Chapter 12
12
Ramone
My irritation with Branko boiled under my skin. I hated change. Things should’ve been neat, orderly, subject to my every whim and command. With my magic I could control the weather, the scenery, human urges and desires. The very movement of the planets was mine to manipulate if I desired to exert that much effort. There was no reason why anyone else, human or not, should be able to control my fate. Being unable to visit any other realm pissed me off. If I could go there for at least an hour, maybe I’d have answers. I just knew he’d find out somehow and report me when he had the chance if I attempted a visit. With Lucian gone, perhaps it’d be easier. But Julian would find out.
My estate in the Fourth was in ruins and the kingdom I’d enjoyed for its peacefulness had fallen. Branko had stated those supposed facts right before he’d walked out. I was tired of his visits, him showing up whenever he felt like it. Not that I’d spent much time outside of the woods or past the doors of either of my homes, but it was a favorite place.
At one time, I’d been unable to leave and venture here without assistance. Copious amounts of Kiara’s magic had been ingested by me to solve that dilemma, but now the tables had been turned and I was trapped here.
Once I’d changed into a pair of soft lounge pants and freshened up, I checked my appearance. My eyes glowed with hunger, and the ink etched into my skin across my chest, arms, and shoulders glimmered. Would Samantha find me beautiful? Most humans did, but it was only her opinion that mattered. I slipped silver talons onto the fingers of my left hand and closed my bedroom door behind me. One day, it’d be Samantha’s room too.
When I re-entered the living room after Branko left, dinner was served. Two women, in their early twenties from the looks of it, sat on one of the velvet couches. I eyed them as I stalked by, flicking two fingers at one of them. Her legs spread, and a low moan drifted from between her full, painted lips. Those lips would be around my cock sooner rather than later, I decided. The other girl tore her gaze from me to stare at her friend who was now rolling a nipple between two fingers, trapped under my thrall. A lime green sheen wafted in the air around her head, jealousy spreading its thread-like vines. I would have no mercy; she could wait. Besides, jealousy had a spicy flavor I hadn’t relished for a while.
“Drinks?” I asked, holding up a decanter. Not pausing for an answer, I filled three glass tumblers and handed two of them to the women before reclining on the opposite couch. Leaning back, I tossed a long leg across the cushions and waited.
Sure enough, the envious girl slithered from the cushions. She got down on all fours, capturing my interest, while licking her lips. Her eyes skimmed my form, snagging on my swelling cock and she looked up at me, grinning. I laid my head back against the armrest and closed my eyes.
Small hands pulled the drawstring enclosure at my waist, the soft skin of her fingers brushing against the smattering of hair resting on my lower torso. I lifted my hips when she tugged at my pants. A warm, moist mouth licked the bead of precum, and I clenched her hair, arching my back. She gagged, her nails scratching my thigh as I thrust repeatedly, choking her. Tears streamed down her face, but I held her in place. Her arms and hands flailed uselessly, attempting to gain purchase so she could escape. I fisted more of her hair, feeling some strands loosen from her scalp.
The other girl sprang up from the couch. What a hero. I waved my fingers at her, trapping her against the floor while she screamed her outrage. Twisting my wrist, I turned her head and forced her to watch. With a taloned index finger, I pierced the neck of the girl in my lap. Her blood dripped onto my thigh, and I dragged her up, right against my mouth before I sucked in her essence, her soul, while her helpless friend whimpered from the floor. I ejaculated all over my victim's bare stomach with a roar, picturing Samantha’s luscious lips stained white.
I shoved the body onto the floor and laid back while I basked in the sensations coursing through my veins. Cells replenished, the life force renewing my blood and my spirit just like flowers blooming in the throes of Spring. The scents and fragrances of being alive dazzled my own soul as if I were held by the very sun in the skies itself.
A new scent filled my consciousness, the rich scent of deep crimson roses illuminated in a sunbeam. My heart seized, shattering under my ribcage. Nausea filled my belly, bile gathering and burning in the back of my throat and then panic overtook me as I fell from the sofa, landing on my knees.
“Adam!” I bellowed.
