Til It Bleeds

’Til it Bleeds Stephanie Burke All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2008 Stephanie Burke

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ISBN: 978-1-60521-063-6

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Editor: Katriena Knights

Cover Artist: Kassie Thrace

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’Til it Bleeds Stephanie Burke Darkness, demonic possession, the gates of hell threaten to open, and evil threatens to rise over the land… in Ohio. The Hands of Fate, a pair of ancient relics with untold power, have gone missing, and it’s up to a special pair of operatives to recover them. The Guild has assigned their best bonded fighting unit, Faith and Vice, to recover the legendary Hands from a scheming under-investigator seduced by their dark power. But with summoned demons, power hungry humans, and maybe even the Guild itself standing in the way, the two men have an unrelenting fight on their hands. A fight to save an undeserving humanity from itself, protect the innocents they are sworn to save, and uncover the dangerous truths hidden deep within the hearts of the Guild, all while holding their own inner demons under tight rein -- demons driven by lust and blood hunger, and only satiated by each other. To succeed, and to save the world, they may have to fight -- ’Til It Bleeds, and beyond.

Chapter One “Why don’t you just calm the fuck down?” Faith was not amused. He sat back against the far wall, away from the carminecolored… ick… that now liberally spattered the shiny hardwood floors and the once pale cream walls. He crossed his legs and took a harder toke on the unfiltered cigarette that he had rolled up before coming to this devil’s arsehole of a city. His black eyes held a slight tint of red, showing that he himself had calmed, even if his partner had not. “You know,” he said, “we still have to walk out of this shit-hole, and it’s still broad daylight.” “But… but it makes such pretty colors, Faith.” Vice spoke softly, his voice resonating with the child-like quality that showed he was not fully in his right mind. It was one of the reasons the Guild had almost declared him unmatchable and unsuitable to breathe the same good, fresh air as the rest of their engineered freaks. He smiled up at Faith, his arms painted black nearly to his elbows with the spilled blood and other fluids of their victims. “They get darker and darker…” His pale eyes shone brightly with glee, his face painted in a gruesome caricature of war paint, the browns and reds of human blood drying and flaking as he turned to stare fully into his partner’s face. But as Faith took another toke and frowned at him, the unholy light that gave Vice such an eerie appearance began to fade from his eyes. Rolling his eyes, Vice rose to his feet, his hands raking gore-stiffened strands of hair back from his face, exposing the dark brand that encircled his left eye. “You are no fucking fun.”

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“You just smeared that shit all over your damn hair,” Faith reminded him, “and before you even think about getting fucked again, you had better wash that shit off. Vice, this shit ain’t funny, man. And you weren’t screaming I was no fun last night. In fact, it sounded more like, ‘Oh, oh, more,’ and, ‘Don’t stop’.” “Sex is not fun.” Vice stared at the entrails and other freshly exposed organ bits that coated his arms and hands and curled his nose up in disgust. “Sex is serious business.” He flung his hands outwards, barely missing Faith with a thick spray of gore. “This shit…” He curled his upper lip, exposing a gleaming white fang. “…this shit is the fun stuff.” “And you just fell off your fucking rocker.” Faith rose to his feet, looking down at his full-length black trench coat, checking for blood spatter. “Our time is almost up. The clean-up crew will be here soon, and they don’t take too kindly to getting their food pre-chewed for them.” “Fucking scavengers.” Vice snarled again before stepping around the three bodies that littered the floor. “Hey, they do a damn good job.” Faith pinched out the red ember still glowing on the butt of his cigarette and pocketed it before reaching for another. “And for every job --” “There’s the perfect tool.” Vice stripped off his bloody shirt and used it to wipe the worst of the spillage from his face and hair. He looked down at the stained shirt, then tossed it into the pile of organs that he’d harvested with his bare hands. “So what’s next?” “Home and a feeding frenzy,” Faith dictated, rising to his full height and scanning the room one last time. “Who would ever think that a bunch of society ladies were trying to raise demons? They were the perfect fodder.” “Not just any old demons.” Vice reached for his own black leather jacket and donned it over his bare chest. “Lust demons.” He looked down at the grisly remains and kicked a head to the side. “Stupid cunts. Playing with shit they have no idea about, toying in shit that’s better off left alone…”

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“And they got us.” Faith walked over to grip his partner by the forearm. “And now, if we have the incantations…” “Have them.” Vice patted his jacket pocket, the same jacket he’d removed prior to the slaughter to ensure that no blood fell on the spelled pages inside. “And all signs of the ceremony have been wiped?” “Oh, hell, yeah.” Vice grinned as he took in the portion of the floor he himself had hacked up with his broadsword and fed into the fire, a fire that had been started by using two out of three of the unfortunate ladies’ hair. “Then our work here is done.” Faith turned to face the door. “And you know, because you went overboard -- again -- you won’t be going with me back to the safehouse.” “I know, I know,” Vice chuckled. “The underground.” “And if I hear any reports of a red-headed demon roaming the sewers…” “You’ll spank me.” Vice smiled, licking his lips and tossing a wink at Faith’s back. “I saw that,” came the droll reply. “And I’ll not only spank you, I won’t fuck you afterwards.” Then, almost like a shadow, Faith seemed to dissolve into thin air, ghosting through the house and leaving not so much as the smell of his pungent cigarettes behind. “Likely story,” Vice laughed, and then he, too, ghosted through the house, leaving no trace of his passing. It wasn’t a skill that they could hold for long, but it would hold long enough for them to leave the house and its immediate vicinity. Getting home safely -- well, that was up to him. But he grinned again, feral, showing off his fangs. No matter what Faith said, he knew his partner would be right behind him, watching his back and ensuring his safe return. They had a thing like that, a relationship that was often viewed with disgust and horror as well as awe and envy. The Guild had no idea what to make of this extremely

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close bonding of two of their knights, but it served all of their needs well. Faith and Vice made up one of their more successful extermination units. They had trained together, served together, and had been bound in all of the traditions of the Guild and their predecessors, who first created the hybrid demon children. Their close bond was only matched by their success rate. They never missed a target, and they never left a job unfinished, never got caught. Of course there were restrictions. You never set a feral dog loose without a leash, and the chains holding them to the Guild were almost as powerful as the bonds that held them to each other. As Vice made his way down to the sewer system to rematerialize, no thoughts of the chains that bound them came into his mind. His desire for battle, for carnage, had been realized. Now he needed to feed. And the one person who could satisfy all of his hungers trailed him lazily, clouding the minds of all who caught a glimpse of him. He quickened his step, moving toward their temporary shelter where the presence of his partner, his mate, would surely make it feel like home.

*** “Oh, my God, do that again!” Vice threw back his head, his long red hair whipping about the shower cubicle as his nails scraped against the wet tile. His eyes were squeezed shut, and a loud, rapturous moan rolled up from his throat. He chewed at his bottom lip, piercing the full, pink flesh with his fangs, paying no attention as his blood flowed down his chest to mingle with the red-tinted water that ran off his body and flowed down the drain. A deep, dark chuckle from behind only served to make his body shudder harder, spirals of desire rolling up and down his spine. His cock, already stimulated from being so close to his mate, began to harden further, its purple head peeking out from its fleshy cowl. “Faith,” he moaned, his knees wobbling as he felt his mate’s tongue penetrate him further. There on his knees, Faith chuckled again, spreading the pert, rounded

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cheeks of Vice’s ass further apart, exposing more of his hole for a deeper tongue exploration. Faith’s large hands trailed up and down his lover’s thighs, feeling the thick muscles quiver at his touch, felt how slick the passing water made his skin, felt the pent-up energy coursing through his body. “Come on!” Vice demanded, looking back over his shoulder -- nearly breaking his neck to do so -- to stare at the man kneeling behind him. Faith’s usual braided cornrows were undone, his long, pitch-black hair surrounding his shoulders in dripping wet curls and waves. His darker skin seemed to make Vice’s lighter flesh glow where the lovers touched. Vice moaned as that barbed tongue delved deeper into his ass, tickling the sensitive nerves there, sending fire shooting through his veins. He felt his balls tingle and tighten, his cock drooling thick slick precum -- hell, even the end of his nose was twitching. His inner beast loved this kind of play, loved being served and pampered, and his lover was an expert at making his beast happy. “God,” he groaned. “You… gonna… Fuck, Faith! I’m gonna come!” He moaned in loss as his partner pulled away, licking at the winking lips of his ass, pressing a small kiss there before running his tongue along his trench. “No, you will not,” Faith growled, his own beast coming to the forefront. “You are not going to blow until I let you.” “Bastard,” Vice hissed, then dropped his forehead to the wet tiles of the shower wall as Faith sank two fingers in deep. “You know you need this,” he breathed, rising to his feet, licking the drops of water from Vice’s long, smooth back. “You know that your beast and my own would never be satisfied with anything less than total sensory explosion.” Vice nodded, knowing that his lover spoke true, but damning the fact that the beast refused immediate gratification. It would only be a tease to his pet demon. The damn thing wanted a sensual smorgasbord every time they fucked. And Faith’s little bastard wasn’t much better.

