Page 25 of Dark Embrace

Layla looked up at him now in the dim light, her face pale, her dark hair tumbling over hershoulders.

“For everything you gain from this choice, there will be sacrifice in equal measure,” hewarned.

He had not made this offer before. He was not even certain he could succeed in her transformation for his plan of action was based solely on the hazy recollections of his own rushed and terrifying transition. She might die during the process. She would definitely diewithoutit.

Shenodded.

“Come.” He offered his arm and she took it, leaning heavily upon him as they moved from the Inquisitor’s chamber to a narrow hallway with small cells on either side. When they reached the end of the corridor, Killian stopped. He held to the shadows, his form draped all in black, invisible to the wretch who lay on the ground where he had beentossed.

Killian had come to this place because he had heard this man’s cries andpleas.

He was doomed, this man who was a husband and father, whose crime was labeled heresy because he refused to forsake his religion and replace it with another. He had been accused and detained. Tortured. Tried.Sentenced.

Killian had not been there to witness the man’s torment. But he knew what had been done because he knew the human body and could read the signs in the prisoner’s broken andbloodiedform.

Beside him, Layla’s every breath was too fast, too shallow. He could hear her pulse, the racing of her heart, the pounding of the blood in her veins. Sweet blood, hot and alive. After this night, her blood, her heart, her very physiology would be permanentlyaltered.

It was an easy matter for Killian to enter the cell, to hunker down by the prisoner’s side, to ask him, “Why do you beg to die? I heard you as I passed by, calling out for a mercifuldeath.”

The man’s lips were dry and cracked and it took him a moment to manage a reply. “Are you anapparition?”

“I am not.” Killian rested his hand on the man’s injured shoulder and held his gaze, willing him to feel no pain, no fear. He supposed this ability to lull mortals into a state of calm repose was a handy thing when his survival required him to kill them. A calm victim was far easier to drain than one who struggled. And for the victim, it was far easier to die without fear. “Tell me why you wishtodie.”

“They will burn me at the stake on the morrow,” the prisoner said, his words even and soft now. “They have denied me death by garrote before burning. They will burn me alive.” He closed his eyes. “Kill me quickly. Kill me now. Deny them their pyre. Show memercy.”

Layla made a low moan, and Killian looked up to find that she had moved to the door of the small cell. “Hurry,” she said. “Bring him and let usbeaway.”

“You think I brought you here to save this man from his fate?” Killian asked. “After my warnings and admonitions, you believe I brought you hereforthat?”

Layla wrapped her arms around herself, resting her shoulder heavily on the bars. Her eyes were liquid, the shadows and dim light making them larger and darker, like the hollowed sockets of a skeletalskull.

Killian shook his head. “I brought you here to watch me feed, to understand what fate you beg for. I told you that your life would be purchased with compromises, with the need to do things. Disturbingthings.”

“Feed?” she whispered with a glance at the broken man who lay on thefloor.

“I am here to kill him,” Killian said. “A kindness, in truth. Mercy.” He said the last though he was not certain there was such a thing as a mercifulmonster.

“A kindness?” Layla took a step back, horror etching herfeatures.

“Death at my hand will be swift andpainless.”

“We can take him from this place. We can save him,” Layla said, but the words wavered and dipped, as though she already accepted that she argued against theinevitable.

Killian made a gesture to encompass the cell and the hallway beyond. “I cannot save them all.” He had learned that long ago. He had learned that humans would die and he would not. He had learned not to let his hunger grow to the point that he fed indiscriminately, a feral creature driven by need. He had learned to kill those who were evil or those on the brink of death. His conscience sat better on his shoulders that way. This kill was amercy.

“Watch now,” he said. “Learn. You will need theseskills.”

She sank to her knees on the cold stone, as though his words stole the last of her strength. “What are you?” shewhispered.

He had not expected it, her horror and revulsion. But he saw now that he should have. He thought back to the human boy-man he had been before the stranger came to his family’s home. He had not been offered a choice between death and monster. The monster had bred a monster and then walked out to burn inthesun.

Would Kjell have chosen life if the creature had let himchoose?

Killian did not know. He was Kjell no longer, and he had not been human in a very long while. He was Killian now, and Killian neededtofeed.

A warning of the coming dawn crawled across his skin; it was less than an hour away. If he tarried here any longer, the dawn would flay his skin and burn hotter than the pyre this wretch feared. He needed to finish here and seek thedarkness.

He lifted the man’s head to his lap. He pulled his knife free. He no longer gnawed open a vein to feed. He was a civilized monster, one that made use of a utensil. With a deft slash, he severed the carotid artery in the man’s throat and sealed his lips to the wound as the blood spurted free. Andhefed.