Page 54 of Ringmaster
Azrael
Itake a swig of soul-laced whiskey, then slam the glass down on the drink station next to the armoire. Tonight, I’m sending the demons terrorizing the town back to Hell where they belong. But first, there’s a beautiful girl lying awake, waiting for me to wish her goodnight. Warmth pulses through our bond. Her excitement trickles in, bit by bit. I send a rush of my own her way. She may not understand the bond yet—or feel it. But when she does, I want her to be flooded with all the love I have for her. I may not be ready to say it out loud, or even fully admit it to myself, but I won’t deny Mercy the most intimate access to my feelings when they rise to the surface like this.
As I dress in my slaying leathers, my gaze falls to the spot where I’ve hidden the sword: beneath a loose floorboard, magically disguised and protected. I can’t explain how I know that the Ringmaster and Lucifer must never get their hands on it. Maybe, since I’ve bonded to it by blood right, it would curse them if they tried to wield it. No—a weapon of Hell would never disobey theMorning Star. Which makes it all the more important that no one discovers it’s crossed into this realm.
Once I’ve dressed, I pour another shot from the decanter and toss it back. This pressure won’t ease until I’ve sent them screaming back to Hell. Only their rotting corpses will silence the rage crawling beneath my skin. I look at myself in the large oval mirror, run my fingers through my hair one last time, and flash a devilishly handsome grin at my reflection.
At last, I retrieve the sword. The moment my hand clasps the handle, ancient magic stirs—humming, brimming with power. I sheath it at my hip and tug on my jacket to conceal its presence.
I keep to the shadows as I slink through the hallway, careful to avoid every creaky floorboard. I don’t want to encounter the Ringmaster tonight. Silently, I weave down the hall, then the stairs, and finally slip out the front door into the dark night.
Outside, smoky shadows slither around my boots, curling up my legs settling as the ground beneath my step smolders, leaving faded footprints behind. My eyes turn to cold inky black stones. I thirst for souls. A wicked smile creeps across my lips as I stare up at the crescent moon, basking in the magical completeness I feel from all the power emanating from within my body.
More power claws at the edges of my soul, begging to break free. But I’m not strong enough. Not yet. Not until I find someone to feed on. As soon as I step over the property line, it’ll be easy to find my first victim. I just have to follow the streets into the heart of town, and that’s exactly what I do.
The moon follows me as I slip through the shadows, searching for the scum who dared lay a hand on my mate. I may as well make the most of it. This is an opportunity to eliminate one of them and devour his soul, damning him to eternal suffering with a never-ending sentence in Hell.
There’s an abundance of guilty souls tonight. Each one tainted just enough to make any of them an easy target. If I hadn’t already made up my mind, I’d have feasted by now. But I wait. Determination keeps me moving, patient—hunting.
It doesn’t take long. The perfect target stumbles down the street, reeking of guilt. He walks straight toward me, dumb enough to wander into a trap I didn’t even have to set.. A sinister smile curves my mouth. Bloodthirsty fangs protruding from where I keep them hidden. I lick over their pointed tips like a predator awaiting his meal—every muscle poised for the kill.
I extend my hand, summoning my shadows to deliver the glowing dagger strapped to my thigh. They respond instantly. One tendril unsheathes it, billowing shadowy tendrils curl around the hilt before sliding it smoothly into my palm. The others manipulate the darkness, cloaking my presence from the unsuspecting man.
He whistles a tune to himself, oblivious to death lurking nearby. I turn the dagger over in my hand impatiently, its runes glowing with anticipation. Just a few more steps. The hunger gnaws at me. I’m growing irritated. I need to feel his flesh tearing against my teeth, as his blood coats each one. But I’m hanging on to just enough of my humanity to keep it at bay a little longer.
Finally, he crosses the invisible line. My shadows strike, springing forward, clinging to the pathetic excuse of a man, encircling his entire body so he’s unable to escape. A lone tendril of darkness clamps over his mouth to keep him from crying out, then he’s yanked to the ground and dragged to where I stand waiting for him in the empty alley.
Dumped at my feet, the man stares up with a horrified expression plastered on his face. The scent of his terror fills the air, making him all the more irresistible. I need to claim his soul. The hunger is unbearable. But I’m going to take my time. I intend to toy with my meal before I deliver the final sentence.
My fingertips stroke over the blade lightly, its magic pulsing against them, begging to be plunged right into his heart, trapping the soul for my taking.
“Do you know who I am?” I ask, my teeth gleaming in the sliver of light from the crescent moon.
I wave my hand, releasing his mouth from its shadowy prison.
“N-N-NO, Sir,” he stammers.
“I… I… don’t want any trouble,” he gulps.
“Please, let me empty my pockets and send me on my way,” he begs desperately.
I click my tongue. “Oh, I’m afraid we won’t be doing that.”
“But my wife and children—”
I cut him off. “Does your wife know about the girls you buy for a night of pleasure? Don’t pretend to be something you’re not. I know what you really are. I can taste it.”
I crouch over him, pressing the knife to his skin, watching as a dribble of blood trickles onto the steel. “You’re not a gentleman, Jeremiah. No, I’m afraid you’re quite the opposite, and your sins have finally caught up to you.”
His eyes don’t meet mine. They remain fixed on my mouth… on the rows of serrated teeth eager to taste him. “I repent, devil. Spare me.”
My maniacal laughter starts slow, then builds. “I’m not the devil. Your repentance means nothing to me.”
“What are you?” he gasps, defeated.
“I’m death. And I’m here to be your executioner.” I slam the dagger into his still-beating heart, then lean in to whisper, “You should’ve kept your hands off what’s mine. Now, every man who’s ever touched her will die. Enjoy your stay in Hell.”
His eyes go wide just before I tear into his neck—shredding his soft skin the way an animal might, desperate for every drop of his soul. It trickles down my throat, coats my aching teeth, and fills me with the magical energy I desperately need to complete my hunt tonight. My eyes are cold and dark as I drink and drink until nothing is left of him.
