A Hand in Hell

"Is this the place?" I asked as I eased the car to a stop in front of an old brick apartment building. The windows caught the glare of the noon sun, and even behind my sunglasses, I had to squint to see the building. It certainly looked like somewhere a couple of college girls would live…

"Y-yeah," Dexter stammered from the passenger's seat. When I turned to her, I found that she had her eyes focused carefully on the floor, and I grinned broadly.

"You should look at me more often, baby girl," I said brightly, my fingers snaking beneath her jaw and jerking her face toward me. "I'm much prettier than the floor, I can promise you that."

"Will you take this off, please?" she asked softly with a tug at the leather collar around her neck, and my fingers fell away from her chin. Her gaze immediately dropped back to the floor. "It's uncomfortable…and embarrassing…"

I took hold of the leash that rested upon her lap and gave it a sharp tug, pulling her body over the middle console and to my side. Our faces inches apart, I murmured, "That's the whole point of it, you know — dominance and humiliation. Haven't you ever heard of BDSM?"

"I'm not in a relationship with you," she grated between clenched teeth. "You kidnapped me and forced me to be your 'pet.'"

"Well, if you ignore the topic of consent, our relationship is really just a very elaborate role-play," I remarked cheerfully, then gave the leash another jerk to bring her face even closer to mine. I could hear her teeth grinding now; I could see the anger in her eyes. If she didn't spit in my face soon, I would be thoroughly surprised — and maybe even a little bit disappointed. "But whatever relationship or lack thereof you may think we have, it doesn't matter right now," I said lowly. "Right now, our problem is the girl waiting for you inside that apartment building." Her rage faded into the familiar uncertainty of fear, and I felt my smirk grow just a bit more wicked. "Together, we're going to walk into that building, take the elevator to the third floor, then go into your apartment and kill your roommate — and you're not going to make a sound. Do you understand me?"

"I could get you caught," she said boldly, though the light tremor to her voice undermined her attempt at a threat. "I could tell the first person we pass to call 911. I could tell Vicky to run while I hold you off in the apartment. I could —"

I put my hand under her chin and squeezed her face to silence her, jerking her trembling lips close to mine. "You could, you could, you could," I murmured, "but you won't. The more attention you draw to us, the more people I kill. Do you understand me?" She pursed her lips but nodded obediently, and I grinned happily as I released her cheeks and leaned back. "Good! Let's get going, then." I held the end of the leash out to her and said smilingly, "Bring this along for me, would you?" She pulled it from my fingers and opened her door with unnecessary force, and I laughed to myself as I pushed my own door open and slid out of my seat.

The heels of my stilettos clicked against the asphalt as I started around the car, pushing the door shut behind me. "What number is the apartment, again?" I asked, taking the looped end of the leash from her.

"312," she answered as I began to lead her across the street. All was silent for a moment but for the sound of my heels on the pavement and a distant honk from down the street, but just as we reached the glass double doors at the front of the building, she asked softly, "Why do I have to come?"

I tossed her a beatific smile over my shoulder and pulled the door open. "Because you would try to run off if I left you alone, of course," I answered, stepping aside to force her in ahead of me. "And because I'd really like to see the look on your face when I kill her, but that one's just for funsies." I followed her into the small, sparsely decorated lobby, where she stopped and turned to face me, her expression empty but her jaw working as she ground her teeth in frustration. "Well, don't stop now, silly. Lead the way to the elevator."

"Why are you doing this to me?" she all but growled. "Why can't you just leave me and my friends and my family alone?"

"Because getting run out of town by a bunch of human hicks doesn't really appeal to me," I said simply, then pointed to the other end of the room with a smile on my face. "Now, get your ass in that elevator before someone sees us."

She turned from me and stalked her way over to the elevator, even being so kind as to slam her palm against the "up" button when she reached it. It took only a second for the doors to part, and we stepped into the well-lit and brightly colored interior together. She jabbed the button for the third floor, then pressed herself into the corner across from me with her arms crossed tightly beneath her breast, scowling straight ahead.

"Come, now, Dexter," I said lightly, taking a step closer to her and clapping a hand on her arm. She tensed. "There's no need for you to be this way. We can be friends after this over, you know? Just one quick kill, and we'll never have to go through this again." If I didn't know any better, I might have thought I was telling the truth, smooth as the lie was. "Shouldn't you be scared, anyway? Worried? Anger doesn't seem right for this situation." She didn't respond, and the second the doors opened, she stepped out into the hall, dragging me along by the handle of the leash.

Just down the hall, she stopped in front of a door bearing the numbers "312" in ugly gold plating, pulling the set of keys I'd given back to her from the pocket of her shorts. I said nothing as she unlocked the door, turned the handle, and pushed the door open, but my mouth fell agape at what I saw inside. In the center of the living room, right across from us and just past the tiny kitchen to the left, sat not one lonely woman, but one woman and three older, angrier men — men with fucking semi-automatic rifles on their laps.

"Lauren?" the girl cried, lurching to her feet from where she sat in an armchair, her eyes wide.

