Chapter 6
Amarah Holloway.
What’s with the odd o? I searched the name with and without it. Nothing. Not a single hit. No social feed, no record. That’s impossible; there’s always someone with every name combination out there.
I found plenty of Amarah’s, plenty of Holloway’s, but nothing together.
I drag my thumb across the paper, over the smeared blood and the faint outline of the letters she scrawled. It took me a minute to even make them out through all the red. Irritating as all Beyond. Not just because I nearly had to make her rewrite it, but because her blood smelled incredible.
I’ve met modern Witches before, but I’ve never fed on one. Not really had the chance.
Her scent… Gods, it was like a sun-soaked garden after rain—sweet fruit, sharp citrus, with something electric underneath it all. The moment she cut her finger, the air itself changed; it crawled under my skin.
I’ll definitely have to track down a Witch for me to play with when this is all done, hopefully with Lucifer to indulge with me.
I’m staring down at my cock and watching it harden at just remembering how delightful she smelled, when my phone rings. I’ve been laying here in bed naked since I got to this run-down hotel about an hour’s drive from the penitentiary, waiting for a friend to get back to me.
Answering and putting on the speaker, I rest my phone onto my bare chest. “It’s a good thing I’m a patient man.”
Atlas laughs. “I called the wrong number it seems.”
I tut. “Watch it, smart guy. How’re you?”
He hums for a long moment, as if turning the simple question over in his head.
“Pretty good. It’s been a while. When you texted, I had to check if I was dead. The Kayn Butcher, asking me for a favor after six years of silence.”
Atlas, a militia buddy, helped me with an undercover drug bust in the City of Lights, Nevadia.
He’s Mundane, but he’s got the backbone of a Demon. Jumped in front of a moving getaway van like he could stop the damn thing. Earned my respect, and a few days in the hospital.
“How about you?”
“Could be better. Had an interesting month.”
“Anything to do with what happened in Sidence? I heard the sky turned red. Lots of casualties. You weren’t stationed there, right?”
I chuckle somberly. “Yeah, I was there. But that wasn’t my work.” The painful image of the aftermath and of those two lying silent in death together, pushes me to move on. “I wanted to borrow your dark web talents. I can’t go through militia channels, and I’ll need you not to as well.”
“Oh, sounds fun. What’re we lookin’ for?”
“Who. Let me know when you’re ready to take this down.”
I hear typing and a bit of shuffling. “Ready.”
“I’m looking for any information on a Witch by the name of—”
My tongue hits the roof of my mouth, freezing mid-word.
What the fuck?
“Kayn?”
“Sorry, that’s weird. Her name is—” Pain stings as my fang pierces my tongue, copper flooding into my mouth. “Alright, what the fuck?”
“You good, man?”
I sit up, legs spread, pulling the phone off speaker. “The name is—”
This time my throat tightens, the words dying before they’re born. No matter how hard I try to say Amarah Holloway, I can’t.
“Let me send you a picture.” Groaning, I grab my phone, snap a photo of the paper, and send it to him.
“Got it, one second…”
This is so damn strange. Why can’t I say it out loud?
“You sent me a blank piece of paper, bud. But, uh… are you naked right now? Are those your thighs?”
I don’t respond. I just stare down at the clearly not blank page.
“I also see your feet. For free? How generous of you.”
“Do you know anything about Yldarwrights?”
“You made that shit up,” he chortles.
“I said the same thing…”
“They can’t have my n—” Damn it. I should’ve asked exactly why they couldn’t have her fucking name.
My patience is thinning. I’m not usually like this—not with women, and not with anyone who doesn’t deserve it. But something about her… it gets under my skin. It probably has to do with her killing all those kids.
“You gonna finish that thought, or was that it?” Atlas’s voice pulls me back. “I can’t help you without a name.”
“Right… I’ll call you tomorrow. Need to think something through.”
“Alright, man. Just let me know. Good talking to you.”
“You too.” I hang up and toss the phone toward the foot of the bed.
Opening my hand, I stare at my palm, then trace a line up my forearm to the ink lined there—a lioness with a butterfly perched on her snout, a tribal sun crowned above her head. Just this single tattoo thrusts me back to the memory of meeting him.
I’ve got to get a hobby or something. Running through a forest without chasing someone just isn’t as exciting, and honestly, I’m bored out of my mind. I never understood why Vampires rarely lived past a few hundred years, but now that I’ve hit my five-hundredth, I’m starting to see why.
Life’s boring, and that’s a problem. It’s starting to make me wonder if suicide might be in my near future.
