Claimed by the Demon Knight: Book One

by Cryptic Fawn

  She couldn't fight the steady swell of panic that clawed at her guts as she struggled to drag herself along the floor, covering almost no distance at all for all the effort it took her. All of her senses were screaming at her to keep pushing forward, to go, run, hide, anything - just fucking move - to escape the nameless monster that was coming for her.

  She was being hunted. She was going to be slaughtered.

  Going to die for nothing.

  Not like this.

  Her left hand jerked forward against the dirty warehouse floor one final time, and then Elsi Rhoads collapsed. She fell with a choked-off swear and lay there sprawled on her side, the world spinning around her violently, the toxic mixture of pain, panic, confusion and nausea making her want to vomit. Then all at once all of the chaos around her, inside of her, faded, until all she could feel through a haze of pain was her heartbeat, and then - even that disappeared.

  ~~~

  You didn't fucking run from Tenuxhal, not unless you wanted to be chased. It was a strong instinct that moved him to hunt down any prey of his that tried to scramble away to safety.

  Tenuxhal didn't really need the telltale sign of a doorway with no door on its hinges to find the witch. The warehouse was almost pitch black in some spots, in tight corners and in rows between tall crates where beams of light from the windows couldn't directly reach. The shadows didn't phase him. He could see quite well in the dark. The witch was in black though, and quite possibly hiding, like a coward. But she was most definitely there.

  He moved slowly, eyes darting instinctively from the floor, to the walls, to the ceiling and back. There was no sound or movement to give the witch away. She was close, though. He could smell the blood.

  Tenuxhal rounded the corner of the first stack of crates cautiously, silent and predatory, and then froze, his thoughts cut short by the surreal and equally disgusting little tableau which was laid out before him, like a tragic feast.

  He was surprised to hell and back by what he saw. Rhoads, lying on the ground. She wasn't moving at all. And she was back in her normal human form again. What in the fuck was this? Tenuxhal had expected her to fight back still, come rushing out at him yelling and swinging her blasted staff, screaming on about the power of witches and humans, like she always did.

  But she was just lying there, like an idiot.

  "Oy. Woman," he called. "I'm not done with you yet." His deep voice echoed through the large enclosure. There was no response.

  The white-haired warrior padded evenly across the rough cement floor towards the downed witch. The knight looked composed, but it was a false mask he wore, barely succeeding in covering the turmoil that simmered just beneath its surface.

  Elsi lay crumpled on her left side, lax arms outstretched. What was left of her black knee length dress clung to her mostly in tatters, blending with the dark blood that pooled along on the floor against her still body. Her wedge heels were both missing and she had dropped her staff. The knight cocked his head to the side as he noticed that. The witch never drops her staff.

  Tenuxhal was sure as shit that he would one-day reveal in the delicious high of victory against the very bane of his existence, but now he could hardly believe it had happened. Tenuxhal had won. He'd actually won, no question, hands down won. That damn witch with her ridiculous declarations of defeating him the first time they met, her arrogant fucking demeanour, and superior attitude was lying on the ground in front of him, utterly beaten and defenceless.

  Or so it seemed.

  He paused over Elsi, his muscles still pumped with adrenaline and eager to strike one more time should the witch show even the slightest bit of a challenge. Hard silver eyes studied the woman at his feet impatiently, then he nudged her with the side of his foot, but the hazel eyes remained still, underneath those the long lashes. The witch's skin was pallid and coated in a sheen of sweat, blood spatter, and dirt. Her features were lax, not even a slight frown to show that she was in pain. She was that deeply out.

  Something seemed wrong to Tenuxhal though. It was the blood. There wasn't enough of it. So why was Rhoads unconscious when her wounds were so light? Even for a witch, they weren’t that bad, were they? He thought back to their earlier battles and he knew he'd seen the woman in worse shape, and still on two feet, or at least conscious during those fights.

