Page 6 of Song of Tenebrae

Looks like his friend needs a lesson, too.

“Exactly,” another chimes in, “she has to dance naked with all those scars to fucking survive. She’s nothing.”

Three now, looks like I’m about to have a busy night. The last one keeps his mouth shut and walks at a faster pace than the rest, seeming to be a bit put off by their attitudes. He can go.

“Jeremy!” the guys call out to him and he stops, “wanna hit one more bar?”

“Nah,” his smile is forced as he turns to look at them, “I’m tired.”

“Pussy.” They snicker and continue to call him names, but he continues on ahead, leaving them behind. Clearly, he’s the brains of the group.

The remaining guys enter yet another strip club and again sit in the front fucking row, reeking of desperation. They begin to heckle the girls much the same way they did Tempest and I watch closely, biding my time. I’m a patient man - for the most part - and I don’t mind waiting for the perfect moment. Unless that patience is tested by a raven haired, grey eyed demon, then all discipline flies out the window. No other has come along and tested me in quite the same way, telling me I’ve met my match. That’s why I claimed her as my own.

“Take off your clothes!” Billy yells at the dancer who looks tired and not wanting to show herself to the cockroaches staring up at her. My teeth crash together with a crack and I breathe through the sudden bout of rage, I can’t wait to watch him bleed.

Five minutes later and the dancer exits the stage, the guys are still obnoxious in the front row. Then I watch as one of Billy’s friends stands and heads toward the restrooms, perfect. I slowly pop up out of my seat and follow him inside, watching as he opens his pants in front of the urinal.

“Funny thing,” I begin and he startles, getting piss on his hand, “the men that talk the biggest game really do have the smallest dicks.”

“Why are you looking at my dick?” he snarls and begins to stuff himself back in his pants, easily I might add.

“You were at The Sanctuary earlier and you fucked with what’s mine.” I growl and take a step toward him.

“What?” he finally gives me a once over and swallows in fear.

“The witchy slut as you were calling her, ring a bell?”

“Look,” his hands come up, “I had nothing to do with that.”

“You’re right,” I nod, “why don’t you head out of here and leave me with your desperate friend instead?”

It’s a test, one he fails disastrously. He runs by me and opens the restroom door, but I’m quick as I latch onto the back of his head. I drag him out of the room and down the hall to the fire exit, kicking it open with my boot clad foot. He struggles with the hand I have snagged through his greasy hair but he’s no match. Not only is he drunk, but he’s also a lot weaker than me, and his fighting is futile.

I throw him up against the wall and he cries out as his head connects with the brick wall of the alley, the sound loud. I wince knowing that fucking hurt but then I smile when I begin to feel the same rush I always get before the kill. It’s been a while since I’ve drained someone of their life for myself. It’s not a sacrifice per se, but it has the same feeling, and I rejoice in the parts of it I enjoy. The power that comes with sinking your blade into a person’s flesh and watching as their life force runs free is exhilarating.

I pull out my knife and flick it open in front of his groggy face, his eyes immediately filling with tears.

“No, please,” he begs, “I will just leave.”

“Soon you and your friends can leave this mortal plane and reunite in the hottest depths of Hell.”

I quickly flick my wrist and the blade slides along his throat, opening the skin. The blood pours out rapidly, soaking through his shirt quickly. He falls to the ground, fighting death to the very end, but ultimately failing, again, miserably. I wipe the knife off on his shirt and open the door.

“Thank you for your sacrifice.”

I’m back in my seat and Billy is still sitting beside his one friend, uncaring about the whereabouts of the other. They’re both so engrossed in the naked woman above them that they don’t once question the absence of the man I killed. Never once looking around their pathetic fucking heads to see where he is. Once the woman moves off the stage, Billy’s friend hits his shoulder and points to the corridor.There you go.

They both get up and I smile at the stroke of luck. I can get rid of them at the same time and then get home in time for dinner, such a blessing. I follow them down the corridor and just as Billy goes inside the washroom, I have my arm around his friend’s neck. The snapping noise sends a rush of power over me as I back his body up and let the door close behind Billy, the dumb fuck none the wiser. I kick open the back door again and throw him out with his bloody friend, letting the metal door bang behind me.

The restroom door opens again and Billy’s head sticks out, “Will?”

“Which one is that?” I ask and his head snaps toward me, “the one with the buzz cut or the mullet?”

“What the fuck?’ he steps out into the hall and looks beyond me, “where are my friends?”

“Hmm,” I brush my beard between my thumb and forefinger, “in a better place, is that how the saying goes? It’s a fucking lie really, there’s only worse, whether you’re headed up or down.”

He sways on the spot as I come closer, “did you see my friends?” Fucking dumb piece of shit.

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