Demon's Caress

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She was being hunted.

Adrenaline pumped through Maron’s veins, made her heart pound and her breath rush as she darted between pedestrians and across a busy intersection. Horns blared and drivers swore at her, but she ignored them, a feral smile curving her lips. It was usually she who hunted—she who captured and claimed. Even now, she trailed a killer, the scent of his evil stinging her nostrils, and all the while she knew others of her kind—demons—drew closer by the minute. Seeking her. Wanting her.

The dichotomy sharpened the experience.

This was what she lived for. The thrill, the chase. The order of demons she belonged to tracked down evil souls and shipped them straight to the hot spot before they could hurt any more innocents. Once a person crossed over into true evil, the soul festered inside them, the stench enough to make Maron gag.

If only humans knew the truth about what demons did on earth, keeping the baddies away from them. But it made sense that her kind would be demonized over the ages. You worked in the gutter long enough and it was inevitable you would end up knee deep in shit. Maron shrugged and let her body dissolve into nothing more than a shadow as she ghosted up a narrow side street. It really didn’t matter what people knew or not, she would do her job.

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