Phoenix Contract: Part Two (Fallen Angel Watchers) Read Free

fantastic distortion. His mouth opened, and his jaws became unhinged, stretching and twisting into a gaping maw. The scream of a thousand suffering souls issued from his throat, and an inky blankness filled his eyes and mouth.
    “What are you?” Magnus demanded, though he had a good idea already.
    “I am torment and destruction, the scream in the dark, the taste of ash, bitter tears, the belly of the beast, the essence of evil.” The albino’s face bloated, and his eyes turned as glassy as those of a decaying corpse. The darkness followed from the edges of the room to the center, pooling about his body until the distinction faded.
    “The inflated ego,” Magnus said. His sword at the albino’s throat never wavered. He understood the creature’s true nature—demonic. It had assumed Thrash’s identity. He had one last question, though he doubted the albino would answer. “What is your name?”
    His failure to invoke fear or disgust caused the demon’s features to contort with displeasure. The swollen sack of flesh wobbled and then deflated, resuming normal human proportions. “Guess,” he taunted.
    “I’m guessing you have no name other than the ones you steal,” Magnus replied. For a demon, it was an insult. Names were everything. Only the lowliest and weakest demons lacked a true name.
    “Soul Eater,” the creature snapped. “ The Soul Eater.”
    “ The Soul Eater,” Magnus repeated and laughed. “It is like a waste receptacle calling itself The Trash Can.”
    The albino’s mouth opened, and then his face flushed with shock and anger. Still laughing, Magnus delivered a short, powerful thrust with the falchion and severed the demon’s head.
    No spray of blood followed, no bodily fluids of any kind. The head rolled into the oozing black mass and rapidly disintegrated. The headless body dropped to the ground and also melted into the black tide. Magnus watched the oily mass bubble and percolate, curious to see what would happen next. It emitted a series of lusty burps and moans and then disgorged a lumpy protrusion which coalesced into an inky black human head. The facial features were rough like an unfinished sketch, and the eyes staring up at Magnus were full of the abyss.
    “That was rude,” the demon said.
    “What can I say,” Magnus replied. “I’m a bad man.”
    “You’ve made me angry now.”
    Magnus sneered. “I’m shaking.”
    A protrusion shot from the tarry mass and wrapped firmly about the Celt’s ankle. Wielding the falchion, Magnus deftly severed the tendril and then the next and the next. The pieces he cut off simply fell back into the creature’s formless body and were reabsorbed. At last, a tentacle got past his guard and yanked Magnus off his feet.
    Destructive and consuming, the albino levied his rage. He slammed Magnus into the ceiling and then the wall so hard the Celt lost his grip on the falchion. The viscous mass lifted Magnus and tossed him about like a puppy with a toy. “Your feeble attacks mean nothing to me. I am invulnerable to physical harm. Nothing can hurt me. Not fists or swords or guns or fire! Do you hear?”
    “I hear,” Magnus agreed. The rough treatment had left him slightly bruised but largely undamaged. Mostly, the demon had succeeded in pissing him off further.
    The Soul Eater shoved Magnus against one of the shuttered windows. The tentacles pinned him in place along the same wall where his cloak hung on a hook. The Celt turned his head toward the cloak and extended his hand, reaching for the garment.
    “ Venio veni ventum, ” Magnus intoned.
    The cloak immediately came to life, writhing and flapping as it crossed the short distance to its master. It flowed along Magnus’ arm and enveloped him within its folds. The material felt silky against his skin.
    “It’s like a tiny cousin to me,” the demon said. Abruptly, Thrash stood opposite Magnus once again, holding the Celt pinned against the metal shutters with an arm across his throat. “Does