The Devil's Angel (Devil Series Book 2) by Rachel McClellan Page A
Authors: Rachel McClellan
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opening and closing his hands tightly. His jaw muscles bulged, then he slammed his fist through the side of the house, leaving a gaping hole of twisted metal siding and splintered wood. This was over.
For the first time in weeks, he walked away and didn’t look back.
Chapter 9
It was easy for Lucien to avoid thinking about Eve. For the first few days anyway, then it was all he could think about. Anger consumed him, and he needed to find a way to release it before he hurt someone.
Lucien knew of a place, an underground party house on the outside of town. And it wasn’t a bar humans were aware of, at least not the good ones. He avoided it whenever possible, but after days of pent-up rage, he craved the darkness it held within its walls.
From the outside, the home looked like a regular farmhouse. A place a good family would live in. It was white with blue trimmed windows. The lawn was cut short, and a white picket fence bordered the front yard.
He’d come across this place by accident after following a man named Jax a few years ago, thanks to an address John had given him. At first Lucien had every intention of killing Jax on sight, but there was something odd about him.
Jax was well dressed and drove a nice car, but he moved unnaturally as if a babe learning to walk. His movements were methodical, even the simple ones like opening a car door. He did everything in steps.
Step one: Look at door.
Step two: Reach for door.
Step three: Open door.
Step four: Get inside car.
Step five: Close door.
It was as if he was incapable of moving smoothly, and it was unsettling to watch. But what was even more unsettling was the fact that the man’s heartbeat was sporadic. It would beat fast for several seconds and then stop for minutes. A moment later, it would pick right back up again in its unusual pattern.
When Jax had disappeared into the nice, yet simple home all those years ago, Lucien was hesitant to follow. There were sounds coming from within that didn’t make sense. There were heartbeats, lots of them, but not a single one beat regularly. He couldn’t even detect a regular breathing pattern. There also weren’t any lights on, not even the occasional flashing of one.
Eventually, curiosity got the best of Lucien, and he slipped inside. The entry way was neat but dusty. An old curio, looked early 19th century, was pressed against the wall. It too was covered in dust. To his right was a living room. Pale couches, an old piano, a Queen Anne chair. None of it had been used in a long time.
The only evidence of people was a worn walking path through the dust on the floor. Lucien followed it to a narrow entry leading to the basement. The smell wafting up was a mixture of alcohol and road kill.
Something had felt very wrong about the basement, but he went anyway because Jax’s name had been given to him. One way or another, Jax had to die.
Lucien descended the steps, the temperature dropping dramatically.
The walls around him were built with gray cinderblocks that contained more spiders than he dared count. At the bottom of the stairs, the basement opened up significantly. The back half of the room had been dug out and around supporting columns, making the room almost four times the size of the house above. A string of red lights hung from one end of the room to the other, giving the space an eerie crimson glow.
There were at least thirty men and women all of whom were either drinking, smoking, or shooting-up. They moved as strangely as Jax had, in calculated, almost jerky movements. Toward the back of the room, the people’s appearance began to change. Their skin was whitish in color and several of them were in the process of losing their hair, if they hadn’t already. They wore very little clothing upon their bodies, which no longer looked quite human. They looked like—Lucien shook his head.
Impossible
.
Someone tugged on his shoulder from behind. Lucien turned around.
“Your kind is not welcome here,”
For the first time in weeks, he walked away and didn’t look back.
Chapter 9
It was easy for Lucien to avoid thinking about Eve. For the first few days anyway, then it was all he could think about. Anger consumed him, and he needed to find a way to release it before he hurt someone.
Lucien knew of a place, an underground party house on the outside of town. And it wasn’t a bar humans were aware of, at least not the good ones. He avoided it whenever possible, but after days of pent-up rage, he craved the darkness it held within its walls.
From the outside, the home looked like a regular farmhouse. A place a good family would live in. It was white with blue trimmed windows. The lawn was cut short, and a white picket fence bordered the front yard.
He’d come across this place by accident after following a man named Jax a few years ago, thanks to an address John had given him. At first Lucien had every intention of killing Jax on sight, but there was something odd about him.
Jax was well dressed and drove a nice car, but he moved unnaturally as if a babe learning to walk. His movements were methodical, even the simple ones like opening a car door. He did everything in steps.
Step one: Look at door.
Step two: Reach for door.
Step three: Open door.
Step four: Get inside car.
Step five: Close door.
It was as if he was incapable of moving smoothly, and it was unsettling to watch. But what was even more unsettling was the fact that the man’s heartbeat was sporadic. It would beat fast for several seconds and then stop for minutes. A moment later, it would pick right back up again in its unusual pattern.
When Jax had disappeared into the nice, yet simple home all those years ago, Lucien was hesitant to follow. There were sounds coming from within that didn’t make sense. There were heartbeats, lots of them, but not a single one beat regularly. He couldn’t even detect a regular breathing pattern. There also weren’t any lights on, not even the occasional flashing of one.
Eventually, curiosity got the best of Lucien, and he slipped inside. The entry way was neat but dusty. An old curio, looked early 19th century, was pressed against the wall. It too was covered in dust. To his right was a living room. Pale couches, an old piano, a Queen Anne chair. None of it had been used in a long time.
The only evidence of people was a worn walking path through the dust on the floor. Lucien followed it to a narrow entry leading to the basement. The smell wafting up was a mixture of alcohol and road kill.
Something had felt very wrong about the basement, but he went anyway because Jax’s name had been given to him. One way or another, Jax had to die.
Lucien descended the steps, the temperature dropping dramatically.
The walls around him were built with gray cinderblocks that contained more spiders than he dared count. At the bottom of the stairs, the basement opened up significantly. The back half of the room had been dug out and around supporting columns, making the room almost four times the size of the house above. A string of red lights hung from one end of the room to the other, giving the space an eerie crimson glow.
There were at least thirty men and women all of whom were either drinking, smoking, or shooting-up. They moved as strangely as Jax had, in calculated, almost jerky movements. Toward the back of the room, the people’s appearance began to change. Their skin was whitish in color and several of them were in the process of losing their hair, if they hadn’t already. They wore very little clothing upon their bodies, which no longer looked quite human. They looked like—Lucien shook his head.
Impossible
.
Someone tugged on his shoulder from behind. Lucien turned around.
“Your kind is not welcome here,”
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