The Devil's Angel (Devil Series Book 2) (24 page)

“A month?” Lucien moaned. “Let’s go rent a room.”

“You go on. I’m going to stay.” Aiden looked wistfully back toward the city and his rats.

“Stay here? What for?”

“There’s going to be a lot of deaths, and I don’t want to miss a single one.” Aiden darted away before Lucien could stop him.

London reported strange deaths within days. Because the poor of the city were affected first, no one paid any attention until the weather turned warm. Then the disease spread at an alarming rate, and just as Aiden had predicted, anyone able fled.

The smell of blood in the air had become a part of the city, giving it new life that only a vampire could appreciate. Lucien restrained himself for as long as possible before seeking out Aiden, but he could wait no longer.

Night had fallen on London like a shroud covering the dead. The air was unnaturally warm. Sticky, heavy moisture clung to Lucien, weighing him down. He followed the coppery smell of blood through the dirty streets. As he drew closer to the inner city, the smell changed to something more pungent. The reek was vile and foul. Death smelled like roses compared to the horror he now inhaled.

Unaware and without warning, Lucien found himself in hell. Human bodies lay in piles on the street. Open wounds littered their blackened corpses, many of which were still oozing. A man dressed in a long black cloak, face covered, loaded bodies into a wheelbarrow. He pushed them to the town square where he joined another man dressed in the same manner. Together they tossed the mangled corpses into a roaring fire.

“This area isn’t safe, Sir. Go back,” one of them said as Lucien passed by.

More than the vile smells and the hellish bodies, it was the soul-wrenching cries of torment and misery that made his stomach turn. These were the songs of the dead, and the painful cries and tortured screams was the unrelenting chorus.

Lucien tracked Aiden to a small, simple home with one window where a candle burned low inside. After watching a particularly fat rat burrow its way into the thatched roof above the front door, he stepped inside.

“Hello, brother,” Aiden said without glancing over.

He was sitting on the edge of a bed in the corner of the darkened one-room house. Across from him, leaning against a plastered wall, were ten dead bodies with blood spilling from many of their open mouths. At least Lucien thought they were dead … until one of them, a girl, moved her finger. Lucien listened closer and realized they were just barely alive. Their hearts beat as slow as their shallow breaths.

“What are you doing?” Lucien cried, appalled.

“Watching death. It’s quite fascinating, really.” Aiden’s eyes remained focused on the humans across from him.

“You’re a vampire, Aiden. Why not kill them and move on? There’s enough dying in London to feed for months!”

Aiden didn’t answer. Instead, he sprang to his feet and rushed one of the dying men whose head had slumped over. Aiden grabbed him by the hair and lifted his head. “Look at me!”

The man’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. He was dead.

“They’re useless!” Aiden said. “Every last one of them.”

Effortlessly, he tossed the body to the other side of the room and on top of the bed, which collapsed. Several of the others, who still had a little life left, cowered in fear.

“Aiden,” Lucien said, his voice calm, “Do you remember that greyhound we had when we were little? The only dog dad didn’t deliberately kill?”

Aiden wasn’t listening.

“Great, the dead guy broke my bed,” he grumbled.

Lucien continued, “You remember the dog, don’t you? It could find a fox from miles away?”

“Yeah, gray dog. I remember.” Aiden drug a straw mattress away from the wall.

“Remember how he used to chase all the cats and mice? And when he’d finally catch them, he’d shake them to death?”

Aiden grinned, finally listening. “That was marvelous!”

“Do you remember what happened to him after father trampled him with his horse?”

Aiden didn’t have an answer.

“He didn’t do
anything
. He just laid under that big tree in front of our house for days. A cat could be right in front of his nose, and he wouldn’t budge. Something went screwy with his head.”

“What’s your point, Lucien?”

“Have you been trampled by any horses lately?”

Aiden snorted. “You think I’ve gone mad?”

“The thought did cross my mind,” Lucien mused, looking over at the wretched humans.

“So this is how you repay me for the grandest feast I could ever give you? Call me crazy?”

“Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate what you’ve done here, but don’t you think your fascination with death has gone too far? Look at them! Just kill them and be done with it.”

