Chapter 2
Imogael
My goddamn wings were gone. My wings! The very sign of my lineage, the design passed down from Lucifer himself for my family, and they were gone! They had only just grown in, and I was so proud of them. My family was one of the oldest, most powerful demon families in Hell.
All of that was gone.
This thing, this human, was standing in front of me, his brown eyes momentarily soft with worry after seeing my back. One look at him told me everything: I was sent to Earth. This would be my own Hell. Seraniel had so desperately wanted to be rid of me that he sent me where even he could not touch me.
The blackest despair I had ever felt crept up on me. I wanted to die, to cease existing. Earth was so cold, it smelled of uncooked humans, and I had lost my wings. Oblivion would have been preferable.
“What's your name?” The man asked. His hair was black, as black as Seraniel's skin had been. I found myself wanting to dig my fingers into that hair and tug on it, to force the man's mouth open and let my tongue explore him. I didn't quite think that he would appreciate that, though. Best not to make him angry.
My name? I knew that if I uttered my true name, it might send both humans into madness. While the thought amused me, I found myself curious about the world around me as I was disgusted.
What was the name of the last human I had tortured? Ah, yes, it was Elise. I would choose that as my name. “Elise,” I said, my earthly voice still strange to me. It sounded higher in pitch, and had a morose tone to it.
I dipped a finger in the liquid that was around me as it evaporated. It was the only proof she needed that Seraniel had sent her here, since it was the sign of angelic magic. Demons had tar. Angels had some goopy, sparkly bullshit.
“Well, Elise, my name is Scott and as far as I see it, you have two choices. You either come with me and go talk to the cops about those bruises, or you stay here, get beaten worse than whoever did that to you beat you, and be forced to become one of Starr's whores.”
“Oh, I'm more likely to just kill her for trespassin'.” The old hag behind Scott watched me with suspicion. “I don't want none of her mess around here.”
Scott rolled his eyes and shot Starr a disgusted look. My magic was weaker here than it had been in Hell, but I could see enough into his mind to be amused by the violence within him.
“I think I'll stay. That second option sounds fun,” I answered, tilting my head up to him with a wide smile. “Both versions of it.”
“Motherfucker,” he cursed. “The second option wasn't really an option. Get your ass up and put some goddamn clothes on so we can go.”
“What if I don't want to?” I asked, egging him on. I wanted him to hit me, to lash out somehow. It would be nice to feel him treat me the same way Seraniel had treated me.
The muscle in his jaw clenched, but he turned his stubborn look to the old lady. “Get her some clothes before I slap the shit out of her,” he said, stepping to the side and leaning against the wall. Starr ran up the stairs and then brought down a handful of clothes. Starr's eyes were sharp with hatred as she looked at me, which didn't really bother me that much. I was used to humans hating me, and I usually deserved it!
She handed them to me as I stood, unashamed of my body. Aside from the color of my skin and the lack of horns or wings, it was undoubtedly my body, with the same muscular structure and thin composition.
I was handed the clothes, and upon looking at them, saw that they were a mini skirt and halter top. Slutty, just how I liked it, and no panties either. Since I had already latched onto the man, I figured I might as well tease him a bit.
Slipping the clothes on while he watched, I sensed that he was becoming aroused. It would have been nice to have some of my magic to make my lips a little puffier, or my tits a little bigger. As it was, this was going to have to do, and it seemed to be just enough.
The skirt was soft, but the top was a little too tight around my breasts. I tugged at it while I watched him. His eyes were glued on my nipples, which stood a little stiffer from the attention. Oh, I did so love that attention. I made sure to brush my hand against my nipples before standing with my arms at my sides.
Toying with humans was fun. I wondered, then, if every human was so easy to play with. I had been given the impression that they were only weak of mind while in Hell, but that seemed to not be the case at all.
Starr handed me high heeled shoes, shiny red. They were probably the only things I would keep wearing once I had the chance to change my clothes. Generally, in Hell, I went around naked. Clothes were more like costumes, and I still saw them that way.
“Come on,” he grunted, throwing his thumb towards the stairs.
“I told you, I'm not going with you.” I wanted to milk this for all it was worth before I had to escape from him. Or maybe I could stay with him for a while, and get him to teach me about his world. Obviously he would never believe me if I just told him I was a demon, but… I never needed to use that information before. Just my body and a pouty mouth would be enough for most human men, I bet.
He growled and grabbed my arm, pushing me toward the stairs. “Look lady, I don't have time for whatever bullshit your drugged up little brain is concocting.” He paused and pulled out some kind of machine from his pocket. “Fuck,” he said.