The man rushed into the room. I couldn’t see him; I couldn’t open my eyes. “Remove them. Now.” I gestured vaguely; aware he would know what I meant.
“Am I interrupting your ‘come to Jesus’ moment, son?” My eyes opened, but not of my own accord.
Rolling over, I looked up. Fuck. “What in the hell are you doing here?”
“Tsk, tsk,” Julian snickered. “Is that any way to greet your father?”
I pulled myself up off the floor as Adam began to drag the crying woman away, leaving the corpse to come back to afterward. “I didn’t invite you.”
“An unnecessary formality, Ramone.” Julian shook his head, moving the golden blonde strands of hair from his shoulders. He tugged on the hem of his suit jacket, the obnoxious color of an Easter egg, a lacey handkerchief peeking out of the chest pocket.
He sauntered over to the shelf where the cursed wine sat and poured two glasses, holding one out for me. “I’m not drinking that,” I said, forcefully.
His features rippled and I caught sight of discolored flesh before his visage returned to that of a pretty doll. “Very well.” He wrinkled his nose and set the glasses down. “Kill her.”
My gaze darted to the body lying beside me. “She’s dead already.”
Julian giggled. “The other one.”
The compulsion pressed against my skin, the urge to drain the woman dry clawing at the back of my head with a vise-like grip. I could feel her aura, faint as it was due to distance. “What do you know of the poison in that wine?” I asked, instead of acknowledging my father’s directive.
His face twisted into a smug grin. “Whatever do you mean?”
I froze. “You knew?” Another giggle. “What are you playing at? Why the fuck would you do this to me?” His spitefulness and cruelty had never known any bounds when it came to me.
My feet left the floor and my head slammed against the wood paneled wall, a painting crashing onto the carpet. “Your ire is misdirected. Oh, did it affect you? How sad. Perhaps you are too weak. Too much good in you.”
He released his hold and I landed on my knees, my eyes watching his polished shoes travel my way. He was correct, I was becoming deeply flawed. I’d never let a meal go to waste prior to tonight. The newly familiar taste of guilt rose within me, heading off course and highlighting the deceased body across the room. An image of the young mother at the club filled my mind, leaving me wondering whatever had become of her baby.
Julian knew what was going on with the wine, the wine that contained the blood and magic of the Thorne women. Kiara couldn’t have cursed it, her being too ignorant of her own sorcery for such a feat. There was no trace of her mother interfering, either. No, it had been an outside force, and I was beginning to suspect my own father.
A fist met my jaw, and I was sideways again, the fibers of the carpet scratching my cheek. Shaking myself off, I stood up. “Stop it father. Tell me what you know,” I said, doing my best to keep my voice even. He’d messed with me my whole life, and I never knew why. The only thing I could think of was I was slated to take his place, as his heir, and he didn’t want to give the position up.
“You are replaceable,” he hissed, spittle covering my face. Fury tingled across my skin as a thin red mist entered my line of vision. My jaw twitched, aching, while daggers of pain crossed my gumline. No. I couldn’t let him get to me; I wouldn’t allow him to embarrass me like this. There was no way I would fight him in my lesser form, with hundreds of knife-like teeth marring my countenance in a perverse parody of a shark. While handy on a battlefield, it was an abomination in a world where aesthetics ruled. He knew exactly what he was doing, and my pride wouldn’t bend.
I sprang to my feet, focusing on lowering my heartbeat. “Replaceable by whom? All you have is me, father.”
Julian snorted. “Prince of darkness you shall no longer be if you continue on this path.” I winced at the odd manner of speaking he sometimes resorted to. He lifted a hand toward the door Adam had exited through and I heard a feminine scream, and then a cracking sound. “I washed the dishes for you.”
A fissure of pleasure teased the base of my spine, and I opened my eyes. Julian’s lips were parted, inhaling the terror and pain that had just been liberated from the pretty girl. My own mouth opened on instinct, the flavor of a decadent dessert slipping across my tongue.
