Page 55 of Trapped By the Blood Ruby

The first was male.

“Good evening,” he greeted.

The demon spat on the ground at his feet. There was no point in torturing them for answers. Not when he could get it from their blood. His stomach already roiled at the prospect, but information was worth the revulsion.

He struck, fangs sinking into flesh. The taste hit him immediately—putrid and vile—but he pushed through it. Drinking from any creature, just like drinking from humans, required skill. One could simply ignore the blood memory. Or, one could riffle through it. Having access to the vein, to the source, allowed one to access all memories. So he sifted through everything, then let the dead creature sag in its chains.

“Disgusting,” he hissed, wiping his mouth.

Marco handed him a handkerchief.

“This one didn’t know much. Only interacted with a couple of vampires after they were restrained and weakened. Useless.”

“That’s unfortunate. We’ll have to try the others.”

They moved to the next cell.

Laurent grimaced, still tasting the foul essence of the first demon. This one, likewise, had only the same experience as the other. He was one of the grunts who simply helped keep an eye on the facility.

The third, a female, was better dressed. She watched them warily. “I suppose you’re here for what I know.” When he didn’t respond, she continued with, “How about I tell you what I know, and you let me walk?”

Marco’s laugh was low. “She tried that with me, too.”

“You do realize I can get whatever I want from your blood,” Laurent said.

“Yes, but, I also could offer you more than that.”

“Hope you don’t mean your cunt,” Marco snipped.

The female demon ignored Marco, eyes on Laurent. “They don’t know I was captured. I can go back, feed you information from the inside⁠—“

He struck, ripping into her neck. The day he worked with a demon was the day hell froze over. He sank into her mind, her memories, trying to ignore the fetid taste of her life-force. When he came away, he was all but choking.

“Fuck,” he nearly roared. “I need something to wash that down with.” His stomach roiled. He spun on his heel and vomited everything back up. Black, vile blood. It tasted of garbage and rancid meat. He hadn’t expected it to stay down, but that didn’t matter.

“I got what I needed. Get them out of here. I don’t want the stench of them spilling into the manor.”

“Yes, sire.”

“Return to my study when you’ve finished.”

It didn’t take long before Marco found him again. Most of his study was in order by then. Laurent went to the wall. An invisible latch opened a small panel. He’d never shown Marco this—never shown anyone. As the panel slid away, a small alcove of shelves appeared. “I had these moved when I took up permanent residence here.”

Marco stepped forward, hovering just behind him.

He ran his fingers along the spines, checking the dates stamped in gold foil, looking for one in particular, some three thousand years prior. He stopped, began again, then frowned. He pulled the entire stack out and dropped it onto the coffee table near the sofa. “Look for the one dated 900BC,” he instructed.

They began searching anew.

“These were your father’s journals,” Marco said, surprised. “He kept journals?”

“Yes, as do I. As will you when you become head of this family.” He looked up, caught Marco gaping at him. They hadn’t discussed it often. But when it was time, Marco would become head of House Sarkas, taking up its namesake. Until then, he simply remained heir to House Sarkas.

“I’m not exactly the diary type,” Marco drawled.

“Too fucking bad,” he muttered. “Damn it,” he hissed, tossing the last journal back onto the table. “It’s not here.”

A cold dread settled in his stomach. If someone had taken it deliberately, they’d know exactly what they were looking for—and why. He scrubbed his hands over his face, feeling the rough stubble of his jaw.