In front of me, I had laid out a weathered leather bound book more than half full of random sketches and a bag of oil pastels. I flipped through each page slowly until arriving at a blank page just half way through.
With nothing in mind, my fingers slowly moved over the page. Soon so absorbed I was no longer aware of my surroundings. Dangerously unaware.
My fingers danced along the page of their own accord. Broad shoulders sculpted and contoured. Large black feathered wings emerged on the page from his shoulder blades. He sat on his knees. Arms out by his side, palms up. His head was bowed. The image looked down on him from behind. I titled the bottom, Mercy. It had only taken an hour.
Another page. Another sketch.
A hand took shape on the page. The hand curved as if reaching to take hold of something. Then a dark smudge took the form of a dark droplet of liquid coming off the tip of the middle finger. A cut formed deep across the palm in shades of grey to black. Another droplet running down the length of the finger now…
A loud snap echoed through the house as the lights flashed and then went out along with the power. The stereo went off, silencing Dido’s voice instantly. “Crap.” Luckily, I was used to the dark.
The only remaining light came from a scarce glow of burning embers in the fireplace. Nevertheless, my eyes quickly readjusted. It must be getting ready to storm. Perhaps a bolt of lightning had blown the power. Leaving my book as it lay I stood slowly, still a bit sore, and walked to the window.
It was too quiet to be storming. Perhaps it was only the beginning. Lightning storms are pretty common in Vermont. Just like any stupidly curious human with dull senses, I cupped my hands to the glass and leaned closer, waiting for the sky to light up. Instead however, the shock I received was more than a crack of thunder.
The glass exploded into a million glittering pieces as a force I had never thought imaginable hit me square in the chest- throwing me across the room. Falling back onto the hard wood with a scream, I hit my head on the floor. It felt like a hammer pounding into my skull. My head spun as I lay stunned, the wind knocked out of me.
It took everything I had just to sit up. My ankle throbbed, surely having snapped it again in my landing. The force that had shattered the window and knocked me back was standing just a few feet from me.
A low snarl rippled through the night. The figure took a slow step closer, coming to stand directly over me. His skin was black as night itself but glistened as if made of wet oil. Red gleamed off his flesh by the glowing embers of the fire.
With eyes glowing a dark ruby red, he towered over me dauntingly. He stood as a man but his flesh was of a beast. Almost serpent like. Black scales shined as he moved.
I crawled backwards to the wall by the fireplace. My nails dug into the exposed stone. I watched him saunter slowly after me, stopping just a few feet from me. It wasn’t human.
It wasn’t anything I had seen before in my life.
If I could have stopped myself, I would have kept my mouth shut. “Damien.” Whispering his name caused the beast of a man with the midnight flesh to lunge for me, taking me up in his hand by my throat.
Pinning my body to the wall I hung like a rag doll off the floor. Gurgling from the pressure on my throat, the blood flow cut off, as well as my oxygen, my hands came up clawing worthlessly at his fingers. Kicking my feet back, I braced myself against the wall trying to relieve the pressure uselessly.
“Say his name again so that I may rip your spine out, kitten.” The voice was not from the man who held me. It came from the window and I knew it instantly. The man from the docks.
The old New Englanders accent. It made sense now. Stupid thing to think about at that moment, huh? We can’t help how our minds work. Pictures of British Red coats and blue, with white powder wigs flashed through my mind. Perhaps.
My eyes bulged, rolling back as I became desperate for the blood flow and oxygen to return to normal. The beast who sought to strangle me had his face inches from mine. The breath was indescribable. Let’s just say bad is a minor. Rotten meat was closely associated.
His features were sharply pronounced, nearly jagged. Rough scales framed his brow and spread down his neck. A whisper from the back of my mind supplied the name of what he was. Dragon. I pictured the rotten meat and saw my own corpse.
His lips were pulled back from his teeth. Protruding black fangs easily three times the size of Damien’s and every tooth razor sharp in-between threatened my flesh. A low growl rumbled from his chest up through his hard black lips.
