Blood Demon: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Sorcerer's Creed Book 4)

by N. P. Martin

  Max stood in front of me with his eyes blazing red, his face dark and tense. "I should just rip you apart right now in front of your bitch girlfriend and be done with it," he snarled. "There’s plenty more meatsuits out there for me to wear."

  "FUCKING DO IT THEN!" I bellowed as I threw my arms out. "PUT ME OUT OF MY FUCKING MISERY!"

  Max’s stare intensified just as all of my joints seemed to pull painfully away from my body.

  He’s going to fucking do it, I couldn’t help thinking in shock. He’s going to end me.

  But then Max smiled, and his stare became less intense, as did the pain in my joints. "You aren’t getting out of this that easily. I’m going to stick around to see you suffer for another while yet." Sneering, he backed off into the corner and stood with his arms folded as if to say, Your move, motherfucker.

  "Creed!" Leona shouted through the glass. "Are you all right in there?"

  When I turned around there were two armed guards standing beside Leona, and they all drew back in slight horror when I looked at them. "I’m fine," I said, before taking a deep breath to calm myself. "Just releasing some steam. Nothing to see here."

  The two guards stared hard at me as they looked like they were about to burst into my cell to restrain me. Leona, however, said something to make them back off, and they both nodded before heading back up the corridor, disappearing out of sight. "What was that?" Leona asked when the two guards had gone.

  "What was what?" I asked.

  She shook her head like she was in no mood for any bullshit. "You know what. Did you just dare that demon to kill you? You know how fucking stupid that is?"

  I shook my head. "I was just straightening some things out, that’s all."

  "Indeed," Max said, as if Leona could hear him.

  Leona stared at me a moment, and then looked away. It was rare to see her upset, and I felt terrible about it. I walked to the glass as Leona wiped a few tears from her eyes, before straightening herself up and resetting her face into its usual stony expression. "Did you know your eyes were…glowing red, when you were arguing with the demon?"

  I sighed and shook my head. That would explain why Leona and the guards drew back when I looked at them earlier. "No, I din’t know."

  "I’m worried, Creed," she said.

  "I know you are," I said, putting my hand back on the glass. "But I’m going to fix this. I promise."

  Leona’s deep brown eyes stared into mine. It was a look I often thought she had perfected while working as an interrogator, a look that made it seem as if she was looking right into your head, like a mindreader. "That’s the thing, Creed," she said quietly. "I’m not sure you will fix it this time."

  5

  As The Crow Flies

  When Leona had gone to talk to Brentwood again about releasing me, even though we both knew it would be a waste of time, I had nothing else to do but sit on the bench in my cell. Max, or at least his avatar, had disappeared for the time being. I could still feel him inside me though, monitoring my every movement, my every thought and feeling. It was like being under twenty-four surveillance by a cold, faceless entity. There was nowhere to go to be alone, not even with your thoughts. Nothing was private anymore unless Max chose not to pay attention. But as the constant knot of anxiety in my stomach was telling me, Max was paying attention to everything. Mercifully, he was refraining from giving any snarky rebuttals to my thoughts, or to the fact that I was trying very hard to ignore his presence, which naturally proved impossible.

  My biggest fear was him taking me over again. I hated the absolute loss of control. It was terrifying knowing Max could do anything he wanted with my body, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop him.

  Max owned me.

  And he knew it.

  I spent the next several hours in that cell just sitting around, or pacing the floor as I wracked my brains trying to figure a way out of the situation I was in. Of course, I was well aware that Max was listening to my every thought, like some sleazy spy on a morally dubious assignment. He didn’t seem to mind that I was blatantly plotting against him, though. He was confident there was no way for me to get rid of him without killing myself in the process. Or rather, without him killing me before I got a chance to take any real action. The first line of an exorcism to come from my mouth would result in my death. Any kind of spell or ritual designed to hurt or hinder him would be met with swift punishment in the form of extreme pain or death. Max had made that abundantly clear by now, several times.