  Genuinely curious, Tenuxhal tilted his head as he searched for reason, and raised one foot until it rested on Elsi’s shoulder. Slowly, and not with the ill grace and disregard he'd showed for her in Hell, he rolled the younger woman from her side onto her back. Elsi's head lolled from one side to the other, leaving no room for questions about her helpless state. The whole left side of Elsi's formerly shiny and bouncy hair was soaked in crimson.

  "What? How the hell did you let that happen?" He shook his head and snorted in disgust. "Che. We hadn't even started yet. You fucking pussy. You fucking wasted a good fight."

  Tenuxhal stood there, the stillness of the place beginning to dawn on him. It was over. All those months of waiting, anticipating, had just come to a head. Elsi was at his feet and there was only one thing left to do. It was a simple matter of killing her. And he was going to. It would be easy now to just reach down, wrap his fingers around that slender neck and snap the vertebrae, finishing their feud once and for all. And why shouldn't he? That had been his intention from the start, after all.

  So why was he still standing over the woman?

  Something profound and unsettling prowled back and forth across the recess of his mind, and it gave Tenuxhal pause. And for reasons far beyond those he could recognize and explain at that moment, he found that he wasn't quite ready to end it all just yet. They had been remarkable adversaries, both caught in the same tightly spun web of greed and betrayal, hopelessly entangled and drawn to each other by the promise of violent clashes. They had such a fucking great history together.

  And now that the witch had finally fallen, Tenuxhal hadn't even been there to see her collapse. It was like he had missed witnessing the end of the world.

  He nudged the body with his toe, a little harder this time, but the effect was the same. Elsi's plump body rocked back and forth slightly, then stilled. The knight could still feel the humans weak energy. It flickered in uneven pulses around her, sending out small ripples of energy that brushed against the knight's skin, taunting and teasing him to finish the bitch off. Tenuxhal was almost obliged by the feeling to bring his foot down and snuff it right the fuck out. But not yet. If this was really the end of their battles, then he wanted to survey his work a little more closely first.

  Savour it.

  Placing the razor sharp tip of his sword snug enough against the side of Elsi's exposed throat to draw a bead of blood, he slowly stepped over the beaten woman's body and looked her over before dropping down onto one knee and straddling her just below the knees, not caring as the blood, still so warm, soaked into his own damaged trousers and boots.

  He planted his free palm on a dry patch of cement and leaned forward, bringing his face down low, almost touching Elsi's round stomach. The scent of her blood was arousing, and he inhaled the metallic smell, letting himself travel upwards past Elsi's well-endowed chest until his nose met the crook of her neck. Instinctively, he nipped at the vulnerable flesh with sharp teeth, and his tongue flicked out to taste the blood he'd drawn.

  The sensation of the witch’s fresh, warm blood in his mouth made Tenuxhal's own blood jump in his veins in response, lusting to revive the fight. He licked his lips, cleaning away the layer of saliva that had begun to flow like a river. He wanted to dominate her, to rule her. He turned his head so that he was staring with hungry, dilated eyes at the side of Elsi's face, listening to the quick shallow breaths passing through Elsi's slightly parted red lips.

  He could to anything he wanted now, and there was not one goddamned thing Rhoads could do about it.

  Tenuxhal withdrew Zareite and placed the sword beside him on the floor. Then he slipped his free hand around Elsi's slender t
hroat and squeezed tightly, feeling a cannibalistic rush of hunger as he felt the thready pulse labour to pass beneath his fingers. There was absolutely no reaction from the witch, except that, Tenuxhal noticed, she was beginning to turn blue. He released his grip and drew his hand away as he realized how feral he had just gone. He always went wild in battle, raging and bestial, but this felt different. His mind had moved away to a darker, more primitive place that even he wasn’t used to going. Christ, before now he didn't even know there was one.

  He snapped his mouth shut as he suddenly realized that he was panting as his eyes raked over the witch's body. It was maddening how badly he wanted to consume her. She smelled fucking delicious.

  "Shit." Tenuxhal sneered and growled, pulling back and showing his fangs in a primal gesture. He was pissed off to hell and beyond, his thirst for battle still raging inside him even in his silence. There was no motherfucking way he was going to let Elsi get out of a real honest-to-goodness epic fight to the death just because she went and got her dumb ass knocked out.