Suddenly jerked away from the wall, the clamp on my throat was unbearable before he chucked me across the room. Sending me flying into a wall only to land on a table that shattered on impact.
Agony overwhelmed me like I had never known. Gasping for the air that was knocked out of me, my body began to succumb to the pain.
A crack alerted me to the break not just in the table but to something snapping internally. Ribs maybe. My right hand moved to my left, pulling out a dagger of wood that had gone straight through the palm.
The one at the window lunged at me, kicking in instinct to take over. Defending myself with the piece of wood, I made a poor attempt to stab at my flying attacker. As he landed, he grabbed my wrist with the hand holding the bloody wooden stake, snapping it back as if it was a twig. Screaming again, my body twisted as I dangled in air.
His voice ruptured into an ear-bleeding laugh. He grabbed my other hand and pulled it to his mouth, slowly licking the blood up from my palm. “So sickeningly sweet. No wonder your blood called him.”
The appalling nausea in my stomach made me feel weak, pathetic. I was fragile. Like Damien had said. Only he forgot to add worthless and frail. A rage began to boil inside of my veins, deadening the pain.
My chest heaved. The breathing deepening to control my mind pulled me away from the torturous pain. He stood, still holding my hand against his mouth. His tongue ground into the open wound. He held me dangling like a lifeless rag doll. I struggled to stand but as I did, he threw me against the windowsill into the broken glass.
Dozens of shards stabbed into my flesh all over my body like searing daggers. Cringing, I swallowed hard to keep from vomiting right then.
They would not be able to stand the smell of my blood for much longer. How much longer did I have now? Hopefully not long. My stomach wouldn’t last much longer before heaving for sure.
Two dull thumps alerted my attention to the sill where I looked up at two glossy black shoes. Tears swelled in my eyes from the pain, glistening in the dark. I didn’t want to look up further. Damien, I’m so sorry.
Crouched down on the sill, his hand took a hold of my chin forcing me to look at him. His fingers brushed through the stream of tears. Bringing them up to his mouth, he licked them away.
My personal demon stood perched on the sill of the shattered bay window. His tenor voice was arrogant as an aristocrat.
The leader of their trio’s demeanor was one of grandeur. Old wealth that you read of in books and see in movies about upper class from the seventeenth century.
He wore ruffles and velvets combined with rich silks and thick satins. Even his body language was flamboyant in his gestures. His flesh was ghost white but thick. Too even. He had an absolutely perfect complexion. His eyes were nearly perfect white. Only the markings of the pupil and outer black ring showed visible color.
“Scour the woods Beckett. He’s bound to be back soon. I’m certain he heard her screams and I’m most certain he felt her pain. It won’t be long now. Demetrius take her to the top of the stairs. I want her to be the first thing he sees. Make it a nice show. However do remember this time that you can’t eat her, or whatever it is you do. At least not until D’Tera is dead.” His hand motioned in the air dismissively.
Beckett, the one from the docks swayed on his feet seeming disoriented. His eyes settled onto me in a way that chilled me to the bone. It was an expression caught between pain and lust.
Beckett’s hand came
up and held to the side of his head as he stared at me. Completely absorbed with me and resulting in him ignoring his leader. “What the hell are you?” He groaned as he swayed in a near drunken stumble. “What did you do to me?”
IIXX
“DEATH TOLLS”
“What’s the matter asshole? Is my blood too rich for you? Maybe too much iron? No? Well hell, maybe you’re just not strong enough.” Spatting blood to the floor at his feet, my gaze lead up to the creature. My stalker. The man nightmares were made of. Just not mine.
To make things clear for you now, I knew damn well he was having a reaction to the bloodstone. With this knowledge also came the understanding that there was no doubt left of my impending death. And power.
My only hope was to piss them all off enough they each fed from me. If I accomplished that then Damien’s chances of survival and dare I hope killing them all, improved greatly.
The other two took great pleasure in Beckett’s pain and his teasing alike. One of the three musketeers, the leader no less, even slapped his leg at such rueful comedy.
