Water’s Edge (A Series of Sharp Edges #1)

2. Ripp

CHAPTER TWO

ripp

A ripple of energy rolls through me, turning my attention to whatever the source is behind me. I lift my head to allow the scent on the wind to invade the nostril holes in my skull. The bitter smell of human death mixes with the mustiness of lake water, but there’s an interesting sweetness to it too. My curiosity heightens at the prospect of an easy soul to harvest.

I change directions to drift to the nearest water source. The bramble opens before me, allowing a path through its thorny vines. The intensity of the scent grows, and a lake appears through the trees. The light from the setting sun reflects off the surface of the water then dances across the tree trunks. I creep as close as I can while still hiding in the shadows.

Movement in the middle of the lake draws my gaze. A beautiful creature glides through the water, her dark hair fanning out across the surface. It’s the same deep, earthy brown as wet soil after fresh rain. Behind her is the source of the wave of energy and the smell—an offering. The storm of shadow and mist around me builds into a hurricane of hunger.

I watch her crawl into the boat. She tediously attaches a rope and then a large block to her gift for me. The body drifts away from the small boat she found safety in before sinking uselessly into the depths below. Another breeze carries a final wave of vitality across the water, making its way to me. I inhale deeply, sinking my claws into the soft soil, and I have to will my magic to remain calm.

The tiny creature sinks to her knees, pawing at herself. She doesn’t know what she called to her. She’s only lost in her delicate human emotions. My interest peaks when she stands to jump back into the lake. Is she offering herself to me as well? Anticipation vibrates in my bones, and I hear a garbled scream. A rush of tiny bubbles speckle the water just before she comes up for air.

I need to leave before the incessant yearning inside me demands to be satiated. I turn to go just as I see her climb back into the boat and row to shore. The thought of her burns inside me. The call of her soul is impossible to ignore, a song that can’t be unheard. Its melody reverberates in my chest as I try to distance myself, but just as it fades, her scent carries to me again—an irresistible aroma that doesn’t fail to send me spiraling back into madness.

I move through the tight cluster of trees, stalking my prey, sticking to the edges of her vision. Her movements tense as she tries to control her urge to run. Fear floods from her. Strings of dark, liquid magic hang from my bony jaw like drool as I salivate at the thought of her running. I picture the way the muscles in her legs would contract and expand as she pumps them faster in a desperate attempt to flee. I run my tongue over my teeth, thinking of that delicious moment I finally descend on her.

“Hey!” I call out, and I wonder what voice she’s hearing. Is it a friend, maybe? A lover? The notion sends rage crashing through me. No, based on her thundering heartbeat and the look on her face, it’s a voice she shouldn’t be hearing.

“Hey!” I call again, starting to close the gap between us. She still doesn’t run. Each step she takes is stiff, forced. Once I’m parallel to her, still covered by the trees, I whisper once more to her. “Hey!”

I know she can feel how close I am. The hair on her neck sticks up and her breathing is uneven. We’re almost to a small cabin, just a few more steps left. Her relief cascades down her body when she finally reaches the porch. She has gotten away, for now.

Pangs of hunger stab at me as she bounds inside the cabin, disappearing behind the door. I whimper at the loss of her and turn to fade back into the woods. I need to find my next soul to siphon to fill the void she left. Maybe a fresh kill will taper this overwhelming burn of desire.

The insects buzzing in the surrounding woods are the only sounds in this still clearing. My body hums with electricity from the energy siphoned from my fresh kill. This shit never gets old. Every soul for the last thousand years has felt like the first. I thrive off the madness in the eyes of each human before they succumb to their final nightmare. It’s the only thrill keeping me in this world.

I lick the blood off each sharp, bony claw, savoring the coppery tang. I groan, reminiscing the moment the spark of light went out of his eyes and a cold, empty stare took its place. The bitterness of his soul as I sucked it in is still thick on my tongue.

I walk to where I’ve unceremoniously laid out my offering to whatever can feast upon the remains. The empty shell is a reminder of the weakness of humanity. Humans are all so fragile, insects waiting to be crushed.

The human husk is motionless in a pool of his own life force. The metallic aroma fills the surrounding air as I bend down next to his corpse. The smell of cheap beer still clings to him. Rigor mortis hasn’t set in yet, and if it wasn’t for all the blood, he’d look like he’s just drunk and asleep.

