the tableau of dominance and submission, and it wasn’t the stench.
Evil. Pure, high-octane evil was down there in that alley. It was . . . her, but not her, her essence captured and held within the flesh of the one that was on the ground . . . and yet he was not what interested her. No, she was enthralled by the one who was now opening his mouth. Now beginning to inhale. Now . . . drawing up and out of the parted lips of the supplicant a black ether, breath, but not breath.
Devina stepped into the shadows, and cast a spell around herself, ensuring that she was indistinguishable from the bricks and mortar she abruptly had to lean against. Beneath the aggressor, the body of the victim jerked, the chest rising up, the head falling back as if in great ecstasy or great agony. And that was when she saw the slice across the throat and the black blood oozing out of the jugular vein.
Whispers deep in the core of her sex became stirrings . . . which expanded to an honest-to-demon need, the pilot light, long dimmed, flaring to life and heating her body.
The sounds of the transfer, of the consumption, were like the sucking and smackings of a blow job, erotic in her ear, the gurgling, the gasping, the clicking of the dead man’s mouth, fuzzing her brain as her blood began to race. Heat pooled between her thighs and did not stay put, the transforming tide washing upward into her breasts, her nipples tightening, her heart racing such that her plump lips parted and she drew in a quick gasp.
The next thing she knew, her hand was under her skirt and between her legs, the rubbing and pressure a compulsion that was sweetly served by her fingers. Meanwhile, the man on the bottom, the one with the slit throat, began to tremble and jerk, sure as if that which was being extracted was presenting some kind of resistance to its removal. The faster and more torturous his quaking, the faster and more rigorously Devina stroked herself—
She orgasmed just as there was a howling screech.
The release made her squeeze her eyes shut, and for a moment, she was so suffused in pleasure, she forgot she was standing against a building in a shitty alley in a not-so-hot part of Caldwell.
When her lids eventually lifted with languorous delay, there was only one man where before there had been two, and the one who had been doing the inhaling listed to the side and fell over onto the ground. Was he dying? He barely breathed, his skin pasty white, his fingers twitching, his legs jerking, as if poison was in his system. Meanwhile, evil emanated from his very pores. He was a resplendent repository for all that was vile and depraved, a black hole of the kind of thing that coursed through her own veins.
He was her twin.
When he seemed to stop moving, Devina took a step forward. And another.
She didn’t want to be alone anymore. She was tired of these cold, empty streets, this listless existence, this . . . isolation.
If he died right here? It was too much of a loss to bear even if she didn’t know him. She had been an empty shell since she had landed back in the hustle/bustle of this world, wandering the night like a lost soul, pining after an angel who had despised her rather than loved her.
But this man? This . . . whatever he was?
He would not despise her. And she would have him for her very own—
“Cop! I’m here!”
From out of thin air, an entity coalesced and knelt by the man. Devina’s man. Before she could kill it, her doppelganger reached for the new arrival with unsteady hands.
“Fuck, V. God . . .”
“I gotchu. Come here.”
With impossible gentleness, the entity reached out and gathered her man close, holding him to a chest that was broad and strong. And then a nightmare happened. The two became one, their bodies entwining, as a horrible, awful light began to glow. The illumination was the antithesis of everything Devina had been attracted to, a beneficence that cleared conscience and cognition at once, that eased suffering, that provided miracles too unlikely to even be prayed for. It was the force that returned the lost to the loved one, that rescued the drowning, that gave the first breath to an infant who should not have survived the birthing canal.