Angel of my Dark Heart [Last Days #1.5]

December 2014

“Everything has gone to hell.”

Ever since the entire North American continent saw that meteor crossing the skies, things had been worsening little by little.

No. Things were already bad, but people didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t want to admit it.

He noticed the first signs days after his boss killed Yamaguchi Isao— the heir of the Yakuza empire. He began finding the mutilated corpses of his people. Some had even been burnt to a crisp but there was always something in common. In every one of them, the ribcage was opened and the heart missing as if it was the job of a ritualistic murderer.

And that was exactly what the police and the media started saying: that there was a ritualistic serial killer loose in the streets of New York.

His boss, Vergil Larsa, second-in-command of the Italian mob branch residing in the States, had other thoughts in the matter but he never once shared them with him.

And I bet the motherfucker knew all along what was really going on.

He sighed while his enemies crept ever closer.

“The fucking bastards don’t know when to give up, huh?” Marcus gritted his teeth as he stood back to back with Luca while four monsters surrounded them.

The blond beside him laughed.

“That’s the thing with the supernatural, they keep getting back up until you hit them with what truly hurts them.”

Marcus arched a brow. Blondie talked as if he knew about the creatures attacking or, at the very least, about the whole “monsters are real” thing. “How do you know?”

“Move aside!” someone commanded from behind the circle of creatures. The guttural shout had an otherworldly echo similar to the demons in Hollywood movies.

Luca chuckled behind Marcus. “This is going to get good,” he said before tapping the dark-haired man in the ribs with his special gun. “Here, take it. It’s magical and will kill these bastards with one shot. Just remember to drench it in blood once in a while or it will lose its power.”

Marcus was about to complain when Yamaguchi’s youngest son, Akito, stood in front of his companions with a snarl on his face. The Yakuza’s creepy black eyeballs fell upon Marcus with such hatred he felt gutted by the stare alone.

“Start shooting once I attack,” blondie whispered at his back.

He tightened his grip on the “magical” Sig Sauer as he swept his gaze over his enemy and a cocky grin curved his mouth. “Man, look at you! I’d go to a gardener to get rid of that tree growing inside if I were you.”

Akito growled and the black veins taking root beneath his sickly skin grew in length. “Italian trash. You won’t be making stupid jokes when I finish with you.” Glancing over his shoulder he ordered to his underlings, “Kill the blond but bring me the clown alive.”

In response to the Yakuza’s command, Luca summoned a large staff with a hissing snake head at the top as his eyes became pools of white light. Their enemies pounced a second before furnace hot flames came out of the snake head and the screams of gun shots filled the air.

But with every monster the men took out, two more appeared from the shadows while their boss stood behind with a smirk on his blackish lips.

Marcus grunted as he rolled over the slippery street to evade the rain of bullets. Those bastards not only had claws and greater strength, but they were using semiautomatic weapons as well. Blondie was protected by a flaming shield that incinerated anything it came in contact with but he wasn’t so lucky. He didn’t have powers nor a bulletproof vest to protect him from harm.

Damn supernaturals!

Not all of us are bad. A voice barged inside his head. Luca’s normally heavy Italian accent had an echo that sounded very Central American Latino.

How are you inside my head?

No time to explain. We can’t fight their numbers, so I’m going supernova on them.

What the hell does that mean? Marcus thought as he evaded a Yakuza’s claws, punched the bastard in the face, and shot him point-blank in the head two times. The body lost all its otherworldly features before it fell to the street.

It means there’s going to be a big explosion here and you need to get your ass moving right now.

Suddenly, Luca burned a path to a close alleyway before his eyes urged him to go a second time. Marcus hesitated.

In Vergil’s absence, he was the Family’s acting leader... and he refused to abandon a friend and co-worker at the mercy of their enemy.

“GO! I’ll be okay!” Blondie screamed and erupted a wall of fire in front of his companion to push him inside the alley.

Forced into the narrow passage, Marcus looked at the flaming wall covering his escape and sighed before sprinting away from the battlefield. The other two boys that accompanied them when the attack started were dead, but he hoped his friend didn’t share their fate. After all, Luca showed he could be resourceful.

It was half-past midnight when Tara sat at the bar table and asked the bartender for a Whiskey Sour. The incubus beamed a smile at her and finished her drink in record time before leaning against the counter.

“Looks like you finished early this time,” he said over the loud music playing.

“We had been partying since the start of the week so he’s kind of exhausted,” she answered, sipping her favorite human poison. “Plus, our contract expired half an hour ago. Believe me, he was very satisfied with my performance.”

“I don’t doubt that.” His clear aquamarine eyes swept her up and down with obvious desire. “Anyone would enjoy having a piece of your nice ass, kriest’r.”

Tara arched a blond eyebrow as she stirred her whiskey. Someone had gone too long without a good meal. “You know I don’t do demons, darling.”

“But you were an entire week with one and somehow I doubt you two were just dancing and getting drunk,” Shael said as his irises sparkled with mischievousness.

A tired breath came out of her lips and her earlier fire appeared to have been extinguished all of a sudden. “Only because the Madame,” she made air quotes when referring to her lady boss, “made me do it.”

