Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Extra Sensory Perception, Paranormal,
Desc: Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 1 - An assassin of demons finds out that there are much more supernatural entities out there. This is a an urban fantasy novel.
March 12th, 2015
(Jason Crawford's POV)
The gothic club called the Widow's Night was booming by the time my beautiful raven haired date took us to a seat at a table. It was a very large club and a mish/mash of Techno music and Rock & Roll blasted out from the band and DJ on the stage, in the far back. It was amplified by all the speakers scattered along the corners and wall. Hundreds of people were out on the huge dance floor. It felt like the beat of the music vibrated down to a person's very soul. I had to admit that I rather liked it.
The place was filled with people, smoke and the strong scent of alcohol, not that I minded.
My name is Michael Carson, and truth be told, I could tell that this was exactly the type of bar that I would frequent more often now that I knew about it. Any club that made my soul feel like it vibrated to the beat was alright with me. I was simple like that.
The only thing that I really had to bitch about was the way I was dressed. My date--the raven haired beauty named Revvy--made me dress to fit in. So here I was dressed in some snug black leather trousers, a black silk shirt and had a pentagram hanging around my neck. A black trench coat finished off the ensemble. It just wasn't me, truth be told. I much preferred my cheap suits for my less than reputable clients. It made it easier to conceal weapons and it was cheaper to throw away cheap suits when they were soaked in blood.
Revvy Maximoff was very convincing though. It helped that she had a face and body like that of a Playboy Bunny. The way her tight leather trousers and tight, tight belly shirt fit her did sinful things to my libido. Her bright green eyes were also captivating. Yeah, I've always had a great weakness for beautiful women. I would have likely agreed in any manner she wished me to, just to spend more time with such a beautiful woman.
My own firm decision that was against her wishes were the two 9mm Glock firearms that were tucked away on myself. They were filled with hallow point bullets. The tips were silver and filled with purified holy water. No, they weren't for vampires and werewolves. I didn't even believe in wolves or vamps. They were for J'Kians. Demons who possessed humans after kicking the human's soul to the afterlife.
Yeah, yeah. I know it makes me sound like a goddamn nutcase. I dare you to meet a few of them and then tell me that to my face, though. There was nothing like meeting true evil to change a person's view point.
Though, I had to admit, the night started out alright. I got six or seven Crown Royal shots down me as I sat at the bar. I was feeling pretty buzzed and didn't even seem to mind that Revvy was dancing with half the guys in the fucking bar. I had only known the woman for a couple of days. So, yeah, I wasn't that attached to her. Moreover, I wasn't a jealous person in general.
Besides her beauty, the only reason I was celebrating was the fact that I finally was of legal age to drink. As I drank, I remembered how I left college. It wasn't exactly the way I wanted to leave though. Only two days before I was to receive my doctorates, I broke the Dean's jaw, broke six of his ribs and knocked out four of his teeth. I caught the fucker raping his thirteen year old daughter. So, I almost got doctorates in Criminal Psychology and Forensic Psychology. Not to mention Master Degrees in Network Security and Linguistics.
So now I had absolutely no college education on paper and very few goddamn job opportunities.
The school hadn't really given a rat's fuck that I had an IQ of 196. Hell, even Einstein's IQ was only in the 160s. They basically told me to leave or they would press charges. I countered with going to the police over the Dean diddling his daughter. In the end, they settled for giving me a measly $125,000 bribe and telling me to get the fuck out.
The money had barely been enough to get me a moderately nice house to live in and a cheap car.
Considering I just started college when I was only 10 years old, I thought it was quite an accomplishment to almost finish at 18 years old. That had been three years ago. Since then, I've been moving from job to job. Some were even legal. Most of them weren't even close to legal though. It's funny how the highest paying jobs are also the most illegal kind.
The sad fact in this world was that spilling blood paid good money. It didn't matter if it was demon blood or human blood. Hell, it didn't matter to me in either way. I quit counting the humans I've killed after the 37th assassination. I didn't even bother to count that high on the demons I wasted. To me it wasn't even worth the bother of giving those sick fucks a second thought--besides getting paid for killing them, that is.
