Very little of the woman’s elegance remained. Her blouse was a tattered mess and exposed a portion of a swirling, interlocking blue tattoo on a pale strip of her shoulder. Her skirt had once been pink but now looked to be a shade of ash, spattered with old blood. She wore no shoes. Her feet looked red and chapped. Her physical beauty remained undiminished, but a hint of madness glittered in her eyes, and when, instinctively, hungrily—he was still so hungry—he reached for her mind. Madness pirouetted there, too. She drew in a breath and turned her face to his. She wasn’t completely gone yet, but there was little left of the whipcord intelligence he’d grudgingly admired in Crimson City. She was a shell of that woman now.
“Feed.” Jaise pushed Masters toward him. She stumbled and ended up inches from him. Inches.
Korzha breathed in. Gladly, he thought. Oh, gladly. Her blood called to him, not in a whisper but in a torrent of beating heart and heat. She smelled human, and inside he was hollow. Demon blood left him wanting, feeling worse than hungry. He needed to fill his emptiness. Korzha turned his head to Jaise but the smell of Masters, the pulse of her heartbeat, all of her drummed in his body and through him. What it cost to look away from her sent him to his knees.
Jaise crossed his arms over his chest. Diffuse light came from all directions at once and glinted off his hair and in his eyes. He added a stipulation: “Turn her, fang.”
Yes, Korzha thought. Yes. He trembled. He craved, yearned for, starved for everything there was before him. But with a wrench, he put away the hunger. He and Masters agreed on at least one thing: made vamps were dangerous. “That is not advisable, Jaise.”
The demon leaned against the wall and with one finger, swung the door to the hallway closed. In the gloom, Masters blinked. Korzha could smell her fear. He could take some blood, he thought. He could have some. Just a bit. He could slake some of his thirst. Enough to dampen his quivering need.
“She’s no use to us anymore,” Jaise said. “If you turn her, you’d be doing her a favor.”
Korzha said nothing.
“No,” Masters said. She stared at him. “Fucking demons.” Her voice cracked. “Bastard fang.”
“Humans are weak.” Jaise went on as if the Councilwoman hadn’t spoken. “The strongest of them only lasted a month from the time Aslet bound them. Make her, and she might be useful enough to keep. Maybe strong enough to open the portal again.”
“How did you get humans into Orcus?” Korzha asked.
Jaise’s smile sent a chill racing down Korzha’s spine. “A rauthima summons.”
“Which is?”
The demon’s lip curled and his arctic grey eyes darted to his captive. “A rauthima summoning brings a demon to the Overworld against his will. He’s stolen from his home, from the arms of his loved ones, all to service some human’s desire. Doesn’t matter if he’s willing. Nothing can stop it. The minute he reaches completion, as soon as whatever bastard or bitch summoned him is done compelling him to mate, he’s banished from the Overworld. But there’s nothing that says a demon with enough power can’t bring his summoners back with him.” Jaise grabbed Masters’s chin and stared into her face. Flames leaped in his eyes. “You thought you could control the demon you called. Isn’t that so, human?”
“I didn’t know what she was going to do.” Masters moaned. “We thought it was a game. I thought it was all in fun.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes.”
His fingers tightened. “You were wrong, weren’t you?”
“Yes.” Her voice was broken.
“You could not control the demon you called,” Jaise said. He released her, giving her a push. “Aslet’s young, but he is very, very strong.” He shrugged and looked at Korzha. “Aslet brought them to back to Orcus with him. It’s too bad—” he cocked his head toward Masters “—that humans die so easily after they’re bound by the spell that lets them survive here.”
“Vampires can also die.” Korzha cocked his head and considered his options. There weren’t many.
The demon’s mouth twitched. “You won’t die easily. You know that, Korzha. We both know that. You’re fucking immortal.”
“I won’t make her.” Korzha didn’t look at Laura again. Smelling her, hearing the beat of her heart was torture.
“If you refuse,” Jaise said, as if Korzha hadn’t done so, “I have no use for her. I’ll give her to my guards.” Masters made a small sound. The corner of the demon’s mouth curled. “She’ll die, but it’ll take a while. A really long while.”
