Creed

by Marie Johnston

  She laughed.

  ***

  Agony hammered at Creed’s skull. Blue eyes with green glowing flecks haunted him in the space between dead to the world and functioning brain. Bouncy curls, barely tamed by the water, surrounded her head like a halo, embellishing her with a sense of innocence. She used to be an innocent.

  As he drifted awake, his being ached for the young woman who would’ve won the award for Least Likely to Rip Your Heart Out.

  A rich scent bombarded his nostrils and he scrunched his nose up. The richness was laced with a tangy sulfur taint.

  His mouth filled with a hot fluid that tasted like someone shaved off the heads of a thousand stick matches. Heat wicked down his esophagus. He would’ve sputtered, but he was too weak. Helpless to the searing, he let the fluid travel to his stomach. At least he was warm.

  Creed pried his eyes open. Quution’s ugly sneer hovered over him, an expression of determination marring his haggard features.

  Pushing Quution away, Creed tried to sit up and flopped lifelessly.

  “Wha—”

  “Your throat’s a bit ragged, I’m afraid to say.” Quution wiggled his arm, blood droplets went flying. “I’ve adjusted my energy so you can down my blood without it burning you too terribly.” Creed gurgled as Quution shoved his wrist against his mouth again. “Drink. I can’t search for the girl if I’m babysitting your destroyed ass. Who attacked you, anyway? I scent no one else around here.”

  Creed met his gaze. He swallowed and took another pull, the pain inconsequential. The awful stuff pouring into his mouth was in high demand by his body and he couldn’t stop to speak.

  But the look in his eyes must’ve relayed the devastated bewilderment he felt. The horrific confusion of what Melody was capable of.

  “Brimstone and tinder,” Quution breathed. “She did this?”

  Creed nodded weakly. A good sign. The muscles in his throat were mending together.

  Quution withdrew his wrist. Creed followed it, focused on it like a lollipop. His first taste of demon and it was powerful. Like a prime vampire’s, only deadly under normal circumstances. Without dialing down the burn, Quution could’ve fried him from the inside out.

  Quution backed away to give Creed room as he struggled to a sitting position. He groaned and palpated the parts he couldn’t see. Dried, crusty clothing gave under his fingers. How long had he been out? In many spots, his skin was visible. The only protection he’d had against Melody was his decision to not undress when he helped her bathe. And she hadn’t had so much as a stitch of clothing to aid her in taking him down.

  Every satiny inch of her had been bare, and he wished his inheritance a thousand times over that he didn’t know what she felt like.

  “Yes. It was Melody,” he rasped. “I think she’s turning…into…something.”

  “She has Hypna’s powers. She’s turning into Hypna.”

  “She’s not,” Creed snarled and dissolved into a coughing fit.

  Quution watched him like a parent waited for a child to cease his tantrum. It was the look Creed’s mother gave him a million times until it was replaced by disappointed disdain years ago.

  “Dammit, she’s not Hypna.”

  “Are you positive? Because when I found you, you looked very much like many of Hypna’s victims. Only she didn’t fuck you.”

  “Hellfire, demon. Melody’s not Hypna.” Creed shook his head and looked down at his legs, trying to decide if he could stand. “She can’t be.”

  “It doesn’t matter what we want. It’s about what’s happening to Melody and how to deal with it.”

  Despite his absurd appearance, he was a reasonable, cunning male. Q’s protective streak over Melody unsettled Creed in every fiber of his being. The male part of him roared to challenge the competition, but there was no such thing as competition between them. Melody couldn’t be his, even if she wanted him. And after that attack, Creed highly doubted it.

  Nothing changed that he had to help her.

  His arms shook as he pushed against the floor. His legs quivered as he rose. Once he was fully upright, he swayed.

  Quution quirked a dark brow. “It’s like watching a newborn goat get birthed. You look like complete shite.”

  “You see much of that in your time?”

