Page 480 of Evil Hearts

No. A demon, supposedly. Though I’d heard every half-drunk fool claim they were something extraordinary on Halloween night.

“The underworld’s not a place many want to visit,” he said, his voice deep, low, like the phantom echo from a forgotten nightmare. He leaned forward, his presence gleaming with something far darker than any mortal could ever possess—even the ones who boasted about being evil incarnate. “The suffering there... it is deliciously eternal. The constant wail of damned souls, bound by the torment of their own regrets. It’s a never-ending chorus of agony.”

I snorted, rolling the rim of my glass between my fingers. “And yet it is exactly where you want to take me, isn’t it?”

I took a sip of my drink, letting the burn of the alcohol settle in my throat. I had no doubt he was trying to make an impression—he was good at that, I had to admit. He exuded both confidence and arrogance, two things that always led me down the path of bad relationship decisions.

Were you really considering a relationship with a demon, Lena? Oh, how far you’ve fallen…

Pfft. I always knew I would never have a normal life. Not after my first kill and the rush it gave me.

He didn’t seem bothered by my laughter. Instead, he gave me a look, like he was sizing me up—testing my resolve. “I don’t think you understand, Lena. Darkness is as real as the blood running through your fragile veins.”

The things that came out of this thing’s mouth were too cliche. Too practiced. He couldn’t be the demon he claimed to be. Why was he so forthcoming about everything? It was highly suspicious. Maybe he was a weirdo with a strange talent for elaborate halloween costumes. Or perhaps it was the drink making me rethink my decision to come on this date.

I raised an eyebrow, setting my drink down with a soft clink. “You’re really sticking with this demon thing, aren’t you? You do know I’ve met your type before. Someone gets a little creative with their costume, throws in some dark, mysterious stories, and the next thing you know, they’re the talk of the town… in every woman’s panties.”

Belraxas smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “I’ve lived longer than you can fathom, Lena. I’ve seen more death than you could ever inflict. I’m not some mortal playing at being something more.” His voice dropped, becoming a low, rumbling whisper. “I’ve seen what you do. The way you slip through thecracks of this world, your kills precise, controlled. But you’ll never know true power. Not until you see the underworld.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “I don’t believe in fairy tales, Belraxas. And I certainly don’t believe in demons.” I took another sip, watching him over the rim of my glass, daring him to say something that would make me believe he was anything more than a Halloween lunatic. Mr. Hawkin’s body? Probably a parlor trick. Maybe he was a magician too.

But he only sat back, his eyes studying me like I was the mystery he intended to unravel. “You will,” he said softly. “You will believe me. In time.”

I leaned forward, bringing myself a mere few inches from his face, my smile slow, deliberate and flirtatious. “You’re a fascinating one, I’ll give you that. But I’m afraid I don’t have time for this. I haveotherplans tonight.”

I pushed my chair back, signaling the end of the conversation.

The next victim was easy to track down, his routine betraying him.

A tall, broad, dark haired man that would make any woman’s panty melt, Mr. Dawson was a high school teacher who not only had a taste for young blood, but their mothers too. He thrived on chaos, using his smooth words and cock to shatter lives and tear families apart.

It didn’t escape my notice that he chose to dress as a high school jock for Halloween. How predictable.

He currently laid on my examination table, strapped down, naked and screaming behind his ball gag. A much better position than a washed up quarterback, if I do say so myself.

“Now, now. It’s rude to yell at your host, you know? I mean, you didn’t even take off your shoes when you came in, I had to do it for you,” I chastised.

His eyes were wild as he took in all the tools around me in the simple, sterile room. The thing about growing up in a tight community is that you get hookups when you need it. As long as you cleaned up after you were done, no one questioned anything.

Dr. Vichet was our local doctor for the community. My family had helped him when he first came over to the states, lending him money to get his credentials and start his practice. We weren’t rich by any means, but we were hard workers. We scrapped all the money we accumulated “under the table” to give him the best chance at starting a new life in the land of the free.

His sense of duty and loyalty to the community made it impossible for him to refuse when I asked for a favor. Though his eyes betrayed suspicion about my extracurricular activities, the only warning he gave me was when the first shift of staff arrived to open the practice.

No one ever really questioned what went on in the hood anyhow.

Mr. Dawson’s muffled cries took me away from the memories of my childhood and I gave him a sharp glare before snapping my gloves on.

“You thought you were slick, messing with the minority girls because they were gullible. Promising them a life beyond what they knew only to weasel your way into their homes and fuck their mothers behind their backs.”

At the end of the day, they were all the same—on a highway to the pits of hell where they belonged. I was just the person who helped them transition there sooner.

Adjusting my ponytail, I pushed a few of my wayward dark strands behind my ear as I hummed, looking over my various tools.

With wicked satisfaction, I grabbed the scalpel and lightly ran it across his broad chest, watching the way his skin pebbled.

“It’s not so fun when you’re the one tied down, is it?” I taunted, pressing the sharp end of the blade a little deeper into his skin until a bead of blood ran down his side. “You enjoy dominance too much to ever think you’d find yourself in such a position.”

I climbed onto the table and straddled him, watching the way his pupils dilated with both fear and lust. He was disgusting. Did he really think any woman would waste their time kidnapping him just to fuck him? The arrogance made my lip curl with revulsion.

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