I soooo want to see the back end of this freakin story and since I'm running out of ways to
“The creature. It was straight out of a Cronenberg movie. Straight up Dr. Monreau shit. Like a rabid orangutan crossed with a mangy bear, crossed with… with f**king ugly.
"And,” he swallowed, staring at his clenched fists, “Evil. It was pure evil.”
Alejandro slid a slim cigarillo from his shirt pocket as Nate spoke, now he took his own sweet time lighting it up.
“So, you are saying this thing was a monster.” He blew a thin stream of smoke out of the side of his mouth. “You know, the same could be said of us.”
“Except we don’t feed on each other.”
Silence fell, so complete Nate strained to hear the whisper of the curling plumes of smoke as they rose to the ceiling.
“Not usually.” It was said so quietly, he doubted his hearing.
Nate studied Alejandro’s impassive expression and his stomach knotted. He removed the cocoa leaves from his mouth, dropping them in the bedside wastebasket.
“That thing is one of us, isn’t it? I mean, one of you,” he stressed.
continue after the break...
He should have seen it before. Given the secretive nature of the Elders and their rumored powers, it made sense Beth’s killer would be one of them.
“And you know who he is.”
Energy surged through Nate for the first time in eight months. That other formless thing he’d sensed inside himself since the attack took shape—a burning hatred that grew claws and teeth and grew in strength. Enough strength that he ignored the surge of nausea in his gut and his suddenly blurred vision, and swung his legs off the bed.
“Do not get up.” The soft command made Nate pause, but he was primed now, coiled for action.
“Actually, we don’t know his identity.” Alejandro leaned forward. “Whoever he is, he’s been one of the most reclusive members of our kind before this recent killing spree.”
A phantom fist knuckled hard against Nate’s chest. “There’ve been more victims.”
“Yes,” came out as a hiss, the only betrayal of emotion the other shifter revealed. Alejandro’s face became a tight mask behind which something dangerous glittered.
“But you know him, Nathan. You know his scent. So I ask again, what are you doing here? What do you want?”
Anger washed him with prickly heat. The Elder was mocking him. What he wanted he’d never have. Not now; they both knew it. His sudden spate of energy flushed away as he endured Alejandro’s scrutiny, knew what the other man saw—the dark circles under his eyes, the sallow complexion and gaunt face, his lank hair, and emancipated body.
“Of course you know you’re dying.”
Nate’s bark of laughter turned into a coughing fit. “Your bedside manner sucks t’aint hairs, dude.”
“I do not know these hairs you speak of, but I do not suck them. I suck p*$$y, my friend, and I like it shaved clean.” Alejandro flashed a brief lascivious smile. “But this is off topic, yes?
“We are not doctors here. Yet the fact remains you have been infected by this Pithcus. Even for a shifter, with your superior physiology, the survival rate is not good.” He shrugged. “I have told you nothing you haven’t suspected yourself.”
Nate swallowed. It was true.
“You came here to die.”