Forsaken Hunger Page 3

  Maybe then Saden could get his much needed rest.

  He turned right at the end of the passageway and came to a long corridor. The change in scenery was abrupt and significant. Thick obsidian took the place of rough stone walls and creamy, gold-veined marble lined the floor instead of hard-packed dirt. Since this realm lacked natural energy resources to create electricity, fire was the only source of heat and light. Every other sconce affixed to the walls held a lit torch that flickered as he passed by.

  A single, bald warder stood guard outside of the only door at the corridor’s end. Laurs hadn’t gone mad like most waders. He was one of the Drakons who truly relished murder and mutilation, which he’d proven his first and last day out on the field. It made him one of Serrakus’ favorites.

  “Saden,” Laurs drawled. “It’s been a while since our last session, but don’t worry. Serrakus promised you to me the next time you screw up.”

  Saden tensed at the memory of Laurs’ whip tearing the skin from his back. Six months wasn’t all that long ago when you were on the receiving end. “Just open the door.”

  Laurs chuckled softly and stepped aside to let him into Serrakus’ office.

  The opulence was almost overwhelming in the massive room. Furniture from several different eras created the look of a warehouse showroom. Art ranging from simple trinkets to Egyptian and Greek statues of the male and female anatomy littered the floor and walls.

  There was no rhyme or reason to their placement. They were all merely a reflection of Serrakus’ gaudy tastes. Tapestries and paintings brightened the obsidian walls while multiple, hand-woven rugs softened the marble flooring underneath.

  All of it was an accumulation of the things Serrakus had acquired from the human realm during his vacations. There was more, much more in the Drakonem’s bedchambers, but Saden forced that thought from his mind. The past had no place in this time.

  To the left in front of a large, red brick fireplace were two warders. From the chainmail on their outfits and weapons strapped to their sides, Saden assumed them to be trainers. Those in charge of teaching new Drakons how to fight and kill. A woman knelt slouched between them dressed only in rags. A trainee who had fallen behind, no doubt.

  Serrakus didn’t acknowledge Saden’s presence in the slightest. Instead, he took a long swig of Scotch from a glass on a nearby end table. He towered above everyone in the room at over seven feet tall, as was typical for his kind. In the nearly six decades since Saden had met him, he hadn’t changed at all. His wardrobe still consisted of only the finest silk suits, currently Armani, and his short brown hair was trimmed to precision. No matter the circumstance, he carried himself with the kind of regal authority that shot past narcissism and went straight to egocentric psychopath.

  The Drakonem set down his glass then walked back to the trainee with arrogant contempt shining from his pale, silver eyes. “Perhaps I haven’t made myself clear. What made you think you could defy my trainers and enter the human realm on your own?”

  The woman raised her dirt-smudged face to glare at the men flanking her. “I’ve been training for three months now. I’m ready for an assignment. I told them to tell you but they refused.” She shrugged a dismissive shoulder. “I had to take matters into my own hands.”

  Ahead of her game, then. Saden understood her impatience. A Drakon’s official sentence didn’t start until their Drakonem deemed them worthy to go out into the field on assignment. Time spent for punishments, recovering from wounds or further training didn’t count toward their term either. It was why one year could so easily turn into five, ten or more. Little facts the historians of each race kept to themselves.

  “Eager,” Serrakus commented.

  The woman took that as a compliment and smiled up at him.

  Rookie mistake.

  Serrakus laid a hand on her head almost compassionately. “Unfortunately, eagerness does not win my favor.”

  There was no warning to his intent. The trainee jerked spasmodically at the electric current Serrakus delivered from his palm. Her muscles bulged beneath dirty skin and face contorted in a rictus of pain. When the voltage increased, her hands constricted into claws and eyelids peeled back.

  Saden looked away, sickened by the low hum emanating from Serrakus. He’d felt the touch of the Drakonem’s power on countless occasions and had no desire to watch another endure it.

