Mammon allowed a self-satisfied smile before growling, “Were you my minion, I’d rip your head from your body without a further second’s thought.”
The hubrin demon’s eyes went wild, and he struggled against Mammon’s grip.
Yes, there was no doubt it. He’d delight in snuffing the life from this particular creature’s body.
However, since Thorne wasn’t his servant, and since he knew Belpheg had some plan in store for him, he chose the wiser path and simply flung the hubrin demon away. Thorne’s back connected against the opposite wall with a thud, and he slid to the ground.
Mammon turned his back, dismissing Thorne without further thought. The man wasn’t worthy of even one more second of his attention.
Feeling marginally better after his run-in with Belpheg’s minion, he continued down the long, winding corridor that led to the rear of the castle. He rounded the final bend…and came to a screeching halt.
The vampire was there, standing by the entrance to the kitchens, and he wasn’t alone. One of the castle’s servants, a young woman who couldn’t be more than a few decades old, was ensnared in his grasp. The woman hung limply from the vampire’s grip while Rage ravenously feasted on her neck.
Mammon took a careful step back, unease oozing from his pores. The urge to leave was overwhelming, yet he couldn’t help but watch in sick fascination as the vampire drained the woman’s blood. His gut gave a weak twist.
What had Belpheg been thinking in recruiting that abomination?
Oh, he’d known of the vampire’s existence, of course. Rage had been one of Mammon’s earlier experiments. After he’d impregnated the female—a pure-bred vampire—he’d kept tabs on her throughout her pregnancy and had observed the infant. But something about him had been beyond unnerving. His eyes had been so cold, so watchful, even as a baby. Instinctively Mammon had known the child would be a loose cannon. Far too difficult to control.
Mammon had discounted the species as too volatile and abandoned the test subject, with no particular expectation that the infant would even live past a year. His mother had been insane, had hated the child and everything he represented.
He should not be here.
The vampire seemed to sense his presence, because suddenly his eyes fluttered open, and his gaze locked with Mammon’s. He stiffened, then pulled away to give Mammon a savage, blood-filled grin. Carelessly dropping the body of the servant to the ground, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I would have saved some for you if I’d known you were coming.”
A wholly unexpected glimmer of apprehension wound through Mammon’s body. He’d come to fear very little in his many years of life, but the vampire…
Rage was clearly unstable. Twisted. And unless Mammon was mistaken, there was a fair bit of hostility emanating from the man. In the time he’d been here, he hadn’t approached Mammon, hadn’t said more than a couple words to him…not that Mammon had made any effort on his part, either. But still, why agree to work for Belpheg, why all the trouble to reunite with him, if he couldn’t even be bothered to engage him in conversation?
Most definitely twisted.
Before he could think further on it, he gave in to his instinct and turned on his heel, heading back to the center of the castle.
The vampire’s silky laugh followed him like a schoolboy’s taunt. He gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to turn back around and confront the creature. Demons were never stronger than their fathers, but something about Rage made him question that fact.
“Damn you, Belpheg,” he muttered under his breath. The dark fae had clearly taken the vampire in to unnerve him…and much as it rankled, he had to admit it was working. But why? What purpose did catching Mammon off his guard serve for Belpheg?
The dark fae might be just as twisted, just as unstable, as Mammon’s abandoned half vampire progeny.
Chapter Fourteen
Lina couldn’t move. Her limbs felt like someone had been trying to hack them off in her sleep, and her skull ached as if some sadistic bastard had taken a hammer to it.
“Oh gods,” she groaned.
What sort of trouble had she gotten herself into last night? Sure, being a mercenary came with its fair share of ass-kicking, both on the giving and receiving end, but she couldn’t remember ever feeling quite like this.
She tried to open her eyes, and the queasiness set in. That was when she remembered that, oh yeah, this feeling was far too familiar. It had just been a few years since she’d last felt it.
Rolling onto her side, she clutched her head and let out another groan.
“Sorry, babe,” Thorne’s voice sounded out, self-assured and smug. “I’ll bet it’s one hell of a come-down.”