Disclaimer: Warning this story contains scenes of Non-Consent/Reluctance, Vampires, Demons, Blood, and Violence. It may be offensive to some. Please read at your own discretion. Enjoy! -Dannygirl31
*
Davik Scott James did the best he could to admire the lavish surroundings in which he found himself, despite how uncomfortable he felt about being here: Satin curtains were hung everywhere, in a fairly successful attempt to hide the dreariness of the old, moldy, black brick walls. There were shelves and tables littered with all sorts of unusual junk everywhere: shrunken heads, healing crystals, voodoo dolls, the list goes on... Davik had successfully hunted several witches before, but never had seen the inside of one of their dens. He had not imagined they would be so... stereotypical.
The woman, the witch Alrune, steps out from a backroom hidden behind a curtain woven from beads. She looks to Davik with a strangely comforting smile, "Ah, Davik, so you return to me at last."
Davik can't help but to swallow back a sudden dryness in his throat as he looks upon the witch once again: She is a vision of perfect beauty, having all the correct curves in all the right places, an alluring vision of every man's fantasy woman. Her short black hair reminded him of Samantha's, but that's where the similarities ended: Samantha didn't tend to enjoy such lush, extravagant dresses for one. Alrune, however, wore an amazing crimson dress that draped on her body loosely, the silk so thin that, thanks to the candlelight, Davik could see the silhouette of her form underneath. The dress hung so low on her chest that it showed the entirety of her cleavage, the straps of the dress barely covering her nipples teasingly. Davik couldn't help but to guess at her bust size: C-cup perhaps? Whatever the case, her breasts were large enough that they threatened to slip out of their insufficient coverings all too easily. The woman wore a coy grin and had green eyes so vivid they almost seemed to glow. Her facial features were further accented by her black lipstick, dark purple eyeshadow, and dark blush.
"Did you bring me something of this woman, this Samantha?" her voice was lyrical, inviting.
Davik tries to shake off the spell her form seemed to cast upon him, and withdraws a simple hairbrush from his black, leather coat. The hairbrush was well used and littered with strands of black hair. He had ransacked every drawer in Samantha's room before he realized that the easiest way to obtain some of her DNA was to simply nab a few strands of her hair.
A wide smile crossed the lips of the witch woman at the sight of the brush, "Ah, yes, that will do nicely!" She takes a seat behind a small table centered in the middle of the room, clears off all sorts of junk: A crystal ball, tarot cards, etc. Then she motions to a chair on the opposite side of the table, "sit down my precious."
Davik still doesn't like this one bit: When he had found the witch woman responsible for cursing this small town's pastor with a dreaded and incurable disease, he had every intention of simply running his sword through her. But the witch promised she could repay his every desire in return for her life, and best of all she promised she could tell Davik everything about the ever mysterious Samantha.
Samantha, his thoughts turn to her sourly as he reminds himself why he was trusting this creature. Fight fire with fire, he thinks, use one monster to unmask another. Samantha had been the favorite of the Father for far too long. Yes, she had supposedly slain more monsters than the rest of the hunters put together, but that shouldn't excuse her of the fact that she was too obviously not human! The way she could move faster than most could see, the way she could punch her way through a brick wall: No human could do that! Samantha was a freak, a monster, and the sooner he proved that to the Father, the sooner they could be rid of her... Forever.
At last reassured, Davik hands the brush to the witch. Unexpectedly, the woman sniffs the brush deeply, then, her eyes closing, sighs long with satisfaction. "Mmm, yes," she purrs, "definitely not human, or at least not quite..."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Davik demands, perturbed by her strange actions and growing impatient.
"Hold on precious," she giggles at his fury, "I must ask the spirits."
"What spirits?" Davik doesn't trust the sound of that even a tiny little bit.
Alrune plucks a hair from the brush deftly with a sly grin, then tossing the brush aside she lies the hair down on the table stretching it with both hands at either end. Then she closes her eyes and begins chanting in a strange language Davik isn't familiar with. It almost sounds like Latin, but not quite.
Was it getting darker in here?
It seems like the witch chants for an eternity before it happens: The candles flicker out, leaving the room in near pitch black darkness, and a cold breeze sweeps into the room from only god knows where. Suddenly Alrune's eyes shoot open, the sight of them are enough to nearly make Davik fall back out of his chair: Her irises, pupils, everything are gone, her eyes are simply white all over.
The witch speaks, but the voice is not of her own. The new voice lacks the underlying current of seduction that Alrune spoke with deftly, instead this new voice is cold, hollow, and empty. "Why do you summon me?"
Davik doesn't know what to say, he is completely flabbergasted: "Wh-Who are you?",
"Is it important mortal? I am not from this world, and have been summoned from my slumber quite abruptly to speak with you. Now I ask again, Why do you summon me?" the voice seems quite impatient.
"I want to know about the woman who's hair that is," Davik wipes away cold sweat from his brow.
The voice laughs, a slow, unnerving chuckle, "it is simple: She is a demon."
The words themselves take the wind from Davik's chest, "A what!?" That's impossible: Demons were creatures of unimaginable power, with psychic abilities that could tear down entire cities and a thirst for destruction unequaled by any creature. Only once had the monastery every encountered a demon, and that was long before Davik became a hunter. As its told, every hunter was mobilized against this unstoppable force, and most were killed before the Father could exorcise it.
"A Demon in it's larvae stage, granted," the voice chuckles again, "but a demon nonetheless."
"Larvae? What does that mean?"
"It means she is like a child demo: She may be full-grown for a human, but to an adult demon she is but a baby," the voice speaks in a matter-of-fact manner.
"When...?" Davik can't even articulate his question, his stomach suddenly very nauseous.
"...Will she change?" the voice chuckles again, "It is impossible to say: It could be any second now, or it could be hundreds of years."
"What do I do?" Davik gulps, already knowing the answer.
"Kill her, simply," the voice makes it sound all too easy.
"How?"
"She will die as easily as any mortal, a gunshot wound, a stab through the heart," the voice pauses a moment and frowns, "but illness, disease, poison won't do."
That's no help: Davik had seen Samantha in action at least a dozen times, she's too fast to catch, too strong to overpower. Then the horrible truth dawns over him... Even if he told the Father about Samantha, even if the Father believed him, even if he set every hunter he had against Samantha, Samantha could simply kill them all.
It would be too easy for her.