Aiden stepped in front of Lucien. “You’re just like father, impatient and brainless.”

Lucien’s eyes bulged, and his hand shot to Aiden’s neck. “Don’t ever compare me to father.”

Adrian’s hands clawed at Lucien’s.

“You’re right, it would be an insult to compare father to you,” he choked.

Lucien dropped his hand from Aiden’s neck, and walked over to one of the almost dead humans.

“What are you doing?” Aiden asked.

Lucien grabbed the head of an old man, who didn’t resist, and twisted hard—a loud crack filled the small room. He turned to a fragile looking woman. She looked up at him hopefully.

“Don’t do it, brother,” Aiden warned.

Lucien snapped her neck. The woman’s head lobbed forward.

Aiden screamed a high-pitched wail and fell to his knees.

Before his cry ended, Lucien snapped the necks of three others. Aiden rushed him, but Lucien shoved him back. Two more necks cracked. Lucien didn’t bother with the remaining two. They were already dead.

“What have you done?” Aiden wailed. He grabbed two of the nearest bodies and cradled them to his chest.

Without another word, Lucien left his brother alone to grieve the loss of his precious pets.

Lucien wandered the plague-infested streets for weeks, killing and drinking the blood of whoever crossed his path. He hadn’t once thought about Aiden, but the confrontation had filled him with an uncontrollable rage. He fed sometimes three times a day, eager to take his anger out on the weak. Those he killed welcomed him with open arms. It was as if they recognized him as the bearer of death, and he served them willingly.

Lucien knew the consequences of drinking too much blood, but he didn’t stop. He wanted to feel the rumored euphoric feeling that was similar to being drunk. He thought it was a myth until this very moment.

He released his grip on the neck of a particularly young girl and gasped for air. He stumbled back and, unable to keep his balance, fell to the ground. The girl he was holding collapsed on top of his legs, and blood poured from the open wound in her neck. It spread across the dirt floor, forming a crimson lake.

Lucien’s vision blurred, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the blood, which began to change shape. Instead of having smooth edges, the puddle became jagged and bubbled. The bubbles popped, but when they popped, they kept their open, broken shape.

The blood continued to boil until it had raised itself off of the ground. Two long appendages burst from the thickening mass, forming sharp claws at the end. It crawled toward Lucien who shrieked in horror.

He kicked the girl off him and scrambled back toward the open door. The red claws followed, taking each step slowly, as if it recognized his inebriated condition. When Lucien had scooted past the doorjamb, and just as the claw was about to seize him, he slammed the door tight.

It took several minutes before he could finally stand. The world around him spun, and he could barely keep his eyes open. He staggered through the streets, knocking over anything that stood in his way. A thick mist lay before him in every direction; it was cold and full of moisture. He wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the mind or reality.

Footsteps echoed behind him. He turned his head in all directions but saw no one. He moved faster, using his hands, one over another, against the buildings for support.

Something growled deep and low. The snarl grew louder, but Lucien was blind to the monster. The roaring and gnashing of teeth became so tumultuous that he covered his ears. He slumped down in a corner and stared out in horror at the imaginary beasts that played with his mind. Every once in a while, his body jerked.

His life, up until that point, flashed before his eyes, but instead of people, demons played the roles of those he once knew and loved. He ran away from them all down a narrow hall of dark stone, water dripping from the cold rock. Behind him, the black demons pursued.

He stopped only when he came face to face with the devil—tall and dark, evil literally dripping from his eyes and mouth in black, oozing rivers. The demons behind Lucien screamed wildly. They were almost upon him.

Seeing no other way out, he rushed the devil. On impact, glass sprayed everywhere as he crashed into a mirror. The demons weren’t pursuing him. They were rushing to greet him as their master.

For days, Lucien lay in the dirty street as one of the dead, rats picking at his skin. He tried to swat them away, but his mind was muddled and out of focus. He stared at the clouds above and could tell by their dark edges that a storm was approaching. This comforted him, and his mind settled into a peaceful bliss. His body rocked as if he was on a boat, riding the tranquil sea.

