The sounds of glass breaking were the quieter of the things that crept out of the small building. Screams, yells, whimpers, and begging, they all drowned out every other sound that possibly could have escaped the doors. Yellow eyes with a ring of purple at the edge stared into a trembling man's brown, ringed with red from stress and fear, his piss soaked pants leaving a streak against the floor. The yellow eyed individual’s arms were crossed over his chest as black tendrils lifted from his skin and receded, like wisps of black smoke. Behind him two dead waitresses and an armless man lie on the ground. On the other side of the room an arm dangled from a ceiling fan, dripping a circle of blood as it went round and round.
"I'm looking for a key, gold spiral handle, engraved with a dragon. Very similar to the design on your door. You wouldn't happen to have seen it would you?"
The man continued scooting back until he hit a wall, shaking his head no the entire time.
"You sure... They said they hadn't seen it either...."
He was trembling in fear terribly now, tears forming at the corner of his eyes. His hand grazed something cold and flat, a knife.
"No, that’s too bad..."
The man chucked the knife at his assailants face, aiming for an eye or something, something enough for him to make his move. He didn't wait to see where it had hit though, and just turned and ran. Moments later, two black tendrils shot through his body, one through his shoulder, and one through his stomach. He yelled out loud, blood pouring from his mouth as he was slowly drawn back towards the dark-skinned boy. When he was close enough the tendrils simply vanished, and the man fell to the ground, face up. His attacker walked over, nearly straddling him, a large gash on his face and a smile across his lips. He reached his hands out, letting black tendrils materialize again and shoot straight through the man’s arms and legs, pinning him to the ground. The gash almost instantly began sealing up, as the man started to seemingly age at a rapid pace. He was dying, having the very life sucked from him, but before he died, he would see the boy’s face fully healed, and he would hear three gentle words.
"Not good enough..."
He wouldn’t kill him yet though, he would make him tell everything he knew, spill every last bit of information, give every little detail, and then, when he was finished, he would let the man die.
The man’s skin was old dry and wrinkled, his bones brittle, and his voice almost gone, but he told of how the store’s founder had found a key just like the one on the door, and had been buried with it. The store had been taken over by this man’s grandfather though, and so he knew nothing of the whereabouts of the key or the grave. He pleaded every moment for his life, but Ian’s eyes were cold, and he was heartless, and when the man had no more left to give, Ian drained him till the last breath.
A harsh dark rain pounded against the rough cobblestone. Standing in the middle of it, Ian thought about what he had found out as rain droplets fell off him, crimson streams running at his feet. Beyond him there were more bodies strewn around, each turned into miniature mummies, sucked dry of all their life essence.
Inside him was a bottomless pit, an insatiable appetite for the very life around him that drove him to consume, and to repeat. He had his own goals and ambition, but the feeling was slowly taking over. The demon within would not let him be, and it was the cost of the awesome power that he had gained. Maybe there was a better method of sealing it that would separate its desires from his, but in every way that he had found, that separation also came with a separation of power, and that he could not have. This power was the best thing that had happened to him, and he finally had the power to do as he pleased. Plus, the more he used it, the more he got used to the hunger, the more he got used to the cravings, and the more he enjoyed it when he finally did feed.
“So... that thing you were looking for... It wasn't here either was it...”
The voice in his head, the voice that he had first thought was simply insanity, it had finally started to make sense, to become cohesive, to say more than just weak feelings like hunger. It had finally begun speaking to him, telling him things. Maybe this power he had was beginning to get used to him as well, maybe as he became more used to being half demon it got more used to being half human. Who knew. All he did know was that it became much easier to control, even at the cost of losing control of himself.
"No, not here, but I’m closer to finding it. It may just be in this very city.”
Indeed, the old man’s grave, and within it the key, they might have been in that very city. He had been tasked with finding them, and though he didn’t know exactly why, he dared not question it, he simply did as told. Even with all his new-found power he was still a slave to one man’s will, he was still, and until he could master his own abilities he would forever be, in the shadow of a dragon.