As his hand slid along her thigh, he smiled. A shiver of pleasure ran through him as he took in his subject’s quiet beauty. She was so still. So very still that he could do anything that he wanted to her. Dark hair framed her head like a tarnished halo, but he knew there were horns underneath the beauty. Lips so pale that he wanted to kiss and breathe life back into her. But that would break the spell all too soon and he wanted to savor the simple beauty that she presented to him as she lay on the starched sheet. No wrinkles imprinted the bed adding to her perfection. The whole room was perfect. White. Clean, with the hint of bleach under the cheap vanilla air freshener that he had picked up at the corner store.

He had spent hours scrubbing the tile floor until it was alabaster once again. Even the walls were freshly painted white. All for her. He had done everything for her. His fingers played with her erect nipple, fingering the small pebble and still she didn’t stir. Not even an eyelash was batted as he began having his way with her. He stared at his trophy committing every feature, every once of her flesh to memory to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. He had worked long and hard for her, for this one moment. Waiting. Studying. Watching her to make sure she was the right one. And she was. He had taken her unaware, while she was sleeping. He remembered it all too well. Just the thought of it got him excited and hard. Even reliving the memory, joy coursed through him and he wanted to fuck her right there.

***
Sweat beaded on his forehead while the sun beat down on him as he stood on the fire escape peering through her window. He tried lifting it once before. It was nailed shut. This time he was going to have to get to her the hard way. Her slumber put her in a coma so deep that nothing would rouse her. He had already witnessed that. Now, to be sure, he took one swing of the crowbar and let it smash through the glass. Broken shards littered the hardwood of her bedroom, reminding him of ice chips as they crunched under his shoes. Two steps in he stopped and listened hard for any sign of his entrance to her lair. One heartbeat. Two. Three. His breath caught in his throat. His pulse pounded in his ears as he listened and his grip on the crowbar tightened just in case she sat up and noticed he was there. Maybe she was toying with him just like some of the others had been. His hand absently felt along the side of his cheek, running over the jagged scar that marred his once perfect face. Yes, that bitch had gotten what she had deserved in the end.

Fumbling in his bag, he took out the crude wooden cross that his grandfather had carved. The holy relic fit into his hand perfectly as he brandished it before him. Hunting their kind was in his blood. Passed down through four generations and he was the last of his line. Everything he knew was from his family history. His father had taught him how to recognize the beasts. The slight sheen to the skin under particular light, the lack of breath, or heartbeat. Sirens that lured men with a smile. Ever since he was a child, his father had pointed out the difference in them. How they bred like sewer rats. Underneath their innocent exteriors, they were demons.

The one before this one had tricked him. Somehow she had drawn breath, had a heart beat. She had evolved beyond the others of her kind and seemed human. But that was impossible. Even the cross that he had pressed to her flesh hadn’t left a mark. Still she had sliced at him with the knife and had caught his cheek leaving him with the awful scar. Yet, like all the others, when he plunged the knife into her chest and pieced her heart she had screamed and died. Her face had slipped into wonderful serenity and he had been left with a lovely trophy. Slowly he had used his scalpel to peel away the layers of her skin. Sections came off in thin strips revealing muscle underneath. Blood had splattered on her sheets exposing the red muscles underneath. Still he had kept peeling away, stripping off her nose, slicing the thin skin of her eyelids and reconstructing it into a parody on the pillow beside her. The thin blade had severed her blue eyes and he had smiled as he held them in his hands marveling at their beauty even in death. But his true reward had been the fangs he pulled from her upper jaw. They were small in comparison to the others that he had, but that was okay. They still had been good enough to add to his collection.

Now, as he stared at the creature on the bed, he knew she was the real thing. He could feel it. Brandishing the cross he crept slowly toward her. A hint of sunlight streamed in. The disturbed curtains he had moved through blew in a breeze that parted them slightly. The ray warmed his back, but he was careful not to let it on her for fear that she would burst into flames. Then all his careful planning would be ruined. He put his bag down on the side of bed, noticing the alarm clock, a picture of her with her arms wrapped around another man, and the small gold cross beside the clock. The picture must have been a reminder to her of happier times. He smirked at the sunlight draped creature in the photo.

From his bag he took out a knife, the very one that had scarred him. Lovingly he let the cool metal run over his palm. He smiled. The blade was his tool that rid the world of the demons like the one before him. Slowly he pulled back the sheet and took the blade to slice away her T-shirt. The monster looked so peaceful that he would never have suspected, if he didn’t know, that she was a creature of darkness. The knife made a good enough nick in the cloth that he was able to tear the rest of it with his bare hands as he dared put down the cross since she was not moving. The sight of her perfect, lithe body, sent shivers of lust through him. But he had to remember that he was not here to ravage the beast. He was here to dispose of it. It was his mission to cleanse the world of devils.