All of a sudden, someone jerked him into an upright position, ruining his serene moment.

“Are you one of them?” someone shouted in his face.

Lucien tried to focus. In front of him, a vampire with shoulder length brown hair gripped his shoulders tightly. Even though Lucien was inebriated, he could sense the ancient power of the vampire. He mumbled something incoherent.

“Are you one of the brothers who created this mess?” the vampire demanded.

Lucien tried to speak, but all that came out was, “For you.”

The vampire dropped him, disgusted. “You did this for us? For vampires? You’ve killed thousands of humans so we could devour hundreds? You idiot! Don’t you know you owe your life to humans? Without them we are nothing!”

Lucien struggled to get up, but slumped back over.

The older vampire hissed, “You are evil—pure, untainted evil. I’d kill you now if I thought hell would take you.” He shook his head. “I expected more from you. You’re a disgrace to your family. What you’ve done here will haunt you forever. You are nothing, Lucien. Nothing!”

The vampire’s words were forever engrained on Lucien’s soul—if he had one.

“Lucien.”

Lucien’s eyes fluttered open. A foggy image of a woman stood over him.

“Lucien?”

He couldn’t respond. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and closed again. He couldn’t remember where he was and didn’t know why he couldn’t move. The woman’s voice sounded as if she were a million miles away. She was speaking urgently to someone, but he couldn’t make sense of the words. Something had happened, something bad, but he couldn’t grasp it. A storm raged in his mind, and he searched desperately for something to ground him.

“Lucien,” a soft voice whispered again.

A gentle touch caressed his cheek. The motion slowed the violent, flashing images until he was able to make more sense of them. The pain they brought were excruciating. Blistered, bloody humans with empty eye sockets reached for him, pleading for death. At their feet, ravenous rats scurried about, eating the rotten flesh that fell from their weak frames. More than the grotesque scenes were tortured wails of pain and agony, echoing in his mind. Adding to the macabre music of death was the voice of the powerful vampire, repeating the words, “You are nothing.” Like a constant beating drum, the words pounded, slithering and twisting around him, until it was all he knew.

Someone touched his hand. The grip was tight and wouldn’t let go.

“Lucien.” The word was on his lips. The breath from his name filled his lungs, pushing away the gruesome images.

“Please wake up.”

The graphic visions faded but memories remained. He remembered it all: the thousands upon thousands of dead humans killed at his and Aiden’s hands, their blood that chased him through the streets, and finally the vampire whose words defined Lucien forever.

His thoughts lingered on Aiden, his older brother whom he’d adored when they were children. He would have done anything for Aiden, but Aiden had been jealous of their father’s attention toward him and, as a result, treated Lucien unfairly. After Aiden had been turned into a vampire, he didn’t waste any time changing Lucien as well.

Before Lucien could have a say in the matter, Aiden had exposed Lucien’s monstrous secret to their father while hiding his own identity. Their father had been so angered and disgusted that he’d enlisted the help of the entire town to hunt down and kill Lucien.

Aiden had been thrilled. He had destroyed any feelings his father may have had for Lucien and at the same time had turned Lucien into the complete opposite of what Aiden considered to be a perfect child.

Lucien tried not to become the monster Aiden had made him out to be. He had attempted to fight the blood lust and the desire for dark power, but he’d been alone in his endeavors.

After days of hunting for Lucien, their father had cornered him into an old ruined castle. Lucien did not run. He’d hoped to make his father understand that he wasn’t evil, but his hope had been in vain. A great fight ensued. Throughout the entire struggle, he’d been aware of Aiden who watched from above in a stone tower, barely able to contain his glee.

Lucien had tried not to hurt his father. He’d dodged his many blows until, at last, his father had grown weak and tired. He tripped on a rock and fell directly below him. Lucien stood over him with a pitchfork in striking position. When terror flashed in his father’s eyes, Lucien hesitated.

From up above, Aiden called, “Kill him!”

Lucien shook his head. He moved to place the pitchfork on the ground, but at that very moment, his father took advantage of his distraction and jabbed a hidden stake in the direction of Lucien’s heart.