  Unfazed, the demon replied, “It’s amazing what one sees when he stops to think for a moment. And I’ve had a lot to think about. Also, the perks of host-jumping at my leisure.” He grinned, his large pointed fangs glinting in the torchlight. “It’s good to be an energy demon.”

  It’d be good to have a little energy at all. Quution’s blood had been expended to sew together skin and get him standing. He’d have to feed—and soon. But first, Melody.

  “We have to find her. She might be crazed.”

  Quution’s brow remained arched as his gaze swept Creed from head to toe.

  “I’ll find her.” Creed shuffled out the room. With each step, he weaved in a different direction, ricocheting off the walls like a sad game of bumper cars.

  Quution paced next to him, stopping to let him adjust his trajectory but not lending a hand. If Quution had tried, Creed would have bitten his head off. Humiliation simmered inside. He’d lost Melody, tragically failed to protect her. He could barely walk. Quution gave him space, as if sensing Creed was clinging to the brink of desperation.

  Creed followed the delicious, feminine scent that was his human. A dark edge now tainted it. Was it permanent? Could they remove Hypna’s power and do it without killing her?

  Fear for her fueled his healing. He was weak, but he refused to be useless.

  Metallic tang and a fresh bloom of brimstone accosted his nose. He increased his speed, adrenaline spiking in his veins. Melody’s sweet scent mingled with the smell of freshly spilled blood.

  “I don’t sense her death,” Quution muttered. “But she’s no longer here.”

  They slowed and edged around a corner, unsure of what they’d find. The carnage that awaited stopped them both.

  Blood washed the walls. Were those entrails? He scraped closer, careful not to bump against the sides of the cavern. Peering closer, he inspected the remains, for that was the truly accurate term. Roots and leaves sprouted from every surface. Larger twines held dripping appendages.

  Quution ran his hand over the surface without touching anything. “I never cared for these second-tiers. The three of them together barely comprised a full functioning brain.”

  “You know them? Three?” Creed studied the slaughter. Had Melody taken on three second-tier demons and gotten away?

  How badly was she injured? They may be too late to help her. But was she strong enough to get away?

  “Yes, I knew them, and indeed, most of the three of them remain here, in various spots. They wanted to work for me, but their stupidity knows no bounds.” Quution’s lilac gaze lit on the ravaged walls. “Obviously.”

  “Do you think they knew Melody posed this much of a threat?” He stepped over a severed leg lying in the middle of the passage. “She looks human. She smells human. Mostly.”

  “It’s the mostly. If they would’ve stopped and smelled the roses, they’d have noticed there’s more to our little human, dangerously more. I doubt they got past the fact that she’s female.”

  Creed eyed the remains. He wanted to rip them apart all over again. “Maybe they did, and they wanted to torture her first.”

  An approving gleam lit Q’s eyes. “Ah, I’m glad to see you are not blind to our ways. That is likely what they planned.”

  “That also means others will be able to sense she’s more.” She was in even more trouble than he initially thought. The odds were poor when they had to protect a human in the underworld. All they had feared was Melody’s death. Now they feared her enslavement. When the rest of the Circle discovered she possessed Hypna’s power and could use them, she would be the most hunted being in the realm. He didn’t have to be a demon to know how it worked.

  Creed picked through
the destruction. Fatigue weighed on him, but he ignored it.

  Quution stuck close. “She went this way.”

  Creed snorted. “You think?”

  Quution shot him a glare. Beyond the blood and death, the cavern clogged with increasingly more vegetation. The vines twisting up from the floor and out from the walls grew more and more lush until they were walking through dense, green vegetation. He’d need a machete to hack through it if it grew any thicker.

  The types of vines changed. Thick jungle leaves morphed into branches of maple trees to pine needles. He glanced behind him and stopped. Quution frowned at him, but turned to look.

  Like autumn, then winter, seasons changed behind them until pine needles turned a crispy brown. Maple leaves turned brilliant shades of red and orange before fading to brown and crumbling away. The jungle was already gone.

  Quution met his questioning gaze. “That, I’ve never seen before.”

  “And that doesn’t make me feel better.”