I led my meal away from the small roadhouse across the street by making myself appear as tiny lights out in the tree line of the woods. Fleshy tendons pull my jaw into a skeletal grin, remembering how fucking easy it was. Humans are so easily lured in by their curiosity. They’re so eager to follow blindly in the hope of something more than their meager existence. They’ve changed so little in the thousands of years I’ve walked through this world.

I used to limit myself to those who became lost in the woods, feeding off the energy released as they died of hunger or exposure, hunting only those who acknowledged my presence or gave me their name. There was no reason to wander among them, but the pure evil radiating from the world lately has drawn me out of the darkness of the trees. The depravity of their souls, already halfway driven to madness of their own doing, is a flashing neon sign to come and feast. Humans have become the real monsters.

I stare into the puddle of blood slowly leaking out towards me—my true form staring back at me. Shadow and mist envelop me as my bones twist and crack until a masculine face appears in the liquid. I’ve had to use a human form to come out of the shadows to do my hunting, an unfortunate drawback. I built a body with old magic, taking care to craft something appealing to their concept of beauty. Most humans wouldn’t recognize genuine beauty if I hit them in the head with it. If they knew what I truly was, the thought alone would be enough to pull on the fragile thread of their sanity and unravel it completely.

I’ve been called several names over time, over each rewrite of history. They’ve used so many words trying to describe what they can’t comprehend: old god, demon, forest spirit, Eldritch terror. Some legends even consider me a fae creature. Those are the most humorous. I’m much older than that, existing in a liminal space between life and death. Creation and destruction. Time for me only circles in on itself and then repeats infinitely. Creatures like me have no human need to be defined.

I walk out of the clearing and back through the soothing darkness of the trees until I’m back at the road. The sun’s deep orange and purple rays stream out across the dusk sky, just a few moments left in the day. Cars are filling the small parking lot of the roadhouse like moths to a flame. I inhale deeply to scent out what tonight’s contribution brings. A musky, yet sweet smell causes my nostrils to flare. It’s her .

My muscles constrict, tension vibrating through my bones. The scent, laced with a hint of magic I didn’t detect before, is impossible to ignore. It’s a familiar symphony playing only for me. Frenzy builds low in my abdomen, and my eyes scan furiously for who I know is the source. That’s when I see her—my girl from the water. My little angel of death, who called for me with the life she so graciously offered, has been dropped into my lap again.

She’s a tiny thing, climbing out of her strangely colored car. Her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, exposing her tiny neck—so easy to squeeze. Magic pools in my mouth like saliva, and I run my tongue over my lips. My body is already tightening with need as my eyes work their way down the rest of her.

Her black tank top hugs her small frame. I’m not close enough to tell for sure, but I’d bet there’s no bra holding her perky little tits. Her denim shorts are slung low on her hips, revealing a divine strip of golden skin around her middle. She slips inside the door of the roadhouse and disappears. It’s too late for her, though. My target has already locked in.

Her dark aura pulls me to her, causing my magic to strain and push against the bounds of my human body. I’m heading towards the little building before I realize my legs are moving. I struggle to organize my thoughts beyond this overwhelming new obsession. Who would drop this angel down into a backwoods hellhole like this? A prize—a gift wrapped up just for me.

I don’t normally seek females for victims or lust after them—or pay much attention to them at all. Most don’t have enough depravity, enough darkness, to draw me in. They don’t satiate me in any capacity, but this little bug might be the exception. Her scent is intoxicating, like life and death mixed with chaos. Her life, her soul, the very essence of her being, screams for me until I’m unable to hear the call of anything else. I need her to be mine.

I’m stuck between the planes of my existence, staring at her. My magic quarrels furiously within me. It pulses inside me at an unbearable tempo, sending liquid heat and human emotions through every vein, polluting my bloodstream. The feeling is foreign, and I struggle to regain control under her haze.

I am a machine fueled by rage and death, the darkness at the core of human nature. I burn through any and everything I touch. My only goal is to make each and every man I come across thankful for every breath they take. But this woman, this queen of death… She could unravel me completely because I know I can’t have her. I can’t consume her without snuffing out the light flickering inside her.