Rebellious Hearts

“Beg.”

The single word comes out as a hiss, the pitless abyss inside of me already whirring to life as my lips draw near that of the boy beneath me. Just the tiniest partition of his lips and the tendrils of his soul will slither from that sultry mouth of his to my own, feeding my insatiable hunger to consume every soul the earth has to offer. Every fiber of my being vibrates in anticipation, knowing I will take my fill of the young tonight.

It’s both a blessing and a curse being a demon, the stuff of nightmares human parents tell their children to encourage ideal behavior. Little do they know we’re real until they’re faced with looking us in the eye as we suck free the piece of them that truly makes them human. Without a soul, humans – and other creatures alike – become walking shells, stumbling towards the finish line of death, but salvation won’t await them. Soulless creatures aren’t welcomed home by their gods once they’ve taken their last breaths. They’re shunned to hell, where my kind waits to torment them until the end of time.

The boyish face beneath mine, scrunches his lips together, determined not to let them part for me. He knows the moment he speaks his soul will be mine to take and I will not hesitate. He knows the rumors about me. Our kind do not live a communal life fueled by the need for companionship, but over the years we’ve learned hierarchy works. The one who rises and shows they will lead and demand blood for those who cross us become untouchable.

I’m that one. The demons may not have a true queen, but that’s exactly what I’ve become to those who inhabit the streets of Chicago, poised and ready to feed off all the innocence constantly wandering the streets. Large cities overpopulated, unassuming humans too enthralled in everyday life and attempting to find pleasure in touristy attractions make for the best snacks. We relocated here some decades ago, growing tired of New York City and the wolf packs lingering in upstate New York and Pennsylvania, constantly chomping at the bit to destroy another of my kind, my family.

This world, enveloped in fiction and fantasy from movies and books, still believes that angels are a demon’s worst enemy, and blood feuds are what keep vampires and werewolves occupied. Wrong. It’s all wrong. The ultimate enemy of a demon are the werewolves themselves. While we aim to destroy life, they choose to protect it. With the reality that our races will never see eye-to-eye, we continue the endless war of murdering one another and losing zero sleep over it.

As if creating a slow motion picture, my fingers wrap around the young wolf’s chin, forcing his eyes to mine. Clucking my tongue, I chose words meant to coax him into a fight, “Now, Now, little pup. The harder you make this, the worse it will be. So give your queen what she wants and beg like a good boy.”

A deep growl rumbles from his chest and out his mouth, his canines growing as he does. That sound. That blessed sound of fighting, despite knowing loss is the only outcome, ruffles the butterflies of excitement fluttering in my stomach.

“You are not a queen, demon.” The final word said like a curse.

Harsh, laughter bubbles out of me, my head falling back exposing the thin column of my neck, while my leather-clad legs stay crouched over my prey. He’s a fighter. It will be that much more fun for his friends to watch not only his soul, but that of his wolf, sail from the depths they are buried in within him. When I’m done, they’ll be next. Usually we let our food live, but when it comes to the werewolves, we slaughter them like the worthless pieces of meat they are.

“The wolves won’t stand for this,” he spits in my face, the first tendrils of dark shadow flowing between us, pausing his words. The writhing of his body beneath my grasp, elicits a moan of pleasure from me. It’s the only thing better than sex, feeling their sadness as pieces of them settle into my internal purgatory.

“Let them come for me, little wolf. They’ll all die too.”

I waste no more words on him, the human portion of his soul free-flowing into me first, then his wolf following. His body shakes uncontrollably as if in the throes of a seizure, the grass of the park grounds, likely leaving stains on his light gray t-shirt. A last jerk lifts his shoulder blades before they crash again with a thud, his eyes staring blankly at the night sky.

Unlike the mouthy pup I just devoured, his friends stay silent, knowing their fate all too well. Between myself and the six other demons standing in the shadows with me, they wouldn’t get away anyhow. No need to fight the inevitable of what’s to come for them. So they don’t, their final howls escaping them as I swallow down their wolves. I should have shared with my fellow demons, but tonight was about making a statement to the Chicago Pack. So much for creativity. They’ve taken the lives of too many of my kind, so I will take their pups.

Ten bodies lay sprawled in the middle of Millennium Park, in an open area for anyone to see. I may be a ruthless killing machine, but I’m smart. We do our business in the dark of night, careful not to draw attention we don’t need. We may be demons, but we look as human as can be, so being arrested by these worthless cops really puts a damper on our plans. It’s near impossible to explain to a judge why a cop goes from questioning you for murder to becoming a lifeless zombie and letting you walk. Been there; done that.

“Alistair,” I call out to the most senior of my personal security.

“Yes ma’am.” His tone is even, subservient, just the way I like them to be.

“You boys finish them. Don’t clean up the mess. Leave them for the wolves to find.” Waving a hand, I saunter off, the click of my stiletto heeled boots music to my ears as I head home.

For anyone that could hear it, the sound of our claws tearing into flesh, would turn a stomach, but not mine. For me, it’s the sound of joy, it’s the awareness of leveling the playing field, and the peace of knowing there’s one less wolf wandering the city, threatening to take another damn thing from me.

A smile crests my lips, the wind blowing my long dirty blonde hair into a swirl of flailing strands behind me. By morning, the Alpha and Beta will know. There’s another reason I chose those boys. The first one I took was the Alpha’s son.

Come after me daddy. I’ll be waiting for you.