Free Blood Possession by Tessa Dawn

energetic fingerprint that was Angus Monahan with the universal database in which the disgusting man had projected his thought, intention, and action.
    Napolean sent his spirit seeking.
    He scanned the planet at enormous speed, dividing the vast expanse into quadrants so he could search one at a time. He had taken all the information he needed from Brooke’s memories—analyzing each vibration of fear, helplessness, and disgust from the week she had spent in terror with her stepfather—and reactivated the imprints using his own strong, otherworldly focus. Now, he was searching for the other participant.
    A high-pitched humming began to ring in his ears as the vibration increased. He threw back his head and sent the full power of his nonphysical senses in the direction of the vibration until he was almost in perfect alignment with the darkness he had tapped into. His stomach roiled as his body fought to reject the intense hatred and confusion that personified the being that was Angus Monahan. And then just like that, a full connection was made.
    Napolean locked onto Monahan’s energy and followed it like a bloodhound, onward…forward…as if he were entering a dark tunnel and spinning at an enormous rate of speed. As his ethereal form emerged from the tunnel, he quickly took inventory of his surroundings in an effort to reorient himself in time and space: Invisible, he had emerged in a small, dingy, one-room apartment on the east side of Detroit, and the place stank like body odor and rotten garbage. Somewhere in the kitchen, there was old meat or produce that had gone bad. Napolean scowled with disgust. And then he saw him. The male who had terrorized the woman he had waited centuries to love.
    Angus Monahan was short but burly, the result of being born with a very large frame. It was obvious that he had become lazy over the years, and his once robust appearance was now portly and slack. He sat on an old, grungy couch with his bare feet up on a torn ottoman. He held a beer in his left hand and a remote control in his right. Snorting to drag some phlegm from his lungs, he spat into a nearby trash can and flipped the channel from professional wrestling to hard-core porn. He sank deeper into the tattered cushions and smiled.
    For the first time, Napolean noticed that the top of the man’s jeans were unbuttoned, and although he was now staring at naked women, his thoughts were of naked girls. Rage swirled through Napolean’s head like particles in a dust cloud. Still invisible, he sent a thin bolt of electricity from the tip of his fingers into the television set, instantly shorting it out…
    And then he waited.
    Angus sat up on the edge of the couch and cursed, his layered belly protruding far below his dirty T-shirt. He glared at the TV screen and slammed the remote on the rickety wooden coffee table. “Damnit,” he spat. “I paid good money for that damn box—it better not be broken!”
    Although Napolean had no intentions of drawing the scene out, he wanted Angus to know what fear felt like...before he left the earth. Drawing on his primal, animal nature, he released a low growl from the bottom of his throat and followed it with a slow, drawn-out hiss like that of a snake…but far more haunting.
    Angus spun around. “Who’s there?” He turned rapidly in every direction, his wide eyes searching the corners of the room anxiously. “What the hell?” He got up and headed toward the kitchen, where he peeked around the corner and glanced low, beneath the table and chairs. When he still saw nothing, he checked behind the soiled garbage can, opened several cabinets, and then headed for the bathroom. Before returning to the living room, he flipped the dead bolt on the front door and latched the chain lock, peeking through the eye hole for good measure. His heart was still beating rapidly when he returned to the television and slowly ran his finger over the burnt power cord. “How the hell…” He grimaced and gave it