Harpy (Birds of Prey)

1. NO-vember

NO-vember

Eamon

His blood drips from my fingers, just another victim in a sea of faceless donors.

Though, the word donor implies consent. And this is anything but that.

I wish I had the excuses that other Biberé have—the bloodlust, the lack of critical thinking, the endless hunger. But I don't. What I have is far worse.

This man's thoughts had almost been too loud as he wandered into the dive bar an hour ago, convincing me that he was begging someone to stop him from doing what he planned. He didn't care who his victim would be, any woman in the crowd, just in the wrong place at the wrong time. In a move he's probably perfected over the years, he dropped the tablet under the guise of squeezing by her to order himself a new drink. Rather than watch the tablet and give himself away, he directed all his attention to the girl herself, oozing false charm.

Before the damned thing could reach the liquid in her glass, I let a small piece of the Aether open up, the tablet falling harmlessly through it and into my waiting palm.

The rest had been too easy. Pretending to be drunk— well drunk-er. Bumping into him and letting the thing fall into his own glass of dark liquor. I waited until his mind was fractured and searching for help, letting him believe my guiding words were his own thoughts and telling him to wander into the back alley.

Even in the bright light of the afternoon, no one with any survival instinct would wander back here. The shadow cast by the building and the trash cans would hide any sin, the discarded cigarette butts and used condoms on the gray concrete being proof of it.

The moment he spotted me leaning against the wall in the only spot that didn't seem obviously stained, the small rational part of his mind told him he was already in danger. Still, he ignored it, begging for the fight. He glared up at me, a mumbled "The fuck you lookin' at?" escaping him as he used the wall to remain upright.

No need for further stalling; my eyes turned red at the prospect of feeding, and my canines turned feral and sharp. The man didn't even have a chance to scream or fight before my jaw was around his neck, pulling the sustenance from his artery. He feebly pulled his arms up, pushing uselessly at my chest as I held his head and shoulder apart to drink the powerful liquid.

Sated for the moment, I allow him to fall onto the oil and trash-laden alleyway, and he stares up at me with a dazed expression, his mind so twisted by the drug he isn't sure what he's looking at.

Most mortals will see the impossible and fill in the blanks with something their mind can comprehend. An animal attack, a robber, whatever lets them continue living in the delusion that they might be the worst thing going bump in the night. And he would have been today had I not been here.

I should kill him, should end the suffering he planned to bring into someone's world. But I don't need to add to the body count I've amassed. Leaving him here, nearly unconscious, with excessive, ostentatious wealth dangling from his wrist in the form of the ugliest watch I've ever fucking seen will bring more trouble than he can survive anyway.

A vibration in my pocket distracts me from the pathetic piece of shit before me, and I answer without looking, "Yeah."

A panicked breath escapes my phone, followed by the voice of the whiniest motherfucker I've ever met, "Eamon!"

"Yeah," I repeat.

"Eamon, something terrible's happened. The Sanctum has my- my girl, they got her!"

"Your girl?" What the fuck? The last time I spoke to Fritz, the only person he ever consideredhiswas long since dead. "What are you talking about?"

"My Bel- well, our Bel. The Sanctu-cunts have her, Eamon. They have her and I don't know where they went and I need to get her and—"

I pinch the bridge of my nose, ignoring the smear of crimson it leaves behind. "Slow down." I don't care about the details of who this girl belongs to, but if Sanctus Sculitis has an innocent, that needs to be dealt with. "Where are you? Why do you think they have her?"

As he relays to me the small desert town he's in and what they've discovered on her phone, another voice interrupts him in the background, "Her last text to anyone else was Thursday night. She's ignored her parents and Isla for two days?"

Fritz's incessant whine radiates through my head again, "They only knew when we would be back because I texted them last night. Fuck!"

So, she's been with the Sanctum's men for at least two days. "Why did they take her?" I ask.

"Because she's Caspian's sacrifice," Fritz's voice wobbles frantically, and I groan.

"The dead Caspian?" my brows furrow in confusion.

"The recently back from the dead Caspian." Fuck.

As much as I wish I could leave this alone, tell them to mourn their toy and move on, in this situation, I cannot. A sacrifice being killed is the worst torture that can ever be leveled on one of our kind, and the backlash is almost always catastrophic. Entire cities burning to ash, massacres so violent they're blamed on nonexistent wars, cover-up stories of sadistic serial killers.

"Send me your exact location, and I'll be there in about 40," I tell him before abruptly disconnecting. 40 minutes will give me enough time to get home, clean up, and change into something that isn't sticky with blood. I give one last look to the vile man languidly trying to staunch the flow of scarlet coming from his neck, wishing I could inflict far more pain than he's already endured.

Drunken voices drift around the corner, alerting me to their approach. I probe their minds, gently sending quiet messages to walk this way so they might find my latest drink. Just before they reach us, I take a step backward, easing into the dark of the Aether, my room opening up to me on the other side. The last thing I register before the Aether closes is the sadistic laughter of the group upon finding what I've left for them, chuckling over their fortune at procuring a shiny new watch.

