《Our Demonic Hearts - The Craven Pact Book 1》


 Chapter 1 - Saudade

    On a grassy hill overlooking a lush park, two girls sit, enamored by one another. They smile at each other, one blonde and the other pink, happy and content with their lives. The blonde''s love everlasting, but the pink''s life fleeting.


    A gush of water from a passing car, splashing Ana Kravens. She let out a noise of disgust and backed away from the road, heels clacking on the concrete. She looked down at her emerald dress that was now soaking wet with muddy water. I just bought this dress, she thought. Why does this always happen to me?


    She stood on the sidewalk of an empty, quiet street in the small city of Lexingside, an hour away from her hometown of Morganwood. A nightclub raged on behind her, it''s blinking neon lights bathing her in red and green, as she waited for a taxi to come, but it didn''t seem like any would pass the lamp-lit corner. She would have called for a ride if her phone hadn''t died an hour ago. The only thing that seemed to be an option was to go back into the club and ask for one of her friend''s phones. Cora was still inside, and Ana knew she would be more than willing to lend her phone to her.


    A shiny, big truck slowed and stopped in front of her. The passenger window rolled down to reveal a pale man with a mischievous smile. He had pale skin, blue-gray eyes, and brown hair combed forward, a way to hide his male pattern baldness. Ana found it amusing.


    "Deacon," Ana smiled and approached the truck. "How did you know I would be here?"


    Deacon was barely a friend to Ana, only somebody she spent a night with when she was feeling bored. He knew of her feelings, but still would drop anything he was doing to give her a ride or help out. Ana knew of his affection towards her, but his eagerness to please was too convenient to question.


    Deacon motioned toward the nightclub with a tattooed hand. "You told me you would be here on Friday nights."


    She sighed and rested her arms on the edge of the passenger window. "I did, didn''t I? So you came here to see if I needed a ride?"


    He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel and shrugged, a small smile still lighting up his face. "Suppose I did. I was also hoping you would, maybe, get dinner with me?"


    She smiled. "Dinner? That''s it?"


    He smiled back and glanced down at her ruined dress. "Oh, I don''t know. I suppose I could get you out of that dress, too."


    Ana looked up and down the street. A few cars passed by, and a group of chattering and drunk girls made their way across the street. No taxi in sight. I''ve only had a few drinks, she mused. It can''t be that bad. I think I can live with Deacon''s terrible flirting for just a night.


    She looked back at him and shrugged nonchalantly. "I suppose I''m convinced."


    He grinned and leaned over in his seat to open the door. "Come right in, my lady."


    ¡ª_¡ª


    Ana groaned and turned around in the bed, stopping halfway when she felt a warm body pressed against her. She opened her eyes and looked at a sleeping Deacon, her gaze slowly roaming the room as she tried to remember last night''s events.


    Oh, shit. That''s right. She had spent the night with Deacon, without the agreed-upon dinner. She sighed and rose into a sitting position.


    This was a habit between them for the past year or so. A night spent together, with no strings attached. It wasn''t terrible sex, she always enjoyed it in the moment, but in the mornings she always seemed to dislike Deacon''s presence. It was like the glamour had worn off and he was just some regular guy. Despite that, she always came back.


    Deacon''s house was not a house, but a very large trailer. His parents were absurdly rich and so he had enough money to screw around for the rest of his life. Ana had an inheritance, too, but none so luxurious as his, definitely not enough to buy a fancy fifth-wheel. Silver appliances, boring gray floorboards, and a lush queen bed. A trailer fit for a wastrel.


    With bleary eyes, she grabbed her phone off the nightstand and yanked the charger out. After turning it on, she looking through the fifty texts and twelve voicemails left by her friend, Logan. Ana had left her at the nightclub, promising her that she would go straight home with a ride from a female taxi driver. Obviously, she did not keep her promise. She sent her rightfully concerned friend a text saying she was fine, and just spent the night with Deacon. She immediately received a slew of angry emojis in reply.


    Ana put her clothes back on and went to grab her purse by the nightstand before her hand stilled. Sitting next to her purse was a pack of cigarettes and a lighter that definitely were not hers. She scowled and grabbed her purse in one hand and her heels in the other. Fucking Deacon.


    She left the trailer, feeling fortunate that Deacon was a heavy sleeper. If he had awoken, he would''ve most likely pestered Ana to stay and have breakfast with him. He was touchy in the mornings, as if they were than friends with benefits. It pissed Ana off, and he knew that.


    His trailer was in a quiet trailer park just out of town. It was well-kept, mostly filled with retirees or vacationers. She never understood why he didn''t just buy a house somewhere with all his money. All his parents'' money, she corrected herself.


    She ordered a ride home and got into the backseat when it came. Her home was on the opposite side of town, but it was better than Deacon''s cramped trailer.


    Morganwood was a small town in northern Mississippi, close to the Holly Springs National Forest. It was quiet, full of old-fashioned religious folks who wanted nothing to do with the rest of the world. Ana had grown up here with her father¡ªno, her human dad. Her real father, Marchosias, the purple-eyed creature who believed himself to be superior, had nothing to do with her childhood.


    Shabby, brick buildings passed the car, and Ana watched as people walked through the streets, getting their morning chores done. She often felt no connection to the people she grew up around. They knew her as a loner, a woman with an angry heart and a festering soul. Some still talked to her, asking her for help with menial tasks such as helping with their garden or fixing their car. She believed it was out of pity for losing her dad so young, but she entertained them for the sake of being nice.


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    Soon, the buildings were replaced with hickory and pine trees trailing closely to the road. The occasional house passed by, but besides that it was mostly wilderness. The car soon slowed down, and turned into a gravel driveway. It stopped in front of a Victorian-style house with faded blue paint, the railings on the stairs missing entirely. Off to the side, near the back, was an old barn with equally faded paint. Everything was rundown and looked like shit, but it was home. My home.


    She tipped the driver and exited the car, adjusting the skirt of her stained dress before walking up the creaky steps. A fat white cat with black ears and a tail bounded up the steps and beat her to the door. It turned its head and yowled at her, it''s sharp yellow eyes impatient and demanding. Jazzy, the barn cat Ana''s father had taken a liking to just before he passed. The grumpy feline never liked Ana, and only acknowledged her presence when she wanted food. She was a nuisance more than anything, but she didn''t have the heart to re-home her.


    She unlocked the door and pulled it open, Jazzy pushing past her legs and into the hallway. She went in and shut the door behind her, dropping her purse and keys on the small table next to the door. She heard another feline yowl from the kitchen, and sighed.


    "Yeah, I''m coming. Be patient."


    The house interior could be described with one word; maximalist. Most of the furniture and decorations was from what her dad had gathered over the many years he had lived in this house. He had a passion for thrift stores and flea markets, and so he collected many things he thought looked interesting. Antique wooden furniture littered the Victorian house, covered in random sculptures and old art projects. Fake vines hung from the ceiling in the living room, warm LED lights tangled in them to give the room a homey feel. Rugs covered the hardwood floors, a decision made after toddler Ana tripped and skinned her knee in the hallway.


    She walked to the kitchen and fed the angry animal before deciding to take a shower. The hot water felt nice and relaxing on her skin, and just for a moment she felt all her worries melt away and seep into the drain. But when she turned the water off and stepped out into the cold bathroom, that familiar ache crawled back into her.


    She wiped off the condensation on the mirror and looked at her appearance. Wet dirty blonde hair, purple eyes, and a sunken pale face. She felt as miserable as she looked. When was the last time my cheeks were rosy and full? Real color, and not just powder?


    She quickly shook her head and grabbed her brush. It was never any good thinking about the past.


    After her hair was combed through, she left the bathroom and descended the stairs. The kitchen was silent, which was strange to Ana. Usually, Jazzy would by crying to be let out by now, but there was no sight of the feline. She turned the corner into the living and stopped in her tracks.


    Marchosias stood in the living room, staring at her, not blinking and not breathing. He was a demon, an immortal creature of unknown origin. She was his daughter, but he was a mystery to her.


    Demons were strange creatures. She had only met one, but she assumed they were all the same. Mysterious, cunning, deceiving, able to detect even the smallest of lies. They were as still as statues, never breathing or blinking. They only moved when necessary, and it unnerved Ana. It was unnatural. But if they were unnatural, so was she. She was her father''s daughter, after all.


    He was dressed in the most basic of outfits; A black t-shirt and denim jeans. His gray-brown hair parted in the middle and tucked behind his ears. His eyes were a darker shade of purple than hers, and they unsettled her when he stared.


    She had only known him for the past six years; before that she believed that she was the biological daughter of two humans. He had appeared one day, telling her that she was a cambion and had magical powers. Her mother wasn''t happy about the reveal, and Ana wasn''t happy that she kept such a secret away from her.


    Ana continued nonchalantly to the kitchen, trying to act as if he hadn''t spooked her. "You could''ve warned me you were visiting."


    "I''ve been coming once a week for the past six years. That''s not enough of a warning?" He replied, his tone clipped and gruff.


    "Still, you can''t just show up randomly whenever you want. What did you do with my cat?" She opened the cabinets and grabbed a box of cereal, feeling disappointed when the box felt almost empty.


    "I threw it outside." He replied curtly. Ana shot him a displeased look before searching for a bowl.


    When a bowl and spoon were acquired, she turned to grab the milk from the fridge, but did not expect Marchosias to be at the kitchen entrance. He moved around silently, and Ana tried to calm her beating heart as she opened the fridge. Their was only a quarter left of the almond milk, and she sighed. Today of all days for a grocery run.


    "Your mother is concerned."


    Ana rolled her eyes and poured the cereal and milk into the bowl. "When is she ever not worried?"


    "She wants you to find a job. She thinks you''re burning through your inheritance."


    I am, but that''s not a concern for either of them, Ana thought. Especially my father.


    "So what? It''s my money, and since when have you been talking to mom?" She replied before eating a spoonful of cereal.


    "She tells me some things," was his only reply.


    Ana turned around and gave him an incredulous look. "Some things, huh? I''m surprised she even talks to you at all."


    He didn''t react to the comment. He only stared as she ate her cereal. Ana wished he did. A frown, an eyebrow twitch, something that would tell her that there was a soul somewhere in that body.


    She sighed and looked down at her sad bowl of cereal. "Okay, whatever. I''ll look for a job or something. Can you go bother somebody else now?"


    His hand twitched then. The need for him to react suddenly vanished when she remembered demons only move when its needed. If he moved, it could only mean she had provoked him.


    "I am being serious," He said. "Get a job. You sleep all day and party all night. How do you think your mother feels?"


    "Yeah. Whatever," she murmured. She raised the bowl to her lips and drank the last of the cereal. When she lowered the bowl back down, Marchosias had gone. She let out a sigh of relief, releasing all the tension in her muscles she didn''t realize she was holding. She dumped the bowl and spoon into the sink and wiped her mouth. Good grief.


    Looking out into the window and into the backyard, she realized she could not relax yet. My plants. Of course.


    ¡ª_¡ª


    The American bittersweet was dying, and Ana couldn''t tell why. It''s leaves drooped low to the ground, yellow and shriveled. No holes, so it can''t be caterpillars. She picked off the yellow leaves and dropped them to the ground. It''s getting plenty of water, or at least I thought it was. Maybe it''s too much?


    The hair on the back of her neck raised, and she became suddenly aware of somebody watching her. She slowly turned around to the distant forest, but nobody was there. The chirping of birds was her only companion in these woods.


    She turned back to the American bittersweet clinging to the trellis. She had no pesticide, which gave her another reason to go to the store, although she would want more than anything to just stay home and do nothing.


    She sighed in annoyance and ripped off her gardening gloves. Problems after problems this morning. Suppose I can''t have one morning of peace when I ask for it.


    There''s that feeling again. The feeling of being watched. Her back stiffened and her hands stilled. Whoever or whatever it was, it was behind her, somewhere in the woods.


    She quickly whipped around, eyes trained on the forest. A rustle of bushes, but nothing more. The birds had stilled their beaks. Something was in the woods.


    She couldn''t see anything, however. Whatever had been watching her became spooked by her watchful eye. Just in case, though...


    She spread out her palm in front of her, whispering words under her breath. Violet circles appeared above her hand, filled with sigils and rotating in the the air. She couldn''t read them, but knew what they caused. She drew her hand back, feeling the rush of magical power swell in her hand, and threw it towards the forest like it was a baseball. The ball of purple light pierce its way through the forest, and after a few seconds she heard it crash into a tree, the sound of splitting wood hitting her ears. After that, a few panicked chattering of birds and then, silence.


    Nothing. I''m being paranoid. The spell meant to scare whatever or whoever it was out of hiding, but now she just felt like a fool. She turned back to her house and headed toward the porch. I''m a damn fool.

 Chapter 2 - Halcyon

    Ana handed the filled paperwork back to the manager of the grocery store. He took it and smiled at her. ¡°Great. I¡¯ll call you in a week or two to let you know if you got the job or not.¡±


    She nodded and turned away from him. Grocery shopping seemed easy compared to filling out an application for a job as a minimum wage cashier. Comparing prices for laundry detergent was better than explaining why there was a rather large 6-year gap in her resume, anyways.


    She turned the corner into the breakfast aisle and came face to face with Deacon. His eyes widened and his smile brightened, but Ana took one look at his store uniform and brushed past him.


    ¡°Not happy to see me?¡± He followed close behind her, tossing a toilet paper roll from hand to hand.


    ¡°If I knew you worked here I wouldn¡¯t have a applied for a job. I think seeing you once a week is enough for me.¡± She perused the shelf of cereals as he stood beside her. ¡°What do you need a job for, anyway?¡±


    ¡°Got bored, just like you.¡±


    She glanced at him and eyed his wrinkled uniform. ¡°I¡¯m not bored. I needed money, and an excuse to get out of the house. I doubt you¡¯re just bored.¡±


    He let out a short whistle and backed away a few steps. ¡°Somebody woke up grumpy this morning!¡±


    She grabbed a box of Fanny Pans and walked out of the aisle. Much to her annoyance, Deacon followed behind her. ¡°Leave me alone, Deacon, or I¡¯ll tell your boss you¡¯re harassing a customer.¡±


    ¡°Nah, you wouldn¡¯t do that, especially after the nice night we had.¡± He commented as she reached into the freezer and grabbed a carton of milk.


    She gave him a small smile before walking past him. ¡°We¡¯re in public. Act like it.¡±


    He threw his hands up in the air. ¡°Alright, fine. Don¡¯t admit it. I¡¯ll see you¡­next Friday?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Whatever.¡±


    ¡ª_¡ª


    She exited the store and stuffed the groceries into the back seat of her dingy truck. Not hers, no. Her dad¡¯s. The faded blue machine could never be hers, just as the house was still his. She was just using them until she died, too.


    Just as she was about to hop into her truck, a small old lady approached her, a purse hanging from her arm. Mrs. Montgomery was a friend of her dad¡¯s, and one of the few who willingly talked to Ana. Although the senior often annoyed her with church invitations, she always made her feel remembered on holidays.


    ¡°Oh, Analiese! I haven¡¯t seen you in awhile. How have you been?¡± Mrs. Montgomery gave her a warm, wrinkled smile, and Ana felt bad for wanting nothing more than to already be done with this conversation.


    She crossed her arms and leaned against the truck. ¡°I¡¯m good. Just looking around town for a job. My mother has been nagging me to do something.¡±


    The old woman waved a nonchalant hand in the air. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure she is just concerned for you. Margaret was always an anxious creature.¡±


    She nodded silently and looked away. Both of her parents had grown up in Morganwood, but moved away after college when her mother became pregnant with Ana. Her parent¡¯s relationship ended shortly after she was born, and she was raised by her human dad for the first sixteen years of her life. Her dad moved back to Morganwood after he inherited the house, but her mother stayed in Livernville. She didn¡¯t have custody, but always visited on holidays and birthdays. Ana felt unwanted by her as a child, until she met her real father for the first time and grew to learn why her mother was so determined to keep her away. She was just fine with her human dad, Alex Kravens, who always smelled like clay dust and oranges, who always had a warm smile on his face, and who supported her no matter what mistake she made. Her demonic father could never be like him. He was a creature. A cold, unfeeling person. A thing.


    ¡°Yes, you¡¯ve told me before,¡± Ana replied. ¡°It was nice talking to you, but I need to get these groceries home.¡±


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Mrs. Montgomery smiled and placed a hand on my arm. ¡°It was so nice to see you, sweetie. I know you haven¡¯t been to church in years, but we would welcome you with open arms if you ever decided to come back.¡±


    Ana gave her a strained smile. ¡°Yes. I¡¯m sure.¡±


    She smiled again before waddling off, clutching her purse. Ana immediately dropped her smile and opened the door to her truck.


    ¡°Old woman¡­¡± She inserted her keys and turned them. The truck coughed before coming alive, sounding like an old coal miner. Ana sighed and rested her head on the steering wheel. Every time I come into town, somebody has to nag me about something or other, as if they can¡¯t tell I willingly choose solitude over community. She raised her head from the steering wheel and pulled the stick into drive. Good riddance.


    ¡ª_¡ª


    Ana closed the fridge door and sighed. Gardening done. Groceries done. She turned around. Now, about that¡ª


    She jumped in the air and took a few steps back, bumping into the fridge. Marchosias had appeared right behind her, as still and silent as a statue.


    She relaxed, or at least tried to. Her heart was beating rapidly, and wouldn¡¯t stop. She took a deep breath and looked her father up and down. ¡°What? Did you forget something?¡±


    He raised his head and looked down at her. ¡°A polite way to greet your father.¡±


    She scoffed and walked around him. ¡°I¡¯ll start being polite when you start paying rent. What do you want?¡±


    ¡°There are cambions wandering close to the town.¡±


    Her hands hesitated on the cabinet before she opened it. A blanket of silence fell before them before Ana started giggling.


    ¡°Cambions? In a small town? What could they possibly want here? Church sermons?¡± She said, sifting through her tea cabinet. ¡°Maybe some home-grown tomatoes?¡±


    ¡°Be serious. A small town is a perfect place for a cambion to do their dirty business. Once they learn that you¡¯re here, they¡¯ll find you and kill you. Less competition, that way.¡± Marchosias replied.


    She grabbed a box of orange spice tea and slowly shook her head. ¡°I can hardly believe another cambion would see me as competition or a threat. I¡¯m barely one as it is.¡±


    She was a cambion, a first-born one at that. Most cambions, however, were merely descendants of demons. Marchosias claimed that being a first-born had given her more prestige than all the other cambions, but she has never been able to test that theory. Supposedly, cambions stayed away from first-borns, knowing if they harmed them in any way they could invoke the wrath of the demonic parent. She had met two other cambions before, and they had very nearly killed her for what she was. If she had prestige and honor, it didn¡¯t mean anything to them.


    She watched Marchosias from the corner of her eye. He stood still, hands at his side. He watched her she filled a mug with water and put it in the microwave.


    ¡°Does it matter? They¡¯ll find any reason to kill you.¡±


    Ana clicked her tongue. ¡°That¡¯ll be a nice reprieve. At least you wouldn¡¯t have me to deal with me anymore.¡±


    Silence, again. Even more silence as Ana took the mug of hot water out of the microwave and dipped the tea bags inside. The silence unsettled her. Maybe she shouldn¡¯t have said what she said. She had never known Marchosias to lose his temper, but that was just as scary as having a father who did.


    She left the mug on the counter and slowly turned to Marchosias. He was staring, as he always does, his face placid and emotionless. The clock in the living room ticked away as they stared at each other. Ana opened her mouth¡ª


    The sound of ceramic shattering and exploding erupted in the living room. Ana recoiled and drew back from the sound. After a few seconds of silence, she looked over the breakfast bar and into the living room. A white cloud of dust covered the area, but once it settled she saw the destruction. Ceramic shards and dust covered the floor and walls, coating everything in a tan-white color. There was also a smattering of gray close to the mantel, slowly mixing in with the ceramic dust as it spread outward. Her grandfather¡¯s urn had exploded, and the ashes were everywhere.


    She whipped around to Marchosias with a furious gaze. ¡°What the hell is your problem, huh?! Are you that fucking insane to ruin my entire living room over a goddamn joke?¡±


    He walked closer and leaned in. ¡°Pay attention when I speak. I don¡¯t want any sarcastic comments or jokes, you understand?¡±


    Ana face twisted into a scowl. ¡°Fuck off. I¡¯ve known raging toddlers to have a better temper then you.¡±


    She walked around him and into the living room. ¡°Fucking fantastic. Wait until mom hears about this one!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m being serious,¡± He followed her. ¡°Do you or do you not understand?¡±


    She waved her hands in exasperation. ¡°I understand! now fix my fucking living room!¡±


    He glared at her for a moment before waiving his hand. All the dust and ceramic shards swirled into a circle before retreating back to the fireplace mantel. The urn was returned back to it¡¯s original state, along with the ashes.


    Ana sighed and ran a hand through her hair. ¡°Okay. Fine. I¡¯ll look out for the fucking cambions. But I haven¡¯t seen anything except for an animal in the woods.¡±


    He tilted his head slightly as he examined her. ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re taking this seriously.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m not.¡± She walked over to the couch and picked up a pillow that had fallen. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen a cambion in years. You know that. They don¡¯t come to this town, it¡¯s too out of the way.¡±


    She threw the pillow back onto the couch and adjusted the orange quilt hanging off the back. Her jaw tightened when Marchosias fell silent again. She quickly turned back to him and gave him her full attention.


    ¡°It¡¯s the Motloe brothers.¡±


    My legs almost lost balance. My hand reached for the back of the couch, slipping once before grabbing onto it. Marchosias doesn¡¯t joke. He never jokes. Why would he say that, then? The Motloes were dead. They¡¯ve been dead for 6 years. He told her so himself. Killed during the incident when they were teenagers.


    ¡°You¡¯re lying.¡± Ana managed to squeak out. He slowly shook his head.


    ¡°You are,¡± She insisted. ¡°You told me they were dead. You killed them before taking me to the hospital.¡±


    ¡°I thought I did. I had no idea their bodies were taken by another demon.¡±


    I raised my eyebrows. ¡°They were revived? By who?¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. It matters that they are stalking around the town¡¯s border and you need to stay within the town.¡±


    She scoffed and crossed her arms. ¡°I have shit to do. You can¡¯t tell me where to go.¡±


    ¡°What, party? Get blackout drunk? I think it¡¯s best you stay in this town and feel grateful I¡¯m not putting you on house arrest.¡±


    Ana bit back a sarcastic remark and instead twitched her nose. ¡°Fine. Whatever. See you next week.¡±


    His eye twitched. He appeared as if he was about to say something else, but instead he disappeared in a cloud of purple mist.


    Ana collapsed onto the couch, letting her body sink into the plush cushions. The Motloes were back, which could only spell trouble. Her gaze turned to the wall of family photos, her eyes landing on a picture of her human dad and kid version of her on Halloween. But why did my father think they were dead this whole time? He doesn¡¯t make mistakes like that. He may be annoying, but he is also a meticulous and thorough man.


    Why did he lie?

 Chapter 3 - Mnemonic

    The crickets sang their evening tune as Ana turned the truck into her driveway, grimacing as the rickety machine bumped its way over the gravel road. It had been three days since Marchosias told her the Motloes were lurking around town, and she had been paranoid ever since. He said she was safe within her house, but he seemed to be picking up the habit of lying lately. He hadn¡¯t visited her since telling her, so she assumed he was still looking for them. It kept her awake at night, wondering when they would come and kill her.


    She killed the engine and unbuckled her seat-belt. She was about to push the door open when something on her porch caught her eye. She squinted in the dim evening light, and her eyes caught a man resting against the door, his face covered by a hood and face mask. Her face paled and she pulled up the back of her shirt and touched the tattoo on her lower back, a heavy revolver forming in her hands. It was a spell she had learned without the help of Marchosias, believing if she ever was in danger the last thing her attacker would expect was her pulling a gun from a tattoo. The tattoo was of two old revolvers surrounded by purple crocus flowers. She called it an illusory tattoo, humans called it a ¡®tramp stamp.¡¯


    She hesitantly pushed open her door and kept her eye on the man as she stepped out. He was blocking the door, and so she would have to move him to get in. He didn¡¯t move at all, and she swore he was dead until she noticed his ragged breathing. She cocked her gun and held it before her as she drew closer, her hands becoming sweaty as she thought of the worst outcomes of this situation.


    He was wearing a black jacket, the hood pulled over his head. The face mask, appearing like the ones worn during the pandemic, covered the bottom half of his face, but his forehead had a sheen of sweat on it and his eyes were closed. Her gaze moved to his body, and noticed his hand clutching the right side of his waist. Blood seeped from in between his gloved fingers.


    A Motloe? No, it couldn¡¯t be. A Motloe wouldn¡¯t show up to my door, wounded. Maybe a hiker? But he wasn¡¯t wearing hiker gear. Just a jacket and jeans, but he was in obvious pain. Was he hurt by something or someone? Maybe a Motloe. She wouldn¡¯t put it past them to hurt a random person. She was a product of their malice, after all.


    ¡°¡­Hello?¡± She tentatively called out. He didn¡¯t respond. He was out cold. She lowered her gun and walked closer to him, up the porch steps. She could hear his ragged breathing now. He seemed to be in great pain, if his breath and bloody hands didn¡¯t show it enough. Some part of Ana told her to summon Marchosias, just in case this man was dangerous. But what use was he now? He couldn¡¯t even find the Motloes, and he was skilled at tracking spells. She was, too.


    She kneeled beside him and lifted his wrist away from his side. His head twitched from the movement, but he did not wake. She couldn¡¯t see anything except blood on the dark jacket, and in his current sitting position she couldn¡¯t look at it correctly. Taking him into her house wasn¡¯t an option, since he was still a stranger, so he would have to be put in the barn. She also considered taking him to the hospital, but an ambulance would take too long to get there and her truck was only a small two-seater. His wound looked too serious to wait around.


    The barn was empty, Ana having sold the animals just after her dad died, having no energy or will to take care of them. He kept a couple of goats and a horse as a sort of hobby, despite having many other hobbies. Ana wasn¡¯t much for animals besides dogs, and decided it was better they went to loving homes than staying here.


    She rose from her spot and rolled up her sleeves. ¡°I can¡¯t pick your heavy ass up, so let¡¯s hope magic doesn¡¯t freak you out.¡±


    ¡ª_¡ª


    Ana sighed and stretched out her arms, magic leaking out of her hands and fading into the air. She had set the man down in the far corner on top of an old horse blanket she knew Jazzy slept on. He lay on his back, his breathing still uneven and worrisome.


    She kneeled next to him and unzipped his jacket, pulling both sides away from his body. His dark green shirt was caked in blood, and Ana grimaced. She pulled the med kit she had grabbed from her house closer to her before gently lifting his shirt up. A deep gash marked his stomach, at least a couple inches long and bleeding profusely. The cut was a problem, but there was also something about his skin that confused her. The light terracotta skin almost looked leathery and shiny in the dim barn light. She pulled his shirt up further, and realized he was covered in severe burn scars, twisting and stretching his skin in gruesome ways. They were almost too gross to look at, and Ana refrained from shying away from the sight. Is he covered head to toe in these scars? She pulled his shirt far enough to where she could still see the cut.


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    She took a deep breath and placed her hands over the bloody wound. Her mind went to the smell of sharp pine and heady smoke, swirling in the dark and filling the air. Purple fog of magic flowed from her hands and covered the man¡¯s stomach until Ana focused on the wound underneath her hands, eyes trained on the way his stomach moved up and down under her touch. The fog obeyed her will and seeped into the wound, her fingers tingling with unnatural power. The veins on her wrists became restless after awhile, but the wound was not fully healed. She focused harder, holding her breath as she willed more mageia from her hands. She could feel it absorb into his skin and spread throughout the wound, stopping the bleeding and attempting to close the deep cut. She felt something else, too. His fast heartbeat calming, his blood rushing through his veins, and¡­something else. Something made of mageia.


    She pulled her hands away and rose to her feet, taking a few steps back. Humans aren¡¯t supposed to have mageia. What was that? She studied the man, how his breathing become slow and even and his pained face visibly calmed. Was it possible it was just leftover mageia from when the Motloes attacked him? If they attacked him, that is¡­ It was possible he was a hitchhiker who was unfortunate enough to run into the Motloes, but that meant they were closer to her house than she thought.


    Or maybe it wasn¡¯t the Motloes, but some random cambions, she kneeled next to him again and pulled his shirt back down, and my father just said that to scare me.


    It was night now, and she was tired. The man was still unconscious, but she would visit him tomorrow in the morning with breakfast. Hopefully, he will be awake by then.


    Before she left, she pulled his face mask down, mostly out of curiosity. Under the mask was a large nose and bow-shaped lips. She felt a strange sense of deja vu, as if she knew him from somewhere.


    ¡ª_¡ª


    She cooked for once. No cereal or takeout. Real, hot scrambled eggs and sausage patties. She would¡¯ve had cereal, if not for the wounded man in her barn. She walked to the barn, a plate of the warm food in hand. It was only morning, but the early June sun was already heating up the day. Jazzy was at the entrance to the barn, looking in on the stranger. When she approached her, she shooed her away from the door. With an angry tail flick and airplane ears, she trotted off around the corner.


    She entered the barn and walked over to the man. He appeared to still be asleep, but when she kneeled next to him, he opened his eyes and appeared startled. He quickly moved away, flinching at the pain it caused in his stomach.


    ¡°Hang on, it¡¯s alright. I ain¡¯t gonna hurt you. You showed up to my door, remember?¡± Ana raised her hands in a silent plea.


    He looked at her with wide eyes, his shoulders drawn back in a defensive posture. Eventually, his eyes flicking to the plate of eggs next to him. Ana stood and backed away, and he visibly calmed down. He hesitantly took the plate and grabbed the fork in one hand. He seemed to hold it awkwardly, the last three of his fingers only half-bent. He also kept his gloves on, and Ana surmised he may be horrifically scarred all over.


    ¡°Where did you come from?¡± She asked.


    He looked up at her before quickly looking back down at the eggs. ¡°North¡ªnorth of here. In Tennessee.¡±


    His voice was rough and gravelly, as if he screamed it hoarse too many times. It was hard to listen to, and especially to decipher his words. He seemed to be anxious about her being there, too. His fingers shook as he tried to calmly eat the food.


    ¡°You a hitchhiker? Who gave you that nasty cut?¡±


    He hesitated, his fork stilling. He glanced at her, his dark eyes searching her face. Ana had the same feeling of deja vu from last night, but she still couldn¡¯t place it. Where have I seen you before?


    She turned and looked at the wall behind her. A tool rack lay in a mess, tools spread across the ground. Damn Jazzy. She walked over to the rack and began placing the tools back on the rack.


    ¡°You mind answering my question,¡± She spoke up, ¡°Or are you going to keep staring?¡±


    She placed a shovel back on the rack, brushing off the dirt on the handle. She didn¡¯t wanna look back at him. His face confused her, and she couldn¡¯t discern why.


    ¡°From¡­from Judas.¡±


    Her breath hitched. Judas. She knew that name. She knew that name all too well. Her brain started working, the rusty cogs kicking back into motion. There it was, in the back of her mind. The deja vu feeling wasn¡¯t just a feeling. It was recognition, it was memories. Her hands began to shake, and she clenched them into fists. She slowly turned back to the man and his familiar face.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± She swallowed. ¡°Tell me your name.¡± She already knew the answer, but she needed confirmation. Or, maybe, assurance that he wasn¡¯t the man that she thought he was.


