He stopped and swallowed hard, looking like he was about to throw up.
“The demon started taunting me. Leaving notes in handwriting I didn’t recognize, making videos of me doing things I couldn’t even imagine, let alone remember… I can’t live like this,” he summarized, voice hardening. “That demon’s made me a murderer, a fucking monster! I tried seeing a priest, getting an exorcism—nothing’s worked. It won’t even let me kill myself. If you understand what’s wrong with me, kill me now. You’ll save lives if you do, believe me.”
Blue eyes stared intently at Elise from under black, scraggly hair. It was hard to tell what he really looked like under the dirt and grime that said he’d been living on the streets for a while. He looked to be in his midthirties, but what might have been an athletic, attractive physique was now hunched with guilt, fear, and despair.
Killing him would be an act of mercy, Elise reflected. It wouldn’t be hard to do. Humans were so fragile; one flick of her wrist would snap his neck before he’d even realized she moved. After all, she’d killed before, and for less noble reasons than this.
She’d almost decided to do it when Mencheres’s face flashed in her mind. Was she becoming one of those vampires who forgot what it was like to be human? How precious those years were because they were so short?
“What’s your name?” she asked, rising.
The hope on his face as she approached was heart-wrenching. “Blake Turner. Will you… will you leave my body where it can be found? I still have family who might want to know what happened to me…”
“Blake Turner,” Elise said slowly. “I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to help you.”
Chapter Three
Blake looked around the tunnel. “I’m not sure about this.”
“I need help to figure out whether you’re salvageable or not,” was Elise’s curt response, as they continued down the passageway. “Keeping you cooped up in my house isn’t a workable solution.”
“Can’t you just call someone?” Blake asked, thinking house was a generous word to describe the place where she lived. Oversized coffin would be more appropriate, since it was tiny, underground, pitch-black aside from some sparse lighting, and lacked any kitchen, toilet, shower, or other amenities.
Still, it was a perfect place to keep Blake locked up and away from people, which was why leaving it didn’t appeal to him. Who knew he’d be unable to convince a vampire to kill him? So much for the bloodthirstiness of their legend. Blake also couldn’t understand why the demon hadn’t taken over yet. Every other time Blake attempted to kill himself, the demon showed up and stopped him. Could it sense that the vampire wouldn’t kill him? Was that why the demon was biding its time?
Or was it waiting for a better opportunity to appear? Like now, as they were heading toward the metro station and all the innocent people inside.
“This isn’t safe,” Blake repeated for the dozenth time.
She kept walking, her grip on his hand like a cool vise. “My sire will know what to do. I’ll use the pay phone at the station to call him. It’s safer if you come with me than to hope you’ll still be at my house when I get back.”
“He’s strong when he takes over,” Blake said, almost spitting the words out. He hated what he’d been turned into—a host for the worst kind of evil. If death was the only way to stop the demon, Blake would gladly die. His life had been ruined beyond repair anyway.
Just seven months ago, he’d been a successful stockbroker. He’d had a beautiful house, great friends, and was even on good terms with his ex-wife. Now he’d lost everything, was wanted for multiple murders, and the only way for him to stop the demon was to kill himself. It was a far, far cry from the days where his biggest concern had been the fluctuating market on Wall Street.
“I’m stronger,” Elise said.
Blake looked her over with doubt. Elise was about five-four, and if she topped a hundred pounds, it wasn’t by much. Furthermore, she had an ethereal quality to her small-boned frame that hinted at fragility. Combined with her beautiful, pale face, Elise reminded Blake of one of those antique dolls his ex-wife used to collect. Elise was the type of woman men tripped over themselves to protect, not the type who could outwrestle a demon. Fangs could only reach so far, after all.
“You said you’ve never encountered a demon before. How do you know you’re stronger?”
Elise shot him a sideways glance. “You talk so much,” she muttered. “It’s tiring. Can you stop for a while?”
Blake bit back an amazed snort. This was the woman who was supposed to stop the demon when it showed up? Some one who couldn’t even carry on a brief conversation without getting tired?