59. Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Empusa The Devourer
The first time I see him, he’s standing on a blood soaked field with smoke curling around him like a crown.
Beau doesn’t notice me. Of course he doesn’t.
He’s too busy fighting with that stubborn mortal fire he carries in his chest, fighting a war that doesn’t fucking matter.
It flickers with every fire of his weapon, every shout toward the collapsing line.
I watch him for a week before I even learn his name, not that I truly care about whatever name he was given. In that same week, I finally strike to weasel my way into another body. This girl’s name is Kalevala.
“Hey. I have some information about Beau Drewitt you might like to hear. Oh, and a way to get you back home. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
“I’m listening.”
“Meet me over there.” I gesture to a far away spot where the woods start to take hold. “I think I found a way to get him to finally notice you and piece you and your family back together. There is no losing here!”
By the time she made it to our meeting spot, I had plenty of time to enchant several soldiers to do as I say. I shrouded miles of the woods in case my game became more violent. The soldiers obeyed and Kalevala was quickly subdued.
Thank god she came around fast from her transition.
I’ve never been the betting type. I desperately needed a vessel to shove myself into.
She’s young. Her body is in shape. She’s in good health and was naive enough to let me lure her in the first place.
She genuinely thought I would be able to pull her away from this madness.
Whisk her away from war and charter her back home to her family up North?
Pathetic. Even worse that Beau would ever give her the time of day. Please.
By the end of the day, I’ve taken over Kalevala’s body and am already on track to get my plan into motion.
I knew the second I laid eyes on Beau Drewitt that I wanted him.
Needed him. Had to have him. Sweet, poor Kalevala is just giving me a way to stay Earth-side a little more permanently.
She’s too weak to front in this host body, at least for another one hundred years.
Beau stands against the masses in front of me. He never looks my way. Never notices my face. Kalevala was the perfect choice. A face that refuses to be remembered. Men like him never understand what’s circling them until it’s far too late.
He reminds me of one of Hecate’s older creations.
A beautiful demon who burned too brightly and too recklessly for his own good.
I wonder if Hecate would laugh at the comparison or if she’d rip my tongue out for it.
I keep my distance and study Beau from behind tents, trees, and drifting fog.
It's almost amusing how easily he pulls my attention. How quickly he makes the others fade.
Then, sickness falls. It strikes in the middle of the field.
One moment he’s shouting orders and the next he’s swaying, clutching his ribs as if something sharp blooms beneath his skin.
When he drops to his knees, the soldiers rush him, calling his name with frantic, whining voices.
The word spreads through camp like rotten air.
They move him to a cot to be monitored. I follow soon after and slip into the shadows of the medical tents. The air smells of sweat, panic, and dying flesh. And him. Always him. His scent covers me like a blanket.
I hear the whispers long before they reach Beau’s row.
Matteo, the man who ends the misery of soldiers too far gone for help.
He’s supposed to be mortal, a mercy worker, someone who believes in easing suffering.
He came to help. I don’t buy it. That’s too easy.
Except, he’s not mortal at all. He’s a vampire with a curious loyalty to this camp.
I watch him quietly for two nights, waiting for a tell, a slip, a hunger he can’t contain.
Nothing, only devotion. Only that strange reluctance to leave anyone behind.
I can’t understand it until I learn her name. Itanya.
She glows around the edges when she walks.
Lovely and unaware of the creature who watches her like a starving wolf.
Matteo’s reason for staying is annoyingly sweet.
A little tragic and far too useful to ignore.
I whisper my way into her ear after Beau spends a night shivering with fever that threatens to break him.
Itanya is soft minded, the perfect vessel to manipulate.
I lace my voice with old magic, the kind Hecate once warned me not to use unless I was ready to own the consequences.
I lean close and speak gently, “Keep him safe. Whatever it takes. Even if your beloved must give him a little bite. He must persist.” She nods, glassy eyed and obedient.
My sweet puppet. My little shield for Beau.
And as she walks off to tend to him, I smile.
He’ll live. He doesn’t know it yet, but I’ve chosen him.
And once I choose something, I’ll be damned if I let go.