Killing was just business and business was good. There were always assholes that needed to be dead and there were always people willing to pay for the job to be done. Money was money. I didn't have much of a moral compass. I had a shrink call me a borderline sociopath one time. I quit going to him when he accused me of that.
I was good at my job for one very good reason. For some reason, remembering things and studying always came easy to me. My former professors, before I got kicked out, did a test and told me that I had an IQ of 196, which technically made me one of the five smartest people on the planet. Even Einstein's IQ was only in the 160s. It wasn't something that I liked to get out though. Mainly because I didn't look like some dyed in the wool nerd. Plus, if you want to be technical, being a genius doesn't really equate to common sense. I still make mistakes with the best of them.
The reason I didn't look like a nerd was rather simple. While at college, I spent four hours a night at a local dojo. The Master of that dojo trained me in Taekwondo, Kenpo and blade fighting for three hours and then he made me work hellishly on the weight machines and treadmills for the last hour. I did this the entire eight years I was at college. Believe me, with all the assholes and stress in college, those kind of workouts helped out a lot. It was the kind of help that kept me from being homicidal, as much anyway.
After getting kicked out of college, I signed up for firearm courses. Technically my record was clean--mainly because I've never been caught. The course lasted eight months. They taught a person how to use six different handguns expertly and ten different rifles in much the same way. By paying a little extra on the side, they also taught me about C-4, detonators and hand grenades. Getting money for classes is easy, as long as you ignore the moral issues of doing it a certain way.
It didn't help that I looked a little strange. Having platinum blonde hair and very sky blue eyes made a person stand out. My eyes were such a vivid and strange shade of blue that I usually wore small mirror-plated shades, even at night. Yeah, yeah. Even geniuses can be damn self-conscious when it comes to looks. People staring at my eyes always made me feel like a freak.
About the only good and average things about my looks was my height. I stood six foot even.
It was when Revvy started back to the bar that trouble started.
That's when the night sort of went to hell. One of Revvy's new dance partners, and a friend of his, decided they wouldn't take no for an answer and started to drag her out a side entrance. The bastards were also doing it as violent as possible. Both men were about 6' foot even and looked like they knew how to handle themselves. One had three-day stubble on his face and dirty blonde hair. The other had black hair. That didn't matter though. As the saying goes, I was feeling 10 feet tall and bullet proof at the time. Too much whiskey will do that for you.
So I did what any drunk idiot would do--I followed them out immediately, looking for a fight. Blame it on my DNA and lineage--I always enjoyed a good and bloody fight. It got blood pumping and my adrenalin up. Fighting--whether it was with a gun, knife or bare fists--I always enjoyed a bloody and violent fight. It often unnerved people and set them on edge, but I truly didn't give a fuck.
When I made it to the dark side alley they were in, I seen that he had Revvy pressed up against a brick wall. Not only that but there was something else that shocked the hell out of me. They had driven steel spikes right through her fucking hands and pinned her to a brick wall with them. It took me a moment to imagine the strength this would take to drive a spike through a brick wall with nothing but sheer brute strength. I didn't think of it long though, cause as I said, I was a little drunk and a lot pissed.
Seeing Revvy's blood pouring and hearing her screams of pain, really set me to whole new levels of pissed off. The kind where your blood boils and you start to get tunnel vision. I reached behind the black trench coat Revvy made me wear and pulled out a Glock 9mm pistol and pointed it right at both of the bastards.
"Let her go, assholes!" I barked out firmly. "Unless you want to breathe through a new hole in the back of your fucking heads."
I was serious too. I had no reservations in killing people that liked to rape or torture women.
The fuckers actually turned and smirked, making their way towards me. I had no idea what they were thinking. Maybe they thought I was bluffing. However, my grandfather always taught me to never make a threat unless you're prepared to back it up. With that said, I took careful aim and fired three shots directly into each of their chests, right into their hearts.
