Page 19 of Capturing Sin

Icleared my throat. I had to get my shit together and do my damned job. Another freak-out would only derail my newfound purpose.

Apparently I thought all demons looked the same, and I’d become a demon racist on top of all my other crimes against them.

I flipped the lights on, bathing the room in their harsh glare.

The demon hissed, squinting at me, but stayed in the middle of his cell, weaponised tail swaying like a viper ready to strike.

They’d assigned me the smallest of the seven labs, a storage room in its past life. A scuffed workbench took up half the usable space, and the glass cell at the back claimed the other. Flimsy cabinets lined the walls, and a yellowed mini fridge hummed in the corner.

It was basic, but it would do.

I didn’t exactly need much to inject dubious substances and feed myself to a monster.

Martin’s instructions lurked in neat cursive on a crisp sheet of paper resting on the stainless steel worktop. Why he couldn’t just email me the notes was beyond me, but the secret nature of our work made him almost as paranoid as my uncle.

As I’d expected, his first instruction was to take a baseline.

“Of course,” I muttered.

Dread coiled in my gut.

I was really doing this.

I replaced the sheet and turned to face my fears.

The demon watched me, unblinking.

Instinct screamed at me not to do this. It went against every ounce of logic to get closer to a starved predator.

What did one even say to the demon you were about to feed?

Open wide, here comes the aeroplane? I hope you’re hungry? Try not to choke?

An inappropriate chuckle spilled out as I stepped up to the barrier separating us.

The demon quirked an arctic brow, looking down at me like I was the dirt under his claws. “Something funny, hunter?”

Well, my whole life was a joke, but I didn’t think I’d get much sympathy from my captive.

I clamped my lips closed, shaking my head. “So…um, I’m going to feed you now.”

His tail stilled, eyes searching my empty hands. “I don’t want your dead blood.”

He didn’t just mean from a corpse. Bagged blood was considered “dead” to them too, which was part of the reason these tests were so important. For a demon like him, feeding off a live person was the sole source of boosted nourishment.

“I’m aware.” I unlocked the hatch in the thick plexiglass screen. Sliding the window open to the first notch, around the width of my forearm, I secured it into place using the mechanism at the side.

Most of the labs and cells used traditional steel bars to hold demons, but my uncle had given me the only one with bullet-proof glass. The bars were cheaper and easier to find, but you had to watch out for a demon’s jabbing tail or getting clawed if you strayed too close.

I was getting as close as one could. I’d already be at this parasite’s mercy with his fangs in my flesh, but at least I wouldn’t have to worry about his spiked tail shredding my face too.

I clenched my fist and held my forearm up to the open hatch, careful not to poke my hand through in case he ripped my arm off. As it was, my arm blocked him from reaching through and grabbing me, but he could still decide to slit my wrist with his claws. Or tear through my flesh with his fangs like the bastard blood demon had done to Rhia last night.

If my subject had been caught recently, he’d probably still be at full strength. Feeding him regularly wouldn’t help the physical power imbalance between us, but there wasn’t much I could do about it.

I fished out the small remote from my pocket and held it up so the demon could see. “This is connected to your collar. Try to hurt me, and you’ll receive a little…punishment.”

The thought of using it on anyone, even a parasitic blood demon, turned my stomach. But there was already a fair chance this experiment would get me killed.

---