Page 35 of The Vampire's Lament
He sniffed the air, his nose nothing more than a swollen scab with two pinpricks for nostrils. “I can smell it. The blood, the semen. Your lust.”
I bristled with fury, my hand tightening round the blade’s handle.
“What would Pearl think of this?”
Her name coming from that vile mouth again was enough to break me. I launched myself at him in a storm of sorrow and fury, driving the blade into his guts.
I felt it tear through flesh, black blood oozing over my hand like tar. A burp of toxic death wafted in my face as I twisted the weapon, waiting for the cry of pain, the realization that he’d met his end.
But he didn’t go down. He stayed upright, looking at me as if I were a clown.
In this moment, maybe I was.
“You should be dead,” I said, twisting the blade some more.
“Should I?”
He went to grab me, but I jumped back, leaving the blade inside him.
The fucker glanced down at it. “What a curious instrument.”
My heart was set to pound its way out of my ribcage. I scrambled to figure out my next move.
Why wasn’t he dead? Black blood continued to ooze from his wound, a fresh batch of maggots tumbling out in thick clumps. I’d fucked his belly up good, so where was the ending?
“I wonder what would happen if I stuck this into you,” he said.
An idea pinged in my head, one that might kill me. I could leap out of the window on my right, tear down the hill, and swan dive into the ocean. Fuck it. I’d rather take my chances against the cold water and riptide than help this guy convalesce.
Aidan. My Aidan. Gone forever. A liar, a rotting corpse.
A fucking monster.
The deity laughed, touching the blade’s handle. It vanished in a burst of silver smoke, reappearing in my hand.
His smugness collapsed, his eyes narrowing into angry slits. “I see.” He grabbed under his right arm, pulling it off his shoulder at the joint. Black blood and maggots fell free while he twirled it, brandishing it like a sword.
What. The. Hell.
My jaw practically hit the floor while his smirking returned. “The best thing about this body is its usefulness to beat you to a pulp with.”
The fingers on the hand curled inward, forming a fist.
“I don’t need to kill you to get what I want,” he added, then rushed me.
I spun out of his trajectory, making for the window.
“Paris!”
I launched my body at the glass, arms up, eyes closed.
My body slammed into the window as if it were concrete. My bones screamed in shock, my left wrist twisting with a crack.
“Fuck!”
I hit the floor, bouncing like a rag doll, the back of my head smacking the floor. I bit my tongue, blood filling my mouth.
Damn!
