Leaving Daniel who was mourning beside his father's body, Bowen felt a heavy weight settle over his heart. The boy's tear-streaked face and the palpable anguish in his eyes haunted Bowen's steps as he departed.
Bowen knew he was risking the controller infecting another person by spending time to talk to Daniel, but there was something about that boy he could not ignore. Maybe it was his vulnerability or his helplessness. It was as if Bowen had had a similar experience, even though he had no recollection of what had happened in the past as a human.
Bowen's mind drifted to the fleeting glimpses of his past life that sometimes surfaced—fragments of memories that felt like trying to catch smoke with his bare hands. He had been human once, but those days were shrouded in mystery, lost in the abyss of his transformation. All that remained were emotions, echoes of feelings long buried. Perhaps it was this lingering empathy that drew him to Daniel, a boy suddenly thrust into a world of pain and orphanhood by the makings of the controller.
Based on Daniel's story, his father had pursued the controller to the alley. Bowen approached the narrow, darkened passageway with caution. The place was silent like a cemetery, There was something eerie about here, a stillness that felt unnatural. Someone was here. Perhaps the controller.
Bowen's senses were heightened, every fiber of his being on alert. He scanned the area for heartbeats but found none. It wasn't rare for a controller to have none. People who sold themselves to demons usually had no heartbeats. It was one of the many sacrifices they made, their humanity stripped away piece by piece in exchange for power and immortality.
"Show yourself," Bowen commanded, his voice steady and authoritative. There was no response.
Bowen's eyes flicked to the shadows, seeking any movement. He strained to hear beyond the silence, beyond the muffled sounds of the city that felt worlds away from this secluded place. The absence of a heartbeat didn't mean the absence of danger. Controllers were cunning often using the quiet to mask their presence.
Bowen stood in the heart of the deserted alley, his voice steady and commanding. "If you come to me, I will let you live. But if I find you myself, I will kill you."
The words echoed off the brick walls, and for a moment, there was only silence. Then, Bowen felt a sudden pressure against his back. He whirled around, ready to strike, but no one was there.
"I know you watched as that man was killed," Bowen said, his voice cutting through the darkness.
A laugh echoed through the alley, chilling and feminine with a demonic undertone. "He is not a man but a worthless vampire."
Bowen's eyes narrowed, scanning the shadows. "You must have felt proud of yourself, but why did you stay back?"
The voice replied with a mocking lilt, "I was waiting for you. Why wouldn't I be proud of myself? I made a so-called lord leave his position to visit a mere commoner like myself."
Bowen was curious about the controller's motives. "What do you have against the vampires to go to such extents?"
"You pests invaded our lands and took shelter in a land that doesn't belong to you," the voice spat back, seething with contempt.
Bowen laughed, a low, rumbling sound that carried a hint of menace. "Let me guess, you're a forty-something-year-old woman who thinks she's wise and wants to take revenge for her ancestors? Let me clear something up: I didn't invade your lands. Your king at that time begged me and my troops to help him fight off the monsters that were stealing and eating people. And when I decided to leave with my troops after completing the duty, your king gave me total control of the lands."
"You liar," the voice hissed, full of venom. "You are twisting history."
Bowen's laughter was like the sound of dry leaves rustling in a forgotten forest. "Do you know how long I have lived? I am history myself."
"You disgust me," the voice said, dripping with loathing.
Bowen's eyes flickered, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice. "Disgust is mutual," he replied. "But your hate seems personal. Who are you?"
The voice laughed again, a sound that grated against Bowen's nerves. "Names are of no importance. What matters is that your reign ends tonight."
Bowen took a step forward, his senses sharp, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring. "You think you can end me? You overestimate yourself."
"You vampires are all the same. Arrogant and blind to the suffering you cause." the voice spoke.
Bowen stood firm, a small almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Let's cut this conversation short," he said, his voice laced with cold amusement. "I have someone I'm particularly interested in meeting. Your emotions and all those strange feelings… they are boring me. So, if you can help me by surrendering yourself and going to the dungeon, who knows? I might spare your life."
"Arrogant bastard!" the voice hissed, and the woman lunged at him with a feral intensity.
Bowen moved with lightning speed, catching the woman by the neck. As he did, he felt a strange swelling there and quickly pushed her to the ground. To his horror and fascination, a creature began to push its head out of the woman's neck.
"A satooris," Bowen chuckled, recognizing the demonic parasite. He had encountered them before, foul beings that could enhance their hosts while feeding off their life force.