by Dianna Hardy
“Well, this can’t be one hundred percent accurate without testing the baby’s blood, which I don’t want to do, but the tests taken from the amniotic fluid indicate that he’s able to shift while in the womb, and there’s no telling – from a scientific perspective, anyway – if or when that might happen.”
Paul leaned forward in his chair. “We were told that my presence and magic would ensure that he remained in human form when birthed.”
The doctor nodded. “And that may very well be why he’s in human form now.” He turned to Amy. “You said it’s been weeks since you’ve had contact with his other father?”
She blushed, that familiar guilt that surfaced when both men were in her immediate thoughts, already making itself known. “Yes.”
“I would say he’s adapting to your nearness, Mr May.”
“And what happens when his other dad comes back?” she asked. “He’s got to be present for the birth. We believe that I’ll need to … er,” she blushed harder, “feed from him in order to keep up my strength and prevent blood loss.”
“I would agree. You’re blood count is a bit low, by the way, and it seems your son’s got quite an appetite – I should imagine he’ll take more and more from you towards the birth itself… Which brings me onto the next issue.”
He paused as if uncertain, and they waited for him to continue.
He cleared his throat. “The baby is bending time.”
The tick of the clock on the wall grew astronomically loud over the silence.
“I beg your pardon?” asked Paul, his voice tight.
“Your son is bending time inside the womb. That’s why you’ve expanded so rapidly in such a short space of … well, time.”
“Wh…wh – er – why would he do that?” There was a pinch on her thigh, and she realised Paul was gripping her tightly as he took in the information. She slipped her hand under his, partly to relief the pressure, and partly ‘cause she was about to lose it. Bending time?
“That’s something I just can’t say. Time and energy work in such abstract ways… Usually, time is pulled towards something for it to be able to bend – it works to align itself with something: a point in history or in the future, a person, an object…” He trailed off and shrugged helplessly. “My feeling is that if you find what the baby is trying to align himself with, you’ll know when to expect the birth, which seems to me to be fairly imminent. He’s fully formed. I’m guessing he’s just waiting for the right moment.”
“The right moment?” whispered Amy.
“The Dragon.”
Both pairs of eyes fixed on Paul.
“He’s aligning himself with the Dragon. He wants to be born when it rises – a new era, a new Messiah. It has to happen together.”
Amy stared at him, a little shell-shocked. “Are you sure?”
“As sure as I’ll ever be on this. I can’t think of any other reason. Dr Jefferson’s right about time needing a pull to bend in a certain direction. It’s why time magic often uses blood – the blood becomes the source of the pull. Time can hone in on it with the help of a little magical direction, the same way a hound might hone in on a scent.”
“And the baby’s honing in on the Dragon?”
“I think it must be.”
“If the Dragon exists at all,” threw in the doctor. “I don’t mean to play devil’s advocate, but there are plenty who don’t believe the so-called Dragon exists.”
“But plenty who do.”
He shrugged again. “There always will be believers and fanatics.”
“Oh,” she raised her eyebrow at him, “is that what you think we are? Fanatics?”
Dr Jefferson laughed. “No. I’ve seen what you carry inside you with my own eyes, and I’ve seen plenty of patients, both human and demon, in the past three weeks to know what’s fact. I’ve studied and practised magic for years, yes, but always strived to find the logic behind it – energy has logic. I’ve seen nothing to indicate dragons are real, or even possible, and a couple of million people around the world waving banners with ancient Chinese symbols on them isn’t proof enough for me, I’m afraid. I know your baby is unusual – unique. I don’t know he’s the Messiah.”
“I suppose that’s fair enough,” smiled Paul. “What kind of doctor would you be if you didn’t follow the path of logic?”
“Indeed.”
“Okay,” Amy’s palms were getting sweaty with apprehension, “what do I do now?”
“Prepare for the birth, Mrs May.”
“Prepare for… How? Oh, God, I thought I’d have a few more months to think about this. What about you? Can you help with the birth?”
“Not my area of expertise, I’m afraid, but I can refer you to the hospital. The only problem, is not knowing exactly when the due date is – there’s a chance you’ll be in the emergency ward. I only know one midwife equipped to deal with demon births—”
“Not a demon,” stated Amy, angrily.
“Well … not exactly a human either.”
She scowled.
“That midwife I mentioned – she left when the shit hit the fan. The maternity ward – the whole hospital in fact – is short-staffed. That includes a shortage of staff on security, and I don’t mean short-staffed in the ‘union protest’ kind of way, I mean short-staffed in the ‘we’re in an apocalypse’ kind of way – it’s all but deserted. If I were you, for health and safety reasons, I’d find a more … ‘magical’ solution to your birthing plan, and consider the hospital the absolute last resort.”
~*~
What did you fall back on when the last resort was gone?
The last resort was never supposed to be gone. Elena’s last resort was never going to be ‘suck the souls of the living’.
Well, that was too bad.
Four men went flying metres across the building site before she could even register that her succubus was physically strong enough to break the freezing spell. Or maybe that was down to the both of them. Maybe it was because she had given the demon permission.