Laura stared at Jaise, her eyes wide with horror. The color had drained from her face.
“I don’t think that’s the way she was hoping to go,” the demon said. “She saw what happened to the others when they ended up being useless.”
Korzha’s belly quivered. He understood Jaise better and better. He was cunning. Ruthless. Deadly. The injury done him outside the portal had been about many things. Korzha hadn’t been this hungry since the early days of his conversion, when he knew nothing, when he bumbled through his new existence with all the sophistication of a newborn lamb. Jaise had known he would rise hungry, desperately hungry, after healing. Chances were good he’d also known demon blood wouldn’t satisfy a vampire’s hunger.
Jaise laughed. “Come on. This should be a no-brainer for you, fang.” He pushed away from the wall and tapped his chest over his heart. “They teach you a lot in B-Ops. I know all about you fangs now.” His eyebrows drew together. “Why resist? I’ve made it easy for you, Korzha. Isn’t this what you wanted? A gesture of good faith? You’re hungry. I brought you the best meal you’re going to get while you’re here. Feed. All I want in return is for you to make her. When that’s done, I’ll bind Aslet to you.”
Korzha shook his head. “I will not make another vampire.”
“No!” Laura’s shout collapsed into a sob.
Korzha looked at her then wished he hadn’t. The Councilwoman’s eyes were hopeless. Desperate. As desperate as he himself was. Hunger made his voice sharp. Did she think it was nothing for him to refuse in his present state? “Save your breath, Masters, I’ve already told him no.”
She shook her head. “You heard him. I’m no good to them anymore.” With a sinking heart, he understood he’d mistaken her objection. “I can’t open the portal anymore. Not reliably.” Her voice broke. Twice she tried to speak and couldn’t. She walked within arm’s reach of him and smiled a deathshead of a grimace. “I’ve seen what the guards do when they don’t need us anymore.”
He could taste her now, the tang of blood and heat.
Jaise shrugged. “Guess you’re leaving with me, Masters.”
“Give me a chance to change his mind.”
Jaise walked to the door. “You have twenty minutes. See you two later.”
The door closed and they were alone. Far too alone. Korzha gazed at Masters. “No.”
“You have to.”
“You’ll turn rogue, Laura, this I can guarantee.”
“Do it,” she whispered. Her eyes locked onto his, pleading. Her fingers curled around his wrist, warm and surprisingly strong. “You have to.”
Korzha stretched out a hand, intending to move her away, but at the last, didn’t dare touch her. His hunger was too demanding. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
The woman’s tongue darted out, wet her lower lip. “You’re a monster, Korzha,” she said with a dry giggle. Her human smell filled him, made him ache. With eyes that shifted between madness and sanity she trapped him. She whispered, “A monster, Korzha, and you know what monsters do?”
He shook his head, though he knew quite well what she thought.
She went up on tip-toe and put her mouth by his ear. “Monsters kill.” Her voice dropped again, a trembling whisper, warm against his ear. “Now. Not later. Not like…that.” Her eyes glittered. “Please.” Laura grabbed handfuls of his coat and embraced him, whispering, “Don’t you dare convert me. I don’t want to be like you. I want to die human,
and I don’t ever want to come back.”
She wanted him because of what he was, because of what a vamp could do for her in her desperation. It was perverse and sick and if they were in Los Angeles, all kinds of illegal. But they weren’t anywhere near Crimson City. And he was hungry. His fingers tightened around hers. “Laura, I can’t.”
“He’ll give me to the guards. He’ll do it, you know he will. No matter what happens, I’m dead.” She walked past him to the pallet, and Korzha turned with her. She lay down, tugging on his wrist, stretching out her neck. “Does this make it easier?” She tugged again. “Come on, Tiber. I know just how you like it.”