A quick shower later, I pull Fritz's location up on my phone, readying for whatever is to come. Knowing I'll be working with other demons, I let my monstrous form come out, breathing a sigh of relief at the freedom of this size. I had to build my home to be extra tall and wide to accommodate it, but it was worth it to be my true self while in my house.

The journey through the Aether is as easy as breathing now after decades of practice, and I can sense two demons on the other side of the landing before I can see them.

My eyes land on a nearly feral Fritz, his brown eyes so large it's comical, and an unknown other man next to him, who I can only assume is Caspian, looking similarly terrified. My first thought is to wonder where the fuck his shirt is, but before I can have another, a quiet voice reaches me, shocking me because I certainly hadn't sensed another person standing there.

"That's a big motherfucker," the feminine voice mumbles, the sound floating into my head like a powerful intoxicant.

A red haze fills my vision, fear and fury filling my veins as my eyes reach the source of the voice.

The most terrifyingly beautiful creature I've ever seen stands before me, hands on her hips as if her attitude could hide her thrumming pulse. Gray-green eyes meet mine, not lookingaway;meeting the challenge it is head-on. Long, flowing brown hair, a coolness to it like it's been kissed by moonlight, drapes across her shoulders. One immaculately groomed brow raises as if she's completely, utterly unimpressed by the monster before her, waiting for me to say something rather than just stare at her.

My eyes narrow, pissed that the answer to all of Fritz and Caspian's problems was right in front of them and they were too fucking stupid to see her for what she is.

"Why is there a hunter in your home?" I finally ask, and all the attitude drains from her face. Her expression and arms fall, trepidation taking over her body.

No one answers me. A silent beat passes as the three of them look at each other, and the woman freezes. Confusion twists her features for a moment before the mask of calm takes over again.

Upon realizing she's not going to say anything, Fritz's gaze turns to Caspian, accusation filling his tone, "Did you know about this?"

Caspian offers a slight shrug, looking chagrined, "I had my suspicions." He turns to me, the motion clear in my peripherals, but I find myself completely unwilling to take my eyes off the hunter before me, an uncomfortable new sensation making my chest hot. "How can you tell?"

"Simple," I bite. "I couldn't sense her standing there." Her eyes narrow back at me, arms lifting to fold in front of her, creating a shield between us. "Now I'll ask again. Why is there a hunter in your home?"

With a slight shake of her head, she argues, her furious voice filling my mind again, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you talking about? I'm not a hunter. I'm here trying to find my friend. The same friend that these assholes got kidnapped." Her fingers point between Caspian and Fritz in accusation.

Probing her mind, I find no trace of a lie, but that doesn't mean there isn't one, only that she's adept at not letting her thoughts find mine. A small laugh almost slips out of me at the lack of fear she's showing, literally surrounded by three monsters who could each kill her without even a fraction of effort. Instead, I push to see if deception or an answer to my question will bleed through her thoughts. "Whether you have chosen to step into the role or not, it's in your blood. What's your last name?"

Parker, the thought comes and then goes just as quickly, but rather than share it, she scoffs, "None of your fucking business, asshole."

Surprise leaves me frozen; no one dares to be so brazen with me in my mortal form, and certainly not this one.

My teeth grind together as I ask the question again, pushing her to my will even though I already have the answer I seek, "What's your last name?"

"Parker," she bites finally.

While I know the family name, I've been fortunate not to have run-ins with them. They usually do things behind the scenes, sending others to do their dirty work.

As the three of them begin doing the puzzle of figuring out where this Bel might be kept, I find myself wondering how it is that this girl escaped from her family's machinations. I now know her family name, but no one has mentioned her first name yet. The mystery of it plagues me for reasons completely unknown. Her gray-green eyes keep wandering to me, and mine to her, as she drifts through the apartment. I can almost see the wheels turning in her head, making sense of the madness around her.

Something urges me to mess with her, make snide comments, find all her buttons, and push them until they give under pressure. While she may not be involved with the hunters, that doesn't mean she's not still one of them. The instinct to fight us and kill us certainly resides inside her, whether she knows it or not.

And yet, I find myselfneedingto know her name.Achingto hear her say mine. I haven't met many female hunters in my time, them not being let out of their compounds very often, but none of them made my teeth tingle and beg to sink into their flesh like this.

She grabs an unused city map from a drawer, requesting a handful of items. Without any thought, I obey, handing her the things she needs and standing far closer to her than could be considered appropriate. If she and her hunter blood are going to unnerve me, I'm more than happy to return the favor.

Every biting comment she makes fills me with both unbridled anger and a craving to bend her to my will, make her fear and surrender to me, offer me anything and everything I could take from her.

