Kiss of the Demon Girl Page 2

  “Cops? Seriously?”

  “They think it was a Yakuza hit that I was involved in.”

  “Well I can tell you right now this charbroiled specimen was not Yakuza or known to them for that matter.”

  “Who is he?”

  “I don’t know but I was going through what remained of his wallet. Found a handwritten address that survived the fire; want me to check it out?”

  “Give it me.” Knowing Jim, he was going to charge for that service as well. “I’ll check it out, my car gets out of the shop today anyways. Anything else?”

  “Just the usual, inverted pentagram necklace, just like the last guys you killed.”

  “Great.”

  “I’m going to say aggressive recruitment techniques for a crazy demonic cult. They must really want you to be a member.”

  “I’m sure that’s the case… Do you know anything about cults like that?”

  “Hey, I just deal with all things extremely illegal. Satanic cults? Below my pay grade.”

  I gave him my parting words and ended the call. It was still too early to pick up my car or head to work. Shower and a nap, the former being something I should have done as I got in last night if my hair was any sign of that.

  The partially rusted shower faucet spat out what little hot water the building had to provide to its tenants. Not an issue for me, my talents took care of that. An encirclement of tiny flames twisted around my tattooed body, its heat turned up the temperature of the shivering shower water on my behalf. The water that collected on the bottom of the tub slowly evaporated into steam that rose up to aid in the battle of keeping my body comfortably warm.

  Drying off, as one might have guessed, needed no towels. I allowed the heat from lingering flames that swarmed me to take care of that. The water that draped my wet body boiled away and joined the party of water vapor that became trapped within my dank washroom. My skin remained flawless, the heat, flames, and water, boiling off did no damage. I didn’t feel any pain either, in fact I enjoyed it. It felt like I was receiving the most expensive massage the world had to offer, my joints became relaxed, my flesh tingled with delight.

  My hand wiped away a streak of fog covering my mirror unveiling my naked reflection. I looked at the woman and her bodysuit of Yakuza tattoos that looked right back at me with the same gaze. Tiny pillars of flames started to subside into oblivion sending steam away from my dyed hair and back.

  “Who are you?” A question I’d found myself asking repeatedly after my discharge from the hospital.

  Chapter Three

  I sat in my car and waited for the typical New York City evening rush hour traffic to let up so that I can merge and drive away from the repair shop. An empty McDonald’s soft drink cup fell from my passenger side dashboard onto the floor—where it belonged amongst old fast food paper bags, napkins, and burger wrappers. I’m pretty sure there used to be a passenger-side seat there too. Hard to tell with all the trash that had built up there.

  I was really hoping the repair people would have taken it upon themselves to give the inside a quick cleanup for me. I even gave them the old flirty smile and twirling a finger through my hair to entice them. You get what you pay for I guess, and I paid them to fix up this banged-up piece of shit I called my wheels.

  The never-ending sea of aggressive NYC driving let up just enough for me to join the fray amongst car horns blaring. Yeah, fuck you too, buddy; I got to go to work. It’s been awhile since I sat in this car, last time I was in it I went to visit Isamu along with a few Yakuza members as they counted the cash they collected from their most recent business dealings. We were supposed to head out for some drinks and karaoke, then back to his place for his hands to rip my clothes off so that we could fuck all night.

  I didn’t make it very far. Cops had other plans.

  Guns went off and I got hit in the crossfire. Everyone else ended up dead or in cuffs. Fuck the police.

  I guess I should be thankful that’s the worst of it. Cops had nothing on me to press charges, as far as they were concerned I was just screwing a member of the gang. Just a dumb girl that went after the wrong type of alpha male, I heard one of them say. None of them knew of the drugs I helped Isamu sell or the cut of the profits I deposited into my personal bank account. And I want to keep it that way. Not because I’m trying to be a good girl, oh no, I’m too far gone for that. I’m a bitch, straight-up, one that’s going to make the streets of New York turn red with blood when I find out who the fuck keeps sending shady people after me. Those funds I got? It’s the carrot on a stick that will entice Jim to keep doing business for me.