    ¡°Beau¡­Beau Motloe?¡±


    Ana, a younger Ana, with bleached white hair and too many earrings to count, opened the locker door as she glanced at the nervous, awkward-looking boy next to her. His black hair was long, tied to the back of his neck. Acne sprinkled his jawline, and his fingers anxiously tapped his other arm.


    ¡°Motloe, huh? So that¡¯s why you¡¯re asking about Judas? You¡¯re his older brother.¡± Ana replied, hanging her backpack in the locker and taking out her books.


    ¡°He shouldn¡¯t have given you that grimoire. It¡¯s a family heirloom. Return it to us before our father gets mad.¡±


    ¡°Ooh, your father! I¡¯m so scared! Have you forgotten who my father is?¡± She pulled out a notebook and a binder before shutting the locker, a grin on her face. She fully turned to Beau, silver hoops jangling.


    ¡°Last time I checked, it was his grimoire. Not only that,¡± She walked closer to him. ¡°You both don¡¯t have the same daddies. Maybe you should ask your father whether or not its worth going against a demon for a nasty old book he can¡¯t even use.¡±


    He glared at her, dark brown eyes saying words he could never say himself. ¡°My family is none of your business. Give the book back to Judas.¡±


    He turned and walked off, but stopped after a few steps. He turned his head back to her. ¡°Besides, you can¡¯t even use it yourself.¡±


    She blinked. She was back to the present, with a much older Beau only a few feet away from her. His hood was down, and his hair was now shoulder length and messy. His face was strangely smooth and clean compared to his neck, which was also covered in ghastly burn scars. He had lost weight, but was still broad-chested and a little pudgy. He was almost a stranger, but he was also still Beau Motloe.


    Oh, how times have changed.

 Chapter 4 - Induction

    Ana stepped away from him until her back hit the tool rack, metal clanging against metal. Her heart lurched into her throat as realization dawned upon her. Beau quickly set the plate aside and stood, clutching his stomach.


    ¡°Wait, please just listen¡ª¡±


    ¡°Stay away from me,¡± Ana breathed, her heart starting to pound in her chest. She glanced at the large barn doors, wondering how long it would take for her to get back to the house and summon Marchosias.


    He raised his hands in a silent plea. ¡°I just want to talk. I promise Judas isn¡¯t here¡ª¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care! Get away from me before I summon my father!¡± Ana yelled, raising a hand in defense.


    He looked at her, confused. ¡°Summon your¡ª¡± He looked around the barn and where Ana was standing, and took a few steps back. ¡°I¡¯m not here to hurt you.¡±


    ¡°The last time I saw you, you did. You tried to kill me in your basement. You, your father, Judas. You tried to steal my core for yourself, my father told me so!¡±


    ¡°Your father¡ª¡± He quickly shook his head. ¡°No, I didn¡¯t want to, remember? I didn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    He stopped talking, and took a good look at Ana. His eyes concentrated on the left side of her face, a confused look in his eye. ¡°You¡­you don¡¯t remember what happened, do you?¡±


    She raised her head high, trying her best not to show her fear. ¡°Of course I don¡¯t remember what happened six fucking years ago! You think I would remember something like that? Besides, I don¡¯t need to. My father told me what happened.¡±


    He raised his eyebrows. ¡°You trust his every word?¡±


    She faltered. Do I trust his every word? After the incident, Marchosias had told her what happened. The Motloes captured her and attempted to kill her to steal her core, the very source of her magic and being. Beau was the one to capture her. She often had dreams of a dark monster chasing her through a forest, and it took years for them to go away.


    She thought back to only a few days ago when Marchosias told her the Motloes were still alive, after years of telling her they were dead. He had lied before, but it was to console her. Make her worry less that they would come back and kill her in the night. That had to of been the reason.


    ¡°I trust him better than I trust you.¡± She finally replied.


    He thinned his lips. ¡°That¡¯s a mistake. If you remembered that night, you wouldn¡¯t say the same.¡±


    She scowled. ¡°I don¡¯t care what you have to say.¡± Her hand reached behind her and took hold of a sickle hanging on the rack. ¡°Get out of here before I summon my father. Now!¡±


    He flinched, and looked away. ¡°Please, just listen to what I have to say¡ª¡±


    ¡°No,¡± She shook her head. ¡°Get out, and don¡¯t come back.¡±


    He started walking to the door, his hands still raised. ¡°I just have a request, just one. In exchange, I¡¯ll tell you what happened. Just consider it, please. I¡¯m staying at the motel just outside of town¡ªyou can find me there.¡±


    She didn¡¯t answer. She held the sickle to her side, the blade reflecting the morning light streaming through the broken ceiling. He glanced at it before returning his eyes to her. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. For everything that has happened between us.¡±


    He left the barn, and Ana waited a few seconds before sinking to the dirt floor. She dropped the sickle and held her face in her hands. She had just saved a man from bleeding out on her front porch without knowing it was Beau Motloe. She felt like a fool. Why hadn¡¯t she recognized him? Now that she thought of it, all of the Motloes¡¯ faces were a blur, even Mrs. Motloe, the kind woman who had nothing to do with the rest of her family¡¯s problems.


    She stood on shaky legs and placed the sickle back on the rack. She left the barn, looking around the yard for any sign of Beau, but he had completely left. She walked back to her house, constantly looking behind her back for any sign of the Motloes, but the field was dead quiet.


    She opened the front door and quickly entered the house, locking the door with shaky fingers. She went to the living room and to the alter where the supplies for summoning Marchosias lay. It was the most basic of supplies; chalk, perfume, incense lamp, a paper of invocations, and an amulet with the Pentagram of Solomon hanging on a delicate silver chain. She leaned her hands on the altar and looked at the items as she sorted her thoughts. She took hold of the amulet and held it before her, watching the light reflect off of the silver as it turned. On the other side of the pendant was Marchosias¡¯ demonic sigil with his name around it. The human magicians had given him the name Marchosias so they could summon him at will, but Ana knew he hated that name with a passion. He warned her not to say that name in front of him, and she willfully obeyed.


    Ana wanted to summon him, she really did, but she kept on thinking back to what Beau had said. He was a liar, and she knew he was right about that, even if it pained her to admit it. Marchosias had lied about the Motloes being dead all these years. Even if it was to make her worry less, why hadn¡¯t he at least gone back to make sure that they were dead after the incident? What else was he hiding from her?


    Besides, something else in the back of her mind was stopping her from picking up the chalk and drawing the pentagram. Beau, unlike Ana, had remembered what happened during that night in the basement. He had information that Ana had been dying to know since she had forgotten. What could Beau possibly need in exchange for the information? Her blood? Her soul? He had come to her for help, despite the risk of running into Marchosias. He must be determined to make this deal if he is brave enough to go behind her father¡¯s back for it.


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    She dropped the pendant back on the altar and sat down on the couch. I¡¯ll just wait, she thought. I¡¯ll just wait and think.


    She spent the next few hours watching TV, trying not to jump at every sound she heard. Her heart lurched when she heard scratching at the front door, only to realize it was just Jazzy wanting in for some overdue breakfast. She scolded herself for being so jumpy and let the fat feline inside. She fed her some kibble before sitting back down.


    Ana was almost about to doze off when she felt a presence behind her. Like a change in the air, she felt them enter the room. She quickly rose from the couch and whipped around, but visibly relaxed when she realized it was just Marchosias.


    ¡°Jumpy?¡± He said.


    She sighed and sat back down. ¡°No. Just didn¡¯t get much sleep last night.¡± The truth. Not a lie. It was impossible to lie and get away with it in front of Marchosias, he was a master of detecting lies.


    ¡°What are you doing her?¡± She asked, grabbing her beer bottle and downing the last of it.


    ¡°I can¡¯t visit my daughter when I please?¡± He moved in front of her and stood in the corner of the room, looking like a mannequin on display at a clothing store.


    ¡°You usually visit once a week. I don¡¯t remember you being that clingy.¡± Ana responded.


    He stared at her for a few seconds before turning his head to the TV. ¡°You must remember that I have a room here. I can come when I please.¡±


    Of course she remembers. It was her human dad¡¯s room. After his funeral, her demonic father had cleared it out and started using it during the winters when he had to rest to recuperate his magic. It was now empty except for a bed. No nightstands, no lamps, no posters or paintings. The room was now as boring as his personality. Even the closet was vacant of any items, save for a few cobwebs here and there. When he had done it, Ana was upset because he did not give her a warning or even tell her where he put her old father¡¯s stuff. She had looked in all the other rooms and even the attic, but she couldn¡¯t find them. When she confronted him, he told her he put them in the basement. The one room he knew she would absolutely refuse to go into. The last time she went into a basement was when the Motloes had tried to kill her. She couldn¡¯t remember it, but she had enough reason to not go down there.


    She knew why he had done that to her dad¡¯s room. It was like he was striking the final nail in the coffin; he had fully replaced her dad. No more Alex Kravens. No more warm hugs and wild berry pies. Only cold stares and lectures on what she should do for the rest of her life.


    Ana was brought back to the present when Marchosias turned off the TV.


    ¡°I was watching that!¡± She complained.


    ¡°Human drivel.¡± He responded, walking to the hallway.


    ¡°It was the news!¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re training. Let¡¯s go.¡± He called from the hallway, and Ana heard the front door open. She cursed silently to herself before grabbing her shoes from where they were resting by the couch.


    ¡°Says who?¡±


    ¡°Me. Let¡¯s go!¡± He called again, and Ana hurried to catch up with him as she heard the front door open and shut.


    ¡ª_¡ª


    ¡°Left foot forward. Right foot to the side, facing right. Your right hand should be facing the sky, not the horizon.¡±


    Ana muttered some curses before fixing her stance. ¡°Sky, horizon. What¡¯s the difference?¡±


    Marchosias walked around her, arms crossed. They were in the field behind her house. What was originally a place to grow crops was now a training ground for Mageia spells. They had been practicing for an hour, and Ana felt exhausted. He had always made her practice at least once a month, despite her reluctance in doing so.


    ¡°The difference is that the spell works and you don¡¯t screw it up. Now say the incantation.¡± He replied, stopping ten feet away from her.


    She sighed and concentrated on the sigil in her hand. It was a dark amber color, almost brown. She took in a deep breath, absorbing the smells of fresh snow and sandalwood that still permeated the air, and tried to remember what Marchosias had made her memorize earlier.


    ¡°Phenex, I beseech thee, lend me your power so I may protect myself. Shield me from elements that may cause me harm.¡±


    The sigil in her hand glowed a warm amber before rising and separating from her palm. It enlarged and faded just as an orange transparent screen formed in between Ana and Marchosias. Ana tentatively placed her hands on the screen and realized it was solid. It worked. You usually they didn¡¯t work, but this wasn¡¯t a typical spell he made her use. Usually they were purple, not a dark orange color.


    She let out a breathy laugh and looked at Marchosias. ¡°It worked!¡±


    He let out a hmph and walked to the barrier. He pounded his fist on it a few times and it held, but he still didn¡¯t seem satisfied. He backed a few steps away from the shield.


    Ana craned her neck to look up at the top of the barrier. ¡°Where did you get this spell, exactly?¡±


    ¡°A colleague.¡± His fist pounded against the barrier, causing it to shake and form a massive crack. Ana stumbled back, not expecting him to attack with such force.


    ¡°A colleague? Did you beat it out of them first?¡±¡±


    He ignored her comment, sticking his fingers inside the crack and pulling. It grew bigger and bigger until the barrier shattered and disintegrated, the remnants fading in the air.


    Ana sighed, crossing her arms. ¡°I worked hard on that, you know.¡±


    He started circling her again. Like a predator, he considered her with a calculative glare. ¡°Do it again. This time, form your hand into a fist after the sigil raises.¡±


    ¡°Again?¡± She placed her hands on her hips and groaned. ¡°I¡¯m exhausted. We¡¯ve been at this for hours.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re exaggerating. Perform the spell.¡±


    She grumbled before raising her hands and fixing her posture. ¡°Is this because of the Motloes? Afraid they¡¯ll nab me in the night or something?¡±


    He didn¡¯t respond. She rolled her eyes, but did as he commanded. She took a small capsule out of her pocket and pinched it between her fingers, close to her nose. The smells from earlier were now gone, and so she had to take a small, transparent capsule from her pocket and break it in between her fingers. The capsule broke, and her nostrils were invaded with the same smells. She took in the scent and concentrated on her hands and soon, dark sigils started to glow just above her palms. She adjusted her hands before repeating the incantation, and formed her left hand into a fist just as the sigil was lifted into the air. Instead of forming a flat barrier, it turned into a curved shield in front of her. It floated, standing at least four feet high and as wide as two people.


    ¡°Woah¡ª¡±


    Marchosias began barraging her with attacks. Small blasts of purple energy flying at her like comets in the sky, but they still made her stumble back. She dug her feet into the ground and held the shield in front of her, but soon he started to move around. From right to left to right, he threw the angry balls of energy at her. She was only given a split second to move the shield to defend herself when he changed his spot, disappearing and reappearing in the blink of an eye. After what felt like an hour of the constant attacks, Ana soon felt exhausted. It took everything in her to move the shield around and deflect the attacks. There seemed to be an invisible force trying to pry her hand open and release the shield, leaving her vulnerable to her father¡¯s magic.


    ¡°I¡¯ve had enough! Stop!¡± She cried, but she was ignored.


    Tears started to stream at her eyes, and her hand felt as if her veins were trying to push through the skin. Her arms felt heavier and heavier by the second.


    ¡°I¡¯m tired!¡± She cried again.


    ¡°Keep the shield up!¡± Marchosias yelled in between firing the balls of energy.


    She cried out as the balls of energy became heavier and faster, and attempted to hold her ground but failed. After a particularly heavy blast, she fell backwards and tried to catch herself with her free hand. She yelped as a pain erupted in her wrist and she rolled onto her side, clutching the hand. She took in a gasp of air before shooting a glare at Marchosias.


    ¡°What the hell is your problem? I said I had to stop!¡± She exclaimed.


    He stopped in front of her and looked down. ¡°The Motloes won¡¯t stop if you ask them too. They will kill you with no remorse or hesitation.¡±


    Her mouth closed at the mention of the Motloes. She thought of Beau, and how she made the decision to not summon Marchosias, only because he had left when she told him too. He hadn¡¯t tried to kill her then. Should I tell him about Beau now? Has the damage already been done?


    ¡°So now you¡¯re preparing for me death then, huh?¡± She bit back. ¡°Trying to make up for the lie you¡¯ve been telling me for the past six years?¡±


    His face turned sour. She immediately rose to the ground and backed away.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t lie. I told you I hadn¡¯t checked after taking you to the hospital. Would you rather I had left you to bleed out while I made sure their heads were separated from their bodies?¡± He replied, leaning in close to her.


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± She slowly shook her head. ¡°Don¡¯t try to guilt trip me. It won¡¯t work. You fucked up, and now you must pay the consequences.¡±


    He glared at her, and she felt her blood run cold. Demons can¡¯t lay a finger on their children, it¡¯s a rule none of them can disobey, she assured herself. He can¡¯t harm me. He can¡¯t kill me.


    He disappeared, and Ana was left staring into a cloud of purple mist. She let out a deep breath and clutched her sprained wrist.


    ¡°Fuck. Fucking shit.¡±

 Chapter 5 - Colloquy

    The cacophony of bobcats yowling in the forest filled the night, stopping for just a brief moment before picking back up again. Low, guttural screams and moans entered Ana¡¯s bedroom, sounding like a woman in deep pain. She had lived long enough in the forest to know that it was just animals, most likely a mother cat protecting her cubs from a predator. Despite that ingrained knowledge, Ana still couldn¡¯t help but think there was a woman in distress somewhere out there, screaming for help and receiving none. Sometimes she felt like that woman, alone in the abyssal forest with nothing but her own voice to keep her company. Had she sounded the same as the bobcats when Marchosias pushed her to exhaustion during training? Maybe that¡¯s why he left. She shows any semblance of pain or distress, and he looks the other way. Like the screaming bobcats, she is heard but ignored.


    She took her hand out of the blanket and looked at her wrist. She had healed it after Marchosias had left, but she still felt a dull ache in all of her veins. She had used to much Mageia, and now payed the price. Aching wrists and exhaustion plagued her, but no matter what she did she could not fall asleep. She felt as if she was partly to blame for it with her insistence on pushing Marchosias¡¯ buttons. She had pushed him far enough that he had found a way to punish her, but what for? Asking questions? Making a few jokes? Her snarky attitude toward him hadn¡¯t changed over the years. Had he just been too overwhelmed by everything that she was the final nail in the coffin of his anger control?


    It doesn¡¯t matter now, she thought. At some point he¡¯s going to find the Motloes, and maybe even find out that she talked with Beau. Beau. She had pushed their encounter to the back of her brain, hoping that Marchosias couldn¡¯t secretly read her mind and find out about it. She hadn¡¯t had time to ruminate on Beau¡¯s request, as Marchosias had preoccupied her for the rest of the day. She would admit it was tempting, though. A chance to regain her memories and find out what exactly happened that night, now that she suspected Marchosias was lying. Did he really lie? She started to doubt herself. It¡¯s not like I payed much attention to what anybody said in the years preceding the incident, and tried my best to remember what happened myself. That only ended up in fits of rage and horrible headaches, resulting in a cigarette addiction to cope. She hadn¡¯t smoked in six months, something her mother was proud of.


    Her mother. She turned in bed and looked at the nightstand, where her phone lay in the charger. She could call her and ask for her side of the story. She wasn¡¯t there that night, but Marchosias must¡¯ve told her what happened. She worked night shifts at the hospital, so it was likely she was up this late. It wouldn¡¯t give Ana any new information, but it would put her mind at ease¡­or create new questions.


    She rose from the bed and grabbed her phone. She called her mother as she left the room and went downstairs. It rang twice before her mother picked up.


    ¡°Ana? Are you alright, hon?¡±


    Her mother, Margaret Devlin, still lived in the town where the incident took place. Livernville, a bustling town in northern Florida, had been her mother¡¯s home since she and her dad graduated from university. She seemed quite content there, and refused to move even after the incident. Ana could never understand why she insisted living across the street from the now abandoned Motloe residence. It was one of the reasons why she didn¡¯t visit her mother. Marchosias still visited, however, despite not being in a relationship. Ana didn¡¯t know what they counted as. Friends? Acquaintances?


    She grabbed a mug from the kitchen cupboard. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m fine. I just couldn¡¯t sleep. Animals in the forest are keeping me up.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Well, it¡¯s good to hear your voice. I¡¯m not too busy here at the hospital, so I have time to chat. Anything bothering you?¡±


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    Ana filled the cup with water and put it in the microwave. She grabbed a box of tea as she tried not to drop the phone. ¡°Yeah, I just had a question¡­about the incident.¡±


    She was met with silence. Ana tried to wait for her mother to answer on her own, but the silence was making her anxious. ¡°Mom?¡±


    There was shuffling on the other end, as if she was adjusting the phone on her ear. ¡°Sorry, I got distracted. What did you want to know?¡±


    ¡°I wanted to know what¡­father told you what happened. During that night.¡± She took the mug out of the microwave and dipped the teabags into the steaming water.


    ¡°What for?¡± More shuffling on her end, as if she was switching the phone from one ear to the other. ¡°Have you been having¡­problems again?¡±


    Problems. It was her mom¡¯s way of saying ¡®episodes¡¯, alluding to her fits of anger that used to plague her. Ana sighed and leaned against the counter. ¡°No, I just want to know what he told you.¡±


    Her mother sighed now. ¡°Ana-Girl, I don¡¯t know what¡¯s the point of dredging up the past if it¡¯s just going to hurt you more. If you think your father told you something else, maybe it was just to protect you.¡±


    Ana scratched her head and closed her eyes. ¡°Just¡­tell me. Please. I just want to know.¡±


    Her mother grumbled something unintelligible. ¡°Fine. Your father told me he knew you were in trouble, went to the Motloe¡¯s house, and¡­took care of them¡ª¡±


    ¡°Took care of them how?¡± She moved to the kitchen window and looked out into the dark field.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, he just told me they were all dead, except for the mother. He took you to the hospital afterward and made sure that none of the doctors remembered you were there. That¡¯s when he brought me to you.¡± Her mother said.


    ¡°He didn¡¯t¡­tell you anything else? Nothing specific?¡± Ana pushed.


    ¡°No. You can¡¯t push your father for details, you know that¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, I know. Why do you think I¡¯m asking you?¡± Ana went back to her cup of tea and threw the tea bags into the trash. ¡°He¡¯s bit of an antisocial ass.¡±


    ¡°Analiese.¡±


    Ana hand stopped halfway from grabbing the jar of sugar. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Have you started smoking again? You sound stressed.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± She scoffed. ¡°No. Why would you think that? I¡¯m just making tea.¡±


    Her accusation weren¡¯t baseless. When she still had nightmares every night, she would stay up, smoke and talk to her mom on the phone. It was a horrible habit that took months to kick out of.


    ¡°When¡¯s the last time you talked to father?¡± Ana changed the subject.


    There was some more shuffling on the other end, and then a yawn. ¡°A week or two ago. I don¡¯t know. He came to me for something, and I told him to encourage you to get a job, or do something. Speaking of getting out, have you seen your therapist?¡±


    Ana grumbled in annoyance, pinching the bridge of her nose. ¡°No. I haven¡¯t seen that old hag in three weeks. I don¡¯t need her anymore.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous.You can¡¯t just not need your¡ª¡±


    ¡°Mom, I have to go. I¡¯m gonna try and get some rest. I love you.¡±


    ¡°Oh. I love you¡ª¡±


    She hung up and threw her phone onto the counter. It seems she couldn¡¯t talk to her mother these days without nagging her about something or other. Smoking, therapy, a job¡­ it all became repetitive at some point. She loved her, but sometimes Ana forgot that talking to her for more than a few seconds was tiring. Why couldn¡¯t she just believe that she was doing fine instead of asking her?


    She now had another problem on her hands. If her mother became concerned about her, she may tell Marchosias about her out-of-the-blue questions, something she didn¡¯t need. Ana wasn¡¯t clever enough to lie to Marchosias about asking suspicious questions. She wasn¡¯t sure what the consequences were for talking to Beau and not telling him, but she assumed they were grave.


    Besides that, asking her mom the question was no help, and she didn¡¯t mention anything about cambions so she must not know about the Motloes running loose. Why hadn¡¯t Marchosias told her mother that she was in danger? She was starting to believe he wasn¡¯t doing all of these things out of concern for everybody¡¯s stress levels. Why was he keeping secrets?


    Ana groaned and held her head in her hands. Was she really going to have to go to Beau for answers? Was he the only one willing to tell her what happened? That is, if his deal is worth it. She still had no clue what he wanted from her, and meeting him at the motel sounded like a trap just waiting to happen.


    But¡­answers. He has answers I need. So close to me, and yet so risky. She dumped a few spoonfuls of sugar into her tea and stirred. But if Judas is there¡­


    The spoon stopped. Judas. Her fingers began to shake, and she quickly shook her head and dropped the spoon into the sink. No, I won¡¯t think of him now. Not ever.


    She gulped down her tea and set the mug in the sink. She was tired, but she felt as if she had a goal in life for once. Although, she wasn¡¯t set on anything yet, she knew what she was at least going to do when morning comes.

 Chapter 6 - Bailiwick

    Now that she sat in front of the motel, Ana was beginning to regret her decision.


    Her hands gripped the steering wheel as she looked at the dingy exterior of the two-story motel. Wooden doors, dirty windows, and faded blue paint greeted her as she tried to calm her beating heart, her leg bouncing anxiously. He didn¡¯t even give me a room number. How am I supposed to know where he is? Go door-to-door?


    She pried her clammy fingers from the steering wheels and took a deep breath. Before she could second-guess the decision for the millionth time, she swung open the truck door and stepped out. She closed it shut behind her, jumping at the loud bang. She scolded herself for being so jumpy, and patted her pants pocket for a cigarette¡ªbut she didn¡¯t have any. She hadn¡¯t carried smokes with her in awhile, but that habit still stayed with her.


    She quickly shook her head and walked briskly to the main office. No cigarettes. You¡¯re on you own.


    She pulled open the door and walked inside, her face being hit with a blast of cold hair. The desk clerk, a middle-aged woman with mousy brown hair and messy lipstick, was sitting behind the counter and playing solitaire. Upon seeing Ana enter, she closed the game and beamed a smile at her


    ¡°Well, hello! How are you doing today, hon?¡±


    She gave her her best smile despite her low energy. ¡°I¡¯m good, thank you. I¡¯m supposed to meet somebody here, but he didn¡¯t tell me his room number. Can you, perhaps¡­?¡±


    The clerk frowned. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but we¡¯re not allowed to give out that information. For the privacy of the occupant, and whatnot.¡±


    Ana sighed and leaned against the counter with her elbows. She faced her palms in the air, and focused on the intricate lines. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to have to do this, but¡­how do you feel about your brain being turned into mush?¡±


    ¡°Wha¡­?¡± The poor woman barely had time to react before Ana reached out and placed her palms on her cheeks. Mageia flowed from her palms and into the woman¡¯s face, decorating her skin with purple lines and swirls. Her hazel eyes became glossy and her mouth hung open.


    ¡°Good,¡± Ana breathed, still feeling worn out from last night¡¯s training. ¡°Now, tell me what room Beau Motloe is staying in.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know that name.¡± The clerk murmured, her voice sounding distant.


    Ana sighed. ¡°Black hair, same height as me, brown eyes, sort of an awkward weirdo, looks native American?¡±


    The clerk¡¯s eyes lit up for a moment. ¡°Oh. Four or five days ago. He had funny hands like yours. Paid for a room for a few weeks and said not to bother him. He¡¯s in room 202, the first door up the stairs.¡±


    Ana beamed. ¡°See, was that so hard? Now, you¡¯ll forget that I was ever here, and you¡¯ll forget what I did to you in the next few seconds. Understand?¡±


    The clerk nodded numbly. Ana quickly let go of her face and walked out of the chilly room, wiping greasy concealer on her jeans with a disgusted frown.


    She ascended the steps two at a time, her heart racing as the thought of what she was about to do reached the front of her brain again. If Marchosias found out¡­she would be in serious trouble.


    She stopped in front of the door. Room 202, the sign said. The window was covered, and she couldn¡¯t tell if there was a light on inside. Was he even in there?


    Her hands shook as she raised them to the door and knocked twice. Silence for a brief moment, before she heard footsteps walk to the door. It didn¡¯t open however, and Ana was left wondering if she had the right door after all. She looked at the window, but the curtains did not move.


    She gulped and opened her mouth to call out just before the door opened. Beau stood in the doorway, dressed in the same jacket as before. His hair looked ruffled and there were bags under his eyes as if he barely slept last night. He looked at Ana with a placid expression with just a hint of confusion, as if he wasn¡¯t sure why she had showed up.


    Ana realized her mouth was still open and promptly closed it shut. She looked behind him and into the dark room, but could not tell if there was anybody else inside. She looked back at Beau, who still hadn¡¯t said anything since she got there.


    ¡°Tell me about the deal.¡± She murmured quietly. She thought he hadn¡¯t heard her at first, but then he walked further into the dark room, leaving the door open. He was giving her a choice. Walk in, or leave.


    She took a deep breath, and walked inside.


    Beau turned on the lamp next to the bed and Ana tentatively shut the door. She kept it unlocked and opened the curtains, letting light spew into the room. She didn¡¯t care about light, but being able to see outside made her feel a little less trapped.


    Yellow carpet and drab off-white walls decorated the small space. Boring paintings of forest scenery decorated the walls so as to make it more lively, but Ana felt as if they were in a funeral home. Two beds were off to the side, one messy and the other neat. Ana eyed the beds, wondering if they were both being used or if there were just no single rooms available.


    She looked to Beau, who was standing on the opposite side with his arms crossed and avoiding her gaze. He looked nervous, as if he hadn¡¯t thought through this invitation fully.


    Ana set her back against the door, ready for a quick escape if needed. ¡°Tell me. What do you want?¡±


    He glanced at her before quickly averted his eyes. He adjusted his posture before opening his mouth. ¡°My mom, she went missing during¡­.six years ago. I can¡¯t find her and¡ªand I need help.¡±


    His mother. Of course. Emily Motloe, the kind wife and mom. Ana never had anything against the poor woman, and even had a few conversations with her before the incident. She seemed innocent in the whole situation, and Ana remembered feeling guilty upon learning that she had gone missing. Marchosias never managed to find her, which she knew infuriated him to no end. She wasn¡¯t from the south, and judging by her accent she came from somewhere northeast. Beau seemed to care a lot about her, seeing as he is risking everything to ask for Ana¡¯s help to find her. She didn¡¯t understand why though. There were other demons out there with the affinity for location spells, all he had to do was find one of their descendants and make a less risky and life-threatening deal. Why did he come to her, of all people?


    Ana shrugged her shoulders. ¡°What do you want me to do? Look through missing persons case files?¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°No. Because of who your father is, you should be skilled in location and tracking spells, right?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t practice much, especially those kinds of spells. How do you know your mother is still alive, anyhow?¡±


    He grimaced, and looked down at the floor. ¡°I just know. She¡¯s alive, and out there somewhere.¡±


    Ana raised her head and considered him. One tracking spell in exchange for her memories. It seemed too easy, there must have been a catch.


    ¡°You want a location spell. That¡¯s it?¡± She asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t expect it to work on the first try. The only thing I have that can be used to track her is my blood, because I am her son.¡± He adjusted his stance again, his nervousness still present.


    ¡°So multiple location spells.¡± Ana rubbed her head, working out the logistics in her head. ¡°And then, what? We find out where she is and you tell me what happened?¡±


    He slowly nodded. ¡°Yes. That¡¯s the deal.¡±


    ¡°Your father. Where is he in all this? Why can¡¯t you get him to help?¡±


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    He flinched and tightened his arms around him. Ana seems to have struck a chord. ¡°He¡¯s dead. I can¡¯t do that.¡±


    She nodded. She felt nothing for the news of his death. Although she was a bit skeptical of his death as Beau, who was dead, was now standing in front of her now, she never like Mr. Motloe and he never liked her. Just being related to Marchosias made him automatically hate her.


    ¡°You know what will happen if my father catches you, right? I¡¯m surprised he hasn¡¯t already.¡± Ana commented, making her way to the edge of the closest bed to her.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been taking precautions. I know what I¡¯m doing,¡± Beau murmured.


    She sat down and put her hands in her pockets. ¡°Do you? Does Judas know?¡±


    ¡°Judas isn¡¯t here,¡± He quickly replied. He realized his mistake when Ana smiled.


    ¡°So, he¡¯s alive then? He really did stab you?¡±


    He sighed and looked away. ¡°He¡¯s with his father somewhere. I haven¡¯t seen him since that day. I¡¯m sure you remember how bad his¡­tantrums were.¡±


    Her smile faded and she looked away. She couldn¡¯t remember much of Judas, actually. He was nothing but a blur in her mind. A feeling of anger here and there, but nothing else. She remembered he was a teenage delinquent, a known troublemaker in high school. He had a different father, though, that she remembered. A demon, unlike Beau¡¯s father who only was a cambion, she thought. Something made itself known in the back of her mind, but she couldn¡¯t grasp it. Did I know his father?