Even half-drunk, I was still a dead shot at that distance.
Blood blew out their backs where the bullets exited and their fronts were also drenched in blood.
For all the good it did. The two men just got a strange grins on their face and kept coming forward.
"Oh, I think that stung a little, meat bag," the blonde haired one growled out menacingly.
It was then that I noted their fingernails elongating into claws and their eyes turning a burnished sickly yellow. I knew immediately at that point what I was dealing with. They were fucking J'Kian demons, who was possessing some bodies. They were Demons from the 2nd Circle of Hell. They possessed people that committed suicide or were irredeemable drug addicts and drunks. In other words: they possessed people with no fucking willpower.
As a side note, J'Kian Demons were some of the more weaker demons I've faced in my life.
A J'Kian also had the strength and speed of about seven mortal men while possessing a body. They also liked to feed on flesh, any flesh. It didn't matter if it was human skin, eyes, muscle or brain. They just loved devouring humans. Lastly, they mostly focused on women. You see, they liked to rape and torture them before they consumed their flesh. For some reason, they had the power to put women in a thrall to make them defenseless.
The only thing that killed them was silver pierced through the eyes. It made their demon essence leave the host. Unfortunately, the former owners of the bodies were long dead and wouldn't be able to reclaim them. To be honest, I quit caring a long time ago. If a person was stupid enough to commit suicide or waste their life on drugs, I figured they deserved to be dead.
I didn't hesitate. I rapidly fired four shots and nailed them both in both of their eyes before they took another step.
The bastards dropped like a stones and then their corpses just evaporated into reddish black mist and faded away.
I was just about to check on Revvy when something happened that I didn't expect. I heard the sound of a single gunshot. It was a distinctive sound. I immediately recognized it as a .50 caliber handgun. I've heard them enough to know exactly what they sound like. It was odd that I recognized the sound before I realized the pain. The pain started in the back. I clinically knew that it severed my spinal cord and exited my heart, blowing a massive exit wound out of my fucking chest.
I dropped like a ton of bricks, cursing my do-gooder nature the whole way down.
Some asshole fucknut shot me from behind.
My last thought, before I 'died', was that this is what I get for trying to do a good deed.
The first thing I noticed, even before opening my eyes, was the fact that I was laying on expensive red silk sheets. They were the kind that cost hundreds of dollars a set. Being that I only had, at most, $150 dollars in the bank, it was kind of impressive. Not that I was thinking about that at the moment. The next thing I noted was that I was actually fucking alive. I distinctly remember being shot by a big fucking bullet and having my spinal cord severed and pieces of my goddamn heart being blown out the exit wound through my chest. Now it was like I wasn't hit at all.
In other words, it was business as usual. I always woke up after a 'death' feeling like I was in the best shape of my life.
I'd found out I was immortal at the age of thirteen. That was eight years ago. It was a big clue when a car runs you over, breaks your neck and crushes your back. I was fine in three hours. It's always three hours. I always wake up in perfect health in three hours. As for why ... Well, that's just a big fucking mystery--both to me and the very few people that know about it. No one can figure it out. My parents are completely human. As far as I know, I haven't been cursed or been around any radiation. It's just always been like this.
Being immortal isn't perfect though. As an example: If I broke my arm, it would take as long as it would a normal person to heal. However, if someone killed me when I had a broken arm, I would wake up fully healed. Weird huh? That's the thing. The conundrum. I have to 'die' in order to heal. Believe me, it can be a stone cold bitch and is usually painful as hell.
My type of immortality isn't all it's cracked up to be. Take aging for example. Since I hit 21 years of age, I'm fairly certain my biological clock completely stopped. My hair doesn't even grow anymore, unless I cut it. Then it grows back out to the length it was before I cut it in only a few minutes. Now that is annoying and hard to explain at times. Not to mention, my hair is the only thing that 'heals' automatically without me having to croak. It's enough to give me a fucking complex, let me tell you. Since my platinum blonde hair is shoulder length and my bangs have a habit of getting in my eyes, it can be kind of annoying. It doesn't grow or shorten--it's always the same length.