Hovering over her he took in her eternal beauty and watched as her chest remained still. He picked up his cross and placed it in the space between her tits. Watching, he waited for the skin to begin to smolder, scar and burn, but it did nothing. Suddenly she stirred and inhaled. Her chest shuddered and the cross fell to the wayside. His eyes widened in surprise. This one was like the other, a hybrid. Somehow the species had mutated and there was now a new kind of beast that lurked among the shadows. He wondered if next they would be able to withstand daylight as well. That would make it even harder for him and his fellow hunters to discern the beasts. What would his father say now?

In that moment, he was glad the old man was dead and scattered to ash. The poor man had been beaten at his own game and seduced by one of the beasts. He had been bitten and it wasn’t until it was too late that he found his father and the whore together that he had to do them both. If not his soul would have remained in hell forever. For his father the death had been swift and noble, a machete to the neck and his father’s pain had been obliterated.

His knife almost slipped from his grasp as he froze and waited for the beast to open her eyes. Even with the shudder of her next breath he held to true to his conviction. He would rid the world of her kind. His gripped tightened on the blade turning his knuckles white. He ran his tongue over his dry lips. Steady. One step forward. A loud creak sounded under the carpet as he stepped down. He inhaled through his nose. The light breeze hardened the beast’s nipples. Another wave of lust nearly brought him to his knees as the beast’s power worked on him in its slumber. The minute changed on her digital clock. Her chest shuddered again.

The beast’s eyes snapped opened. She wasn’t supposed to do that. Her eyes met his. A wave of surprise gripped him as hard as he held the knife. Realization. Fright. Shock. All played in her eyes before reflecting on her face. Her ruddy mouth formed an ‘o’ to scream.
In that split second instinct took over. Everything he had been taught. All the years of his father’s voice drilling into his psyche washed over him. The knife was his claw; his weapon to use against the demon bitch like the crusaders used their swords in the Holy Lands. Only when her kind had been wiped out would he truly know salvation. His grasp on the blade never faltered and before she could let a sound the knife buried itself in her chest piercing her heart. He withdrew the knife and watched the pool of blood forming in the hollow between her perfectly formed breasts. He waited a moment, but the beast didn’t burn to ash. She must still have been young, too human to crack and ignite and crumble. The crimson pool trailed in a slight tear to her belly button. He wiped the blade on his dark pants so the stain was not visible.

Peace washed over him as he stared at this prize. Still she could come back and there was only one thing left to do. He reached back inside his bag and drew out the machete that had stolen his father’s life. It was the sharpest of his weapons. He brought it down quick, severing the head of his newest victim finally, ridding the world of the demon bitch that lay on the sheet. Hybrid or not, she was not going to rise the night and search for blood. Separating flesh and bone was easy and it only took one strike. Blood soaked the sheets under the beast and her eyes stared at him accusingly. But she was human now in her demeanor and he had saved her soul. In that he knew his own salvation was bought and paid for with each creature he slew. Still she was beautiful and he wanted to savor that beauty. Just like he did with all the others.

***

He had washed the last traces of blood from her body. The wound where he pierced her heart was clean showing the incision. His finger traced over her cold flesh. The wound on her neck was clean as well. A small piece of her vertebra peeked out almost as if she was giving him a quick look at something intimate. At that he felt himself growing hard and the lust he had experienced when she was in her death coma, laying on in her own bed was doubled with what he felt now. Squeezing his eyes shut he forced himself not to come. He didn’t want to unload in his pants like a giddy teenager, but that was how he felt.

He leaned over his trophy and inhaled her scent, marveling at the glow her skin was taking on as it started to gray. Her lips her purple and blue. The right color for kissing. Bending over her, he pressed his lips to the severed head working his tongue between her lips. While he did, he began undressing. Buttons slipped out of holes easily as his tongue grazed the beast’s teeth. They were not as sharp as he thought they would have been, but now she was at peace so everything about her had reverted to human form. Next came his pants and socks until he was bare. His hands were buried in her dark hair. It still smelled like apples. He planted small kisses along the bridge of her nose. He was careful with the severed head as he moved to her body and gripped her breasts with his large hands. They fit into his palms perfectly. God he wanted more of her.

His tongue traced the line of the cut, catching the edge of her spinal chord. Her face was still frozen in the scream. Her eyes still had the fear. She was locked in the perfect moment as she saw her own death in him. A creature that was eternal had died by his hand.

