As Belial descends, he breathes beside my ear and whispers, "Close your eyes."
Not feeling anything for him. Ignoring the goose bumps, and the warmth flooding my core, I do as he instructs. Seconds later, my feet touch the ground, and the scent of stale beer and cheap perfume lingers under my nose.
"Open them."
When I open my eyes, the beat of the music appears like magic. It's Club Lust in Angel Bay. I'm home and hopeful he's going to let me go.
"Can I go now?" I ask.
He tightens one arm around my waist and looks down at me. “No. You want to see the police find me?” Oddly amidst all of this, I want him touching me.
“Yes. Then I can go home and you can find someone else to annoy.”
Belial laughs and says, “Turn around, Lola.”
I turn around to face the dance floor. With one hand still around my waist, Belial draws the long silver sword, it's glowing again.
No one looks up. Not one person reacts to him, or to me. I search the club and scan the faces for anyone I know, when I'm distracted by the neon blue trail that follows the sword as it skims past me, and plunges into the chest of a guy in front of us.
Belial’s body heats as my heart pounds beneath my ribcage. I want to run and scream for help, but my legs are cemented in place and won't obey my brain.
In front of me, a girl's screams are muffled when she covers her mouth with her hands after seeing the body convulsing at her feet. Another girl turns and screams, and like the first one, it's barely audible. People are still dancing, and the music is blaring as one by one, they notice the guy, now still and dead on the floor.
Another guy rushes through the crowd pushing people out of the way, while others frantically pull out their phones and call for help. The guy kneels and attempts to perform CPR on the dead guy, pressing on his chest and blowing puffs of air into his mouth. It only causes the blood to gush from the deep, open wound.
Instinctively, I step back. Belial is still hard against me with his arm tight around my waist. His breath lingers on my cheek as he whispers, “Watch.”
I swallow hard. Belial is a killer. Why the hell am I not afraid of him? The disco balls stop spinning and the strobe lights go out before the club is bathed in fluorescent light, and the music finally fades. There's crying, screaming and panic all around us. Everyone runs for the exits in an attempt to leave the club.
A few people stay, and I watch in disbelief as one guy discreetly holds up his phone and positions it so it's focused on the dead body. One flash goes off, then another, and one more before the security guard notices and grabs his phone. The guard pushes him back and he stumbles into the crowd of terrified onlookers, with his hands splayed behind him.
A minute later, the police storm in with their guns drawn, searching for a murderer they don't realise is standing right in front of them.
Blood pools at my bare feet and covers my toes in crimson red. My own blood drains from my face, and nausea takes over. My palms sweat, and when I extend my hands, there’s more blood, dripping from my fingertips. Blood. The similarities are uncanny: the dead guy, the sword, Belial, my parents. Murder.
Although the demon who killed them, didn't have wings.
§§§
Before I can question Belial, I'm back in the bedroom. I cross my arms tightly around myself, shaking and still in shock.
I want to scream, instead I lower my voice, “You're insane. You just killed that guy. For no reason. Why?”
He goes into the bathroom and washes his hands, then dries them off as though this is an everyday occurrence for him. Who am I kidding? The guy is a hitman. Of course, it's an everyday occurrence.
He comes out of the bathroom and runs his hands through his hair. “They can't see me, and they couldn’t see you. You're wasting my time. I've got work to do.” With a wave of his hand, a grey swirling cloud emerges and he disappears. As soon as he's gone, I run to the door and pull on the handle. Of course, it's locked and I’m trapped. Turning, I slump to the floor and focus on the blood covering my feet. I shut my eyes and try to get the image of the guy at the club out of my head. It’s no use. It’s burned into my memory.
With nothing else to do, I take in the unusual opulence of the bedroom. Against the wall there’s a large set of glossy black drawers, each one with a small red handle that looks like a finely cut ruby. On top, three candles flicker, emitting a warm glow that makes the room look homely, rather than gothic. The king size four poster bed is exquisite, with scrolled iron twisting and turning into beautiful filigree patterns surrounding gargoyles, and horned devils.