New Hara is beautiful, though. I’ve spent the last several months exploring every inch of it on foot. This path, along the southern base of the Adeline Mountains, is quiet—no tourists in the middle of the night. It’s the best time to run, free from Mundanes taking selfies on the trail.
I’m nearing an overlook when something white catches my eye. Pushing through a few bushes, I stop at a short patch of grass and freeze. A white lioness sits there, still and regal. The scent tells me immediately she isn’t a Shifter. She’s real. Flesh and blood.
Even as quiet as I am, she notices me. Her golden eyes flick in my direction, but she doesn’t move. A butterfly rests on her snout, and somehow she’s careful not to disturb it.
She’s magnificent. I don’t want to scare her off, but curiosity wins and I whisper, “What are you doing here, beautiful girl?”
“Whatever she wants.” The male voice catches me off guard, and I whip my head toward the sound. “The question is, what are you doing out here?”
The figure can’t hide in the shadows. Not from me. He’s shorter, leaner, but solid. Broad shoulders, defined chest, compact strength. And I definitely like what I see.
“Mmm. Taking a jog, but now maybe I’ll be hunting.”
He laughs. “That would be a mistake, Vampire.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” I tuck my hands into my pockets and drag my tongue across my upper teeth. “There’d be no mistakes in what I’d do to you.”
That throws him off. His eyes widen, a flush creeping across his cheeks. The color looks good, especially under those stunning violet eyes.
“What’s your name, cutie?”
He stammers, eyebrows pinching. “I-I… What?”
“Do you have a name?” I take a step closer causing him to square his shoulders. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“He’s not worried you’re going to hurt him.” I wasn’t expecting to hear a woman’s voice. That’s unfortunate… but maybe they like to share. I wouldn’t complain.
I glance around for a third figure, but there’s no one.
“My name is Zuhara,” the voice says again. This time I look down—at the lioness. One paw forward, the other back, as she pauses her approach.
“Well… that’s different.” I glance back at the man, whose face somehow darkens to an even deeper red. It’s endearing, really. “Zuhara. Why can I hear you? I’m no animal whisperer.”
She laughs, padding closer. “I’m unique. And it seems, so are you.”
“Thanks. My dads always said I was special,” I say with a cheeky grin.
“Full of yourself, it seems,” the man mutters. His voice has an accent—thick, old, and Gods help me, beautiful.
“You can be full of me if you’d only ask.”
Zuhara’s laugh rumbles out in a deep purr. She brushes against my leg, her fur soft as silk. “I like this one.”
“Of course you do,” the man sighs. “Please don’t get attached, Zuhara.”
I reach down, running a hand through her fur. She’s huge—up to my hips at least—but gentle. Sweet, even.
“What’s your name, pretty boy?” she asks, purring louder.
“You can call me Kayn. Normally I insist new acquaintances call me Butcher, but I’ve got a feeling we’re going to be great friends.”
The man scoffs. “Doubtful, I—”
I’m in front of him before he can finish. He startles, stepping back, but I grip the back of his neck to hold him still.
He’s a few inches shorter, forced to tilt his head up. “W-What are you doing?!”
“Getting a better look at you. And I’m glad I am.”
“Bloody Beyond, you’re brazen. Do you have no filter?”
I chuckle. “Nope. Now, what’s your name?”
He strains to lean away. “Okay! Okay! Shit. It’s Lucifer.”
My smirk turns into a genuine smile, and I think it’s what causes his face to turn a deeper shade of crimson.
“It’s nice to meet you, Lucifer.”
He swallows. “You… too, Kayn.”
It’s been hundreds of years since he walked out on me.
I figured, like he warned me, that his kind doesn’t hold onto love. Eternal creatures of habit; they leave, and they don’t come back.
But for him to have been with his father, Belial… this feels different.
I believe in fate. And the fact that Xeraphine saw Lucifer in the Beyond, even for the briefest moment, tells me I’m meant to pursue him.
Again.
Maybe he did leave me. But what if he was taken from me… and I never even tried to bring him back?
Kairhyse hadn’t hesitated to find Xera, from what I understand.
Had I failed Lucifer by not doing the same?
I guess I’ll find out. I’ve made my peace with not being a good man, and a few dead bodies between me and him are justifiable in my book.
What weighs heavier on my conscience is what I’ll have to release to reach him.
I take a slow breath and fall back onto the bed. Just the thought of saying what I’m about to for some reason tickles my throat. A strange sensation tugging at the middle of my chest, like something is going to escape and rush to another…
However, I’m still compelled to do it and softly whisper, “Amarah Holloway.”