Page 5 of Thane's Demon
Every part of me screamed at the word son…
But I could not look away.
2
THE NIGHT THAT NEVER ENDS
Dominic Draven had barely stepped out of my apartment before the air felt wrong, thick enough to choke on. His presence lingered like a stain on the walls, a pressure in the corners, a heaviness I could not shake, no matter how many breaths I dragged in. Every visit from him left the demon in me restless, prowling and snarling beneath my skin, but tonight was worse. The Seal, the promises, the quiet ache in his voice, and that damned word ‘son’ still scraped along my ribs like broken glass.
I needed to get out.
My demon pushed hard from the inside, urging me toward the neon-soaked streets, whispering for release, chaos, and the kind of emotions that did not belong to me. I stepped outside and let Shanghai swallow me whole, the city humming with its usual cocktail of irritation, frustration, exhaustion, and despair. It rolled toward me like a tide, heavy and bitter, and my demon inhaled it with a greedy rumble, taking in the raw human mess as if it were the only thing keeping us alive.
It skimmed past the flickers of happiness glowing off a handful of souls, uninterested in the warm, bright emotions thatnever fed us, never quieted the ache. Instead, it hunted for the darkness threaded between broken dreams and quiet suffering, devouring the resentment clinging to overworked bodies and the anger simmering beneath forced smiles.
Those emotions were fuel, sharp and metallic in the air, seeping into my bloodstream until I could feel the city’s pain pulsing beneath my skin like a second heartbeat. And with every breath I took, the demon pressed closer, fighting to crawl upward. No doubt certain that, out there in the shadows, lay something worth losing control for, something worth tearing the night apart to reach.
I let my feet carry me into the darker arteries of the city, moving past the bright storefronts and tourist traps until everything softened into shadow. These streets had their own pulse, different from the polished surface of Nanjing Road. This was the underbelly, where nothing clean survived, where the filth of human nature gathered in its most honest form.
Alleyways twisted in sharp directions, the walls damp with humidity, the ground slick with puddles that reflected fractured neon. Stray dogs watched me from doorways with wide, wary eyes, recognizing something that did not belong. The demon hummed with pleasure at the scents rising around us, the stale alcohol, the cheap cigarettes, the anxiety rolling off the people who lived their lives between these narrow streets.
I moved first past the gambling den, a place with peeling red paint and cracked lanterns that sputtered like dying fireflies. Men crowded around tables inside, shouting with desperation as they threw down what remained of their money. Every win felt like a scream for hope, and every loss tasted like despair, thick and suffocating. My demon savored each broken emotion, pressing closer to my ribs, pushing me toward the door, urging me to touch, to take, to claim.
I ignored it… for now.
Further on, I passed the loan sharks, leaning against the sides of their cars with baseball bats slung casually over their shoulders. Their victims crept forward like ghosts, begging for more time, offering whatever valuables or dignity they had left. The fear here was richer, darker, a slow rotting thing that clung to the air. My demon tasted it instantly and pushed hard from within, wanting more. Once again, urging me to step closer, to let it climb out, to let it feed fully.
Not here.
Not yet.
I continued deeper, toward the underground club buried beneath a crumbling building. Even from outside, I could feel the vibration of the bass, the thrum of bodies packed together, the desperation of people trying to forget themselves for a few hours. Drugs scented the air, sweet and chemical, mixing with lust and loneliness and all the human weaknesses that had always fascinated my demon. I could feed from the outskirts of it, taking the edge off by siphoning the wild emotions without laying a finger on anyone.
But it was never enough.
The demon grew hotter, sharper, pushing images into my mind with brutal speed. Bones snapping under my hands. The copper rush of blood hitting my tongue. The sound of a heart slowing down. The relief of violence. The release of control. My skin buzzed with the phantom sensations, and I clenched my hands until my knuckles ached, digging my heels into the ground to stop myself from moving toward the nearest heartbeat.
A flash of movement caught my eye. A storefront window, warped with grime, reflecting just enough of me to stop me cold. For a moment, I stared at the creature staring back. Tall, too broad for the narrow street, shoulders tense beneath the black shirt stretched over muscle carved by years of fighting things nomortal had names for. My hair hung in dark, uneven strands that brushed the collar of my jacket, shadows pooling beneath eyes that burned a deep, unnatural blue when the demon stirred.
Tonight, they glowed bright enough to cut through the glass. My jaw looked harsher than I remembered, stubble shadowing the sharp lines I’d inherited from him, and my mouth was set in that same grim slash I’d seen on Dominic’s face more times than I wanted to admit. I looked like violence wrapped in skin, a man built to break things, a monster among people who had no idea what walked near them. No wonder they always sensed me before they saw me.
No wonder the demon liked what it saw.
I forced myself onward until I reached a narrow alley where two men were mid-argument, their faces red, their breathing sharp, their anger thick enough to taste. One shoved the other, snarling a curse, and the emotional spike hit like a jolt straight to my demon’s core. It rose immediately, its voice curling inside me, urging me to take advantage of the fear. To push them deeper into their terror until they broke. I stepped forward before I even consciously made the decision.
Both men froze the moment they sensed me. Humans always did. They could not explain it, but they felt the threat, the wrongness, the shadow that clung to me, no matter how much I tried to shrink myself down. One stumbled backward, eyes wide, while the other struggled to breathe as invisible pressure crushed down on him. I let the demon drink in their fear, let it pull the darkest memories from their minds, let it feed until it purred beneath my skin.
It stopped, finally, after I felt the tension in my shoulders loosen slightly, as if the violence had been enough to soothe it for a moment. I steadied myself and stepped away, leaving the two shaking men in the alley, their terror lingering like a scent in the air.
Usually, feeding like this helped.
Usually, it made me feel anchored again.
Not tonight.
No, tonight my demon tasted something else. Something still lingering from my encounter with Dominic. Something ancient and pulsing and dangerous.
The Seal.