  They trudged onward, the trek easier now that the foliage was dying. What did it mean?

  They reached a cavern entrance. Strangled noises were resonating from within. A short sob, low garbled muttering. He inched to the entrance and peered inside.

  A form was crouched in the corner. A scarab emerged from the wall and darted to the pool of thick, blackened muck at the base of the form. Weren’t scarabs scavengers?

  An arm shot out and snatched up the giant bug. It curled back in and a loud crunch rent through the air.

  Creed’s stomach heaved. Quution had gone around him and stood in the cavern opening. His face screwed up in disgust.

  Yeah, that was gross. The humans who ate crickets wouldn’t even touch the large, shiny, hard-shelled scarabs that fed on dead meat.

  He was about to nudge Quution and give him a what the hell are you doing look when it dawned on him. Quution was entering the cavern because that huddled body covered in dried blood with chunks of internal organs dropping off her was Melody.

  Chapter Five

  Another tremor wracked Melody’s body. She released a shaky breath that was mixed with tears and saliva.

  She was so damn hungry. After she got through the hard shell, the scarab tasted like raw chicken probably did. She spit out more bits. If she took the time to slurp the bugs like an oyster, she could polish the shells. They were probably beautiful when they weren’t crushed between her fangs.

  A sob escaped. She had fangs. And claws. And…and…horns.

  The fangs and claws she discovered when she was fighting for her life against— Nope, not gonna think about it. Those demons she really did kill. A sickening pit welled open in her gut.

  There was no stripping the carcass into usable hunks of meat. They were dead, and she had sprinted away as soon as the last body had hit the dirt. So unlike the hunter her father had taught her to be. She was a killer.

  Yes, it was a kill or be killed, raped and/or tortured situation, but she’d still taken not just one life, but three. Unlike with Creed, she hadn’t fought the surge of dark emotions. They’d rolled through her, the kerosene for her flame. For survival, it was true. Her laughter still rang in her ears. It had bordered too much on delight for her comfort. The strength in her muscles, the accuracy of her strikes, her moves as if in a slow-motion action sequence. And the refreshing relaxation of finally having a reprieve from the build of fury. All lasting until they were dead.

  The terror inside her swelled until she almost choked on the last mouthful. She wasn’t positive Creed had survived.

  She forced herself to swallow her buggy mouthful, to fill her stomach in hopes the debilitating cravings stopped. The bugs had slowed their emergence from the walls. When she first collapsed in this place, they had swarmed her, thinking she was easy pickings, and she’d picked them off one by one. Now, only the young and inexperienced, or really stupid, ventured out of the wall. Her realm or this realm, wild creatures exhibited the same characteristics. If she were out in the field with them in her sights, she’d let them pass for more mature game, just like Daddy taught her. Don’t get trigger happy and take out the first deer that comes along. Your tag doesn’t need to be filled in a day.

  But these were bugs, and she wasn’t hunting, just desperate. She sniffled, and the movement tugged on the tender skin around her scalp. She palpated the edge of a horn.

  Horns.

  There were no mirrors in the underworld. She wouldn’t have known she’d grown them if she hadn’t disemboweled one of the males with them. He’d tried jumping on her when she was wrestling the bigger demon.

  When the fight was over and silence had descended, her first thought had been that Daddy would be so proud she’d taken down three males. The little girl he hadn’t wanted.

  More tears cascaded down her face. At least she quit being a DIY greenhouse. The roots had killed one of the demons. Ripped him apart. She’d seen Hypna control plants when the demon had cocooned her in roots. Melody couldn’t delude herself. That fight had been her, and what Creed had said the other male had speculated was correct. She’d intercepted Hypna’s powers.

  Was she turning into a monster? She felt like herself. A confused, scared, insecure version of herself. Her fangs and horns and claws didn’t change that her mind still worked like normal.

  Except for the fits of rage and extremes of personality.

  Oh god. What was she changing into?

  A sensation made her pop her head up and narrow her eyes at the wall.