"Who the hell are you?" one of the men, a tall, bearded guy with salt-and-pepper hair, snapped, his intense gaze on me. All three of the males were on their feet now, guns still at rest for a reason I couldn't fathom.

"A friend," I answered politely, offering the group my best smile as I gently pushed Dexter into the apartment ahead of me.

"Oh, yeah?" another man snapped, shorter and even more grisly looking. "Then why do you have her on a leash?"

"Haven't you ever heard of BDSM?" I asked, shutting the door quietly behind me. "It's a thing, you know."

A gun was leveled on me suddenly, and the clanking of metal sounded as the other two men followed suit. "You're the one, aren't you?" the first man said, glaring at me hard. "The one who keeps taking people?"

"Oh, come on," I laughed sweetly. "That's just silly! Do I really look like someone who could be in the business of taking people?" The man's eyes flicked to Dexter, and I followed his gaze to find her lips moving, mouthing the words "Help me." My expression instantly soured. "You stupid cunt," I snapped, jerking the girl backward and into my arms with a tug at the leash, my hand simultaneously slipping into my pocket and retrieving a black-handled switchblade. "I told you not to say anything!" I flipped the knife open and pressed the blade against the girl's throat beneath the edge of the collar, glaring bitterly at the men as I did so. "Of course, I suppose it would have come to this, anyway. These bastards have to die eventually, and why not take care of it while they're all conveniently in one place?"

"Don't shoot her!" Dexter's roommate — Nicky? Micky? — screamed, but the man at the forefront had already pulled the trigger. The bullet embedded itself in my upper arm, and I grimaced but made not a sound, continuing to hold my gaze and knife steady. A second bullet, this one fired from a different gun, was quick to follow, and I couldn't help a fierce grin when Dexter cried out in pain and sagged in my arms. I wasn't sure where the bullet had hit her, but I hoped it was somewhere good.

"Could you be any more incompetent?" I cackled as a cacophony of gunshots rang out. The bullets stopped just before they reached my face, caught in a web of my beautiful, oft-forgotten demonic power, and I grinned past them to the men whose weapons they'd come from. One of them looked startled, but the others still had their grumpy facades intact. "Well, I guess you get points for knowing not to trust me, but firing at someone with a knife to a girl's throat? Missing your target with your first two shots and hitting the hostage? Really, there are no words for your failure." I saw their all-business stances falter, their guns aiming away from me now, and I took the time to let the bullets clatter noisily to the tile floor and lean around my hostage to see what damage had been done. She was clutching her leg, blood rolling in waves down the fair skin of her thigh, and I chuckled as I lowered her body to a sitting position on the floor. "I'm going to have to ask that you all put your guns down and take a seat. This will go much more smoothly for you if you just do as I say."

The men glanced at each other, all of their wrinkled faces grim and unsure, but the roommate — Ricky? Nicky? — immediately plopped right back into her chair, her worried gaze flitting between me and poor Dexter cringing on the floor. "Just do what she says," the girl pleaded, looking up at the men. "You've already hurt Lauren once. Please don't do it again." They sat down without a word, then, laying their guns on the coffee table in front of them. I didn't trust them not to grab for them again, but really, what could they do to me? I was too fast for them, and frankly, their aim sucked.

"Good girl," I cooed, smirking at the roommate. "I can see why Lauren likes you so much."

The girl's expression hardened, but concern was still obvious in every line of her face. "What do you want from us?"

"Information," I said, grinning wickedly. "Mostly from those old coots, but feel free to chime in if you have any knowledge of the situation."

"What is it you want to know, you Satanic hag?" one of the men spat, and my grin grew until it threatened to swallow my entire face.

"You're part of the group of humans who have set out to put a stop to my kidnappings, correct?" I asked in a smooth, casual voice as I sat down beside Dexter on the floor. She was on her side now, still letting out the occasional grunt of pain and clutching her leg, but all I did to help her was give her upturned hip a light pat and continue with my conversation when the men nodded. "Well, then, how many of you are there? What is it you intend to do to stop me, exactly? What tipped you off to my existence in the first place?"

"Dozens," the first man said, scowling grimly at me, "maybe hundreds. We plan to kill you, and we found out about you by putting all the pieces together like the intelligent men we are."

I cocked an eyebrow at the man, smiling coolly. "I bet it was a woman who figured it out, you self-important, sexist scumbags. Who is she?"

"Just a woman who saw you," another of the men chimed in quietly, the only one who hadn't yet spoken. "She's not important." Coming from any of the other men, I would have taken that statement literally, but coming from this one…He seemed all right. He meant "Not important to you, so please don't kill her," not "Not important because we're totally the manly men and the stars of this party, so fuck you, you vagina-bearing wench." Maybe I would let him live…Probably not.

"All right," I went on, my gaze drifting over the group. "Now, honestly, how many of you are there?"

"About thirty besides us," the kinder man answered, though the other men were quick to shush him.

"I'm bleeding to death!" Dexter cried suddenly. "Aren't any of you going to help me?"