Scott
Saejima was pissed. I knew that before I answered the phone, but his agitated voice cemented that fact. “Where the fuck are you?” It wasn't going to be pleasant dealing with him.
“The Black Diamonds had a problem,” I began to explain, but he cut me off.
“You're late, and you're out playing with the hookers?!” He boomed, so loud that it made the phone crackle. Saejima was usually exceptionally nice to me, since I saved his ass more times than he could count. I saved his whole club, in fact.
I leaned back against the wall again, looking up at the ceiling and wondering what I had done to deserve this shit. “Yeah, I know I'm late. Look, some weird girl was found naked in Starr's meth lab, when the door was locked.” I looked at Elise, whose wild hair cascaded over her shoulders.
Her name was obviously fake, but that didn't matter. What did matter was getting her to tell me the name of the scumbag that hurt her back like that. If I could just get her to trust me with that, I could take care of her problem and then get her out of my hair.
Having women around me for any length of time was usually dangerous for them.
But with a name, I could probably shoot the guy in the head before sundown, then drop her off at a women's shelter and ride off into the sunset, free to use Starr's girls with no strings attached. It wasn't a fulfilling life, but I had lost all desire for a fulfilling life, years ago.
“Stop messing with the hookers, put your pants on, and bring me my fucking guns, Scott. You have an hour.” He hung up, leaving me to curse. An hour was barely enough time to make it to Hiroshima's headquarters.
I grumbled and looked to Elise again. She looked drop dead gorgeous, even wearing the clothes of a street walker. Somehow the wild color of her hair seemed natural. It made me want to touch it, to see if it was as hot as the fire it resembled.
“You're coming with me to finish this job, and then we're going to have a chat about those bruises on your back,” I told her. She just gave me a sly smile, the kind of smile you want to slap off a girl's face before kissing her. “I expect you to give me a name, and no funny business. Whatever he said about hurting you if you went for help, it was a lie. Got it?”
“Oh, I got it,” she said. “But he lives far away. Very far away. I'm not sure you or I will ever see him again.” She pouted. God, I wanted to taste those lips.
“What, was he some kind of foreigner on vacation or something?” I asked. I had no problem with other races, not like The Mob did, but if some un-American fuck came to my country to beat on the women, that pissed me off even more.
She puts a finger to her chin and thinks, her smile never fading. “Hmm, something like that, yes,” she said. She was playing some kind of game with me. I hated games, but she was fun. Interesting.
Interesting was dangerous.
I took out my wallet and pulled a piece of card stock from it. “Here,” I said, handing it to the woman. Her long fingers poked out to pinch the card away from me.
“What's this?” She asked, looking it over.
“It's my number. If I'm not around and you see him again, you can use that to get hold of me,” I explained. My card just called me a “professional problem solver”. It was close enough, without freaking out the kid at the print shop. They normally were most useful when I was traveling outside of my sphere of influence, where I would run into other gangs that might have a problem with me if I didn't offer my services to them.
“Hm, what do I do with it?” She asked.
I just rolled my eyes. “You're laying this on pretty thick, lady. Stuff that in your tits, and let's go.”
I couldn't help it as I watched her slide the card into her cleavage. My cock stirred with a savage desire when she looked back up at me. The colors of her skin, her hair, her eyes… they all seemed too bright. Like someone turned the saturation up on her, so that the rest of the world would look dull around her.
“Up the stairs,” I commanded, following behind her. Taking a peak up, I saw her cunt. No panties. Biting my lower lip, I let myself enjoy the sight. It would be nice to bury my face in those folds and taste her. Her pussy was bald, just how I liked it. It also looked a little slick from arousal. Nice.
When she reached the top, she waited for me, and I escorted her out of the house. Starr's other women all watched her with something like jealousy as I took her hand and led her to the front door. They never got much affection from me. To see some strange girl be touched in any way other than brutally must have really pissed them off.
Their anger now would make for better sex later, I reasoned. When they were angry, it made it easier for me to fuck them rough.
“Where are we going?” She asked once we were on the porch.
I leaned back to kiss Starr on the cheek before going down the stairs. “I have to make a delivery. Put this on.” I handed her the helmet, but she held it with a limp hand and a confused face.
“I don't know how,” she finally admitted.
“Lady, where the hell are you from?” I asked, but it was a rhetorical question. One that she just laughed at, never giving even a hint of an answer. Just a Mona Lisa smile.