I do have one other ability. It's a very minor ability but it comes in handy. I have very limited Empathy. That means I can't sense all emotions. However, it does mean I can tell when someone's lying or telling the truth. I can also tell if someone is about to become hostile with this ability. It's an ability that I have to mentally turn on though. It's not on all the time--thank god. I think it would have driven me around the bend if I couldn't turn it off. I also have to be looking at the person to use it.
So that's basically what my so-called immortal abilities do.
Another thing I should tell you is that I'm a very young immortal. I just turned 21 not to long ago.
As far as I know, I'm the only immortal of my type in existence and I haven't a fucking clue as to why.
Something very strange was going on. I'll admit it. It was starting to frighten the living hell out of me. It had to do with waking up in a very lush and opulent room that had me more than a little nervous. Usually I woke up in a morgue. I had a friend, Janet, who knew about me and always let me be on my way. Waking up in this place was beyond weird.
I wasn't at all used to being confused. I was immortal and had an IQ of 196 for crying out loud. I thought I should have figured this out easily. This was what I get for being unconscious for the standard three hours, I guess. It can be a major pain in the ass.
Opening my eyes, I found myself staring up at the silk canopy of a king-sized bed. The room was the size of a Presidential Suite at a Hotel. Never staying in such opulence, I wasn't sure what to do with myself. After being kicked out of college, I sort of lived in the low rent side of town. It was hard to get work. At 21, I had became a fairly successful thief and assassin though. Like most things, I learned quickly.
Thinking back over last night, I could have kicked myself. The signs were all there. it was all in the way the J'Kian moved. It was too graceful. Too animalistic. I should have known even before his eyes turned that sick burnished yellow. I had seen enough of them to know. I had killed enough of them to know. For some reason, the possessed and demons always seemed to cross my path--whether I liked it or not.
I blamed the alcohol for not catching it sooner.
"Ah, I see Sleeping Beauty is finally awake," a smooth female voice, which had equal parts of violence and flirtation in it, stated from the doorway. She was wearing black leather trousers that almost seemed painted on and a blood red blouse that was more than a little tight. Her female figure would have fit in perfectly in any nudie magazine in the world. Her eyes were also an almost supernatural green that went well with her raven hair.
"Come to finish me off?" I asked in a sardonic voice.
Audaciously, she actually looked amused. "No, I haven't. In actuality, I've come to ask for help and a favor."
"Look," I started with a sigh. "I can tell you're the same type of being I tried to help last time. That didn't work out to well. In fact, I seem to remember getting shot in the back with a .50 caliber bullet, having my spine severed and my heart blown out the exit wound in my chest. So excuse me, if I'm not in a rush to help another of your kind."
"My kind?" she looked even more amused. "And just what do you think we are?"
"Vampires," I stated in a dead tone. "My grandfather used to tell me about your species when I was a boy. I thought he was full of shit at first. But last night put paid to that. And if helping one of your kind gets me that kind of treatment, then the answer is fuck no." I told her in a very blunt and rude manner. No one ever accused me of being polite, soft and cuddly.
"Do you even know who I am? Do you even know why my daughter acted in such an unseemly manner as to follow an actual enemy into a dark alley? Do you know what I can do for you to help make up for it--even though it wasn't my daughter's fault?" she asked mildly, taking a seat in a chair that was by the bed. I had a feeling it was placed there beforehand just for this situation. This woman struck me as a person that liked to think ahead.
The woman had green eyes that seemed to be ancient and they seemed to almost pierce through me.
"I haven't got the faintest fuckin' clue, save for the fact you're a vamp," I replied truthfully. I knew that by the way she moved. The grace she held herself with. I've never met a human in my life that was that graceful and quiet when they moved. "The only reason I know that is because my grandfather used to tell me stories when I was a kid about vampire society. I thought he was full of it at the time. I guess he wasn't as full of it as I thought."
