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I draw my sword, slicing through flesh and bone as if it were paper. The banshee goes silent, dead and in pieces at my feet.
“What the hell is that?” Tori takes a solid step away from the remains that are currently leaking viscous fluid onto the floor. The air fills with the scent of rot and brimstone.
“It’s a nightmare,” I say quietly, my stomach swirling with sick recognition. Suddenly, the idea of simply burning this place to ash is not enough.
I need answers before I can do that.
“What’s a nightmare?”
“It’s a kind of spell or charm made by a demon. This one was fashioned as a banshee, but they can come in any form, shape, or size, depending on the power the creator wields. They’re used as deterrents or alarm systems as they’re not very powerful, but they distract well enough.”
I take another look around with fresh eyes.
“I’ve never even heard of them.”
“That’s because they aren’t from this realm.”
“How the hell did it get here?”
“That’s a great question,” I say. And not one I’m going to like the answer to. “Stay close.”
I make my way slowly through the empty club, careful to stay ahead of Tori. The silence after the screaming is unsettling. Or maybe that’s my own trepidation at finding a demon-made creature here in this place.
A creature I’ve seen a million times before.
My heart hammers at the idea that, after all this time, all the searching?—
In the darkness, a figure moves through a narrow opening at the back wall and steps into the room. Broad shoulders draped in a suit. A swath of dark hair combed into submission. Sharp, crimson eyes.
He is middle-aged in appearance, but my senses tell me he’s much older than that. His pale skin is deceivingly fragile-looking. I know better.
“Hello, Legion. We’ve been waiting for you, son.”
Chapter 30
Tori
The sight of Uziah sends rage coursing through me. Juniper’s face flashes in my mind followed by Chase’s body lying dead on my workshop floor. The people Uziah hurt deserve justice. I grip my knife tighter, on the verge of shoving past Legion and burying the blade in his chest until his heart is free of his body. But his words to Legion stop me in my tracks.
Son?
“Who are you?” Legion asks in a low voice.
He is absolutely still, a snake coiled and ready to strike.
“I am Uziah Jafarov, your father.”
My jaw drops, thankfully covered by the mask I’m wearing.
Legion’s eyes narrow in disbelief. “My father was a god, and you are hardly that.”
“There are many names for an ancient like me. God, Original, First One,” he says. “It is all the same.”
Legion’s body trembles, and I realize he’s holding back rage, though barely. “You’re lying.”
“I have lied to others in my life, but not to you.”
“Bullshit,” I say, stepping forward so that I’m shoulder-to-shoulder with Legion. He doesn’t stop me; a sign of his shock. I glare at Uziah and tell him, “Legion doesn’t drink blood. He has no vampire qualities. He can’t possibly have come from you.”