Curious how she might respond to my kinder form, I disappear into the hall, transforming into it and throwing on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. As I reenter, my gaze immediately finds her again; she seems frozen, transfixed by the motion of me zipping up my fly. Her eyes drift up, slowly past my chest and shoulders, landing on my face as I lift one hand and run it through my hair, thoroughly enjoying her attention, even if she's giving it to me against her will.

"You gonna stare all day, or are we gonna get to work?" I taunt, watching a furious blush rise on her cheeks as she snaps her head back down to focus on what's before her. Her pounding heart and grinding teeth fill me with a sick sense of pride; pushing her buttons is as easy as breathing. Her hunter instincts tell her to hate me, yet her body clearly does not, goosebumps rising on her skin as I sink onto the couch beside her and help guide her to the answers she seeks.

Frustration fills her as she comes to what she believes is a dead end, but Fritzreaches out to comforther: "This is a huge start, Isla." The rest of what he tells her does not register in my mind now that I've heard her name: Isla. Isla Parker.

The name repeats over and over, leaving me wondering if there's some importance to it or if being this close to a hunter and not being allowed to harm her is playing tricks on my psyche.

As she narrows it down further, I tease her about her hunter instincts, indulging in the angry red that spreads across her face.

Everything has been fun and games until I make the mistake of telling her that she's going to be staying here, where she's safe, while Fritz, Caspian, and I go in search of her friend.

Rage fills her features, overshadowing any sense of self-preservation she might have in a room full of monsters, "You think you're leaving me behind?"

I have no doubt that she would be a formidable force to have next to us, but knowing what I do about hunters, I'm unwilling to let her get anywhere near them. "Oh, Iknowwe're leaving you behind." A smirk pulls on the corner of my lips, "You're safest here." While it's not a lie, I can't help that I love denying her what she wants.

"And if they come back?" she quirks a brow.

I pull a small pistol through the Aether, placing it in her palm, "Point and shoot. Then call us and we'll come clean up the mess."

She takes the thing in her hand, twisting it this way and that, more comfortable holding it than she ought to be, leading me to believe it's certainly not the first time she's held one. The weapon looks so good in her hands, like she was made to wield something so wicked. Which, I guess, she was.

"You're not going without me," she states. Giving the order while holding such a dangerous toy in her hand heats my blood, sending warning signals flaring through my mind even while my body responds with a hunger unlike any I've ever known.

Shaking off the heady desire, I tell her, condescension dripping from my tone as I gaze down at her, "Look, Sweetheart—"

As the gun clicks and she points it right at me, my entire body stands at attention, my cock painfully hard behind my zipper, begging to be freed and used to bring this dangerous little spitfire to her knees.

A quiet growl grows in my chest as I step into the gun, letting it brush against me, a challenge I hope she'll takesending pleasure zipping up my spine, "Do it." Her eyes stay locked on mine, neither of us willing to back down from this game of chicken.

Shit.

I want to fuck her. Want to wrap those locks around my fist, pin her to the floor with her ass in the air and rail her into oblivion. Want to leave her perfectly lush ass black and blue, place bite marks on every inch of her body until she's drenched in sweat and cum and blood, begging me to finally grant her release.

And JesusChrist ,she wants it, too. The scent of her desire can't be hidden from me. The familiar crimson haze fills my vision again, clouding her in a visage of a red-tinged world as the monster inside me fights against its chains, fighting to break her down until she's nothing but mine. She might hate me, but her body craves me, much to her endless torment.

For a tiny moment, her mind connects to mine, unbidden images of us rolling together between the sheets, her shrieking and throwing her head back as waves of pleasure wash over her, project accidentally into my head, driving me fucking crazy knowing she's drenched just from pointing a gun at me.

The delicious, tense moment is broken by Caspian, and Isla shakes her head to clear it of the thoughts. Before we can go back to trying to fight or fuck each other, the Sanctum resumes their torture of Bel, sending all of us into a frenzy to find and save her while we can.

With painstaking effort, I push away the filthy thoughts I have of Isla, chalking it up to attraction and the strange way the hunters and demons react to each other.

The rest of the day is a blur of fighting and sneaking into the local compound, avoiding hunters to keep my body count from growing. As much as I hate the Sanctus Sculitis, I don't hate the young people who have been manipulated into being a part of it. It's not their fault, and they shouldn't be held responsible for their own brainwashing.

Dragging this Bel home, literally kicking and screaming, isn't exactly how I thought my day would end, but her being alive is a lot more than Caspian and Fritz could have hoped for.

After nursing her wounds the best I can with my small arsenal, I excuse myself, knowing the fight between them and the Sanctum is far from over. I wish they were smart enough to just leave it alone.

They're alive.

They're together.

That's a lot more than most of us can say about our loved ones after facing the Sanctum.

Against my better judgment, I send a small team to keep an eye on Isla when I return home, knowing it would be too foolish to do it myself. She would sense me coming a mile away if her instincts were any good. But a handful of my best placed inconspicuously into her life tomake sureshe doesn't get dragged into her family's mess? That's the least I can do until I can ensure she's not someone they can use to bring more loss into this world.