    ¡°Where is his father, then?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Somewhere. He doesn¡¯t care about me, so I don¡¯t care about him.¡± Beau replied curtly.


    Ana rested her faced in her hands and thought. A spell or two for my memories. Risks? My father, and Beau¡¯s death. The last time they all died, it was so horrible that it was erased from my memory. I don¡¯t like Beau, but I can¡¯t have that again. I need to know the truth, however. These memories are all I want.


    She looked back up at Beau. ¡°A spell or two. Nothing else. We find your mother, and you tell me what happened. We part ways, and I don¡¯t see you ever again.¡±


    Beau seemed to hesitate, as if her answer displeased him. He looked uncertain, his gaze flicking around the floor while he searched for an answer.


    ¡°Well?¡± Ana pushed.


    ¡°Yes. I agree.¡±


    Ana nodded. ¡°I need time to look through my grimoire, see what the spell requires. I assume it would be safer doing it here?¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°No¡ªno. Your father put up spellwork around the borders of town. I can get past it, but it will be harder for you.¡±


    ¡°So¡­in my house?¡±


    He nodded. Ana sighed.


    ¡°Fine. When?¡±


    He opened his mouth, but hesitated. ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­I¡¯m not sure when you have free time.¡±


    She rubbed the side of her head, trying her best not to spit out a remark about his unpreparedness. ¡°I work Monday through Friday as a cashier, but I¡¯m off by six. We can do it then, or during the weekends. My father usually comes by weekly, but his visits have been sporadic since you arrived. If he comes¡ª¡±


    ¡°I will know.¡± He quickly replied. ¡°Tonight? Can we do it tonight?¡±


    He seems anxious to get me out of here. She looked out the window. It was still morning. She had left early after only getting an hour of sleep, too anxious to wait for a more reasonable time to come. She had more than enough time to clean and find the book before Beau arrived.


    ¡°Yes. Fine.¡± She stood and made her way to the door. She placed her hand on the handle and was about to open it, but then stopped. She turned back to Beau. ¡°If my father finds you, I will deny ever meeting with you. I won¡¯t help you.¡±


    He looked away from her, gloved fingers pressing into his upper arm. ¡°I understand.¡±


    With that final understanding, she left.


    ¡ª_¡ª


    Her house hadn¡¯t been cleaned in awhile. Dusted covered shelves and tables, old letters and newspapers were left unread on the coffee table, and the curtains were scratched from Jazzy¡¯s curtain-climbing obsession some months ago. Other than that, everything looked tidy. She didn¡¯t care much for having a clean house for a guest she¡¯d rather not have, but her dad always told her a clean house was a happy house, and that motto still repeats in her mind to this day.


    She cleaned what she could, except for the scratched curtains. She didn¡¯t have any extras, which meant another trip to the store when she had the chance. Deacon had called her in the middle of her cleaning session, but he was left ignored. She didn¡¯t have the time nor the patience for his drivel. After a few minutes of silence and scrubbing the kitchen counter, he sent her a text message. That was also ignored.


    Now that the cleaning was done, she had to look for the grimoire. She never used it, only using mageia when Marchosias made her. It was on the top shelf in the hallway closet, collecting dust and bookworms. She pulled the heavy tome down and brushed it off. It the yellowed, ancient pages were bound in leather, with old Nordic runs engraved on the front. Marchosias had given it to her on her eighteenth birthday¡ªwell, give was an overstatement. He dropped it onto her coffee table and left without another word. The words ¡®happy birthday¡¯ seemed to not be in his vocabulary.


    The grimoire was specifically his, all the spells and incantations contained inside Ana would be able to use, although she never did. She hated mageia, and never got the hang of it.


    She set the grimoire down on the coffee table. The sun was setting, which meant Beau would be here soon. All she had to do was wait, but she was too antsy. Instead, she sat down and started flipping through the ancient book. She had only gone through it once or twice in the years she has had it, finding most of the spells to be either mundane or uninteresting. The book was originally in Proto-Norse runes, the language that Marchosias first spoke. He had translated the whole book into English at some point, although it was an older version of English that Ana could barely understand. She flipped the leathery pages until she got to the location and tracking spells section. She perused the pages until she found an easy spell that only required a physical connection to the person they wanted to locate. Beau¡¯s blood should work, and if this spell didn¡¯t work there were a few more they could try. They, however, required more power and connections to the person they were trying to find. Ana had assumed Beau¡¯s blood would be enough for most of the spells, but she was wrong. Blood of the family was a weaker ingredient than blood of the actual person they were trying to find, but that was impossible for either of them to get. Memories, however, were a valuable ingredient. Ana didn¡¯t feel enthusiastic about searching Beau¡¯s memories just for a spell, so she decided to leave that one for last.


    A knock sounded on the door, and Ana jumped. She set the book down on the coffee table and walked into the hallway. She couldn¡¯t see anything from the glass window, but she assumed it was Beau on time for their meeting.


    She opened the door, but was greeted by nobody. She looked to the left and right of the door, but there was nobody waiting. Had my anxiety made me imagine the knocking, or is this some kind of trick?


    She shut the door and stormed back into the living room. Nerves, that¡¯s all it is.


    She went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. She took out a can of beer and shut the fridge. Her thumb went under the tab to pull it open as she turned around. Her thumb stopped midway when she noticed a man standing in her living room through the breakfast bar, and her blood turned to ice.


    He was a lanky thing, all skin and bones much like her, but that¡¯s where the similarities stopped. His dark brown hair was shaved close to his scalp, and his wrinkled clothes hung loosely on his frame. His bright green eyes studied her living room, his button nose twitching as if in disgust. Finally, his green eyes turned to her and she felt a small burst of recognition in her head. Somewhere, in the murky waters of her memory, she knew who he was.


    Ana, a younger Ana, held a newspaper in her hands. They shook as she read the headline over and over again, turning it around in her mind until it was all she could think about. All she saw. KILLER OF TEEN GIRL STILL AT LARGE.


    He wasn¡¯t at large. He was across the street, having dinner with the family who knew what he had done, but buried his secret with the rest of theirs. She knew it was him, but nobody would do anything. Oh, Ophelia. Ana craved to hold her freckled face again, but Judas Motloe had taken that away from her. Judas Motloe was nothing but a liar, and a bastard.


    The beer can dropped from her hands and burst open on the tile, soaking Ana¡¯s shoes and the surrounding floor.


    ¡°You know,¡± He started, chewing on a piece of bubblegum. His grating voice hadn¡¯t changed in six years. ¡°My expectations for your interior were low, but this¡­this is cozy.¡±


    Ana was only still for a moment before she grabbed a plastic cup and threw it at him. He dodged, ducking his head before looking back at her. ¡°Is that any way to treat a guest?¡±


    ¡°A guest¡ª¡± She grabbed a spoon and threw it at him. He dodged again. ¡°You¡¯re not a guest! Get out of my house!¡±


    Footsteps from outside rushed through the front door and into the living room. Beau appeared, looking alarmed at Judas¡¯ appearance. He didn¡¯t know, then. His gaze turned to Ana, who held a spatula in her hands, ready to throw at Judas. He vanished in a cloud of mist and reappeared next to Ana. She flinched and moved away from him, the spatula dropping from her hands and clattering to the floor.


    Beau raised his hands in a silent plea. ¡°Let¡¯s just all calm down¡ª¡±


    ¡°Calm?! A murderer is in my god damn house and you want me to be calm?¡± Ana exclaimed, pointing towards Judas, who looked at both of them with a casual smirk.


    ¡°I¡ªI didn¡¯t know he would still be here. I¡¯m sorry¡ª¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want your sorry,¡± Ana spat. ¡°I want him out of my house before your father shows up too!¡±


    Beau quickly shook his head. ¡°He¡¯s dead, Ana. I promise you that.¡±


    Ana stared at him, and he stared back. Liar, she thought. He has to be lying.


    A sudden pop made them both jump. She whipped around to Judas, but it was just his gum. He laughed at both of their reactions.


    ¡°Judas, get out.¡± Beau said sternly.


    Judas turned to him, offended. ¡°What? You can be here, and I can¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°I was invited, and you weren¡¯t.¡±


    Judas scowled. ¡°I knocked, and she answered!¡±


    ¡°Out!¡± Beau raised his voice, or at least tried to. His damaged vocal cords stopped him from being any louder than normal.


    Judas glared at Beau before turning his gaze to Ana. ¡°You¡¯re still not upset over what I did, hmm? How sensitive. Holding a grudge over something so small.¡±


    ¡°You¡ª¡± Ana reached for the knife rack and pulled out a serrated knife. She pulled her arm back and aimed it at him just before Beau grabbed her other arm. Her whole body seized at the sudden contact, and she instead pointed the knife at him. His eyes grew wide and he flinched, letting go of her and stepping away. She turned back to Judas and aimed the knife again.


    He laughed, a wide grin on his face. ¡°Go ahead! Throw it at me. You were always too much of a coward to do anything.¡± He pushed his shoulders back and splayed his hands. ¡°I promise I won¡¯t dodge, maybe you¡¯ll hit me this time.¡±


    She braced herself to throw the knife, but didn¡¯t do it. It was a tempting proposition, but actually carrying it out was harder than she thought. She wanted nothing more than to see him suffer, but the thought of blood and death made her hesitate. Death was never an easy thing for her, if both the aftermaths of Ophelia and her dad¡¯s death didn¡¯t make that any more obvious.


    Before she could make a decision, Beau walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. He approached Judas and went to grab his arm, but his younger brother snatched it away and took a few steps back.


    ¡°Alright, I get it. You want to have your private session with her, alone.¡± He made his way into the hallway, casting one last glance to Ana before leaving.


    Ana lowered the knife to her side and let out a deep breath. She stared down at the tiles, now soaked with beer. The thought of summoning Marchosias again came back to her, and she actually considered it. Beau didn¡¯t seem to be a threat, just a bumbling fool risking his life just for a spell from her. Judas, however, was the reason they were all here. She knew he was.


    Beau walked back into the kitchen, looking down at the mess on the floor. He looked at Ana, at the knife in her hand and the furious look in her eye. ¡°Are you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Keep him away. If I see him near my house again, this deal is off and I¡¯ll tell my father where you¡¯re staying.¡± Ana said in a strained voice. She hadn¡¯t let go of the knife yet, and she didn¡¯t know if she wanted to. She felt safer with it in her hand, despite not being in any danger.


    ¡°I thought he was out of town. He must¡¯ve come back. I¡¯m sorry¡ª¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡± Ana raised her voice, looking up at Beau. ¡°I don¡¯t want to here it. Keep him away from me.¡±


    He slowly nodded his head and looked away. ¡°We¡¯ll¡ªwe¡¯ll try the spell tomorrow. I think Judas got both of our nerves shaken up.¡±


    ¡°Fine. Leave me be.¡± Ana murmured.


    He stood there for a few moments before turning to leave. She heard his footsteps carry him to the hallway, and then outside. When he shut the door, Ana finally dropped the knife and sank to the ground. She buried her face in her hands, ignoring the feeling of beer soaking into her jeans.


    She felt like crying, but the tears didn¡¯t come. It was a hassle, anyways. She always looked ugly when she cried, and it made her eyes puffy and red even hours after crying. Her dad always told her that crying wasn¡¯t a weakness, only an expression of emotions like sorrow, pain, or even anger. She never felt guilty for crying, only annoyed at the outcome of it. Marchosias however, the one who always wore a stone cold expression, believed crying was like showing your enemy your soft belly. She had cried in front of him once, and never did it again.


    She hated Judas for the way he turned her emotions upside down. She thought she had everything under control, but then he came and punched a whole in her heart and her memories. Oh, Ophelia. She thought. I couldn¡¯t protect you from him. How am I going to protect myself from him now? How can I stay away from whatever death he has intended for me?


    I have failed you, and now I have failed myself.

 Chapter 7: Velleity

    Somebody was pounding on the door. Not like Judas¡¯ knock from yesterday, but more loud and demanding. Ana rose from the couch, rubbing her bleary eyes and trying to remember what happened last night.


    She had stayed on the couch after the brothers had left. She had planned on staying awake in case Judas tried to come back and harass her some more, but she must¡¯ve fallen asleep at some point. She was exhausted from the night before, when she only got an hour of sleep.


    The loud knocking started again, and she rose from the couch. ¡°Alright, I¡¯m coming! Fuck,¡± She walked into the hallway and yanked the door open.


    Deacon was on the other side, hand raised to knock again. He was dressed in an old band t-shirt and faded blue jeans. He looked as if he crawled out of bed and hadn¡¯t bothered to fix his appearance.


    He beamed a smile at her. ¡°You¡¯re still alive! Was your phone broke? You didn¡¯t respond to my messages or calls.¡±


    Ana ran a hand through her hair. ¡°I was busy yesterday, and then I fell asleep on the couch. What do you want?¡±


    He shrugged with that same stupid smile on his face. ¡°I thought to check in on ya. Is that a crime?¡±


    Ana sighed and rubbed her eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t know, Deacon. It¡¯s too early for you.¡±


    ¡°Well, it is actually¡­¡± He checked his watch. ¡°Two in the afternoon.¡±


    She shrugged. ¡°Whatever. You checked up on me. I¡¯m fine. Do you need anything else?¡±


    He considered her for a moment, tilting his head. Ana knew that look on his face. He was about to ask her something he knew she might not agree to.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t I make coffee for you?¡± He asked.


    Ana was silent for a moment, considering his question. I want him out of my hair as soon as possible, but I can¡¯t turn down coffee.


    She didn¡¯t say a word to him, but left the door open as she turned and walked away.


    ¡°So¡­that¡¯s a yes?¡± Deacon called out to her.


    ¡°I¡¯m taking a shower.¡±


    ¡ª_¡ª


    Ana walked down the stairs, a fresh set of clothes on and her wet hair tied into a dutch braid. Deacon was at the kitchen table, reading the newspapers she had forgot to throw away. A steaming cup of coffee was across from him. She took the cup of coffee and took a sip, wincing at the bitter taste.


    ¡°So, what had you so busy yesterday that you missed my calls?¡± Deacon asked as she went to the fridge and grabbed the carton of milk.


    ¡°I was cleaning, and then I had a friend visit.¡± She filled the coffee with milk, almost to the brim. ¡°I don¡¯t check my phone all the time. You¡¯re not my first priority, you know.¡±


    He fake-gasped. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m wounded! How will I ever recover from this heartbreak?¡± He clutched his heart, a shocked looked on his face. Ana rolled her eyes before dropping a few sugar cubes into her coffee.


    ¡°Charming.¡± She sipped her coffee.


    They sat in silence for a few minutes as Ana drank her coffee. Deacon read the newspaper, or at least seemed to be. His finger messed with the corner of the page as his eyes roved over the paper. He looked up at Ana when she was halfway done with her coffee.


    ¡°Got any plans for today?¡±


    The cup stopped close to her lips as she raised an eyebrow in suspicion. ¡°No¡­why?¡±


    ¡°We could go to the diner and eat. You haven¡¯t eaten anything yet, have you?¡±


    Ana didn¡¯t answer him at first, sipping her coffee as she thought. Lunch with Deacon means hearing him talk about himself for an hour¡­but it¡¯s also free food. Can¡¯t turn down a free burger at Motty¡¯s Diner.


    ¡°Motty¡¯s Dinner?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re paying?¡±


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Ana sighed. She downed the last of her coffee and wiped her mouth. ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡ª_¡ª


    Another bump, and Ana hit her head on the window for the third time. She grumbled and rubbed the side of her head. ¡°You could drive a little slower, you know.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going the speed limit, relax.¡± Deacon replied, one hand on the steering and the other hanging out the window.


    Ana rested her head on the headrest instead of the window. ¡°It¡¯s the bumps, not the speed.¡±


    He didn¡¯t reply, but continued driving the same speed as if to only annoy her more. The same man who asked her lunch was now annoying the hell out of her.


    Another bump, and she was again jostled in her seat. Something popped and hit her knees, and she looked down to see the glove box had been popped open.


    ¡°Ah, shit. It does that a lot. Just shut it closed.¡±


    Ana went to shut it, but something caught her eye. An envelope that didn¡¯t look like it carried the average bill or bank letter. It was an off-white color, with a broken yellow wax seal. She grabbed it and examined it, turning it over in her hand. It was addressed to Deacon, from somebody with the same last name as him, Carbonneau. On the center was a strange symbol, a circle with intricate lines and marks crisscrossing each other.


    ¡°What a fancy water bill,¡± Ana teased, waving the envelope in the air.


    Deacon glanced at the letter she was holding, returning his eyes to the road before snatching it out of her hand and stuffing it back in the glove box. He slammed it shut.


    ¡°Not a fancy water bill?¡± She pressed.


    He shrugged. ¡°Just a letter from my family. Just boring family stuff, you know?¡±


    ¡°It was opened. Who reads letter in their truck?¡± She crossed her arms and gave him an incredulous look.


    ¡°I have a PO box in town. I read them as soon as I get them. It¡¯s not that serious, Ana.¡± He turned the blinker on before turning into the diner parking lot. ¡°If I wanted somebody to nag me about my mail, I would¡¯ve gotten a wife.¡±


    She sighed and rolled her eyes, unbuckling her seat belt as he parked. ¡°Please do. I wouldn¡¯t have to deal with you anymore.¡±


    ¡ª_¡ª


    Ana¡¯s prediction was right. He did talk about himself the entire time. Ana had only said five words for the thirty minutes they were there. He talked about random things about his family, his travels, and bragged senselessly about his university days. He dropped out when he decided to travel across the United States instead, something Ana decided was a big mistake.


    After another humble-bragging story about a university frat party, Ana downed the last of her lemonade and rose from the booth. ¡°I¡¯m going to the bathroom.¡±


    ¡°But¡­I wasn¡¯t finished with my story, I was just getting to the good part!¡± Deacon whined as she walked by.


    ¡°Talk to yourself, then.¡±


    After her business was done in the restroom, she dried her hands and went to leave. As as she stepped outside, her phone began to ring in her pocket. She sighed and pulled it out, grumbling at the name on her screen. She accepted the call and held the phone to her ear. ¡°Hi, mom.¡±


    ¡°Ana! How are you?¡±


    She sat down at the bar, not wanting Deacon hear her talk with her mother. ¡°I¡¯m fine. I can¡¯t talk for long.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine, I just wanted to check up on you. I felt like something was off, so I decided to call you.¡± Her mother sounded distant on the phone, as if she wasn¡¯t really concentrated on the conversation.


    ¡°Oh. Well, I¡¯m fine. Have you spoken with father? Is that why you¡¯re concerned?¡±


    ¡°Oh, no. I haven¡¯t spoken to him. I just felt concerned. Call it my¡­maternal instincts.¡± She replied before yawning.


    ¡°Oh.¡± Ana leaned over in her seat to look at Deacon, who was still chowing down on his steak contently. ¡°I¡¯m just having lunch with some guy. Have you slept since you got off work? You sound tired.¡±


    ¡°Oh! What¡¯s his name? Am I ever going to meet him?¡± She ignored her question, and Ana sighed.


    ¡°Listen, momma. I have to go. I¡¯ll call you later, okay?¡± Ana murmured when Deacon turned around to look for her.


    Silence from the other end. Did I upset her?


    ¡°¡­Is it only a date, then? Maybe that¡¯s good. Your father wouldn¡¯t like anything more.¡±


    ¡°..Yeah.¡± Ana numbly replied as she got off the stool, Deacon¡¯s cold grey eyes still on her. ¡°I gotta go.¡±


    ¡°Alright, then. I love you, Ana-Girl.¡±


    Ana hung up the phone and returned to the booth. Deacon glanced at her as she passed him, taking a sip of his drink. ¡°Who was that?¡±


    ¡°My mother.¡± She sat down and popped a fry in her mouth.


    ¡°Oh. You can answer somebody else¡¯s calls, but not mine?¡± He asked. He said it in a playful manner, but underneath that joyful tone was a hint of an accusation.


    ¡°It¡¯s my mother. Don¡¯t act jealous.¡± Ana bit back before eating the last of her burger. ¡°It makes you look ugly.¡±


    ¡°I was just joking!¡± He beamed one of his annoying smiles at her, but she did not return it.


    ¡ª_¡ª


    The truck was silent on their way back to Ana¡¯s house. Not even the radio was on, which was unnatural considering Deacon¡¯s habit of having background music on at all times.


    Deacon had pestered Ana to come back to his home and spend the rest of the day there, where they could watch movies and order takeout for dinner. Ana declined, saying she had plants and a pet to take care of. He had insisted, to which she said he could either take her home like a gentlemen or she could find another way home. He settled for taking her home, but he was now giving her the silent treatment. She was content with that, at least.


    She thought about the letters in the glove box again. She knew little of his rich and prestigious family, despite his numerous stories about his rambunctious childhood and wild teenage years he never actually said what they did for a living, only that they were scientists. Now that she thought of it, what kind of American scientists had a family crest that they put on letters sent to their own son? She could look, just for a moment. Just to satisfy her curiosity.


    While Deacon was making a left turn and had his head turned away from her, she pulled open the glove box and took the envelope that was on top of the others. She pulled out the letter and started reading.


    Deacon Carbonneau,


    In regards to your occupation as¡ª


    The letter and envelope were ripped out of her hands and stuffed back into the glove box. The lid was slammed closed and Deacon¡¯s hand returned to the steering wheel. ¡°You¡¯ve been quite nosy lately.¡±


    She crossed my arms and looked away. ¡°Only curious. Your family concerned about you having a part-time job as a small town grocery store employee?¡±


    He was silent as he drove down the long, dark road to her house. After a tense minute, he cleared his throat. ¡°It¡¯s just boring family stuff, is all. They want me to¡­hurry my career goal.¡±


    ¡°Of what? Becoming a store manager?¡± She glanced at him.


    He smirked slightly, eyes still on the road. ¡°Something like that.¡±


    He turned into her driveway and Ana unbuckled her seat belt as he pulled up to her house. The bright lights of the truck shone on the front of the house, and the patio was empty. Usually, Jazzy would be sitting next to the door and waiting for her to let her in for dinner. It was unusual for her to be absent during this time of the evening.


    The truck stopped and Ana put her hand on the handle just before a hand grabbed her chin and roughly turned it towards Deacon. Their faces were nose-to-nose, and Ana formed her hand into a fist, ready to knock his teeth out if he tried anything. He didn¡¯t fortunately, and instead looked her up and down and smiled.


    ¡°You let me spend the night, and I¡¯ll tell you all about my family.¡± He whispered, in the kind of voice only men have when they want to swoon a women. It never worked on Ana. It always made him sound like a jerky frat boy, a title that fit him so well. It was almost tempting, as she was curious about his family but not enough to sleep with him. That thought made her skin crawl.


    She moved her chin out of his hands and pushed the door open. ¡°I think I have better things to do. Maybe next time, Deacon.¡±


    She hopped out of the seat and slammed the door shut. Deacon hadn¡¯t said a single word to her, and she didn¡¯t wait for an answer. She stormed up the steps of her porch as he reversed his truck. She unlocked the door and entered, slamming it shut behind her. As his bright truck lights eventually faded away and left her in the dark but comforting abode, she sighed and rested her back on the door. She starting to become tired of him. Maybe a few weeks ago she would¡¯ve accepted his proposition, but the past week had left her feeling more stressed than ever.


    She dropped her purse near the door and stormed through the hallway, kicking off her shoes as she went. Jazzy was in the kitchen, sleeping on the counter, knowing full well she wasn¡¯t allowed on the marble surface. Ana let her be just for this night and instead opened the fridge. Her hand moved to grab a can of beer, but on second thought opened the freezer and grabbed the bottle of whiskey in the back. She left the kitchen without a cup, content to drink straight from the bottle for the rest of the night.

 Chapter 8: Vicinal

    A pounding headache invited Ana to awaken from her comfortable slumber. She groaned, and pulled the heavy blanket over her head. After some considerably slow thinking and sluggish awareness of her surroundings that were starting to come back to her, she realized she was on the couch. She didn¡¯t remember falling asleep here¡­for the second time.


    She pulled the quilt off and blinked open her eyes. She winced as the morning light hit her sensitive eyes and she looked away, holding her pounding head in her hands. I drank last night, but that¡¯s all I can remember. When did I pass out?


    She opened her eyes and looked at the coffee table. The bottle of whiskey was gone, along with the beer cans she vaguely remembered grabbing from the fridge when the whiskey was almost gone. The coffee table was spotless, free of any evidence of her binge-drinking last night, but she didn¡¯t know how that could be.


    A sudden wave of nausea rushed over her, and she felt her mouth water. She quickly rose from the couch and into the hallway. You know what? I¡¯ll figure that out later.


    After puking her guts out into the toilet and taking two aspirins, she went back into the living room and looked around. The whiskey and beer had been returned to the fridge, and there didn¡¯t seem to be any signs of spills on the floor. Drunk Ana would have barely been able to walk straight and not cause a mess, which meant someone came in here and cleaned up her mess before putting the quilt over her. Her first thought was Deacon, which made her anxious to think about. Marchosias was also a possible answer, but he wouldn¡¯t have done any of those things. The last time he saw her drunk was after her human dad¡¯s funeral, and he had told her to drink more so he would be rid of her. That was a night she never wanted to revisit.


    She went into the kitchen and grabbed an empty glass. As she filled it with water, her eye caught a note sitting close to the coffee maker. She turned the faucet off and picked up the note. The handwriting was neat, and made with a pen.


    Come to my motel room when you can.


    -B


    It had been Beau. Ah, dammit! She slapped her forehead, a feeling of shame coming over her. I forgot about our meeting! Deacon had pissed me off and I got distracted.


    He must¡¯ve come at some point in the night and seen her passed out. The thought of him in her house made her uncomfortable, but not as bad as the thought of Deacon being there.


    She crumpled the note and threw it in the trash. She will go to him, but for now¡­some thinking.


    ¡ª_¡ª


    The arrival of Judas had shaken her up, and made this entire deal more risky. Beau was predictable. He was like an open book, he was always like that even in high school. Judas, however, was a snake. Ana didn¡¯t trust him and she never has. The earliest memory she had of him was hearing about how he pushed the high school quarterback off the bleachers and somehow got away with it. If he was going to be around, she had to re-consider this entire agreement.


    She walked past her garden and into the pine forest. Beyond the line of trees was another clearing, but this time there were no plants. Instead, there were marble statues scattered all around. They were a motley crew, all depicting something different. A woman holding a bunny, a man made of different body parts that were all mismatched and uneven, a Roman warrior holding a shield and spear. There was one of her mother that had her exact likeness, wearing a ancient Greek dress and smiling down at whoever stood in front of her. They were all different, but they all had the same origin; they were made by Ana¡¯s dad. Alex Kravens.


    They were his creations, his life¡¯s work. He loved sculpting and making statues out of any material he could find. Ana envied his talent for creating art out of stone and clay, and always knew she could never surmount to his level of skill.


    She walked past the statues until she got to a slate gravestone. Dead flowers were placed in front of it, and she picked them up and threw them to the side. she brushed stray leaves and sticks away, and placed fresh flowers down. On the gravestone were the words ¡®ALEX M. KRAVENS. IN LOVING MEMORY¡¯


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I haven¡¯t visited lately.¡± Ana knelt. ¡°I¡¯ve been having¡­problems.¡±


    She looked at the dark gray gravestone, all harsh lines and sharp corners. Nothing like how her dad really was. Her demonic father fit this grave better. The thought of him six feet in the ground instead of her dad didn¡¯t disturb her very much. She wished for it, almost.


    ¡°Some¡­people I thought were dead have come back. One of them asked me for help.¡± She rubbed her nose as she thought. ¡°The other¡­he killed Ophelia. You remember Ophelia? I showed you a picture of her once.¡±


    The birds above her chirped away as she thought. ¡°What would you have done in my shoes? I can¡¯t remember anything from that night. Both of those brothers being alive is proof that I¡¯ve been lied to, isn¡¯t it? The only right thing to do is recover my memories, or at least I believe it is.¡±


    Her dad was a good man. Always lending a helping hand to the less fortunate. Half the town had came to his funeral, so many I¡¯m sorry and you have my condolences to Ana that she couldn¡¯t wait for them to leave so she could get drunk and forget it all. She wasn¡¯t like him, but she could at least try to be. She could help Beau, learn what happened and carry on with her life.


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    ¡°You would do the same, wouldn¡¯t you dad?¡± She whispered, her voice so low that even she could barely hear herself.


    Her dad would help no matter the risks, and so would she.


    ¡ª_¡ª


    Ana knocked on the motel door, other hand anxiously messing with the hem of her crop top. The faded door creaked opened and Beau let Ana inside. She walked in and dropped the heavy grimoire onto the closest bed, along with the bookbag of supplies she brought with her. ¡°I forgot last night. I got distracted.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Beau quickly replied, which Ana found strange. It was their second time postponing the meeting, would he have at least been a little disappointed in her? He seemed nervous, but no anger was obvious in his face or posture. He didn¡¯t make any mention of visiting last night or the note he left, either.


    She turned back to the book and supplies. ¡°I found a location spell that should work, or give us a basic idea of where she is. Your blood isn¡¯t much to go off of, mind you.¡±


    Beau move to the table up against the wall opposite of the beds and sat down. ¡°That¡¯s fine. I¡¯m aware of the lengths you¡¯re going to do this for us.¡±


    Her jaw clenched as she flipped through the pages. ¡°Is Judas around?¡±


    ¡°No¡­he left early this morning and hasn¡¯t come back. Didn¡¯t say where he was going.¡± Beau replied.


    The beds were both neat and clean unlike the last time she was there. A nightstand sat in between the two beds, with a pocket knife and a multitude of rings on the side of the bed she placed her belongings on, marking which bed was Judas¡¯. She picked up the bookbag and grimoire before moving to the floor, feeling slightly disgusted.


    She prepared the area for the spell. She laid a wide and thin stone slab down on top of a white linen cloth. White pillar candles were placed on all four corners and a stick of incense burning to her left. She drew Marchosias¡¯ sigil in the middle of the stone slab, as a sort of ¡®root of power¡¯. She hated using mageia, and so never learned how to cast spells without taking all these precautions. She felt like a human trying to perform their first magic trick, but for this spell to be perfect on the first try she had to go by the book.


    She took a small bowl out of her bag and placed it in the middle of the sigil. ¡°Blood, if you will.¡± She handed a razor blade to Beau and he took it in his gloved hands. He sat across from her, legs under him and his hands still gloved. He hesitated before rolling up his sleeve and pressing the blade to his leathery skin. A trickle of blood started, dripping into the wooden bowl as Ana watched. When there was enough blood, he rolled his sleeve back up and placed the blade to the side.


    Ana lit the candles and grabbed one more thing from the bag. A small capsule filled with a clear liquid. She held it over the bowl and squeezed it, flinching as the fragile capsule broke and filled the air with the scent of smoke and fresh pine. Beau winced and moved his head away, appearing uncomfortable with the smell. Ana didn¡¯t like the smell either, but she hid her discomfort.


    She looked down at the book in her lap, and read the next instructions. She sighed, and placed her elbows on her knees and faced her palms to the ceiling. ¡°Hands.¡±


    Beau stalled for a moment before raising his hands to place in hers, but she snatched them away at the last moment. ¡°Without the gloves. It has to be skin-to-skin.¡±


    He looked up at her, confused. ¡°The book says that?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s in Old English, but yes. It makes it clear.¡± She made grabbing motions with her hands. ¡°Gloves off. Just until the spell is done.¡±


    He seemed to consider their entire deal as Ana waited for him to make a decision. He seemed to be self-conscious about his skin, seeing as he was always covered in long-sleeves, jeans, and gloves despite the Mississippi summer heat. Unfortunately, the spell could falter if they didn¡¯t get everything right. Ana didn¡¯t feel like doing everything over again just because Beau was insecure.