  When Serrakus lifted his hand, the woman slumped forward, barely catching herself from falling face first on the floor. “I’m sorry,” she rasped. “I’m sorry. I won’t—”

  “Do it again?” the Drakonem finished for her. “Oh, I know.” He jolted her again with what sounded like a stronger current. This one lasted longer as well. When it was finally done, the trainee collapsed in an awkward heap. “Take her to the bowels and leave her there for a few months.”

  The trainers picked her up by the arms and dragged her out of the room. She would spend the next two months locked in a windowless cell the size of a large dog cage. A fairly light punishment considering her offense. Serrakus must be in a good mood.

  He refilled his glass from a crystal decanter then moved to lean back on a mahogany inlaid desk at the far end of the room. “I felt the death of your last target earlier. I trust it was a clean kill?”

  Saden kept his expression neutral as he walked closer. He didn’t want to volunteer any information Serrakus wasn’t already aware of. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

  When Serrakus only nodded and took a sip of his liquor, Saden relaxed his shoulders. This meeting was about another job and not Daneya after all. His sense of relief was short-lived, however.

  Crouched against the right wall was the slim figure of a young man. Shackles chained his wrists and ankles together and long, dark hair hid his face like a curtain. He had the caramel tinted skin of a Dresidien, bare except for a thin pair of tan pants.

  The target Blade had spoken of. Saden was sure of it.

  Serrakus’ eyes lit up as he followed Saden’s gaze to the phantom. “You haven’t seen my latest toy, have you?” He strode over and bent to slide his fingers through the phantom’s blue-black locks.

  When the phantom shied away, Serrakus wrenched at his hair, forcing his head back. Alarm and hatred warred on the phantom’s angular face. The tribal tattoos that bloomed on the skin’s surface of every Dresidien with the passing of age were made visible. Saden counted four speared rings across the base of the neck. The bottom most ring was very faint, meaning he hadn’t quite reached his four decade mark.

  Dresidiens didn’t fully mature until their fortieth year. That put this one barely on the cusp of becoming a man. Still a mere teenager.

  Serrakus regarded Saden with a gleeful expression. “Remarkable, isn’t he? Almost as pretty as you were when you came to me.”

  Bile threatened to rise in Saden’s throat. He knew exactly what kind of ‘toy’ Serrakus intended to make the phantom. All the Drakonem took advantage of their prisoners. Three hundred and fifty-seven days out of the year was a long time to wait for only one week of sexual debauchery in the human realm. A shortage of willing partners was never a problem either. Many Drakons would jump at the chance to please their masters if it bought them a release from punishment or a shorter sentence.

  Serrakus, however, didn’t care if his victims were willing or unwilling, male or female. He took without mercy and threw the leftovers to his warders.

  It took all that Saden had to keep from attacking Serrakus right there. Not that he could’ve hoped to inflict damage. A Drakonem’s skin was leathery and nearly impossible to penetrate.

  The phantom lurched to the side in an attempt to break free. That brought a snarl from Serrakus who smacked him hard with the back of his other hand. “He’ll learn his position soon enough. Just like you did.” Serrakus went back to his desk and shuffled through some of the files there. “I have a new assignment for you. It was reported to me that a Vampyre was seen disposing of a dead female body. A human female. You might reco
gnize the alleged perpetrator. Gabriel Aikins.”

  Saden snapped his attention back to Serrakus. “What?”

  Serrakus grinned thinly. “So you do remember. It’s good to see the love of family still holds, even though you’ve lost your soul.”

  Again, the urge to strike the Drakonem was nearly overwhelming. Serrakus knew exactly who Gabriel was to Saden. A liar. A traitor. And the reason Saden had become a Drakon. Saden clenched his fists as fury drummed through him.

  Serrakus opened one of the files and glanced at it briefly. “One of my Drakons saw him placing the body in a dumpster for the police to find. So far, the police have no leads on the crime.”

  “How long have you known about this?” Saden growled.

