widened. Mouth parted. She stepped back. A retreat.
Another sound erupted from him. This one different. A warning.
The queen didn’t listen.
Without thought, his arm swung up from his body then out in a wide arc.
Blood splattered. Two large pieces thumped to the floor.
More laughter.
But it was his.
No, not his. He wasn’t . . . him.
Sarid stared with his red vision at the voodoo queen, dead on the floor. What was this? How could this be?
He lifted his arms. Stared at the hard, scaled skin. The long, sharp claws.
The master had made sure he would never touch another female again.
Body and nails of a beast.
What was he?
Strong. We are strong. And we’ll no longer play the victim.
The voice was not his, but Sarid wasn’t scared.
The queen was dead. He—and the thing that he now was—had killed her.
He’d willed his mind to feel anything but what it did. To be afraid of his soon-to-be hanging for killing the woman. Dread at the master’s return. Panic at what the scales and claws meant.
But he had felt none of those. Only joy. The queen had died, and he’d been happy about it.
Pastor Ken’s voice brought Sarid back to the present.
“Do you not follow the Creator? Do you not fight under His name every single night?” The questions shot out, one right after the other. His tone almost harsh.
The demon lifted his head, but made no other movement. Sarid studied the man across from him. “Are you . . . angry?”
Glasses pushed to his forehead, the choghen rubbed his eyes, then placed the frames back on his nose. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have gotten upset.” He stayed silent for a moment, then, “Why are you telling me this? Why didn’t you just do it?”
“I hoped you could help me get ready.”
“Do you know what I think? You want me to change your mind. If your decision was firm, the deed would already be done.”
Sarid was shaking his head before the choghen finished. “There’s a woman,” he started then stopped.
The pastor’s eyebrows rose. “A woman?”
He nodded.
When Sarid said nothing else, the choghen asked, “Where did you meet her?”
“In the hospital. When I was brought in.”
The pastor paused, then inhaled quickly. “Is she still alive?”
“Yes. Though if the Other gains control . . . Do you remember your sermon from last week?”
“I do.”
“‘The biggest way to blow your spiritual potential is to do your own will.’ That’s what I’ve been doing all these years. I’ve been selfish. Do you know how many deaths, deaths of innocents, I’ve witnessed over the years? Thousands. Thousands of the Creator’s Followers murdered because I was too selfish to end our life.”
“Perhaps the Creator called those souls home. Using the Other as the instrument as opposed to illness or a car crash or some natural disaster? The desire to live is not selfish, Sarid,” the pastor said softly. “The Creator gave you life. It’s something to rejoice in, be thankful for. Yes, your cross is heavier than most, but that doesn’t mean you give up.” He paused. “Maybe there’s a way to remove the Other—”
Sarid’s hand cut through the air. “There’s not. I’ve already tried. Our souls are entwined. If one of us dies, the other will die as well.”
The choghen fell silent.
“You know I’m right. My life is not more important than any other Follower.”
“Have you discussed this with Cade? Elias?”
“No. I’m discussing it with you.”
“Don’t they have a right to know? To offer an opinion? Objection?”
“No.”
“Will you wait? Four weeks?” The pastor spoke rapidly. Moved to the edge of his chair.
“For what purpose?” Sarid shook his head. “No. It’s too risky.”
“What’s the shortest time you’ve had between an Other appearance?”
He thought about it. “Fifteen days.”
“So you can wait fifteen days, then.”
He frowned. “Again, for what purpose?”
“You came to me for preparation, yes? So, you come to me
Another sound erupted from him. This one different. A warning.
The queen didn’t listen.
Without thought, his arm swung up from his body then out in a wide arc.
Blood splattered. Two large pieces thumped to the floor.
More laughter.
But it was his.
No, not his. He wasn’t . . . him.
Sarid stared with his red vision at the voodoo queen, dead on the floor. What was this? How could this be?
He lifted his arms. Stared at the hard, scaled skin. The long, sharp claws.
The master had made sure he would never touch another female again.
Body and nails of a beast.
What was he?
Strong. We are strong. And we’ll no longer play the victim.
The voice was not his, but Sarid wasn’t scared.
The queen was dead. He—and the thing that he now was—had killed her.
He’d willed his mind to feel anything but what it did. To be afraid of his soon-to-be hanging for killing the woman. Dread at the master’s return. Panic at what the scales and claws meant.
But he had felt none of those. Only joy. The queen had died, and he’d been happy about it.
Pastor Ken’s voice brought Sarid back to the present.
“Do you not follow the Creator? Do you not fight under His name every single night?” The questions shot out, one right after the other. His tone almost harsh.
The demon lifted his head, but made no other movement. Sarid studied the man across from him. “Are you . . . angry?”
Glasses pushed to his forehead, the choghen rubbed his eyes, then placed the frames back on his nose. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have gotten upset.” He stayed silent for a moment, then, “Why are you telling me this? Why didn’t you just do it?”
“I hoped you could help me get ready.”
“Do you know what I think? You want me to change your mind. If your decision was firm, the deed would already be done.”
Sarid was shaking his head before the choghen finished. “There’s a woman,” he started then stopped.
The pastor’s eyebrows rose. “A woman?”
He nodded.
When Sarid said nothing else, the choghen asked, “Where did you meet her?”
“In the hospital. When I was brought in.”
The pastor paused, then inhaled quickly. “Is she still alive?”
“Yes. Though if the Other gains control . . . Do you remember your sermon from last week?”
“I do.”
“‘The biggest way to blow your spiritual potential is to do your own will.’ That’s what I’ve been doing all these years. I’ve been selfish. Do you know how many deaths, deaths of innocents, I’ve witnessed over the years? Thousands. Thousands of the Creator’s Followers murdered because I was too selfish to end our life.”
“Perhaps the Creator called those souls home. Using the Other as the instrument as opposed to illness or a car crash or some natural disaster? The desire to live is not selfish, Sarid,” the pastor said softly. “The Creator gave you life. It’s something to rejoice in, be thankful for. Yes, your cross is heavier than most, but that doesn’t mean you give up.” He paused. “Maybe there’s a way to remove the Other—”
Sarid’s hand cut through the air. “There’s not. I’ve already tried. Our souls are entwined. If one of us dies, the other will die as well.”
The choghen fell silent.
“You know I’m right. My life is not more important than any other Follower.”
“Have you discussed this with Cade? Elias?”
“No. I’m discussing it with you.”
“Don’t they have a right to know? To offer an opinion? Objection?”
“No.”
“Will you wait? Four weeks?” The pastor spoke rapidly. Moved to the edge of his chair.
“For what purpose?” Sarid shook his head. “No. It’s too risky.”
“What’s the shortest time you’ve had between an Other appearance?”
He thought about it. “Fifteen days.”
“So you can wait fifteen days, then.”
He frowned. “Again, for what purpose?”
“You came to me for preparation, yes? So, you come to me
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