The prey called him “Meph.” But wasn’t that the weak one’s name? He knew he had his own designation, but it was long and contained too many syllables for him to remember, and he didn’t care for it.
But he did rememberhername.
The demon’s head cocked as the master tightened his punishing grip around the prey’s throat. He lifted her until her tiny feet kicked for purchase on the floor. Her green eyes were brimming with fear.
Fear.The demon was so hungry. He searched about the room and found nothing to eat except her.
Her and the master.But he did not feed from the master. The master supplied things for feeding, but he himself was not to be consumed.
It was a logical relationship. Why would he eat his provider? Then he would have to obtain sustenance by himself. The master deserved his obedience.
At least, that was what he told himself. Yet somewhere inside, a part of him questioned things. The master had inflicted great pain upon him, and he ought to have felt wrathful. He certainly wouldn’t let another get away with such treatment. But it had been so long, and there was always so much hunger clouding his thoughts that he could no longer discern the truth.
Still, he didn’t want the master to have this particular prey. He wanted it for himself.
The master began stalking away, the witch dangling in his grip, her struggles lessening in strength.
“Isss.”
She didn’t respond to him as she had the other times.
The demon followed as she was dragged toward the ritual chamber, oddly dissatisfied by her lack of response. The first times he’d made the name sound, her eyes had sparkled with excitement.
Gliding forward, he outpaced the master and blocked his path.
“Stand aside, Mephistopheles,” he growled. “This one is not for you. I have plans for her.”
The demon hissed.
The master reached into his coat, and the demon flinched. Without even seeing it, he knew what was coming.
“Move now.” With his free hand, the master pulled out the bullwhip. It unfurled at his side with a flick of his wrist. “You don’t want me to have to use this, do you?”
The demon shrank back. He didn’t like pain, and centuries of conditioning had taught him that the use of that whip equaled pain beyond measure. It wasn’t just the hellfire lashes it could deliver; it was the hours or even weeks of punishment that followed.
“Very good,” the master said calmly, lowering the whip. “Fear not, I’ll reward you with an ample feast later.”
But the demon wantedthisprey, not another.
Unbidden, a recollection of his last fear illusion surfaced. He always saw what his prey saw, but it didn’t affect him beyond the satisfaction of the terror pouring off his victims in waves.
But this vision was different. There had been no fear.
You make me a better person. You might think you’re some dark, demented beast, but to me, you’re a ray of goddamn sunshine.
The weak one had stirred at those words, fighting to rise from his confinement. It was easy to keep him contained—he was soft and vulnerable and full of fears—but something about that gave him strength.
Ineedyou, Meph. I can’t do this alone anymore.
The demon watched as the master began dragging the prey down the passage again, her slender form so vulnerable against his powerful one as she struggled in vain. Any second, they were going to disappear around the corner, and she would be gone.
Listen up, you dumb-fuck motherfucker.
The voice came from nowhere.
Val is dragging our witch away to do fuck knows what with, and you’re just standing there drooling like a dipshit. Get off your ass and go get her!
The demon stiffened. He spun his head around in all directions, searching for the source of the voice, only to realize it had come from within him.