I get up and sit on the bed, running my hands over the rich red satin covers, wondering what I’m here for and why Belial didn’t kill me when he had the chance.
FIVE
Belial
Mortal Earth
§§§
Damn her, damn mortals. Why can't I kill her? Now I’ve got her hidden in my bedroom, the one place I hate having anyone. “Fuck!” I curse.
Evan swigs the last mouthful of whiskey from the bottle and throws it in the bushes. “What’s your problem?” he asks.
“Nothing, shut up and let’s get this done.” I take off into the sky.
I fly down and land in the forest of Red Gum Valley, a few miles from Angel Bay. Zane Poulter is standing by the river with his back to us. It would be easy to kill him, but my brothers want the thrill of the chase. Nik whistles to get his attention, causing Zane to turn. I can sense his fear but he doesn’t change form.
“Run, dog,” Evan shouts.
He doesn’t move as I stalk toward him. “Wait. Belial, no. Wait, man, let’s talk,” Zane says, raising his hands in defence.
“I don’t talk, Zane, you know that. Your father knew that too, right before I killed him.”
Zane drops his hands and comes out of the shadows.
“Come on man, let’s make a deal. You know I’m good for it. I’ve got Vice.” He’s right, he is a good liar. Not as good as me.
I take a step toward him. “No deal, you sold us out to the vamps, that means you’re dead.”
He rubs his face as the thick grey hairs start to appear on the back of his hand. Any moment now and he’ll change form. Not that it will help. He won’t outrun three demons—not as a wolf, not as anything.
“Run, dog, run!” Nik mocks.
Zane shifts into his wolf form and takes off through the thick bushes into the forest. I realise I can't be bothered playing games. I fly up and land on the ground ahead of him.
His hackles are raised and his lip curls, revealing his two-inch-long canines. A low growl comes from deep in his chest and his golden eyes do nothing to hide his fear. I’ve killed more shifters than he’s ever seen.
The distant howling tells me his pack is close by. Zane turns toward the sound—he’s surrounded and knows it. If he thinks I’m going to let him go, he’s as stupid as the rest of them.
I draw my sword and point the tip to Zane’s chest. In his wolf form his head reaches my waist, his mottled grey fur is thick and shines with a silver tinge under the full moon. His eyes gleam yellow and he whimpers like a scared dog. In my head I hear his voice, he’s begging for his life. A thick silence fills the air as I prepare to plunge my sword into his chest.
Before I can kill him, another wolf is on my back. Its claws sink in to my shoulders and I’m forced face down into the dirt. He has me pinned. A second later the excruciating pain of his teeth piercing my neck sends me into a fit of rage. We thrash violently for a few minutes before I manage to raise my hand and grab the scruff of his neck. He yelps as I jerk him forward and hurl his small, muscular body over my shoulder, where it lands with a thud. The crack of bones and yelps of agony tell me he won’t be getting up any time soon.
I get to my knees and see him lying in a heap. As I stumble over, I realise it’s Chase, one of Zane’s younger brothers. Blood trickles from his mouth and nose, his eyes have lost their shine. His back legs are contorted into gr
otesque angles that look as though they’ve been twisted until the bones have finally snapped.
His body shifts, alternating between his human and wolf form. Thick patches of matted grey fur fall off in clumps as he writhes in pain. The sound, a cross between a human shriek of terror, and the eerie howl of a dying wolf.
I stand over him, watching with morbid fascination as he continues to incoherently beg for his life. I kneel with my dagger in my hand and press it against his chest, then slowly push it through his heart and watch his soul disappear into the earth, leaving behind his dead body, and a patch of bloodied dirt.
As I stand again, warm blood trickles from the wound on my neck, I wipe it away with the back of my hand and swallow a Saviour tablet. It should do until I can get home. There’s no time to stop. A dozen wolves now surround us. We are their prey.
Nik draws his sword. “Ambush!”
