“Is he?”
“Undetermined. But he is certainly… peculiar.”
Before my capture I’d assumed demons could identify each other by smell or sense alone, similar to the way we bloodborn operated, but I’d interrogated enough of Azrael’s soldiers to know that wasn’t true. Unless a being exhibited obvious markers of their tribe, I’d never known if they were human, demon, or a demon inhabiting a human form.
“How long has he been here?” I asked.
“A little while longer than you. We can get rid of him.”
“No,” I said without fully understanding why.
You eyed me closely. “Why would you want him to stay?”
Good question. The blond man came to mind again, one of my first victims, as did his low voice spitting curses at me as I bled him to death. I touched my arm, number three. Stefan was one of the few living witnesses to my crimes—him, Papa, and Cyclops.
“I need to remember.” I searched your eyes, but they were brooding and dark. “I’m going to get stronger. And then I’m going after Azrael.”
“Let us wait a little while before we start planning our revenge.”
I frowned at you. You knew why.
“Will you help me? When the time comes?”
Your mouth formed a grim line, and your eyes bore into mine with searing intensity.
“Of course I will.”
