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Part I

DEMON

Chapter 1

The outpost gate creaked in the wind, swinging back on its hinges It knocked lightly against the wall, a rhyth silence A cold breeze swirled through the gap, and the scent of blood lay on the air like a heavy blanket

“He’s been here,” Kanin ainst the falling snow, arded the fence iht black hair

“Is there any point in going in?”

“Sarren knoe’re following him” was the low reply

“He meant for us to see this He wants us to know that he knows There will likely be soate”

Footsteps crunched over the snow as Jackal stalked around us, black duster rippling behind hiate “Well then,” he said, the tips of his fangs showing through his grin, “if he went through all the trouble of setting this up, we shouldn’t keep the psycho waiting, should we?”

He started forward, his step confident as he strode through the broken gate toward the tiny settlement beyond After a moment’s hesitation, Kanin and I followed

The sh nothing moved on the narrow path that snaked between houses The flimsy wood and tin shanties were silent, dark, as we ventured deeper, passing snow-covered porches and e looked intact, undisturbed

There were no bodies No corpses mutilated in their beds, no blood spattered over the walls of the few homes we ducked into There weren’t even any dead animals in the tiny trampled pasture past the main strip Just snow and emptiness

And yet, the s thick in the air, er roar to life I bit it down, grittingin frustration It had been too long I needed food The scent of blood was driving me crazy, and the fact that there were no humans here made me furious Where were they? It wasn’t possible that an entire outpost of mortals had up and disappeared without a trace

And then, as we followed the path around the pasture and up to the huge barn at the top of the rise, we found the townspeople

A massive barren tree stood beside the barn, twisted branches clawing at the sky They swayed beneath the weight of dozens of bodies hanging upside down froing in the breeze, dangling arms stiff and white Their throats had been cut, and the base of the tree was stained black, the blood spilled and wasted in the snow But the sardless, and I clenchedmy insides with fiery talons

“Well,” Jackalat the tree, “isn’t that festive?” His voice was tight as if he, too, was on the edge of losing it “I’le bloodbag fro his head, lips curling back fro to piss me off”

I sed the Hunger, trying to focus through the gnawing ache “Why, JaJackal was the only thing that keptelse He rolled his eyes