Page 20 of Demon's Prey
The man with the knife smiled underneath his mask. He moved his eyes to the men beside him, who chuckled with laughter. Faith was confused and shivering.
“That was Darren for you. Always with his rules.”
It had all come together for Faith at that moment. She had been kidnapped by Gideon’s Torch, and her informant was working from within the group itself. She felt like crying for the sacrifice this stranger had given her.
“Don’t cry for him, darling. He isn’t worth it. He’s a traitor, of course.” The man pushed the knife slightly harder into her throat. Faith could feel it beginning to pierce her.
“Just a fucking traitor,” another man exclaimed.
“Darren was always weak,” the man with the knife continued. “He kept to himself and didn’t share the same ideals. It was only a matter of time before he got killed.”
Why was he sharing this with her? She hoped that it wasn’t because they were planning on killing her like Darren. She knew that this story was serious, but fuck, did it really mean her life?
Faith strained herself against the knife. It would likely dig into her even deeper if she moved at all. She tried to use her gentlest, most sincere voice to speak to the men.
“Please, I haven’t found anything worthwhile. None of this can be used in court. Just let me go, please?”
The man with the knife threw his head back and laughed. The other men followed suit, and it sent chills up her spine.
“Oh, I think you’re going to find a nice resting place at the bottom of a river. Then you’ll be able to shut up forever.”
Faith felt like her eyes were going to start bleeding. She clenched them shut, bracing for the pain that was going to stream through her as her throat was slit. Instead, the man holding the knife pulled away, then stepped back away from her.
“What the fuck was that?” He inquired in the dark. He snapped at his two henchmen and ordered them to investigate. Faith’s eyes darted around her—she could only see the bridge and possibly hear a river nearby. If she hadn’t been bound, she would have leapt out of the van by then.
The man pointed the knife back at her. Faith looked at him upside down.
“Don’t you fucking move.”
The boom of the traffic was overshadowed by the deepest howl Faith had ever encountered. The man turned away from her and glared beyond the van, his eyes shooting open with absolute horror.
11
KURSE
Kurse returned to the sidewalk outside Faith’s apartment and looked around, completely startled. He removed the dowsing rod that he had originally used to locate her at the yoga studio, then stood motionless for a long moment.
The rod sat still, barely vibrating in the rush of wind. Kurse slammed it into the ground and crushed it with his foot.
“Useless!” He screamed.
People around looked at him wearily but continued on their way.
How was he going to find her? She’s supposed to be his fated mate, so perhaps he can try to use his psychic connection.
Kurse found a wall to lean against and closed his eyes. Usually, only fated mates and close relatives could use this ability to sense and communicate with their loved ones. Kurse and Faith weren’t exactly loved ones, but Kurse hoped it could head in that direction.
Kurse smelled blood and rust through his mind. He felt silk wrapped around her eyes. He felt her bumping for a while, then glaring upward at city lights. He couldn’t quite pinpoint the location until he was able to smell a river—a river not too far from where he stood.
He could use his sense of smell to locate it. Demons had a keen sense of smell—not as strong as a Lycan, but nevertheless useful. He held his fist and nostrils into the air as he yelled.
“Yes,! I’ve got it!” Kurse exclaimed. He startled an old woman walking with a cane nearby.
“Sorry!” He yelled back at her.
She only shook her head and continued walking. Humans were such strange creatures!
Kurse didn’t care. He had more important issues to tend to. His fated mate was missing, and he was going to make sure no harm would come to her.