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Vice felt his fingertips vibrate and tingle as his nails darkened and slowly lengthened into curled claws. They scratched at the tile, scoring it with their sharpness, as Faith prepared him, twisted his fingers to get his anal muscles to open. “Let me in,” Faith growled as he bit at Vice’s neck, his sharp teeth parting the flesh, drawing his sweet, black blood. “Open for me.” His free hand reached up to tangle in Vice’s blood-red hair, fisting the silky strands tightly, pulling his head back, exposing his neck. “Yes,” Vice grumbled in response, his voice dropping several octaves, his eyes glowing white and wild. “Yes, open me up… Fuck me, Faith!” “Shh,” Faith purred. “Soon.” Faith pressed his fingers deeper, feeling around for that small gland that would make his mate howl in pleasure. “Faith!” Vice whined, fire coursing through his veins as he strained to get more of that feeling, to get more of his partner deep inside his body. “Two fingers,” Faith growled in Vice’s ear, nipping and licking at his neck. “Two fingers, Vice. We need three.” “Then hurry!” Vice gasped, his head dropping, his moans filling the shower stall. “So hungry!” His hips arched back, his anal walls twitching and clasping at the fingers that probed him, his cock hard and leaking. Faith’s hand released his hair, traveled down his chest to pinch and pull at his swollen nipples, before dropping to encircle his hard prick. “Faith!” Vice wailed, thrusting into his partner’s hand, his breathing erratic and loud. He felt his partner’s barbed tongue, the tongue of the beast, scraping at the sensitive spots on his neck. He willingly threw back his head in supplication. The needs of his beast and his own hunger combined to drive out all thoughts of pride. Only the fierce hunger, the desire, the need, remained. The third finger was a bit of a burn and stretch, but it was a burn that Vice relished. “Yeah,” he breathed, his eyes sliding shut. He knew that soon fulfillment would be at hand. “More.”

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“Soon,” Faith moaned, shuddering at the feel of the tight embrace his partner’s hole had on his fingers. His own dark erection was throbbing, its purple head eagerly seeking out its place of paradise, deep within his mate. His cock, at times, had a mind of its own. It was all part of his beast, the lust and hunger buried within him. It was something they both accepted. Faith’s beast was a horny bastard, and Vice’s beast was driving him insane, yet they both managed to make it work. “Soon, baby. Can’t hold out.” Faith’s velvety voice had dropped, the growl obvious as his beast slowly began to take control. That was why he always made sure his partner was so well-prepared. Who knew what the beast would do when its full hunger was upon him? In response, Vice snarled, his spine going rigid as his mating brand began to glow. “It -- it’s coming,” he breathed, then roared as his control snapped, and his beast fully emerged. “Damn it,” Faith hissed, his own beast tearing at his control as it sensed its counterpart’s freedom. He closed his eyes as he felt his own eye ridges erupt, his fangs extend to their furthest, and his own mating brand throb and burn across his back. He pulled his fingers from his mate’s pucker, his mind swirling with images of lust and perversion, and let himself go. “Faith!” Vice wailed, bucking up as his partner shoved him further down and his clawed hands gripped the cheeks of Vice’s ass and spread him wide. He froze as he felt the hot, slick head of his mate’s cock run along his ass trench, as his mate’s powerful fangs clamped onto the back of his neck, forcing his body into stillness. Then there was the quick burn, the slight pain as his body accepted the cock that was breaching him deep, filling him like no one and nothing else ever could. The tiles screamed and cracked under the force of his claw-like nails. His knees trembled, and his body burned. Faith was deep inside him, throbbing, feeding a hunger that had nearly driven him over the edge. “Vice,” Faith growled, his voice animalistic as he struggled to complete the connection. His partner needed sex and blood to fully heal, and Faith would do

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everything in his power to see that this healing was done. With the last of his coherence, he released his partner’s throbbing dick and slid his arm up to Vice’s mouth. Quick as a snake, Vice latched on, his fangs sinking deep. He moaned as he began to gulp down the rich, black blood. His hips began to grind against the meaty pole that filled him. Throwing back his own head and snarling at the pleasure-pain growing within him, Faith began to pump his hips. He howled as his partner’s slick heat tightened around him… then he knew no more. The beast was fully in control. His body rutted at his mate’s, slamming his cock as deep as it could go, tearing mewls from his partner’s throat, making Vice’s body arch and dance beneath his. Vice was aware that his partner’s blood filled his mouth, that Faith’s dick filled his ass, that his body was open, receptive, willing, taking all that Faith and his beast had to give. Vice reveled in his taking, his beast howling in his mind in satisfaction as his hungers were catered to. His hands left the wall and clamped onto Faith’s dark, muscular arm, holding on so that he wouldn’t lose the salty sweetness as his body went into convulsions. Animalistic, they rutted, the bathroom filling with howls and moans as they slammed into each other, two beautifully monstrous beasts sharing, taking and giving satisfaction. It could not last long. “Faith!” Wailing and bucking, Vice finally released his partner’s arm and roared his name as his orgasm began to overwhelm him. His cock spewed its hot seed without any further stimulation. His anal walls spasmed around the hard cock thrusting deep within his depths. It was enough to pull Faith into a climax of his own, wrenching moans and growls from the darker demon as he again clamped his teeth onto the back of his partner’s neck, both demons sharing the energy explosion the climax wrought.

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Lazily, their beasts twined about each other on a metaphysical plane before they slowly sank back into their host bodies. It left Faith and Vice shuddering in a postorgasmic haze, too blissed out to do much more than turn off the water and lean against the steamy, wet walls. “So,” Faith managed, chest heaving and voice still raspy after a few moments of rest. “Was it good for you?” Vice managed a chuckle, looking down at his partner’s arm, noticing the savage bite marks were already healing and the bleeding had long since stopped. “Oh, yeah.” He leaned back in his mate’s arms, trusting that Faith had enough strength left to keep them upright, if not totally stable. “Good.” Faith wrapped both arms around his mate. “Then it’s my turn.”

Chapter Two “So,” Vice purred, lying on his back and watching Faith twist rubber bands around the ends of his braided cornrows. “What do we do next?” “Are you so sure that there is a next?” Faith asked, his voice mellow as he lowered muscular arms to rest on the end of the bed where he sat perched. He leaned forward, allowing the waist-length braids to flow around his body, partially obscuring the lines of the thick, black brand that wound in raised lines across his back, esoteric lines that only he and his mate could interpret. “Wasn’t this last job enough for you?” “Where’s the adventure in slaying old ladies?” Vice rolled to his stomach, letting his own long, red locks cascade around his face. Peering up at his lover, he grinned again, exposing fangs that glistened in the dim light of the waning sun. “I need something that I can sink my teeth into, Faith. You know what makes me happy, baby.” Snorting, Faith dropped backwards, letting the thick mattress cushion his body even as he settled himself beside his lover. He twisted to examine Vice, taking in the thin, raised markings that encircled his left eye, the myriad of scars that covered his body, the malicious glint in his eye as he stared at his mate. “What a beautiful head case you are,” he chuckled, reaching out to caress that face only he was allowed to touch. “Quit stalling, asshole.” Vice nipped at Faith’s fingers as they caressed his lips. “You know something, and you’re not telling me what it is.” “Keep pushing me, Vice.” Faith’s voice dropped deeper. “You’ll find out just how much of an asshole I really am.” Rolling his eyes, Vice snorted and settled deeper into the mattress. “You act like I won’t bleed you,” Faith continued, this time tangling his hands in his mate’s hair.

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“Bleed me, yes.” Vice moved closer, and his warm breath wafted over his mate’s face, letting him catch the scent of him, knowing the pheromones would calm the alphamost of the pair. “But endanger the mission, that you would never do.” “Hmm,” Faith grunted in agreement, bending forward and turning his long, barbed tongue along his mate’s lips. “Just behave.” “As if I ever misbehave.” Vice closed his eyes as his mate’s caresses brought the beast within him to the fore. He pulled against the hold Faith had on his hair, allowing the beast to have its bit of pain while he indulged in his pleasures. “Right,” Faith drawled, tightening his grip, knowing that his mate did indeed wallow in pain. It was one of the things that made him so special -- his ability to lose himself in his basic, instinctual desires. “So.” The bed shifted and bucked as Vice maneuvered to sit up over his mate, his pale eyes glinting down at his lover. Faith’s skin fairly glowed golden brown in this failing light, and his eyes gleamed ebony, just a trace of red showing through the solid black. Vice rested his hands on the scarred chest, noting that the sword scars didn’t show up nearly dark enough on his own flesh. “So.” Faith spoke as if he didn’t have two hundred pounds of red-haired demon on his chest. “There is something else that they want us to do before we can go home.” “And that would be?” Vice lazily flicked a deep brown nipple, watching as it hardened into a tight peak, though Faith himself showed no reaction at all. “I’m really getting tired of this armpit of civilization. We could have had a nice job in the tropics, but no. Control wanted us here.” “That would be,” Faith continued as if Vice had not begun his ranting about their current positioning, “the Hands of Fate.” Vice froze, his eyes stilling, the only sign of surprise he exhibited. “The… Hands of Fate?” “They still exist, apparently.” “And where would these very mythological, very dangerous --” “Very real…”

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“-- very real weapons be?” Faith’s hands gripped Vice’s thighs, pressing firmly, massaging the muscles that gripped his hips. Vice’s ass fit snugly and comfortably against his bloated cock. Vice was still rather relaxed from the earlier romp in the shower, but he knew it was nearly feeding time for Faith. They both needed sustenance. “That would be where we come in. Control has been searching for the information you got from our ladies. Via the link, they just told me this isn’t over. We have to find the Hands, before that very real, very nasty under-investigator gets his hands back on them.” Faith tightened his grip, watched Vice’s pale eyes widen in shock. “What the fuck?” he roared as he tried to rise up, something Faith had known would happen. “We are not fucking bloodhounds! That’s what the controlled under-fucking-investigators are for! How dare they --” Vice broke off as Faith exploded into laughter. “What the fuck is so funny?” “What do you suppose happened to that other under-investigator who had the ability and the skill to actually find the Hands of Fate?” “He was…” “He was absorbed into its center. His own desires, his jealousies, tore at him, making him a toy to the Hands until he gave away his life’s energy to it to achieve some false dream.” “So instead they send out a team who has no desires unfulfilled?” Vice began to sound amused. “They send out a team who has no life force of their own, Vice. Because we all know what happened to the other under-investigator they sent out after the Hands.” “Oh, yeah.” Vice smiled again. “He was driven mad by his own desires and was transformed into a form that he felt would protect the Hands… until he grew careless and lost them, as the legend goes.”

