Fangs & Freaks (Shifters of Myths and Legends #1)

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Blackwell

I look around my torture room, the dark, oppressive space meant to induce fear and pain in my victims. It’s the one place other than upstairs in the clubhouse where I feel one hundred percent myself. I’d love nothing more than to unleash my true devilish form on the world, but there are rules. Letting mortals know of our existence would mean immediate death, and I’ve come to love my immortality.

My eyes drop to the center of the room, where a lone metal table sits on the cold and blood stained stone floor, evidence of the vast memories this room contains. My very own history book, if you will.

He’ll fall victim to the various instruments of torture I have mounted on the walls—chains, shackles, whips, saws, and any other device you can think of to cause the most extreme pain.

Next to the table is a wooden chair secured to the floor with bolts and fitted with straps to hold my victim in place. Directly in front of it on the wall is a mirror, my own sadistic joy at making my toy watch their untimely demise.

Currently, I have Homer Beltone sitting in the chair, his cries filling the air as I sit with my feet propped on the table, picking the crusted blood from beneath my nails. I can hear the pounding beat of his heart, fear hitting him that he’s not going to walk out of here tonight. I haven’t said anything to him since he woke up from the beating I gave him at his home, the enjoyment of his demise was too great.

Once I’ve picked my nails clean of his contaminated fluids, I drop my feet to the floor and lean forward in my chair. It’s time to play. My favorite part of the day. The pleading screams of my victims are pure music to my ears.

“Homer, Homer, Homer, you’ve been a naughty boy, especially when the Crimson Brotherhood has treated you so well. We even offered to make you one of us in due time, once you earned your place and we felt you were worthy.” I press the end of the blade into my finger, pricking it, letting a small amount of blood begin to flow from the puncture. “Looks like you blew it.”

My hand grips tighter around the handle of the switchblade as I give a gleeful smirk at Homer. With a speedy flick of my wrist, I toss the blade upward. The knife flips end over end as its sharp edge briefly catches the light before falling downward. My eyes follow its every movement as it falls, my hand poised, ready to catch it. The hilt of the switchblade comes into view, and with one swift motion, I extend my fingers upward—my thumb and forefinger clasping the handle as I drive the blade downward into Homer’s leg. He lets out a gut-curdling scream as his head flies backward. If the chair wasn’t bolted to the floor, he would’ve tipped it over, falling onto the cold concrete floor.

“You’re fucking insane!” He screams once he’s able to regain control of his senses.

“Certifiable actually. It’s what the sanatorium classified me as when they deemed me to be a serial killer. But there’s nothing serial about it. There was no rhyme or reason to my murders. It was all about the blood. It called to me. Much the same as it does now. Unfortunately, yours repulses me.” I grip the handle of the blade tighter, twisting it, pushing it deeper into his thigh before ripping it down toward his knee.

“Blackwell, I made a mistake. Please let me go. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“And how will you do that, Homer?” I let go of the blade, leaving it in place, and stand up, cracking my neck. “Can you get back the blood you stole from us and gave to our adversaries? A lowly club of vamp babies. Did you think we were so stupid we wouldn’t notice, or figure out who the thief amongst us was?” I’m momentarily distracted by the pulsing vibration in my pocket. My phone. Who would dare to call me when they know I’m in here with this vile human?

“I was scared they’d hurt me if I didn’t.” His whiny voice grates on my nerves.

With an agile swiftness, my body moves toward him. I press my knee down onto his cock and bare my fangs as I grasp the thinning tendrils of his hair in my hands. “And you’re not afraid of us? It’s as if you don’t know us at all. We could annihilate that whole group in one swift movement. We’re the demons of the night that have been…” I shake my head, laughing boldly. “Well, I guess I don’t have to tell you, seeing how you just pissed yourself. Do you need a diaper, Homer, maybe a paci to go with it?” I pull away from him, grimacing at the wet stain on my jeans.

“Black—”

I shove a hand over his mouth, pressing mine against his ear. “Shh, no more from you, thief. I can hear the heavy thrumming of your heart. With each beat, it’s pounding against your rib cage, begging to break free, already knowing it’s going to pump blood through your arteries and veins for the last time tonight. Well, unless I feel like carrying your torture out for days, taking pleasure in each minute of your cries to end it all. Because trust me, Homer, your begging will change from releasing you to killing you swiftly.” My phone vibrates in my pocket once again and I push away from Homer, pulling it from my pocket. “What!” I bark into it.

“Calm the fuck down, brother.” Warrick’s cold, stern voice filters through the line, calming the anger that had boiled within me at the disruption.

“You know I’m playing, and I hate to be disturbed until I’m done. It’s this or I go on another murderous rampage, exposing who we are,” I remind him. It took a lot for them to bring me back the last time I went off the rails in the mid-nineties while we were in Las Vegas. Thankfully, Tony Ray Amati was in the right place at the right time, and was easily blamed for my killings.

“We’ve got a new job, so finish it up and get up here. We need to work fast on this one.” The line goes dead and I slip my phone back in my pocket. There’s no use arguing or dilly-dallying. When Warrick speaks, I listen. Not because he’s my brother or my prez, but because I know he’d never disturb me if it wasn’t important.

I turn back to the man sitting in the chair, yellow liquid pooling beneath him, and I grimace. As much as I hate to let prospects into my inner sanctum, there’s no way I’m cleaning that up.

“Well, Homer, it seems this is your lucky day. I’ve been called away to another job that takes priority over you.” His face lights up at my words, a sense of calm taking over him as his heartbeat slows with the new information.

My hand moves with blinding speed, shattering his chest and grabbing his heart in a brutal, forceful grip. “But it’s not mine, since I don’t get to play any longer. Give the devil my best regards.” With my last word, I pull his heart from his chest, taking pleasure in watching it take its last beat in my grasp, before dropping it to the floor.