She wasn’t sure. Her identity had merged with the Shanka’s, her human half reclined to the recesses of her being where it sat and observed with a strange detachment. Her emotions no longer ruled anything – they ceased to exist at this moment in time, subdued to the overpowering hunger that demanded all of her.
She leapt into the air and pounced on the leader, who had taken a second to come to after head-butting the ground, and now scrambled to get his trousers on and make the hell out of there.
Elena landed on his back, winding him as his front hit the dusty concrete. “Leaving so soon?” How curious that the demon’s voice, now that she’d let it out to play, sounded so much more dry and raspy than her own. “But we were just getting to know each other.”
He whimpered and clutched madly at his trousers to get them up.
She effortlessly wrenched his hands free and pinned them behind his back, then whipped him over with one fluid movement and sat on his chest.
Bones crunched under him.
“YAAARGH!”
“Broken wrists. Such a shame. Guess you won’t be using those hands for a while.”
He eyes widened now he could see her – widened in horror – and she wondered, in that disconnected way which actually felt quite freeing, if her features had changed that much. She’d never seen herself, or any Shanka demon for that matter, in the throes of hunger, and even though her love-making with Karl fed her, it also calmed the succubus every step of the way – he had never left her starving before.
Had her skin cracked all the way through to bone? Could this pathetic excuse for a human see parts of her skull? Were her green eyes more monstrous than before?
She didn’t know. But she did know this wasn’t love-making. This was as far removed from love-making as you could possibly get, and the demon soared with delight at the promise of the taking. Being fed was satisfying, but taking would be a gratifying completion she’d never experienced before – this is what she wa
s born to do.
A quick glance around told her the other three men lay unmoving – knocked out. Perfect.
She dived forward and licked the side of her prey’s face. He was all salt and fear. The fear was particularly intoxicating, and … yes … that sugary sweet taste of human pheromones lingered lightly on her tongue. It brought a fresh flood of warmth between her legs. “Do you know what I’m going to do to you?”
“Please no, please no, please no, please no…”
“How many times have those words been said to you, I wonder.”
He made some kind of strange, strangled noise, his mouth trembling as he tried to hold it all together.
She reached behind her and grabbed his dick, still huge and stiff – not surprising since she was now rubbing her own special brand of pheromones right into his skin through her touch.
Still, he must have been surprised at his arousal, because his face suddenly collapsed and he burst into tears, blubbering like a baby. “Oh, God … please no … go soft, go soft, go soft, go soft…”
Flippin’ heck, was he praying to his penis now? Only this guy could give it that much power. His simpering cowardice was almost enough to put her off – I mean, why eat junk food when you could have caviar, right? But she was damn near faint from starving, so junk food it would have to be.
“I’m going to wrap myself around you and squeeze you ‘til you’re ready to burst, and then I’ll make you beg for release – and you will beg for it. The last thought you have will be of how, in the inescapable web of pleasure, you pleaded for death.”
Sliding down him, she stopped at the tip of his cock, then rubbed her sex over it and against it.
He groaned and cried and even snotted.
Ugh.
At least she knew he wouldn’t be able to piss himself.
“Now, I believe you were going to ‘show me what you had for me’. Isn’t that what you said?”
“No, no, no…” He shook his head from side to side, his eyes squeezed shut.
“Don’t worry. You’ll enjoy it. It’ll be the best orgasm you’ve ever experienced, and ever will again since it’ll be your last.”
More snot.
She wanted to stop talking and get on with it, but the fact was the more scared he got, the more fulfilled she’d be.
“Usually, I’d want to make this last as long as possible, because the longer it lasts, the more filling the meal, but I’m too far gone for that kind of patience. Sorry. This is gonna be a quickie.”
She slammed herself down on him, consuming his full length.
His eyes practically popped out of their sockets as he bucked in both ecstasy and horror, and what a fucking, awesome hit!
Her own head fell back, and she moaned in delight as she managed to latch onto a part of his soul. She could feel it right there – vulnerable, exposed. She reeled it into the murky depths of her shadow self; rocked him into her, ferociously, back and forth, back and forth, every movement taking more of him into her.
She could feel his scream close to erupting, but it was her who screamed, and it was a scream of rage at the meal suddenly ripped from her grasp.
One minute she was feeding and the next she was flying through the air across the building site, just like the other men had a few minutes ago.
She gathered herself mid-air, landed on her feet and spun around, growling, ready to fight for her food.
The food that was gone.
“No!”
“Yeah – he’s totally gone. Nowhere that pleasant, I promise, but I needed to get him away from you.”
The familiar, annoying voice was muffled against the pounding fury threatening to burst through her veins, but it was clear enough so that Elena stirred within the demon.
She turned to face the voice. “You! What have you done?”
All that mass of red hair struck another chord with the witch. Elena focused harder, trying to see through the demon’s eyes; trying to reach the break in the shadows… Katarra?
“Duh. I’ve just saved you from making the biggest mistake of your life, and you can thank me later.” She gave her an infuriating smile.
The Shanka demon jumped at her.