  A scent surrounded her, so pleasing, so comforting, yet utterly maddening, stirring the rage she couldn’t keep down.

  Creed.

  She twisted to look over her shoulder. She spotted Quution first. His features were calm, his soft purple eyes placid as he studied her. The corner of his mouth quirked.

  “What are you smiling at?” She growled. Again with the anger when she’d just been crying about Creed’s fate. She should be swimming in relief.

  Quution stood next to Creed, and his scrutiny intensified. Creed fully emerged from around the corner. Her stomach plummeted. She’d done that to him.

  His tattered clothing hung from his body, the cheeks on his normally chiseled face were sunken in, and his shoulders hunched inward like he lacked the strength to straighten completely. He clearly hadn’t fed enough to completely heal.

  Guilt bloomed. She choked as contents from her stomach crept upward. She spat the remnants to the side without taking her focus off them.

  Creed’s brows knit together.

  Her guilt flicked off like a loose switch. Oh, he had enough energy to judge, did he?

  “What do you want?” She rocked back on her toes and rose to standing. Grime, grit, and leftovers covered her otherwise nude body.

  “Are you all right?” Creed’s gaze touched on the tips of her fingers, then her mouth where her fangs poked into her lower lip. Then her horns.

  Her upper lip curled into what was becoming her standard snarl. Was it the fangs making her do that?

  “What are you staring at, Creed?” The hostility in her voice should surprise her, but she was grateful she could mask so much of what was festering inside of her. As soon as Creed did anything to point out her new features, her worry for him had been quashed by the black pit in her mind. How could she muzzle that pit and return at least her thoughts to normal, if not her body?

  Quution answered for him, as if he sensed her innate aggression toward the other male. “You’ve changed, Melody, as I’m sure you’re aware. Our next move needs to focus on what to do about it.”

  Hope surged forward, her only relief from the swirl of negativity that was so unlike her. She’d been a happy person, a “you can do it” girl. Now if another person asked how she was doing, she’d glare at them and tell them to gut themselves and lay down and die because she didn’t have time for their intrepid bullshit. A far cry from a sunny smile and a “never better.”

  “How are you going to help me? You don’t know what I’ve done. I’
m a danger to my realm.” She laughed, a maniacal sound. “I’m even a danger to this realm.”

  The truth was sinking in. The red haze in her mind was spreading. Think happy thoughts. Like what? I’m a menace but at least this cave is bug-free.

  Quution wasn’t ruffled, and her ire at him faded. “If you’re talking about the three lower life forms you decimated, then I’d say you acquired some useful skills for surviving down here.”

  She glanced at Creed. His hair glowed orange in the torchlight, it was so stained with blood. Grit clung to his locks, gristle that was probably his own flesh.

  “Then you saw what I did to someone trying to hurt me.” She jutted her chin toward Creed, the move stabbing her fangs into her lip. Dammit, that hurt. And she relished the pain. It brought clarity. “Did he tell you what I did? He was helping me, and he almost lost his life.”

  The demon shrugged, his expression remaining unconcerned. “Hazard of the trade.”

  A giggle bubbled past her lips at his casual dismissal of her dire warning. It was more effective than her happy thoughts. “I like you, demon.” Creed tensed, an imperceptible reaction her newly sharpened eyesight detected. More judgment? “Do you have a problem with that?” she snapped.

  Creed waited a moment before he answered. “I have a problem with how I seem to upset you without doing anything.”

  A rush of hot fury swept out any control she had on herself. “Without doing anything?” She stalked forward. The calm facade dropped from Quution’s face to reveal a look of alarm. Creed wore the same expression, but didn’t back away. “I bet you think that you’re ready for me this time? That compared to your superior genetics I don’t stand a chance?”

  He held his hands up to placate her. It only stoked the fire. “You misunderstood what I said.”

  Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. He’s hot. He came looking for me. He’s alive— Did he just say she misunderstood?

  “Did I really? Is that because I’m human or because I’m a girl? Take your pick, Creed. I’ve been dismissed for both.”

  “I respect you as both a human and a woman.”