I'm not your type, but you're mine

Her shoes crunched against the debris beneath her feet - small rocks, a candy wrapper, flattened cigarette butts, and broken glass littered the pavement, providing uneven footing for a woman in tall stiletto heels. Regardless, the blonde stepped toward the alley with a supernatural grace and entered the tunnel leading her to a narrow street. She saw the man just beyond the short distance of the covered passage - the back of his black tweed jacket - soaked by the unrelenting rain. God cried down upon them this evening. If there was a god. 

And if she did not know better, she would have questioned if it was just someone kneeling down looking for something they had lost on the ground. It was dark as midnight, but Port Gomorrah was always dark. Black. Stuffy. Unpredictable. Its simulated rain usually too cold to be enjoyable, and the artificial sky eternally void of stars. There were plenty of neon lights to go around so why pay for stars, some argued. Port Gomorrah was like a gothic cyberpunk haven. 

But Kiera knew better. A woman lay on the ground beneath the man. She saw the woman's shoes pointing in opposite directions, her left foot twitching. Red high heels were intact. Expensive. The kind of shoes Kiera picked up on one of her shopping sprees. Maybe she'd go shopping tomorrow for a new pair. How she loved walking around in an exquisite pair of heels. Current season only though. A good shoe could elevate any outfit, and she loved how it elongated the leg and shaped the calf. 

She surveyed the situation closely then, focusing on the matter at hand. She had been looking forward to facing off with this man she had been tracking for the past week or so. She glanced to the woman, not certain the brunette was still alive. She stopped just behind the man and reached down. Her Dark Sight had brought her to the demon's exact location. Kiera knew his pattern and knew he would kill his victim before the night was over. She learned everything about him she could since the first night she saw him, when he had sexually assaulted and murdered another woman. That victim was brunette too.

The Demon Hunter weaved long fingers into his thick locks and pulled his head back. His face held a look of pleasure and surprise as he pulled out of his victim in shock. Kiera's full lips parted. "I'm not your type," the blonde whispered to her demon, leaning in so he could feel her breath upon his skin. "But you're mine," she said as she inhaled deeply and began siphoning his essence. Only she could see the green mist of his soul leave his body. 

She noticed movement from the other woman. Good. She had come to and was scrambling away. Kiera pointed toward the tunnel, her gaze still holding her demon's as she continued to draw in his soul, savoring the taste of him upon her tongue before his captured soul traveled through her veins.

The woman's hurried footsteps moved in the direction Kiera had pointed and then grew distant.

A humanoid husk lay in the middle of one of the dark streets of the Miyoto District. It would be nearly impossible to determine its identity.