  The Drakonem continued without pause. “I’ve recently contacted the Rei’jin of the house of Avram. The Lady Ilsa has denied the accusations presented against Gabriel. They claim he has an alibi for the night in question. Apparently, he was in his lab doing research until the following morning. I’m inclined to have it checked out for myself, though.” He licked his lips and narrowed his eyes. “I thought you might want first dibs on this, seeing as how you and your uncle are so close.”

  Saden bit back the urge to disclaim Gabriel as family. There was something else going on. It wasn’t like Serrakus to tip off the authorities of any race the accused belonged to before sending out a Drakon to investigate. As the ruling superior of her Vampyre house, the Rei’jin would have notified the accused if she thought him innocent, giving Gabriel the chance to hide any evidence that might incriminate him.

  Serrakus also didn’t make a habit of letting his Drakons choose their assignments.

  Whatever Serrakus was hiding couldn’t be good. For Saden, at least.

  “Where is Gabriel now?”

  “He hasn’t gone anywhere since the issue was brought to me. I’m sure you remember where he’s located in the human realm. I want him brought to me alive in no more than two weeks along with enough evidence to sentence him for murder.” He dropped the file and approached Saden until only a few feet separated them. “Can you handle this, or would you prefer to cower here while I send someone else?”

  Saden ignored the taunting derision in Serrakus’ tone.

  Was that his hook? Bait the Drakon with a target too tempting to resist? If Saden killed Gabriel—and nothing on earth would give him greater pleasure—Serrakus could postpone his death indefinitely. Worst case scenario, he could be made a warder and serve the rest of his sentence trapped in this realm.

  No. He couldn’t risk that. But damned if he was going to pass up the opportunity to bring Gabriel down.

  “I’ll take care of it.” He fought the impulse to recoil as Serrakus laid an open palm on his chest. Heat flared over his skin as the transfer was made. With the additional infusion of the Drakonem’s power, Saden would be able to track Gabriel as a target and sense him no matter where he was.

  Saden cast one last glance at the phantom staring at them. The kid’s black eyes seemed to beg him for help.

  He wanted to. Gods, how he wanted to rip the kid from Serrakus’ control and return him to his tribe. There was nothing he could do, though. Any attempt to help might make his situation worse.

  With a grim set, he turned and left, anxious to get out of this realm.

  * * * *

  “Are you sure you’re okay? We can stay the night if you want.”

  Daneya sucked in a breath for patience. Erin meant well, she knew this, and honestly couldn’t blame her friend for worrying. She must have looked like a train wreck when she’d met back with the rest of her team. Adrenaline was still pumping through her veins and her hands wouldn’t stop trembling. All she wanted to do was lock herself inside her home and find out as much as she could on Drakons.

  For the fifth time, Daneya tried to muster all the confidence she could bear. “I’m fine, really. I’ll call you in the morning.”

  Erin didn’t even pretend to be fooled. “Uh-uh,” she said, shaking her head. “We’re staying here until you tell us what happened to you tonight. Floyd, get our stuff.”

  Daneya slapped a staying hand on Floyd’s arm when he reached for their backpacks. “What if I promise to call Vincent?”

  Floyd looked to his wife questioningly. Erin pursed her lips then nodded once. “Okay, but you’re spilling all in the morning.”

  After hugging her friend, Daneya grabbed her own backpack and climbed out of the van. She watched her team leave then ran into her house and locked the door behind her. One minute later, a stream of whiskey splashed into her stomach, bypassing mouth completely. She took another shot for extra measure then filled a tall glass.

  It was going to be a long night.

  The thought of carrying through with her promise to call Vincent came and went just as quickly. He was the director of their DCM unit and deserved to know more than anyone what had happened. She should call him. She would call him. Just not tonight. There were too many questions that needed answers and Vincent’s presence always seemed to…complicate things.