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“Yeah.” Faith began to grin as he shifted his hips, feeling his erection grow beneath the weight of his mate, giving small thrusts of his hips that would entice the other man. “As the legend goes.” “The legend --” Vice wiggled his hips, sliding his lover’s prick between the cheeks of his ass, teasing him into a more firm state. “-- also states that the ones who stole the Hands never made it back to the fore-founders; that they instead hid the Hands and left clues to their hiding spot… before the damn humans rushed in and burned them all for sorcery.” “Yes.” Faith began to grind his hips in earnest, his hands crawling from his lover’s thighs to his small waist, anchoring Vice to his groin as he suddenly sat up, holding Vice close to his chest. “And that the instigators of that fateful burning kept as souvenirs the clues that would lead to the Hands.” “Mmm,” Vice purred. “Clues.” He was paying attention, but there was a growing hunger in his chest, a desire to appease the beast growing within. “And the lovely trio of women who offered up their necks to you,” Faith grunted as Vice’s hands found his chest and began to pluck at the chocolate nipples that so fascinated him, “were in fact three of the five surviving relatives of the executioners who burned the original pair who… Fuck it!” Faith broke. “Feed now, information later.” That said, he dumped Vice beside him on the bed and turned onto his stomach. “Feed me now.” Happily, Vice pushed his mate’s long cornrows aside, exposing the large brand that outlined most of his back. The brand itself was a triskelon of rich, black, tribal lines. The point of the triangle met low on his back while its flat base traveled from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. It had been lovingly yet painfully burned into his flesh by his mate, in the spot of his choosing, just as Vice chose to have his brand on his face. Its meaning was obvious. Just as Vice chose to let everyone know at a glance just who had chosen the untamable mad unit, Faith wanted Vice to know that he trusted him completely at his back, his most vulnerable spot.

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But now, as Vice’s velvety tongue lapped along the raised lines, another reason was made apparent. Faith’s back was one of his most erogenous zones, one that Vice loved to exploit. Now that Vice’s tongue was working magic along his spine and his mating brand, Faith began to hump the mattress, grinding his rapidly swelling cock in deep. “I love it when you do that with your tongue,” Faith moaned, his fists clenching in the bed sheets. “You taste divine,” Vice murmured, his lips pressed against Faith’s lower back. “I wonder, do you taste as divine everywhere?” Faith moaned his response as Vice’s hand parted his cheeks. “Look,” he purred. “It’s winking at me. Hungry, love?” “Stop fucking around and get to it,” Faith demanded, a low growl grumbling from his throat. “Impatient,” Vice chuckled as his tongue went to work running down his lover’s ass, circling the small, puckered opening that begged for his caresses. Faith soon was making low growls and moans as Vice enthusiastically began to toss his salad. His head whipped from side to side as sweat beaded up on his skin. Vice’s tongue was gently prying him open, orally relaxing his muscles so that he could be breached by his lover’s long, thick cock. “Vice!” Faith gasped, arching his hips upward, wanting more of those liquid caresses that shook him to his very soul. “Payback is a bitch,” Vice chuckled, before carefully sliding one finger deep into his lover. “Remember that… damn, Vice, more!” Faith babbled as Vice began to stroke his insides, searching for his pleasure gland and teasing it with gentle caresses. Soon there were two fingers deep within Faith, and the man was finding it hard to control his beast. He bucked and writhed on the bed, his hunger growing, his beast too close to the surface to wait much longer.

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Vice found his cock swollen to its fullest as he fed off of his mate’s reactions, as he felt his body respond to him. It was a beautiful, heady experience, to watch as one of the most controlled men in the Guild began to unravel. “Soon, pet,” Vice breathed, leaning over to lick at Faith’s brand. “Soon, baby. I’ll give you what you need.” “Now!” Faith rose up to his hands and knees. His voice was a dangerous growl, and his nails, now claws, were tearing at the bedding. “Need you now!” Vice watched Faith’s muscles begin to ripple, and his body began to change as the beast exerted control. He licked his lips, his hunger growing with his mate’s. “This?” he asked, pulling his fingers free and running his cock along Faith’s winking pucker, coating him with a thick layer of precum. “This is what you want?” “Yes!” Faith bucked backwards, trying to get his mate where he needed him most. “Now!” Vice chuckled and pulled back, this time sinking two fingers deep inside Faith. “Soon.” Then he began scissoring and stretching his mate, relishing the mewls and growls that came from his throat. He had three fingers deep inside and was contemplating a fourth when Faith turned to glare at him. His eyes were solid red beneath his ridges, and his fangs had dropped fully. He looked like some wild and magnificent dark beast intent on ravishing Vice. “Now,” Vice moaned, almost losing control himself at the hungry look on his mate’s face. He quickly pulled his fingers free and lined himself up to his mate’s opening. Faith dropped to his elbows, raising his ass in anticipation of the feeding he was about to receive. “Vice…” “Now,” Vice responded, his own voice dropping as he slid into Faith’s tight, molten heat. “Shit!” he screamed and immediately began to pound into that slick heat.

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Faith pushed back, reveling in the rough treatment that his beast craved. He had his partner, his mate, filling him. He felt full and content, yet he hungered still. “Harder,” he growled. “Harder, damn you!” And Vice complied, bending over to wrap his arms around Faith, pulling him up until he was seated on his lover’s cock. “Then ride me,” Vice snarled, plucking at his partner’s nipples. Faith threw back his head and began to slam himself down on his mate, riding the hard cock deep within him as he fisted his own cock with one hand. He jacked himself to the rhythm he set on Vice’s cock -- fast, hard, and deep. Soon Faith’s free hand tangled in his mate’s hair, pulling him down enough for him to slam his tongue into Vice’s mouth, cutting his tongue on his fangs, sharing the tantalizing taste of his own blood. But it only made him hunger more deeply, craving the taste of his own sweet mate. Understanding the need, Vice tilted his head back, exposing his neck to Faith, and gasped as the invitation was quickly accepted. Faith slid his fangs deep, piercing the delicate skin of Vice’s neck, allowing the rich, red blood to fill his mouth. Vice moaned, feeling his mate suckling at his throat, taking what he needed to survive. He closed his eyes and gave himself over to the feel, thrusting deep within Faith’s heat, Faith’s mouth working at his throat, his own beast almost too sated to act up… it was pure heaven. But soon his need to drive his mate to climax overwhelmed him, and he tightened his hands on Faith’s waist. Holding Faith steady, he began to slam him down. Forcing his cock deep, he caused growls and grunts to explode from Faith. His own hand shoved Faith’s away from his cock, and he began to work Faith hard. “Vice,” Faith purred, pulling away from Vice’s throat and lapping at the seeping wounds. “Yes, baby. Harder!”

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Then his head flew back, and Vice began to set a demanding rhythm, one that made his anal walls burn and spasm with hunger. Lightning flew through his system, and both beasts growled in approval as Vice focused his thrusts on Faith’s prostate. “Vice!” he bellowed as the tension building in him snapped. His cock exploded, sending his seed spewing into the air. His anal muscles clenched around the hard cock within. He was coming hard, so hard his toes curled and all his nerves sang. His binding mark began to glow as he fed and fed. Blood, sex, orgasmic energy -- it all combined into one exploding, orgasmic bomb that left his soul floating and his body sinking back into his partner’s. He was vaguely aware of Vice’s climax, then the metaphysical pleasure of having their beasts intertwined. Then he let his consciousness float, lost in a sated haze of divine bliss. “Only you, Vice,” he breathed after a time. “Only you.” “’Til it bleeds, baby.” Vice settled next to his contently purring mate. “And beyond,” Faith replied, closing his eyes, trusting his partner to have his back.

Chapter Three “The trio of bitches said that they met this guy at Mass, that he gave them the secret ritual that would promote good fortune and success.” “Never mind that they were already rich as Croesus and had a thing against Black people and demons apparently,” Vice growled, remembering some of the shit that had spewed from the three ladies’ mouths before he began to relieve them of their excess body parts. “You’re just holding a grudge because they found me scarier than you,” Faith chuckled. “Prejudiced fuckheads,” Vice snarled, growing angry all over again. No one could insult his partner -- no one except for him, he decided. “They got scared enough when I bit off that cunt’s hand.” “I concede that they were ready enough to talk then. They even appealed to the Black Devil.” Faith chuckled, picturing the three matronly women groveling on their knees and begging for their lives from the one they’d threatened to call the cops on. “But the important thing is that they talked.” “And here we are, all nice and dressed, and going to church.” Vice rolled his eyes at the formal suits they were wearing, blending in with the locals of Akron, Ohio, just like two good little tourists. “Be impressed if the place doesn’t burn to the ground the minute you walk in,” Faith deadpanned as he reached back to push his long braids over his shoulders. “I know I’ll be impressed if we make it out of here without you exploding into laughter at some of the religious dogma that serves as the truth around this place.” “Well.” Vice tossed back the bit of hair that always hung over his left eye, partially covering his bonding brand. “Humans have to believe in something to be

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happy. And it is the disgustingly enterprising human who can give them something to believe in while at the same time manipulating the shit out of the bleating sheep to their own means. That man…” “Or woman,” Faith added. “Yes, mustn’t forget the fairer sex,” he mused. They strolled into a tented area filled with what appeared to be hundreds of adoring worshipers. “It is that man or woman who is truly dangerous, and thus it is that man or woman that we need to… discover.” “Such a way with words,” Faith praised as they made their way to a pair of metal chairs somewhere near the middle of the religious circus tent, surrounded by the true believers, the gawkers, and those who wanted to be entertained. “Welcome, my friends, to the show that never ends…” Vice sang softly, looking around at the plethora of society norms and freaks gathering. He rolled his eyes and tossed his hair, trying not to draw any more attention to himself and his partner than he had to. He wanted to have some fun at these parishioners’ expense, true, but they also had a mission to complete. “Behave,” Faith chuckled, and then turned to shoot an evil look at a well-dressed woman with a satellite dish for a hat who could not keep her eyes off of his hair. “They probably believe we’re rock stars or some such nonsense.” “I wanted to come at the end anyway.” Vice turned his attention to his partner again. “Why do we have to be here now? I think our time would be better spent checking out those names that the not-so-dearly departed gave us.” “True,” Faith agreed, “but these revival preachers have a nasty habit of ducking out early and leaving others to clean up their messes.” “Preemptive strike.” Vice sighed, slouching in his seat, tugging at the neck of his white silk shirt. Both men drew a lot of attention for several reasons, chief among them the way they presented themselves and the aura of mystery that seemed to encircle them.