Zane lunges at me, saliva and blood drooling from his muzzle. His fangs are bared and he’s ready to bite, as his talon-like claws dig into my chest. I reverse his advance and tackle him to the ground. Without a moment of hesitation, I clench one hand around his throat while he snaps wildly at my face. With my free hand, I grasp my dagger and go for his jugular. We grapple for a few short minutes before his blood flows freely over my neck and chest. His thick grey fur gradually fades, leaving him lying naked in a pool of his own blood. His corpse twitches and convulses as the life drains from his eyes. I raise my sword and plunge it deep into his chest, piercing his heart and ending his immortal life.
A low, deep growl echoes through the forest. Marcus, the Alpha of their pack is running toward me. Nik draws his sword, ready to intervene. Marcus stops a few feet away, flanked by four more of his brothers. They now stand in their human form. For over five decades my father had an alliance with the shifters. Until Karson, and his son, Zane, sold us out to the rogue vamps. Shortly after, Marcus was promoted to Alpha and has kept the pack confined within the boundaries of their territory while they increase their numbers. My plan isn’t to kill Marcus, but if it comes to that, so be it.
I tighten my grip on my sword. “Back off, Marcus,” I warn.
He steps forward and his pack follow. “You won’t win, Belial. Take your baby brothers home, this is our territory. You’ve already crossed the line,” Marcus growls.
Flanked by his pack he has more power than us. He should know we never back down. Nik takes a step forward, daring him, “Come on dogs, show us what you’ve got.”
Marcus doesn’t hesitate. They shift into their wolf forms and the pack charges at us. I swing my sword, slashing the throat of one wolf, sending a spray of blood across my face and chest. Another is close behind. I swing again as a smaller wolf leaps at me, closing the distance between us. I draw my dagger and slice through its muscular flank as it knocks me off my feet.
Blood splatters around me. My brothers take on one wolf after another. I know we can’t fight an entire pack alone, and I consider calling on my father to send back up. In a moment of distraction, the fangs of another wolf sink into my shoulder, the sound of my flesh tearing and the agonising pain of the raw open wound sends me flailing backwards.
Marcus lunges at me, his huge paws and razor sharp claws force me down. As I land, I feel my wings bend beneath my weight, then I hear the crack. My wing is broken and Marcus is overpowering me. I call out for my brothers.
Suddenly, Marcus is gone and I’m on my feet once again. This time he’s ready to attack. His thick ebony fur is raised on his hackles, and the cocked tail and pointed ears tell me he’s not backing off this time. Marcus is an apex predator, and as a dominant alpha male, he is a force to be reckoned with.
For the first time in three centuries, I feel a twinge of unease as blood drips from Marcus’ ivory fangs and he stalks toward me. In my head, he tells me to back off. He should know I don’t take orders from dogs.
Marcus comes at me again, and I raise my sword. The injury to my shoulder is worse than I thought, I don’t have the strength to pull off a full swing. He lands with a thick padded paw on my head, and the other paw presses down on my chest as his razor-sharp claws tear at my flesh.
I desperately try fighting him off with all the strength I have left. One hand finds his throat, with the other I punch his muzzle over and over as he tries in vain to bite, but only manages a few short, sharp nips on my forearm.
With both hands now around his throat, I roll over and force him down. I straddle his body and force his head back. His voice breaks through my mind. It’s all lies, you’re not—as his human and wolf forms shift beneath me, Marcus chokes. Thick, blood streaked white foam bubbles at his muzzle.
I grip his head below his ears and pound it into the ground. “Not what?” I demand.
His human form appears, then his wolf. When his human form returns, he stutters, “He’s he he… you’re not, you, are not his—”
A spray of blood spurts into my face. “No!” I bellow. It’s too late. Nik’s dagger is wedged firmly between Marcus’ eyes.
“Finish him,” Nik says, and he retreats to continue fighting the pack.
Marcus’ eyes close, and his body goes limp. Gradually, his human form takes over his wolf form and he’s still. I take in the sight of his wounded, naked body, contemplating. I could take him into the forest and leave him there. I know his pack will come and rescue him. Even with a wound to the head, there’s a good chance he will survive, given enough drugs. Or, I could finish him off right here. I weigh up my options. The decision though is made for me when Marcus’ female, Lycalla, appears through the forest.