  Quietly, she took the stairs to the second floor and crept into the first bedroom on the right. The hallway light left on for her created deep shadows inside. As she came to the bed on the other side, a sense of peace calmed her nerves.

  Curled up under the down comforter was four feet of slumbering innocence. Her daughter looked so much younger than her nine years in her sleep. Auburn tresses spilled across her pillow and framed her sweet face.

  This, right here, was always the best part of Daneya’s day. Coming home to the one person who made up her entire world. The one she had sacrificed everything for. Looking back, she knew she would do it all over again if given a choice. It didn’t matter where Mckenzie came from or how she came to be. They were family. Blood. More than that, Mckenzie was her happiness.

  The very reason she fought so hard for their safety.

  And the reason she would probably have to move them…again. Daneya let out a breath as cold reality crept back in. She had no idea what a Drakon was capable of and didn’t want to stick around to find out.

  She kissed her daughter’s forehead then went to her own room farther down the hall. After showering and changing into sweats and a white tank top, she headed downstairs to the study. Cherri’s light snores rumbled from the bedroom next door. Normally, her best friend stayed up to greet her when she got home late. Like her, Cherri also worked for the DCM organization. Her job as a filing clerk allowed her to work from home and take care of Mckenzie when Daneya couldn’t.

  On nights when Daneya went out on operations, Cherri made sure to lock up the house early.

  In the study, she searched the bookshelves for anything that might give her information on the creature she’d encountered earlier. The collection of historical texts and volumes she’d accumulated over the years was extensive and rivaled the archives at the DCM compound. There had to be something here that referenced Drakons. She knew they could originate from any of the multiple species of demons, so looking into one particular race likely wouldn’t help.

  Ah, there.

  She pulled down a leather-bound book from one of the top shelves labeled, Demon Gods: Traditions and Practices. In the living room, she made herself comfortable on the couch. After another long swallow from her glass, she set it down on the coffee table then pulled the large book onto her lap.

  Most of the writing was dry and long-winded. It detailed the discovery of a pantheon of pagan gods and how it had impacted human societies and cultures. She thumbed through these sections until she came across an accounting of the gods themselves. It was disappointingly short, giving only the names of the few who held the highest ranking. The word ‘Drakonem’ caught her eye and she delved into the relating section.

  The creation of the Drakonem, also known as dragon spirits, was the first trial of the primordial demon gods. Through their combined efforts, this ancient race was given immortal form and sent to flourish on earth. They were imbued
with spirits that held great powers, one of which was the ability to transform into the shape of a dragon. Several sightings have been recorded in art and later scriptures that have accounted for many of the dragon tales surviving today.

  Daneya glossed over the following stories of human and Drakonem interaction. Most of it she already knew from previous research. She came to another passage that appeared to hold relevance and continued reading.

  The Drakonem were highly cherished by their makers and gifted with a treasure. That treasure was the blinding love and service to their gods. However, the gods’ children soon fell from grace, much as many of the angels had fallen from heaven. They became enamored of the worldly treasures they saw embraced by humans, such as greed and lust. Over time, they eventually forsook the gift of their makers and began to worship only themselves.

  Anger overtook the gods at the betrayal of their firstborn and they lashed out in terrible vengeance. Most of the Drakonem were destroyed in the ensuing years. Their ability to procreate was stripped from their beings. Some believe it was by mercy of a handful of the gods that the rest were cast into an alternate realm. There they were imprisoned to spend all of eternity in a world devoid of the treasures that had been their demise.

  Afterwards, the pantheon of gods fell into chaos. They separated ways and decided to create their own individual races. These races were born into the world with only two rules in common. The first forbade them from annihilating each other. The second banned them from ever bringing harm to humans as humans are a main source of sustenance for some of the demonic races.

  A chill sped down Daneya’s spine at the mention of sustenance. It was a fact she was all too familiar with. She skipped ahead again, impatient for the information she was seeking. It had to be in here somewhere. A corner of her mouth twitched up in a grin when she finally found what she was looking for.