Chapter Twenty-Six
Rage.
Driving, blinding, rage consumed him, all the more frustrating as he spent it uselessly. Asherik lashed out without thought for consequences. No longer content with the company of shadows, he struck again and again in full view of any who happened by. A shock of blonde hair or a flash of blue eyes was all it took to trigger his wrath. To any that reminded him of the reaper who’d stolen all from him, he meted out the punishment deserved.
Death.
But neither the snap of bones nor the last gurgling screams touched the core of sadness that gripped his heart.
He’d lost her.
Had her in his grasp and then lost her.
“Love me,” he commanded the next pretty face who hurried past, gratified to see her eyes widen in bliss as his sway took hold. Ignoring the blood staining his hands and clothes, and the seedy pallor of his current form, the woman pressed herself against him, warm and willing. This was what it was supposed to be, he thought, as he drank deeply of what she offered.
Why couldn’t she love him?
Ash let the woman lead him to her sad little hovel, delighting in the sag of the decrepit mattress as she all but threw him back against the bed in her eagerness. Losing himself in the softness of skin and tangle of hair, he fancied they were her hands tearing at his clothes. It was long red hair wrapped around his fist instead of black, and soft brown eyes that stared up at him, filled with love, not vacant blue ones.
“Jesus, honey, don’t make me beg,” the woman whined, her voice high and nasal. The spell broken, Asherik looked down to see not the lush mouth of his lady love, but a gap toothed, come hither smile. All at once she seemed repellent to him, old and broken. Like the last time, he found he couldn’t perform.
“What’s the matter, baby?” Her hands groped against unwilling flesh. “Can’t get it up? I can fix that.”
“Get off,” he shoved her against the wall.
“I’m trying to,” she giggled. “Let me show you what I can do.”
“I said get off.” There was a crack as her head hit the wall and Ash knew he’d broken her. Why should he care when he was broken himself? What had she reduced him to when he couldn’t be a man anymore?
Even the solace of dreams held no allure. The reaper wouldn’t leave her unattended again; Ash couldn’t hope to find her through dreams any longer. There were magics known to him, powerful spells, but nothing he tried brought him any closer to finding her. His enemy had to be shielding her from him somehow. But the reaper would slip up. He would fail and Asherik would be ready.
An idea came to him then, simple enough to execute; humans were easy to mislead. Regretting now his earlier violence, he set out to choose the perfect host. The body that would lead to the reaper’s downfall.