I couldn’t remember my childhood, but I did remember some of my much younger years and recalled my father bringing me to bloody scenes, cackling by my side. Scenes tinted in orange and red, pain in the air, and the irresistible urge to consume strangling my throat and piercing my brain. The compulsion had been like an innate addiction and Julian had nurtured it at every opportunity, whether I’d wanted to or not. Vaguely, I recalled sequestering myself, tiring of the destruction. I built my estate in the Fourth Realm during those clandestine moments.
“Your kingdom is falling apart. What are you doing to correct this situation?” He drained the contents of his glass. “You’re the wrong kind of good, boy. Good boy. Woof.” Julian chuckled
Lowering myself to the sofa opposite the infernal creature, I answered, “I don’t know what to do. I’m meeting with Ilya, Stefan, and some others soon to assess the situation. I suspect you were already aware of this.”
“Indeed, indeed,” he said, eyeing the cups on the sideboard. “Find another source or I will disown you. I haven’t lived this long to fail again. You wouldn’t be the first son I’ve extinguished.” My father spun on his heel, facing me again. “Your disobedience will cost you everything, including your side piece.”
“My what?”
He cocked his head at me. “For you, it's only a source. Male or female, no matter. Perhaps if you get me one, I’ll allow you a human companion.”
Fear prickled up my spine. He was threatening Samantha. “If you touch her, I will destroy you myself.”
“All she’ll ever be is a pleasant distraction, she’s not magical or a witch. Fulfill your duty and refrain from hollow threats.”
Being the Third Realm’s version of Satan, he was truly indestructible. Not even tearing his heart out or dismembering him were enough to rid the universe of the pest. The most I could hope for was to render him incapacitated, or that the Creator himself would absorb him somehow.
Julian disappeared, an orange tinge hanging in the atmosphere. The veil was thin this evening, allowing a foggy glimpse into my birthplace, the Second Realm. The barren wasteland had never truly felt like home, but I still had an affinity for the kingdom. It was the one place I was worshipped for what I was, being the favorite god amongst its citizens. Nobody liked Julian or appreciated his company, so they clung to me.
My father couldn’t see what I saw in Samantha; she had an affinity for magic. While I hadn’t tasted magic when I’d fed on her, I knew in my soul something was there. There had to be, or I wouldn’t be so drawn. He was wrong about her.
There was no evidence of Julian having had other children. No photographs, no paintings or statues, no books, or even a song. Humans assigned names to many of us, inaccurate or retired monikers with most of those gods having been extinguished thousands of years ago and newer deities having been set in their place.
Those who engaged with what was considered darker magic would occasionally conjure a demon, however they never received who they’d asked for and they were never the wiser. Fortunately, I’d never been conjured. It was unnecessary, regardless, as I was already here quite often. Not that I would answer, anyway.
With the threat of extinguishment and losing my birthright hanging over my head, I’d have to find another source of magic. A fool’s errand, as Kiara had been the recent sole wellspring. Sources were rarely born. There was no access to the higher realms, not for beings such as me, and she was unable to leave. Not that she’d ever attempt to return, in all likelihood. I couldn’t really blame her.
Ilya had attempted such a feat, a rescue mission of sorts, and was soundly reprimanded by the elevated, higher gods, the moron. While we were also gods, they never bothered with us until someone was arrogant enough to disturb their peace.
Everything had descended into chaos and ruin while Ilya and I had been in relentless pursuit of Kiara. There had to have been a connection between those events and the tainted elixir, the wine. I rose from the couch and sat at my desk and began digging through the piles of books intent on finding answers. Many humans had studied demonology and recorded the history of my kind. Of course, I possessed extensive knowledge. However, humans experienced us from differing perspectives and being present for world-changing events, they diligently noted what they saw and felt. They provided unique details in these tomes, ones that tended to be left out of polite dinner conversations. The older the book, the better. Modern tomes tended to be abysmally censored.
“Sir?” Adam darkened the doorway, and I met his gaze. “I am retiring for the night.”
The man appeared flustered. I picked up my phone, and realized the sun would rise soon if the hour was any indication. “Very well.”
