“You’re not listening, youngblood.” Orcus leaned toward me. Shadowborn survived the earthen realm by feeding on souls. Hadn’t you once told me that? Maybe he would devour mine. End it for me where I’d been unsuccessful.
“Take mine,” I said lowly and pulled against my chains until there was no more slack. I offered my soul to him, what was left of it anyway. Orcus leaned forward and sniffed as though sampling a fine wine. The tendons in his neck stretched taut, his scabby lips parted, and then, he pulled away.
“You have a destiny to fulfill, youngblood, and it is not to be my meal.”
I slumped back in my chair, stung by his rejection. My chains rattled, earning a dissatisfied grunt from Cyclops. There was no way out.
“Tell me what to do,” I begged the demon. “Tell me how to end it.”
“An eye for an eye,” he said cryptically.
“You have failed,” came Azrael’s booming voice. I tensed for the blow that never came as Cyclops swung his baton like a baseball bat against Orcus’s skull, cracking it with a sickening thud. It broke like an eggshell and spilled blood like yolk. My empty stomach turned while my hunger flared anew at the scent of fresh blood. I spat bile onto the floor while attendants came and dragged Orcus’s lifeless body away with only a red smear on the floor left in his wake.
I hung my head in defeat. How would Azrael punish me this time? A beating? Psychological torture? Starvation? I preferred the latter. It meant I wouldn’t have to murder anyone today. But no. The door opened again, and a young man was forced inside, slender as a fawn. He’d been stunning the first time I saw him months ago. Now, his once glossy brown hair was matted and dirty, his fair skin sallow. Too little sun and even less nutrition. His emerald eyes were still shocking, though. They sliced through me like cut gems.
Azrael always made me choose my victim, and I’d been avoiding this man. Too thin. Too young. We were bonded by our tortures. Maybe I needed the revulsion in his eyes to remind me of what I’d become. But he’d been brought in alone this time, which meant there were no other options. The man was stoic, as resigned to die as I was to bleed him. There was no mercy in this place. If I didn’t drain him completely, Azrael would order Cyclops to kill him, and that asshole liked to inflict pain. At least I could give this man a gentle death. Like slipping underwater.
That was how you did it, right, Henri?Redemptio per sanguinem.
We stared at each other. My eyes were probably black, cavernous pits, hollowed out with hunger. His were twin green flames.An eye for an eye, Orcus had said. A demon full of riddles that meant nothing to me. I could smell the man’s unwashed skin, his misery, and grief. I wondered again what he’d done to end up as Azrael’s blood slave.Myblood slave.
“I don’t want to feed,” I said, a lie. Red was all I could see. Blood pouring down in cascading curtains, coating my tongue, sliding down my throat, bloating my stomach.
“You feed or he dies,” Azrael said.
“He dies anyway.”
“Then I suggest you make his sacrifice worth it.”
Cyclops unhooked my chain from the metal anchor on the floor so that I could stand and approach my victim. My jailor didn’t expect me to fight back. It had been months since I’d last tried.
I ventured slowly toward the man, our eyes still locked on one another like dance partners or fencing opponents. Would he fight me? He didn’t back away, only straightened his spine as if steeling himself for the inevitable. How many times had he been brought to this room, or one just like it, expecting to be killed? How many times had he been forced to watch others die because of my murderous thirst?
I saw the revulsion in his eyes, fierce in their hatred. They flashed with fury and dared me to come closer. And I did because even as his eyes repelled me, his pulse called to me like a mother’s heartbeat. Blood throbbed in the jagged blue line of his throat. Underneath the grime, bruises encircled his neck where he’d been collared or choked, but the delicate skin was bare now. For me. His cuts and scrapes had scabbed over but they weren’t healed completely, and he smelled…
Delicious.
“I won’t hurt you,” I said. Another lie. I hurt all of them. The man knew it too. He’d seen me soothe the others and then drain the life out of them. He didn’t flinch when I laid my hands on his shoulders and stood on tip toe to reach him. He only turned his head, breaking eye contact at last. I licked along the strong vein of his neck, tasting his salty, sweat-stained skin. He froze like prey, trembling a little, and waited for me to bite. And I wanted to do it so badly. The roar of the ocean was inside me, telling me to give into my craving.
Instead, I jerked violently on my chain. Cyclops stumbled toward me, and I threw out a foot to trip him so that he went sprawling. I kicked away his baton, then jumped on top of him like a wild animal and tore at his throat. I’d gulped down only a few mouthfuls before strong fingers clamped around my windpipe and choked the life out of me.
Faintly, I heard screaming.