“Prospect,” I bark at the newly turned vamp. His blood pumps loyalty through and through. It’s why we turned him before the cancer had a chance to ravage his body. The doctors gave him false hope that he could beat it and live a long life. If only they knew his diagnosis had no happy outcome, but Warrick and I did. Call it a sixth sense, or simply years of being on this earth watching mortals succumb to the vile disease.

“Yes, Sir.” He rushes over, skidding to a halt before me. Sir , I like that. He’s quickly become my favorite of all the newbies. Maybe I’ll take him under my wing and guide him down the path of depravity, turning him into a mirror image of myself.

I gesture lazily to the chaos around us. “Clean up the room. Dispose of the trash. I don’t want to smell that filth lingering.”

His eyes flicker to the wreckage—splintered wood, shredded fabric, and the lifeless remains of the unfortunate soul who’d crossed us—and he nods without hesitation. “Yes, Sir. Right away.”

Good boy. I smirk as he moves with purpose.

I trudge up the stairs to find out what would dare cause Warrick to interrupt my fun time. He knows how much I need it to level out my raging bloodlust.

When I get to his door, I don’t even bother knocking. He interrupted my fun, so I can only hope to do the same to him. Hopefully, he’s cock deep inside some club bunny’s throat, her head bobbing up and down his thick, pierced shaft, tears streaming down her face from the grip he has on her head. Let’s see how he feels being barged in on just before he’s able to orgasm. My dark heart lights with glee at the thought. Both he and the whore will be left wanting for more, their bodies writhing in agony from not obtaining the release they so eagerly desired. Revenge is delicious, almost as tasty as blood. The only reason it doesn’t measure in higher comparison is due to its intangibility.

My bubble bursts when I step inside, only to find him alone behind his desk. This can’t be right. I drop to my knees, the impact sounding through the room as I make contact with the thin carpet. I press my body flat and peer underneath the small opening that separates the bottom of the desk from the floor.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Warrick stands, leaning over his desk. I stand up from the floor and let my eyes slowly scan his body. He’s fucking dressed, jeans buttoned and zipped.

Fuck this shit! Why can’t I catch a break? Not only did he ruin my playtime, but I didn’t get to fuck with his.

“Doesn’t matter, since you weren’t getting your knob polished anyway.” I drop down in the chair, stretching my legs out wide as I cross my arms over my chest and pout. Yeah, I’m man enough to admit I’m acting like a fucking toddler, but I don’t give a shit. Warrick has me this close to running out that fucking door and starting a new killing spree. Let him worry about how to fucking cover it up.

Warrick throws his head backward, his chest shaking as a loud laugh rips from his mouth. I silently steam that he’s taking joy in my pain.

“What the fuck did you call me up here for? If it’s for this, then I’ll fucking kill you.” I don’t care that he’s my prez at this moment. Right now, he’s my enemy. I barely hold it together on a good day, and now he’s gone and fucked with that.

“Fine. We got a new mission. One I think you’ll like, and it’ll make up for interrupting you. Besides, you can go back and finish when we’re done.”

“Nope, can’t do that.” Warrick raises his eyebrow in confusion.

“And why’s that?”

“Fucking ripped his heart out of his chest. It’s not fun to go back and play once I’ve been interrupted. You know that about me. Don’t play dumb. Now tell me about this case and why you think I’ll like it.”

“I had a visit today from a woman?—”

“Whoop-de-fucking-do. Did she suck your cock?”

“Damn Blackwell, get your panties out your ass and chill the fuck out. When we’re done, you’ll have your fill of torture, but get yourself together.” He shakes his head at me before mumbling, “I’m working and living with fucking kids.”

“I’ll show you a kid.” I grip my cock as I thrust my hips upward.

“Fuck, can we get back on topic here? I had a visit. Seems this girl’s brother was kidnapped, and she wants our help to get him back.”

“Since when do we care about a kid who may have simply just ran away from home? Sounds like the girl may be stifling him.”

“He was taken by the Obsidian Circle.” My eyes light up and I lean forward in my chair. This just got interesting. Warrick knows he has my attention and continues. “But that’s not even the best part.”

“What could be better than fucking with that band of crazies? They make me look sane, and that's not an easy feat.” I’m so excited about the news I can barely sit still, bouncing around in my seat like a kid in a toy store.

“The guy that was kidnapped? He’s a fucking unicorn.”

My eyebrows arch in surprise, my eyes wide as I attempt to process the bombshell my brother and Prez just hit me with. I let out an uncharacteristic gasp as my mouth falls open. For the first time in my life, I’m momentarily at a loss for words, but my brain reboots, and I remember how to talk.

“You fucking with me? What’s the real story?” I ask him, knowing he has to be yanking my chain.

“That’s it. Bonus, as payment, we’re getting a pint of the sister’s blood for nine months. Collected the first one today.”

“Seriously? No way! A fucking unicorn. I thought they were a story, a fairytale for kids. I mean, there were rumors they were real, but no one has seen one in fucking thousands of years.” My mind slowly catches up with the wealth of emotions coursing through my immortal body.

Warrick clears his throat and when I glance up at him, his lips are pressed tightly together as he glares at me. “Blackwell, I know you’ve been dying for this encounter with the Obsidian Circle, but you need to keep it together. This is a paying job and a chance to get our hands on a rare creature’s blood. We also don’t need a repeat of what happened last time we met them. You know the headache it was to cover up your killing spree.”

“I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.” I hold my fingers up, giving him my best Boy Scout salute. What he doesn’t see is that, on my other hand, I have my fingers crossed. So, technically, when this goes south, I’m not a liar. But I’ll do my best to uphold my promise.