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Something hit me against the shoulder, and I turned, ready to attack. Nergal's smirking face greeted me.
"Don't tell me you don't have a taste for blood like our simpering brother Seth," he scoffed.
I had never thought of Seth as simpering but wasn't in the mood to pick a fight with Nergal over this. Nergal and Balaam were Behlial's favorite sons, mean as snakes, and just as rotten as the King of Darkness himself.
Nergal boastfully wiped a spattering of red blood from his lips. "Not as good as our stock, but more plentiful, and one isn't required to stop."
I saw no sense in telling him that draining any creature of their blood until they were lifeless was an utter waste of resources. Nergal would have never understood or shared my sentiments. And, for a moment, I considered that playing a more active role in the contest might have its own rewards if it meant shutting Nergal up for good. That moment, however, passed as my brother took off running.
Detached, I watched his form vanish into a shop, followed by screaming and, with a sigh, I moved the other way. With disgust, I stared at the gore littering the ground. So many dead, so many wasted resources.
Another noble, drenched in blood from head to toe, exited a building. I was just about to move in the opposite direction when a scent hit me.
A scent so sweet, so enticing, I closed my eyes and lifted my head to inhale it more deeply. Whatever the source of the scent was, it smelled like sheer ambrosia. Dizziness overcame me just from inhaling it, and I wondered, how much more intoxicating would it be to actually drink from the well?
Coincidentally, the scent came from the same direction the noble had turned to. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Something so alien moved inside my chest that I placed my hand on top of my sternum and rubbed it.
No heart beat inside me. A heart was there, but it was the most useless muscle inside my body. Dormant, it took up space like a leech, making me wonder about its purpose, which I was sure it had to have; I had just never been curious enough about it to find out.
Ishtar's heart pumped, as well as those of the Tainted in our service, but I had never met another Daemon whose heart pumped.
And yet, the inside of my chest suddenly felt like it cramped, not painful, just very uncomfortable.
According to one of Ishtar's many, many stories, a Daemon's heart would begin to beat when we met our karamia, what she called soulmate, which literally meant chosen heart. Whatever. According to Ishtar, she had witnessed many of hersons'hearts come to life.Oh yeah? I had challenged,was that right before they were killed?
Oh, Azazel, you have no romantic cell in your body, she chided me with her deep soulful eyes, making me feel bad about myself the way only she could.
Driven by I didn't know what, I followed the scent as it slowly grew in intensity the more blocks we put behind us. The noble seemed just as single-mindedly focused on our prey as me and never paid me any mind.
Soon we left the taller buildings of the city behind us and entered a more residential area with only a few traces of the gore the gargoyles liked to leave behind. Trees lined the streets. Even leafless, they caught my attention. I liked plants, liked the greenery and colors of the pretty flowers. They held a certain beauty to them that made me forget about my dreadful life without a future.
Born a little over three hundred and fifty years ago, I didn't have many more left to look forward to. In a couple hundred years more, we would reach Tartarus, and if I survived the contest, I would find my destiny there, even though nobody knew or was willing to say what it was.
I shrugged, more concerned with the delicious scent that grew stronger than with thoughts of my uncertain future. Finally, the predator inside me awakened, and I began to feel like the hunter my ancestors had been born to be.
Splatteredinblackblood,Alex's and my luck ran out after we ran a few more blocks and three gargoyles attacked us. Thankfully, the beasts weren't immune to good, old-fashioned bullets, but one came close enough to me that when I shot it, its black blood splattered me from head to toe.
Most of the blood on Alex had transferred from me to him after he carried me into a dark alley, where we now stood, huddled. Me trembling, him holding me.
"It's ok, we did it. They're dead." He tried to soothe me.
Leaned against his strong body, I felt the hard thud thud of his heart, which felt comforting. It reminded me of my own, reminded me that I was still alive despite everything I had seen and been through with the attack.
Suddenly, I felt something hard pressing against me and I realized it was his stiffening cock. With a cry I recoiled, pushing my hands hard against his chest, pushing him into the wall and putting even more distance between us by jumping against the other. "Let go of me."
Shamefaced for my overreaction, I gave him a quick glance from lowered lids. "I'm sorry, that was… a bit over the top."
"It's okay," he smiled at me. "It's not your fault. It's in your blood."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "What's that supposed to mean? Are you calling me a frigid bitch?"
I bit my lip. It seemed overreacting was my modus operandi for the past few minutes. He put his hands in front of him to show he meant no ill intent and tilted his head. "Didn't your parents tell you?"
"Tell me what?" I spat, still not in control of my voice or emotions.
Heat rushed into his face, and he looked a bit sheepish as he rubbed his neck with one hand while the other still held on to his gun.
"Let's get out of here first, I'm sure your parents will—"
