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Lying on my side,eyes too-well adjusted to the dark, I waited until I could finally hear Zara’s deep breathing. Cock hard, I slowly got out of the bed—I was still hungry, still horny, still fucked in the head. The darkness chuckled inside me.
I wiped my hand over my eyes and walked over to the single chair and small table to pluck another beer from the six-pack before sitting down and taking a long swig. From the chair, I could watch Zara sleeping. I knew she’d never have fallen asleep if she’d known I was awake. She was all attitude and fear wrapped in bravado. I smiled. Maybe it was because I wanted to fuck her, but I liked her.
Hard girls had hard mouths, but hers was so soft when I’d kissed her. The only hard thing had been the unexpected bump of her tongue piercing. I ignored the fact. My cock felt fuller and I took a drink.
I needed to think.
Zara mightn’t think I was like Harry, but in many ways my parasite made me the same. I was a host to an evil that had copied itself from man to man for centuries. My gut instinct said this thing had never been a person like the Cucitrice—there was something too dark, too hungry.
Too primal.
I’d been treated to scenes that’d have any FBI profiler or sex crimes specialist throwing up all over their shoes. The last macabre scene had been replayed to me many times.
The thing seemed stuck in a moment in time, tossed between lust and rage and the hiss in my ear that saidflintlock.
The vision trailed across my mind like a vulture, seeping menace...and in first person—as if I performed each immoral act.
I’d nailed the tongue of an angel creature to my chair so I could fuck her.
Crushed her wings with a chain.
Her weeping echoed louder with each repetition. Rinse, repeat, crush. I heard the cracking of her bones, her wails of pain, the moist slap of her palms on the stone as she crawled to me, and I smelled the tang of her blood.
Every time, her whimpering and the destruction of her wings gave me a hard-on, though I tried to resist with my teeth tensed against teeth. Who was the psychopath now?
Zara thought all I had were memories like her and I’d let her believe it.
I’d lied to her because I needed her.
I’d thought I needed the knife, to follow its clues, but Zara was so much better. Zara was almost the Cuctirice; with her memories I stood a chance of exorcizing this thing from my body. Somewhere in Zara’s new memories, there had to be a clue.
My plan was simple.
Keep Zara safe. Build the database. Find a way.
I knew far more than I did a day ago.
Still, that didn’t ease the tension out of my muscles, didn’t lift the lead in my stomach because I could feelitlistening in as I tried to solve my problem, breathing when I breathed.
Smiling.
We both knew I was on borrowed time.
And if it came to that, there was always the knife in Zara’s hand.
CHAPTER14
Val
At four AMthe landscape outside was deathly quiet and dark. Only semis were prowling the roads and a few early-riser motorists, but Zara wanted to get in and out before anyone could see us. Once I and Zara found the road leading to the farm, I switched off the headlights then cruised forward using moonlight and Zara’s somewhat dated instructions.
Not much had changed, however, the property’s roads were still where she remembered them.
Even with the windows wound down, the world stayed silent, no owls, no crickets, no distant howling—just air, sultry and still, the traffic barely a hum.
The creek was a half mile in.
The moon followed us, like moons do, lighting our way but saying nothing.