  In my defense, I was trying to think of a way in which we could both get what we wanted, and he seemed okay with that. The occasional thought of revenge would often hitch a ride on my train of thought, though, sometimes traveling for a good distance before I realized exactly what it was: an invitation to extreme pain or death. Max let these occasional lapses slide without repercussion. In fact, if I was reading him right, he was quite enjoying watching some of the scenarios that would play out in my mind. They seemed to amuse him. Going by the laughter I heard in my head, his favorite revenge scenario was the one where I used my magic to rip his spirit out of me, at which point the Ghostbusters would direct their proton streams at Max’s vengeful spirit, being careful not to cross the streams of course, before directing Max into the ghost trap on the floor. The scene finished when Max’s contained spirit was dumped into a containment unit. Just one of the more satisfying scenarios I cooked up.

  Revenge fantasies aside, it soon became clear to me—if indeed it wasn’t clear before—that whatever path toward resolution I chose to take, it would hinge upon first getting out of the cell I was in, and that wasn’t about to happen anytime soon. Max once again offered to bust us out, but that would involve killing more people, and there was no way I was going to let that happen. Max had killed his last innocent, at least in my body. He begged to differ, of course. But fuck him. I would kill myself first before I let the bastard go on any more killing sprees.

  I had just about given up on any hope of escaping or being released from my prison, when I heard movement in the corridor outside. Thinking it was either Leona or Brentwood, I went to the plexiglass to see.

  Imagine my surprise when Angela Crow appeared on the other side of the glass. She was a gleaming vision of white, dressed in an eighties style power skirt, and bright red high heels the same color as her lipstick. Her platinum blonde hair was wrapped in a bun on top of her head, which allowed her large predatory eyes to beam out of their sockets unshaded. When she smiled, the tips of her fangs showed. "Hello, Creed," she said, stepping close to the glass. "What a mess you’ve got yourself into this time."

  "What are you doing here?" I asked suspiciously. "Are you worried I’m going to fall victim to foul play? We both know what happens if I do." I tapped my chest and gave her a suggestive look.

  She shook her head. "Yes, Creed, I’m well aware of the supposed bomb you have in me."

  "Not supposed."

  "Whatever. I don’t think that’s any way to talk to the person who’s going to get you out of here anyway."

  My eyes widened. "What?"

  "You heard her," Max said, his disembodied voice in my head. "This delectable specimen is going to free us."

  "How are you going to manage that?" I asked Angela. "Brentwood has made it clear I’ve to stay locked up."

  "I have my ways, Creed. You should know that by now."

  I narrowed my eyes at her. "You’re not going to have your minions storm this place, are you? If so, forget it. There’s enough blood on my hands."

  "Really? I thought you considered me to be more subtle than that."

  "Subtle?" I barely smiled, unwilling to piss her off with any sarcastic remarks. "How are you going to manage it then?"

  "You forget the influence I have, now that I’m head of the Council of the Gifted." She smiled, showing her fangs again. "I could make things very difficult for Division, if I wanted to. Brentwood will simply be made aware of that fact."

  "And if he doesn’t go for i
t?"

  "He will."

  "You seem sure. Though perhaps you haven’t heard—I have a demon problem."

  "Yes, I know," she said. "That won’t matter. Still, you’re always getting into sticky situations, aren’t you, Creed?"

  "This one’s a little more than sticky. Dire, I’d say."

  "You’re referring to the body count you left behind recently?"

  "Not me. The demon."

  "Whatever," Angela said. "I could care less about a bunch of dead humans. You know me, Creed. I’m not one for sentiment."

  "So why are you here?" I asked her. "Am I to believe you are getting me released out of the goodness of your heart?"

  Angela smiled. "Whatever else you think of me, Creed, I do show some loyalty toward those who deserve it. As much as you are a pain in the ass, you’ve done more than most to help this city, and dare I say it, even me."