He generally wasn’t present for my extracurricular activities and was likely shaken by Julian’s brutality. Adam nodded and left, closing the door snugly behind him. He rarely, if ever, spoke. The fact he just had disturbed me. He must’ve been deeply shaken by my father’s arrival.
Shortly after Adam’s dismissal, I found myself lying in bed, my mind a turbulent storm. I’d forgotten the relative peace I used to possess, the calm that surpassed any understanding. Longing for the oblivion I’d treasured, I focused on Samantha. Her grace, and her class. The way she held her head up high, a queen in her own right, blessing those who crossed her path with a kind smile. How did she maintain such empathy and elegance in such a broken world? She should have throngs of devotees supplicating at her feet, her throat dripping with rubies, her enemies' heads on gilded platters.
I would give her all this, and more. Much more. Every part of my being.
If only I could bring myself to talk to her.
Ilya was waiting in my office when I arrived. Rubbing my forehead, I walked past him without greeting and moved to sit behind my desk. I wasn’t mentally prepared—for him to have helped himself to my space, or for this meeting. After checking my emails and texts, it was clear everyone would be joining us.
“I made some notes,” the fucker mumbled. He was answered with a grunt. “Take them or leave them,” he said, dropping a file folder on top of my closed laptop.
Removing it and placing it to the side, I stood up, intent on pouring myself some alcohol.
“What’s with the roses? What happened to gardenias?” Ilya frowned at the glittering vase. “Do you have a new interest?”
He was one of the few aware that I associated women with florals, scenting and tasting the blooms when one piqued my interest. I had no explanation for the unique phenomena. “Why do you ask? Do you?”
“I don’t. I still love her. Everyone reminds me of her.” Ilya’s eyes grew red, a thin band of light circling his pupils. I winced at his sappy words.
In light of past circumstances, it did not seem wise to update the man. However, if I didn’t lay my claim, she was at risk. “There is someone,” I remarked. “If you so much as breath the same air as her, I will gift her your entrails.”
“How romantic.” Ilya glared at me. “It was only Kiara promised to me, no one else. You stole my birthright, but I’ll stay out of your way.”
I didn’t have the energy to fight with him over another woman. “Good. I seem unable to run this company without you.”
He let out a long breath. “Alexander is on his way. I don’t know where the others are.”
The office door opened, revealing Matthew. Unsure whether to ignore him or hold him with a stare, I waited a beat before I watched the angel out of the corner of my eye. Satisfied he’d behave, I poured some whiskey. We’d known of each other, but I couldn’t say if we’d ever been in the same room together at any time.
He was dressed in much the same manner as I and possessed hair approximately the same texture, from what I could tell, though the color was the direct opposite. His hair was shorn low on the sides and left long on top; the length styled back. Skeletal tattoos adorned his hands, mimicking the bone structure that lay beneath. The same style of ink was etched along the length of his neck.
Matthew’s tall figure crossed the floor, his hand outstretched. “Ramone,” he greeted me.
I nodded, feeling the chill of his aura. An icy sweet wintergreen essence permeated the ether surrounding him. His irises glittered like pearlescent icebergs, an alien faint blue tone in their depths. He was my equal. The opposite, yet the same. I bristled as I shook his hand, sensing the same reaction in him, through the cool, smooth hand I’d clasped.
Matthew was the one responsible for manipulating time and ultimately leading to Kiara’s demise. Ilya had gone to him for help. They could both suck my dick.
Alastair, Alexander, and Stefan strode in after I’d returned to my seat. I perused the file Ilya had handed me while the tension increased in the atmosphere. A room full of apex predators was perhaps not the greatest idea, but we were out of options.
“You,” Matthew snarled at Alastair. “Why did no one let me know this cockroach bloodsucker would be here?” Slowly, he stalked toward an unmoving Alastair.
“Stand down,” I snapped.
He continued to advance on my best friend, halting when they were chest-to-chest. “You have something that belongs to me.”
“I believe it is nonrefundable.” My friend chuckled, referring to an incident involving his woman being kidnapped by this blond archangel. Miraculously, when Alastair fed on the man, he’d gained a measure of angelic magic. There was no way, as far as I knew, for that to be reversed.