  Another traffic light, terrific. I’m going to have to start leaving for work earlier, these streets are going to become a parking lot in the next two or three weeks when the rush for Christmas shopping starts. I waited for the lights to turn green, only to let every car but mine go through before it turned back to red. A pleasant song came on the radio, Enlightenment by Lexi Hartridge.

  She was New York’s pride and joy, a young girl that became an instant pop music celebrity. Singing all sorts of songs that promoted positive vibes and thinking, all while sending a message to the masses to never give up your hopes and dreams. I wasn’t a fan of pop music, but I admit, Enlightenment had a nice beat to it. I found myself listening to it a lot after my discharge from the hospital. Lexi herself visited me when I was recovering. Not that it mattered, it was some publicity stunt anyways since people in the media ate it up when they heard of it. Too bad I couldn’t remember what we spoke about. The doctors had me pumped full of meds. The good shit. Maybe a little too good, I wondered if the drugs they gave me led to the development of my talents?

  Multiple aggressive honks howled at me from behind, pulling my thoughts away from the musing and hypnotizing music back into reality. There was a clear path beyond the green traffic lights. I stomped the pedal and sped away before the lights changed. The honking continued… asshole was lucky I needed to get to work in a hurry. Had half a mind to pull over and send a big fuck off fireball through his windshield. Of course, that would have revealed to everyone in their cars and on the sidewalks, that I had my talents. The world wasn’t ready for a pyromancing Japanese-American with a chip on her shoulder.

  I pulled into the parking lot of an unimpressive plaza, the location of my job. Mario's old-school pizza. Former meth hustler and Yakuza girl, working in a Pizzeria? How the mighty have fallen. Whatever, it pays the rent and allows me to use my savings toward my current project in life… to say the least.

  I left my car and pulled a ziplock bag full of sardines, out from my backpack. Why the fishy treats? A meow came toward me as I neared the back-door entrance. A nameless tabby cat approached, its tail swayed as it saw me and my tasty treats. The cat began to chew on the snacks I gave it as I ran my hand across its head, down across its collarless neck onto its back. Not sure who the owner of the cat was, or if they even cared that it spent its days hanging around this area with no food or shelter. I made it a habit to feed it bits of unsellable pizzas from time to time. You know, those ones that people call in to order, but never come to pick it up.

  “Reika, hurry the fuck up.” I heard my boss Mario scream out from the ajar back entrance.

  “Gotta go,” I said to the cat, patting its head one last time.

  There I was, ready for my shift, wearing this stupid apron and kitchen attire, making pizzas for the hungry mouths of the people in Hell’s Kitchen and the nearby area on a Friday night. Our whole team was buzzing around, building various pizzas, placing them into the oven, or boxing finished pizzas to be sent out. Some of us stood and stared in awe at the dreadful line up of walk-in customers. We looked like soldiers peeking out from the trenches watching the enemy advance on our position, knowing there was nothing we could do to prevent it.

  I felt sorry for the gal up front, taking orders, and working the cash register. It’s a line of work I sure as hell couldn’t handle, would have been fired ages ago for telling diffic
ult customers where to go. Like the rude middle-aged woman barking a lengthy list of demands and disappointments with our service. Fuck her, fuck them all.

  I turned away from ignorant customers up front as I felt the evilness inside me grow and rage. A pocket of heat slowly developed within my clenched fists and would have grown larger had I remained looking. Didn’t want to risk an incident with my talents popping off without my control, came dangerously close to that last week when Mario grilled me for being late.

  “Yo, Reika,” a timid voice called out to me. “Let’s get to work before Mario sees us standing around.”

  The source of the voice was none other than Nick, some young kid working his first job ever here. He, along with myself and Ryan, were tasked with building pizzas tonight. Oh Ryan, sexy Ryan, where are you when I need you? I held the newly placed order ticket the printer rudely spat out toward me. It was a pizza with an overly convoluted specification. One side with cheese, another side without, another with just meat, not too much sauce… and allergies to garlic. You know the primary staple in most Italian foods, right? An ingredient we don’t go out of our way to prevent cross-contamination with because… well who the fuck is allergic to that? Nuts and seafood, I could see, but garlic? Give me a break!