“Well now! Look at you, little Anna! You really are something aren’t you? Look how upset such a weak and broken child has made the all mighty hunter.” His hand rose, snapping his fingers before pointing down to me. Before he could speak to order my demise, I went after him.
“Yes, I’m so sure you could handle my blood. If it’s too rich for Beckett here, I know some Nancy like you sure couldn’t manage.” Despite my agony, sarcasm was a well working weapon in my limited arsenal. I wasn’t quite reaching the chiding tone I had aspired for though.
Unable to help myself, I fell into a fit of bitter laughter. Blood splattered from my lips with each dark chuckle brought on by the pain. Lying on the floor helplessly, I stared up at him with a dark glint in my eyes. Hatred.
Before I could even blink, the leader of the mangy pack had my jaw clinched in his hand. Purposefully using enough pressure to crush the lower jawbone, he lift me high off the floor. I cried out in pain. My feet dangled from the ground by nearly a foot.
“I could drain you in under a minute you broken human filth.” Funny, human sounded like the true insult here.
With a spat of blood into his face I gurgled. “Fuck you.”
As if I wasn’t broken enough, his free hand came up and with a horrifically long fingernail, he drug the tip over my breast before lifting me higher to suck against the torn flesh.
His tongue dug down between my breasts and drug harshly over the deep laceration. He tore away what meat he could using his many pointed teeth. His tongue was as sand paper and his saliva burned like acid. I wanted to scream and kick or even cry but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. My body was done.
All at once, he dropped me. I collapsed in a heap onto the floor. “Ahh maybe later, little Anna. Virgin blood isn’t all too appealing to me.” His laughter wasn’t even sinister. It was purely frenzied.
“Now where was I? Ah yes. Beckett! Find Damien!” The humor was gone. He was angry. “I want him here before she dies. Demetrius take the trash out. It smells.” Fancy boy stepped over me as if I was a slimy mud puddle that he desperately wanted to avoid.
Beckett swayed on his feet before staggering outside through the broken window. In the meantime, the other glorified monster began to stumble to the couch. He seemed shaken but fought the poison as if it were a bad trick I’d played on him. Two down. One to go.
The larger beast, Demetrius, was at my side before I heard him move. Reaching down with one massive talon clawed hand, he grabbed hold of my side. It felt as if my eyes were going to pop out of my skull as he picked me up.
Each rib bone snapping was perfectly audible. His fingers dug through my flesh and meat as if I were made of play dough. For a split second, my scream was blood curdling. Through it, I heard their laughter ring in my ears.
My eyes rolled back into my head as the shock came over me. I felt lifeless. My mind was slipping away. Even the pain became a dull throb as I fought to stay conscious. I wasn’t going to last much longer.
Demetrius walked at a leisurely pace up the stairs. My body was held with less concern than an old bag as I was drug up each step with a painful thud.
At last, we reached the top and he let me collapse at the landing. Pain was the only thing allowing me to hang onto my reality. I clung to every agonizing throb. For how long I don’t know.
My eyes so blurred with tears and my blood, it gave the world a hazy ruby glaze. All of my other senses were alert though. The smell of blood was nauseatingly powerful, the taste of blood was overwhelming and putrid. Sense of feel had become my living hell. My ears were ringing, causing every sound in the room to become sorely acute. Each step this demon had taken had pounded like a large daunting drum.
Demetrius looked down at me as I lay in an unmoving pile at his feet. His blood red forked tongue slithered out at me and flicked over his serpentine lips.
I knew better than to move even in cower so I stared blankly back at him. Not allowing myself to even blink as he watched me. It wouldn’t take much to set this beast off and then I would be dead.
Through the railing, I could have seen their leader clearly, though my eyes remained on Demetrius as long as he watched me in turn. The footsteps in the room below were soft but still crunched against the broken glass.
Demetrius’ lips spread wider in a way meant to appear as some wretched smile. Of course, I couldn’t defeat him. If I persuaded him to drink from me, it would be my final act.