    He hesitated, but finally took the gloves off. Ana tried not to look, but they were too distracting not to. His hands were just as marred and disfigured as the rest of his body, with most of his fingers missing nails. On his right hand, his last three fingers seemed permanently bent, as if the skin had been stretched and pulled taut. He seemed to be missing half of his pinky and ring finger on his left hand, something Ana hadn¡¯t noticed before because of the gloves. The whole site was ghastly and alarming to look at, but some part of her felt a great feeling of sorrow. But why? She avoided his gaze and the uncomfortable feeling of his hands on hers by looking down at the book. Why do I feel this way?


    ¡°Your mother¡¯s full name and maiden name?¡± Ana murmured. She felt his hands twitch in hers.


    ¡°Emily Ann Motloe¡­and Laskin, I believe.¡±


    She started reading the incantations within the book, concentrating on the words of power and how they flowed through her. ¡°By the power bestowed upon me as Marchosias¡¯ kin, I beseech thee and ask for a favor. I request a vision, and insight into the whereabouts of one Emily Ann Laskin-Motloe. We offer the blood of her son, tell us where she is and my blood is also yours to take¡ª¡±


    Ana gasped as a surge of mageia flowed through her chest like a broken damn. She squeezed her eyes shut, but that did not save her from the feeling and vague images that splattered her mind. A barrier, trapped, stuck, confined. Forest, oak, river, fish, child.


    The mageia left her just as fast and sudden as it came, and she released her breath, her chest now heaving. She opened her eyes just as Beau took his hands out of hers and hastily returned to his spot at the table. He seemed lost in thought, his leg bouncing under the table.


    ¡°That was a little vague.¡± Ana murmured.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Was the only reply she got from him.


    ¡°There was a child¡ª¡±


    ¡°I saw.¡±


    ¡°Why was there a child?¡ª¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± His voice raised on the last word, seeming frustrated. He took note of his tone and sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I don¡¯t like the feel or smell of your magic. It reminds me of your father, it has nothing to do with you.¡±


    Ana sat there, not knowing what to say. It reminded her of Marchosias too. She understood him for once.


    She watched as he put the gloves back on, but he did not look at her. ¡°I have a¡­guess on where she is. The barrier confuses me, however. The last time I was there, they didn¡¯t have such powerful barriers.¡±


    ¡°Where? What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°The Creed of Solomon.¡± He replied. Ana gave him a confused look. He sighed. ¡°Creed of Solomon? Nerve-Tec? Human magicians?¡±


    She slowly shook her head. ¡°No. I have never heard of that.¡±


    He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. ¡°Your father didn¡¯t tell you any of this, did he? He didn¡¯t tell you about the greatest threat to a modern-day cambion?¡±


    She crossed her arms. ¡°Start talking sense or I¡¯m leaving.¡±


    ¡°Okay, they¡¯re¡ªthey¡¯re a group¡ªan organization of human magicians who borrow the power of demons for their own goals. They are very big and powerful, and they¡¯re not just in America. Most of these days they work as scientists or politicians, and¡­.that¡¯s how Judas and I survived. We were taken to them.¡±


    She drew her eyebrows together. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. Why wouldn¡¯t my father tell me about this?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± He shrugged. ¡°He knows of them, I¡¯m sure. They¡¯ve been around for a few thousand years.¡±


    Ana sighed and rubbed her eyes. ¡°Fucking wonderful. More bullshit he hasn¡¯t told me. Why haven¡¯t they found me yet, if they¡¯re so big and powerful?¡±


    He clasped his hands together. ¡°They sort of¡­know of you? They know about your father, and by association they know he has one cambion child, which is you.¡±


    She slowly shook her head as she thought. This doesn¡¯t seem all true. If they¡¯re such powerful magicians who know about me, why don¡¯t they use mageia to find me? To do whatever they want? Is my father stopping them¡ªwait. She looked back up at Beau. How did he find me with no trouble?


    ¡°How did you find me?¡± She asked.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°How did you find me? You didn¡¯t seem to have no trouble locating me. If you¡¯re so bad at location spells.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡­¡± He rubbed the back of his head and avoided her suspicious glare.


    They both heard the click of the door unlocking and being pushed open. Ana didn¡¯t need to turn around to know who it was. All she had to do was look at Beau¡¯s pale face and know his brother had just come back. She gathered her belongings as she grinded her teeth together.¡°Cool tramp stamp. When did you get that?¡± Judas said from behind her. A cold feeling ran down her spine as she stuffed her things into her book bag, grabbed her grimoire, and stood. She faced Judas, purple eyes glaring into his own.

 Chapter 9: Maelstrom

    The room fell to silence as Judas shut the door behind him, a dull hum appearing seemingly from nowhere, like an old TV being left on in a quiet room. Beau looked surprised to see him there at first before he nervously glanced at Ana. Judas smiled and gestured to the room.


    ¡°Leaving so soon? I just got here, and it looked like you two were in the middle of a spell.¡± He commented, his eyes glancing down to her bookbag.


    Ana hadn¡¯t bothered to clean Beau¡¯s blood from the bowl, and it now leaked from the corner of her bag. She didn¡¯t reply to him, and that seemed to bother him. She glanced down and realized she had forgotten about the stone slab, and bent down to quickly retrieve it. Judas set his foot down on it, preventing her from taking it.


    ¡°Tell, me something, Ana¡ª¡± He bent his knees until he was eye level with her. ¡°What has your daddy told you about that night in the basement, hm?¡±


    ¡°Judas, stop.¡± Beau warned.


    The younger brother raised a pale hand in the air. ¡°Wait a moment. Hasn¡¯t your little deal been complete? You know where mommy is now.¡±


    Was it complete? Beau and Ana exchanged looks. The answer they received from the spell was incredibly vague at best, and they only had a small theory about her whereabouts but it was nothing to go off of.


    Ana stood, ripping the slab out from under his foot and stuffing it into her bag. ¡°I¡¯ll look for more spells tonight. Maybe I misread the one we used.¡±


    Beau nodded, but Judas didn¡¯t seem satisfied. He appeared annoyed with her answer, as if it wasn¡¯t the one he was looking for. He drew his mouth into a thin line and narrowed his eyes at her.


    ¡°All this time, and you¡¯ve never questioned once what your father has said? But suddenly Beau appears and you actually think for once,¡± He murmurs.


    Ana pulled her shoulders back. ¡°I don¡¯t need to explain my reasoning to you.¡±


    She made a move to the door, but he quickly blocked her way. He was an inch shorter than her, only a slight improvement from when they were in high school. Ana looked down at him, glaring at his peridot eyes.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why you don¡¯t have any memory of what happened, but it seems awfully convenient, doesn¡¯t it? No memory, so it¡¯s easy to blame us for what happened. Why don¡¯t I just say it right here and now who caused all that pain and trouble?¡± Judas murmured.


    Ana leaned in. ¡°I have nightmares of somebody chasing me through the woods. A dark monster, set on dragging me into the ground, into that basement. You tell me whose fault it is, hm?¡±


    Judas laughed. She wasn¡¯t expecting him to laugh. She was expecting him to shut up and get away from her, but he didn¡¯t.


    ¡°Maybe you should lay off the binge-drinking, hm? Too much whiskey at night?¡± He replied, smiling.


    Ana searched his eyes, confused. How did he¡­? She looked over at Beau, who quickly glanced away from her with an ashamed look. Bastard.


    She pushed past Judas and went to the door. She pulled the handle open, but Judas slammed it shut with his hand, trapping her inside. Her heart started to beat faster and she felt her hands quiver with anxiety. Trapped. I can¡¯t be trapped again with the Motloes. Not again.


    ¡°The entire time Beau and I have been healing from our injuries that your father inflicted on us, you have been living a normal life without any care for what happened. Not a single scratch on you while we suffered for six damn years. You¡¯re a coward, Ana Kravens. Always have been. Can¡¯t stop being afraid of your father for one second to see the pile of lies he has built his throne on.¡± Judas seethed, his green eyes twinkling with gold and blue flecks in the morning light.


    ¡°Let me out! I don¡¯t give a shit about what you say!¡± Ana raged, trying her best to control her breathing while still trying to hide her fear. Her hands balled into fists at her side, her shoulder pushed up against the wall to get as far away from Judas while still being close to the door. She suddenly felt cold, the only warmth she could feel was from the morning light hitting the back of her neck, a painful reminder that she was in a confined space with her least favorite people in the world. It¡¯s going to happen again. You¡¯re an idiot. Idiot!


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    ¡°Judas, that¡¯s enough¡ª¡± Beau was close to them now. He tried to grab Judas¡¯ arm to pull him away but Judas smacked his hand. The close proximity to them only made her feel worse and constricted her breathing. She grinded her teeth together as she tried her best to control her breathing. The strange hum was beginning to grow more intense, and Ana was starting to believe she was imagining it amidst her panic.


    Control yourself. Just breathe, she told herself. She took a deep breath in, and then out before looking at Judas, who was arguing with Beau. How to hurt him? She thought. What¡¯s the best way to pierce through that rotten heart of his? What has been eating away at him all these years?


    ¡°You ever wonder if you¡¯ve ever taken things too far?¡± She murmured, her voice shaky but confident. He stared at her now, his argument with Beau forgotten. ¡°I mean, at some point you must¡¯ve thought if you hadn¡¯t murdered Ophelia, we wouldn¡¯t be here. Don¡¯t you ever think about that?¡±


    He was silent now. Good. That¡¯s how Ana wanted him in the first place. No filthy words coming out of his mouth. He stared at her, as if trying desperately to think of a sly comeback to win an upper-hand, but he couldn¡¯t. He was lost for words because he knew she was right. Eventually, he moved his hand away from the door and let Beau pull him away from her.


    She wretched the door open and exited the suffocating room. She slammed it shut behind her and walked to the rusty iron rails. She swallowed lungfuls of air, trying to calm her beating heart that kept on telling her that she was in danger. I¡¯m fine, she thought. There¡¯s nothing wrong. I¡¯m safe.


    She hated Judas for cornering her like that, and she hated Beau for letting him stay in the same room as him. She hated him even more for telling Judas about her binge-drinking. What was the point of Judas being here? His only mission seemed to be to antagonize Ana as much as possible. She made Beau promise that he wouldn¡¯t be near her while they worked on the spells, but she knew there was no guarantee of how long he would be away from the motel room. He wasn¡¯t to blame for Judas suddenly appearing at the worst time.


    She sighed. No use lurking outside their room. With the book bag over her shoulder and the grimoire clutched to her chest, she headed toward the stairway to leave the dingy motel.


    ¡ª_¡ª


    The drive home was torturous. She tried her best to not have an anxiety attack in the motel room, but that effort now left her feeling drained of any energy. She hadn¡¯t had one that bad in a good year or two, and she knew if she told somebody like her mom or Logan, they would insist on her seeing her therapist again, but she didn¡¯t have time for that. The deal with Beau was still unfinished, and she started her new job as a cashier on Monday. She was now regretting her decision to take that job.


    Despite never admitting it out loud, Judas had given her an inkling. She knew Marchosias was lying, but how much had he lied about? Were there lies even before the incident? He was an unreadable man, which meant she would get no answers from him. The next best answer would be to call her mother, but she had already called her a few days ago, and if she called her again she might run the risk of her telling Marchosias that she was digging. Not out of malicious intent, but out of concern for her mental well-being. Ana didn¡¯t need him suspicious right now. She was lucky enough that he was a neglectful father instead of a protective one. Although, her mother did sound quite vague the last she had asked the questions, but could¡¯ve just been because it was during her night shift and she was tired already. If she called her again, perhaps she could get more answers.


    As she turned into the long road that lead to her home, she decided to call her mother. If she told Marchosias that she was asking about the Motloes, then that was a risk she was willing to take. She had to pry her mother¡¯s brain for answers again.


    She dialed her mom as she kept her eyes on the road, the trees hugging a little too close to the road for comfort. This road was always hell to use in the winter.


    ¡°Ana-Girl!¡±


    ¡°Hey momma.¡±


    ¡°How are you doing? Sorry, I just woke up. Haven¡¯t had my coffee yet, but¡ªoh! You were going to tell me about that date you had yesterday. How did it go? Is there another date being planned?¡± Her mother¡¯s voice sounded excited, but Ana did not share her excitement. She thought about last night, how Deacon had grabbed her chin and tried to convince her to let him in. She winced, and instead focused her eyes on the road instead of her own thoughts.


    ¡°No, ah¡­.there isn¡¯t going to be another one. He was a bust.¡± Ana replied.


    ¡°Oh¡­that¡¯s a shame. Oh well.¡± Her mother was audibly disappointed in the revelation, and Ana felt bad. Ana never had a real partner after Ophelia¡¯s death, and her going on this date must¡¯ve been a sign to her mother that she was doing better. She shook the feeling off, and opened her mouth to ask the question she had called her for.


    ¡°Can you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s for the best, you know? Seeing as how your father is¡­¡± Her mother murmured, sounding distant.


    ¡°I¡­yes.¡± Ana knew she was right. Marchosias didn¡¯t know about Deacon, and never will. If she was able, she wouldn¡¯t let him know of any partners she ever had. It was the reason why the concept of having her own family was a pure fantasy to her. She had a hard time imagining Marchosias as a father-in-law, let alone a grandfather.


    ¡°Momma,¡± She turned into her driveway, holding the phone with her shoulder pressed against her ear. ¡°Can you tell me anything else about that night? You were¡­a little vague last time.¡±


    ¡°¡­Have you been doing more thinking?¡±


    She winced. ¡°Maybe?¡±


    Her mother sighed. ¡°Ana, maybe it¡¯s best you ask your father about this.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± She slowed the vehicle until it stopped and shifted it into park. ¡°You know how cagey he is. He doesn¡¯t like answering questions, he acts like it¡¯s a chore.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡± Her mother shuffled the phone, and Ana heard a sink being turned on. ¡°It was late at night, and I thought you had gone to a friend¡¯s house, but I was wrong. I saw the cop cars and sirens across the street, so I went outside to see what was wrong. The Motloe house was on fire, and I didn¡¯t realize you were in there until your father pulled you out. He sent you to the hospital just before using his magic to make the cops and paramedics believe that they didn¡¯t see any of us there, but the news still was able to report it for a night before your father took it down. He checked the basement again before he took me to the hospital to see you and¡­¡± There was more shuffling, and possibly breathing in or muffled sobbing. Ana couldn¡¯t tell. ¡°That¡¯s it.¡±


    ¡°Momma¡­¡± This didn¡¯t make sense. Ana felt an intense headache come on, like the ones she had after the incident. ¡°Momma, why is this different from the last time¡ª¡±


    Sniffling, and a gasp of air, as if she was trying not to cry. ¡°I have to go, Ana-Girl. I love you lots, okay?¡±


    The call ended. Ana stared down at her phone, confused. Momma?

 Chapter 10: Standstill

    Her plants were still wilting, especially the American bittersweet. It¡¯s holes grew bigger, and the leaves have begun to curl. Ana still didn¡¯t know why. She used pesticides and watered it plenty. She hasn¡¯t seen any sign of any caterpillars or snails. What was the problem?


    It was an early Monday morning, and Ana was tending to her plants just before she goes to her first day of work. She hadn¡¯t seen hide or hair of the Motloe boys, which meant Beau was too ashamed of telling Judas about her drunken Thursday night to show his face around her, and Judas was being watched by Beau. The break from them both had been good for Ana, as her near-anxiety attack on Friday made her realize that she was putting too much stress on herself. Her weekend was spent relaxing, or as best as she could.


    The phone call with her mother a few days ago had left her feeling confused and worried. Her mother¡¯s behavior was unusual, and she felt as if there was something wrong with her. She had told a different story than the last one. Had something stopped her from speaking about it the first time?


    Ana surmised it was best to no longer speak about anything concerning the incident or Motloes to her mother. The topics seemed to make her more stressed than she already was.


    Ana didn¡¯t want to think about her mom possibly being sick, especially not now. Today was her first day of working at the local grocery store, and she¡¯ll be damned if she¡¯s late because of some worrying thoughts.


    ¡ª_¡ª


    Ana hated tight collars. They were always distracting and made her neck itch, no matter what. Alas, her boss insisted she wear the store¡¯s uniform like a proper adult. The blue cloth shirt fully buttoned, tucked in her ugly brown pants, and no sign of any wrinkles. Blue was never her color.


    Her job as cashier was simple, smile and greet customers, answer questions, and ring them up. That would¡¯ve been simpler, if not for the townspeople constantly asking her the same old questions about herself. How have you been doing since your dad died? Do you ever feel lonely in that big old house by herself? Why don¡¯t you come to church next Sunday?


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    Deacon wasn¡¯t there. to her boss¡¯ discontent. He hadn¡¯t even called in sick, he just didn¡¯t show up. Ana was secretly delighted by this fact, as it meant that she didn¡¯t have to deal with him on her first day. Although, it also meant she had to do his work in between ringing up customers. She had a job once when she was eighteen at another store, stocking shelves and sneaking cigarettes from her co-workers. It was the first time she had a job, just after her dad died and she started her cigarette addiction that she now is recovering from.


    She didn¡¯t get the cravings; those stressful days were over, but the old habits were still there. Patting her coat pocket for a smoke after getting out of her truck on cold winter days, exiting a nightclub after hours of dancing, stressful days when she makes the trip to Livernville to see her mother, and work breaks. Work breaks started it all, and she¡¯s trying desperately not to start that habit again with this new job. Not seeing Deacon today was a big stress reliever on that part.


    As she was stocking green beans on the bottom shelf of the canned food aisle, a man came into the aisle and started looking at the shelf behind her. She twisted around to grab another can of green beans from a cardboard box and out of the corner of her eye she saw the man. Shaved, head, baggy clothes¡ªJudas.


    Her heart skipped a beat and she fully twisted around to face the man, but no. It wasn¡¯t Judas. His back was to her, but from her spot on the ground she could tell his shoulders were too broad and his skin too tan to be Judas. It¡¯s not Judas, she tried to calm her beating heart. It¡¯s not Judas.


    When her shift finally ended at five, an old sedan pulled up in the parking lot. Ana ignored it at first as she walked to her truck, but the window was rolled down and a familiar face appeared.


    ¡°Look at you! A hard-working FoodyMart employee!¡± Logan beamed, her smile pearly-white.


    Logan was a very old friend of Ana¡¯s. She had grown up with her, had gone to each other¡¯s birthdays, sleepovers, and parties. They were inseparable during their school years, and Ana was saddened when she moved to Livernville when her dad got sick, but that meant they had video-called every day. They were two states away from each other but still talked as if nothing changed.


    Ana smiled and approached the car. ¡°Hey. What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°I remembered you started your new job today. I came by to see if you wanted to get some food afterwards. I see I¡¯ve caught you at the right time!¡± She replied.


    Ana nodded. ¡°I could go for that. I didn¡¯t eat anything during my break, and I¡¯m starving.¡±


    Logan leaned over and opened the door for Ana. ¡°I assume it went terribly? Deacon works here too, doesn¡¯t he?¡±


    Ana got into the car and closed the door. ¡°Wasn¡¯t so bad. Deacon wasn¡¯t here, actually. Playing hooky, it seems.¡± She buckled her seat belt and threw her purse in her backseat. ¡°How about we get takeout and go to my place, maybe watch a movie?¡±


    Logan smiled. ¡°Sounds like a plan, Kravens.¡±

 Chapter 11: Nepenthe

    ¡°¡ªNo wait, that¡¯s not even the best part¡ªhe tripped over a fire hydrant after giving me that stupid ass alcohol abstinence rant!¡±


    Ana keeled over laughing, somehow not spilling the beer in her hand. Logan joined her, the TV show forgotten by the both of them as Lory recounted her latest dating escapades.


    ¡°I think you have worse dating experiences than I do,¡± Ana breathed. She took a sip of her beer before setting it on the coffee table, which was already covered in food leftover from the boxes of takeout. They were both sitting on the couch, legs crossed and watching a crime show. Or at least trying to, anyway. They got distracted with random dating horror stories.


    Logan had a plate of food in her lap, goddess locs tied into a loose updo so as to not get in her face. She wore a dark green halter top that complimented her deep tawny skin and gold jewelry.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Logan shoved a spoonful of rice into her mouth. ¡°I¡¯m not sure anything can top Deacon. Are you still seeing him?¡±


    Ana shrugged. She had changed from her uncomfortable work clothes and into a tank top and sweat pants. ¡°Sort of. We went on a date last Thursday. Haven¡¯t seen him since.¡±


    Logan sighed. ¡°I wish you wouldn¡¯t. He¡¯s a major weirdo. His family being rich freaks me out. What is he doing staying in a town like this? I am happy that you got that job, though.¡±


    Ana softly smiled. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    Logan set her plate on the coffee table and crossed her legs. ¡°I¡¯m a little concerned though. You sure it isn¡¯t gonna stress you too much? Last time¡­¡±


    Ana quickly shook her head. ¡°No. I¡¯ll be fine. I was young and stupid then. I¡¯m better now.¡±


    Her friend smiled before clasping her hands together. ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear it. That means your recovery is going well?¡±


    Ana beamed a smile. ¡°Sure is. Six months and still going strong. Haven¡¯t had any cravings in a few months.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear it.¡± Logan grabbed her soda and took a sip. ¡°I¡¯m sure your mom is too. You¡¯ve been talking to her, right?¡±


    ¡°I have. Why?¡±


    ¡°I visited her on my way to Jacksonville last Wednesday, and she seemed sick. Has she said anything about being ill? She looked a little pale and thin.¡±


    That¡¯s right. Logan goes to Jacksonville for business, but Livernville just happened to be on her route so she always visited Ana¡¯s mother when she had the chance. They were well acquainted with each other, as her mother was always visiting during birthdays and holidays, and so she knew Ana¡¯s childhood friends. It seems Ana wasn¡¯t the only one concerned that her mother was acting differently. Was her mother really sick? Was that the reason why she was acting strange on the phone? If she was taking medication for whatever sickness she had, it could¡¯ve made her loopy. The story she told her could very well have been a wild tale.


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    Ana sighed and smoothed her hair down. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve talked to her. She sounded strange, but ended the call before I could ask her anything. Did she say anything to you?¡±


    Logan shook her head. ¡°No, not really but¡­¡± She scratched the side of her head with an hesitant look on her face. ¡°She said something about seeing your father in her dreams, how it¡¯s ruining her. I know they weren¡¯t together when they died, but I really think it messed her up. She always looks stressed these past few years, but I think now it¡¯s getting to her.¡±


    Ana¡¯s face paled. It wasn¡¯t possible she meant her human dad. She must have meant her demonic father, but why would she say such a thing? Had that medicine, if she is even taking any, made her that loopy? Maybe I should call or text her, Ana thought. What if it¡¯s something more serious than a terrible flu?


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Logan waved her hands in the air. ¡°We were meant to have a fun time, and now I¡¯m making you concerned over your own mother.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Ana shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s fine. I was thinking about her, anyway.¡±


    Logan examined her, her light brown eyes appearing gold in the waning light. She hummed and smiled. ¡°You have your thinking face on. Promise me you¡¯re not going to do anything stupid?¡±


    ¡°Like what? Travel at least twelve hours to see her?¡± Ana joked, but her friend only raised her eyebrows in reply. Ana sighed. ¡°Yes, yes. I promise you I¡¯m not going to do anything dumb. I¡¯ll just¡­send her a text first.¡±


    Logan grinned and ruffled Ana¡¯s hair before getting up. ¡°Thanks. Mind if I put these leftovers in the fridge?¡±


    Ana nodded. ¡°Yeah, go ahead.¡±


    She grabbed the leftovers and went to the kitchen, leaving Ana to watch the crime show that was still playing. They both hadn¡¯t been paying attention, and it would have to be rewound when Logan came back. Ana leaned over to grab the remote from the coffee table when she felt a prickling at the nape of her neck. Her hand stopped and she gritted her teeth as a cold feeling rushed down her spine. All the signs of Marchosias searching for her.


    Occasionally, he would use a spell to look for her if she wasn¡¯t at her house, which was strange why he used it now. It was Monday, but did he expect her to be somewhere else? No, she thought. It was a warning. He knew Logan is here.


    Logan came back and grabbed her soda, downing the last of it. Ana grabbed the remote and paused the show. She looked up at Logan and smiled softly. ¡°I¡¯m feeling kind of tired, Logan.¡±


    Logan looked taken aback, but recovered quickly. ¡°Oh, okay. I can get out of your hair if you want.¡±


    Ana yawned and stretched her arms in the air. ¡°Yeah, I would like that. Thanks for visiting with me.¡±


    She bent down and hugged Ana. ¡°Yeah, sure. Always a pleasure. I¡¯ll see you on Friday when we go to Lexingside, right?¡±


    Ana hummed in agreement. Logan let go of her with a smile and left the house. When Ana heard the door shut, her smile faded. Her friend was gone, and now she was left alone with Marchosias. He never visited on nights, which meant this was important. Ana couldn¡¯t see a reason why he had to tell her at night, unless it was about her mother.


    She grabbed her empty can of beer and went into the kitchen. She threw it into the trash as she walked by to the sink. She turned the faucet on and grabbed a mostly-clean cup, filling it with water and drinking it. She didn¡¯t need water, it was mostly to settle her nerves. She couldn¡¯t just sit around and not do anything while Marchosias waited to make an appearance. He¡¯s probably behind me now, isn¡¯t he? She mentally prepared herself. Yes. He¡¯s behind me. Just turn around.


    She turned around, and he was indeed standing behind her, close to the kitchen door way. She took another sip of her glass, hoping to appear more relaxed than she felt. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    His gaze went from her to the living room, and back to her. ¡°Your job?¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡±


    He didn¡¯t reply. He stared at her, and Ana is reminded of the last few times she made him mad. Was he in a worse mood tonight? Had he come here just to bother her?


    ¡°Why haven¡¯t you made dinner?¡± He asked another question.


    ¡°I just ate.¡± Ana took another gulp of her water and turned back to the sink.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t.¡±


    That simple reply to her answer was like a decision had already been made for her. He will have dinner with her, whether she wanted to or not. Demons didn¡¯t need to eat, but sometimes they still did. Food was like candy to them; a simple pleasure to only be consumed in reasonable quantities.


    She stared at the sink as she thought. What happens if I disobey him again? Will he find a way to break my wrist again? She slowly tipped her cup until the water came out like a small waterfall. She watched the water go down the drain as her mouth twisted into a snarl. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll make us some dinner.¡±

 Chapter 12: Abience

    The plate of food clattered when Ana set it down without a care. She walked to the opposite end of the table and took a seat. Marchosias stared down at the pasta meal, as if gauging if it was poisoned. It wasn¡¯t, but Ana wished it was.


    They were in the dining room, a once cheerful place that collected dust unless Marchosias insisted on one of their bi-monthly ¡®family¡¯ dinners. A simple wooden table and chairs surrounded by faded yellow walls and lush scenery paintings. A chandelier hung above them, hand-crafted by an old friend of her dad¡¯s. It had 3 bulbs, but two had blown out sometime after her dad¡¯s death and she never bothered to replace them. One remained on her side, so Marchosias was cloaked in a shadow, only a part of his face and body was visible. It didn¡¯t matter, anyway. She didn¡¯t need to see his statue-stillness.


    She looked down at her own plate with disinterest. She had already eaten her fill when Logan was over, and the bland pasta and tomato sauce could not tempt her into eating again. Nevertheless, she picked up her fork and pushed the food around.


    ¡°Have you seen my mom lately?¡± She murmured, resting her cheek on her free hand.


    ¡°Yes.¡± His movements were still robotic and strange, even when he was eating. Left hand at his side while the right hand used the fork to pick up the food and put it in his mouth. He didn¡¯t chew, only swallowed.


    ¡°And? Did she look sick?¡±


    He took another mouthful. ¡°Yes. Headache and a fever. She¡¯s taking sleeping medication.¡±


    Ana stared at him as he ate, or did his best imitation of it. Her mom wouldn¡¯t have told him all those things. She hated talking to him, and would never tell him that she was sick and weak. Like mother like daughter, you don¡¯t show the soft flesh of your stomach to the predator wolf.


    This fact could only mean that he had been possibly spying on her. Could he be spying on Ana, too? If he was, he wouldn¡¯t be acting so calm.


    Ana grabbed her glass of water and took a sip. She noted that Marchosias also had a glass, but it was empty. She hadn¡¯t gotten it for him, which meant he had taken it from the kitchen himself. His behavior was strange, as it always was. He was a creature pretending to be human, but never quite grasping it.


    ¡°I wanted to talk about the incident.¡± Ana started, anxiously poking the pasta with her fork.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to talk about.¡± Marchosias replied.


    ¡°There is,¡± Ana insisted. ¡°I just wanted¡ª¡±


    ¡°It happened, Ana.¡± His dark purple eyes met hers, and she felt her heart still for a moment, out of fear. ¡°The past doesn¡¯t change.¡±


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    ¡°I just wanted you to tell me what happened again.¡± She pressed again, despite her bouncing leg and twitching finger telling her not to. ¡°My memory seems to fail me.¡±


    He stared at her, his face plain and unreadable as always. He didn¡¯t have a napkin on him, but somehow there was not a speck of food on his face. He was meticulous, especially when it came to pasta sauce.


    ¡°The Motloes chased you into the woods, and dragged you back to their house. They tried to kill you to steal your core. I killed them, or thought I did. I took you to the hospital. I made the humans forget it ever happened. That¡¯s it. That¡¯s what happened.¡± His voice was monotone, but Ana could hear the annoyance in his blunt words.


    She looked down at her plate. ¡°Strange of you to make a mistake like that.¡±


    Silence. She said too much. She clenched the fork in her hand. Get ready for another sprained wrist.


    The clatter of his fork on his plate made her jump. She calmed her nerves, and slowly look up at him. He had ate everything on his plate and now had his arms resting on the table. He stared at her, and Ana now felt like she was a criminal being interrogated.


    ¡°What brought this sudden interest on?¡± He asked.


    Ana shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve just been thinking. A lot.¡±


    She wasn¡¯t sure the answer satisfied him, but he didn¡¯t press her for a more clear one. He still stared, however. As if he could burn a hole in her head and unlock all of her secrets.


    ¡°Have you seen the Motloes yet?¡±


    She swallowed. I have to be careful about answering this, she thought. I can¡¯t lie in front of a demon.


    She swallowed, before gesturing to no where in particular with her fork. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be here if I did, would I?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t ask for sarcasm, I asked for an answer.¡± His voice raised.


    Ana shook her head and set her fork down. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you expect. Ask stupid questions, get stupid answers.¡±


    Ana felt as if she had gone too far that time, but he did nothing. The dining room was silent as they sat there, doing nothing as the night grew older. She was tired and wanted to go to bed, but Marchosias insisted on this poor excuse of a family dinner. Family. They were only family by blood.


    Her human dad had been a natural cook. He had tried to teach her, but she could only make the most basic of food. He always made dinner feel lively. Asking about her day, telling her jokes and insisting she had a second or third helping. He frequently invited friends of his to eat dinner, or even struggling families. Her and her demonic father¡¯s current dinner was a cold, fading echo of what once was.


