Dead End Diner: Book one

by Bea Biddle

  The two Demons by Cef's sides retracted their weapons. Without the Skarrams in his throat and chest, Cef was able to take a deep breath. It also provided an opportunity. As the two Demons pushed him forward, he jerked out of their grip before launching himself at the left one. His arms were still tied to his back, but his head was free. And he was still a Demon. So he charged.

  His horns rammed into the back of the unsuspecting Demon, deep into flesh. Blood splattered on the floor, even more so after the quick jerk of Cef's head, tearing the surprised Demon's wound open to the armpit. The Demon hissed in pain, with a fast headbutt from Cef he was on the floor, his Skarram clanging on the rough concrete.

  It happened so fast the other Demon hesitated a second before charging. But Cef had taken advantage of that second. He rolled swiftly over the fallen Demon, finding the discarded Skarram and cut through the ropes as fast as he could. Grabbing the hilt of the Skarram, he swung it around, still on his knees, just in time to block the swipe from the other one.

  Sparks flew as they met again. But only once. The Demon was rattled, and Cef was angry. The Demon's head rolled along the ground, bouncing twice before being swallowed up by the gray, swirling mist that made up the rift. It flared red, bathing the room in a dark glow.

  Struggling to breathe, the first Demon charged, spitting blood as he snarled. Cef knew he had torn open his lung, and he had no weapon. He took a moment to appreciate the courage the young Demon showed, foolhardy as it was, before he was on his feet, and with a flick of his wrist, he had embedded the Skarram deep in his attacker's chest.

  Tamas whipped around at the commotion. When he saw only Cef left standing he sneered at him. "You are determined to be difficult, aren't you?" he yelled and drew his own blades. "Contain him!" he roared at the remaining Demons.

  They attacked at once. All of them. Skarrams flew, the sound of blades meeting, slicing through the air, sparks lit up the darkened, red room. But Cef was angry. Anger worked for him. One by one they were blocked and parried, no Demon able to touch him, to get close enough. When Cef managed to impale one, letting him fall to the ground where he joined the previous two, turning to dust at his feet, Tamas had had enough. He roared in irritation and anger and drew his Skarrams. His soldiers were busy trying to find a way into Cef's defenses, but Tamas knew his former friend well. There was always a way in, even the mighty Ceftion had his weaknesses.

  Tamas jumped at him from behind, kneed him in the back, and before Cef could register the attack Tamas had him pinned to the floor. Cef growled and lifted his blade, he struck out at the Demon on his back, but Tamas knocked them out of his hands. "I am starting to find it really annoying how you keep killing my soldiers," he hissed, his own blades scissoring Cef's neck, ready to render him headless. "If I did not need your blood, you would be gone now. But do not worry, you will only die a little and only once I have taken what that I need."

  ✽✽✽

  Karen was trapped in Sylvester's clutches. His sharp nails digging into her skin, his fangs pressed against her. She felt him puncturing her skin, she felt the sharp, stinging pain when his teeth dug into her vein. She couldn't fight it, he was too strong, it was like pushing against a rock wall. She was frozen in place as he tore into her, opening the wounds. His tongue flicked across her skin. Droplets of her blood ran down her throat. It tingled, branching out from the wound, she felt the blood rushing dangerously through her veins, draining her. She wanted to scream, wanted to struggle, but found her body doing neither.

  And then nothing. She was released. Sylvester was torn from her body with such force Karen was knocked away, falling on the hard ground on her hands and knees. The wolf had pounced on them, charged at the vampire stealing its prey. Karen was no longer the Were's target, no longer the Vamp's victim, but that was no relief. She scrambled and crawled and dragged her tired body to the corner of the room, pressing her back against the cold, hard wall. There was still no way out, still no escape. And she could do nothing but watch.

  The Were and the Vamp circled each other. What little blood Sylvester had managed to take was enough to make a difference in him, although still stick thin and his cheeks hollow, his eyes burned with a fire from within. His nails had grown long as claws, his fangs as well. His lips were bloody, it dripped on the floor where he prowled. Her blood. Karen felt lightheaded and dizzy but swallowed her whimper. Touching her neck, her fingers came away sticky. Clamping her palm over the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, she watched them. Scared out of her mind. And not sure of which one.