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Faith, as always, was dressed in head-to-toe black, his suit jacket long and touching his knees, his silk pants cuffed so that a thin sliver of black sock showed when he crossed his ankles. The only splash of contrast was the bright white silk shirt that he wore without a tie. Vice, on the other hand, wore a suit of screaming deep purple. But oddly enough, it didn’t clash with his hair. In fact, the deep purple made his hair shimmer like blood-red jewels. The white shirt added interest, but with his stylized facial branding and his laissez faire attitude, he stood out like a colorful peacock among sparrows. “How long is this revival supposed to last, anyway?” Vice asked, but froze as he felt an unmistakable aura of power. “Do you feel what I’m feeling?” “Oh, yeah.” Faith closed his eyes and inhaled, drawing in the deep, dark power that had begun to fill the room. “It is rather… enticing.” “Concentrate on business.” Faith grew serious as an awed hush began to fill the room. A tension began to build, a tension that could easily be misconstrued as religious fervor, or being in the presence of one who had been touched by God, but both Faith and Vice knew what it was. They were about to face something akin to pure evil. Rapidly, the remaining seats filled, and there was nothing but standing room in the back when total silence filled the crowded space. Faith and Vice sat up, their skin crawling, their senses growing alert and battleready as one man stepped out of the wings at the front, his footsteps echoing as he moved onto the small, wooden, makeshift stage. “Good evening, children.” His voice was a pleasant tenor, a calming voice, the voice of a teacher or confidant. It exuded trust and complete confidence. “I am so pleased that you could all make it.” The so-called Reverend Vitelli was an average, nondescript man with thinning brown hair and wide, guileless eyes of pale blue. He moved with a practiced grace in his plain black suit. He smiled with slightly twisted teeth and glanced at the two men

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who had followed him out of the wings. Both men were dressed in expensively cut designer suits. “God is everywhere,” he called out, to a chorus of amens and hallelujahs. He smiled at the response, his eyes scanning the room at large, pausing for a moment in Faith’s direction before continuing his visual survey. “And I see that we have a packed house this day, all ready to praise the works of our great Lord.” This comment was met by wild applause and joyous outcalls. The people stared at the man, hope shining in their eyes, as if he himself were a god. It seemed they worshiped the man as well as they worshiped their God, and maybe more so. He was the physical embodiment of their Lord, and that made what he was doing all the more despicable. “We have two new recruits in our aid to fight injustice and tyranny.” He motioned to the two men, bringing them both into Faith and Vice’s line of sight. “Do you feel that?” Vice whispered urgently to his partner, a chill moving down his spine. “At first it was being masked by this… this iconic person,” Faith leaned down to whisper. “But now that they have stepped away somewhat, I can feel it. It’s almost like… like a calling. And it’s coming from those two men.” One man eagerly stepped forward, waving at the excited crowd as he basked in their applause. He had the perma-gelled hair of a TV anchorperson and an orthodontured smile that had to have set someone back a pretty penny. The second man, an older gentleman of means it seemed, hung back, shying away from the limelight, his eyes nervously seeking around the room as if searching for a way out. The look on his face was resigned. “Mr. Hargrove and Mr. Peerson were generous enough to donate to our cause this very day,” the reverend continued. “They are donating priceless family heirlooms from their families’ precious and private art collections, to be auctioned off soon, the proceeds going to our church.”

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The church exploded in celebration, the smug Hargrove and the resigned Peerson looking on. “But,” the reverend went on, “it seems that we have some people here who are not true believers in our work.” The applause died down, and disturbed murmurs began to fill the room. “It seems that the devil has seen fit to send forth his agents of immorality and defiance.” The reverend smiled sadly, shaking his head as he made another search of the room, zeroing in on Faith and Vice. “Their kind can and should not be allowed to defile the sanctity of our church with their mere presence. It offends me.” “Oh, fuck,” Vice whispered. “Here we go. Let the games began.” “Those two!” the reverend shouted, pointing in the partners’ direction. “Those two despoil all that we believe in and threaten our very moral fiber!” Rolling his eyes, Faith calmly stood up, towering over the men and women there with his sheer presence, and reached into his pocket, pulling out one of his pre-rolled cigarettes. Snickering, Vice followed suit, but produced a lighter from some hidden pocket and casually flicked a flame into existence, efficiently lighting his partner’s smoke. There were several startled gasps and expressions of dismay as Faith casually took a pull and blew a few smoke rings into the air. “Might I have the pleasure of your name?” He spoke softly, his deep voice sending shivers through many in the crowd. “I need your name to introduce you to the devil when I send your ass to hell.” “Hell, Faith, just call him Dickwad and leave it at that!” Vice snickered, tossing the lighter over his shoulder, ignoring the shriek that rang out as it struck someone in a sensitive spot, then taking up a ready stance beside his mate. “Even though he kind of looks like an ass or a pussy to me. What do you all think?” he called out, ignoring the shocked gasp as someone fainted. “Is he an ass or a pussy?” The people were stunned into silence. But into that silence, laughter began to ring out.

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“Pussy or ass…” the reverend chuckled. “Funny, coming from someone who gets fucked up both… You are a female, are you not?” “Why don’t you come over here and let me show you?” Vice laughed, not really insulted. He was confident enough in who he was to laugh off the words. “Oh, no, thank you.” The reverend chuckled at his outraged parishioners. “Why don’t you let the true believers introduce themselves to you instead?” With that, he nodded to at least two dozen men who encircled the stage like a pack of alert watchdogs. At his signal, the men started forward, determination as well as holy and righteous indignation written plainly on their faces. The people surrounding the pair seemed to melt into the distance as the crowd parted like the Red Sea. Soon Faith and Vice were standing alone, surrounded by irate worshipers, their hostile intent there for all to see. “God bless you, gentlemen,” the reverend called as the first of the men reached the pair. “And that name you are so interested in knowing is Vitelli. See if you can remember it after your… religious tutoring.” He exited the stage, the two men following, one obviously ill at ease but confident, the other nervous and skittish. “You and your big mouth,” Vice laughed, as several screams and shouts filled the area. The innocents -- the ones who didn’t want to get caught up in the brewing battle -- fled. Within seconds, the only ones left in the room were the fighters, the people-scavengers who were purveyors of human misery, and those who worked for a higher power, though one not all that wholesome or truthful. “I just beat you to it.” Faith tossed his cigarette and fisted both hands. “You’re just jealous because he didn’t call me a woman.” “Well, fuck you,” Vice snipped, tossing his hair before he turned his back to his partner and made ready to meet the first volley. “I’m prettier, anyway.” Those were the last words spoken, as the first punch was launched. The fight was on.

***

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“The items, gentlemen.” Vitelli spoke as he exited the tent, moving swiftly toward a waiting car. “Then our business transaction will be complete, and you may move on with your lives, richer for your experiences.” “Indeed,” Hargrove swiftly agreed, reaching into his pocket to withdraw a small gold and glass shape hanging from a velvet cord. “It’s not like this piece would have any value to anyone other than my family and you, Mr. Vitelli. I wish you good luck of the thing.” “Indeed, Mr. Hargrove.” Vitelli smiled. “Well said.” “And the purchase price?” “Would I attempt to hoodwink you, Mr. Hargrove?” Vitelli reached into his pocket and produced a small slip of paper. “Wh-who were those people?” Peerson finally spoke up, looking nervously over his shoulder. The noise, the shouts and sounds of destruction in the tent, increased. “What did they want? Why did you send your… your people after them?” “Mr. Peerson.” Vitelli grinned. “I believe you need to relax, sir. There is always resistance to the truth. And people of that ilk have come to try and stop our great work.” “But to use violence against them? Isn’t that what you were trying to prevent? How can beating two men bring about a moral peace?” “Meet violence with violence, Charles! You know this! We discussed this before.” Hargrove sneered, taking the paper from Vitelli. “Those types have to be stopped. Especially if what the good reverend implied is the truth.” “Relax, Mr. Peerson,” Vitelli soothed. “Just hand over the relic and you can take your… your summons and go. You never have to see or hear from me again. And you will always be remembered in my organization. If you ever have a need of me, you need only… call.” “I don’t know…” Peerson looked around, his heart telling him to flee but his mind demanding that he stay and see this thing to the end. “But…” “Give me the relic, Mr. Peerson. And then you can go and never look back.”

