The demon laughed in delight. “My beautiful little monster.” He sucked in a breath, and Kilian could taste his pain. His agony. Stephen captured Kilian’s hands, forcing him to let go. “You don’t want to destroy me.”
Kilian didn’t. He wanted to possess the demon, to feel the power under his own skin. A whispered word ripped through the air and Kilian and Stephen were both sliced open to the bone.
Stephen snarled at the woman who had attacked them, black veins appearing on his face and hands. “No,” he said in a voice so low that the stones rumbled. He darted across the room and grabbed the woman by the throat. Gnarled fingers grew longer and claws dug into the soft skin of her neck as blood began to run down her pale flesh. “No,” he said more strongly, and then darkness poured out of Stephen, burying her.
Kilian sank to the tiled floor, his vision fading as two massive wounds allowed his magic to escape with the blood. He watched through the haze of his own approaching death as the darkness retreated, leaving the young witch standing with blood still trickling down her neck from Stephen’s claws and a blank expression. Her body was still there, her heart was still beating, but something vital was missing. She reminded Kilian of a reanimated dead body.
Kilian blinked sluggishly and Stephen dropped the still-breathing body at Kilian's feet. “Eat,” he commanded. The word reverberated through Kilian's soul, but he brought his weapon up to bear against Stephen.
“What did you do?”
Stephen laughed. “She thought her magic was enough to protect her. It was not.” Stephen turned toward the last witch, the younger male. He was backed into a far corner of the room chanting until protective magics shimmered about him.
Stephen rolled his shoulders and strode forward until he stood on the other side of the witch’s shield. He touched it with one black claw and the shield popped like a balloon. The witch screamed in terror, and the same blackness swallowed him. Immediately, his scream stilled, and, like the other witch, he became something less than human. It was as if the soul was gone, leaving only the biological function.
Stephen took the witch by the hand, the way a mother might a child, and walked him over to Kilian. He crouched on the far side of the woman's body and gestured towards her. “Drink,” he said, but this time there was less command behind the words and more bewilderment. Kilian struggled against his own confusion. He was hungry, but he couldn’t eat. Not in the field. Not around others. Never around others. Fear grew until it was more powerful than his hunger.
Stephen pushed the woman's body towards him. Kilian stared hungrily at the four crescent punctures in her neck and the blood trail across her pale flesh. “Are you going to kill yourself with your own stubbornness?” Stephen asked.
Kilian realized that Stephen’s black eyes and veins were gone. This was little Stevie looking at him, his eyes wide with alarm. “Don't you dare die and leave me to deal with this by myself. You drink. Do you hear me? Their souls are gone. Whatever made them people is gone. This is just a body, and you need the blood. Drink.” The sluggish heartbeat called Kilian, tempting him to forget his sire’s first rule. Unless one wanted to commit murder, feeding was never done in the field or under duress. Kilian was both.
“I can’t control myself,” Kilian warned as he held onto his self-control with the last remnants of willpower. “It's dangerous.”
“Not as dangerous as pissing me off by leaving me,” Stephen said. “Drink.”
Maybe Kilian would have held out, but Stephen shoved his hand into the wound on Kilian's stomach, grabbing internal organs and twisting them in a way that pulled Kilian's fury to the surface. Kilian lost all control and his fangs dropped as he lunged forward and grabbed Stephen by the hair. Yanking Stephen's head to the side, Kilian sank his fangs into Stephen's neck and drank. He hadn't taken more than two or three mouthfuls before he reared back, almost drunk on the power that flowed through his veins. His body felt bloated with it, overstuffed even as he bled out on the bedroom floor.
Stephen grabbed the male witch and drew a claw across his throat before pushing him at Kilian. The feel of prey under his hands stripped Kilian of his self-control. He sank his fangs into the flesh and drank and kept drinking until the heart slowed and then finally stopped. Stephen, or the demon, laughed with delight when Kilian shoved the body away and stood, his flesh already mending despite the incense that hung in the air.
“What did you do to them?” Kilian asked again.
Stephen studied Kilian. “The demon consumed their souls, but given the sort of dark magics they were drawing on, that is probably a kinder fate than they would have gotten from anyone else. Tzitzimitl are not forgiving creatures, and for a man to call on them... it would not have ended well for him. The arrogance of witches is almost as obscene as the stubbornness of vampires.” The last was said in a tone that made Kilian wonder if he was speaking to the demon or little Stevie. Sometimes it worried him that it was hard to tell the difference, but maybe that was because he had never known the man Stevie had grown into. Maybe adult Stephen had had that coldness in him before the demon had invaded his soul.
“We need to tell Mia,” Kilian said. He was going to face an inquiry. Feeding in the field was not acceptable, not when it was a teammate and not when it was the target he’d been sent to stop.
Stephen waved a hand and all three bodies vanished in mage flame. “Tell her what? They attacked, we killed them. You drank from me.” Stephen moved toward the door.
Kilian grabbed his arm. “That’s not how this works. We do not falsify reports.”
“Watch me,” Stephen said with a cocky grin, and then he was running out of the room, dragging Kilian by the magical leash.
Kilian cursed and used vampire reflexes to get his feet under him and the safety switched on before he opened fire on someone he shouldn’t. Like Stephen. Despite Kilian’s vampiric speed, he didn’t catch up with Stephen until he was outside, facing off against Mia. The four werewolves had drawn back and had Tasers pointed at Stephen, but he ignored them.
“South America! You know these fucking people add Catholicism to fucking everything and Kilian is a Judas vamp. Are you trying to get us killed? Do you hate us so much that you no longer care that I’m a useful attack dog at the end of your leash?” Hate dripped from his words like venom.
“Stephen?” Kilian called carefully, not sure what he was witnessing. The witches were gone, but Stephen did not have his demon under control. Either that or Stephen’s anger was pretty damn demonic.
Stephen swung his head toward Kilian, and his eyes were black with a spiderweb of black veins surrounding them. Oh shit.
He turned back to Mia. “Knowing Judas vamps are vulnerable to Christian iconography, you sent us into the heart of fucking Catholicism.”
“What happened?” Mia asked.
Stephen spoke before Kilian could. “I saw witches, I ate the souls of two of them, Kilian bit me to recover from a spell that got through his defenses, and we came back. Now explain why you would send a Judas vamp into Catholic central. The morons were trying to attract an ancient demon using a metal incense purse thing on a chain. One of those very Christian, Catholic thingies.”
“The whole device is called a thurible or the incense burner itself is a censer,” Kilian offered.
Stephen threw up his hands. “Exactly! Catholic iconography! Mia, if you want to get me killed, fine, but don’t get Kilian killed with your rampant stupidity.”