  Sylvester hissed at the wolf, his shoulders rolled back, ready for the attack. His teeth sharp, not just the fangs she was so used to, all of them. He had changed, his very bones seemed to crack and shift as he stepped around the Were. Shaping him into the monster he had warned her about. The wolf raised itself up on its hind legs. Stretching, the muscles under the rustling and rising fur tensed dangerously. It howled, long and clear, the hot breath solidifying in the icy air. It snorted mist, snarled saliva. Small beady eyes, wide snout, teeth like knives. Shivers ran down Karen's back. She felt sick as fear roiled in her stomach. She recognized this wolf. She had met it before. The night everything crumbled around her. This was Garth. She didn't know how she could tell, had no idea how she could pick this wolf out of the rest of the pack. But she knew instantly.

  With a roar the Were crashed its body into the waiting Vamp, throwing them both into the rattling bars behind them in a flurry of claws and fangs. Sylvester screeched angrily, an inhumane sound Karen had never heard from him before, and hauled the wolf off of him. His claw-like nails dug into the wolf back, wrenching a whimpering yowl from the Were. He tore the wolf's back open in large gashes. Sylvester moved as if he was dancing, swift and elegant even when lacerating another creature.

  The Were growled, jumping back from him. Snarling and spitting, the blood oozing down its back when it stretched. With claws drawn it charged at the Vamp again, throwing its massive weight around as if it was nothing. They clashed. A test of strength and they appeared evenly matched, claws and fangs and nails dug into each other. Fur and blood lined the floor. Karen almost choked on her own breath when the Were sliced through Sylvester's shirt, leaving shredded black satin hanging on to the pale frame. Sylvester attacked in return, ugly, deep gashes in his chest moved when he struck out.

  But the wolf had him by the arm. Flinging the Vamp away. Sylvester landed in a heap against the wall. Bricks cracked, dust clouded around him. Garth snarled, threw his enormous head back and howled, chilling Karen to the bones. She gasped. She shouldn't have. The second she uttered the sound, the small, beady eyes found her huddled in the corner. Its ears twitched, lips drew back in a vicious snarl. Hands spread, claws raised. With a rustle of its fur, it moved towards her.

  She screamed but couldn't move, couldn't take her eyes off the incoming rows of razor-sharp teeth.

  And then its legs were pushed out from under it. Sylvester ramming his body into the larger than life Were from the side. They tumbled together, falling to the ground, rolling in another match of sharp claws and feral bites until they crashed into the cage. With a hiss, Sylvester wrangled the wolf off of him, and suddenly it was as if there was no contest anymore. Sylvester was fast, his moves hard to follow. Hissing and growling, slamming the wolf against the bars before he all but crushed the furry body with his bare hands.

  Garth snapped at him, trying to clamp its ferocious fangs around his waist. But Sylvester was faster, grabbing hold of the snout and jaw and twisted it off him. The wolf howled and panted and sneered but Sylvester did not let go. With a quick flick of his wrists, Karen heard the snap of the jaw and really wished she hadn't. The wolf let out a twisted yowl in pain, blobs of blood still splattered from its back, and now also its gaping jaws.

  The Vamp picked up Garth as if he weighed nothing and threw the wolf against the bars. They rattled and creaked and the wolf growled. With its jaw hanging, the long tongue dangling, it snorted and snarled, clawing at the gro
und trying to find footing. Claws dug into the concrete, but the wolf shook and wobbled. Sylvester didn't give it a chance. He tore it from the ground, slamming it into the bars again. And again and again. Until, when it hit the floor one last time, it did not get back up.

  Sylvester pounced on it instantly, pulling its head back exposing the throat and buried his teeth in the blood-soaked fur. The wolf whimpered but could fight no longer.

  Silence followed, only broken by the wet, slobbering from Sylvester, drinking his victim, draining him dry. Karen still couldn't move. The white of the wolf's eyes showed as they rolled back in its skull. It whimpered, uttering a long, drawn-out raspy whine that faded. And then it stopped breathing.