How much was left in me? What left was there that I could do for Damien? I was torn between a stubborn instinct to survive and yet desperate for the pain to end.
Damien was all I could think of despite my pain. I wasn’t ready to let go of him, even if it meant it may save him. My mind couldn’t force my body to comply and lift my arm so that Demetrius would drink from my wounds. Maybe my body was succumbing to the death already and I could no longer comply to the will of my own mind.
It looked like Demetrius wasn’t planning to wait much longer for an invitation anyway. His eyes were glowing a brilliant red and slowly but surely he was leaning down to me. The smell of so much blood was simply too great for any such beast to resist.
My eyes finally closed with silent defeat. Let it be quick was all I could hope for. I expected to feel Demetrius tear into my flesh immediately. However, the pain I expected never came. The chaotic sounds from downstairs forced my eyes to open and crane my neck to look.
The door exploded from the hinges, the sound echoing in my head like a bomb had gone off.
Damien.
I could feel him with an entirely new sense I hadn’t known before that moment. The smell of death was in the air. Rotten death. Beckett was dead. Somehow, this knowledge was as certain to me as my own pending demise. My lips curled into a twisted painful smile. As they say, another one bites the dust.
However, Damien’s arrival meant only one thing now. There were only seconds left if that before Demetrius was going to rip my throat out. “Liahm!” Damien’s rough angry voice bellowed through the house so loud it echoed like a cave.
Captain Chaos, otherwise known as Liahm apparently, sat leisurely on the couch. “Careful now, Damien. You should really watch your tone. Demetrius is easy to set off in his new body. You know how painful dragon venom is. You wouldn’t want anything else to happen to your precious human now would you?” He stood slowly and advanced like the lynx.
A dance in sewed between the two of them as they began to circle one another. “If you’ve laid one hand on her, I will skin you alive and pull every bone from your body until you are dead, Faye.” It was not a threat. Damien’s voice was cold as ice and calm as death itself.
“I do highly doubt that but do not worry she is still alive. Barely. She’s a spunky little thing you know. So tasty too. And I’m not a Faye, Damien. Not anymore. I am much more than that now. Do you not agree?”
Liahm had expected Damien to become furious from this information a
nd to act irrationally. Pity for Liahm that Damien wasn’t a fool. He knew if Liahm had drank my blood then the bloodstone had infected him. As if on cue, Liahm faltered in step, staggering so badly he nearly fell over on himself.
“Who turned you, Liahm? The Faye doesn’t usually consort with Vampires. Though I will admit, using Faye magic to force me to leave was quite effective. And before, with Lianna- was that you as well?”
Damien stopped circling him. Liahm was in such a tipsy that Damien simply had to sway side to side to throw him off more.
With fire in his voice, Liahm shot back at Damien. “You idiot! You should know who turned me! You should be grateful when Demetrius rips her to shreds. Your human scum would suffer an agony of eternity because of you. Nekayla comes for you all!”
Demetrius watched the two, standing silent and unmoving. His full focus was on Liahm and Damien. As he primed for a fight, his talons curled in. If I was going to get away from him then this was my chance.
With every ounce of strength left in my body, I made my move, thrusting my weight forward to roll down the stairs. My broken jaw clinched tight from the pain, trying to keep from screaming. There wasn’t much else I could do but I knew it wasn’t enough.
Demetrius came down on top of me in a second’s time. His body was like a cast iron cage. As his knee landed on my hip, I could feel it either break or dislocate.
This was the third time in less than a week I had some form of a man pinning me down with ill plans in store for me. That seemingly strange fact made me rather angry.
At the same time, Damien had gone after Liahm. Their battle sounded as if a tornado had been unleashed in the house.
Demetrius had been aching for my blood since it first spilt. His massive hand clutched to my left forearm and jerked it to his mouth. Black dagger like fangs gleamed in the dark as his tongue snaked out against my flesh, dragging the length of my arm as he pulled me tight against him.
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