A thousand humble apologies to everyone who was following this story! I'm mortified that I didn't realise I hadn't finished! I have no excuses other than life, the universe and everything and woefully beg your forgiveness
I have the last two chapters ready and will update the last one as soon as I've done a few corrections ;) Please, please bear with me and thank you once again for following my little tale
The smell of wood varnish and incense slowly pulled Doyle back to the brink of consciousness. He shifted his head, still dazed, and was only rewarded by a pounding in his skull and the contents of his stomach churning. Thankfully the nausea subsided slightly as he woke, enough for his to be able to crack open his heavy lids and try to work out what in the name of St. Paddy was going on.
Something flickered to his right and he reluctantly let his eyes open further, taking in the candles that were scattered about the room. It struck him as funny somehow that, number one, Angel had so many candles in the first place and number two, they weren't yet causing a major fire hazard.
The movement brought his attention to his current state; lying in the middle of the hardwood floor in the semi-darkness with strange bony-looking objects strewn haphazardly around him. The pair of sais that usually adorned Angels' wall were now driven firmed into the floor, the pronged instruments effectively pinning his wrists down and the heavy feeling in his legs led him to believe they were restrained in a similar fashion.
He tried to suppress the rising panic he felt in his chest, images of the previous victims they had uncovered racing, in all graphic detail, through his mind. As the thoughts came and went, he realised just how loud his gasping was and so Yeva's presence above was hardly a shock, but boy, he was sure it looked like one.
She grinned at him; "Comfy?" There was no demon face, no flashing eyes or fangs, just a homely pretty face, almost looking concerned. "Can I get you anything?"
"Yeah, how about a scotch…and maybe a stake?" He hoped his weak threat wouldn't result in her putting her boot through his head, but it was worth a cheap shot after all.
"Silly boy, I'm not a vampire!" she laughed – a high-pitched girlish giggle that sent shivers up and down his spine.
"No?" A lump has formed in his throat.
"No, I'm much more interesting" She moved away from his head and picked up one of the dustier books from the couch.
Doyle knew that whatever she had found in that tome couldn't be good for him and so used to only weapon to hand; his mouth, "Really? Interesting, you say? In what way?"
"You'll find out" She whispered, already lost in the pages of the book.
So much for that idea…
She turned away from him as his eyes began scanning for some desperate way out, her voice echoing off the walls, "I'm so glad we decided to research after all, or I never would have found it" She was caressing the pages like a childhood memento, her bound prisoner forgotten for the moment.
"Found what exactly?" The lump in his throat had gotten larger and he was finding it hard to breathe thanks to his rising panic.
"My scripture!" She rolled her eyes, like it was the silliest question in the world. "The scripture Angel lost! I was rather annoyed at that!"
His mouth continued to response to her, unaware that his brain was screaming at him to shut up. "Understandable" That time his wasn't able to keep the tremble from his voice and she caught it; giving him a look of a comforting friend.
"Now, now, don't get upset. It's just the way things are sometimes." For a second there was a look of love and affection on her face before it melted away, revealing cold malice, "Doesn't mean we can't have some fun though, before your friends get back." She moved to stand at his side, placing the book on the nearby coffee table and began pouring a dark brackish looking liquid around him, leaving a glistening circle.
The chanting began so quietly he wasn't even sure it was real, but by and by it got louder, strange words uttered in a long dead tongue. As Yeva moved, some suspicious looking liquids and powders were scattered about, mixing with the incense that already hung heavy in the air.
Doyle's nerves began to overwhelm him and he found himself trying to reason with the petite demon hovering over him, "Any chance we can talk about this? I mean, we were getting along weren't we? Found a connection? You said we were so alike!"
The panic etched in his face must have rung a note with his captor and she appeared to finish her mutterings for the moment. She stepped inside the circle, legs straddling his body and stared down at him, that cold, vicious smile remaining.
She leaned in close and spoke in soft tone, "We are. We were both raised as one thing and found out we were another. You, a human who's become a demon and me, the demon who found humanity all too appealing. You see, I was once one of those 'pure-blood' fanatics, a potential future member of the Scourge. But a chance encounter with a little known and rarely seen hybrid species left me with more humanity than most could handle. At first I was disgusted with myself, ashamed of what it had made me. But over time I grew stronger on it, the perception of the humans allowing me pleasures not known to my kind. It was ecstasy Doyle, pure ecstasy. So when it began to fade, I was devastated. My family was relieved of course but I knew I could never go back to what I was, so I left home to reclaim what I'd lost."
The story was making Doyle's rising nausea all the more urgent.
"You sucked it out of them." He whispered, "Their human side sustains yours so you drained it from them, didn't you?" Her widening grin told him the answer and his swallowed again, "And I'm next."