boiling tar and I screamed as my skin bubbled and blistered from the heat. More boiling fluid ran into my eyes, searing my retinas, and flooded into my mouth, scalding my tongue. The sulphurous taste of rotten eggs burnt the back of my throat and the fires of hell scorched down my gullet and bubbled like molten lava in my belly.
For a moment I was too shocked to think, then my mind lurched in horror as I realised what she’d done.
She’d impregnated me with demon acid.
Within seconds I could feel the embryo imps crawling inside me, biting, scratching, digging their miniscule claws and teeth and barbed tails into my organs, muscles, bones, brain ... tiny jagged pains flashed through me like hundreds of needles. Imps consumed their surrogate—and each other—in their vicious efforts to be birthed, a true ‘survival of the fittest’ competition. At least we weren’t talking Rosemary’s Baby here, no nine months of slowly stretching belly to lug around until the anti-Christ is born; just forty-eight hours until a newly formed imp entered the world if I—or rather, Rosa—was lucky.
I stared at her, still too horrified to speak.
‘Now don’t look at me like that, Genevieve,’ she tutted. ‘I know you’ve probably heard loads of horror stories, but the imps really are under your control, you know.’ She touched her index finger to my forehead and muttered in the guttural language; the imps quieted. ‘So long as you do as instructed they should stay reasonably quiescent, then Rosa’s body shouldn’t sustain too much damage—and remember, it does heal extremely quickly. Then tomorrow, when you’re back to your own self, I’d be happy to do you the favour of removing the imps from Rosa.’ She shrugged. ‘Or not, your choice—you could always leave them to follow their natural inclination, in which case both you and Rosa will be free of the magic that joins you. After all, if there’s no
I licked my dry lips, almost heaving at the taste of sulphur that clung to them. ‘I take it the egg is in exchange for the imps’ removal,’ I said, glad my voice came out steady.
‘No, of course not; I’d be happy to do it as a favour for you.’ She rested her hands on my shoulders. I tried to shrug her off, not wanting her to touch me, then muffled my panic as my body refused to obey. ‘But my only worry is that without the egg,’ she carried on, smiling sadly, ‘and without the possibility of being able to release Gwen’s soul before tomorrow night, I might be too upset to work the necessary magics.’
Tomorrow night. All Hallow’s Eve.
Debt-collecting night for demons.
And that was what was wrong with her story. She didn’t want to release the Ancient’s One’s soul; she wanted to use it as payment.
‘You do realise there’s a flaw in your plan, don’t you?’ I said, slightly amazed I could actually think, even if I couldn’t move. ‘The egg is in a bank vault and there’s no way I can walk into the bank and withdraw it, since there’s that little matter of being wanted for murder.’
‘Oh, silly me! I quite forgot to mention’—she patted my cheek and I gritted my teeth at her touch—‘I’ve arranged for a solicitor to accompany you to the police tomorrow, at noon, shall we say? to have all the charges dropped. He’ll pick you up outside your flat at quarter to twelve.’ She chuckled. ‘We can call it a bonus favour, for your continued investment in my Hallowe’en Easter Egg hunt.’
Did that mean she knew who the killer was? Or was it just some sort of ‘arrangement’ thanks to her demon master?
‘What about the real murderer?’ I asked.
‘Now then, let’s not worry about that now.’ Her fingers moved to toy with the top button on my—
My mind short-circuited again. ‘What does that mean?’
She tapped the side of her nose. ‘You’ll find out soon enough. Now, time to get dressed, Genevieve.’ She pushed me towards the blue sofa where the golden outfit glittered malevolently. ‘And then go and kill Malik.’
I picked up the gold-plated steel collar with one hand and wrapped the heavy chain around my other, staring at it numbly, my mind automatically assessing it. It wasn’t exactly a garrotte, but looped round his neck—and there was enough of it to go round the movie-monster’s neck, not just Malik’s—and with enough pressure exerted—easily done with my superior vampire strength—decapitating him shouldn’t take more than a couple of seconds.
Only ...
... only I didn’t want to kill Malik.
Even as I thought it, pain ripped like wild fire through my body as needle-like teeth bit into my inner flesh. I doubled over, my hand clutching at the steel collar, unable to stop the bloody tears streaming down my face as the world exploded into white-hot torment.
After what felt like an eternity in the centre of the inferno, I managed to work out how to make my mind shape the words the imps wanted.
The pain dulled in increments to a dull ache. So that was the deal: either I tried to kill Malik, or the imps would eat Rosa’s body while I was still inside it.
Catch 22, anyone?
Chapter Twenty-One
The dimly lit bedroom was larger than the lounge, and decorated with so much blood that it looked like an artist’s rendition of a murder scene; bright red arcs sprayed up the dusk-blue wall behind the king- sized bed, blotted the white silk sheets and splattered dark trails along the thick blue carpet. Malik and Darius lay spooned together on the bed in a tangle of pale, blood-drenched naked bodies. A cacophony of conflicting emotions—desire, hunger, jealousy, anger and shock—cascaded over me and my dialled-down vampire senses sprang back to life. My heart thudded in my chest as I inhaled the strong tang of copper, saliva pooled in my mouth and my stomach rumbled with emptiness. Listening carefully, I could make out two heartbeats, both slow, but both steady. He hadn’t killed Darius. Then the urge to crawl onto the bed and join the two vamps exploded in my mind, not to satisfy my hunger, but to rip their throats out, tear them limb from limb and bathe in their blood, just for the pure gleeful fun of it.
I took a step forward, and another, following the urge, my feet and the chain I was dragging, scuffing over the carpet, then I swayed, dizzy, as I made myself stop. Damn! Looked like the imp-imparted psychosis thing was true, then! The imps don’t only consume their host, they infect them with their irresistible enjoyment of chaos and violence.
And fuck, was Malik a messy violent eater or what?
The thought brought an edge of hysteria to the laughter rising in my throat. I strangled it before it could escape—much as the imps wanted me to do to Malik. I looked around the room for anything that might help me: pale wood desk, plasma TV, a laptop, its screen dark, a half-open door to what had to be a bathroom, and the same wall of glass as in the lounge overlooking the dance floor—but no handy priest or bottle of Holy Water in sight. I was going to have to complain to the Blue Heart’s management for their lack of foresight. After all, the nearest church was a five-minute run away ... an idea almost formed in my head—
The spike-sharp pain in my left kidney prodded my attention back to the bodies on the bed and my allotted task.
‘Well, this is cosy, isn’t it?’ I drawled, my voice calm enough to conceal the horror eating through my body.