Trembling, shaking with hunger, his body followed hers. He put his hands on either side of her rib cage, but kept himself from touching her. He remembered the woman at the portal and what the guard who’d escaped into Crimson City had been doing to her. “Laura…”
“Don’t you get it?” Masters said, looking into his eyes. “I’ve been dead since he brought us here.” She pulled him closer and whispered. “You can make it so I won’t even feel it happen. If you don’t—” Her voice broke. “Oh, God, if you don’t. I’ve heard them scream, the other women. They scream for hours. Hours. Please. You have to. They’re waiting for me, did you know that? They know I’m next. So, you have to do what monsters do best.” She closed her eyes and turned her head. “Just don’t let me come back. That’s all I ask.”
She was right about what would happen to her if he refused. They both knew that. “Damn you.”
“I’m counting on it.”
Jaise would gave her to his demons, and she would die a far more horrible death. No matter what he did, he was as damned as she was. Adjusting her neck, he found the hollow where her blood called to him. She didn’t resist. He drew in a breath.
So did she.
His teeth broke her skin and dark crimson blood flowed into him. Her body tensed, then relaxed. She tasted of life, warm and tangy and salty and like the sun. As Korzha raced along the edge of his hunger, he fell into the sensual rhythm of feeding. He reached for her mind, touched and soothed. He reassured her. His lingering injuries healed, her warmth pulsing through, gushing into him. Her madness danced in his head, twirling at the borders of his own stretched sanity. Beneath him, Masters stirred, and so did his sex. Feeding was always like this for him. Insistent erection. Sensual, sexual, the craving demanded sexual completion, too.
If he wanted sex, he could have it now. He knew she didn’t like men, but Masters wasn’t likely to object. To feed and have sex with a beautiful woman was a reason to continue in the world. In the back of his head, he sensed an electric shiver, a quivering probe, alien, unwanted. The fucking demon, Jaise. With a mental roar, he threw the intruder out and shut down to everything except the body beneath him that gave him life and a recollection of long ago: warm sun on his naked, mortal back.
Masters had her hands on his shoulders, her fingers hooked in the fabric of his coat, still in the reflexive clench of the initial pain. He’d admired her before, and why not? A connoisseur could admire something he knew he’d never have, and Laura Masters, who went home every night to a woman’s soft curves, had disappointed more men than just him. The thrum of her heart raced through him, and his sexual response increased. He was hard as a rock, his balls tight, aching for him to plunge himself into her. He could do just that. And the little quiver of knowing he wasn’t going to stop himself from draining her sharpened his arousal.
No; nothing could stop him from taking what he wanted. All that and more, beyond more. Her heartbeat drummed, matched his. He wanted himself free of his pants and over her, taking, tasting, drawing her life into him. Filling himself with her life and her scent and everything. Off the edge, falling, spiraling, turning. His body went taut when he came to the point where he could leave her alive. Her pulse pounded in his ears, her life whorling into him. Close. Very close. Everything. Everything except sex. There would be no sweet completion for them, because she wouldn’t want it.
Her palms slid off his back, and he took that last taste. The last drop.
It was over.
There was nothing more. The whisper of her mortal life faded and cemented in blood his place among the damned. He’d not killed like this in far too long. How could he have forgotten the ecstasy of it? He owed her the end she wanted. It was the least he could do, and now she was gone.
The door to his prison opened.
In a blur of motion, of preternatural strength, he reached for Jaise and grabbed him by the throat. His grip was gentle, but there wasn’t any doubt that if he’d wanted, the demon would be dead.
Jaise just smiled.
“I ought to kill you right now,” Korzha said. He itched to tighten his fingers. His moment of hesitation cost him.
The demon was chanting something in a low voice. Too sudden even for Korzha’s reflexes, a bolt of energy sizzled through his body and blew him across the room. He hit the wall, reeling toward blackout, in agony as his bones broke and his internal organs burst. The healing began immediately, but it was excruciating. Jaise was chanting again, so despite the pain, Korzha moved straight up. He could see Jaise by the door, not quite sure where he’d gone. Laura Masters lay on the pallet, motionless. Eyes closed. Dead. And not ever coming back.
More fire burned through Korzha’s thigh. It wasn’t real flames or he’d have been injured seriously enough to put his existence in doubt. The pain was intense. Enough, he decided. More than enough of these games. Jaise needed to know what, and with whom, he was dealing. Korzha snarled and launched himself toward the demon. Killing Jaise with his bare hands would be a pleasure. But Jaise was speaking again. Another flash of blue fire erupted from the demon. Korzha shot upward.