Katarra effortlessly flung her back again and she landed hard on her rear and then rolled to break her fall. Whatever powers the apocalypse had diminished among the demon races, the Brujii queen had clearly been unaffected.
“You can’t take my magic, okay? So don’t try. Elena, on the other hand, can take me blindfolded and gagged, so why don’t you let her out?”
The succubus smirked. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you? The witch blindfolded and gagged. Tell me, in your dreams is she tied to the bed, too, while you fuck her? I know what you came here for – you came here for this.” With her right hand, she raked a nail sharply down the side of her forearm. Blood seeped through her cracked, grey skin, and Katarra’s eyes gleamed a brighter yellow at the sight and the scent.
But the queen held her ground; her features hardened with determination. “I came here to find Elena, so find Elena I will.” Mirroring her actions, Katarra tore a gash into her own forearm with one of her sharp canines.
Elena felt the succubus’ surprise at the power of the magic in the Brujii’s blood. In all the time Katarra had been with their group, not once had she bled in front of Elena. The magic in the blood coated her, them, their surroundings – everything – and its potency called to the witch in her so strongly, she couldn’t have held back if she’d tried.
Elena surfaced, the succubus too stunned to put up much of a struggle. But even so, she couldn’t deny the still-present hunger that gnawed at her guts. It was so prevalent and the first thing she noticed as she regained her own body. She was so weak. “Katarra…”
The Brujii’s demeanour suddenly softened. She went quiet, staring at Elena. “Hi,” she finally managed.
God, she felt faint … and hot – feverish. “She’s … I’m … we’re both so hungry. I can’t control it.”
“I know. I can see that.” Katarra offered a small smile and closed the gap between them. “But if you feed your own magic, it’ll help. It won’t fulfil the succubus in the same way, but it’ll be enough to fulfil the witch, so you can keep the hunger under wraps for a bit longer.”
Her mouth watered. Her whole being growled like the giant, starving stomach it was, and threatened to turn inside out.
Katarra held up her arm, the blood sliding down her bronzed skin looking like raspberry sauce on caramel; the magic radiating from it, thrumming like the sweetest choir. Her next three words were sweeter. “Drink from me.”
Elena lunged.
Chapter Twelve
Lucifer rolled his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension that had gathered there at his little ‘mission’, which was proving to be not so little after all. Karl Warden was nowhere to be found. Even his scent seemed to have disappeared from the planet.
Although, it was Katherine’s scent that permeated him at this moment.
By God. That had been delectable.
He licked his lips at the memory of her dark surrender. In the end, her pleasure had been so great she hadn’t been conscious by the time he’d finished with her. Instead, he had left her now-young-again, sleeping body lying on the bed, dark hair spread out upon her pillow.
Fuck, he could still taste her.
He shoved his hand into his trousers and rearranged his stiffening anatomy to a more comfortable position, not worrying about discretion. There was no one here anyway. The streets of Wimbledon were just as deserted as anywhere else – except maybe Los Angeles. Go figure. The City of Angels was thriving, and Satan was right there in its centre partying it up.
Obnoxious son-of-a-bitch.
He reached behind him, placed his hand against the small of his back, and materialised yet another apple. He took satisfaction in both the crunch of the bite and the way the fruit disintegrated in his mouth, still juicy, the smallest amount of cyanide within the pips enough to
flood his veins with the awareness he so craved. The hit took him both out of himself and into himself simultaneously, a strange game of disconnection and attachment taking place in which he became a part of every single molecule that made up the universe. In that single moment, he knew everything there ever was to know about anything.
Yeah. It was pretty far out.
But it only lasted a couple of seconds at the most and then it was gone, all knowledge forgotten, all clarity unreachable once more, until the next apple found its way into his hand. Those two seconds though… they fed him in a way nothing else could.
He had said to Katherine that he’d known what she was addicted to. It was because he was also an addict; he’d just chosen a different toxin.
Frowning, Lucifer found himself back at the beginning: standing directly outside the house in Wimbledon. He’d been here earlier on, but Karl hadn’t been. Now, he caught a scent on the wind – the half-angel’s scent, yes – finally – but … he smelled … different. Familiar. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it made his stomach curl and the long-absent feeling of fear – so absent, it must have been a few thousand years since he’d harboured it – reared its head. Only a sliver, but enough to unnerve him.
Without announcing himself, he passed through the wall beside the locked front door.
The garden.
He walked towards it, found the kitchen door open and lo and behold: there he was.
The son of Gwain sat on the grass at the exact spot the sacrifice had taken place.
Lucifer cleared his throat, sensing this would not be a good time to approach in silence. “There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I’m surprised you’re not with your soul-bonded.”
No movement. Nothing.
He stared at the back of his blond head, and took a couple of steps back – maybe getting too close wasn’t such a good idea. Then he chastised himself. When had he become such a fucking pussy? “She had a bit of bother tonight. Could have done with your support.”
Silence.
He should transfigure right in front of him; right onto his lap and make him jump – any reaction would ease the nerves racking his body. He resisted the urge to grab another apple, although the hit would be sweet right now. “Gwain left you a sword. I’m to teach you how to u—yaaagaaaaah.”