Arrogance crossed Matthew’s eyes. “Your wife’s pussy tasted oh so sweet.”
“Enough,” Ilya raised his voice. “I don’t want to hear about Devane’s cunt. We all have to fucking work with each other. Get your shit together.”
Stefan stood up from where he’d planted himself. Alastair now had a hand around the angel’s neck, fangs bared. “How much would it take to kill you?” The vampire’s smooth voice wrapped around the room; his power of compulsion magnified by the alien magic running through his veins.
Stefan dipped his wrist and a shiny blade slid from his sleeve. “They’re both going to die,” he said to no one.
Glancing at Ilya, I saw that he’d hung his head down, running his fingers through his long hair. I stood up and he glanced at me, looked at the devolving situation by the door, and then back at me again. A silent agreement passed between us, the two of us having known each other long enough to be able to nearly read each other’s thoughts in certain situations.
Reaching into the cabinet behind my workstation, I retrieved a bottle of the tainted wine. Fortunately, this one was more potent than the others, possibly the original out of the known containers. Ilya tossed me two syringes that I quickly filled with the mixture while the others were distracted before deftly throwing them back to him. He proceeded to move faster than the human eye could detect, leaping over a chair and simultaneously plunging the needles in both Matthew’s and Stefan’s necks.
They had never partaken of the blood wine; they’d remained unchanged.
Ready for them to turn on Ilya, I stepped out from behind my desk and raised my hands, trapping the two men against the front walls by the neck. Ilya moved back, stopping beside me and proceeded to straighten his cufflinks. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. “Level playing field, now,” he remarked.
“Mm,” I said and dropped my hands.
Matthew and Stefan glared daggers at us while my co-conspirator smirked at them. Alastair raised his eyebrows and moved toward the couch. “Glad I’m not one of you,” he muttered.
I ignored my bloodsucking friend. “It wouldn’t do for us to all work together, and have such a chasm between us,” I said. Looking Matthew and then Stefan in the eye, I stated, “that wouldn’t do at all.”
“Sit down,” I ordered, turning my shoulders to them, half expecting retribution that didn’t arrive. Leaning back in my leather chair, I reopened the folder and read quietly. Ilya had done a thorough job, naming potential issues and viable solutions, from what I could tell. Lifting my gaze to his, I said, “Well done.”
He opened a soft briefcase and pulled out more files and some thumb drives, distributing them to the men in the room.
Matthew spoke first, after letting out a deep sigh. “What you are proposing directly interferes with the life blood of my operation.” He slapped the folder against his leg. “If you are requiring me to do this, I require you to release the souls in the Second Realm.”
“This isn’t bargaining, this is compliance,” I retorted.
He shoved his hair back. “How long does it take the poison to work?”
“No one knows. I can’t remember when I began to feel a difference. Maybe eighteen months ago?”
He stood up and began pacing, halting to snatch a flower from the vase on my desk. “So, this is what I have to look forward to.” Petals were torn off the stem, fluttering to the floor one by one as he plucked them.
“Sit down, you’re driving me crazy. Fucking pacing back and forth,” Stefan mumbled the last sentence.
Ilya turned to him. “Do you feel any different?”
“No. Not yet,” Stefan replied to his best friend.
“You haven’t offered anyone a chair,” Ilya remarked, and Stefan rolled his eyes. “That’s different.”
“At this point I should be offering to cook everyone dinner, judging by the way you’ve been acting.” Stefan’s fists clenched in his lap. “Being helpful provides comfort and encourages cooperation and compliance. People feel indebted. By me not offering, that may be a bad sign.”
Stefan looked angrier than that time he almost shot me at Kiara’s father’s castle, when I’d killed half the guards. He hadn’t done a fucking thing then, and he wouldn’t now. But the man had a decent point with his truthful statement, the effects were perhaps immediate because he didn’t try to provide his typical assistance after the tense scene. He wasn’t attempting to manipulate anyone. While obviously furious with Ilya and I, he seemed resigned to his new fate.
Then, everyone’s eyes turned to Matthew.