Part 15

Blood... Gods, the blood! It rushed through him like an electric current, streaks of fire through his ice cold flesh. The warmth soaked through his body as it pulsed to the beat of an undead heart, throbbing in his temples like the crash of waves upon a cliff. The rush drowned out all other noise; he was aware of the struggle behind him, though he heard nothing of it; nor did he hear the sound of Illestra's body as it lurched to a stop, crumpling awkwardly against the cobblestones below. He cried out in agony as something tore inside him, a sudden loneliness that reached up from within and choked him with tears of blood. He watched with outstretched hand as two droplets of blood followed her down, arcing end over end before splattering on the stones alongside her body, twin crowns of life exploding from crimson pools. The sound was that of a titanic drum, a double-tap shattering his newborn senses to life. The struggle behind him, screeching and growling, flesh tearing from bone; the sound of skin crinkling into a smile somewhere in the shadows nearby; raucous cries and moans as bodies slapped and mingled in the inn across the way, the scratching of claws on pavement as rats began to feed on the dead bum below... he heard it all, hammering at him with unnatural clarity, threatening to drown him in a sea of sounds. But above all else, an underlying rhythm... the music of the night. The symphony of a thousand hearts, each beating its own tune, weaving a tapestry of life that he could feel pulsing through the very streets of the city. The beat pulsed through him, the power overwhelming... each beat a whispering tendril that snaked inside... tugging and pulling and tearing the deepest desire from where it lie still unborn within... the hunger... demanding release... the orgiastic pounding of a shaman's drum... driving him to frenzy... the beast rising...

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He cradled her head in his lap, his hands leaving streaks of crimson in her pale hair as he smoothed it from her face. He was covered in blood, his hair matted with gore, a bead of crimson welling from the tip of his aquiline nose. He knew it wasn't his, but he didn't know how it had gotten there... only that something had happened to him... something within him had risen to satiate an unstoppable hunger, a beast unleashed upon the world. He remembered nothing, only the vague recollection of the world through crimson mist, visions of claws and fangs and death. All he knew was that they were alone, and he was stronger than before. And in control.

The eagle landed at her feet, flapping its wings uneasily as if unsure what to do, not quite standing still. They both stared at the gaping wound in her chest, the flesh seeming to crumble and sink around it rather than heal as it should have. She lie there on her back, body crushed from the fall like a child's clay doll dropped from a tower. Iblis bent forward to gently kiss her forehead, the blood on his lips mingling with that in his tears upon her pale brow. The beaded blood dropped from the end of his nose to her cold porcelain cheek, where it rolled down her face, over her lips. She stirred then, eyes fluttering open dazedly, hand trembling with weakness as she reached up to caress his face. He covered her hand with his own, holding the long, cold fingers against his cheek, trying to warm them, but she smiled sadly, the
effort driving her back to the darkness as she whispered... "Take me... home..."