"Quiet down, now, Dexter," I mumbled, giving her hip another light pat. "The grown-ups are talking."

"We need to get her to the hospital," the roommate said, cautiously rising to her feet, but a sharp look from me sent her right back into her chair.

"What we need to do is hurry this conversation along," I said simply, then smiled at the men and asked, "How much do you know about me? What I am, where I live, anything?"

"You're a demon," the head male answered darkly, obviously not liking being anything but the center of attention in his little group, "sent from Hell to possess a poor, innocent girl's body and wreak havoc upon this town to make us pay for our sins. Am I right?" But I was already laughing, my head thrown back to let loose a hyena's cackle.

"Where the hell did you get that idea?" I asked, laughter still distorting my words just a bit.

The man looked confused — how precious. "You've only taken people from places like bars and clubs, places teeming with sin. Why else would you be here?"

I grinned. "Well, I am a demon. You got that part right, at least. But I'm not possessing anyone's body, and I'm certainly not here to cleanse your Podunk town of sin. That sounds too much like work, and I'm not here on business."

"What do you want, then?" the roommate asked in a whisper, her eyes wide and her hands trembling.

"Entertainment," I said with a content sigh. "Just entertainment. Speaking of which…" I rose to my feet and took a step closer to the group. All of the men twitched, but only the leader reached for his gun. He stopped just short of gripping the handle, however, and my smile remained. "Just one last question before we call this meeting to a close. Where is your group's headquarters?" The men exchanged glances, more than a little bit hesitant to reveal such pertinent information. "Tell me now," I said darkly, "or face the consequences."

They looked at each other for a moment longer, and it was the kind man who turned to me and said earnestly, "We meet in Mike's garage every night, over on Church Street; 687 Church Street. But don't hurt anyone! Please! They don't deserve to die for this!"

"No one crosses a demon and lives, sir," I said, heaving a sad sigh. "Not even a kind man such as yourself." I jerked into action the second the final syllable had left my lips, and the clatter of guns being pulled from the table accompanied my swift trek to the living area. A shot was fired, catching me in the stomach, and though it hurt like a mother, I didn't slow. I gripped the man's jaw and shoulder, and with a quick jerk, I snapped his neck. Another shot rang out, but I caught this one in another handy-dandy web of energy, and as I let the man's body drop to the floor, I flipped the bullet around and hurled it back at its owner. It caught him in the forehead, delving straight into his brain, and his body crumpled lifelessly to the floor. Two more gunshots sounded in rapid succession, and I caught both of them just before they reached my chest.

"A quick word of advice," I purred as I faced the only remaining man — the leader, as it so happened. "Guns don't really work on demons." The bullets tinkled to the floor, and I gripped the rifle's barrel and jerked it from the man's hand, sending it sailing haphazardly across the room. "Although, to be quite fair," I added, holding a hand up and letting him watch as my nails extended into sharp, talon-like claws, "not much does." I plunged my hand into his chest claws-first, and I felt his heart burst around my fingers, warm and bloody. With a firm hand to the chest, I pushed his corpse from my claws, and I turned to the roommate, who was on her feet and standing behind the chair as if it could save her, with a cheerful smile. "What was your name again? Dexter over there told me before we came, but I can't quite remember it. Nicky? Micky? Something like that?"

"V-Vicky," she stammered, and I snapped the fingers of my left hand, the one with normal fingernails.

"So obvious!" I exclaimed. "How did I not figure that out?" I suddenly grew more serious, giving the girl a frown heavy with feigned compassion. "Now, I'm really sorry about this, but I promised Dexter that she could watch me kill you nice and slow."

"You said you'd do it fast!" Dexter cried, and I looked back to find her leaning against the wall, her legs tucked beneath her and tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Oh, look at that, Vicky!" I exclaimed joyfully, facing the roommate with a much too cheerful grin on my face. "She really wants you dead! Maybe she doesn't like you so much after all."

"That's not —" But the sound of a snapping neck cut Dexter's words short, and she was reduced to a wordless shriek of horror as her roommate's body crumpled almost soundlessly to the carpeted floor at my feet.

"You might want to close your eyes for this part," I said, raising my voice to be heard over her never-ending scream. "I look just horrible when I eat."

I knelt beside the dead woman, grabbed a handful of her hair, and pulled her neck to my face, and Dexter's scream finally formed words. "Stop it! Whatever you're doing, stop!" But my teeth were already in her roommate's throat, blood flooding my mouth and spurting across my cheeks and chin as I tore away a chunk of flesh. Her skin was awfully rubbery, I noticed as Dexter's words were lost in another terrified screech.

"Oh, come on!" I called to her once I'd chewed and swallowed that first glorious bite of my meal, looking up to find her back pressed flat against the front door. "It's just like sushi!" Her scream died suddenly, however, and I watched as her eyes rolled back into her head and her body went limp. "Well, there goes my fun," I sighed. My eyes dropped to the dead woman in my arms, and I smiled to myself. "I guess it's not a complete loss, though." And I went back to eating chunks of her flesh as if nothing had ever happened.

Dexter and her silly human blood loss could wait.