    Marchosias abruptly stood from his spot, the chair screeching against the hardwood floor. ¡°I must go.¡±


    ¡°All of a sudden? Did you leave your oven on or something?¡± Ana quipped, standing up too.


    ¡°No. I have matters to attend to.¡±


    ¡°Matters?¡± She followed him to the living room. ¡°What kind of matters?¡±


    He stopped suddenly, and Ana nearly bumped into him. She backed away as he turned around to look at her, a strange and foreign glint in his eye. ¡°I still have the Motloes to find. There¡¯s also the matter of their mother that needs to be attended to.¡±


    Her mouth ran dry. ¡°Mother?¡±


    He raised his head and looked down at her. ¡°Yes. What do you think they¡¯re stalking around this town for? They want to use you to find their mother.¡±


    He¡¯s on their tail, she thought grimly. How long before they get caught and he realizes I have been helping them?


    She turned away from him and to the TV that was still paused. ¡°Good luck with that, then.¡±


    He didn¡¯t disappear like he usually did. He stood there, looking down at her. Was she suspicious? Did he suspect her of hiding something? Say something else. She pressed her lips together, and tentatively looked back at him.


    ¡°I get nightmares, about something chasing me in the woods and dragging me into the basement. I can¡¯t escape from them.¡± She murmured. It was technically the truth, but also not. She did have those nightmares, but she hasn¡¯t had them in months. She thought the recent stress would bring them back, but it didn¡¯t for some strange reason.


    He studied her for a moment before placing his hand on her shoulder. A strange, cold touch. ¡°They will be dead soon.¡± His voice was quiet and hollow, no warmth like Ana had stupidly expected. It wasn¡¯t reassurance, but a declaration.His eyes went to the coffee table and narrowed. ¡°Clean up your mess. What do I have for a daughter, a woman or a pig?¡±


    He left. The gesture wasn¡¯t made out concern or genuine care. He had done what he had thought was expected of him, and that was it. That was there entire relationship. He only talked to her because her mother insisted they have a relationship, despite Ana¡¯s insistence they didn¡¯t. She would be just happy if he left her alone, but every week he visits and complains about one thing or another.


    Ana sighed, walked to the coffee table, and cleaned the remnants of her and Logan¡¯s takeout and crime show session.

 Chapter 13: Nudnik

    When Ana came home from work and exited her truck, she knew something was off about her front porch. She couldn¡¯t see anything at first, it was more like a gut feeling. And a mageia feeling.


    She walked to the porch, purse clutched close to her hip as she walked to the steps. When she got only a few feet away, she finally knew what it was. Spellwork, carved into the wood of the railings and steps. It was Marchosias¡¯ work; she recognized the ancient Nordic runes he always favored. She approached the steps and ran her finger along the runes, his magic tingling like electricity. What are these for? To keep me inside, or to keep others out?


    It seems Marchosias really does suspect that she¡¯s getting into trouble. Does he believe that she¡¯s bringing in unwanted guests? Maybe he didn¡¯t like her friend, Logan after all. She was the one who told Ana that her mother appeared sick. Marchosias never liked too many questions.


    Footsteps crunched the grass behind her and she whirled around. Beau stood there, stopping his steps when Ana had turned around. He wore a black jacket and his leather gloves, despite the dismal summer heat. Ana couldn¡¯t understand why he insisted on wearing the garb, he must have been sweating under it all. He must have considered if hiding his burn scars was worth the risk of passing out from heat exhaustion.


    Ana looked around and behind him for Judas, but he was nowhere in sight.


    ¡°He¡¯s not with me. He was taking a nap when I left.¡± Beau said, as if reading her thoughts.


    Ana scoffed. ¡°When he wakes up, he¡¯ll follow you like a lost puppy. That¡¯s what he always does.¡±


    ¡°I told him I was going to get food before he fell asleep.¡±


    ¡°You think he would believe that? He may be a fool but he¡¯s not stupid.¡± Ana turned around to the runes again, considering if she could risk stepping across them. She didn¡¯t know if they would alert Marchosias or not.


    ¡°Have you¡­looked through your grimoire?¡± Beau asked, taking a few steps closer to her.


    Ana slowly shook her head. ¡°No¡­I¡¯ve been too busy with work and my father. He visited me last night.¡±


    ¡°I know. Did he say anything¡­useful?¡±


    Ana bit her lip, remembering what Marchosias had said during the dinner. ¡°He¡¯s looking for you and Judas¡­and your mother. He¡¯s on your trail.¡±


    Beau didn¡¯t reply, and Ana turned around to gauge his reaction. His eyes were staring at the ground, his brows scrunched in worry. ¡°He doesn¡¯t know where she is, either?¡¯


    Ana raised an eyebrow. ¡°You were expecting him to?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± He hesitantly shrugged his shoulders. ¡°I think I was just hoping that he would tell you something, anything other than the fact that she might be held by the Creed of Solomon.¡±


    She adjusted the purse hanging on her shoulder and crosses her arms. ¡°Those scientist freaks are far from my concern right now.¡± She turned back around to the porch. ¡°Right now, I have to figure out why my father insists I need all these ugly runes carved into my damn porch.¡±


    ¡°You should be worried. At any moment they could come to this town and¡ª¡± She heard his footsteps approach her. He stopped by her side and looked down at the carvings. ¡°Interesting¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch them,¡± Ana warned. ¡°I don¡¯t know why they¡¯re there.¡±


    He leaned down and examined them, his dark eyes roving over the intricate runes. ¡°They look similar to the ones on the border. I¡¯m not familiar with the runes he uses, but they act as a warning system. Any cambion passes these steps, and he gets an alert. They seem to exclude you, however. These type of runes are far older than any I¡¯ve ever studied, but I recognize some letters.¡±


    ¡°You seem to know a lot about this,¡± Ana responded, crossing her arms. She didn¡¯t want to seem as impressed as she was, but couldn¡¯t help that it was evident in her voice.


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    Beau turned to her, but could only hold her gaze for a few seconds before looking away.


    ¡°Runic¡ªthe runic alphabet is used by a lot of northern European cambion families for mageia spells. My father¡ªhe is from the Seminole Tribe of Florida, but he made both me and Judas learn different versions of the runic alphabet and other languages used for mageia, just in case we ran into different cambions.¡±


    ¡°A methodical man,¡± Ana sighed. ¡°If only my father was the same. He treats training sessions like a real battle.¡±


    She dumped her purse next to the steps and made her way around the house. Beau followed at a distance.


    ¡°I don¡¯t mean to rush you or anything but, Judas and I have to leave soon. He¡¯s becoming impatient and is worried your father will find us.¡± Beau said as Ana made her way to her garden.


    ¡°So leave.¡± Ana murmured, brushing her hand over the summersweet bushes lining her back porch. They hadn¡¯t bloomed yet, so they looked boring and unassuming compared to the rest of her flowering plants and trees. As she passed the bushes, she noted the runes carved into her back porch. ¡°Or if Judas wants to get himself killed, he can do that too. Like I care. He¡¯s never had any patience to begin with.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m aware.¡± Beau watched as she examined a pot of grape tomatoes. ¡°He won¡¯t leave without me.¡±


    Ana shrugged nonchalantly. ¡°Go, then. You have a basic idea of where your mom might be. My father is looking for you, so I think it¡¯s better to skip town while you still can.¡±


    Beau stared at her, an uncertain look on his face. ¡°That would mean our deal is complete, then?¡±


    Right. The deal. She had almost forgotten. Get his mom¡¯s location, get her memories of the incident. It seemed so impossible at first, but now here they are.


    ¡°Okay.¡± Ana turned away from the tomato vine and fully faced him. ¡°Tell me, then. What happened during the incident.¡±


    He shifted his feet, his fists clenching at his sides. Was he nervous, or afraid? ¡°It¡¯s¡­not something I can just tell you. It¡¯s¡ªIt¡¯s not¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not what?¡± She pressed. ¡°Either my father lied about it or he didn¡¯t. Just tell me the truth.¡±


    He looked anxious now, crossing his arms and looking away from her. His face betrayed him by completely showing his emotions. He was scared to tell her, it seems. He couldn¡¯t fall through with his end of the deal.


    A distant rumbling started down the road, just in front of her house. It steadily became louder until Ana realized it was coming into her driveway, and Beau was immediately forgotten. A loud and pompous truck motor, one that spoke of nothing but wealth and a compensation for something much smaller. Ana knew the driver well.


    ¡°Ah, shit.¡± She walked back to the front of the house. Beau followed behind her, still looking nervous, but now it was about something else.


    ¡°Should I make myself scarce?¡± He asked. Ana shook her head.


    ¡°No, we still need to talk. Just let me deal with this first.¡± She murmured.


    Deacon had parked behind her truck and was just getting out when Ana rounded the corner. Beau stopped following and stood beside the porch as Ana walked up to Deacon. They were enough distance away the Beau wouldn¡¯t be able to hear them clearly, which is what Ana wanted.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t call.¡± Ana said, letting a bit of anger out in her voice.


    Deacon shrugged with a smile. ¡°Didn¡¯t think I needed to. You left work before I could ask you a question.¡±


    Ana sighed. ¡°You could¡¯ve called or texted me. I¡¯m busy right now.¡±


    Deacon glanced at Beau behind them. ¡°With him?¡±


    She scoffed. ¡°Don¡¯t start. He¡¯s somebody I knew from high school.¡±


    ¡°You sure? He doesn¡¯t look like he¡¯s from this town.¡±


    She narrowed his gaze at him. ¡°From the other high school. I haven¡¯t lived here all my life, you know.¡±


    ¡°Could¡¯ve fooled me,¡± He replied, taking a strand of her hair that had escaped from her bun and twirling it around his finger. ¡°You¡¯re always a little too trusting when it comes to men from out of town.¡±


    She swiped his hand away and tucked her hair behind her ear. ¡°What do you want that can¡¯t be said over a phone call?¡±


    Deacon looked at her, his gray eyes examining her face. He glanced back at Beau again, but this time it was longer. ¡°Why is he here?¡±


    She scowled and took a step back. ¡°If you¡¯re not going to tell me what you wanted to say, then you might as well leave.¡±


    ¡°It was only a question!¡± Deacon said, in a more joyful tone. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll say what I wanted to say. Do you want to go to Lexingside on Friday? To a nightclub, maybe?¡±


    ¡°No. I already told my friends I would be going with them. Find another date.¡±


    She turned and started walking away from him, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back. She faced him with a venomous glare, hand ready to pry his fingers off of her arm.


    ¡°You know, whenever I ask about you in this shitty town, all people can talk about is how sorry they feel for you, how it¡¯s a shame you are all alone in that big house of yours.¡± He leaned in, his rancid breath smelling of cigarettes and energy drinks. He hadn¡¯t shaved in a while, and it grew in unevenly. ¡°Just remember when you¡¯re with that freak over there, that nobody else in this bumfuck town but me can stop feeling sorry for you enough to fuck you.¡±


    Ana shoved him away and his back hit the truck, causing a loud bang to permeate the air. He only smiled at her, and Ana wanted nothing more than to rip it off of his face.


    ¡°Get the hell off of my property,¡± She snapped. ¡°And don¡¯t think of ever coming back.¡±


    She turned around and walked away from him, back to Beau. He was crouched down and petting Jazzy. Jazzy, the moody cat who never liked anybody expect for her dad. She seemed to be absorbing the attention, rubbing up against Beau¡¯s pants and leaning into his hand when he scratched behind her ear. She would¡¯ve thought more about it, if Deacon hadn¡¯t pissed her off. She stormed up the steps and unlocked the front door with the keys from her pocket. ¡°Jazzy, food!¡±


    Her feline ears perked up, and hopped up the steps and into the house, preferring the temptation of food than the attention of a new person. Beau stood from his spot, but didn¡¯t walk up the steps. ¡°What family is he from?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Ana turned to him. The sound of Deacon¡¯s truck starting made her jump. She clenched her fists and forced herself to breath slowly. She rubbed her face with her hands and sighed. ¡°God, I don¡¯t know. Carbonneau? Something like that.¡±


    Beau only hummed in response.


    ¡°What?¡± Ana leaned against the railing. ¡°Are you going to throw a fit, too?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Beau looked up at her. ¡°No, I¡­I didn¡¯t mean¡ª¡±


    ¡°Forget it. I¡¯m just tired and stressed.¡± She covered her face with her hands. Her phone vibrated once in her pocket and she bit her lip. I hope it¡¯s my mom and not Deacon. She had texted her mom after Marchosias had left last night, telling her to get well soon and that she hoped she was okay. Her mother had responded within an hour reassuring her that she was fine, but that didn¡¯t do much to console Ana.


    ¡°Should I leave?¡± He murmured. Ana moved her hands away from her face and looked at him. He looked uncomfortable, uncertain of what he should do. His posture was awkward, his shoulders switching from slouched to straight and his fingers tapping the sides of his jeans.


    ¡°No¡­¡± Ana replied. ¡°I still have more questions.¡±


    ¡°Questions?¡±

 Chapter 14: Confab

    Ana sat down on the porch steps, grabbing her purse off of the ground. ¡°I wanted to ask about the Creed of Solomon.¡±


    Beau stood a few feet away from her, arms crossed against his chest. He looked relieved, as if he expected her to ask questions about the incident.


    ¡°Why should I be concerned about them? This is the first time I¡¯m hearing about them.¡± Ana said.


    ¡°They¡¯re bigger than you think,¡± He replied. ¡°They¡¯ve captured powerful demons. They haven¡¯t found you yet, but they wouldn¡¯t hesitate to take you, make your disappearance look like just an extended vacation.¡±


    ¡°How do you know all this?¡±


    Beau shifted his stance, glancing at the sunset before looking back at her. ¡°Me and Judas were there for awhile. I wouldn¡¯t talk to them at first, but when I did they were willing to tell me some things.¡±


    ¡°How trusting of them.¡± Ana pulled out her phone and quickly glanced at the text she received. It was from Cora, but she didn¡¯t read the message. She stuffed the phone into her purse so she could forget about it for now.


    ¡°They thought I was going to stay with them, thinking I would be too ashamed to show my face in regular society. I tried getting Judas¡¯ father to help me, but he wouldn¡¯t listen. So I got myself out.¡±


    Ana raised her eyebrows. ¡°So, you¡¯re on the run? They might come here?¡±


    Beau shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m no use to them. I can barely perform spells with the state of my fingers, and I can¡¯t give them any information they don¡¯t already have.¡±


    ¡°What use would I be to them, then?¡± Ana replied. ¡°I¡¯m no better than a human magician with spells. Unless they think my father will come to the rescue or something.¡±


    ¡°They always have a reason for their actions.¡± Beau replied. He looked at Ana, and noticed her tired demeanor. Leaning against the railing with her shoulders slouched and hair falling out of her bun. Ana stared back, not bothering to conceal her fatigue from him anymore.


    ¡°What are you going to do now?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Summon my father. Ask him a few questions, see if he spills.¡±


    He winced and looked away. ¡°I¡¯m not sure that¡¯s a good idea. He¡¯s going to know somebody told you.¡±


    ¡°Right. He¡¯s too smart for his own good.¡± She groaned, rubbing her face. ¡°Fuck, I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ll just say somebody from the Creed of Solomon has been going around, asking shady questions about shady people. They technically do that, right? So it¡¯s not a lie.¡±


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Creed shrugged his shoulders. ¡°I suppose. Can you spare me an hour to leave town, first?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, whatever.¡± She waved him off. He nodded and seemed to hesitate, as if he considered saying something else, before turning away from her and walking down the drive.


    ¡°Beau.¡±


    He stopped, and turned back to Ana.


    ¡°If you¡¯re not going to tell me about the incident yet, then why don¡¯t you just¡­tell me something else. Something close to it.¡± Ana requested. She wanted to know what happened to them, but Beau didn¡¯t seem ready for that. She could at least settle for a tiny morsel of information.


    Beau hesitated, opening his mouth before closing it again. He seemed to search through his thoughts, looking down at the ground, his eyes flicking from one blade of grass to the next. He seemed to settle one one thing, and he looked back at her.


    ¡°The first¡ªthe first time I woke up after¡­it happened, I was in pain and I couldn¡¯t see or move, but I thought of you. I¡­thought of what could¡¯ve happened to you.¡± He looked away, appearing embarrassed of the confession. ¡°Don¡¯t listen to Judas when he says you¡¯re a coward for being free to do whatever you want all these years. I wouldn¡¯t have wanted you in that facility with us, under the Solomon¡¯s thumb. We¡¯ve all suffered in our own way.¡±


    He left in a cloud of amber mist. Ana looked around, but could not see him anywhere. He had completely disappeared from sight after making that confession. Ana backed away from the railing and to the front door with a bemused expression. Why has my father never taught me how to do that?


    ¡ª_¡ª


    She took a shower and ate some leftover crab rangoons before preparing the summoning spell. She prayed it gave Beau enough time to get out of town.


    Usually, a human magician would need a multitude of items for a demon summoning spell, something similar to what she used for the location spell she casted with Beau. However, due to her connection to Marchosias, it wasn¡¯t required. She walked to the altar and took account of the supplies. Chalk, perfume, incense lamp, the invocations needed to summon Marchosias, and the Pentagram of Solomon with Marchosias¡¯ demonic sigil on the back. Most of these were only backups just in case she couldn¡¯t summon him with just her blood, but she took the perfume capsules and the Pentagram of Solomon just to help speed the process a little.


    She sat down on the hardwood floor of the living room and drew the summoning sigil with a piece of chalk. She put on the Pentagram of Solomon around her neck, the silver chain feeling cold against her skin. She took a ceremonial knife from the altar and held her hand above the sigil, taking in a deep breath. She pressed the blade to the soft flesh of her palm and winced as it cut through her skin like butter. She let a few drops of blood drip onto the sigil before closing her hand and setting the knife to the side. She broke the scent capsules with her bloody hand, wincing at the short stab of pain from her palm. Smoke and fresh pine filled the air as she set her hands on her bent knees, palms faced towards the ceiling.


    She opened her mouth to speak the incantations, but hesitated. She thought about what Beau said, and started to doubt that this was a good plan after all. Would Marchosias even believe the excuse she had planned for knowing about the Creed of Solomon? It was more then likely he knew about them, and she wanted to know why he hasn¡¯t told her anything about them.


    She cleared away the doubtful thoughts and started speaking the incantations. No time to go back. I need some answers from him for once. ¡°I do conjure thee, O spirit Marchosias! I invoke thee, and by  your flesh I summon thee to me!¡±


    The sigil on the floor glowed an almost blinding white and she felt her mageia flow through her, stealing her breath away just for a moment. Marchosias had received the summons and would be arriving soon. Ana couldn¡¯t go back now, and the only thing left to do was wait.


    And so she waited. For an hour. In the first thirty minutes she scrolled through her phone before getting bored and turning the TV on. He still did not come. The sun had set long ago, and Ana was left waiting for Marchosias to appear.


    She gave up near the second hour. She destroyed the summoning sigil out of aggravation and got rid of any evidence of the ritual. What was the point of him giving me a way to summon him if he didn¡¯t answer?


    Ana was about ready to go to bed before she remembered the text she had received from Cora. She grabbed her phone she left on the coffee table and read it.


    Her and Logan wanted to go clubbing with her, but she had sent the text over two hours ago. Ana felt bad for not responding sooner, but she knew they would still be partying late into the night. My father isn¡¯t here to stop me from going, so where¡¯s the trouble in hanging with friends?


    She responded to her friend for her location before hopping up the stairs, set on finding a dress to wear for the night.

 Chapter 15: Incorporeal

    The stormy clouds parted just enough for the afternoon sun to shine in Ana¡¯s eyes and she winced, squeezing her eyes shut. No aspirin, no electrolyte drinks, nothing to make this hangover feel better. She would just have to deal.


    She was supposed to work today, but called in sick at the last moment after waking up feeling like a horse kicked her in the face. She didn¡¯t feel like dealing with Deacon, anyhow. He tried to call her three times this morning before she ended up blocking his number. What he said to her still made her feel sour inside, and she wasn¡¯t ready to speak to him or hear any apology he might have in store. This wasn¡¯t there first fight, and probably wouldn¡¯t be their last. In a week or two, things would be normal with them again, as they always do.


    Ana sat on a large, flat rock, drawing a circle with elaborate markings around the edge. She was in the forest, thirty minutes away from her house and surrounded by pine trees on all sides. She was most calm when she was surrounded by nature, no human in sight to bug or harass her. Except for Beau.


    He appeared from the trees to her left, in the direction of her house. He was wearing the same jacket and gloves as before, but now wore black cargo pants. His hair was no longer tied behind him but was let loose around his shoulders. Despite the gentle breeze blowing against him, not a single strand of his black hair moved.


    ¡°I assumed you saw my note?¡± Ana called out from the rock. She didn¡¯t realize how high off the ground she was until he came close to the rock. The natural platform was just over his head. He had to place his hands on the rock and pull himself up to see what I was doing.


    ¡°Taped to the front of your porch, for anybody including your father to see? Yeah. I saw it.¡± Beau replied, bluntly. Ana rolled her eyes. He looked at the circle she was drawing. ¡°What exactly are we doing here?¡±


    ¡°You asked me to find another spell, and so I am.¡± She looked down at the drawing in front of her, and to the grimoire she was using for reference. ¡°Arrow pointed to the north¡­¡± She glanced down at the compass she brought with her and drew an arrow on the right spot.


    ¡°We couldn¡¯t do this at the hotel, or barn?¡± Beau asked.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t feel like going to your motel, not if Judas is there. This spell requires us to be at a certain elevation, and you can¡¯t enter my house.¡± Ana murmured in reply, making a few more markings with her piece of charcoal. ¡°¡­There. Hop on this rock and sit in the middle. Use the one behind me to get up.¡±


    She pointed to the lower, smaller rock behind her and he nodded. She moved to the side as he climbed onto the big rock and sat down, crossing his legs.


    Ana flipped the pages and began reading the instructions for the spell. She already memorized the incantation for the spell this morning, which required further online research on how to pronounce Proto-Norse words, a dead language nobody has spoken in hundreds of years. That only left the instructions on the beginning of the spell to be deciphered, but they were in Old English, which she knew better. She blinked as the headache in the back of her eyes persisted, making reading the Old English words more frustrating than they had to be.


    ¡°You look ill,¡± Beau commented.


    ¡°Huh?¡± Ana glanced up at him before returning her eyes to the page. ¡°Oh. I drank too much last night. Didn¡¯t have anything to get rid of the headaches.¡±


    A few minutes of silence followed her statement as she read the instructions. This spell is different than the last one we performed. This spell requires my blood, and lot¡¯s of it. It needs to be placed on Beau¡¯s forehead. Do I really need to touch him again?


    ¡°I know a spell¡­to get rid of the headache¡ªif you want.¡±


    Ana looked up at him. His face looked sincere, but nervous as he waited for her answer.


    ¡°You know a spell that gets rid of hangovers?¡±


    ¡°No¡ªno, it¡¯s only a spell for, like¡ªfor getting rid of distractions. It won¡¯t heal you, just block you from feeling them.¡± He rephrased, squeezing his hands together out of nervousness.


    Ana sighed and looked away as she thought. Well, he hasn¡¯t killed me yet. He can¡¯t seem to do harmful spells with those disfigured fingers of his. ¡°Fine. Just make it quick.¡±


    He seemed surprised that she agreed to it, but quickly hid it. He hesitantly took off his gloves and set them to the side. He took a strange, small, orange ball from his pocket and crushed it between his thumbs. The liquid inside spread across his thumbs but did not drip onto the ground. Instead, it wrapped around his thumbs like the slimy tendrils of an octopus. He raised his hands close to her face. ¡°May I?¡±


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    She thought for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of letting some strange orange substance touch her face, but eventually nodded.


    ¡°Close your eyes.¡± He murmured, and she did. After a few short seconds, she felt his thumbs press against the sides of her head, where the soft flesh was. Beau repeated a chant under his breath in a language Ana could not discern. She realized the orange substance was pure mageia as the strange, crisp smell flooded her nostrils and made her eyes water. Despite the uncomfortable feeling, it also felt..familiar. Nostalgic. She knew it from somewhere, but she didn¡¯t know how or why. Where have I felt this before?


    The spell finished as quick as it started, and Beau quickly pulled away from her. She opened her eyes and felt as if she could see and think clearly for the first time this morning. Her headache was gone, and she didn¡¯t feel so groggy anymore. The spell really had worked after all. She stared at Beau, trying to discern where she had felt his mageia before. It must¡¯ve been before the incident, right? It must have.


    He nervously coughed and looked down at the book in her lap. ¡°The¡­the spell? What do we have to do?¡±


    She blinked. ¡°Right. Uh¡­¡± She looked down at the page and started reading the pages. ¡°We have to¡­I mean, I have to use my blood for this spell, and¡­put on your forehead? No, place my bloodied hand on your forehead¡­.recite the incantations¡­focus my power¡­¡±


    Her words trailed off as she, again, tried to decipher the ancient text. It was easier now that the headache was gone, but it didn¡¯t make the old-timey words any less confusing. Medieval people and their fancy ways.


    ¡°Okay. I think I got it. Bleed thy hand, place on seeker¡¯s temple. Focus mind¡¯s eye.¡± She grabbed the ceremonial knife from her bag and opened her palm. She had bandaged it just before going to bed last night and there was now dark stain of blood on the bandage. She took it off and looked at the sealed wound grimly, a mark of failure from Marchosias¡¯ summoning ritual that he never answered.


    ¡°¡­You went through with it?¡± Beau asked in a hushed whisper. Ana didn¡¯t look up at him, not wanting to see what kind of emotion he had on his face. She didn¡¯t want to know if he had any pity for her or not.


    ¡°No.¡± She bluntly answered. ¡°I have to place my hand on your forehead. Is that alright?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± He murmured. ¡°How exactly¡­will this help us? Help find my mom?¡±


    ¡°It will pull memories of your mother from your own mind as a sort of source for finding her, or something. I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s sort of gibberish to me, but it¡¯s what we¡¯re looking for.¡±


    She pressed the blade to his soft skin, but Beau stopped her by placing his hand over hers. His , marred, hand. She glared, offended by any sort of physical, unnecessary, touch from him.


    ¡°Only the memories of my mom?¡± He looked uncertain, serious. His eyes hard and his mouth set in a thin line. Ana nodded once. He moved his hand away.


    He¡¯s afraid I¡¯ll look for his memories of the incident. A tempting prospect, I¡¯ll admit. But I can wait just a bit longer before he is finally ready to tell me. She pressed the blade into her skin, deeper than the last cut, and blood spilled from her palm. She winced, stopping the cry of pain before it could leave her mouth. This has to be enough blood for the spell, she thought as she watched the scarlet liquid drip down onto her pants.


    ¡°Ready?¡± She croaked. Beau nodded. With the blood pooling in her palm, she quickly placed her clean hand to the back of his neck and the bloody palm to his forehead. Before she closed her eyes, she saw Beau¡¯s shocked expression as the blood spilled over his face.


    She leaned close into him until she could feel his warm breath on her face. She began to chant the Nordic words she memorized for the past few hours, trying her best to remember the pronunciations of the ancient language. As she spoke, she focused hard on Beau¡¯s Mom, Emily Ann Motloe. Emily Ann Motloe. Emily Ann Motloe. Let me see her. Let me find her.


    She could feel her mageia spill from her palm and onto Beau¡¯s forehead. He squirmed under her grasp, but otherwise didn¡¯t move. Emily Ann Motloe. She could feel something now, a tingling. But that was it, a small spark of light in the back of her mind. It stayed that way for a few minutes. She began to feel weak and shaky, and knew she was using up her magic reserves for this one spell as she continued to repeat the chant over and over.


    ¡°Ana..you¡¯re getting pale. If you can¡¯t do this¡ª¡±


    She gripped the back of his neck harder, and he stayed quite. She continued the chant, pushing harder into her own mind and his. Emily Ann Motloe. Emily Ann Motloe. Emily Ann Motloe.


    The tiny white speck suddenly grew bigger until it completely covered her, and she gasped. Her head was thrown back to the sky, her mouth agape. It felt as if her eyes were glued shut and she had no choice but to witness the images that were shown before her.


    A kind, smiling woman. Hair as dark as chocolate, eyes as intense as an evergreen forest. Sharp tongue, fingers always manicured and smooth to the touch. Maternal, soft, love, warmth. But there was something else there. Pain. Betrayal of the whole family, and betrayal of her husband.


    Ana realized these weren¡¯t her memories, but Beau¡¯s. Were these his last impressions of her before they got separated? She didn¡¯t have time to think before she was thrown into another memory.


    I sat on the floor of a bedroom, decoration and furniture around me a discolored blur as if I could not remember them properly or they just did not matter. My face was wet, as if I had been crying. But I never cry. I¡¯m too strong for that, and as the eldest sibling I shouldn¡¯t show fear. That¡¯s how everybody else knows what we¡¯re doing is wrong, even Father.


    Another person sat down next to me, and I realized I was up against my bed, facing away from the half-shut door so nobody would see me crying. I turned to see Mother, Her usually perfect hair was a mess, and she hadn¡¯t applied makeup that day. She was usually so clean and meticulous, and now she wasn¡¯t.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, hun. I know what this means for you.¡± She whispered, wrapping an around around my shoulders. I felt tears well my eyes, and I didn¡¯t stop them. I couldn¡¯t.


    ¡°I can¡¯t do this!¡± I cried. ¡°She doesn¡¯t deserve this¡ªShe has nothing to do with us! I don¡¯t care about what she stole from me¡ªshe didn¡¯t¡ªshe didn¡¯t¡­¡±


    Mother pulled me into a hug, and the sobs were let loose. She always knew what to do to comfort me. ¡°Oh, my little Beau¡­¡± She murmured, rubbing my back. ¡°Your father knows what¡¯s best for this family. He knows what he¡¯s doing, and he believes you¡¯ll feel much better once this is all over.¡±


    I sobbed again. ¡°It¡¯ll kill her. I will kill her. I can¡¯t do that¡­I¡¯m not Judas.¡±


    Mother flinched at the mentions of my little brother. She pulled me away, just enough to look me in the eye. ¡°Don¡¯t say that. This is for a good reason. You need the remnants of your core back, and this will sever the connection between Margaret and that foul demon. She is a good woman. She deserves to be free, and if Ana has to die for that to happen¡­then so be it.¡±


    My sobbing stopped. I looked into my mom¡¯s determined face. Yes, this has to be the only option. It has to be. The death for a girl for two positive outcomes. A human woman can finally be free of a terrible demon¡¯s grasp¡­and a cambion girl doesn¡¯t have to live with the pain of being the daughter of Marchosias. I really didn¡¯t care about my core, but the thought of peace for two people made me feel a little better.


    I have to believe there will be sunny skies at the end of this dark storm. I have to. Just for my mom. ¡°Okay,¡± I murmured. ¡°Okay.¡±


    The memory ended, but Ana¡¯s shock and pain wasn¡¯t over yet. She was thrown into something else, but this time it was a yellow barrier. A shock of yellow hit her eyes, and she could not move past it. She tried to push herself through it in whatever corporeal form the spell had decided to give her, despite the pain it caused just behind her right eye, but she failed. She was about to give up when the yellow barrier formed into something else. Electric yellow eyes, sharp and brilliant makeup, a pale face, and black hair. ¡°Now¡­who could you possibly be?¡± The smell of cypress and  hit her nose just before she was thrown far, far away.

