they look at me, talk like I am not there.
“The Beast of Cornacadia!” the queen shouts, standing on the dais and soaking in the worship, her witch guards spread around her with their hoods up. Fucking scum, they are the reason I am not truly free. I was born with three shifts, yet I am locked into this one. Never to walk as a man again. I was seduced, I was tricked, and it cost me everything. My beast pulls at his chains, wanting to slaughter them all, even though he cannot disobey his queen.
Her eyes find mine like she can feel my anger and hatred, the same eyes that once gazed at my mortal form with longing and love, even as her husband glared at me from his deathbed. I lower my head once again, looking at the blood in the sands—another massacre at my hands. Another battle won, but how many until my beast decides he has enough of servitude and breaks free? The last cost me a form, what would this cost me?
Slamming my hand into the wheel and denting it, I push back the horrors of my past, choosing to try and ignore my regret. I know what it cost, it cost me my freedom, but at least I got some payback before I was bound and forgotten. I force myself to concentrate on driving, something I experienced only through Carmichael’s memories when I fed him. He was thrown into my pit as punishment not five years ago. Instead of killing him, I allowed him to feed. He shared his memories of the world and taught me much. He tried to free me, but could not. In the end, I told him to leave, hope once again abandoning me. It seems the fates had a plan after all.
Grunting against the pain in my soul, I jump from the ledge and let my wings spread, the black feathers blending into the inky blackness of the night sky. The wind flows through my body, as does the adrenaline I always feel when flying. Swooping overhead, I watch the lights below as I land in an alley, my wings folding in with perfect precision while I keep walking, straight onto the street behind the man I was following. Grabbing him around the throat before his bodyguards even notice, I drag him kicking into the alley.
“Where are you keeping the girls?” I ask silkily, whispering straight into his mind.
He starts to fight me, his body and mind warring as he tries to come to terms with the fact that, in this alley, he isn’t the biggest monster.
“What are you?” he demands, trying to stay strong even as his body shakes, and I can smell the fear wafting from him. Smart little sheep, to be afraid of the monster. I don’t care about them anymore than I care about the girls he is keeping and selling, but it seems the council does. For some reason, they have taken particular interest in the crime circle that has popped up in this city over last ten years, and I am who they send. It’s a punishment no doubt, but it is still an order. One I can’t deny unless I wish them to strip my wings...again. The fallen, the damned, halfies...we have many names. The council prefers assassins. Our souls beg to save those in need, a byproduct of my angel father, but my other half, my darker half, wants to hunt, to kill. Half angel, half man. All monster. I know cruelties from both the sheep and supernaturals of this world. No, none of them deserve mercy. Both are evil and filled with the need for power and control. Humans just hide it better.
Yet, here I am. Helping them, hunting them like the vermin they are. At least I can kill on this job, a perk I suppose. The last time I was only allowed to watch and report back. I’m nothing more than a tool for the council, they hold my fate in their hands, a deal I made a long time ago to save someone I loved, not that it did any good.
As soon as the contract breaks, I will rain down heavenly hellfire on those bastards, I don’t care if I take this world with me. Something soft wraps around me, as if sensing my spiraling emotions.
Growling, I push it aside, not wanting to deal with the tug still pulling at me. “I will ask once more, where are