Reaper's Word

He stood at the top of the stairwell. His nails clicking on the wooden banister. They were coming with another group. How annoying. He always hoped that they would forget so that he could just waste away. Yet they never did. If they did then they would die. So it was a stupid fruitless hope. Still didn't stop him from wishing.

Isaiah was locked in this damn building. Trapped here by old magic that he had no ability to change. They'd been very smart and very stupid at the same time. He was waiting for them to slip up just once. To bring him what he needed. Damn them and how carefully they selected those that they brought here.

Every day he pictured the way that he would kill those that had trapped him here. Those that used him to stay alive, gaining immortality through him. For them to continue to live, he would have to remain healthy and mildly content. The content part they could care less about. However he could at times make life very difficult for those chained to him. So they gave him what he wanted except his freedom.

They would do whatever was necessary to keep him trapped in this mansion. Because the moment he got out, he would kill them. Isaiah would tear, shred and dance in their blood. It was the only thing that got him through all of these long years. One hundred seventy four years, six months, eight days, twelve hours and forty three minutes. Not that he was counting.

Make that forty four minutes.

He raised his gaze to the ceiling above him. Someone was moving around up there. The survivor of the last group brought nearly a month ago. That one was a quick one and had won several of the games that he played with him. He had to stay entertained somehow. Playing with his food was one way of doing it.

Every so often he would get one that was smart and quick. He'd use them as entertainment more than once. The longest any human ever brought to him here had lasted was a month and four days. Only because he'd played it smart and stayed away from him. Never coming out of his hiding places unless he needed food or what not.

so long. Next to him a large German Sheppard sat, but it was no dog. This was just how it looked during the day if it wished. Daylight was not great for his companion. She sat looking out the huge windows that faced the grand staircase. It was made of dark wood and looked brand new. Sweeping out at the bottom to go right or left, with a black and

a handful of minutes in her true form. She was what humans might call a hell hound. Nearly indestructible like her master, there were two

died, but seeing as there was not much in this world that could kill him, they weren't ever going to die. Well hopefully, unless he did something stupid again. The name he was called when he'd been stuck here was Isaiah. He didn't see a point in calling himself any other name at the

for some of it he'd not been truly living in the human world. Not until he'd been summoned by a weak old fool who'd thought himself powerful. Wanted to use Isaiah as a weapon. The old man had pulled him

didn't need to feed from souls. He wasn't a vampire or undead. Though he did survive on blood. He was still trying to figure out how to just get the energy from it without needing to drink from those humans he needed to survive. It wasn't the blood, but the energy of life in it. He hadn't figured it out yet. At this

found worked was to drain them. He guessed he could leave them alive not draining them fully of life. Though any he left alive could potentially become

one that might escape. There was one exception, one thing that could free him. It was also the same reason that he

that day. He was bound by any promise he made until it was fulfilled. If he broke it, it would kill him. Nothing in this world but his own promise could kill him as far as he knew.

new arrivals." The Sheppard next to him made a slight head nod. They couldn't talk, via mouth. However they were highly intelligent and they had their own way of communicating information to him. He was so attuned to them that it was second nature. He guessed it was a way of speaking, after all he got it and heard

was the oldest of the three. Alpha, Beta and Zeta. Easy to remember for him, Zeta was the only female of the three, and vicious. More so than

and technicalities." His eyes were a solid black at the moment. He was also well fed and didn't hunger. He'd caught and taken care of a woman last night. She'd just given up on living

spoken. She had a quirky personality to say the least. Doing odd things. Sometimes playing with a human almost like she liked them,