  And despite his apparent penchant for Tempests, deep down Tenuxhal really wanted to finish this the old fashioned way. He hungered for it, imagined it, feeling the vibration of his blade as he plunged the razor sharp steel through those muscles and soft fat, sinking Zareite into that soft abdomen and then ripping it back out through those same witch guts, tearing across bone and flesh, and pulling with it Elsi’s anguished cry of pain. And then consuming her, innards and soul.

  Yes. Yes! Hell yes! He had a hard-on just thinking about it. Elsi wouldn't be allowed to die without looking into Tenuxhals's eyes, and knowing that her death was directly by the knight's own hands.

  Still draped over his prey, Tenuxhal put his mouth up to Elsi's ear and whispered in a rough growl, his lips brushing the blue flower piercing as he spoke.

  "This isn't good enough, Rhoads. You and I, we aren't even close to finished yet. You owe me a whole hell of a lot more that that." He grabbed her by the chin and then pulled back an eyelid with his thumb.

  "You weren't hiding your energy, were you, you stupid shit? How did you get so damned weak? Huh? I didn't come all the way here to fight some fucking weakling." He snarled. "Do you hear me, Rhoads?" He glowered daggers down at her, but Elsi's eyes had rolled so far back up into her skull that Tenuxhal couldn't even see a trace of hazel. He growled in annoyance. Elsi was completely unaware of him. It was just like the bitch to go sucking all the fun out of things for Tenuxhal.

  "Che." He frowned and sat back on his haunches, resting heavily on Elsi's knees, not in the least bit concerned with their questionable position at the moment as he considered his options.

  He could leave the girl here broken and bleeding to die. She would probably be rescued by her precious archangel friends. They could fix her ass up and Tenuxhal could fight her again later, but that couldn't be counted on. And look what had happened without Tenuxhal around to keep the girl on her game. Rhoads had let herself go in the worst way. She'd become a total fucking embarrassment.

  The knight couldn't leave her like this, lying there all pitiful and dying in a morose little puddle of blood. The gracious thing to do would be to just kill her. But Tenuxhal was not merciful. There was no place in his life for that. But there was room in his life for Elsi, in the short term.

  The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Elsi clearly needed him. He could easily build the witch backup and restore her to her former level of power. And then Tenuxhal would deliver a good death, a spectacular death, one worthy of their particular brand of loathing.

  So now he had a problem, one that disgusted him. If he wanted to get another round out of her, he'd have to heal the woman. He wondered briefly how was he going to do that. All of the knights in Beelzebubs army had received some medical training from their overlord, a necessary tool in their line of work. A few had absorbed the knowledge with ease, like him. Tenuxhal, though uninterested, was intelligent and capable of wrapping wounds and setting bones if he needed to. But what a pain in the ass it would be. And slow. He really didn't want to wait for the witch to heal.

  And then he remembered the human boy. What was his name again... Mason? He could heal injuries like these in minutes.

  He reached out with his spiritual awareness, with long practised ease, searching for a small green flame that represented the human man. There was nothing. He was nowhere near Boulder. Well, that sucked. Maybe he was dead. Oh well

  But what was he gonna do with the woman now? Her injuries were far more than any normal human could withstand, and even her witch enhanced body could be, and apparently was severely damaged. That was part of the fun of being a witch. You could kick the living shit out of one another and they would mostly walk away in one piece. Just one of the perks of being the guardians of the living world.

  He huffed in irritation. So that idea was out.

  He exhaled a long suffering sigh and toyed with Zareite, using it’s sharp tip to etch pale lines through the thick blood on the concrete, the marks quickly filling back in each time, leaving him with a fresh palette. Idly, he traced out a dome-shaped image that reminded him of home, before it too disappeared. What the fuck to do?

  He blinked. Of course. He'd take her back to the energy particle rich plane of Hell. Elsi would naturally absorb the energy she needed there and she'd be fixed up in no time at all. Question asked. Question answered.