  It seemed to take forever, seemed an eternity before Sylvester raised his head. He cracked his shoulders, throwing his head back with a deep breath and shuddered. A couple of breaths later he pushed himself off the Were and rose on shaky legs. He walked backward, stumbling away from the wolf. No, it wasn't a wolf anymore. It was Garth. Lying on the floor, naked and drenched in his own blood, tufts of gray fur scattered around him.

  "I hate Were blood," Sylvester growled loud enough to have the words echoed in the tall warehouse. "Grainy and salty," he continued and spat on the floor, "Fucking animal blood." Karen's gaze was fixed on the body in front of him. Dead. His skin had lost all color, and though still smeared in blood and dirt, the open wounds on his back showed no sign of blood inside the body. How was that possible? He was a wax figure of his former self, lying there, looking nothing like the man he used to be.

  Sylvester turned to face her. What little color he usually had was back, his face no more hollow, his arms, his legs, every bit the same old Sylvester. Except his clothes were torn, and the blood on his face from his feed now made him look like a savage. He took a few steps towards her and she panicked, tried crawling backward. Of course, the wall stopped her, and she could move no further. He sighed deeply and shook his head, walking the last paces to her.

  Karen held her breath. Her heart threatening to bounce right out of her chest. She had no idea Sylvester could be like that, such a killing machine, she had no idea he was capable of anything like it.

  He tried straightening his black shirt, but there was no point, there was almost nothing left to straighten. He dusted off his dress pants, ripped and stained with blood. He wiggled his nose disapprovingly at his appearance, he was a mess, and yet, absolutely nothing could take away the elegance with which he walked, the refined grandeur that clung to his every movement. This was definitely Sylvester. He ran a hand through his blood-stained, white hair that had regained its bounce and thickness, and crouched before her with a perfectly shaped black eyebrow raised in a silent question.

  "Stay- stay away," Karen stuttered awkwardly.

  "Let me guess, or you'll hurt me?” Sylvester asked, unable to hide the amusement in his voice or the small smirk that spread on his lips.

  Silence ruled again as they locked eyes. Karen swallowed hard. ”Are you- are you yourself again?” she asked cautiously.

  Sylvester patted his abdomen, knocking his chest experimentally. ”As much as I could possibly be.”

  ”Oh, Sly,” Karen cried, pushing off the wall, throwing herself at him, crushing him to her in a tight hug. She felt him hug her back, and it was the most comforting, icy cold hug she had ever felt. ”I'm so glad you're here. I'm so sorry. I missed you so much. I'm so sorry.”

  ”It's alright, Kare-bear,” he soothed, with a grateful chuckle. ”I'm sorry you had to see me like that. A starving vampire is never a pretty sight. How very undignified,” he snorted with disdain. It only made Karen hug him tighter. This was Sylvester. Then he gently pushed her away, concert marred his features as he ran his thumb down the side of her neck where her blood had run freely. ”Did I hurt you much? I don't remember what happened after you opened the gate. Your blood was within reach and I succumbed to the frenzy. It will not happen again.” Smirking at her through bloodstained teeth he added in a drawl, ”Unless you beg me.”

  She punched his shoulder. ”Do not joke now,” she scolded gently, ”It's fine, you didn't get to do much damage.” Karen shrugged with a smile she could not wipe off her face even if she wanted to. ”I'm alright.”

  ”I did try to warn you,” he pointed out, ”I warned you not to open the cage. I knew I couldn't fight it. It's my nature, Karen.”

  She laughed out of complete relief. ”If I hadn't opened the gate, Sly-” she stopped herself, remembering Garth and his drained body lying on the concrete floor, and her face fell.

  ”I'm sorry you had to see that, too.”

  ”You killed him.”

  He nodded with an unapologetic shrug and bit his lip. "I did." With a sigh, he draped his arm around her shoulders, giving her a friendly squeeze. "I shouldn't have been able to. He is an Alpha. But something was off with him, he was distracted tonight. As if he was-"

  ”Insane,” Karen finished for him. ”Garth went nuts, Sly.”

  He nodded again, this time thoughtfully. ”He did always have that tendency.”

