I had no idea if it actually worked that way, but I was betting he didn't, either.
He stirred, sending a tendril of smoke swirling outward from his main form. The energy flowing from my body increased sharply, and pain stabbed through me. Obviously, I needed more recovery time between souls.
The bastard deserved what he got, he spat. He killed my family. Tortured them.
"He went to prison for his crimes - "
Hah, Surrey retorted. Twenty-five years for my wife and her daughter. Does that seem fair to you?
"That's not - "
Yeah, yeah, you bastards all stick together. Well, I don't regret my actions. He deserved it. I can move on in peace now, knowing he can't do that to anyone else.
"But you didn't actually do anything, did you, Mr. Surrey?" It was a guess on my part, but a pretty certain one. Surrey might be a vampire, but he didn't seem to have the balls for torture. Sure, he'd had no compunction about shooting at me, but I think that was more fear and panic than courage.
His sullenness swirled around me. The pain of him sucking at my strength was growing, as was the dull ache behind my left eye.
No, he said eventually. I hired someone.
"Tell me who."
I never knew his name and he never got out of that stupid costume he was wearing.
"The demon costume?"
His smoky form moved, which I took as assent. Maybe he'd forgotten he no longer had flesh.
"How did you get in contact with him, then?"
There was an ad in the paper.
I blinked. Contract killers were now taking out ads? "What sort of ad?"
A problem-solved ad. I contacted them, told them about Johnson, and they said they could help me.
By sending around a hit man? Interesting. "Was it their idea or yours to accompany the killer?"
Mine. I wanted to see the bastard die, wanted to feel it. Wanted him to know just how it felt to spend the last minutes of your life in such pain and fear.
Which was why the scent of vengeance had been so thick and bitter.
"Which paper did you see the ad in?" Dizziness swirled through me as I spoke, and I dropped a hand to the concrete to steady myself. But the weakness was growing. I'd need to end this soon.
The local paper, Surrey said. It runs every week.
"And there's nothing else you can tell me about the man you hired? How did you pay him?"
Cash up front. His smoky form began to swirl and his anger sharpened. I can feel you growing weaker, guardian. Perhaps you should join me in -
I didn't wait for him to finish, just chopped down on the link between us, cutting him off. The abruptness of it sat me back on my butt, but it had an even more resounding effect on him.
He screamed.
It was a high-pitched sound of agony and frustration combined, and the tendrils that had formed his body shattered, flying like broken glass in a hundred different directions.
Then he was gone.
I swallowed heavily and hoped like hell I hadn't destroyed his soul as easily as I'd shot him.