 Chapter 16: Conniption

    She returned to the present day with a gasp, staring up at the stormy sky. She felt as if she was falling back at first before a pair of hands grabbed onto hers and she was pulled forward. She breathed heavily, trying to process exactly what happened. I saw his mom, but I also saw¡­Beau¡¯s last memory of her? Or at least the last important memory. Had the spell taken that from Beau to use it?


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± Beau asked hastily, his hands still holding her arms. She finally focused on him and the blood that covered his face. His eyes were wide with fear, as if afraid she had seen something she shouldn¡¯t have, and she did. He decided he wanted me dead all those years ago, and the woman we were looking for had convinced him of this.


    She decided to act civil for now. Six years was enough to change somebody¡¯s opinion of another person and besides, she didn¡¯t truly know what went down in that basement, but now she had a basic idea.


    ¡°I had trouble reaching your mind. There was some kind of blockage.¡± She murmured.


    Beau looked away with a shameful look on his face. He took his hands off of her and crossed his arms. ¡°I¡­¡± His brows knitted in worry. ¡°I have a glamour. On my face. It hides my¡ªmy scars. Judas put it on there. He¡¯s good with glamour and illusion spells.¡±


    Of course. It all made sense now. Why he had scars on every part of his body except for his face, why his hair didn¡¯t move even when the wind blew fiercely. He knew it would give her a problem, but he didn¡¯t tell her.


    She grabbed the grimoire and knife and stuffed them in her bag angrily. ¡°It would¡¯ve been nice if you told me that so I wouldn¡¯t have to almost kill myself trying to complete the fucking spell.¡±


    ¡°No wait¡ªI just¡ªI was afraid, Ana. I didn¡¯t hide it from you out of¡ªout of malice, I swear. I just don¡¯t like showing my real face, I promise you!¡± He held his hands out as if to stop her hands from stuffing her items into her bag, but they didn¡¯t touch her.


    She looked back at his pleading face and realized he still was covered in her blood. She sighed and reached into her bag again, ignoring the dizzying feeling the sudden fast motions had caused, and handed him a bottle of water and a rag. ¡°Clean your face.¡±


    She turned away from him and let her legs dangle off the side of the rock. She covered her face with her hands and took a deep breath in, ignoring the vertigo feeling looking down at the ground had given her. She had used up magic reserves she technically didn¡¯t have, and now she payed the price. She felt horrible and sick. Blood leaked from her nose, and she did nothing to stop it. Whatever strength and vigor Beau¡¯s spell had given her was now gone, and she suddenly felt like falling asleep on this rock. She couldn¡¯t, unfortunately. There was a man behind her who was eager to see her dead when they were just kids.


    She slowly turned around and back to Beau. His face was now clean, the bottle and rag sitting next to him. There were still flecks of dried blood near his hairline, however. He gave her a concerned look, but otherwise didn¡¯t make a comment about her visible fatigue.


    ¡°What¡­did you see?¡± He tentatively asked.


    Ana glared at him, or her best shot at a glare. Her eyes were threatening to close while she was still awake, which she didn¡¯t like. She had to stay conscious until she got home.


    ¡°Random things about your mother¡­what you thought of her. Random shit.¡± She murmured. She reached into her bag for another rag and held it to her nose. ¡°After that, I was taken to somewhere with a yellow barrier. I couldn¡¯t get past it, no matter what I tried. Then¡­somebody appeared. I didn¡¯t know who they were, but they¡­spoke to me before I was thrown back here. Yellow eyes, masculine voice. They smelled like cypress and , I think.¡±


    Beau appeared to think, scratching the back of his neck. ¡°I don¡¯t remember any demon like that, but I¡¯ve only ever met two. It might be a demon the Creed of Solomon captured a long time ago and have been using for their own will. I know there is a certain sect somewhere in Canada that uses bright yellow as their color, but that¡¯s about it. Solomon likes to use the colors of the demons they capture, as a sort of¡­mark of pride.¡±


    Ana only half-listened to his ramblings, concentrating hard on not falling asleep where she sat. She reached a numb hand to the incense but missed it by an inch. She quickly tried again before Beau could notice and snuffed the incense stick out with her finger and threw it into her bag, doing the same with the incense holder.


    ¡°Ana¡­you¡¯re father. I¡¯m concerned you¡¯re pushing his patience. He¡¯s going to lash out if you push him too much.¡±


    Ana looked up at Beau again as she lifted the bag¡¯s strap over her shoulder. ¡°I know what I¡¯m doing. He¡¯s my father. He can¡¯t hurt me, even if he tried.¡±


    ¡°He can¡¯t, that¡¯s true. He can still hurt the ones around you, though.¡±


    Her hands stilled. She hated what he said. She hated that it made sense, and she hated that she hadn¡¯t considered it before. She was too caught up in her own mind to think that he could harm others as a way to punish her. She was selfish.


    She didn¡¯t answer him. She pulled her legs to the side of the rock again and pushed off. She landed on her feet, but her weak body fell to the ground. She placed her hands before her so she wouldn¡¯t hit her face and pain shot up her wrists. She stayed on the ground for a few moments before standing. It felt as if it took all her strength to put her legs beneath her, her muscles screaming as they were put to use. When she was finally standing fully, her vision blurred and her ears rung. She let out a shaky breath and held the sides of her head, waiting for the ground to stop swaying beneath her so she could walk.


    Beau appeared next to her, moving as silent as night. He placed a hand on her elbow just before she wrenched it from him. She stumbled away from him, but that sudden motion caused her to fall onto her behind. She grunted and gasped in pain, but did not try to get up again. She squeezed her eyes shut as the dim sky was suddenly too bright for her eyes.


    The grass suddenly seemed softer than her real bed, and she wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep for awhile. She couldn¡¯t do that when Beau was near, however. His thoughts from the memory with his mother repeated in her head, and she wanted to curse him away.


    ¡°Let me help you,¡± He murmured softly. ¡°You can¡¯t even stand, let alone walk.¡±


    She glared at him before laying down on the grass. She stared up at the cloudy sky, feeling frustrated when Beau entered her line of sight again. Her mouth formed into a thin line as she thought of all the words she could say to hurt him. Instead, she said one thing that had been puzzling her since she saw that memory.


    ¡°What did I mean to you?¡±


    Beau looked at her, puzzled. ¡°What?¡±


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    ¡°Before you ruined my life. What did I mean to you?¡± She asked again, her voice barely above a whisper. He just looked at her, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. It was as if the question was too impossible for him to answer, and maybe it was.


    Ana didn¡¯t care at that point. She just wanted to rest her tired eyes, and she¡¯ll be damned if some stupid man keeps her from that. She closed her eyes, sighing in content as she let her fatigue pull her into dreamland, the sounds of the forest washing away until a single sound was left.


    ¡°¡­.I never knew, and I still can¡¯t answer that.¡±


    ¡ª_¡ª


    Something cold and wet dripped down onto Ana¡¯s face and she jolted awake. She blinked wearily, pushing the heavy blanket that was on her as she pushed herself into a sitting position.


    She was in the barn, in the same corner that she put Beau in when he first darkened her doorstep. Rainwater dripped from a crack somewhere above her and she moved an inch to the side as she gathered her thoughts.


    She passed out after the spell and Beau must¡¯ve carried her back here. He couldn¡¯t cross the porch¡¯s spell so he placed her in the barn so as to avoid the rain. He must¡¯ve left after dropping her here, as she didn¡¯t see any sign of him in the dark, cold barn.


    She sighed and stood from her spot, brushing off the dirt and grass from her clothes. She left the barn, stopping at the door when she realized just how much it was raining outside. Water slid down her roof in torrents and the pathway to the front porch was muddy and wet. She took a deep breath and braved the rain, running without stopping to the porch. She stomped up the steps and wrenched the door open, a half-drowned cat slinking between her legs to get inside before her. Jazzy yowled her complaints as Ana shut the door and dropped her bag onto the ground.


    ¡°I know, I¡¯m sorry. Dinner is an hour late and you¡¯re starving.¡±


    She fed the angry feline and searched through the fridge and cabinets to find herself something to eat. She didn¡¯t have an appetite, and none of the food in her kitchen looked appealing enough to force herself to eat. She still felt exhausted from the spell earlier, but now she could at least think properly.


    The spell didn¡¯t work like she thought it would, and now she was beginning to think she wasn¡¯t skilled enough to perform these kind of spells. Beau¡¯s glamour also was a problem. If he had told her from the beginning that he had the spell on his face, she wouldn¡¯t have exhausted herself trying to get the spell to work. Despite the glamour¡¯s attempt to stop her, she did get the spell to work and it showed her a multitude of things she still couldn¡¯t make sense of. Beau¡¯s mom made some mention of her core and his, but it also shed more light on what happened before the incident and why it happened. All those pieces had left her memory a long time ago, and it felt so strange to have them back. It was as if they were there in the back of her mind the whole time and she just simply chose not to be aware of them.


    Lightning bathed the dark kitchen in light and Ana felt her body tense just before a boom of thunder made her heart race. She never liked thunderstorms, and it seemed to get worse over the years, like her brain knew something that she didn¡¯t.


    It was ten o¡¯clock at night, which was enough of an excuse to go back to bed. As far as she was concerned she didn¡¯t have to work tomorrow, which meant she could sleep in and ignore the world for as long as she wanted¡­or until Marchosias decided to pay her a visit.


    ¡ª_¡ª


    Two days. Two days for him to show up after she sent the summons. She would¡¯ve been dead by now if it was an actual emergency.


    She felt him searching for her, using his mageia to locate hers. She was in the field of her dad¡¯s statues, kneeling next to his grave when the hair on the back of her neck raised.


    She sighed and looked at her dad¡¯s grave, placing the fresh flowers down. ¡°Do you still think I¡¯m doing the right thing? I pushed myself too far last time.¡±


    She didn¡¯t expect an answer, but it still felt nice to speak to someone, even if they were six feet in the ground.


    The crunch of sticks and leaves was the only sign she got that Marchosias was there. She turned around and looked up at him. He still wore the same black shirt and pants he always wore, his hair parted the same way. He never changed, it seemed.


    ¡°Nice of you to show up.¡± She stood from her spot and faced him.


    ¡°I was busy. What did you need?¡± He asked bluntly. No sorry or at least a petty excuse from him.


    ¡°Busy doing what?¡± She crossed her arms.


    He raised his head and narrowed his eyes. ¡°Searching. What did you need?¡±


    ¡°Nothing now. I did that summoning ritual two days ago, you know. How did you just now arrive? What if I was in danger?¡±


    He looked her up and down. ¡°You appear in good health. I¡¯m not concerned. Don¡¯t summon me unless it¡¯s absolutely important.¡±


    Ana scoffed and turned away from him. ¡°Cool. You don¡¯t care if I¡¯m in danger but you¡¯ll scratch fancy spells on my porch to keep people away.¡±


    ¡°That was for your safety. Need I remind you that there are Motloes running loose?¡±


    She turned back to Marchosias. He was looking at a statue of her mother, an old project her dad had made when they were still together. Her father looked up at it, his head slightly tilted. What was he thinking? ¡°You¡¯re pretty paranoid if you think they would just¡­walk into my living room. They probably know I¡¯m still in contact with you.¡±


    He didn¡¯t respond at first, but looked around at all the other statues. He had been here before, but never paid much attention to the statues. His sudden interest was strange to her. Why wasn¡¯t he focused on our conversation? Did he even care?


    ¡°The man who raised you is pretty pretentious if he decided to bury himself surrounded by all of his mundane art projects. I knew a thousand men in Italy and Greece who could sculpt better than him.¡±


    Ana narrowed her eyes at him, the insult hitting her like a punch to the gut. ¡°My dad may not have been Michelangelo, but he did a lot of things better than you ever did. Parenting, for one.¡±


    He finally turned to her. His gaze searched her face, but she didn¡¯t know what he was searching for. A lie? She wasn¡¯t lying. Her real father wasn¡¯t present in her childhood, and he didn¡¯t seem to feel guilty about that. He did, however, did seem insulted that his own daughter preferred a dead human man over him, her own flesh and blood.


    He looked down at her balled fists and his eyes locked down on her left hand. She looked down too and noticed that her hands were still bandaged. She meant to take it off and heal it with her mageia but had forgotten.


    He calmly walked over to her, his feet not making a sound. Ana stood in her spot, knowing if she backed away it would confirm to him that she was afraid of him, and she could never admit that. He took hold of her wrist and ripped off the bandages, holding her palm to the morning light. He examined the cuts on her palms before turning his purple gaze to her, his eyes full of questions.


    Ana grounded her teeth together. Don¡¯t lie. Don¡¯t lie. ¡°I was doing spells.¡±


    ¡°What spells?¡± He quickly replied.


    Shit. Shit. Fuck. ¡°Well, you can¡¯t seem to do your job, so I have been doing location spells¡­on the Motloes.¡±


    He was angry now.


    He wrenched her wrist away from him and leaned down. ¡°Do you realize what you¡¯re doing?! You can¡¯t do any of those spells. You¡¯re too weak! Besides, what are you going to do once you find them, huh? They have been trained by their father since they were small children, they are far more powerful than you! Do you want to get killed?¡±


    She was silent, not answering him. She didn¡¯t trust herself to not lie. She didn¡¯t know what else to say. He assumed she meant she was trying to find the brothers, when in reality she meant she was trying to find Emily Motloe, the mother.


    It seemed she didn¡¯t need to answer him anyway, as he looked at her and knew she found something. ¡°What did you see? What did the spells tell you, Ana?¡±


    She didn¡¯t answer. He grabbed her shoulders with both hands, not hard enough to hurt but still a strong enough grip to hold her in place. ¡°Analiese Kravens! What did you see?!¡±


    Her mouth drew into a thin line and she drew her brows together. Her heart pounded, and Beau¡¯s comment from yesterday repeated in her mind. He can hurt others around you.


    ¡°If you¡¯re so set on finding them,¡± She whispered, ¡°Why don¡¯t you do the location spell yourself? Why haven¡¯t you found them yet, hmm?¡±


    His mouth twitched, the smallest sign of his current emotions, but it was enough for Ana to know she had gone too far as she always did with Marchosias. He shook her shoulders violently and she closed her eyes, her vision becoming dizzy.


    ¡°Tell me, before I dig up that pathetic man¡¯s grave and show you his skeleton! Would you like that, hm? His skull as your mantelpiece? I bet he wouldn¡¯t mind seeing how much of a failure you have become!¡±¡¯


    ¡°Stop!¡± She cried, and he dropped her to the ground. She fell on her side, but quickly stood on her legs as he backed away from her.


    ¡°Tell me what you¡¯re hiding from me. Now.¡± It was his last warning, Ana knew. But how could she tell him that she made a deal with Beau Motloe? How could she tell him that she knew why they tried to kill her in that damned basement?


    ¡°I don¡¯t know where they are,¡± She seethed. That was the truth. She didn¡¯t know where they were at this current moment. The motel? Out of town? Five hundred miles away? Who knew. Not her. ¡°You know what I did see? Beau and his mother talking in the past. They were preparing for my death. You know what that means?¡±


    ¡°They wanted you dead. They¡¯re bad people.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Ana exclaimed. ¡°You had time to save me! You had time to get me out of that hellhole, but what you were doing?! Nothing! You knew they lived across the street from me! You knew they were dangerous and you did nothing!¡ª¡±


    A statue next to her imploded, and she screamed. Marble and dust went everywhere, covering her in shards and crumbs of a roman warrior. Another statue imploded before it was followed by another, shattering one after the other. Her dad¡¯s work was being destroyed, all because a demon couldn¡¯t control his anger and hate he had for his own daughter.


    ¡°Stop!¡± She cried, just before witnessing the statue of ravens looking down at her dad¡¯s grave were destroyed, just before the gravestone was shattered too. She let out a sob, tears streaming down her cheeks as she inhaled the marble and clay dust that now filled the air. She looked at the chaos around her, all the statues gone except for one. Her mother.


    Marchosias approached her again, and this time she backed away from him. With lightning speed, he grabbed her arms and pulled her towards him. He looked furious, his purple eyes glowing with malice and hate. This wasn¡¯t her father, but a demon. She had almost forgotten that part.


    ¡°Remember who saved you. Remember who got you out of that basement. Remember who has protected you these last few years. I think you¡¯ve forgotten all of those things along with your memories of what happened. Remember where your loyalties should lay, or I will leave you to the wolves.¡±


    He left, leaving a cloud of purple mist behind. Ana sobbed, her lips quivering as her hands reached out and grabbed onto a marble hand. She couldn¡¯t repair this damage. She didn¡¯t know how. She wasn¡¯t sure there was a spell to fix all the broken and shattered statues, but what was the point? Marchosias would just come and destroy it again to teach her another lesson.


    With blurry eyes, she turned to the statue of her mother, the only one left standing. Below it was a piece from another statue, a label that read memento . Remember you must die. If only Marchosias knew how. That¡¯s the only fate she wished for him now.

 Chapter 17: Machination

    The scanner beeped as Ana passed yet another can of food over it. She barely looked down at what she was scanning anymore, too tired to care how many cans of corned beef the customer bought. Deacon was to the left of her, bagging the groceries she placed on the table. He talked her ear off about one of his nights in Lexingside, but Ana didn¡¯t care much to pay attention. He acted as if that day in her driveway never happened, like he never said those hurtful words to her. Ana didn¡¯t have the patience for him currently, and so he was left ignored.


    ¡°That¡¯ll be thirty-seven dollars and four cents in change, ma¡¯am.¡± Ana said in a cheery voice, flashing a fake smile to the old lady.


    ¡°So I was thinking¡­¡± Deacon began, and Ana sighed. ¡°You and me, go to a bar. We don¡¯t even have to go to Lexingside, we can just stay in this town.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± She handed the receipt to the old woman. ¡°Have a good day.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be so eager to say no, now. It can just be us! And maybe afterwards¡­¡±


    Their boss approached them, his beer belly almost bulging out of his shirt. ¡°There are boxes piled up near the back door. Can that be taken care of, please?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Ana quickly responded, not giving Deacon time to respond or volunteer as she walked to the employees only area.


    She grabbed the pile of cardboard boxes near the back door and pushed it open. The warm afternoon air hit her as she walked outside, the sound of cicadas a stark contrast to the quiet store.


    She smashed the boxes and threw them into the dumpster, one by one. When she was done, she leaned against the dumpster and rubbed her face, trying to wipe away the exhaustion of the day. When she was younger and still dealing with the turmoil of her dad¡¯s death and her memory loss, she would spend these stressful work days smoking near the dumpster during breaks. She worked at a diner when she was eighteen, and would steal smokes from her co-workers. Despite the grief and stress she was dealing with, things seemed simpler back then. Much simpler, and much stress-free with a cigarette between her fingers¡­


    She shook the thoughts away and pushed herself off of the dumpster. She went to turn back to the door, but something to her right caught her eye. She turned to see Judas, standing with his arms crossed and looking at her. A dull hum followed his arrival.


    ¡°Working minimum wage at a shitty grocery store. Maybe you aren¡¯t doing any better than us.¡± He jeered with a smile.


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    ¡°I¡¯m not speaking to you. Go find someone else to pick on.¡± She turned away from him and back to the door.


    ¡°Woah, , wait. Has Beau not told you what happened, yet? Two spells and he hasn¡¯t told you?¡± Judas voice pitched higher, and Ana turned around to throw a retort until she realized he was right. Beau hadn¡¯t told her anything yet, despite getting an almost exact approximation of his mother¡¯s location. It was just two days ago that they had done the location spell, but Ana hadn¡¯t seen Beau since. It was possible he was too embarrassed to show his face around her.


    She shrugged and tucked her hands in her pockets, appearing nonchalant. ¡°So what? Beau thinks she¡¯s being kept somewhere in Canada. I don¡¯t care much about the memories, seeing as I¡¯m in enough trouble with my father as it is. Take him and get out of my hair.¡±


    ¡°Canada¡ª¡± He bent over laughing, his laugh sounding like a cacophony against the sound of cicadas. ¡°That¡¯s a good one, really.¡±


    Ana grinded her teeth together and looked away. ¡°It¡¯s what we found.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t find squat, and don¡¯t give me shit about not wanting your memories, because the only reason you¡¯ve been putting up with the both of us¡ª¡±


    ¡°I have been putting up with you,¡± Ana interjected, raising her voice, ¡°Beau hasn¡¯t been throwing taunts and jabs at me the entire time! He has the intelligence to know when to stop bothering me, unlike you.¡±


    He threw a hand into the air. ¡°Good for him! He hasn¡¯t been losing sleep over the thought of your father finding and killing us, but instead he¡¯s been losing sleep over how to tell you how we all got into that basement.¡±


    She narrowed her eyes and glared at him, taking her hands out of her pockets to cross her arms. ¡°If you want me to know so desperately, then why don¡¯t you tell me yourself?¡±


    Judas calmed, a small smile forming on his face as he looked at Ana. ¡°That¡¯s not my job. Besides, I¡¯m sure Beau would be upset I told you before he could.¡± He started to back away into the alley he must¡¯ve come from. ¡°If you want to know some secrets, maybe you should look a little closer to home.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve already asked my father, and he hasn¡¯t been any more help than Beau has.¡±


    Judas shook his head before turning away from her. ¡°Not him, your co-worker. I¡¯m surprised Beau hasn¡¯t said anything, seeing how he is so concerned over your safety. Toodles!¡±


    Deacon? He¡¯s hiding something from me? It would make sense. His persistence on being near her at all times was questionable, not to mention the letters in his glove box he insisted were just boring family letters. Did they mean something more? What did Judas know that I don¡¯t?


    She walked back into the store and started searching for Deacon. He wasn¡¯t at the cash register, or the break room. Where could he have possibly gone to?


    She found her boss fixing a wet floor sign near the dairy aisle and approached him. ¡°Have you seen Deacon anywhere?¡±


    The old man sighed. ¡°He left early, said he had a family emergency. Family emergency my ass¡­¡±


    Family emergency. Deacon didn¡¯t have family in this town, and she had never seen or heard any mention of any family. He never called them while she was around, and the only mention he ever made was in his stories she only half-listened to. Had he overheard her conversation with Judas?


    As she finished her shift, she began to formulate a plan in her head. She had to find a way to read those letters, even if she had to spend the night with him. She could go to the bar with him like he wanted to, woo him enough so can ask if she could stay the night. If his parents or whoever was sending those letters had been sending them regularly, then she was sure there was more in that trailer of his. She has been there more times than she could count, but she didn¡¯t remember any fancy envelopes sitting anywhere.


    As she walked to her truck she texted Deacon a message. Silverhorn Bar. 7 pm. Don¡¯t be late or I¡¯ll go home. She got into her truck and started the engine.


    He replied within a few minutes. A winky face and nothing else. He has a family emergency, but also enough time to go to the bar with me?


    She rolled her eyes and put on her seat belt. Work was over, and she had an hour to get ready for the sloppy mess she called a plan.

 Chapter 18: Bedlam

    Everything had to be perfect, but also, imperfect.


    She considered wearing a dress she knew Deacon liked, but decided against it. She didn¡¯t want to appear too excited for this date, it would look too suspicious. She decided instead to just wear dark green bell bottoms and a unbuttoned chiffon top tucked into her pants. The tight cuffs of the lantern sleeves made her wrists itch, making her regret not choosing another shirt before leaving the house. Her makeup was done in a simple style, just eyeliner and mascara.


    She approached the bar and sat next to a chattering group of girls who seemed to be celebrating a birthday or some other event. Ana started to look around for the bartender when she felt someone bump into her shoulder.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry hon¡ªAna! I haven¡¯t seen you in forever!¡±


    Ana turned to look at the girl closest to her. Bright blue eyes, with freckles covering her skin. Ana searched her memory and realized it was Charlotte Brooks, a girl she talked to a few times in high school. She was apart of the cheer leading team and was often at parties that Ana was at. They didn¡¯t keep in touch when high school ended, but it was nice to see at least one of her classmates flourish.


    ¡°Charlotte, how have you been? Are you still with that Kevin guy?¡± Ana smiled. I have time to talk. Deacon hasn¡¯t come yet.


    Charlotte raised her hand and showed off an emerald ring on her ring finger. ¡°Sure am! Married after graduation, and we just had a baby a year ago. Isn¡¯t that exciting?¡±


    Ana nodded enthusiastically. ¡°That¡¯s great. I¡¯m happy for you. I assume you¡¯re here for a celebration or something?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s my birthday, actually.¡± The freckled woman took a sip of her drink before setting it down on the bar. ¡°Hey, we¡¯re actually heading down to the lake soon and going for a late-night dip. You¡¯re welcome to join us!¡±


    Ana smiled softly before shaking her head. ¡°No, I¡¯m good. I¡¯m actually meeting someone here.¡± Her eyes went to the drink Charlotte set down. It was an amber color, with a lime stuck on the rim. It was almost gone, and an idea popped in Ana¡¯s head. ¡°That looks good. What is that?¡±


    The bartender finally approached her. A frazzled, fatigued woman who looked like she was already done with her shift. Surely someone who wouldn¡¯t notice a mistake or two. ¡°What can I get ya, hon?¡±


    Ana pointed to Charlotte¡¯s drink. ¡°Can I get what she has?¡±


    The bartender nodded and got to work making a drink.


    ¡°It¡¯s good, you¡¯ll like it.¡± Charlotte hopped down from her seat before laying down a couple bills on the bar. ¡°Me and my friends are going to the lake. Enjoy your date!¡±


    Ana waved goodbye, but her smile faded as soon as she left. Charlotte has a great life, a far better one than mine. She turned back to the bar and took a sip of her drink. I could¡¯ve had that if I didn¡¯t have Marchosias as a father. That could¡¯ve been me getting married and having a baby.


    She shook the envious thoughts away and returned to the present. She watched the distracted bartender zip around, getting drinks for the people sitting at the bar and making conversation when she could. When she was distracted with an old man on the far side of the bar, Ana took the chance and switched her full drink with Charlotte¡¯s near-empty one.


    It was something she noticed about Deacon over the months they¡¯ve seen each other. He was willing to take risks and be more flirty if he knew Ana had drank more. A disgusting habit, but it was one Ana had regrettably encouraged. She was too lost in herself to care that the man she was taking to bed thought he was taking advantage of her. She wasn¡¯t lost now. She had a plan, and she will find out what he is hiding from her.


    Somebody sat in the seat next to her, and she turned to see Deacon. Dressed in a plain gray t-shirt and faded jeans, he appeared as if he had picked the least wrinkled clothing off of the floor. And here I spent almost an hour getting ready. I should¡¯ve just put on a trash bag or something.


    He looked her up and down before motioning to the bartender. ¡°Why the sudden change of heart?¡±


    ¡°Got bored.¡± She looked away from him and took a sip of her drink. He ordered a beer and took a large sip.


    ¡°You got bored, and I was your first thought?¡± He teased.


    She rolled her eyes and bit back a retort. Be nice. You¡¯re supposed to be nice. ¡°Maybe. Maybe not.¡±


    ¡°Did you get bored of your guy friend already? What did you say his name was?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t.¡± She stared down at her drink, the warped reflection in the amber liquid staring back at her. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen him in a few days.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Interesting.¡±


    Ana turned to him and studied his face, but could not discern what he meant by interesting. Was he expecting another answer? It doesn¡¯t matter. I need to change the subject before he gets jealous again.


    ¡°You left work early for a¡­family emergency?¡± She asked.


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    ¡°False alarm. My mom thought she was having a heart attack.¡± He murmured before taking a sip of his drink.


    Bad liar. Can¡¯t tell a lie to save your life. Ana drank the rest of ¡®her¡¯ drink and set it down on the wooden surface.


    ¡°You know,¡± He set his beer down and leaned into her, his breath on her neck. ¡°Your friend was staring at us while we were talking. He didn¡¯t look very happy about me.¡±


    ¡°This again?¡± She pretended to not feel disgusted with how close he was to her. ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk about him. I thought this night was just for us.¡±


    He snaked an arm around her waist and she tried her best to not flinch away. He leaned in closer and pressed his lips to her neck. ¡°You¡¯re right. Just us. So why don¡¯t we just go back to my place and relax?¡±


    She smiled, but this time it was genuine. So close to those letters. I¡¯m almost there.


    She payed her tab and followed him outside, holding hands. It was night, and there was barely any traffic on the roads. The stormy clouds that had hung over them for the past few days were now gone, and the night sky was a naked and dark expanse of nothingness.


    Deacon led her to his truck and unlocked the doors. She opened the passenger door and set her purse on the floor.


    ¡°Need help?¡± Deacon offered a hand for her.


    She gave him an incredulous look. ¡°Since when have I needed your help?¡±


    ¡°Just trying to be a gentleman¡­¡±


    She pulled herself into the truck and closed the door. Deacon walked to the driver side but stopped halfway and turned his head. A person called his name and now approached him. They both appeared friendly toward one another, and Ana assumed they were friends.


    She looked down at the glove box. Would it be possible he still had them in there? She opened the glove box and¡­no. The letters were gone. Just a screwdriver, a pen, and some loose receipts. Damn it.


    She shut the glove box just as Deacon finished talking to the person. Ana attempted to act casual as he opened the door and pulled himself into the truck. ¡°Sorry, an old friend.¡±


    ¡°You have friends? Surprising.¡± She commented.


    ¡°Funny.¡± He looked at her as he started the truck, glancing at her cleavage briefly before pulling on his seat belt. Ana pulled the sides of her unbuttoned shirt together and looked away. I can do this. I can still do this.


    ¡ª_¡ª


    She entered the cramped fifth wheel and set her purse on the small table. ¡°I still think it smells like roaches in here.¡±


    ¡°Roaches don¡¯t have a smell.¡± Deacon shut the door behind him and fixed his gaze on her.


    Ana walked to the kitchen and took an apple from a bag laying on the counter. ¡°How would you know? You grew up rich. Have you ever seen one?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± He approached her and placed a hand on her waist. ¡°I¡¯m looking at one right now.¡±


    ¡°Oh, hilarious.¡± She took a bite of the apple and chewed, an excuse to delay the inevitable; his thin, dry lips on hers. ¡°Is that how you¡¯re going to get me into your bed? Jokes?¡±


    He smiled, his face mere inches from hers. He smelled as he always does; like cigarettes and cheap men¡¯s cologne. Or expensive men¡¯s cologne, she could never tell. ¡°I can think of something else.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Ana replied, but that was the only word she could get out before his lips met hers. His breath tasted like cigarettes on her tongue, and she forced herself not to turn away from him. It was obvious he tried to hide with some kind of mint gum or tablet, but that didn¡¯t work.


    His hands went to her cheeks to hold her in place. She tried to reciprocate the kiss as much as possible, but there was the smallest feeling of disgust laying in the pit of her stomach. She attempted to ignore it, but it only grew as his tongue found his way inside of her mouth.


    One hand went down to her lower back, and he pushed her back into the counter. His other hand went under her shirt, to her breasts. He cupped one of them, and Ana regretted not wearing anything more than pasties. His lips went down to her neck to suck at the skin there, the hand at her waist squeezing her.


    Ana didn¡¯t know where to place her hands, but she had to act like she enjoyed this, she had to. Do I? Is this really worth the next hour of disgust? She ending up placing them on his neck as he lifted his head to kiss her on the mouth.


