Warm blood sprayed her, and someone screamed. She tasted blood in her mouth, its sweet, rich flavor making her human instincts clamor.

But god, was it so good! She drank deeply before her emotions caught up with her. A combination of disgust and hunger filled her.

Deidre opened her eyes and released the body of the man much larger than her. He dropped to her feet, and she stared.

His neck was ripped out, the way she'd seen Darkyn do before to his demons when they tried to attack her during her second day in Hell. The dead man's exposed skin showed the signs of being shredded by her nails. Blood dripped from her fingers and mouth.

Staring at the damage she'd done, she wasn't able to decipher exactly what she felt. Shock that she'd taken out someone so much bigger than her, disappointment the blood did nothing to whet her appetite and horror that she was losing the part of her that was human.

Satisfaction that she'd just proven beyond a doubt she was the wife of the devil.

The bathing chamber was silent, and her demon senses told her the only other living life was Karma.

"You did it!" the goddess cried, startling her. Her features glowed, her eyes white-grey and her hair slowly settling.

"Yeah," Deidre managed, staring at the bodies at her feet. Her head was pounding, her internal war to keep from diving into the blood pooling beneath one of the dealer's absorbing her concentration. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve and grimaced at the amount of blood covering her white clothing.

The deity was smiling, any judgment Deidre feared absent from Karma's whirling eyes and possessed hair.

"You get to claim their souls," Karma said cheerfully.

"I don't think I can do that."

"It's simple. Touch one and tell him to come to you."

Deidre shook her head, uncertain if she wanted to weep at what she'd done or wallow happily in blood. Her body trembled, and she regarded her bloodied clothing briefly. "I need to change," she whispered. "I feel dirty."

"Karma thinks you should wear black. We might have to kill more. Blood won't show up on black as much."

Deidre nodded and fled through the dead to the bedchamber, at once relieved by the absence of heavy, humid air and scent of blood. She went to the wardrobe and started to pull out more clothing, when it hit her.

She'd killed four men, using the devil's magic, and even drunk the blood of one. Her adrenaline faded.

What if, one day, the demon side of her replaced her humanity? What if she slid into the depths of Hell and lost herself?




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