Remembrance: written by Kora Knight & Raven Foxx
"Dark Plans Begin to Form"
Jazz woke up grumpy. He was out of coffee and had a raging morning woody. With a scowl, he yanked on some jeans and his jacket. Completely bypassing a shirt, he gingerly buttoned up his fly. Feet shoved into heavy boots, as a hand raked irritably through his bed head. A grunt in his throat, he stalked to the door, yanked the thing open and headed for the corner store.
“Coffee,” he muttered under his breath. “Need some coffee.”
Not ten minutes later he was exiting the coffee shop. Completely focused on his jo as opposed to where he was going, he plowed right into a half-pint female. Down went his bag of Krispy Kreme donuts.
“Oh damn,” he apologized gruffly, reaching down to swipe up his goods. “Sorry. I guess I’m still asleep.” As he stood back up to his full 6’2” height, he got a better look at his disgruntled victim. She was glaring poison darts at him. His brows shot high. “Whoa! I said I was sorry. I haven’t had my coffee yet and I'm still...” His words drifted away as her eyes only narrowed further. He cringed. “Geez, what’s with the venom, woman? It was an accident.” An odd vibe slithered under his skin. He froze, realizing it was coming from the little hater. “What the fuck?”
The female shifted where she stood, as if sensing his sudden unease, then quickly shrugged a shoulder. “I guess I just don’t like getting steamrolled.” She smirked. “Sue me.”
Jazz blinked down at her, her dry grin sending him conflicting messages. But shit, that wicked smile she had going on was hotter than hell. “Um... yeah, well I ah... I guess I ah,” he stammered. “I guess I wouldn't either.” He paused, tilting his head to study her further, that odd sensation she was putting off humming steady in his mental radar. “Do I know you from somewhere? You feel strangely… familiar.”
She gave him a knowing look, smiled fully with a shake of her head. “No way. I’d remember a looker like you.”
His brows dipped as her aura sizzled quietly. This female was setting his sonar completely off kilter. She wasn't human. He was pretty damn confident of that. But what she was, he couldn't tell. She was… more; something darkish, ambiguous. Jazz gripped his bag tighter as his insides jerked in realization. Oh man, she was a mixed-blood. And a wicked mix at that. He'd never come into contact with a hybrid like her before. He should be cursing, but instead his lips curved into an intrigued grin.
“I've never met any such as you.” He glanced around quickly. “So, where are you um... from?”
She frowned at his question. “Here and there.”
Jazz lifted a brow. “You have issues with dishing where you're from?” He moved closer as people bumped past, trying to enter the store. She however, didn't move back as he invaded her personal space. He studied her. “And how come you’re out all by your lonesome? This is New York City, for fucks sake. It can get a little seedy around here.”
“Maybe I like seedy,” she laughed.
Jazz chuckled just as someone bumped him on their way by. His close proximity to his new acquaintance has him briefly brushing against her. He stiffened abruptly as a peculiar energy coursed into him. Before he could stop himself, he gritted down at her, “What ARE you?”
A flicker of anxiousness darkened her features. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Rude much?” With that, she turned to go, casting Jazz one last glare over her shoulder.
Jazz cursed. “Fuck. Wait. I didn't mean to-” He reached out and grabbed her arm, then winced when she glared down at his hand. Her eyes flashed fire as she glowered back up at him. He immediately let go, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He quickly cleared his throat. “I wasn't trying to be rude,” he tried again. “It’s just... when I touched you I...” He shook head, shrugging. “I dunno. It was weird.”
She studied him for a long moment, then finally turned fully around. “You must not get much physical contact,” she chuckled softly. “Or social interaction, for that matter. If you ever want to score a woman, whether she be a good girl...” her eyes glittered sinfully as she leaned in close, “or bad, you’re going to have to work on your manners.”
Jazz’s eyes dipped to half-mast as her breath skittered across his cheek. She was intriguing, smelled ironically of angel food cake. He murmured down at her, before he could stop himself. “I can be very polite when I want to be.”
She regarded him for another lingering minute, then grinned wide. “Good to know.” She held out her hand. “I’m Zayta, by the way.”
Jazz exhaled, gracing her with a smile of his own. “Jazz,” he chuckled, taking her hand.
“Jazz,” she purred, giving him a long, appreciative once-over. “Very nice to meet you. I do so hope to see you around.”