    She couldn¡¯t take it. Everything about him made her feel disgusted. His sweaty hands, the weird breathing sounds he made, the way his eyes were half-closed. How could I do this in the past? This was a terrible plan. I hate him, and I want him off of me.


    She moved her head away from him, and lightly pushed on his shoulders. ¡°Deacon¡ª¡±


    Fortunately, he moved away and looked at her, although he didn¡¯t look happy. ¡°What?¡±


    She opened her mouth, searching for an excuse. I still want to find those letters, but I don¡¯t want to sleep with him. ¡°Can you wash up first, before we do this? Your breath smells, and it¡¯s really not doing anything for me.¡±


    He sighed and looked away from her, rolling his lips in thought. He backed away from her and stalked into the bathroom. ¡°Fine.¡±


    That was easier than I thought. She didn¡¯t waist any time. As she heard the bathroom door shut and the sink turn on, she started searching. She first looked on the table pushed to the side, but there was nothing on there except for a stained coffee cup and a paper plate. She searched the cabinets next, her heart racing as she tried to pay attention to the running faucet in the bathroom. There was nothing in the cabinets except for a meager amount of non-perishables, as if Deacon didn¡¯t expect to have any guests in his fifth-wheel. No fancy envelopes with wax seals anywhere. Where was he hiding them? Did he throw them all away? She hadn¡¯t thought of that possibility. It was quite possible that he threw them all away after she snooped through his glove box after their diner date.


    She spun in a circle, looking around the room for any possible hiding place to keep letters. He had a chest next to the couch, but it was locked tight and she didn¡¯t know any spells to get it open. They have to be hidden somewhere¡ªwait. What¡¯s that? She kneeled down next to the table and looked under it. A small wooden box, shoved up against the wall. Big enough to hide letter-sized objects. She reached under and pulled it out, looking at the bathroom to make sure Deacon was still busy. She could still hear the sink running, and she could hear an electric toothbrush being used. That¡¯s probably the first time he¡¯s brushed his teeth today, she rolled her eyes and opened the box, her hands stilling at the sight of the envelopes.


    She picked one up and ran a thumb over the broken wax seal. What are you hiding, Deacon? She took the paper out and began reading.


    Deacon Carbonneau,


    Your father insists you come back. You have had two years to complete this mission and have done nothing but mess around with this woman. Everybody here is still skeptical on whether or not your claims that she is a double-core cambion are true. Whatever the case, we can¡¯t take in a uncategorized cambion that is unwilling to join the Creed of Solomon. She isn¡¯t even willing to be in a committed relationship with you. If it¡¯s true that you¡¯ve been trying to get her pregnant as you say you have, then¡ª


    ¡°What¡­?¡± Ana¡¯s hands shook as she dropped the letter and reached into the box for another one. The sink in the bathroom turned off. She didn¡¯t have time to read another one, but she couldn¡¯t stop. This letter was dated earlier than the last one, around five months ago.


    Deacon Carbonneau,


    In regards to your claim in your last letter, there is no record of a double-core cambion ever existing. Every cambion has a single core, you know that. You have made a mistake. There is no other way to explain it. Your father will have your head for lying, you know how he feels about that.


    If, however, you somehow are telling the truth, then I encourage you to take this girl. Get close to her and wrap her around your finger. You mentioned her core is a dark purple and dark orange? We only have two demons under those colors, Marchosias and Phenex, and they are both very rare and exceptional. We have no way of knowing if one or both of these demons are present in her life, but do you realize the risk of provoking them?


    Alas, I digress. I know you are skilled and know what you¡¯re doing. I trained you after all. Even if she doesn¡¯t have a double core, we still must categorize her¡ª


    Tears formed at Ana¡¯s eyes as she processed the information, the letter crumpling in her grip. He knew all along that I was a cambion, and he¡¯s apart of the Creed of Solomon. Had Judas known all of this? Is this what he was trying to tell me?


    The bathroom door opened and closed. Ana lowered the letter and looked at Deacon, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. ¡°You just love going through my stuff, don¡¯t you?¡±


    Ana¡¯s lips quivered, and she willed herself to stop crying. ¡°What do they mean? The letters, what do they mean?¡±


    He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. ¡°What do you think they mean? They¡¯re in your hands, you¡¯re reading them. You tell me.¡±


    She let the paper fall from her hands. ¡°You¡¯ve been lying to me this whole time.¡±


    He tilted his head and scratched his neck. ¡°Lying? About what, exactly? You¡¯ve never asked me outright if I was a cambion, or if I was apart of a secret civilization tasked with capturing all the demons in the world.¡±


    ¡°You had me believing one thing over the other. Isn¡¯t that the same? Isn¡¯t that still lying?¡± The tears wouldn¡¯t stop. She wanted them to stop, but they wouldn¡¯t. Weakling, she thought. You¡¯re a weakling.


    ¡°Would you at least¡­hear me out? You read the letters, you know what my goal is.¡± He walked closer to her and kneeled down. ¡°I think it would be¡­beneficial, for the both of us, and all of humanity.¡±


    She pushed the box aside and stood up on shaky legs. She grabbed her purse from the table and left the trailer, wanting nothing more than this to be a nightmare.

 Chapter 19: Lacuna

    Much to Ana¡¯s discontent, Deacon followed her out of the trailer.


    ¡°There¡¯s something I¡¯ve always wondered,¡± He called out to her. ¡°Why has your father not killed me yet? I¡¯ve been to your house a thousand times and yet¡­he seems to never be there. I wonder why that is?¡±


    ¡°My father¡¯s dead.¡± Ana replied, whipping around to look at him.


    ¡°Not that one,¡± A small smile crept up on his face. ¡°The one with the same eyes as yours.¡±


    He knows I¡¯m a cambion, of course he also knows I don¡¯t have a human father. It was true that Marchosias never mentioned Deacon, or even asked about him. He didn¡¯t seem to care about her love life, and Ana was always okay with that. She almost wished he had asked now, or maybe even feigned interest.


    She set her gaze on Deacon. ¡°What do you want from me? Why am I so important?¡±


    He crossed his arms. ¡°What everyone wants. A greater purpose to their life. You can be that greater purpose, you know, if only you listen to me¡­¡±


    ¡°What purpose is that?¡± She splayed her hands. ¡°Being an incubator for your ugly spawn?¡±


    He laughed, putting his hands on his hips. ¡°I don¡¯t think you understand. Think about it. I take you to my family¡¯s facility, and your father can¡¯t hurt you. All demons are secretly afraid of the Creed of Solomon, did you know that? We¡¯re the only things they won¡¯t go near.¡±


    Ana¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line. ¡°And, what? I go with you and I give up my body for the sake of humanity?¡±


    ¡°Well, yes. You¡¯re not seeing the bigger picture here. If we have a child, they would be so powerful that they could rival against the demons and possibly even do the things that only they can do. Isn¡¯t that exciting? For hundreds of years, the demons have killed our kind just for the fact that we were similar to them. Now, we have a chance, Ana. That¡¯s something you¡¯ll never have with your father, to be better than him.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± She slowly shook her head and backed away. ¡°Don¡¯t ever come near me again. Don¡¯t text me, don¡¯t call me, don¡¯t even come to my house. I don¡¯t want to see your disgusting face ever again.¡±


    He laughed as she turned and walked down the dirt road, away from him and all his dark secrets.


    ¡ª_¡ª


    Ana walked home. This wasn¡¯t her first time making a trek across town back to her own house. On some nights when her phone was dead but she still wanted to leave Deacon¡¯s place before he awoke, she made the one-and-a-half hour journey back to her own home. The current journey wasn¡¯t too bad, anyway. It gave her time to think, and to cry.


    The streets were quiet, and nobody bothered her as she made her way home. Street lights marked her way, but as she started walking on the lone, desolate road that led to her house, she was left with only her phone¡¯s flashlight to guide her way. She had taken off her wedge heels about halfway and now was bare foot, cursing at every stone and stick she stepped on. Despite that, she didn¡¯t give in and call a ride. She didn¡¯t feel like waiting for one now that she was so close to home.


    The woods at night were nothing to mess with, and Ana knew that now more than ever. On both sides she could here animals she couldn¡¯t see stalk through the woods. A fox¡¯s scream to her left, a owl¡¯s call as it flies above her. No cars traveled this road at night, as it only let to her home and a few abandoned properties.


    When she saw the solar lights of her driveway she sighed in relief, but stopped in her tracks when she noticed a figure standing just at the beginning of the driveway, next to her mailbox. Her first thought was Deacon, but no. The person was too broad and big to be Deacon, who was more on the scrawny side.


    Beau. Why was he waiting for her, in the middle of the night? She must look terrible to him. Her makeup was most likely smeared from all the crying, and her hair¡ªshe couldn¡¯t even think of what her hair looked like.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    She approached him wearily, turning off her phone¡¯s flashlight so that he couldn¡¯t see her face as well. She didn¡¯t really care what she looked like to him, but it was less questions that way.


    ¡°You know how creepy you look, standing there?¡± She croaked out, her voice feeling weary from crying.


    By the dim glow of the solar lights, he looked hurt. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I thought it was better to approach you from the front than the back, or the dark.¡±


    She sighed. He was right. Him standing menacingly in the dim light of her driveway was better than appearing suddenly from the trees. She didn¡¯t tell him that, though. She didn¡¯t have the energy.


    She started walking down her driveway, wincing as the small gravel stones dug into her feet. She didn¡¯t give up however, and kept on walking as if there wasn¡¯t small pebbles stabbing into the soft flesh of her feet.


    ¡°I only came because I¡­I was concerned. Judas mentioned he pushed you to¡­speak to your friend?¡± Beau said, following behind her.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± Ana gritted her teeth.


    ¡°I¡¯m not dull. I can see that something happened. Can¡¯t you at least tell me?¡±


    She whipped around. ¡°Nothing¡ª¡± She bit back a yelp when a particularly sharp rock dug into the soft flesh of her feet. She let out a breath before turning around and continued up the drive.


    ¡°Ana¡­¡±


    His voice made her stop. It reminded her of something else, of a time long ago. Had they been in the same situation before? No, they couldn¡¯t have.


    She felt tears well up in her eyes and she squeezed them shut. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Beau approached her side.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me that Deacon was a cambion?¡± She repeated.


    He hesitates, his mouth opening and closing. ¡°I thought¡ªI thought you already knew. Judas didn¡¯t tell me about your affliction to not sensing cambions until a few hours ago. If¡ªif I knew when I first saw Deacon, I would¡¯ve warned you.¡±


    Ana bit her tongue, fighting back a cruel comment. I was supposed to tell this whole fucking time? She looked away and continued her way to the porch. Which could only mean Deacon could tell the first time he laid eyes on me. ¡°He¡¯s apart of the Creed of Solomon. His whole fucking family is. He¡¯s been sending them information about me for the past two years, so yeah. They know that I¡¯m here.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t stay here then. Large cambion families work like wolf packs; you provoke one, you provoke the rest.¡± Beau said, his voice becoming rushed and anxious. ¡°With your¡­affliction, you won¡¯t be able to tell who is hunting.¡±


    Ana sighed in relief when she stepped up onto her wooden porch. She was free from the gravel driveway, but now faced a different problem; There were pebbles embedded in her feet. She sat down on the steps, throwing her shoes and purse to the side.


    Jazzy appeared from under the porch, meowing her discontent at her owner¡¯s lateness. She first went over to Ana and sniffed her dirty and bloody feet before turning her nose up and sauntering over to Beau. She nudged his legs with her nose, and he bent over to scratch behind her ears. Ana looked away, only a little jealous at the cat¡¯s sudden preference.


    ¡°I learned something else, something I feel you should¡¯ve told me from the start.¡± Ana said, wincing as she pulled a sharp rock from her foot. I am starting to regret not just calling for a ride. She threw it to the side and looked up to Beau¡¯s pale face. ¡°What¡¯s this about me having a double-core? Purple and orange, or something?¡±


    Beau bit his lip and looked away. He stood up, Jazzy forgotten near his feet. ¡°I¡¯m¡ªI¡¯m sorry, I¡­¡± He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to say this¡­¡±


    ¡°Just say it. Explain it to me.¡± Ana pushed, crossing her arms.


    Beau sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. ¡°Your core¡­did something when we first met. It¡ªit basically reached out and absorbed parts of mine¡ªwhen¡ªsix years ago, when you moved into your mom¡¯s. None of us knew it would happen¡ªnot even my father.¡±


    He looked nervous, his eyes down on the ground and his hands holding the back of his neck.


    ¡°Why wasn¡¯t I told any of this? I don¡¯t understand¡­¡± Ana whispered. She didn¡¯t know what to think. She didn¡¯t know what to say. Her and Beau were connected, and she couldn¡¯t do anything about it. Is that why my father acted so cold to me? Does he know, too?


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, and I¡¯m sorry. I really am sorry. I didn¡¯t want any of this to happen, especially not to you.¡± His scratchy voice cut through her voice, and she slowly looked up at him. His face looked sorrowful and genuine, and Ana hated that. She wished he was still the murderous monster she had painted in her mind for the past six years, not the soft man who stood before her.


    ¡°Your family tried to kill me just because of something I couldn¡¯t control, didn¡¯t you?¡± Ana murmured, just for the sake of feeling some kind of control of her own mind. You¡¯re still a monster, Beau Motloe. You have to be. That¡¯s what is still in my mind, and it¡¯s what makes sense.


    Beau slowly shook his head, wringing his hands together. ¡°No. There¡¯s more to it then that. I promise you.¡±


    Ana glared at him. ¡°You won¡¯t tell me what happened, remember? Judas says you¡¯re cowardly, and for once I agree with him.¡± She grabbed hold of the railing and pulled herself up. ¡°So for now you¡¯re a bunch of sadists in my mind, and it¡¯ll stay that way until I know what happened.¡±


    She picked up her purse and shoes and fished for her keys while she walked to the door. She unlocked the door and opened it, Jazzy chirping as she ran inside and down the hall.


    ¡°Ana. Wait.¡±


    She stopped. She didn¡¯t turn around, but she didn¡¯t go inside either. She heard the crinkle of paper and Beau taking a single step forward.


    ¡°Take this. If you¡¯re in danger, just use this spell. I can be there¡ªI¡¯ll be there.¡±


    Ana slowly turned around and looked at the folded piece of paper he held out to her. He was anxious, the fingers of his free hand rubbing together as he licked his lips. When she didn¡¯t respond or reach for the paper, he waved it in the air.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡ªit¡¯s faster than your father¡¯s summoning ritual, and you don¡¯t need all the things for it. It¡¯s just chalk and an incantation. I won¡¯t¡ªI¡¯m not as fast as your father, but it might be better than taking a gamble on whether or not your father will show up.¡±


    She didn¡¯t move for a few more seconds, but after some careful consideration, she stepped towards him and took the paper, his gloved fingers briefly touching hers. He stepped away from the porch, appearing relieved that she took the paper.


    ¡°I¡ªI¡¯ll leave you alone now.¡±


    He disappeared into the night, and Ana walked into her home. She closed the door and locked it, sighing in relief at the familiar and comforting feeling of her house. She turned on the hallway light and unfolding the paper, reading it¡¯s contents. Beau was right, it was a very simple spell, requiring the reader to only draw a demon¡¯s sigil on the ground and say the summoning incantation with the demon¡¯s name¡ªPhenex. A familiar name, and yet Ana couldn¡¯t recall where she heard it from. She shrugged, folded the paper, stuffed it into her pocket and walked to her bathroom, ready to take a shower and scrub off the dirt and grime of the night.

 Chapter 20: Taciturn

    A week passes, and not a single sound from Deacon, or even the Motloes.


    Ana quit her job and blocked Deacon from her phone. He hadn¡¯t tried to show up, which she was thankful for. She wasn¡¯t ready to start another job yet, and so she spent the next seven days tending to her garden and watching TV. Logan and Cora had invited for a night out on Friday but she had declined, claiming she was sick. It was a lie, but it was better than telling them Deacon had been secretly sending her private information to his super rich and super secret family, and now she was afraid to go outside.


    Her mother had also called her, sounding distressed and still sick. She told Ana not to make Marchosias mad, which confused her. She hadn¡¯t seen him since the day next to her dad¡¯s grave. Had he visited her mom without seeing Ana too? Her mother hung up before she could get an answer.


    After seven days of not seeing anybody, she decided to pay Beau a visit and prayed Judas wouldn¡¯t be there. She hadn¡¯t seen Beau since he gave her that paper with the spell on it, but she didn¡¯t have any reason to use it.


    She knocked on his motel door, and waited. The sun beat down on her, and she wiped a sheen of sweat off of her forehead. She wished it would rain again, and the sun to hide away too. She hated summer.


    After a few minutes of silence, she pounded on the door and listened for any movement inside. None. It was afternoon, which meant the brothers should¡¯ve been awake by now. Had they gone somewhere? Where could they have possibly gone in the middle of the afternoon? Beau didn¡¯t make any mention of leaving the last time she saw him.


    A maid passed by with a cart full of cleaning supplies, and Ana stopped her. ¡°Excuse me, do you know who¡¯s been staying in this room? Have you seen them?¡±


    The old lady looked at her, and then the room she was pointing at. ¡°No, ma¡¯am. You must be mistaken. Nobody has stayed in that room in three weeks.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Ana glanced at the door. ¡°But¡­I¡¯ve been in here. There were two brothers staying here.¡±


    The maid shrugged, and continued pushing the cart. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Nobody has stayed in there in awhile, I would know.¡±


    They did leave, then. Without telling her. Beau had used a spell on the motel staff and made them forget they were ever there, maybe to cover their tracks. Wouldn¡¯t he have warned her first? Or maybe he found out where his mother was, and left before he could complete their deal?


    A spark of anger rushed through her, and she gritted her teeth. Of course he was never going to tell me. Why did I expect any different from him?


    Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out. It was Logan, asking if she wanted to go out tonight. Ana thought about it, her finger tapping the side of her phone. Was there really any harm now? She hadn¡¯t seen Deacon in a week, and she was dying for a good distraction from all this mess.


    She smiled at the thought of a good drink and music loud enough to block out her own thoughts, and texted her friend back.


    ¡ª_¡ª


    Ana downed another shot and squeezed her eyes shut at the bitter taste. She set the shot glass down on the table the same time as Logan and Cora. The roar of the music reverberated in her chest, and she could barely hear the sound of her friend¡¯s voices over it, but by their smiling faces she knew they were happy.


    She, however, felt nervous ever since she walked into the club. She had planned wholeheartedly to get drunk tonight, but now she didn¡¯t feel comfortable enough to do that. She felt as if somebody had been watching her this whole time, but it was hard to tell in such a crowded area. She had only two shots in the two hours she had been there but she was too afraid to take any more. She didn¡¯t have a good feeling how this night would end.


    Cora nudged her shoulder and leaned towards her ear. ¡°You seem a little down tonight.¡±


    Ana shrugged. ¡°I just feel weird, that¡¯s all.¡±


    Ana had only known Cora for a few years. She had met her at a bar in Lexingside, during one of her and Logan¡¯s bar-hopping sessions and they have been friends ever since. She owned a business here, some kind of shop that sold locally-made goat soap and lotion.


    Cora smiled, the shorter strands of her curly brown hair falling into her face. ¡°Well, it¡¯s good that you came out! I knew you were sick a few days ago.¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± Logan poked Ana¡¯s arm and leaned against the table, already appearing tipsy after four shots. ¡°If I see¡ªIf I see Deacon within a twenty-feet radius of you, I¡¯m clocking him in the face.¡±


    Ana laughed and quickly shook her head. ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry! I¡¯m done with him, I promise. Besides, he¡¯s not here.¡±


    Logan raised her eyebrows and pointed to her left. Ana followed the direction of her finger and spotted Deacon appearing out of the crowd, as if summoned by Logan¡¯s mention of him. Ana sighed and rubbed her face. ¡°Okay, look¡ªNo fist-fighting.¡±


    Logan shrugged and turned to Deacon, stepping in front of Ana. ¡°No promises.¡±


    Deacon approached Logan and tried to speak to her, but she shook her head at anything he said. Ana couldn¡¯t hear their conversation over the loud music, but she assumed Deacon wanted to speak with her again, and Logan didn¡¯t want that. Ana didn¡¯t feel like speaking to him, their last conversation still weighing heavy on her mind, but it seemed like Deacon wasn¡¯t going to give up.


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    Ana tapped Logan¡¯s shoulder, and her friend turned around. ¡°Let me talk to him. Just for a few minutes, and then I¡¯ll run him off.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Logan exclaimed. ¡°I¡¯m not letting you do anything with this worm¡ªNot tonight!¡±


    ¡°Just a small talk,¡± Ana replied. ¡°You can watch us.¡±


    Logan gave her a disappointed look, but backed away. Ana didn¡¯t look at Deacon as she walked to the far side of the club, but she knew he was following her. She leaned against the wall and turned back to him, her arms crossed. ¡°Make it quick.¡±


    He smiled, tucking his hands into his pockets. ¡°Well, I thought I could wait until you cooled down to speak to you again, see if you changed your mind.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the stupidest person I know.¡± She started to walk away from him. ¡°I told you to stop talking to me.¡±


    He grabbed her arm and she immediately wrenched it from his grip. She turned back towards him, teeth barred. ¡°You have some nerve¡ª¡±


    ¡°Do I? I don¡¯t think you get. Your father doesn¡¯t care about you. Once he is done using you for whatever it is he¡¯s doing, he¡¯ll throw you away like trash! I¡¯m offering you safety, Ana! You can¡¯t get that anywhere else.¡±


    ¡°Safety?¡± Ana exclaimed over the loud music. ¡°Safety in exchange for what? Fulfilling your fantasy of having a super-cambion for a child?! I won¡¯t be the one to do that because guess what? I don¡¯t get periods. I can¡¯t have children. One of the potential risks of being a first-born cambion. Maybe you should¡¯ve asked me that before making assumptions.¡±


    He glared at her, his cold gray eyes glaring into hers. He didn¡¯t look so confident now, his carefree demeanor now replaced with a serious look. He turned his nose up at her and set his shoulders back. ¡°I¡¯m still offering you safety. My family would still be interested in your double core¡­I know I am.¡±


    A dark arm came in between them and pushed Ana back. Logan moved in between them, facing Deacon. ¡°That¡¯s enough. You¡¯ve both had your little talk, now you need to leave.¡±


    Deacon scowled as he looked down at Logan, not pleased with her interruption. ¡°Maybe you should leave too. They told me about your second strike.¡±


    ¡°Go.¡± Logan pressed, and Deacon stormed out after a few moments of glaring. She visibly relaxed and turned back to Ana.


    ¡°Second strike? What is he talking about?¡± Ana asked, wrapping her arms around herself.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Logan shook her head and smiled, placing her hands on Ana¡¯s arms. ¡°Why don¡¯t we get back to Cora?¡±


    Ana hesitated. ¡°I¡­I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m not feeling that well. I might just go home early.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± She blinked. ¡°Why don¡¯t I go with you, then? I¡¯d rather you get home without making any detours.¡±


    Ana rolled her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m done with him, I promise.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll believe that when I see it.¡± Logan started walking back to their table, and Ana followed. Ana watched as Logan leaned towards Cora¡¯s ear and told her that they were leaving.


    Cora nodded and smiled. ¡°Yeah, don¡¯t sweat it. Some of my friends are here, so I think I¡¯ll stick around. You both get home safe, alright?¡±


    ¡°We will try!¡± Logan pulled Ana by the arm, and they headed toward the exit, giggling.


    ¡ª_¡ª


    The feeling she couldn¡¯t shake off throughout her time in the club was now gone in the cab they took home. Ana still couldn¡¯t tell where it had come from. Maybe something, her mind or her core, was telling her there was a cambion near. Was that how it felt? Was that what she was missing this entire time?


    ¡°Shit¡­¡± Logan typed away on her phone, her painted nails clacking on the glass screen.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Ana asked.


    ¡°My brother¡¯s air conditioning broke, and he wants me to come over and fix it as soon as I can since his pregnant wife has terrible heat flashes. I might not be able to stay for long at your place.¡± She replied as the cab turned into Ana¡¯s driveway.


    ¡°That¡¯s fine, you don¡¯t need to stay.¡± Ana grabbed her purse from where it was sitting at her feet. ¡°I think I can handle unlocking the door.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, probably better than me, huh?¡± Logan giggled. ¡°But seriously, I¡¯ll visit for a few minutes just to sober up. My brother can wait.¡±


    When the car stopped, and stepped out of the car and shut the door, Logan doing the same on the other side. She expected Jazzy to be at the front door waiting for her, but she wasn¡¯t there. She didn¡¯t run out from under the porch, either. Ana knew she let her out before going to Lexingside, so where was she?


    ¡°Where¡¯s your kitty cat? Isn¡¯t she usually outside?¡± Logan made a pspspsps sound before clicking her tongue, but no cat came.


    Ana unlocked the door and entered the dark home. ¡°Jazzy?¡± She called out to the pesky feline, but she was not given an answer. ¡°She must be sleeping somewhere.¡±


    She turned on the hallway light and dropped her purse on the table next to the door. Logan closed the door behind her and took off her shoes. ¡°Your house is always so spooky at night. Don¡¯t you ever get scared?¡±


    ¡°Not really.¡± Ana walked to the kitchen, taking off her heels beforehand and dumping them near the stairs. ¡°I¡¯ve lived here all my life.¡±


    Ana grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water. She turned back to Logan, who leaned against the counter to the left of her.


    ¡°So¡­can I ask what happened with Deacon?¡± She asked, smiling.


    Ana shrugged, looking down at her glass of water. ¡°He¡­I found out he was sending private things about me to his family, and other people I don¡¯t know about. He tried to justify it, but I just got mad.¡±


    Logan frowned. ¡°Oh. I¡¯m sorry, Ana. I always knew he was a dick. I shouldn¡¯t have let him talk to you at the club, then.¡±


    Ana shook her head, taking a sip of her water. ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. He walked off without a problem, didn¡¯t he? He won¡¯t bother me again.¡± She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. ¡°I¡¯ve been too stressed lately, I think. Ending things with him takes some weight off my shoulders.¡±


    ¡°Glad to hear it.¡± Logan smiled. ¡°You¡¯ve been through a lot these past few years, you deserve the peace.¡±


    Her phone vibrated once, and she pulled it out of her pocket. Her smile faded as she read the text she received.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Is it your work?¡± Ana asked. She knew Logan worked as a social media manager for some company in Tallahassee. She often had to make last-minute trips to take photos for their social media pages.


    ¡°Uh¡­yeah.¡± Logan replied, stuffing her phone back into her purse. ¡°They want me to be there in 2 days for an event, or something.¡±


    ¡°Or something?¡± Ana raised an eyebrow. Her friend was nervous, but Ana didn¡¯t know what about.


    Logan clasped her hands together and smiled. ¡°Yeah¡ªI don¡¯t know much about it. I¡¯ll see you soon, okay?¡±


    Ana grabbed her hand before she could leave the kitchen. ¡°Wait. What did Deacon mean when he said second strike? How do you know each other?¡±


    Logan hesitated, looking away from her. ¡°His family¡­works for the company I work at. I¡¯ve been in trouble lately¡ªI don¡¯t know how he found out. That¡¯s it, Ana. I swear.¡±


    Ana looked away, grimacing. ¡°Of course they do. I¡¯m sorry, it¡¯s just¡ªI feel like I¡¯m being lied to by everybody.¡±


    Logan gave her a sorrowful look and wrapped her arms around Ana. ¡°Don¡¯t be sorry. I thought I told you before that my company was owned by the Carbonneau family¡ªthey own a lot of things in the south. Just¡­when I get back, I¡¯ll tell you more, alright? Just wait until then.¡±


    Ana nodded, returning the hug. Logan pulled away and looked up at Ana, smiling. ¡°I¡¯ll see you soon.¡±


    Ana smiled back, watching as Logan left the house, shutting the door behind her. She sighed, her smile fading as she sank to the kitchen floor. Logan¡¯s explanation made little sense, and Ana still felt like she was keeping something from her. She never knew Logan to lie directly to her, so why did she start now? Beau, Marchosias, Deacon, and maybe even her mother have been keeping secrets from her. Who else was hiding something?


    Something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. Just under the kitchen cabinets, sitting on the ground, was a can of wet cat food. It was empty, and Ana touched the inside with her finger to find it was still wet. She never gave Jazzy wet food unless she was sick or if it was her birthday. Unless Jazzy suddenly developed opposable thumbs, somebody must¡¯ve fed her while I was gone, and it was definitely not Marchosias. Beau..? But where is Jazzy?


    A murr came from the living room. Ana dropped the can on the ground and jumped up, peering into the dark living room. Jazzy sat on the couch, looking at her intently. Ana sighed in relief that her cat hadn¡¯t been taken somewhere, but that sill left¡ª


    Her front door opened, and closed. No sound after that. No footsteps, no voice. Marchosias wouldn¡¯t have used the door, and Beau wouldn¡¯t have crossed the spellwork on the porch. Her heart raced as she slowly walked to the hallway, her right hand automatically going to her lower back where her guns where. She couldn¡¯t take them out, however, due to the short gold dress she was wearing. She would have to pull her dress up to touch the tattoos that lay under.


    Her hands shook as she walked out into the hallway. She couldn¡¯t see the door yet, but she prayed, wished even that it was just Beau or even Marchosias, but she knew this behavior was uncharacteristic of them. Despite that, she called tentatively called out the name that would get her the least into trouble.


    ¡°¡­Father?¡±


    She could see the door now. It wasn¡¯t Beau. Standing in front of the door, with his arms clasped in front of him, was Deacon. He smiled as if he was just a husband coming home from work, a gleeful look on his face as if he wasn¡¯t an intruder in her home.


    Ana wished Logan had stayed now.

 Chapter 21: Snakebitten

    ¡°You know, I¡¯m a little offended.¡± His hand brushed against the vase of flowers in the corner of the hallway. ¡°Somebody enters your house, and your first thought is a primordial creature that can teleport wherever he wants?¡±


    Ana gritted her teeth together. ¡°Get out of my house. I told you not to come back here.¡±


    He shrugged and crossed his arms. ¡°You did, and I was only going to speak to you outside, but¡­your cat looked like she was starving. How could I not refuse her?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk to you, get out!¡± Ana exclaimed, pointing to the door behind him. Her hands visibly shook, and Ana knew that he could tell.


    He smiled at her. ¡°No, I think you should hear what I have to say. I¡¯ve waited a week for you to calm over from your little hissy fit, now you can give me just a few moments of your time to convince you to take my deal. ¡±


    He took a few steps toward her, and she took a few steps back. ¡°Get out now, or I¡¯ll summon my father.¡±


    He laughed. ¡°Really? I don¡¯t doubt you¡¯ll summon him, but will he answer the call? I¡¯ve never personally met him, but demons aren¡¯t known to be responsible parents.¡±


    She stumbled back, and he walked towards her. Think, she thought. Think of a way out of this!


    As quick as a hare, she ran back to the living room and to the altar, but on second thought, she took a sharp turn and up the stairs, grabbing one of her heels resting at the bottom. She turned back halfway and spotted Deacon at the bottom of the staircase, grinning up at her. She threw the shoe at him and didn¡¯t look long enough to see if it hit him.


    ¡°Where are you going, Kravens?¡± Deacon called from the stairs.


    Ana ran into her room and slammed the door closed, locking it before shoving a wooden chair under the knob. She stepped back from it as she heard Deacon¡¯s loud footsteps approach the door, her heart beating loud in her ears.