"My name is Vivian Krosavia. To some, I am the ruler of all the vampires here in North America and in South America. You could say that I have connections in almost all the law enforcement agencies in both countries. The girl you saved, my only daughter, is the princess of my kingdom--for a lack of a better word. And before your small human brain starts blaming her for you getting shot, you need to know something."
I kept my mouth shut. Knowledge was always useful after all.
"The cameras in the club showed that whatever that creature was, drugged my daughter's drink with something that made her docile enough to follow commands. That was how he led her into the abandoned alley. Ordinarily, she would have ripped that being apart for trying that. I haven't a clue as to what he was planning on doing with her though," she added with a weary sigh.
"He was likely going to kill her, dismember her body parts and then eat them one by one. The fucker was a J'Kian demon after all. It's what they do. Just like vampires live off blood, J'Kian live off flesh. They're demons that possess the bodies of weak willed losers that are suicidal or too heavily into drugs," I replied with a cynical tone.
"And just how to you know that?!"
"For some reason, demons of different varieties have been trying to kill me since I was sixteen. The only way to kill a J'Kian demon is to pierce it's eyes with silver. It doesn't matter if it's a knife or a silver bullet." I paused, giving her a flat look. "Is that all you want to know? Or perhaps you'd like to shoot me in the fucking back for being helpful again?"
Vivian gave me a look that was a mixture of sadness, regret and annoyance.
"Look," she started in an annoyed tone. "The guy that shot you is Revvy's bodyguard. He thought you were part of the problem and took care of it. No, he didn't care to ask questions. He just wanted the problem fixed."
I opened my mouth to give off another smartass reply but she beat me to it.
"Before you smart off again, I need to tell you that my daughter is truly innocent. She's an innocent that truly wants your help for some reason. So I'm going to do something that I haven't done in a hundred years: Beg. Will you please help my daughter? The pay and benefits for you would be great."
My empathic abilities were telling me she wasn't lying at all.
I motioned for her to continue.
"My daughter told me of your dream to open a Private Detective Agency. She told me that you would have already done so, save for the fact that you don't have the startup capital. The thing you have to understand is that my daughter has never shown so much initiative about something. She wants to join you at this Detective Agency to help pay back her life debt. Before you ask. Life Debts with vampires are very serious things."
I just raised my eyebrow. The Empathy ability in my head was screaming she was telling the truth and that she really did want to help out myself and especially her daughter. The emotions rolling off her told me that she loved her daughter very much. I was also getting the vague feeling that the mother thought her daughter was extremely attached to me for some reason that was somewhat out of character for her daughter.
Goddman my bleeding heart for forcing me to take chances.
"Just what do you want me to do, lady?" I finally asked tiredly. "And don't think I want ask more questions."
"My daughter told me that you wished to open one of the first Supernatural Detective Agencies in Tristan, California. I would be willing to loan you $100,000--on one condition. You open the Detective Agency and you take my daughter as a partner. Like I said, vampires take debts very seriously and she wishes to stick close to you until her debt is paid. I also have a perfect abandoned apartment building that we can renovate for this endeavor."
I'll admit, my jaw dropped a bit at the amount.
"The apartment building will be yours free and clear, after it's been renovated. It's a four story affair. The first floor will be for the office building, the second floor will be converted to suite for my daughter and the third floor will be a suit for you. The fourth floor will be a dojo and training area for the both of you. The entire building will be in your name and your name alone."
"Damn," I breathed out with a little awe.
"The next thing I will do is use my contacts in the government to get both my daughter and yourself all the concealed weapons permits that you may need for this Endeavour. And believe me when I say, my Coven has plenty of contacts in the government to get this done. Lastly, any money you make will be almost completely yours. You will have to pay me 10% of any checks you get until you pay off the $100,000 dollars you owe me however."
Well, damn, the only thing I could say to such a generous offer was: YES.