Before he could respond, she pivoted on her heel and walked away. He watched her go, taking in every luscious sway of her hips until she ducked around the corner. He sighed, absently sliding a hand over the iron still bulging beneath his fly. Now he not only needed coffee but a nice cold shower.
* * * * *
Seth’s son, Anton, strode down the dark corridor, passing grim faces as he went. They were waiting their turn to get their asses reamed by his father. He shook his head at the sorry trio and pushed open a large, double door. Inside the sconce-lit room, his father had some stray female servicing him, feeding him her blood. She’d sliced her wrist and was pouring her blood into a sleek wine glass. As she handed her master the chalice, her sickly-pale skin seemed to glow. It was a miracle she could still bleed to feed him, Anton thought. At his father’s feet, she took her seat, a glazed look in her eyes as she waited for him to drink. Anton shut the double doors and walked farther into the room. Stopping in front of his father, he bowed his head and waited to be noticed, ignoring the other beings in the room as he stood.
Seth frowned, studying the blood in his goblet, before rolling his head to the side. He sighed, meeting the gaze of a large lizard beast as it licked its chops. He gave the creature a small nod. Instantly, it stepped forward, grabbing the female’s foot to promptly drag her away. She screamed, thrashing against his hold.
“Find me something less watered down,” Seth muttered, setting the cup aside. “This will provide me nothing.” Finally, his gaze turned to Anton. “Son,” he grunted. “What is it you need?”
“I was told you wished my presence.” The dark male grinned. “So here I am.” He stepped absently to the side as another woman was dragged into the room, a witch from the looks of her. Moans emanated as she was lugged up the stairs, bumping on every step along the way.
Seth stared at his son, though his attention seemed elsewhere. “Did I? Hrrm. I suppose I did.” He laughed softly. But his smile evaporated the second his gaze shifted to his servants. “You fools,” he snarled, rising to back-hand the closest. “I've already fed from her. Can't you tell?” Yet still, he palmed the witch’s face. “Have you fed yet, son?” he murmured, lifting a hand to stroke her arm.
Anton nodded with a smirk. “Yes, father. From a very tasty fae.” He gestured toward the hell hounds snarling at each other in the corner. “They are looking a little scrawny as of late,” he suggested shrewdly.
Seth smirked, then promptly tossed the female to his pets. Her screams were short-lived as the hounds descended, the sound of crunching bones echoing off the walls. Anton turned his gaze back to his father, watching him silently, wondering if he’d forgotten yet again that he’d sent for him. Disdain over his father’s apparent old age flickered over his features. But he was wise enough to know not to offer any opinionated commentary.
Eventually, Seth turns his attention back to his son. “I want an update on my subjects. In particular, that half-breed you brought into my servitude.”
Anton nodded. “Zayta. Yes. She is a good servant, sings only your praises.”
Seth walked past Anton, descending his throne to approach a nervous gathering of succubus huddled to his left. Swiftly, he cupped one’s face and drew her from the fold. She shuddered, even as her hands rose to slide along his chest.
“Mmm… you're so ripe,” he murmured, pressing her into his chest. His lips parted as he leaned down, sinking sharp fangs into the side of her nearly-bare breast.
She cried out, arching into his bite, her hands burrowing into his hair. “Yes Master,” she whimpered, shuddering as his poison pumped into her veins. “Yes.”
Anton sighed, clasping his hands behind his back. Rocking on his heels, he waited as his father to finish with the succubus.
Abruptly, Seth released the female, the sudden disengage sending her spilling to the floor. A hell hound darted in to attack her. Seth snarled viscously, kicking the beast so hard, it went flying into the huge burning fireplace to the right. The hound howled in pain, then exploded into ash.
“I am the master here,” Seth snarled. “My word is law. Do not assume to do anything without my command.”
Wiping the blood from his mouth, he turned back to his son. “I ordered your pet, Zayta, to fetch me an angel. She has failed to do so.” His eyes flickered with menace. “I am on the verge of having her mounted on a rack and tortured.”
Anton frowned. “I know nothing of an angel. What is it you want with it?” An evil grin emerged. “Are you going to turn it?” he asked darkly. “Or just play with it until you grow bored?”
Seth’s lips curved into a cruel sneer. “His name is Jazz. He's one of the mission angels who’s been killing my followers.” A growl rumbled in his throat. “Put a fire beneath Zayta, son. She does not want to disappoint me.” He bared his fangs in irritation. “She has no idea what awaits her if she does.”