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“Give up the damn thing, Charles,” Hargrove snorted. “What’s the worst thing that can happen?” “I… I…” the man stammered, backing away from the two he was becoming more unsure of by the moment. “Oh, for… Watch!” Hargrove snapped, stepping back and opening the sheet of paper Vitelli had handed him. “I wouldn’t…” Vitelli began, stepping closer to his car. “You said it was safe,” Hargrove argued, rolling his eyes at the retreating man, taking his attention away from Peerson. “So I’m going to show Charles how safe it is.” “You must have the proper setting…” “What could be more safe and proper than in your presence?” Neither man noticed Peerson quietly slip away, heading back to his own home to contemplate his association with these two men. “Yes,” Vitelli began, but Hargrove cut him off, holding the paper up and reciting the phonetically written words. “Fuck,” Vitelli snarled, before turning and making his way rather swiftly to his car. Within moments he was a mere thought as Hargrove lost himself in the rhythm and cadence of the spell.

*** Faith cursed softly as a fist made it past his guard, and he took a glancing blow to the head. He stepped back to regain his balance and then struck out, his leg lashing forward, catching his attacker in the stomach and dropping him instantly. He ducked as a body went flying over his head -- Vice’s work, no doubt -- and spun around to block a blow coming at him from the side. A chair exploded into splinters as it slammed into his rock-solid arms. “Too many of them!” Vice called out, gleefully kneeing a man in the groin, then tossing him back into the still advancing crowd. “We have to do something before someone -- okay, before we -- get hurt.”

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“They are innocent in a way, Vice!” Faith bellowed back, throwing a punch that put another man out. “There will be no slaughter.” But even as he shouted to his partner, there was a deep rumbling sound and a wave of power so strong it lifted Faith and Vice clear off of their feet. “What the fuck?!” Vice bellowed, as the stunned parishioners froze, all eyes turning toward the back of the tent, the place where the good Reverend Vitelli had disappeared. There was a growling sound, and then the smell of something that neither of them would ever forget and never wanted to experience again. “Master demon,” Vice gasped, going pale, an amazing thing considering how pale he was to begin with. “Who the hell would summon --” Faith began, but his comment was interrupted as the parishioners began to move again. He quickly rolled to his feet and continued to fight the handful of irate men that remained, forcing his way to the back. Vice followed, a manic grin on his face as he began to fight in earnest, knocking out teeth and breaking noses. But any action would have been too little and too late. The remaining parishioners seemed to become infused with the evil energy flowing from the summoned demon. The intensity in their eyes increased, and their fighting became more focused, more dangerous. “This,” Faith growled, pausing to take in the frenzied fighting men, “is not good.”

Chapter Four “Damn it!” Vice snarled, shoving a devout worshiper into a pair of approaching men, all of them snarling epithets and shouting quoted scriptures from the Bible. “Are we gonna have to sweep the room?” “Fuck!” Faith hissed, his eyes glowing red as he slammed his fist into the face of a muscle-bound parishioner, abruptly dropping him to the floor. He swiveled quickly, placing Vice at his back, and they attempted to stop the people, insane with false religious fervor, from surrounding them. “Not in our orders.” Faith was trying hard to pull his main weapon, but the crowd rushing them was taking away that choice. “That bastard’s getting away!” Vice snarled, his voice breathless as he lashed out at another male, preventing him from grabbing a chair to brandish at them. “I want his fucking neck!” Faith’s eyes narrowed as he nodded to his partner. “Do it.” “Agreed!” Vice shouted, lifting his wrist to his mouth. He hissed, allowing his fangs to lengthen, then grunted as he bit down into his own flesh. He spun around, confident that his partner would protect his back as the blood flowed into his palm. He closed his eyes and began his mental chant, infusing the blood with his own magical signature. Slowly the blood began to solidify, then, in a flash of light, it began to take on a shape. A blood-red sword exploded from his palm. The long, thick blade pulsed and throbbed with the life of its possessor, its hilt set firmly in Vice’s hand. Its shape was that of an organic broadsword, not the straight lines produced in nature, but more curved and natural in appearance.

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Grinning, Vice turned and swung his blade at the shocked men, who paused only for a moment before charging, shouting about demons and devils. “Go!” Vice bellowed, allowing his partner a chance to make a move toward the stage and to stop whatever was being summoned. But they made their move a bit too late. “Too late,” Faith hissed, falling back and looking wildly about him. There were only a few men left, the rest either knocked out or long since fled. “It’s coming.”

*** Hargrove threw both hands in the air, no longer needing the words on the paper. The spell was now in control, and the unfamiliar Latin rolled off his tongue with ease. As his body moved automatically, the wind began to pick up. The sky darkened ominously, and an eerie silence surrounded him. A sickening sweet smell, like burnt sugar and sulfur, began to permeate the place. Hargrove stopped chanting, the spell releasing him from its hypnotic grip, dropping him to his knees on the hard blacktop. Panting, he ran one shaking hand through his hair, looking up at a sudden wet, tearing sound. It was as if the very air before him was splitting in two. He gasped as a set of solid black claws pushed their way through thin air. He stared, eyes wide, breath heaving in his chest. A cold, clammy sweat erupted over his body, making his very expensive suit very uncomfortable. “Ou-our Father… w-who… art in…” he gasped. His skin crawled, and his scalp tingled in very real fear. “Complete our bargain!” The voice sounded like thunder and was so ominous it shook him to his bones, yet it spoke in a whisper. “B-Bargain?” “Complete our bargain!” This time, there was real anger in that voice. The rift parted further, and a dark, shadowy figure began to emerge. “Dear God --”

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“Has no part of our bargain.” As it spoke, the figure slid its upper body like a snake shedding its skin and rose to face him. Hargrove would have run, but terror held him in place. He swallowed once to hold in his vomit and tried his best not to wet his pants. The thing had no eyes! The vaguely triangle-shaped head sported two places where eyes were supposed to be, but the narrow slits were sealed shut. The thing had no nose, yet it easily turned its head in his direction, as if scenting for him. More and more of it emerged from the tear, a shadowy, thin body that was nearly hypnotizing with its sinuous movements. It smelled like death itself and carried a menacing aura of darkness. Those claw-like appendages where hands should have been reached out for Hargrove, the dark thing eagerly pulling him forward. “My sacrifice!” it demanded, shaking Hargrove, lifting him off of the ground, as it grew more angered. “Give me my sacrifice!” “God help me!” Hargrove shrieked as the acrid smell of urine added to the pong slowly filling the air. “Please, help me!” “Not your god,” it hissed, baring a lipless mouth that sported rows of razorsharp teeth. “I am the thing you need to appease!” “No!” Hargrove shrieked as the thing pulled him in closer. He watched, eyes wide in shock, throat convulsing as the screams refused to leave his paralyzed throat. Several more tentacle-like appendages spread from the thing’s thin back, all reaching for him. “You break our bargain.” “No!” Hargrove whimpered. “Please, God, no!” “Your soul is the price,” it intoned. “You will be sacrificed!” Its voice sounded oddly pleased as it lifted Hargrove close to that mouth, as the other appendages wrapped around him and squeezed. “No! God, please! NO! N-nooo!” Hargrove’s shrieks abruptly cut off.

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***

“Done with its snack,” Vice growled, as the horrified screaming faded into silence. “Now it’ll be after the main course.” “I refuse to be a meal,” Faith snarled, his eyes narrowing as he glared at the back of the tent. Then he brought his own wrist to his teeth, his elongated fangs sinking deep. He wrenched his arm down, allowing his rich black blood to spill, capturing some of it in both hands. Growling a challenge, he infused his life’s blood with his own power signature, creating a matched set of spiraling blades that seemed to hum with energy. The blades were about five feet long, each serrated and razor sharp as they arched sharply, yet gracefully, from his hands. He gave a few experimental swings, the air fairly humming with the passage of the swords. “Run!” he snarled, a set of deep eye ridges growing above his eyes. “Get out of here!” The inhuman shrieking, combined with the stunning display of power the two men showed, had the remaining parishioners fleeing for their lives. Within seconds, only the wounded and the inhuman remained. “You know that thing is going to come in here,” Vice called out to his partner as his own face seemed to shift, becoming elongated and demonic, his eyes going as pale as milk, a small set of horns protruding from his forehead. “They always do,” Faith grunted, taking a ready stance with both weapons held defensively before him. Nodding, Vice seemed to grin all the harder. “Never let go, partner,” he called out as the light and air seemed to be sucked from the tent. “Never let you go!” “Not even when it bleeds,” Faith intoned, feeling the bond they shared strengthened with the faith put into those words. “And then beyond.”

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No more words were uttered because that evil thing came roaring into the room, covered in the remains of one of the humans who had been with Vitelli, infused with stolen life and damn near drunk from the power of consuming it. “Die!” it whispered. The single word seemed to echo several hundred times, eerie in the small tent. “You first,” Faith whispered back, his own voice taking on an ethereal quality. And then the matched pair made their move.

