Page 17 of Demon's Prey
9
KURSE
Kurse decided that he had made Faith angry one time too many times. After she retreated to the bedroom, he took out pieces of paper that were their human currency and left to obtain more ice cream. She seemed severely displeased with him, and this was no way to start off with your fated mate.
He left the lobby holding the paper between his fingers. The sun was bright and hot, but he relished in it. He breathed in deeply and trotted toward the larger buildings that the other humans seemed to be flocking toward.
Kurse watched people as they lived their lives and passed him by. Some small, some large, many of different shades. He wondered why it was so easy for them to go day-to-day without breaking everything they touched.
As Kurse sauntered by an alleyway, he heard two men speaking sternly to someone. He turned and noticed that the men were dressed in all black and pointing a knife at a much smaller man.
Kurse guffawed at the sight. They were clearly amateurs who had no idea what they were doing.
His laugh echoed in the alley, and the men turned to look at him. Only the small man seemed utterly stunned by his presence.
Kurse made his way toward them, shaking his head. “You’re doing it all wrong, you see! You want to stab the victim first, then you take their money. So then you don’t have to deal with anything going wrong, just a dead body to tend to.”
One of the taller men, who was wearing a fedora, turned to him and hissed. Kurse frowned, utterly offended by his rejection of some solid advice. Kurse placed the paper currency in the line of his loincloth and pointed a long nail at the men.
“You shouldn’t act like that toward your elders. You know I am the Iron King, right?”
Before Kurse had a chance to say anything else, the man in the hat leapt onto his thick forearm, teeth digging into his scales. Kurse yelped at the surprising pain he felt shooting through him. The agility in which this man had displayed didn’t make him a human—there was certainly something magical going on.
The hatless man came at him and plunged teeth into the other arm. Kurse looked like he was sporting some new flesh sweaters that had been curated in hell. But these flesh bags were still alive—but only for the time being.
Kurse rolled his lips over his gums and ripped first into the hatless man, causing him to bleed wetly from his neck. Kurse flipped him over to the ground like a fish. The second man was harder to kill, so Kurse removed his limbs one by one, like taking apart a chicken wing.
Kurse was covered in scarlet blood, realizing that some had stained his loincloth. The man who was being robbed remained by the dumpster and cowered away from the violence. Kurse bellowed a deep laugh in his direction.
“Be thankful that this isn’t your blood I’m wearing!”
The man squealed like a mouse, then scurried away past Kurse. Kurse was confused by his lack of appreciation but shrugged his shoulders to move on anyway.
“Hey, you big red bastard.”
Kurse heard more voices behind him. He turned back down the alleyway in time to notice multiple men in all black crawling down the walls of the dark building like black widows. Kurse didn’t mind black widows, but only when they didn’t insult him.
The man who spoke had flaming red hair and bright grey eyes that shined in the dark. He wore a sleek jacket with letters inscribed on the sleeve: BROOD FOR LIFE.
It took Kurse a moment to realize that he had just fucked with the shifters' chief extremist group. Kurse rubbed at his fangs, making sure that they remained as sharp as when he had first left Kortanth.
“We’ve heard about a big dumb demon making its way to Earth. We even thought about making you a special member. But now you’ve made the last mistake of your life.”
The man was holding a giant weapon that looked like a machete. So were the other shifters, their eyes glaring at him with animal instinct.
Kurse was not afraid but felt mainly out of practice. The last time he fought was at the Oracle’s castle, and that murder was particularly delicious. He was hoping he still had it in him to commit some heinous homicide.
Three men hurled toward him at once. Kurse swung his thick tail around him and was able to whip two of them back against the wall. However, one man remained and climbed up his shoulder to his neck. He swiped at his scales, cutting one deep.
It fell from him like the leaves off a tree.
“You fuckers!” Kurse screamed and grabbed the man by his waist. He used his other hand to pull at his spine and successfully separate it from the rest of his skeleton. The man had no time to wail in pain.
Kurse tossed the bloody spine to his side. He raised both claws and motioned at them for more. He couldn’t wait to get a few more kills in.
Hesitant but willing, the red-headed man jumped forward, letting go of his weapon and shifting into a bear form. A bear was more of a match for Kurse, but Kurse wasn’t going to be defeated in such a vulgar place.
Kurse was able to connect a curled fist into the jaw of the bear while the other two remaining men began swiping at his legs. They were as thick as tree trunks, so they weren’t likely to be too damaged when all was said and done. He kicked at them like a cat swiping moths away.