  “Can you do that one?” Nick asked.

  I snorted. “Get fucked, I’m not doing that.”

  “I’m just afraid I might make it wrong and get someone sick.”

  I reached for the pizza dough and ingredients. “Fine.” I could care less if they died from their allergies, it wouldn’t be the first time I killed someone. The shady people sending those stalkers after me could attest to that.

  Ten minutes later the pizza was slapped into the oven. Yes, it took that long to build. God, I fucking hate my job. A firm finger tapped my shoulder. A smile grew on my face, a rare sight these days. I faced the person that tapped me, Ryan.

  He was a good catch, nice, tanned body, short, brown hair, and follows a vigorous workout routine, bold. His presence made my heart flutter and my face flush slightly, anyone that said never date your coworkers is full of shit.

  “Did you get super hungover like me the other night?” Ryan said.

  “Yeah kinda,” I bit my lip then added, “of course, if you had texted me like you said you were going to, you would have known!”

  “Sorry, I was busy with stuff.”

  “Such as?”

  “Like recovering from a hangover.” We shared a laugh while completely ignoring the next pizza bill that arrived. Nick was on his own. “So, wanna get smashed again?”

  He was bold remember? And it was that direct no bullshit request that made him triumph over the other men in this place. I was the hot new girl and he was the only one that had the guts to try and break through my shell and take me out. It was the only positive thing I had going in life.

  I couldn’t let Isamu’s passing at the hands of the police hold me back. I needed to move on, and let’s be honest, I needed to get together with someone that wasn’t going to get me killed because of the line of work they were doing. I love my badass men just like the next woman, but sometimes too much badassery can teach you a lesson you’d rather not have to endure. Ryan was perfect, he wasn’t going to get me into any trouble but wasn’t afraid to take a few risks in life, one of them being dating me.

  “Let’s do something exciting,” I said with a sultry look.

  “Does that something involve us making a lot of noise?”

  I had to think about that one. Whoever was ordering people to kill me tended to wait one or two weeks before they sent another. I was in the grace period, whatever we planned it had to be soon. I couldn’t risk him getting in the crossfire, much like how I got in the crossfire in Isamu’s life. Too bad we both worked night shifts this whole week… fuck me. Oh, and there was still the debacle with the cops running their investigation, double fuck me. I needed this shit to be behind me yesterday so that I could get on with my life.

  “Hey, you two!” Mario’s voice roared toward us, causing our bodies to step away from each other and act busy. “If you’re planning to fuck, go use the washroom.”

  “Seriously, boss?” Ryan said with enthusiasm.

  “Yeah, just when you’re off shift, so that I’m not paying you,” said Mario. “Now get to work, or poor Nick is gonna have a stroke.”

  I went back to work. “Sorry, Luigi,” I snickered to my asshole boss.

  He retorted. “Don’t call me that!”

  “Well you’re not super, so you can’t be Mario,” I said. “Luigi was never super either.”

  Mario shook his head and stormed to the front where the lineup of walk-in customers continued to pile up. “Fuck you, Reika,” were his parting words. Did I mention I hate my job?

  A depressing hour of making pizzas passed, covering our clothes with flour. Mario called out to me with a packaged pizza box in his hands. “Reika, you got your car back, right?”

  I leaned my back against the wall with my arms crossed as the last pizza order entered the oven. “Yeah, I did.”

  “Good.” Mario held the pizza box up. “Deliver this pizza for me, will ya?”

  I groaned. “Why the fuck can’t our delivery boys do it?”

  “’Cause they’re all stuck in Friday night traffic,” said Mario. “Orders are slowing down anyways. I don’t need all of you guys standing around doing nothing.”

  I jammed my flour-coated thumb at Nick. “He can drive, send him.”

  “So you and Ryan can sneak off into the washroom and fuck? No, now get your ass in gear.”