Chapter Five “Now where the fuck is he?” Faith was losing his patience along with his temper. It had taken more energy than he’d thought to finally defeat the minor demon. He threw the remains of his once-elegant jacket aside as he scraped green blood - all that remained of the banished demon -- off of his face. He turned to stare at his partner and winced as he saw Vice lift one severed, twitching limb to his mouth and savage the bleeding tip until all movement ceased. “You are so brushing your teeth before I kiss you again,” he sighed, knowing that Vitelli had long since gone, and that the summoned demon was just the distraction the man had needed to put some distance between him and them. “Death,” Vice purred, his face still transformed as his inner beast refused to give up its tenacious hold on his body. It wasn’t often that it was set free, and so it tried to use all of the time it was allowed out to relish its own gory pursuits. “So pure… so pretty.” “Snap out of it!” Faith growled, stalking toward his partner and casually backhanding the man to the gore-covered ground. “Vice, get your ass back here!” His own eye ridges were beginning to sink back into his skin as his eyes lost their solid red appearance. One of his swords had shattered during a dual attack on the demon as they’d both fought to keep the thing contained. He hefted the remaining sword in his right hand, holding it aside, knowing what would happen now that he had struck his partner. Almost immediately, Vice became a snarling, fighting thing, leaping at Faith’s throat, his own weapon left abandoned next to the corpse of the demon they’d both

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slain. He had not been struck with a weapon, but with bare hands. So with bare hands, and teeth, and claws, he would retaliate. “Fuck you!” Vice hissed, his hands clawing at Faith’s face. He ducked one of Faith’s half-hearted swings and captured the offending arm in both hands. “Fuck…” Vice clamped his teeth onto Faith’s arm, and then froze as the rich taste of his partner’s blood filled his mouth. “’Til it bleeds,” Faith crooned, dropping his sword, watching as it turned into a thick puddle of black blood as soon as he pulled his energy from it. “’Til it bleeds, Vice,” he crooned, pulling his mate closer, not fighting the tearing or the pain that rippled outwards from his wounded arm. It was a familiar pain, one he would pay several times over to bring back to him the only one he could even consider naming a trusted loved one. “And beyond,” Vice whispered, his voice rough as the scent and taste of his mate gave him the energy to force his own beast back deep into his psyche until it was needed again. He closed his eyes, almost moaning as the rich, black blood filled his mouth. He eagerly swallowed, washing out the taste of death and decay, the flavors of the banished demon. This blood was rich and almost sweet -- the taste of his own chosen mate. “And beyond,” Faith uttered, tangling his hands in his lover’s hair, lifting Vice’s morphing face to his. With broad swipes of his long tongue, he bathed his partner’s face, helping him gain control. Vice’s one blood-red sword dissolved into a pile of steaming goo as he wrapped both arms around his Faith, putting all of his attention on his partner as he unclamped his teeth and pulled his mouth away. Faith appeared more battered than normal, one eye swollen shut and various shallow cuts and bruises beginning to show even on his dark-toned skin. “It almost got us,” Vice groaned, looking around at the carnage, the shattered human bodies the thing had hurled at them or crushed beneath its feet, to the ruins of a once large and stately tent.

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“It didn’t.” Faith’s words were absolute -- no arguments could deny the simple fact that they had survived. “And the clean-up crew will be here soon.” He tapped his temple with his unwounded arm, signaling to Vice that he had contacted Control. “Stupid fucking blood-suckers,” Vice snipped, licking at the wound on his mate’s arm, and then looking up at Faith, a smile in his pale eyes. “But there was only one demon…” “Isn’t one enough?” Faith asked, his eyes dancing in amused relief. They had both survived. There would be another day to fight. “One demon, Faith. That means only one relic was given away.” “Or that only one of those men was stupid enough to actually try and summon a demon.” “And,” Vice said, pulling back from his mate and adjusting his own torn and tattered clothing. “We have a name.” He ran his hands through his blood-red hair, leaving slimy trails of green and specks of his own black blood. Suddenly Faith recalled the rumors that Vice, at one time, had had hair as pale as ice… that it wasn’t until his insane demonic mother had dipped him in a vat of special human blood that his hair had gained its now more familiar carmine tones. It seemed that getting your hair bloody was a family trait. Vice was going to wash his hair but good if he ever wanted Faith to play in it again. Human blood was one thing, but demonic organ goo? “Peerson,” Faith recalled, shaking his head and bringing himself back to the present. He looked around the area, noting that the tent had fallen and now evening was rapidly approaching. How Control was going to cover up this one, he had no idea. But he knew he had to get them out of the area, and fast. “And how many rich Peersons can there be in a city like this?” Vice mused, a grin on his gore-covered face. “Maybe one less.” Faith pointed to a nearby manhole cover. “Our way back to the safe house.” He rolled his eyes as Vice laughed at him. “How did I manage to get such a finicky metrosexual for a mate?”

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Vice fairly roared with laughter as Faith flipped him off before wrenching the cover open. “If I get any infection, you are sucking the poisons out.” “Like I haven’t done that before.” Vice laughed, and within seconds, the two men were out of sight.

*** “Three,” Faith called to his partner over the roar of the shower. “There are three Peerson families, but only one with a surviving male.” Faith had already had his shower and rebraided his long black hair before he began to pace around the room in nothing more than a pair of low-slung pants. His bare feet were soundless on the carpet as he held the mental connection with his and Vice’s handler, gathering all the information that the Guild had seen fit to tell them. “So, where is he?” Vice called back. The shower cut off, and he moved into the room, his body showing bruises and cuts, the remnants of their battle. His blood-red hair hung wet down his back, leaving small trails of silver water to run down his rippling muscles. Faith paused as he stared at his partner, a low growl rumbling from his throat. His control on his own beast was slipping, and there was one area his beast was famous for, almost as much as its skill with the dual blades. His libido had been legendary during the time of the merging, when he had finally been able to conquer and subdue his beast. He had screwed everything willing, and some with dubious consent, until his beast caught scent of his Vice. Even now, his beast was not fully subsumed despite the iron control he utilized. He felt his fangs descend and his balls tingle as he bared his teeth at his partner, his long conversation with Control fading from his mind. The last message he was sure of was something to the effect that Control was sending out a feeler, a spy of sorts to see where Peerson had disappeared to. It was believed that he had fled the area, and Control would send someone to verify that, as well as masking the man’s trail. If Vitelli had a magical lock onto the relic the man possessed, he would be able to follow him no matter where he fled. But because Vitelli

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had never held the item, it was a fair bet that any lock would be on the signature of the relic, not the relic itself. Signatures could be duplicated, and several fleeing from the area would give rise to confusion in Vitelli’s ranks. The Guild would be able to track Peerson, and when the fleeing man stopped, Control would make damn sure their best unit was waiting for him. “Be ready to move,” the neutral voice spoke in his head. Vice grinned, licking his lips as he examined his mate, noting that all of Faith’s attention was zeroed on him, that his fangs were bared and that an erection that could crack demons was straining the front of his pants. “Soon,” Faith answered, abruptly cutting off Control. He had better things to do… and from the look on his mate’s face, things that might be a whole lot more dangerous than Vitelli and runaway demons. Faith wasn’t sure where most of the scraps of his pants landed, and frankly he didn’t care. But the waistband -- oh, that strong bit of leather was all he required for the moment. He had his mate on his knees, just where the fiery redhead belonged. “Open,” Faith ordered, his eyes burning bright red as he stared down into the glowing orbs of his partner. “Make me,” the blood-haired demon had the gall to demand. But that was okay. Rough and violent was what his beast needed at the moment. “Don’t fuck with me, Vice.” Faith’s voice had dropped several octaves, his fangs descending further at this act of outright defiance. “I thought that was why I was leashed on my knees.” Faith tightened the makeshift collar around his partner’s neck, the leather digging into the delicate flesh and bringing a bigger smirk to Vice’s face. Pain and torment were his pleasures, and Faith knew that the evening would get a whole lot rougher before either of their beasts would be satisfied. “On your knees, yes,” Faith growled. “But your mouth is open for all the wrong reasons.”

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’Til it Bleeds

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He thrust his hips forward, leaving wet trails of precum along his partner’s cheeks, glinting, glowing trails that told of his hunger for Vice’s wicked mouth. He laughed as Vice mewled like a kitten, burying his nose in Faith’s crotch, sniffing at his balls, closing his eyes as he pulled his scent in. “Now open,” Faith demanded, yanking the leash, cutting off Vice’s breath, chuckling as the demon struggled, his hands tightening around Faith’s thighs, his nails parting the dark skin. But still Vice shook his head, his face turning bright red as he tried to fight his dominant. “Bastard,” Faith hissed, shoving the man backwards before drawing back his free hand and delivering a blow that would dislocate any human’s jaw, if not shatter it outright. “Fucking obey me!” Still choking, Vice purred happily, relaxing into the tight grip of the leather. Snarling, Faith released his grip on the leash minutely, before reaching out and fisting Vice’s hair. “I am your dominant!” Faith roared, his nails growing long and black in the grip of his frustrated anger. He pulled Vice close again, the nails of his free hand tracing Vice’s facial brand, almost demanding that Vice challenge his right to do so. Vice, instead of dropping his head submissively, stared up at him in defiance, pressing his face into the prickling caress, forcing his own skin to part, purring harder as his blood began to flow. “You little shit.” Faith chuckled, releasing the grip on the leash and fisting both hands in Vice’s hair. Still laughing, he yanked the smaller man to his feet, slamming his mouth over his. His tongue invaded Vice’s mouth, forcing its way inside before running along his mate’s fangs, testing their sharpness before teasing Vice’s tongue, drawing it from his mouth and deeply into his. Just as slowly, he bit down, tearing the delicate muscle and moaning as his mate’s sweet blood, combined with his unique flavor, flooded his mouth.

