Meet Delilah

He stared at the bodies on the ground. At the girl covered in blood.

Her eyes narrowed as she stood up.

"You're late."

"You appear to have lost your temper." Her Master tutted. He approached the nearest body, avoiding the slowly expanding pool of blood and excrement with practised ease. His nose wrinkled at the pungent aroma as he knelt close to the deceased.

Delilah huffed at his reprimand but fell silent as he took hold of the dead man's broken jaw to turn his head. Dead, cold eyes met those of the recently murdered, and her Master sighed as he dropped the head. He was admittedly appeased by the cracking sound made by the broken neck.

As he stood, he straightened his pristine suit and turned to Delilah. He had a gaze that demanded to be met, despite the body's every instinct to turn away. Delilah met his gaze defiantly, and he would have smiled, had the situation been less unpleasant.

"Did you at least acquire the information we require before disposing of our only source?" This elicited a childlike grin from Delilah, her pig tails swinging as she bobbed her head proudly.

"Of course I did. You should have heard them squealing after I dealt with that one." She nodded her head toward what appeared to be a crooked heap, seeped in blood. Her childlike grin turned sinister with devilish pride, and her Master simply had to get a closer look.

He strode toward the heap, pleased to see that it was indeed a body. A woman, he realised with great relish as he knelt closer. It had been impossible to tell from any small distance. The face- or lack thereof- offering no identifiers, save for the fact that this misshapen lump had once been human. This close, however, he could see the mound of a breast, exposed through torn clothing, but clothed once more by blood oozing from the neck. Upon closer inspection he was delighted to see that the girl has used no weapon, the gash made entirely from the fracture, bone tearing through skin in a deliciously jagged fashion. It made him shiver with joy. Such beauty.

As he let his eyes roam over the carcass, his pride swelled. Not a single bone left unbroken. He would wager his life on it if he had one.

"Not bad." He praised as he rose to his feet once again. He did not offer praise lightly and was satisfied to see Delilah take it with nothing more than a grateful smile. She was growing.

"However, you have made quite a mess here." He saw that she was about to protest, her young features forming an unattractive pout. She was silenced with nothing more than a raised brow. He spoke again only when he was assured that she would remain compliant. "You know what awaits you, should you fail to control yourself."

Delilah shuddered, and for a moment looked no more than her few short years in this life. Satisfied with her reaction, he turned from her. "I expect a full report by sunrise." He ordered before he simply vanished.

"Yes, sir." Delilah mocked a salute, but when a passing rat startled her, she quickly turned back to the bodies. She grabbed the first by the ankles, muttering to herself as she began the tedious clean up. "You have no idea how easy you got off."

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Birth had been an interesting experience for Delilah, or rather Rebirth. Delilah could not remember her mortal life, but she remembered the beginning of this one very well.

To mortals the soul was a great, mysterious thing, its existence not even believed by all. Down here people knew better. The soul was a precious thing, a commodity like no other. Demons took pleasure in bartering with humans for their souls, then later in torturing them. Necromancers worked in the art of raising souls from the dead, and enslaving them. Those of the highest order could even brew a soul from scratch, or so Delilah had heard.

Delilah had been brought into this life by a demon. First he sent his lackeys to torture her, then he would come to her and offer to set her free, if she agreed to work for him. As a young child, it didn't take long for the pain to outweigh the fear of what working for him entailed, and she accepted.

She had loved her Father at first. He taught her how to survive. Not only how to survive, but how to prosper in this new world. She was one of many recruits, and her was like a Father to all of them. Without him they would surely be lost, as all of his recruits were young children. He told them that this was because he felt it was his duty to take care of the younger members of their society.

This was not true. In fact the reason that he preferred to work with the children was because they succumbed quicker to the torture, and as recruits they were perfect. They were willing to do anything to please him, and once he taught them how to fend for themselves, how to defend themselves, their small stature gave enemies a false sense of security.

Delilah was a quick study, and was soon the strongest in her class. One day her Father told her she could proudly call herself Demon now, and she had almost burst with pride.

Things didn't stay so sweet forever though. As a fully fledged demon, she had access to far more of the underworld's resources. She read book after book, trying to learn everything she could about mortals, so she could find the best ways to torture them. She also spoke to many higher level demons, keen to learn from them. He Father didn't like this, but she was sneaky.

It was through her new connections that she learned how she had come to this place.

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Delilah remembered this as she threw the mutilated bodies of the day's work onto a flaming heap. Despite the heat she shivered.

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She had been a young human girl, eleven years of age, and travelling in the car with her parents. Their car had been hit by a truck, crushed in the collision, her father dying upon impact, her mother lasting just long enough to make a deal with a demon- her Father. Her mother had begged for her life, promising to give the demon her daughter in return. Of course the demon had accepted, and that was how he'd become Delilah's Father.

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Eyes rapt on the fire, watching the clothes melt and the bodies burn, not even turning her nose from the stench of singed flesh, she remembered the night she had confronted Him.

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She'd been distraught. How could he have lied to her? She shouted and stamped her feet, looking more like an eleven year old human girl than a century old demon.

Her Father had calmed her down though. He'd always had a way with the recruits. He assured her that the only reason he had lied to her was because he didn't want to hurt her. After all, of course finding out that her mother had sold her soul in order to save her own life would be devastating news. He had hoped she would never find out.

She felt reassured by his words, but stubborn as always, she demanded to know where her treacherous mother was now. Time moved differently down here, and though it had been a hundred years for her, she knew it would have been only ten on The Surface. After a hundred years of training as a demon, she had a mind to teach her mother a lesson.

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Delilah shivered as the last of the embers burned down. Enough reminiscing. She had a report to deliver.