  “Well maybe if you didn’t plant the idea in our heads…”

  “Reika…” Mario’s tone was firm.

  Ryan stepped forward. My knight in shining armor. “I’ll go, Mario.”

  “Thank you for being a hardworking member of the team, Ryan,” Mario said.

  Ryan moved over to Mario to get the pizza as Mario read the address to him. My heart skipped a beat when I heard it. The address. My hands gripped a hold of my phone, my fingers scrolled along the touch screen, ignoring the fact that bits of crusted pizza sauce and flour came away from my fingers and onto the screen. I found Jim’s most recent text message… the address he found on the body.

  It was a perfect match. That pizza was going to the location my attacker had an interest in. It was an opportunity to follow up on a lead while not having to skip out on work. What were the odds such a thing would happen?

  “Wait! I’ll go!” I yelled while running over to the two, dusting my apron and pants clean.

  Mario took the pizza box back from Ryan. “Make up your mind!”

  “I’ll do the job,” I pleaded.

  Chapter Four

  My car was once again stuck in traffic as the pizza order sat in the back seat waiting for me to arrive at the address. I hoped that my efforts tonight were going to pay off in a big way. I really don’t want to string Ryan into a relationship where deadly encounters lurked around the corner every other week. Part of me considered simply not pursuing things with him at all until I took care of these problems. But that would also result in me being alone, more so than I felt now. As far as we knew, I was the only one with my talents, talents that separated me from the normalcy of human life.

  I double-checked the address printed on the bill of the pizza box versus the text message from Jim. For sure I was heading to what appeared to be a condo downtown. Sadly, the address Jim gave me had no information about what the suite number would be, so here’s hoping the person that ordered the pizza was where I needed to be.

  The traffic slowly began to ease up, allowing me to reach my destination faster. The night life of New York played outside of my car’s windows. Pedestrians walking the streets, many of them dressed up as they walked to or from a bumping club. Bars and restaurants were jam-packed of patrons. Street vendors offered their goods to those that passed by, unaffected by the cold November air that gripped the city in preparation for winter. New York’s
skyline and bright lights blotted out the stars in the clear, cloudless, night skies.

  Ads promoting Lexi’s upcoming concert at Madison Square Gardens were posted everywhere, highlighting her young nineteen-year-old porcelain skin, fiery, long red hair, and elegant goth dresses and corsets she was known to wear. Speaking of Lexi, her song came on the radio again, I had to switch it off and plug my cell phone into the radio. I needed confidence building music, I played Dirty New Yorker by Mobb Deep, may Prodigy rest in peace. Every second brought me closer to the condo and closer to potential danger. I could very well be walking into a trap. My attackers came at me with the intent to kill and epically failed, but this might be them trying something different. Besides, the lyrics of the song described the person I’ve become; a dirty New Yorker, someone you don’t want to fuck with, not with the set of magical talents I have.

  My head bobbed up and down to the beat of the song, my fingers tapped the sides of the wheel in unison, my confidence grew, and my fear dwindled. I was ready for anything life was going to throw at me.

  I arrived at the condo and looked up at its tall, sleek exterior. If I didn’t know any better, I think this was probably the most expensive high-rise building in the city. All that money, and they ordered a pizza from some meh pizzeria in Hell’s Kitchen. Whatever, I don’t judge. Unless you have an allergy to garlic and order a pizza.

  I had to let loose a wow sounding whistle from my lips. The lobby was fucking immaculate. The patterned floor tiles shined as if they were polished every hour, highly decorated chandeliers hung down from the ceiling, the marble walls next to the security desk were unmatched. I wouldn’t be surprised if they all had gold-plated toilet seats.

  I got buzzed in and took the elevator up to the mid-level floor to make the delivery. Even the halls within were all maintained and decorated. It would easily cost millions just to live here. It was a miniature high-rise mansion. I knocked on the door and prepared for what was to come next, as I looked left to right to ensure nobody was lurking around. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, sweat began to form across my forehead, the evilness within me awoke and was ready to burn the whole building down if necessary.