Reaper's Word

Isaiah looked at the group filing in. A large group, twenty plus. He and the hell hounds were starving so this was a good thing, If they had been healthy humans. He'd have to drink the tainted disgusting blood and push the drugs out of his body.

"You bring me the worst kind to feed from?" Isaiah said. "Perhaps I simply won't feed." He challenged and the look in his eyes was fairly serious. The man who looked no older than Isaiah glared at him.

"You will or we will continue to bring you this low level scum. The last group were all healthy, and had intelligence. It is hard to get such groups without being noticed." Which was the truth.

"Let me out. You won't have to worry about it." He would have no worries. Isaiah would kill him in a heartbeat.

"This is what you get. We don't care so long as you are fed."

"If I want to feed." He said in a dangerous tone.

"You'll feed because you'd go crazy if you don't and you know it. You can't stop yourself forever. You'll turn feral and kill the first one you can get your hands on for blood. I know your game."

"I can hold out long enough. Long enough for a few of you to die from the starvation of it." The man looked at Isaiah. Isaiah might let himself get so weak that magic would start to break for those in the family connected to him. They both knew if he got angry enough he'd do it. The number attached to him was also a reason he had to have so many to feed from.

"But I won't." With that he turned and Isaiah slapped the unseen barrier in anger with a snarl. Then he looked at the group. He let out a loud and odd sound. Instantly Zeta, Beta, and Alpha came down the stairs.

"Just take what you need no more. We must let this group dry out." There was a low growl of disapproval from the three of them.

"Agreed." Isaiah hissed.

Isaiah waited watching the group. Disgusting, but he was starving and needed it. Why couldn't one of them have survived from before? Then he could last the days it would take for this group to use their drugs and dry out.

This was going to be a very dull month. Plus none seemed all that bright, perhaps it would get better once they were over their needs. The barrier came down as the safe time passed, and he moved forward. Walked in the room and picked the one least on a high. Right in front of them all bit into the man's neck and pulled the energy and blood from him. There were stunned looks and not a lot of movement at first as they watched what looked like a vampire feed from their friend.

through his system. It wasn't until the

and he stood there for a good five minutes. The hell hounds ate their fill of the humans leaving very little bone or flesh, but a good bloody mess. He on the other hand was waiting for the moment the drugs would push back up. What his body

the kitchen and was violently sick in the sink. Toxins did not mix with him. If left in his body it would deteriorate him to nothing but a feral beast and

rinsed his mouth from the taste there and spit it out. He turned and could hear the group running around looking for a way out. Isaiah moved to the room he'd just been in and grabbed anything that was a

kitchen, opened the door and tossed them outside. He slammed the door and the glass shattered out of it but was already fixing itself a second later. The hell hounds had moved off going to watch the humans scurry about. There was something oddly funny about watching humans like this group. They were very

to leave the kitchen from a different door, he nearly tripped as he came to such a sudden stop. It looked like he'd been tripped by an invisible wire for a second. Isaiah took a few steps back and took a deep breath moving around the kitchen. It wasn't possible they hadn't felt or smelled anyone in the house. But for one second he smelled it, and it was like being hit

to and he apparently had greatly underestimated her. How had she managed to go unnoticed this entire time?

smell, wishful thinking? He took another breath, no it was there. Clearly she didn't give it off all

slender throat and punish her for it. He didn't care if it was survival for her. He was sure she was there, and he'd had to feed from trash. How had they missed her? How was he going to track her with no scent? No signature he could find! Where the hell was

to drive him insane. He knew

human. He slowed thinking, maybe this wasn't such a bad thing after all. He wanted a challenge, didn't he? It was what he enjoyed to pass the time. Clair had given him

like she was a ghost living in his home. Perhaps that was exactly

discouraged as he entered the greenhouse. Then just barely, but it was there her scent, and he moved forward. He moved toward the door in the back. He hadn't been to this part of the house in years. There was nothing down there

room and dark room. He opened the door and moved down the stairs there and turned the corner.

It was addictive, so strong it hit him like a fist to the gut. He

remembered. He looked around the room to find what she'd been

giddy like the drugs did to those

released when she felt a positive emotion. She had to be just as starving as he was, as the hell hounds had eaten all the food. In the kitchen she would have been excited and happy to get food. He was confused about

press down on his chest. Interesting the house was acting of its own accord on her behalf. He had ignored this room, and she had come in and set up shop clearly giving it her attention and care. It wanted to keep her around, this was odd. Humans

the different drawers and doors. He came to one closet that had her scent on it stronger than the others and he opened

to the table. He pulled out the papers in it. He was amazed by the detail and skill