Thorn snorted, then smirked and took a long drink of the mead. “Love that look on your face, Akipoo.”
He gave him a droll stare. “Don’t make me stab you.”
“You can try.”
And that was why Leucious went by Thorn—as in he was a thorn in everyone’s arse. Especially that of his father, the source of all evil.
“Do you, or do you not, know anything about the man who was just here?”
Thorn scratched at his neck. “I know he wasn’t human. Whatever is setting off the hairs on your ass is making mine stand up too. But what he was … I don’t know.”
“Animal, vegetable, or mineral.”
Thorn laughed. “Demon or Daimon.”
“You said he wasn’t a Daimon.”
Thorn shrugged. “I say a lot of things. Usually no one listens.”
Acheron shook his head.
“So … tell me again about these Dark-Hunters. Their job is to hunt down Daimons and free the human souls inside them before the souls perish completely?”
He nodded. “That’s the theory. According to Artemis, the moment a Daimon coerces a human soul into their body, it begins dying. If we can get to them in time, we can pierce the mark and release the soul back into the universe where it can return to its source.”
Thorn let out a low whistle. “How do they get the souls?”
Acheron shrugged. “Damned if I know.”
“Well, I don’t envy you this task.”
“Why?”
Thorn sat forward. “I just return demons. You’re talking about training warriors to kill them. My experience, things that have psychic powers and are related to a god don’t die easy. And when they do, they try to take you with them.”
September 8, 7382 BC
Urian stared at the human in front of him. His eyes were glazed from the spell Apollymi had taught them to use to drain a human down to a dangerous level where they hovered close to death. “Do you surrender to me?”
He nodded as his head lolled back.
Forcing his head up, Urian slapped him to an alert state. “Focus … I want your soul. Will you give it to me?”
“Aye,” he breathed.
Urian sank his fangs into the man’s throat and ripped out his jugular. He’d feel bad, but for the fact that it was better he should die than Urian. And as he drank, he felt the man’s fear. That was the worst part about feeding on humanity.
Their emotions tangled together. They shared their memories.
It was why a lot of Daimons didn’t like to prey on criminals even though they were a lot more powerful than the others, as a rule. What he did took a lot of control and discipline. Because of their corrupt souls and inhumanity, they could easily poison him, too. He could slide right into their cruelty.
If he were weak.
But while he had to do this to survive, he wasn’t the same breed of animal they were. This was forced on him. It wasn’t a choice.
Big difference.
Urian pulled back as he felt the man’s death rattle. He held him against his chest as he waited for that critical moment. Pinching the man’s nose, he tightened his grip on his chest and began to hum the summoning spell.