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’Til it Bleeds

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Vice whimpered in pain, struggling against the punishing hold, pressing his hands against the dark chest of the man who held him securely. Faith released him with a chuckle, slicking away the dark blood that flowed down his chin to drip on his chest. “You didn’t want to use that pretty mouth,” he murmured, rubbing his face against Vice’s, smearing the blood across his pale skin. “Now I fixed it so that you can’t use that fucking orifice… At least not for the night.” Instead of running or cowering away, Vice all but leapt into his dominant’s arms, his erection rock-hard and leaking as he pressed it against his mate’s washboard stomach. His legs went around Faith’s waist as his fingers tore welts down his back, but Faith was having none of it. “You disobey, and you think you should be rewarded?” Before Vice could respond in any way, he was tossed across the room, a flying ball of red hair and pale flesh, to land on the bed. With a roar, Faith was on him, pressing his body deep into the mattress, his hands gripping Vice’s and trapping them above his head. “You will pay!” Faith spat in his face, his beast breaking free as his nostrils flared, breathing in the deep scents of arousal flowing up from his mate. Faith sat back and lifted his right hand, only to tear at the flesh with his elongated fangs. When the blood ran freely, he grinned and added enough power to the red rivers flowing from his rapidly healing wrist to form a small set of glowing restraints. With a flick of his wrist, the dark red web settled around his mate, lifting him, spreading his legs, holding him as if he were in a sling, leaving his body open for anything that Faith desired. After ensuring that his mate’s hands were suspended above his head and his legs were spread wide, he settled back to observe his handiwork. He could feel Vice’s beast purring, taunting, begging for more. Faith knew that this feeding would hold them both… at least for the day. But he had something special for the little disobedient shit.

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’Til it Bleeds

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“Know what I’m gonna do?” he asked, snarling as his facial ridges emerged, giving him the look of walking death. As Vice stared up at him hungrily, Faith smiled, allowing all his fangs to show as he lifted his hand, absently noting that the bleeding had grown sluggish and was about to stop. “I’m going to take this hand --” He made a fist, before fanning his fingers wide. “-- and I’m going to shove it up your ass.” Vice’s beast forced his body into an arch as he hungrily licked his lips, his eyes locked onto the long-fingered hand of his mate. “You like that, don’t you?” Faith mused out loud, moving between the vee of his partner’s spread legs. “You can’t wait, can you?” He pressed one hand to his mate’s stomach, holding the writhing hips still as his right hand ran down over Vice’s steel hard cock, down the tight balls that had pulled up close to his body, and finally over the puckered entrance to Faith’s favorite playground. “You don’t deserve this,” Faith continued, lifting his hand and again chewing at the wound, making the blood run freely. “You haven’t earned this with your recent behavior.” He held his hand down so that the blood flowed over his fingers, making his dark flesh glisten. “But I love your style,” he growled, placing one finger at Vice’s hole, running it around the opening, thoroughly coating it with his blood. He pulled back to watch Vice try and slam his hips forward, to greedily take that finger within himself, but Faith only smirked at his partner’s whine of disappointment. Vice’s glowing, red eyes pleaded with his, the beast within begging. “And you fucking complete me!” With that, Faith slid his finger in deep, feeling his lover’s body absorb his blood, feeling his passing grow soft and wet as the muscles gave way and opened for his possession. “You like that?” Faith asked again, twisting his finger, searching the slick silken walls for…

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’Til it Bleeds

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“Ahh!” Vice gasped, his head flying back, his eyes wide and sightless. Faith snarled in response, striking the tender pleasure nub again and again. Faith leaned over, pulling his partner’s pale erection deep within his mouth, swallowing around the hot flesh as he added another finger. Vice was jerking in the restraints, testing the strength of the blood sling as his partner turned him into a meat puppet, dancing on the ends of his fingers. “So greedy.” Faith pulled off of Vice’s dick, licking at the flowing precum from the head. “So greedy for me!” He looked down and saw that the blood on his wrist was still flowing, so he directed it to cover his thrusting fingers before he added a third. Vice hissed, his eyes closing as he arched his hips before slamming them down and easily taking the fingers and begging for more. Growls and whimpers rolled from his throat as his facial ridges exploded, sending his whole body into spasms. “Not yet.” Faith blew over the purple head of his dick, making his partner shudder. “Not yet, baby.” A fourth finger was pressed into service and Faith growled, imagining that tight, strangling heat wrapped around his dick. But imagining it around his hand was almost as good. He pulled back, taking a few deep breaths before he lost it all together. He was barely hanging onto this little bitch of a beast, and the last thing he wanted to do was to give in before he thoroughly showed his partner who was boss. He wrapped his hand around his cock, giving it a few pumps to relieve some pressure, then once again grasped Vice’s dick, his other hand still twisting and thrusting softly within his mate’s body. Vice was going wild in the sling, bucking up into the fist that surrounded his cock then slamming back onto the fingers that impaled his body. Sweat began to glisten along his rippling muscles, and growls and snarls threatened his mate. He opened his eyes and bared his teeth, but Faith only smirked again. “Soon,” he promised, pulling his four fingers out of the tight sheath before tucking his thumb into his palm.

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’Til it Bleeds

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He pushed, licking his lips as he felt his partner’s ass spread almost incredibly wide before swallowing his hand over the knuckles and then down to his wrist. Vice stilled, his eyes widening until they resembled two large plates, then he opened his mouth and screamed. “Faith!” he bellowed. “Yes, Faith, you rotten bastard! You filthy fucker! Fuck me!” Growling his approval, Faith slowly fisted his hand, being sure to rub his knuckles along Vice’s prostate before he thrust shallowly. “Now.” Faith’s voice took on a dark demonic quality. “When I tell you to open your fucking mouth, what will you do?” Vice turned his head away, his body dancing but his stubborn beast demanding that he remain silent, that he let the anticipation and the tension build. “Oh, fight me, baby.” Faith bent over to whisper in his partner’s ear. “I love it when you fight me.” He opened his fist, twisted his hand and began to strum his fingers over his partner’s prostate, feeling his sheath clench around his hand, feeling his partner’s desperation increase, feeling his mate’s desire for fulfillment stiffen his body. And to add to the tension, he again took Vice’s dick into his mouth, running his fangs along the delicate surface before angling his head enough to swallow him deep down his throat. “Faith!” Vice pleaded, thrashing and twisting, trying to get anything free, to take back some small measure of control. But Faith was not having it. He fisted his hand again, stretching his partner into the burning possession, and began to thrust, swallowing in time to his movements. Vice was screaming now, his shrill cries filling the room, overcoming the sounds of slick flesh sliding against flesh, the excitement and pleasure obvious in his voice. Again, Faith pulled off his dick long enough to ask, “What the fuck do you do, Vice, when I tell you to fucking open your mouth?”

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’Til it Bleeds

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“O-Obey!” Vice finally gritted out, his eyes desperate, his hunger obvious as he surrendered to Faith’s possession, his submission eloquently demanding more. “That’s fucking right!” Abruptly, Faith pulled his hand out, his beast taking over as he rose to loom over his lover, a dark, fallen angel intent on ravishing Vice heart and soul. With his last rational thoughts, he aligned his cock to Vice’s swollen red ass, bent over and sucked Vice’s swollen tongue deep into his mouth, and plunged himself deep. Vice tore his mouth away and roared, his bellows of approval almost shaking the plaster off of the walls as he felt his mate sink deep. And Faith… Faith closed his eyes and hissed, all restraints on his beast disappearing before the bold offering of his lover. All reason was obliterated when his thick dick sank into that hot, slick, willing body. He felt the world disappear, their troubles vanish; he felt the love and regard his mate showed him through his surrender. And he was nearly undone. “’Til it fucking bleeds!” he snarled, leaning over his lover, releasing the restraints, and sighing in contentment when he felt those strong limbs encircle his body, trapping him, surrounding him with love, adoration, respect, and total understanding. “And beyond,” came the familiar refrain, the one that seemed to keep him going after near misses like today. “And beyond,” he repeated before their beasts demanded that their hunger be fulfilled. “And beyond.” Soon hungry moans and screams filled the room, and the pair within couldn’t give a tinker’s damn about lost artifacts or rabid under-investigators. For the moment, the only thing that existed was each other.

Chapter Six “Baltimore?” “Six-hour journey.” Faith rose to his feet and adjusted the fit of his jacket. “Pack light. Baltimore in the summer is hot as hell.” Chuckling, Vice rolled his eyes at his partner’s comments and reached for his jacket. “Portal?” “Portal.” “Fuck.” Vice walked over to his partner. “I really hate that void.” Faith closed his eyes and concentrated on emptying his mind. Within seconds, they received permission from the Guild, and the appropriate spells were sent. “Here we go,” Faith breathed just as the spell took hold. He dropped to his knees as his head flew backwards, the power flowing from his eyes and mouth. A wave of black enveloped them both, cold blackness that sucked the light and heat from both their bodies. After what was actually seconds but seemed to be hours, Faith and Vice tumbled into a large living room, hitting the hard, shiny, honey-colored wood floors with a thump. “My head,” Vice grunted, then reached down to help his partner to his feet, wincing as the light struck his eyes. “My body,” Faith groaned, shaking his head and rising to his feet. “My God!” a voice gasped. “How did you find me?” Vice looked over toward the door where a man stood, frozen in shock. The fear rolled off him in waves. “Easy, Mr. Peerson,” Faith pulled himself together enough to say. “It’s quite simple when you follow the trail of demonic relics.”