Her body was temperate beneath him, slowly loosing the heat she once had in life. The skin was clammy and he was warming her once again. But the one benefit that he discovered was that she was still so very wet allowing him to slid inside of her waiting cunt. A primal moan rumbled from his chest as she was a perfect fit for him. Somewhere in his mind he wondered what she would have been like if she was still alive. Would she have welcomed him and enticed him like she had many others? Even if that had happened, and she had her way with him like any succubus, he would have offered her soul salivation. Her life would have been forfeit, as it already was, because her soul was damned the second she joined the legions of the devil.

He pumped inside of her at how easy she was to spot under the lights of the seedy bar. God she felt so good. His palms rested on the sides of the body leaving depressions in the white sheet. With each movement the head turned on the pillow slowly sliding down not looking at him. He gritted his teeth as he was coming. Pounding into the body, fucking the corpse and astonished at how supple the body was. Still so pliant.

Yes, the bitch was easy to spot. The sheen on her skin had been the most telling thing. It sparkled to his trained eye like glitter. Even now that sheen was still on her cold skin. It made up her very being. His fingers dug into the wrinkled sheet as perspiration broke out on his skin. He gritted his teeth. The head was completely off the pillow and upside down. He closed his eyes and saw that fear in her eyes. How the muscles in her face bunched around her mouth as she had started to scream. It looked so good on her.

At the last second, as he came he grabbed her tits, holding onto them for his life. Collapsing on the body of the beast, he took a moment to rest. Everything in the room was silent. The scent of paint, bleach, and vanilla stung to his nose. He bit his lip and felt movement underneath him. Suddenly legs were wrapped around him. He tried to sit up but the arms of the beast held him fast.

Laughter filled the room. A giddy giggle that grated his teeth. He was able to lift his head and saw the beast’s head staring at him. It had turned back around and was resting on the stump watching him.

“You deserved it. You bitch,” he muttered.

The head did nothing except stare at him and smirk.

“You liked it didn’t you?” another voice whispered in his ear.

He looked to his left and saw another woman staring at him. She could have been the twin to the creature underneath him.

“It’s really a shame,” the woman said. She picked up the head and sniffed it, inhaling long as she ran her nose along the side of the severed head’s cheek. She licked her lips absently and rearranging the hair before meeting his gaze.

“What are you?’ he asked as he tried to get up. His hands absently felt for his cross or knife. Anything that would make the shrew sorry of the intrusion into his world.

The creature saw this and picked up the crude cross. She pressed it to her ample tits over her heart. “Oh it burns. Someone help me. Please.”

To his horror, she shattered the family relic to splinters as she closed her fingers around it.
“You should know what I am, Jethrow.”

Her hot breath whispered against his ear. Her hot flesh pressed against his back. A shudder moved through him and instantly he was hard again while he was still buried inside his trophy. He knew what the was beast was. “Let me go. You Spawn of Lucifer. Devil’s Whore.”

Hard nails racked his back. He winced as he tried to stop himself from quivering from her touch but his body was not responding to his commands while his brain knew he had been ambushed. The one he took as his trophy must have been the child and this one was Master.

“Your only half right. Jeffy-boy. Queen Bee I am. But not to the one you so innocently slaughtered. All the ones who you took their eye-teeth from were mine. They were. All of them were blameless children. All human like you. What would your father say? Did he know your twisted fascination for fucking the dead?”

“How dare you speak about my father? You bitch. He would have taken your head. Lies. All lies.”

The beast nipped his neck and he felt the edge of her fangs while he felt her wet cunt on his ass cheeks.

“Baby. You’d be such a good fuck. I’ve been watching you. Stalking you like you stalk these helpless victims. At first it took me years to find you until I got your scent. You were sloppy with the last one you killed.”

“What do you want?”

“Like I said, you killed my children with a swipe of your machete. Your father was a good fuck and begged me for salivation after he saw the errors of his ways. He was better than you. At least he knew what to look for. And Christine was my baby sister.”

“You can take my flesh, but you can’t kill my spirit.”

“Baby. I don’t give a damn about your spirit. There is only one thing I want from you.”

With that she brought down the blade. His hand landed next to the trophy he coveted. She smiled to herself as her tongue licked the machete clean. Red had splattered everywhere on the perfect white surfaces giving the room a little more color. The coppery flavor of the blood enhanced her senses as she dropped the weapon. Flipping the body over she lowered herself onto the still hard dick of the corpse. Her hands caressed her tits as she rode her trophy. Moans escaped her lips. Jeffy-boy had been correct about one thing. She hadn’t had such a good fuck in a long time.

Dead was certainly better.

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