The thick amber fur on her neck stands on end, her ears are pointed and she snarls as she stalks toward Marcus’ limp body. She nudges him with her nose, then cocks her head, whining.
Let me take him, she says in my head.
I step back, allowing her access. I could kill them both, but there’s an unexplained need to know what Marcus was talking about, and the fact I let him live could prove useful in the future. Balance, I remind myself.
When Lycalla shifts into her human form, her fiery auburn hair flows over her shoulders and covers her full breasts. Beneath the moonlight her pale skin glows as she kneels to lift Marcus into her arms. She cradles his body against hers as if he’s as light as a feather, and without a sound she disappears into the darkness.
The howling continues, louder now as the rest of the pack stop in their tracks. They lift their heads to the moon, then one by one, as if rehearsed, they follow Lycalla into the forest.
Three wolves are left behind, too weak to run and too far gone to be of any use to the pack.
I command my brothers, “Finish them!”
My wings are badly damaged, and I’m covered in blood from the thick, deep gashes that now cover my chest and shoulders.
I shift back to Nevermore to deal with the wounds.
§§§
In my bedroom, Lola’s asleep in my bed as if she owns the place. I watch her for a few minutes, the rise and fall of her chest and the quiet beating of her heart tell me she’s not dead. Not that I’d care, it would do me a favour. Her black hair is spread out over my pillow. Now my bed’s going to smell like mortal. I pull the covers back to wake her, she rolls over and curls up with the blankets. Damn stinking female.
I notice how small she is, too small. She has thin arms and legs, almost like a child, but her breasts, well they’re more than average. She’s out of proportion, pale and sickly, and I’m still wondering why my father would bother with a human this weak. She’s of no value to him, dead or alive, and that alone makes me curious.
“Lola,” I say, annoyed. It's useless though, she doesn’t move. I push her shoulder. “Wake up, Lola.”
She moans a little and rolls onto her side, her back facing me. I grab her shoulder and shake her again. “Huh?” she says, as she opens her eyes. She gazes up at me for a few seconds, blinking and rubbing her eyes before she gets to her knees. Her eyes grow wide and she covers her mouth with her hands
as she stares up at me in shock, breathing heavily.
“What? You’ve never seen blood before?” I ask.
She nods and drops her hands, placing them flat on the bed beside her knees she leans forward. Her gaze focused on my wounds. “What happened to you? You’re covered in blood.”
I ignore her and take another Saviour tablet. I’ll be completely healed in a few hours, with new scars to add to the hundreds I already have. She’s still staring at me, her eyes wide, her lips slightly parted. If she wasn’t human she could be sexy, and those lips would be put to good use. I think about how many ways I could fuck her.
She interrupts my thoughts yet again when she kneels and clasps her hands together on her thighs. “Can I help you?” she asks.
I close the drawer and turn to her. “Help me?” I ask confused.
“Your, um wings, um… feathers, they’re…” She tilts her head, her long dark hair falls over her shoulders, and she points.
Over my shoulder, I see the broken feathers. I sit on the end of the bed and tell her, “Come over here, pull out the broken ones. Only the broken feathers, got it?”
She nods and asks, “Will it hurt?”
I roll my eyes. “No. Just do it, Lola.”
She carefully pulls out the broken feathers, breathing heavily as she concentrates. Her breath is warm on my shoulder and the need to rush her consumes me, but this is one thing I cannot do without help. The longer I sit here and think about Lola, the more appalled I am at myself for wanting her this close to me.
Her breasts brush across my back causing me to suck in a breath. My cock twitches and I push it down hard. Not with her. I remind myself.
Light fingers trace the edges of the wounds. “Will they grow back?” Lola asks.
I look over my shoulder to see her still focused on the wounds. “Yes,” I say, trying to ignore the feeling of her body against my back.
Untamed: Demon Soul Page 4