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We moved forward stealthily, while inside my head the song,Staying Aliveplayed on repeat. Of all the songs that might have gotten stuck inside my head during the apocalypse, it had to be the freaking Bee Gees.
A giggle bubbled in my throat, but thankfully never made it past my lips. I had no idea how I would explain my sudden outburst of humor to Alex, who, grim faced—a fact that seemed to amuse me even more—kept pulling me forward.
"How far is the airport?" I asked after we made our way past several blocks.
He pushed me into a narrow alleyway and pulled out a bottle of water, offering it to me. This time I took it and greedily gulped down the still cold electrolyte-enhanced liquid.
"I figure it will take us a few hours," he said after he drank some too.
"Hours?" I asked perplexed. "In this?"
So far, we had been lucky to not have encountered any of the flying creatures up close and personal, but I didn't want to bank on our luck holding out like this. The gunfire and screams died down a little while ago, had become more sporadic, but I didn't think for one second that it meant the creatures were retreating.
One flew close by the alley; its gray body was sprayed with black and red blood, making me shudder. Sharp fangs glistened on a head the size of a large Saint Bernard while it was as tall as a Great Dane, but hairless, gray, and muscled.
The creature's wings reminded me of bat wings, except that they were probably ten feet long to accommodate the monster's body.Gargoyle, my mind supplied, let's call it what it looks like. What was the saying? If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck… Again, I suppressed a nervous giggle.
"You ready?" Alex asked.
Ready for what I wondered? To be ripped to pieces by one of these gargoyles? And how had those things managed to fly a spaceship?
So far, my cold nature had served me well. I could look at the bodies littering the streets with detachment, but I wondered how much longer I could hold it together.
Myfangstingledandsaliva filled my mouth. The scent of blood was in the air and screams of terror awakened the predator inside me, heightening my hunting instincts.
This was what Behlial had promised us, unrestrained hunts. To gorge ourselves on the blood of the Adamas until our bellies burst.
When my feet made contact with the hard asphalt though, and I watched the first gargoyle rip an Adama to pieces, something inside me recoiled. This wasn't a hunt; this was a bloodbath.
"Run!" A man screamed, pulling on my arm as he ran by me only to be tackled by another blood hungry gargoyle. The man, the Adama, curiously looked like us Daemons, if one could look past the fact that the man's face was riddled with wrinkles and his belly flopped while he ran. That, and the fact that he was bald.
I stepped around the carnage, my nose wrinkled at the scent of the disease riddled, unclean blood coming off the dead man. This was what we were supposed to gorge ourselves on?
A woman ran from a building, her long hair trailing behind her as she waved her arms in the air in sheer panic. Her eyes fell on me. "Help, help me."
She was younger and her scent was not entirely unpleasant, albeit tainted with the odor of some disease. Before I could decide one way or another, one of the gargoyles swooped in on her, took one quick sniff and its winged hands clamped over the woman's shoulders while its arms snaked around her waist to pull her up into the air. A Tainted then? The gargoyle would keep her safe and take her aboard theAsphodelwhere the other Tainted would introduce her to her new life and cleanse her of any sickness she might have. Maybe I would sample her later; she wasn't that bad looking.
Later, after choosing my bride.
I snorted derisively. I had no taste for the spectacle Behlial would put on later. None. I did not want a bride even if she was a full-blooded Nayphyllym. I would not bind myself to another person. Never had and never would.
Being alone was the only way to survive Behlial's devilish contest that would begin after our choosing ceremony.
My entire life, I had been trained and prepared to kill my six brothers. Behlial taught us to hate one another while Ishtar—despite my better judgment a slight smile lifted my lips at the thought of the only female I would ever feel an attachment toward—tried to teach us decency and attachment to each other. By all rights, she was my mother, even though she hadn't given birth to me.
The female who did was now living her best life on Elysian, away from the mayhem that was about to take place. I didn't begrudge her choices especially considering she hadn't been afforded any in this demonic quest.
The duty of the seven chosen brides was to give birth to a son, nothing more, nothing less. From what Ishtar said, sometimes bonds were formed, but what I learned from her stories was that those bonds usually led to the contestant's death.
I also saw no sense in mating with my chosen since I had no intentions of fathering another son for Behlial's sick quest. As far as I was concerned, he had brought this on himself, and I would not play a part in it. I would stay above the fray and watch my brothers kill each other, who seemed so eager to do just that. Even though none of us knew what kind of prize awaited the winner besides being alive.
Nobody knew what happened to the victor.
Another female ran screaming across the street, pursued by one of the nobles who had joined this journey just for this day. Ostensibly, they were aboard to bear witness to Behlial's quest.
This wasn't a hunt. Even the predator inside me remained quiet as I watched the noble drain the female of her blood and discard her body like a broken doll. I shook my head in disgust. This wasn't a sport; this was like setting a lion loose inside a pen filled with lambs.
Damn Behlial. Damn him to hell.