  The corners of Tenuxhal's mouth twisted upwards to form an unnerving expression of depraved delight. The thought of having the woman all to himself, trapped and alone in Hell, prompted an unexpected shift in the knight's mood, lightening it from just plain murderous to a haughty feeling of smugness and self-satisfaction. He almost felt content, and maybe even a little frisky.

  "We're going to do this again, Rhoads. And we're going to do it right."

  Tenuxhal stood up, towering over the pale body beneath his legs. Stepping back aside, he clipped Zareite back onto his hip before quickly searching out for the diamond staff, only a few feet away, and fastening it on his other hip, bent down, scooping Elsi up with extraordinary care, for him. He wanted her to live, after all. The knight looked down at his prey again, a dead weight hanging limp in his arms like a half empty bag of trash, arms out flung, neck extended back, splashes of blood falling from her hair and mouth agape. Tenuxhal could see far back into her throat.

  A crooked grin stretched across the smooth side of his face at the sight of Elsi. What a beautiful fucking mess she was.

  Well, healing might take the little wretch a bit of time, he mused. And if he had to wait, he had to wait. After this long, what were a few more days to him, really? With a flick of one wrist, a pitch black oval portal opened silently in front of them, and with captive in hand the demon crossed into the chasm, the emptiness ahead of him inky and black. It closed with no sound.

  Moments later, the only sign of the horrors that had happened there, the only thing left of Elsi Rhoads, was a blood-stained warehouse floor. And most people in the real world would unknowingly walk over it as a new work day began, ignorant of the fact that one of their protectors had fallen, and unaware of the drama that had taken place the night before.

  No. Elsi Rhoads never would have guessed how quickly one demon knight with a monster grudge could just blow her day all to hell.

  Five

  News of a skirmish between one of the witch guardians of Colorado and a demon knight did not reach the ears of the Heavens higher ranks as it should have.

  The 15th battalion's general, Ahriman, a powerful archangel, leaned forward in front of a large monitor buried in the confines of the Angel Research and Development Edict and made note of the readings. He rested his chin on platinum hands, his thin lips pulling back, expanding wide across abnormally large teeth. Heaven resembled the living world in many ways; for example, the use of technology powered by the massive amounts of spiritual energy so abundant in the Heavenly plane.

  It seemed that a powerful demon had paid a visit to Boulder a
nd quite possibly killed Elsi Rhoads. Well, it saved him the trouble of having to go out and find one himself. Ahriman is far more interested in the beast, not the human woman, anyways. Especially if it had been a knight. But they had all been destroyed. What a pity.

  Regardless, he had acquired more than enough samples to satisfy his wicked interests, the ones he so conveniently justified and disguised under the guise of scientific research to his fellow archangels. And so, he allowed his creepy metallic hands to travel lightly over the control panel and erased the readings as a scratchy laugh snaked its way up from his throat and escaped through his teeth in a wheeze.

  ~~~

  The minute they arrived in Hell, Tenuxhal teleported back to his quarters in the Black Citadel and discreetly positioned his unconscious captive on his large bed. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally kill her because he had been too rough. For now, anyways.

  Time was an issue here. With every moment that passed in the black portal that acted as a bridge between Hell and the living world, the knight had felt life slowly slipping out of the young witches body.

  He teleported away, towards the medical supply rooms in what was once the medical lab Beelzebub had built for his precious knights, and returned in minutes, hands full of bandages, antiseptics, and whatever other items he thought might be useful. It didn't take him long to acquire the supplies because he knew exactly where everything was. He had spent weeks nursing his own wounds that had been inflicted upon him during the last battle between the two opposing spiritual forces, and had familiarized himself with the supplies.

  He unravelled the pile of bandages and set to work, quickly and efficiently wrapping the witches wounds, the one on her head taking priority. Tenuxhal furrowed his nose in surprise when he got to the filthy business of inspecting the wound. The skin beneath curly brown hair had been scraped clean away from the bone and laydown in a dishevel patch. He peeled the hair and skin back and cleansed away the blood beneath. He could see a few fractures in her skull radiating out from the impact point.