The incubus winced as he imagined her fake smile while she tried to please her royal client. Something about her past, one she refused to reveal to him, made her skittish around demons; more so when they made sexual advances towards her.

Thanks to the Great Mother he got her to lower her guard around him! Now, that blond witch was one of his closest friends.

But man, how he wished he could taste her! Maybe it was his life energy hunger messing his head, but he wanted to feel the gorgeous form she hid under her clothes.

“Oh, come on, Shael, I can’t take more of that look!” She finished the little bit of Whiskey Sour left and hopped over the bar table to sit with her legs dangling from the bartender’s side. “Your hungry face is making me nuts,” she whispered a moment before tasting his lips.

She knew the man better than he knew himself. He didn’t desire her body but a taste of her energy. THAT she would gladly give to him as a courtesy between friends. Not that it would stop her from asking him for a favor later.

Tara’s hands went up to the back of his head, tangling her fingers around Shael’s long, brown hair as she began pouring her energy into his mouth. The incubus’ eyes widened, and he moaned against the kiss, bringing her body closer to his torso. She smirked and her irises turned golden while she gave him a little more of her energy.

This would be a night he’ll forever remember but also one he would need to keep a secret. Why? Thanks to being half-witch, she could give her vital energy willingly without it needed to be stolen through sleep or sex. So, if the Irdu Lili and Lilus— the two races of incubi— ever got wind of this... let’s just say she didn’t want to spend eternity fleeing from them.

Marcus was close to their nightclub in the heart of Queens, The Succubus, when his back was shot three times. Warm blood began coating his left ribs and shoulder while he lay stunned over the freezing alleyway street.

What had happened to him? Had someone attacked him?

Steps sounded behind him while he tried his best to get over his feet. His right arm shook beneath his weight but before he could push himself up, a hand grabbed him by the back of his neck.

“You thought you could escape from me, Italian trash?”

The Japanese accent filled Marcus’ ears before his face was brutally smashed against the street. Pain exploded all around his forehead and nose as more blood covered the dirty concrete. He grunted, feeling his lower lip split and the metallic taste fill his mouth.

Damn it, Marcus! Get it together, man. You need to shake this beast off you or he’s going to kill you here like a stray dog.

Without any warning, Akito smashed his face one more time before straightening and turning him over with his foot. “Where should I put a hole next?” he said, narrowing his slanted dark eyes over the Italian.

The black roots under his skin grew until they broke through the tips of his fingers and formed one-foot-long needles the color of onyxes.

Marcus’ color drained as he stared at the pitch-black fine spikes poised over him. “Now are you going to tell me the Hellraisers recruited you?”

“Shut the fuck up!” the Japanese screamed, elongating the needle-like root of his index finger and piercing his enemy’s abdomen, narrowly missing the right kidney. Akito smiled once he heard his victim’s moan. “Are you going to keep joking now?” he asked in a mocking tone, leaning over the wounded man.

A smirk curved Marcus’ lips. “No, I won’t,” he stated, drawing the Sig Sauer from his holster and firing the Yakuza four times in the head. One for every hole the bastard made to his body.

Akito’s dark eyes rolled up inside his skull and his body dropped heavily to the ground.

A long sigh escaped from the Italian’s lips before he tried to get over his feet once more. One. Two. It wasn’t until the third time that he managed to remain standing, helped by the tall buildings surrounding him.

Making his way to The Succubus was a trial to remain conscious as he fought the blood loss and weakness with sheer willpower. He knew that if he fell unconscious in those back alleys he would never wake again; not with so much scarlet liquid covering his body.

It appeared to pass an eternity before he arrived at the alley beside his destination. Once his eyes landed in the building’s slick, black and red form, his legs lost their strength and he fell to the street behind a tower of beer and rum boxes left for the garbage truck.

By some miracle of God, the backdoor was opened in that precise instant. It was his chance.

The first sound that came out of his mouth was a moan. The second sounded like a monster but had the desired effect. Footsteps came his way before he heard a feminine gasp. He lifted his head weakly and his brown eyes widened at the sight before him.

It was her. Tara.

The woman in question crouched beside his body and her amber eyes swept him up and down. “Marcus? Is that you?”

“Tary,” the man whispered weakly before fainting.

OMG! It truly is him!

She brought a hand to her lips as she stared at the male before her. His dark hair was cropped short in a military-style and a lot of blood covered his tanned skin.

Marcus Di’nardo.

The mortal who broke her heart.

“It’s always like this with you, right?” Tara whispered, caressing his hair as the memories broke free of the secure vault she had locked them in.

She bandaged him countless times in the past and now…

No.

She shook her head before standing and giving him her back. She wouldn’t fall for the same tricks. Not again. Not when she had cried for years after he disappeared.

Tara took a step away from the heartless man that lay bleeding over the cold ground, and then another, and another. Tears began spilling down her cheeks. He would never have abandoned her like she was doing to him.

«I won’t let anyone hurt you, Tary.»

But you did.

His broken promise hurt more than the actual abandonment. It fanned the flames burning her heart until she was left with nothing but the ashes.

No. She shouldn’t help him. She shouldn’t…

But he’s going to die.

“Damn you, Lilith!”

Biting her lower lip, she turned around and walked straight to the wounded man. Her mother hadn’t raised her to be a heartless bitch.