Katie hides her face against Morgan’s neck and tries not to gag.
Anya watches with no emotion as the twin turns and flies screaming at her. She leaps into the air and her wings explode with a brilliant eruption of blue light. The hunger has taken over her mind, “too much blood” she thinks. Her mouth fills with saliva and her sole thought is one of a predator starving for nourishment.
Like his brother before him, he flicks his wing and sends four silver blades through the air straight at Anya. She is able to dodge two before the third and fourth find their mark. One sinks into her shoulder and the other slices deep into her leg. Anya screams and begins a tumbling descent to the earth.
Morgan reacts and leaps for the demon in the air. His powerful wings blow Katie’s hair into her face as he climbs quickly, closing the distance to his foe. He throws his spearheaded staff into the chest of the enraged angel. Its impact sends his forsaken brother screaming to the ground and pins him to the snow-covered stone.
Anya lands badly on the ground with a thud. “Thank you, Morgan.” She collapses to her knees for a second, breathing hard and gasping in pain. Katie rushes towards her, but Anya snarls at her. “No! Don’t touch me. Take Katie away from here and find the gate,” she orders.
Katie jerks at Anya’s rejection seeking solace in Morgan’s arms.
Slowly Anya reaches for the blade imbedded in her shoulder, wrapping her hand around its sharp edges. She takes a quick breath and jerks the blade free of her shoulder, a hiss of pain escapes her clenched jaw. Her blood, once red, now is a darker shade of purple running down her chest and arm. She stares at it for a moment and then watches in amazement as the wound closes leaving a light pink scar from the skin knitting back together. “Well, that will be useful.” Giving a flick of her wrist, she throws the metallic blade at the demon, he grunts in pain and twitches on the ground. Anya stares at him and wonders what he tastes like. “I have had vampire, but not your kind, yet. Are you an angel or demon, now?” She wonders as she stands and pulls the other blade out of her thigh. She throws this one harder and hits the angel in his stomach. A wet thunk is heard as the blade passes through him and hits the stone under the angel’s bloody back. As she walks slowly towards him, she watches as the fallen writhes in pain attempting to free himself. He stops moving when she stands above him, her teeth extended, her taloned hands flexing, and her eyes burning with hunger.
“Help me, Herald. This is a serious misunderstanding. I…, I’m an angel, like Morgan.” He reaches up a hand slick with his own blood and Anya grasps it.
“An angel?” She whispers back. Leaning down she brings his hand up to her face, she smells it once, and unable to resist, she takes his pointer finger into her mouth and sucks on it. The demon jerks on the ground and closes his eyes in ecstasy.
“So hot and moist,” he whispers and instantly his pain is forgotten. When he opens his eyes, Anya is kneeling on the stone beside him. When her eyes connect with his he is transfixed, unable to move, but he can feel. “More,” he pleads.
Anya jerks Morgan’s staff out of his chest and flings it aside. The blood wells up from the jagged wound and begins to run over the sides of his body, pooling around them on the ground. “Yes, more.” She crouches over him with her lips almost touching his, she moves her mouth lightly across his cheek to his neck.
His scent is strong, but it is not the scent of his blood calling her, it is something else. Anya inhales and his body convulses as if electrified. The red glow of his corrupted spirit lifts from his body and she takes a deep breath, drawing it into her chest. At that moment, Anya can hear his thoughts, read his memories and the orders given to him. Her fangs retract and her eyes blaze as her wings illuminate while she absorbs all of his ethereal soul.
Amber eyes flick to the bloody ruined body of his fallen twin. She realizes there are more ways than one to kill a demon. Her gifts are evolving, and she is not sure how to feel about it. Looking at her blood covered hands and clothes, she wonders what she is becoming.
Morgan limps as he leads Katie to the center of the cemetery. The gate is located on the opposite side in a small stone mausoleum. A warm glow seems to emanate from the small stone structure. It is gothic in its architecture with an ornate archway and beautiful, intricate designs etched into a stone window.
“Morgan your leg is bleeding.” Katie quickly rips a piece of her shirt off to tend to him only to have him turn away from her and murmur, “Not now, we must get to the gate.” Katie stands and holds the ripped cloth in her trembling hand.
“So much blood…” she whispers and presses a hand to her temple. Her head is pounding and her body trembles. “Morgan?” The snow is falling heavily now, and
