Beast of the Damned #2

*Chapter Nineteen*

~ TRISTAN ~

Lies. They are woven into the fabric of an immortal being like the oxygen that pumps through the humans making their hearts tick and lungs expand and contract. The lies we tell ourselves. The lies we tell others. The lies we keep buried beneath the surface.

Humans tell lies because they are ashamed or think they are protecting someone. They lie to get ahead, to cheat the system, to gain power through manipulation. The lies I've told serve but a singular purpose.

The day the Prince of Darkness tore my soul in half and condemned all the parts of me he despised, the parts rightfully ordained to me by my mother, he made an egregious error. He should have left the part of me that loved Kinley with the half that belongs to my father. I'll blame it on his arrogance. The lie he told himself.

When the Dark Prince banished me into the hidden depths of my own flesh, he thought it impossible I would break free. The world thought the Beast of the Damned rose when my other half raised the firstborn from the Underworld. Even my other half thought he had become whole. But the Prince and my father knew, for the true Beast of the Damned would never kneel to anyone.

All eyes are on me and the glistening burgundy trail smearing across the glossy white floor, ruining the pristine and sterilized structure of those that live in Cistoca. It's 6:55 am, time for Group C to make their way to the mess hall.

The female humans scatter in front of me, the vampire charged with keeping their orderly two-row formation yells at them to place their backs on the wall. It isn't a needed order. The humans are scurrying fine on their own, the sight of the angels I've gutted and butchered offensive to their mortal sensitivities.

It's been thousands of years since I've had the pleasure of hunting angel. Most of them appear to have fled back to the Heavens. But, for these two, it's hard to fly home with one wing. Here on the earth, spirit energy can only get a celestial being so far. If only I could figure out a way to sink my fangs into their hearts before they go poof.

Feasting on angel ribs will have to suffice.

Group D is already in the mess hall. They are the ones close to aging out.

I pick the table in the corner. The human's nearest me jolt in their seats as I hoist the rewards of my hunting spree onto the table and set to work separating the ribs from their exposed spines. There aren't many options in the ways of butchering angels without nicking their hearts. One nick equals no feasting. You have to dismember them alive. I find the bloody dragonfly works best. It takes a lot of the same skills and techniques as keeping their wings attached to their spines. Remove the sternal keel, remove the guts, leave the heart. The heart must stay pumping. Angels bleed, but they can't bleed out and die. It's like open-heart surgery without anesthetic.

Several of the humans next to me scramble, some with hands over their mouths looking like they are about to hurl and others carting their tray of food along with them. Speed is the name of this next move. Two slices of my blade and I've got one set of perfectly delectable ribs. Two more cuts and I've got two.

The pumping hearts spill out onto the table with no cage to keep them contained. Group C enters right as I sit down, twisting the ribs apart so that I may enjoy them one by one.

The female vampire from my army shuffles the girls along into the line of food being served. She says nothing to me as I gnaw on my delicious treat, blood pooling and dripping off the table. I'm starving. There wasn't time for my other half to feed since the battle at the coliseum and it shows. Or maybe it's because what I'm really hungry for is out of reach.