Death Lord

1 BELIAL I n New Orleans, very little separated the living from the dead. Tombs sat above ground in the dozens of cemeteries across the city, where visitors left daily offerings to appease the restless spirits. Songs of the dead echoed through the French Quarter, telling the story of the city’s violent, tragic past. Tourists flocked to ghost tours and combed abandoned buildings, hoping to get a glimpse of the supernatural. If only they knew how close Death truly was. From the rooftops, I watched my prey move through the alleys below, blending into the darkness almost perfectly. The only thing that gave him away were the scuffs of his shoes along the pavement, and the occasional flicker of his shadow over a lighter patch of alley. I followed along the edge of the building above him without making a sound, my form cloaked in darkness. He carried on, unaware that he was being stalked by something far worse than him. Death was already in the air—I could taste it on my tongue like a familiar, intoxicating drink. It grew stronger by the minute, and I knew I’d only have so much time before I’d have to act. Because he would act soon. My stomach clenched, empty and wanting. Unnatural hunger burned inside me, a pounding need that had to be fulfilled. I had to feed soon…or else. The man stopped in a patch of light and I got my first good look at him. He was on the shorter side for a modern-day male, with tawny hair that looked messy and a long nose that defined his face. He glanced around as if checking to make sure he was still alone, but he never thought to look up, still oblivious to the danger above him. He had no idea that Death stalked the streets of New Orleans alongside him, searching for the next doomed soul to consume. He slid into an alley with intermittent, flickering lights, where a shape slumped against the wall. The shape stirred and croaked out words too quiet for me to hear. A dirty hand came up, peeking out of blankets, asking for a handout. The man I’d been following sneered and towered over the helpless human, and I knew it was time. I jumped across the rooftop to the next building, landing softly. The tang of magic filled the air as the man changed into a large bobcat, revealing his true nature as a shifter—a type of demon representing the sin of wrath. He snarled and the human screamed, trying to get away as the bobcat readied to pounce, fangs bared. I dropped down from the roof in a swirl of darkness, my cloak fluttering behind me, my hood concealing my face. I landed directly between the shifter and the human, just as the bobcat lunged. I knocked him back with a blast of darkness, and he hit the wall on the other side of the alley with a sickening crack. But that wasn’t enough to kill a shifter. He recovered fast, back leg lifted in a limp, and his eyes widened at the sight of me—and then he ran. Of course he did. Disgust curled my lip. This was the third person he’d attacked in as many days, but this time I was here to stop him before he left another body behind. I summoned Ghost, my horse, who appeared out of the shadows, bowing his pale head as he approached. I mounted him easily and we took off after the bobcat, racing down the dark alleys across cobblestones and cement, a mix of new and old. A rush of adrenaline flowed through my veins at the chase, and the promise of what was to come—because there was no escaping Death. In his panic, the shifter ran into a dead end, and I cornered him against a wall. As I leaped off of Ghost’s back, the shifter returned to his human form in a swirl of magic. I gestured for Ghost to vanish again as I stalked toward my prey. “No…” he muttered, his eyes wide as he looked up at me. “It’s you…” “I see my reputation precedes me,” I said in a low voice. “Please, spare me,” he gasped out. “Like you were going to spare that man back there?” My hand snaked out of my cloak to grab hold of the shifter’s throat and I lifted him up in the air. “I think not.” At my touch, life began draining from the shifter into me. He choked, scrabbling uselessly at my arm as I tightened my grip. His power flowed into me, sating that deep, aching hunger that plagued me constantly. I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, relishing the brief moment of peace. Something cold and painful plunged into my back, and I jerked my head to look over my shoulder. An ice spear protruded from my cloak. What the f**k? I dropped the bobcat shifter, who collapsed onto the ground in a heap, too weak to do anything for the moment. Whoever had interrupted my feeding was going to pay for it. I reached around and grasped the spear, gritting my teeth as I pulled it out of my shoulder and shattered it in my hand. When I looked in the direction of where the spear must have come from, I spotted a woman standing about twenty feet away. My breath caught as we locked gazes, not only because she was gorgeous, but because her pale blue eyes burned with a deep, fiery hatred that contradicted her icy powers. Pure white hair flowed down her back, and she wore all black leather that looked like it was made for combat. She lifted her hands up and magic hummed in the air as her ice hit me like a brick wall. I brushed it aside with a flick of power, and she bared her teeth, her fingers lengthening into claws. Great, another shifter. These two must be working together, which meant they both had to die. Fine with me. My appetite was insatiable and I could feed all night long, especially if it meant getting other murderers off my streets.