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’Til it Bleeds

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“Demon… There are no demons here!” the man stuttered, backing away. “I don’t believe in them.” “There are demons here, Mr. Peerson,” Vice laughed, tossing his red hair behind him as he advanced on Peerson, blocking the door and preventing his escape. “And you are looking at two of them now.” “No!” the man whimpered, backing away from the crazed person who was now in his Roland Park estate. “No! You are lying.” “No.” Faith took up the lead in the conversation. “We are the only honest demons you have met. I do believe you have met an associate of ours…” “Vitelli!” the man gasped. “You are the two he sent his goons after.” “And his pet demon as well.” “Pet demon?” Peerson looked at Faith, both curiosity and fear vying for control in his eyes. They finally settled on curiosity. After all, he hadn’t been murdered just yet. “Demon that tore through the tent and apparently the body of your friend…” “Hargrove.” Suddenly Peerson looked several years older than he had before, both Vice and Faith watching the man age right before their eyes. “I thought… I knew that there was something wrong… Hargrove is… dead?” “He was lunch for a minor demon with delusions of glory.” Vice rolled his eyes and walked deeper into the room. It appeared Peerson wasn’t going to make a break for it. “We took care of the demon.” “And now you’re here to take care of me.” Peerson seemed resigned. “No.” Faith shook his head. “We are here to help you.” “Why would I believe you?” Suddenly Peerson seemed to grow angry -- angry with them, with the whole situation, with the turn his life had taken. “I mean, this man shows up at my door and tells me the story of how my ancestors were friends of his ancestors’. I buy this because everyone knows that our forefathers were in a club together, grew up together, even settled in the same area. But I trust this man because he is telling me things that only a close family member or a close friend would know. He says his ancestors started the church that my great-grandfather started along with

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’Til it Bleeds

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Hargrove and the others, and that he needed the ugly, gaudy necklaces that we’ve had for generations. Then he shows me Gretel’s, Harrison’s, and Blakeley’s necklaces, said that they gave theirs up for the cause, for the resurgence of the church.” The man began to pace, his face twisted in anger and uncertainty as he turned to face his two visitors. “But I get funny feelings from this guy, like there’s more to his story. Charles -Hargrove -- was taken in by this man’s promise of power. He wanted the fame and the glory, and I was content to live my life as it was. But I let him… I let my best friend talk me into this, and now you’re saying that this man, this Vitelli, is a demon and is responsible for the death of my best friend?” “You… are taking this rather well,” Faith mused, after a moment of silence. “I am not taking anything fucking well!” Peerson shouted, advancing and gripping Faith by the lapels of his leather jacket. “Why should I fucking believe you, believe any of this?” In a flash, Faith let his beast out, his eye ridges growing in thick as his eyes became a solid red. Then he reined in the beast, forcing it back into the void where it rested until it was called. Peerson had paled and now stumbled back, flopping onto the ground, missing the chair he was aiming for. “As I was saying,” Faith continued, “we are here to protect you. Your ugly necklace is a relic from your forefathers. It was used by them to murder and banish a Guild Unit.” At his puzzled expression, Faith gave him more information. “The Guild is an organization run by… well, that’s not important, but our mission is to stop mere human beings from dabbling in the occult and summoning things they shouldn’t.” “Like demons and shit,” Vice added, leaning against a wall and crossing his ankles, observant but not adding much.

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’Til it Bleeds

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“We have,” Faith continued, “for centuries, policed and protected the masses from themselves. A unit is a matched and paired set of engineered human --” “You guys aren’t human!” Peerson stammered. “We are neither human nor demon, but a hybrid creature born of a demonic parent and a willing human host. Vice --” He nodded to his partner. “-- has his demonic ancestry from a crazed Adramelech who got off on killing human children…” “And bathing in their blood,” Vice added, snickering as Peerson paled. “It was difficult growing up. Mother enjoyed the slaughter. I never kept any good playmates. It’s amazing that I’m somewhat sane.” “And I, well, have the pleasure of controlling an Asmodai, a lust demon that my mother took to her bed. Through the wonders of magic and science, they mix the egg and sperm, add some chanting and incantations of the high mages, and you get… us.” “Luck of the draw,” Vice chuckled. “You never know what you get in the mix.” “But we were created to blend into human society and protect you from doing what you were just about to do. Your friend Hargrove was not so lucky and found out that mixing in the occult is not good for your health.” “Do we really have to warn you?” Vice asked, raising one red eyebrow and staring down at Peerson with hungry, pale eyes. “You do know we have to stop you by any means necessary, and I do mean by any means.” He allowed his fangs to drop, and smirked as Peerson whimpered in fear. “Take it!” the man cried out, reaching into his pants pocket to pull out the charm. “Take it and be done with this! I never wanted any of this! I never conceived… There is nothing that would make me betray…” “Your church, your faith, your parents, your house… am I getting close?” Vice snorted, walking over and snatching the necklace. “Your kind disgusts me. You just blindly follow along where you are led, never questioning, never suspecting, never protecting yourself and those around you. And when the shit hits the fan, you’re the first cowardly bastard to skip out.” He leaned forward, looking directly into Peerson’s face as he delivered his final words. “You disgust me!”

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’Til it Bleeds

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“Vice,” Faith sighed. “Let us relieve the good man --” He shook his head as Peerson cowered in shame. “-- and return this to the Guild. I have a feeling this is not… over.”

Chapter Seven “I hate those types.” Vice ran his hands over his arms, as if washing away the stench of the human they’d just left a lesser man than when he’d returned to his Roland Park home. “Stupid, weak, and mindless. They’ll go along with anything or not say anything until the shit goes bad. Then they’re all about protecting their asses.” “Perhaps you judge them too harshly.” Faith placed his hand on his partner’s shoulder, feeling the muscles bunch beneath the thin shirt and jacket he wore. “Perhaps…” “Perhaps you should give me what I need.” They both turned to see the last thing either of them expected. Faith’s eyes narrowed in anger while Vice began to growl deep in his throat. Vitelli stood there before them, a hungry, eager look in his eyes. “Itis mine! Give it to me!” Faith took one moment to glance at his partner, then they were both running, separating and encircling Vitelli right on Peerson’s palatial front lawn. “I’ve earned this!” Vitelli bellowed, eyes trying to track both men at once and failing. “I’ve suffered under that sanctimonious group known as the Guild, and I have suffered at the hands of you so-called units. We’re all slaves to the same group of madmen! You have suffered at their hands as well, being sent out to --” “Will you just shut up?” Vice called out. “You’re getting on my nerves! My head’s aching with all of your prattle!” “Prattle? You call the truth… omph!” Vitelli never noticed Faith rushing him. Faith’s fist connected neatly with his chin, knocking the man back, making him stumble to regain his balance. “You talk too fucking much.”

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’Til it Bleeds

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Roaring, Vitelli recovered his stance and then dove at Faith, only to be knocked forward by a blow to his back. Stumbling, he turned to face Vice. “You… You hit me in the back!” “It was me,” he snickered, then lunged again, making Vitelli leap back. “Missed! Damn it!” “Why do you fight?” Vitelli screamed, backing off and staring in disbelief at the fighting unit. “You know that they will never treat you with respect!” “Well, it’s better than dealing with a peddler in demon flesh,” Vice snorted. “I want the Hands!” Vitelli snarled, all semblance of humanity fading away from his face. “I’ve earned them! With them I will --” “Rule the world,” Vice laughed. “Rule the world, destroy the world, control all of demon kind. We’ve heard it all before.” “I will destroy the Guild!” he screamed, his face twisting as he lost control. “For far too long they’ve hunted me! For far too long they’ve interfered! For far too long they have made the decisions as to whether humans have the right to speak with --” “The demons who will murder them?” Faith asked, rolling his eyes. “Those are the words of a true demon, Vitelli. Or of a madman.” “I am a realist!” the man screamed, a ragged set of fangs erupting from his mouth, sending splatters of blood to spray against the green grass. “I know what will happen to our kind! We are trapped between forms, neither human nor demon! Is that what you want? To be slaves forever?” “Slaves to you or slaves to them?” Faith asked. “You will never understand,” Vitelli bellowed, a set of ridges slowly growing over his brown eyes, his breathing becoming ragged and harsh. “That smell again,” Vice snarled, his own beast reacting to the evil permeating the air. “Smells like death.” “Smells like failure,” Faith chuckled, allowing his own beast to seep out. “And ain’t that a damn shame!” Before they could do more, there was a bright flash and a feeling of intense cold.

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’Til it Bleeds

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Faith and Vice opened their eyes to find themselves, of all places, back at the Guild. “What…” Faith began, but was cut off as the voice of their Control sounded in his head. “Wonderful work, Unit. Now it is time to rest and recover.” Before either of them could speak, the room was flooded with light, and several knowing humans rushed forward, stripping the pair of their clothing, ignoring the growls and threatening looks. “We almost had him!” Vice bellowed, his beast fighting mad at the violence it had been denied. “And we would not have the location of the artifacts,” Control continued. This time its voice filled the room. “And who gives a fuck about that?” Vice screamed, looking around the room, wanting to hurt something -- anything. He calmed a bit as Faith walked over and placed his hand on his partner’s shoulder. “Because of you, we have a description and a magical signature to place on Vitelli,” Control continued. “We are now sending in a new unit, one better equipped for search and seizure. You two are on leave until we need to eliminate Vitelli.” “Who?” “Not your concern.” Control’s voice sounded absolute. “Relax and enjoy your leave.” Then the humans disappeared, leaving Faith and Vice in a huge room that contained a large tub, a bed, and no way out. “Sometimes, I truly hate them.” Vice sounded deeply angry. Faith sighed, tugging his partner over to the bed, wrapping his arms around the irate red head. “I share your sentiment. But I really feel for the unit who has to go after him next.” “Meat puppets,” Vice muttered. “We are nothing more than meat puppets.”

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’Til it Bleeds

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“Makes rebellion sound all the more… reasonable,” Faith muttered low enough for only his partner to hear. Vice nodded, but said nothing. It was too late. The seeds had been planted. Who knew where they would grow from there?

Stephanie Burke Stephanie Burke, known to friends and readers as Flash, has a warped, twisted sense of humor, and she isn’t afraid to let it show. From pregnant men to six-foot cockroaches, she’s covered the gamut of the weird, the unusual, and the just plain strange. She has about five million books currently in publication with one house or another, all under the name of Stephanie Burke. She says she won’t use a pen name -she’d have to learn how to spell it. Too much like work. Visit her website at www.theflashcat.net and be sure to join Flash’s “Flame Keeper” loop at Yahoo! Groups -- http://groups.yahoo.com/group/FlameKeeper/join.