  My jaw nearly hit the floor. For a full ten seconds, I was literally lost for words. Then I said, "Those are words I never thought I would hear coming out of your mouth, Angela. Are you sure you haven’t been possessed by an angel?"

  Angela shook her head. "Balk if must. You always do."

  I smiled somewhat wickedly. "What do you want, Angela? It must be important considering the strings you would have to pull to get me out of here."

  "It is," she said. "I want you to go to Babylon, and bring my daughter home to me."

  Again, I was almost lost for words. "Why?" was all I could think to ask.

  Angela moved her face right to the glass, her piercing blue eyes now staring right at me. "Because she is my daughter, and she should be with me. It’s time she came home."

  "Who said she wants to come back here?"

  "You did, Creed."

  "I don’t think so."

  "Yes, you did. In our last few conversations you mentioned that Jennifer had softened her position somewhat when it came to me."

  "That’s not the same as saying she would want to come back here," I said. "And why would she if you’re just going to treat her like an underling again?"

  Angela’s mouth tightened as she scowled at me. "It wouldn’t be like that. Jennifer would be by my side as an equal. One of the benefits of living so long is that you have plenty of time to learn from your past mistakes."

  "Or be doomed to repeat them."

  She snarled at me this time, her eyes flashing red for a second. "Why are you so quick to think the worst of me, Creed?"

  My expression softened for a second as I looked away. Maybe Angela had changed as much as she was putting across. There was no doubt in my mind that she missed her daughter. What I was worried about was reuniting her with Jennifer, and then the same old patterns of behavior emerging. I pulled Jennifer out of that life before, and I had no wish to do it again if I could help it.

  On the other hand, I was looking at imprisonment for the foreseeable future. Keeping me locked up was helping no one. The only way I would get Max out of me was to give him what he wanted, or at least what he said he wanted. You never know with demons. They’re such lying, manipulative bastards.

  "And humans aren’t, I suppose?" Max piped up in my head.

  "Butt out of my goddamn thoughts, will you?" I shot back.

  "I can’t believe you are even debating this creature’s offer," he said. "Just fucking reunite her with her bitch daughter, and then we can go on our little adventure together."

  "You’ve got serious fucking issues, you know that?"

  "So have you. I guess we’re a match made in heaven."

  "Fucking hell, more like."

  "Oh yes, that sounds much better."

  "Fuck off," I said out loud without meaning to.

  "Did you just tell me to fuck off?" Angela said as anger rushed into her face.

  "No," I said holding up my hands. "I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I was just talking to the demon…as you do."

  Angela shook her head. "I can only imagine the kind of conversations you are having."

  "Trust me. You’d stake yourself rather than put up with a demon inside you—inside your head. Especially one named Max."

  "Max? The demon is called Max?"

  "Catchy name for a demon, don’t you think? I would have preferred Cunt, or Annoying Prick, but I didn’t have a say in the matter."

  "I’m offended," Max said.

  "Anyway," I said to Angela. "I’ve considered your offer."

  She raised her eyebrows slightly. "And?"

  "I’ll do it."

  She couldn’t keep the smile from her face, which sort of threw me. She actually looked happy. "Thank you."

  "But on one condition."

  "Yes?"

  "If Jennifer says she doesn’t want to come back here, then that’s it. You have to respect her wishes and leave her alone, which means no abducting her."

  "It wasn’t something I was considering," she said, sounding offended. "But of course I will respect my daughter’s wishes whatever she may decide."

  I nodded. "All right, now get me the fuck out of here."

  "There’s one more thing," Angela said.

  I gave a small sigh. Here we go. "What is it?"

  "If Jennifer comes back, I want you to make her a Daywalker, like me."

  "A Daywalker? That’s…I’m not even sure I could do it again."

  "Don’t bullshit me, Creed. We both know you can do it."

  She was right. I could do it. I was just pondering the implications of doing it again. It was a lot of power to hand to one vampire, and normally, I would’ve refused to do it. But since it was Jennifer, and since I didn’t have a choice…

  "Fine," I said. "But I’ll only do it for Jennifer. No one else."

