Far away from Charlotte.
In the pale, pre-dawn light, Dorian and the demon Azerius circled each other upon the gravely rooftop, sizing each other up. Dorian tried to think, recalling everything they’d learned about demon vessels, about Azerius, about the blade.
The blade would not have killed Malcolm—only a wooden stake would’ve done that. But it likely expelled his soul and turned him into a host, which Azerius was now occupying. The creature still had Malcolm’s movements and gestures, which likely meant he possessed vampire power, but not demonic.
No hellfire, or Dorian would likely already be dead.
But it also meant he’d be a much stronger version of Malcolm, which put Dorian at a disadvantage.
“I am Azerius,” the demon finally said, “King of Blood and Ravens, He Who Slaughters the Blood of his Blood, He Who Drinks the Blood of the Fallen, He Whom Before All Mortals Weep, He Whom Bringeth the—”
“Yes, and I’m Dorian Redthorne, vampire king of New York, brother to the royal princes, and blah, blah,blahwith the pageantry. Frankly, I don’t give a fuck about your titles. You’re in my city now, demon. Hitching a ride in my brother’s body, looking at the woman I love. We need to have a talk about your choices, demon.”
“A talk? How about a deal instead?”
“What are you offering?”
“I will remove the demons from your city—allof the demons, fromallof your cities.”
“And in return?” Dorian asked, already knowing the answer. Already knowing he’d say no.
“Hand over the woman,” Azerius said.
“That’s all you’d ask of me?” Dorian laughed. They were still circling each other like wild dogs about to pounce. “One human woman—a woman you’ve allegedly already claimed?”
“I cannot collect on that claim for another fortnight.”
Dorian swallowed down his shock. His fear. “A fortnight is hardly a long wait.”
“A fortnight on earth is several thousand years in hell. And what can I say? I find her… intriguing.”
Dorian pretended to consider his offer, then shook his head. “A compelling offer, to be sure. But I’ve got a counter.”
The demon king raised an eyebrow.
“The woman claims herself,” Dorian said. “And you can take your contract, your titles, and all the demons in all the cities in the world, and shove them up straight up your arrogant ass.”
The demon let out a deep, dark laugh that damn near reverberated across the city. “A fight it is, vampire king.”
He blurred at Dorian, taking him down with a force like a mack truck. They rolled hard, and when they finally reached the edge of the rooftop, Dorian was pinned beneath his impossibly strong form.
Azerius wrapped a hand around Dorian’s throat, but before he could get a good grip, Dorian shoved a knee into his groin, sending him reeling.
Dorian blurred to the other side of the roof for a momentary reprieve, but again the demon was on him, blurring in and out of his space, slamming him with an uppercut and a jab, the force of the blows making his head spin.
Another quick jab, a kick to the stomach, a fist to the face. Dorian took every blow, giving back just as many in return.
They fought like feral ghouls. They fought like grays. They fought until Dorian’s ears rang and the world spun, and still, Azerius did not capitulate.
Neither did Dorian.
Azerius blurred in close again, sinking his fangs into Dorian’s shoulder and tearing out a chunk of flesh, carving him clear down to the bone.
His arm felt as if it were on fire.
Despite the agony, Dorian landed a fresh series of blows to the size of Azerius’ head, then dropped to a crouch, sweeping his leg out in a wide arc and knocking Azerius onto his ass. He leaped onto the demon, pinning his arms with his knees and grabbing his head, slamming it hard into the ground, again and again and again, caving in the back of his skull.
Blood poured from the would, from his ears, from his mouth, but Azerius only laughed.