  ”Cef!” Karen burst out, clutching at Sylvester's destroyed shirt. ”Sly, we have to help Cef. They-”

  The door on the floor creaked loudly, interrupting her, with heavy paws walking in. They had come. The wolf pack had found them. And they didn't look pleased. They surveyed the situation, low growls vibrated through the air, snapping jaws clapped at them, echoing through the warehouse. They snorted and snarled, misty breaths and saliva dripped to the floor. Some rose to their full height, walked on their hind legs, rustled their fur. They spread out, a few walked to their dead Alpha, sniffing him, snorting at the blood on the floor, fur flew into the air at their approach. They stalked towards Sylvester. All menacing, feral eyes and sharp teeth.

  And Karen did the only thing she could think off. She hid behind him.

  ✽✽✽

  The swords at his neck held him still. Cef knew the second he moved they would slice through. A thought pushed its way through his crowded head. He could do it, he should let Tamas slice through his neck. Killing himself would take away his blood. He almost smiled at the thought. At least his blood would not be used for the rift. But Tamas would not be stopped that easily, he had other Demons, and the world was crawling with humans. "I know what you are thinking, old friend, and no, you can't stop me like that,” Tamas whispered in his ear. He rose, his knees no longer digging into Cef's back.

  As soon as he was on his feet, his Demons strung Cef up between them, dragging him along, holding his arms and legs tightly. "I am sorry it had to end like this," Tamas said, his tone of voice revealing that he was, of course, nothing of the sort. "But, in the end, I think it is only fitting it is your blood opening the pathway, don't you?" Tamas asked conversationally as he casually pressed Cef's head down to lie on the larger of the stones, its surface deceptively rough against his cheek. "Do you know what they call you back home?" Tamas raised the knife high in the air, his breath ragged in excitement and anticipation, ready to slice through Cef's throat. "Ceftion the Betrayer. That's what they call you. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

  "Stop!" a voice called out, hoarse and raspy, thick with struggle. Zac was on his knees in the doorway, clutching his stomach, his eyes shut tight as he tried steadying his breathing. He flickered, constantly back and forth between transparency and solidity. Shaking and shuddering.

  "What is this?" Tamas exclaimed as he watched the wavering figure. "What trick of the light is this?"

  A Demon charged towards him, her long, thick braid whipped behind her as she ran. Her Skarram sang as it sliced through the air and, as if Zac wasn't there, it sliced right through him as well. She stumbled back in surprise, shook her head in confusion. "He is not here," she sneered at the Ghost. "What are you?" she demanded as she swung her Skarram through him again.

  "You will not spill his blood," Zac pushed out through gritted teeth, "No more rifts will be opened by blood spill."

  "Zac, what ar
e you doing here?" Cef yelled at him. Several Demons charged at him, none able to hurt him, none able to touch him. Tamas' hands balled into fists at the sight, his jaw clenched in uncertainty.

  Zac crawled further into the room. "I'm stopping this."

  ✽✽✽

  "He is dead." The words were a solid statement, but Karen heard the barely noticeable alleviation hidden in them. She saw the way Jake's tension left his shoulders after they were spoken. She had just watched him transform back into a human, a process she could do without having to witness again. His fur had receded back into his body, with every step towards Sylvester his snout had diminished, his ears shrinking, his whole body cracked and bones moved until he was the Jake she recognized. The sound that had accompanied the change had made her feel ill, the sound of his body imploding was like a thick liquid running down a drain.

  Karen ground her teeth as Jake's bare feet padded carefully towards Sylvester until he stood before him in all his naked glory. As naked as the rest of the wolf pack hanging back, surveying the situation, watching him, clearly taking their cue from him. Jake didn't seem to care about his nakedness, crossing his arms over his chest with a deep, tired breath. But neither did Sylvester for that matter, he freely let his eyes roam the naked Were, wandering over the handsome lengths with an appreciative, lascivious smirk. Karen felt the urge to elbow him in the side. Vamps were unbelievable.

  Sylvester didn't speak. He stood, roving over Jakes body before he even lowered himself to meet his eyes. He had wiped the blood off his face, his clothes were still in rags, his feet bare, dirt and blood streaked his hair, but he still managed to exude a gracefulness and classical dignity that Karen had never managed. "Yes, he is dead," he finally answered, his fanged smile dazzling.