  "Of course."

  "All right," I said. "Are you going to get me out of this fucking cell…you know, before I adopt the roach in the corner as my pet?"

  Angela shook her head. "I’ll go and talk to Brentwood," she said, before walking away. "Don’t go anywhere, will you?"

  "Oh, ha ha…"

  Max chuckled to himself. "I do like her."

  "Screw you, Max."

  6

  Making Plans

  Brentwood didn’t seem too amused when I walked out of Division HQ alongside Angela Crow, but the order to release me came from above his head, so there was nothing he could do about it. Given that I expected a bit more trust from Brentwood in the beginning, I couldn’t help but smirk back at him on my way out the front door just to piss him off even more. After everything I’d done for him, he should have given me the benefit of the doubt, instead of tossing me in a fucking cell.

  "Well," Max said. "You did try to strangle him, did’t you?"

  "No, motherfucker," I replied. "That was you."

  Max laughed. "Oh yes…it was, wasn’t it?"

  "Asshole."

  "Speaking of assholes, I’d bet her’s is just delightful."

  I assumed he was speaking of Angela Crow, whose slender ass was wrapped tight in her white pencil skirt. "You want to cut her up like you cut up those other people? Trust me, she won’t fucking let you do that."

  "Powerful is she?"

  "Very."

  "But still powerless compared to me."

  "I wouldn’t be so sure."

  "I’d like to find out."

  I shook my head. "Christ, give it up, will you? Not every flesh parcel you see is fair game, you know."

  "Actually, it is."

  "Well, there’s more important things to worry about besides getting to know the Crimson Crow’s asshole."

  "For you maybe," Max said. "Remember, Creed. I’m just along for the ride; for the experience, and the pleasures along the way. No matter what happens, I have nothing to lose. You, on the other hand, have everything to lose. Your body, for instance…or your soul."

  I stopped on the way to Angela’s limo. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I said aloud.

  "I’m just pointing out the stakes. Eventually, this body of yours will begin to break down,
as it won’t be strong enough to contain my presence anymore. Then you will die, and I will naturally claim your soul."

  "How long?" I asked as Angela and her guards stood staring at me with confused looks on their faces.

  "Before your body dies?" Max said. "Most of the fleshsuits I inhabit break down within a week. Some of the stronger ones last a bit longer. You’re pretty strong, Creed, with all your magic. I’d give you two weeks."

  "Two fucking weeks?" I tried to say quietly through gritted teeth.

  "Creed?" Angela said, seeming bored by what was happening. "Are you all right?"

  "Fine," I muttered before addressing Max again. "We had a deal, Max. We find my family, you get your answers, and then you leave."

  "Yes, that’s still the deal…if you make it that far."

  "So what the fuck are you talking about then?"

  "I’m just pointing out that time is of the essence, and that I won’t be helping you in any way. I am merely an impartial observer here. I just enjoy seeing you squirm under pressure, Creed. It gratifies me."

  Angela was looking agitated now. "Creed, are you coming or not?"

  "I’ll make my own way," I told her. "I’ll be in touch."

  "Suit yourself." Along with her guards, she walked away to her limo.

  "Hmm," Max said. "I can’t wait to see her again. Delectable piece of flesh that she is, vampire or not."

  "That’s all anyone is to you, is it? Just flesh?"

  "Yes. You humans and your supernatural subspecies are just playthings to me, and others like me. In the grand scheme of things, this realm and its inhabitants are small and insignificant."

  "Well," I said. "For something so small and insignificant, you and others like you sure seem to spend a lot of time with humans." For the first time, Max was silent, and I laughed and shook my head. "What, no comeback?"

  "We just enjoy playing with our toys, that’s all."

  "Yeah? You know who else enjoys playing with toys?"

  "Slutty housewives?"

  "Kids, that’s who."

  "If I were human, I might take offense to that, but seeing as how I’m not…"