He stayed on the ceiling, no longer bothering to hold back instincts suppressed since he’d left Romania. He moved fast enough that the demon lost track of him. At his speed, even at such close range, the demon’s defenses amounted to too little, too late. Korzha swung his arm in a sharp arc and slashed the demon’s shoulder at the same time he plunged his mind into Jaise’s. Deliberately, he slashed close to the demon’s throat. This would be a warning not to trifle with him.
Jaise’s shriek of pain bounced off the walls. The demon may have infiltrated B-Ops, but the very nature of vamps and Crimson City meant he was most familiar with weaker specimens. Vamps of significant power rarely embroiled themselves with the cops or B-Ops. B-Ops thought they knew the power of all vampires, but humans had no idea what they were up against. Neither did these demons.
In the same motion that left the gaping slash on Jaise’s shoulder, Korzha threw himself backward, retiring to a high corner. He laughed, a roar of adrenaline and delighted satisfaction. The door crashed open and three new demons appeared, one of them in monstrous form. The room shook. All around the air shimmered and turned hot. Korzha snarled again and dropped. One of the demons was mentally susceptible so he killed it with nothing more than fear.
Landing on the ground, he gripped the monstrous demon by the throat. The other demon he kicked in the head. It crumpled against the wall, unconscious. Six more demons crowded into the room, mostly in human shape, but not all. Korzha lifted the demon he held and grinned. “Call them off,” he said to Jaise. “Or this one dies.”
Jaise threw up a hand and the others fell back. “All but you,” he said, indicating the tallest of his minions. He stood aside to let the others leave, then gestured to the tall demon who moved unhesitatingly to examine his bleeding shoulder. Jaise looked only slightly less murderous than before. “Let him go, Korzha,” he said.
“But of course.” He opened his fingers. The demon he held fell to his knees, taking in great gulps of air. “A lesson for you, Jaise. Play nice, and chances are I’ll play nice, too. Put my back to the wall,” he said, “and I’ll retaliate.”
“They have sworn to protect me,” Jaise said. The demon at Jaise’s side began to chant, sounds that had so far proven an infallible precursor to an attack. K
orzha tensed. “Cool your jets, fang,” Jaise said. The tall demon looked up, and Korzha read alarm in his eyes, smelled it in his body. “This one’s a healer.”
“Take me to Officer Donovan,” Korzha said. “Now.” He watched as a soft glow came from the healer’s hand; a green-tinged mist formed in the air and slowly dissipated. Jaise’s wounds sealed themselves. The healer stepped back from Jaise and bowed, keeping a cautious eye on Korzha who said, “We’ll get the woman’s daughter on our way. We’re going the hell back to Los Angeles. Now.”
Chapter Twelve
The attack took Korzha by surprise because it wasn’t physical. His head snapped back with the vicious onslaught of another being slipping inside him, taking over. His lips drew back, and a sibilant growl rolled from his throat. The skin across his back rippled. The spot where Jaise had been standing was empty, but that didn’t matter; Korzha knew where the demon was, and it took everything in him to stop him from taking over completely. Even so, it was a close thing. If he’d been at full strength, Jaise wouldn’t have succeeded. But he wasn’t at full strength. His body wasn’t completely healed yet, and the mental skirmish with Jaise now weakened him further.
Possession.
With Jaise indwelling, Korzha was a spectator in his own body and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Yet.
An escort of four demons accompanied them through Biirkma city. One of them carried Masters’s body, wrapped in a dark blanket. Yet another demon had been sent to fetch Aslet and Donovan, or so he hoped. They all moved at a quick pace, without stopping or slowing and every demon they met hurried to get out of the way. Jaise lifted a hand; Korzha’s hand. They walked faster, practically running now. He knew where Jaise was headed: the portal. The closer they got, the more he felt the pull of the vampire in the snare. Madness. Skittering madness in the shadows.
A Darker Crimson Page 11