    ¡°This is really funny. A locked door? You think that¡¯s gonna stop me?¡±


    Ana¡¯s heart leapt in her throat as she frantically looked around her room, trying to think clearly through the panic that was scattering her mind. Summon supplies¡­.closet!


    She wrenched the closet door open and pulled out a wooden chest. She lifted the lid and grabbed the extra supplies she had stuffed in there just in case of emergencies like this. She suddenly remembered another spell she was given, and frantically searched through her clothing bin for the pants she had thrown in there a week ago. She found the pants and stuffed her hand in the pocket, wrenching it out when she grabbed hold of a piece of paper. She unfolded it, slightly tearing it down the middle in her frantic movements.


    Should I summon my father, or Beau? My father could get here faster, but would he even show up? Would Beau even show up? The paper crumbled in her hands as she clenched her fists.


    ¡°Shit..¡± She threw the paper to the side and moved back to the summoning supplies. She quickly drew Marchosias¡¯ sigil as the door knob started to wobble.


    ¡°You wanna know something about your father?¡± Deacon called from the other side of the door. ¡°The Creed of Solomon has records of him dating to the fourteenth century! He¡¯s been around far longer than Christianity, let me tell ya. He¡¯s had a habit of¡­abandoning his children. You weren¡¯t the first, did he ever tell you that? Definitely not the first. Which raises the question of why he is making an effort to be near you? Why not any of your past siblings?¡±


    Ana says the summoning invocations under her breath, and the sigils glows a bright white. He received the summons. Now I just need to delay Deacon.


    Ana stood on her legs and pulled up the back of her dress, just enough to touch the tattoo on her lower back. She felt the tingle of mageia on her skin just before a gun formed in her hand, its weight feeling comfortable in her hand. She lowered the dress and raised the revolver, pointing it at the door.


    ¡°Then I started thinking¡­he knows about your double core. What other reason would an uncaring, antisocial demon stick around a mistake like you? No offense, but¡ªI think we all know that first-born cambions are always mistakes. Who would want a baby with a monster?¡±


    She watched as the door slowly unlocked, and Deacon attempted to open it. The chair held in place, screeching against the wooden floor for a moment before holding in place. Deacon let out a slow chuckle, one that made Ana¡¯s skin crawl. ¡°Really? You want to play this game?¡±


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    Ana pulled down the hammer on the revolver, gripping it with both hands. ¡°I have a gun! Don¡¯t open that door, or else!¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± he stopped jangling the door knob. ¡°I should also warn you that this is probably going to hurt.¡±


    She had little time to react before the door blasted open and the chair went flying. She ducked just as it went flying over her head, hitting the wall behind her and falling onto the bed. She stood up straight and aimed the gun at the door again, heart pounding in her chest.


    Deacon strolled into the room, looking casual after he magically blasted her door open. The door knobs had been destroyed, and they now laid on the ground. Ana takes a few steps away from him until her back hits the wall. She swallowed and adjusted the grip on her revolver.


    He eyed the revolver, a smile on his face. ¡°I always saw those on your back, just above your pretty little bottom. Now I get to see you use them..¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t come any closer.¡±


    He walked over to her closet and picked up the paper she had dropped. He took a moment to read it, turning back to Ana. He seemed as if he was holding in laughter as he turned the paper to face Ana. ¡°You do realize that your burn-freak friend gave you an incomplete spell to summon a demon, right?¡±


    He laughed, and Ana jumped. The gun¡¯s handle now felt sweaty in her hands. Had Beau really tricked me?


    He dropped the paper and walked towards her. Her bed was in between him and her, but he merely walked on top of it as if it wasn¡¯t there.


    ¡°Stay back!¡± Ana cried. Final warning. He didn¡¯t listen. He hopped off the bed and came ever nearer, a dark look in his eye¡ª


    She pointed the gun down and pulled the trigger. The gun fired and landed a bullet into his foot, causing him to fall to the ground. The blast made her ears ring and her hand hurt, and she was stunned for a few seconds.


    Deacon let out a cry of pain as blood gushed from his bleeding foot. Ana wasted no time in getting away from him and ran for the door, smoking gun in hand.


    ¡°I¡¯m not finished with you!¡± Deacon cried behind her.


    Ana dashed down the steps, taking two at a time. On the last few steps, her foot slipped and she was sent careening to the ground. She landed on her face with a solid crack of her nose. She laid on the ground for awhile, her mind blank with shock, spending a few too many seconds not breathing. She finally let out a gasp when pain erupted from her nose and she felt blood drip down onto her cheek. Only when she heard footsteps from above did she try to lift herself from the ground.


    Deacon was slowly making his way down the stairs, walking as if he didn¡¯t have a bullet in his foot. Ana realized he must¡¯ve used some kind of spell to deafen the pain, which didn¡¯t work out for her. I should¡¯ve shot him in the fucking chest!


    As blood gushed from her nose, she got up and stumbled to the front door. So close. One step after another, she made her way to freedom. So close! She reached for the doorknob and turned it, and became confused when it wouldn¡¯t open. It was unlocked, but the door wouldn¡¯t budge. Why? Why?


    Deacon came closer. She frantically wiggled the doorknob, pulling on the door, but nothing happened. She began banging on the small window, her breathing becoming fast and harsh. She whipped around just as Deacon grabbed her hands and pinned them to the door behind her. She let out a cry of rage, fighting against his unnatural strength but failing in the end.


    ¡°Are you done now? Good.¡± He pinned her legs with his knees. ¡°Maybe I can tell you what I wanted to tell you without getting shot at.¡±


    ¡°Get off. Get off!¡± She raged, still making an attempt to lift her arms and throw him off of her, but he was too strong.


    ¡°No, no. Just wait. You remember when we first met, right? I knew you were a cambion then, and a pretty one too. But you acted like you didn¡¯t know that I was, until I realized you had no clue. So¡­¡± A smile crept on his face. A cold, creepy smile. ¡°I took you home, and I made sure you knew that I wasn¡¯t leaving your side. But oh no, you didn¡¯t want a relationship. You just wanted to use me whenever you got bored, but I didn¡¯t care. As long as you didn¡¯t care that I never used protection, I was fine. That¡¯s the only part of my mission¡ªoh, my mission! I haven¡¯t told you about that, have I?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care about your sick fucking fantasies! Get off of me!¡± She yelled, spitting in his face. Where is my father? Why isn¡¯t he here yet?


    He wiped off the spit with his shoulder before leaning into her, his nose touching her cheek. ¡°You know why I chose you for my mission? That first night you were asleep in my bed, I checked your core. Dark purple and dark orange¡­such a strange mixture of colors, but I knew then that I needed you¡ªto find a cambion woman for the sole purpose of creating a cambion-cambion child. That¡¯s unheard of, you know? A cambion and a cambion having a child together?¡±


    Ana turned her face away from him, but he leaned in further until his mouth grazed her cheek as he talked.


    ¡°Most cambions think it would bring the apocalypse¡­but not my family. They¡¯re working with the Creed of Solomon to try to make it possible and all that. Modern science brings¡­great things. You haven¡¯t gotten pregnant yet, but..I know the scientists can fix that.¡± His lips pressed down on a tear that left her eye, and she let out a sob. ¡°This has been my mission for the past two years, and I won¡¯t let some ugly Frankenstein of a man take you away from me. You have no life in this hillbilly town, and you will have no future if your father is still around.¡±


    Tears streamed fully from her eyes as the reality of the situation dawned on her. She tried to move her arms out of his grip, but failed again. At first, she was angry at him for entering her house, but now she was scared. She feared for her life, and she feared what the next few minutes had in store for her.


    ¡°I never wanted this¡ªI never wanted any of this! I didn¡¯t¡ªleave me alone, I don¡¯t want any part of this!¡± She sobbed.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have a choice anymore, I¡¯m afraid. My family and The Creed of Solomon already know about you. They want me to give up on you out of fear for who your father is, but I won¡¯t do that. You¡¯re much too¡­valuable. So¡­¡± He lifted her hands above her head and held them both with his left hand. She tried to break free of his grip again, not that he had only one hand holding her wrists. He dug his nails into her skin until she stopped struggling, and then took a knife out of his pocket. ¡°You¡¯ll just have to deal with me for now.¡±


    He ran the blade along her cheek, piercing through the skin. Blood seeped from the cup, and Ana cringed away from the blade, stopping herself from crying out in pain. He begun chanting in a language that sounded vaguely French, and Ana began to panic as she felt mageia flow through her.


    ¡°No, stop, stop¡ªplease! I don¡¯t want this!¡± She cried, struggling even more under his grip, but he didn¡¯t stop. Instead, he began to rush his chanting as swirls of silver mageia danced all around them. Ana looked at them in alarm and she slowly realized he was transporting them both somewhere. She started breathing faster out of panic, gasping in great lungfuls of air that never seemed to be enough.


    ¡°No¡ªfather! Father, please! Help, help me!¡± She screamed and cried into the air, but he didn¡¯t appear. Ana was beginning to think he didn¡¯t ever plan on coming.


    All of a sudden, Deacon stopped chanting, a shocked look on his face. At the end of his words he let out a sharp and sudden gasp, eyes wide and mouth open. He acted as if something had hit his back, leaning into her momentarily. They were both stunned into silence as blood began to drip from his mouth and onto the floor. He let go of Ana¡¯s hands and slowly turned around, Ana forgotten in front of him. Ana took in a dark stain on the back of his gray shirt just before a silver gleam flashed before her eyes and then¡ªblood sprayed across the hallway.


    It continued to spill out onto the floors and hall until he, finally, fell backwards onto Ana, not moving, not breathing. He fell to the ground, dragging Ana along with him. Deacon was dead.

 Chapter 22: Crestfall

    Those next few seconds were the longest few seconds Ana had ever felt. Deacon¡¯s head lay onto of her breasts, blood gushing from his neck and onto her dress, ruining the gold fabric. She liked that dress.


    Something made of metal dropped onto the floor, and the clanging sound brought Ana back to the present. Breathe, she reminded herself, and took in a great lungful of air. With shaky hands, she pushed the corpse off of her, letting it topple to the side as she looked up at Deacon¡¯s killer.


    Judas was standing before her, his right hand bloody and a wild, terrified look in his peridot eyes. He eyed the corpse as if it would move again but when it didn¡¯t, his gaze turned to Ana.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± He murmured, reaching a hand out. He had more rings than he had fingers, and his nails were painted black. A memory reached the front of Ana¡¯s mind, another memory of the same hand helping her a long time ago. ¡°I can summon my father if¡ª¡±


    Ana¡¯s hand reached for the doorknob behind her as she tried to stand, but her legs felt like jello. She turned the knob and let out a cry of relief when it opened. She opened the door and stumbled out, still facing a confused Judas. Her shaky legs folded under her and she fell to the porch. She crawled away from the scene before her¡ª


    ¡°Ana?¡±


    Ana jumped and whipped around to see Beau standing only an inch away from the porch steps, almost too close to the the spellwork. Her heart started to pound against her chest. Trapped. She moved away from him, into the corner of the porch, right up against the railing and the siding. Trapped. Her heart beat faster as her breath quickened.


    Judas walked onto the porch, dropping her revolver next to her feet. ¡°Cute gun. That was your tramp stamp, wasn¡¯t it? Smart way to hide a weapon.¡±


    ¡°Go away,¡± Her voice was barely a whisper, hoarse from crying and screaming earlier. She took a deep breath before trying to raise her voice. ¡°Get out! I don¡¯t want you here!¡±


    Her voice was now a scream, and it angered Judas. His face turned into a scowl as she yelled at him. ¡°This is the thanks I get? I just saved your pathetic life.¡±


    Ana sobbed and went to hide her face but stopped when she noticed the blood covering them. She slowly looked down at her blood-soaked dress, her mouth hanging open in shock. Her hands started to shake as she took in the sight, the dark blood against a gold sheen. Her dress had risen up to her thighs and she desperately pulled it back down, her bloody hands slipping on the equally bloody fabric.


    ¡°Can we just calm down? What the hell happened?¡± Beau said, raising his hands to the both of them.


    ¡°Her cambion friend was getting a little too handsy and using some spell on her. She was screaming for help, so I stepped in. I don¡¯t see what the big deal is! There¡¯s blood everywhere but, so what?¡± Judas explained, wiping his bloody hand on his shirt.


    Beau tried to peer into the hallway before switching his angry gaze to Judas. ¡°You¡­killed him? Are you an idiot? I just told you we need to lay low!¡± He pulled some kind of bead out of his pocket and crushed it between the palms of his hands. Blue mageia flowed from his hands and wrapped around them, some tendrils going down to his feet. His walked onto the porch and towards Ana. She shrunk away from him, wishing she was small enough to fit through the gaps of the railing. He stopped moving towards her, raising his hands in surrender.


    ¡°Get out,¡± She breathed. ¡°I summoned my father. Now get out before he comes!¡±


    Judas laughed. ¡°You really think he¡¯s coming?¡± He leaned closer to her. ¡°If he didn¡¯t show up when you first summoned him, then he won¡¯t show up now.¡±


    ¡°What would you know?¡± Ana spat. ¡°My father saved me from being murdered by a family of cambions. Where was your father that night, huh?¡±


    Judas frowned. ¡°You wanna know the difference? My father has a heart, and soul. Yours couldn¡¯t give less of a shit if you get assaulted.¡±


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    Her lips quivered in anger, and her hand reached for something to throw. She grabbed a small pot and threw it at his head. He dodged, and the pot shattered on the railing across from her.


    ¡°Go away!¡± She screamed. ¡°I don¡¯t need any of you here!¡±


    Beau grabbed Judas¡¯ arm and pulled him off of the porch. He pushed him to the driveway and pointed to the road. ¡°Go. Now.¡±


    They shared a few hushed words that Ana couldn¡¯t hear before Beau suddenly got mad and pointed to the front door. ¡°That is not helping!¡±


    Judas backed away, throwing his arms in the arm. ¡°Fine, then. Go be a knight in shining armor. Don¡¯t come crying to me when Marchosias burns your skin off again.¡±


    Judas left in a cloud of blue mist, and Ana was left alone with Beau. She wiped her nose, wincing at the pain. She didn¡¯t want to attempt to stand up again, knowing that she would feel embarrassed if she fell in front of Beau.


    Beau approached her again, but she didn¡¯t look at him. She felt cold and sticky from the blood, and her muscles ached from exhaustion. All she wanted to do was go to bed, but she knew that wasn¡¯t going to be happening for awhile.


    ¡°Are you¡ª¡±


    ¡°This is all your fault.¡± Ana interjected before he could ask. She didn¡¯t want to hear those words come from his mouth, she didn¡¯t want him to be empathetic. ¡°Deacon said you gave me only a portion of a demon summoning spell. You lied. It wasn¡¯t to summon you. He also seemed pretty provoked by you, thought you would just¡­take me away somewhere.¡±


    He looked away, his hands hanging awkwardly at his side. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    A flame erupted in Ana¡¯s heart, and she couldn¡¯t stop the words that flowed out of her mouth.


    ¡°Sorry? You¡¯re always sorry!¡± She stood on shaky legs, stumbling to the side as she faced Beau. ¡°Something happens and that¡¯s the first thing you say, I¡¯m sorry. Why can¡¯t you say anything else? Judas kills somebody and you¡¯re sorry. You don¡¯t get¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªto be sorry!¡±


    Ana spat. A younger Ana, six years ago, five days before before it all got worse. Her bleached white hair didn¡¯t look so ethereal anymore, her dark roots just starting to emerge. She was at the high school, next to Ophelia¡¯s memorial with Beau Motloe. A younger Beau, his face covered in acne and his long, dark hair hidden by a hood as rain poured down the both of them. Ana neglected to wear any protection from the rain, letting the icy cold water chill her bones and fuel her rage.


    ¡°What else am I supposed to say?!¡± Beau cried, motioning to the memorial. ¡°All I feel is guilt, and sorrow. Tell me¡ªtell me what else am I supposed to say and I¡¯ll say it!¡±


    Ana slowly shook her head, eyes angry and hostile. ¡°You don¡¯t get to feel that. You don¡¯t get to feel anything. Judas killed her. Your family killed her. You don¡¯t deserve to mourn her.¡±


    Beau¡¯s lips quivered, as if he was fighting back tears. ¡°She was my friend too. I knew Ophelia longer than you. I know that doesn¡¯t mean anything now¡ªbut¡­.I¡¯m sorry. I really am.¡±


    ¡°Apologies don¡¯t bring back the dead.¡± Ana whispered.


    Beau looked away from her, but she could see the regret and pain on his face. Had he seen the same memory as her? Their current situation was certainly nostalgic.


    Ana felt a small pang in her heart, the tiniest shred of regret for what she said. She knew he didn¡¯t have a direct hand in this, he barely knew Deacon, but Deacon¡¯s constant mention of him was uncanny. Had jealousy and envy twisted his soul so much that he felt this was the only option?


    Ana looked down at the ground, wiping the blood and tears away from her mouth. ¡°My father is coming. I¡­I don¡¯t want to see anymore blood. Please.¡±


    Beau didn¡¯t leave right away. Instead, he stepped closer to Ana. She refused to look at his face, and instead wiping her hands on her dress. It was useless, the whole thing was covered in blood. She was just spreading more of it onto her hands.


    ¡°I meant it when I said you can summon me if you need help. Use the mageia we share and I¡¯ll feel it¡ªI¡¯ll find you. I¡¯ve left the motel, but I¡¯m¡ªI¡¯m still around.¡± Beau murmured, and seemed to hesitate, his hands reaching for her before shying away.


    ¡°That spell. It¡¯s an incomplete demon summoning spell, but you told me it was to summon you. You lied.¡± She repeated, looking up at him. He avoided her gaze, focusing on the open doorway.


    His lips quivered, and he looked away. ¡°I thought¡­it would be easier to tell you that than just¡ªjust the real explanation.¡±


    Ana sighed, and wrapped her arms around her body. ¡°Fine. Whatever. Leave.¡±


    He left this time, staring at Ana for just a moment before disappearing from sight, leaving a cloud of amber mist behind. She got a whiff of sandalwood and fresh snow just before it too faded away. As soon as he was gone, she sank to the ground and laid her forehead on the wooden boards of the porch. Her heart was still beating too fast, and she willed it to calm. It¡¯s fine. I can do this. I¡¯m fine.


    She wanted to stay there and fall asleep, forget about everything that had just happened. She knew she couldn¡¯t, however. There was a dead body in her hallway that she had to take care of before somebody decided to pay a visit. Logan, Cora, or Deacon¡­no. Not Deacon. Deacon was dead.


    She stood from her spot, willing her weak legs to work. She slowly stepped through the doorway, trying to not look at the dead body as much as possible. It was better to think of it as just a dead body and not as a real person that was breathing only ten minutes ago.


    She stepped over the dead body and onto the rug, letting out a gasp as her foot sank into the wet and squishy carpet. She looked down and realized that the rug had soaked the blood. She would have to throw it out, with the body, and her dress. She might have to throw out her heart, too. She felt as if it was also soaked in Deacon¡¯s blood.


    She made her way to the living room, only vaguely aware of the tears streaming down her cheeks. She sniffled, sitting down on the floor, up against the back of the couch. She couldn¡¯t see the body from this spot, but it didn¡¯t matter. She could still see it in her mind.


    What would Marchosias think of her? Sobbing on the floor after witnessing a man die. He would call her weak and pathetic for crying, but he would also call her weak and pathetic for letting Deacon get the best of her. She wished he hadn¡¯t summoned him now. If she had summoned Beau instead, would it have made any difference? Would he have gotten to her before Judas slit Deacon¡¯s throat?


    A meow came from the hallway, and Ana looked up from her crying. Jazzy walked over to her, her tail raised in interest. Her pretty little paws were soaked in blood, as if she had gone over at some point and investigated the body. The sight made Ana only cry more, and she held out her hand. Jazzy walked over to her, suddenly interested in her owner for the first time.


    ¡°You never like Deacon, huh? Always hissed at him.¡± Ana murmured between sniffles, picking up Jazzy and placing her in her lap. The feline murred in protest, but did not move. ¡°Maybe that¡¯s why you never liked me. I was bringing bad energy into the house.¡±


    She hugged Jazzy tighter to her chest and let the sobs take her, burying her face in the cat¡¯s white fur. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m sorry, for the both of us.¡±

 Chapter 23: Sweven

    Ana was not in her house. She was not in Morganwood, and she certainly wasn¡¯t anywhere on Earth. The long, thin trees were all lined in a row, as if their only purpose in life was to be cut down and replaced with a younger version of themselves, used for the same ultimate purpose. A fog surrounded her on all sides, lessening her vision so that that she couldn¡¯t see what lay on the horizon. The moon could barely be seen in the cloudy sky, but she could see it¡¯s silhouette, a full blood moon that was nothing but an ill omen.


    She has had this dream before, and she knew how it ended, but she had never been more aware that she was asleep. She didn¡¯t want to be here, but she didn¡¯t seem to have much of a choice.


    A sound erupted from behind her; a low growling, the crashing of trees, large footsteps. Her heart started to race, and by instinct she started running the opposite way. She has never seen the monster, but she knew it was chasing her somewhere, and she had no choice but to let it.


    She raced past the identical trees, her footsteps letting out a dull thump against the unnaturally clean ground as the monster¡¯s thunderous stomps grew ever closer. They thumped, shaking the ground as the beast ran towards Ana. She almost tripped at one point on a root that rose from the ground and nearly fell to the ground, but caught herself at the last moment. That near slip-up cost her everything, and she dodged a sudden dark, clawed hand that reached down to grab her. She screamed as it slammed into a tree, splintering it in half and spraying debris everywhere. She continued running in a different direction, breath fast and quick as she jumped over the tree roots that threatened to trip her over again.


    It was leading her somewhere, and she finally arrived to the destination. Long, wooden stairs descended into the ground, stretching in either direction so she had no choice but to descend them. Something was different this time, however. In the basement below, she could see warm fire and a silhouette standing in front of it. She rushed into the room as the monster followed, crushing the rickety stairs as it followed.


    She stopped in front of the man standing before the fire¡ªno, it wasn¡¯t just a man. It was Beau, but what was he doing in her dream? He was never in her dreams. He looked at her with a placid, neutral expression as if he did not care that she was there. Did he not see the monster coming in behind her? They were both trapped. Trapped, and nearing their death.


    The monster. She had almost forgotten¡ªIt gripped her shoulders and pushed her to her knees, its dark hands suddenly seeming smaller. It grabbed hold of her wrists and restrained them. She fought against the grip, but it was to no avail.


    She looked back up at Beau, terror in her eyes. ¡°I have done nothing to deserve this! Do you hear me?¡±


    He did not answer her, nor did he move to help her. Instead, he took a cigarette out of his pocket. This wasn¡¯t unusual, Ana often had cigarette dreams but never like this. She could only watch as he lit the cigarette with the fire behind him and brought it to his lips.


    Fear suddenly filled her with a reason unknown to her, and she struggled against the hands holding her. ¡°No! Stop¡ªwait! Please!¡±


    She could not do anything as he inhaled, the cherry of the cigarette glowing a bright yellow. He held the smoke in his lungs for a brief moment before exhaling, but what came out wasn¡¯t the disgusting fumes she was familiar with. Instead, it was fire. Blue, hot fire. It consumed his face, covering it and slowly spreading to his neck. Beau stood stock still, the cigarette dropping from his hand.


    Ana cried out, trying to pull away from the monster holding her. ¡°Beau! Beau, please! Don¡¯t do this! I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry!¡±


    What was she saying sorry for? She didn¡¯t know, or maybe she didn¡¯t remember. She just wanted him to fight against the fire licking and consuming his face. She wanted him to be safe, and to be free from the fire around them. This was somehow all her fault, she could feel it in her bones and in her heart. She was the reason why they were here, and she had to make it right somehow. She knew she had to.


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    She pulled and twisted against the hands holding her, until she finally turned around and looked up at the monster above her. She never did that, she never looked at the monster. It was an unspoken rule between them. Don¡¯t look into it¡¯s face, and maybe she would safely wake up.


    Dark purple eyes stared back, with intense and hot blue flames spilling out of it¡¯s mouth. she made a mistake. A terrible mistake.


    Ana awoke with a gasp, leaning over and staring at her lap as she fought to even her breathing. She had the nightmare again, she knew that much. The details were starting to become foggy, however. The most she could remember was a cigarette, and Beau. What was he doing in her dream? She couldn¡¯t remember. She didn¡¯t think she wanted to. Some things are best left in her mind.


    She looked around, confused about her surroundings. The events of last night came back to her, and she groaned. She didn¡¯t mean to fall asleep, she had just starting crying last night and couldn¡¯t stop. She must¡¯ve closed her eyes for a moment and passed out. Jazzy had still been in her arms the last she remembered, but now the cat was taking a nap on the couch, curled into a fluffy white ball.


    Marchosias hadn¡¯t come. That was obvious, seeing as there was still a dead body in the hallway. Why hadn¡¯t he? He had received the summons, that much she knew. Was he just ignoring her? She must¡¯ve really gotten under his skin during their last fight. What a jackass, she thought, standing on numb legs. It appears Judas was right, but she would never admit that to his face.


    Jazzy perked up from her spot upon seeing Ana awake. She raced to the kitchen, sending out a stream of hungry meows on her way. Ana sighed and walked to the kitchen, pouring kibble into her bowl. The feline didn¡¯t seem to care all that much about a dead body in the hallway, although her paws were still stained.


    She rubbed her aching neck as she walked into the hallway, glancing at Deacon¡¯s body before quickly looking away. It hadn¡¯t started to smell yet, which was good. She only had a vague idea of how to hide a dead body from the crime shows she obsessively consumed as a teen. Bag the body, dig a six-foot hole, get rid of the evidence. That was the human way, anyway. She was sure there were spells that could help her, but she knew none.


    The Motloes could know. They got away with Ophelia¡¯s murder, after all. She thought about Ophelia, dead, her body half-way in the river, her bright pink hair spread out before her, and her hands balled into fists. No. I¡¯m not relying on anyone anymore. They can all burn in hell.


    The first step was to take a shower and dress into something more fitting for disposing of a dead body. That seemed the right thing to do, at least.


    ¡ª_¡ª


    Ana wiped the sweat off her brow and exhaled. It was now late evening, and she spent the entire day digging a hold that was big and long enough to fit the body. She had showered and changed into an old t-shirt she had since since high school, with hair dye stains all over it during her crazy hair color phase. She had also thrown on some striped sweatpants she had been planning to throw out at some point.


    Finding a spot to dump Deacon was the easy part. She had chosen the field of broken statues, but far away from her dad¡¯s grave as possible. Deacon didn¡¯t deserve to be near him. Digging, however, was the hard part. It had started out easy, as the soil for the first few feet or so was loose enough for her shovel to dig into. As she got deeper, she encountered chunks of clay that were harder to dig up, giving her a difficult time. She had taken a break in the middle of it, just to drink water and cool off, away from the boiling hot sun.


    She stared at the hole she made, an estimated six feet deep and long enough for Deacon¡¯s long legs. She sighed, smoothing her stray hairs down and turning to the body, now covered in trash bags and at least have a roll of duct tape. She hated touching a dead body, but she was the only one there to drag it outside in the sweltering summer heat. She was starting to think it was close to smelling.


    She grabbed it by the feet and dragged it to the whole, pushing it down and watching it plop onto the dirt below. That is Deacon, she told herself. You¡¯re burying Deacon, a man who you talked to just last night. A man you were still cordial with two and a half weeks ago.


    It didn¡¯t seem to matter anymore. Deacon had made his bed by trying to use her for his sick fantasies, and now it was time for him to lay in it.


    She grabbed the shovel and took a scoopful of dirt. She dumped onto his face, and repeated until she could no longer see him.


    After she was done, she washed her hands in the stream nearby and visited the ruins of her dad¡¯s grave. She hadn¡¯t been here since Marchosias ruined it, and now she regretted it.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, dad.¡± She whispered to the shattered headstone. ¡°I¡¯ve fucked up¡­so much.¡±


    What would he think? He wouldn¡¯t think of her as a failure like her real father would. He would just be disappointed in her. She should¡¯ve known this would¡¯ve happened. She always pushed people too far and paid the price.


    She returned back to the house after a few minutes of solemn thinking and tried to clean the remaining mess. There was blood all over the walls and floors, and the rug would have to be thrown in the trash. Or burnt, along with her dress. She liked that dress.


    Scrubbing blood off of wooden floors was harder than she thought, especially when she didn¡¯t know where to start. The few cleaning supplies she had weren¡¯t necessarily made to clean up blood. The sun had set before she had finished the floor and walls, but by the time she did she felt exhausted and dirty. Her hallway looked better than before Deacon ever entered her house, at least.


    She decided it was time for another shower.

 Chapter 24: Crescendo

    Another slash into the wood, and the spellwork started to fizzle.


    Ana stepped away from the porch as it started to spark. It glowed for just a moment like a cheap, underwhelming firework before the carvings faded from view. Marchosias would surely sense his spell being ruined and get mad¡­but he still didn¡¯t come. Even when she waited for thirty minutes on the porch, scrolling through her phone.


    Ana was pissed. More than pissed. She thought of everything she could to grab the attention of Marchosias, and he still did not come. She used the summoning spell again, and now she ruined the spellwork carved into the porch. Nothing was working. Nothing ever worked.


    Logan had been spamming her phone for the past two days, since the morning after Deacon¡¯s death. Ana hadn¡¯t told her anything, but she swore her best friend had a sixth sense. That, or Ana had just been ignoring her for too long. She sent many texts to Logan insisting she was fine, but Logan wanted to call her. Ana, unfortunately, was in a sour mood and didn¡¯t trust herself enough not to say anything rude.


    Her anger and sour mood is what lead to the spellwork on the porch being destroyed. If Marchosias didn¡¯t want to check on her like he should be doing, then he can forget about his stupid barrier spells. Now Ana stood on the porch, tapping her foot as she thought about what to do next. She wanted something to yell at, specifically Marchosias, but unfortunately he was not here. She had no way to vent her anger that was more healthier than punching glass(a bad habit developed after the incident) or smoking cigarettes.


    Cigarette. Her fingers twitched, and she looked at the old ashtray sitting on the patio table. She hadn¡¯t felt this stressed and angry since before she first started smoking. It was a good stress reliever, and one of the few things that helped her cope with everything that happened. She knew she used to hide packs of smokes in places, just in case she ran out. Maybe she still had some¡ª


    No. She quickly shook her head and sat down on the chair next to the patio table. Six months of staying clean, and she was going to throw it all way just because Marchosias wasn¡¯t giving her attention and her friends with benefits is dead? No. She¡¯s better than that. She¡¯s stronger than that. What would her mother think if she found out she went back to smoking? Ana already felt like a disappointment for all the shitty things she¡¯s been doing lately, she can¡¯t add smoking on top of it.


    A pair of footsteps crunched against the gravel driveway, and Ana lifted her head to look at her visitors. Beau and Judas walked toward her, the latter trailing a few feet behind, dragging his feet like a little kid throwing a tantrum.


    ¡°Fucking shit¡­¡± Ana stood and lifted the back of her shirt. She touched the tattoo and as soon she felt the solid weight of the gun in her hand, she pulled down the hammer and aimed it at Judas.


    He raised his hands and took a few steps back. ¡°See? I told you she was gonna go fucking crazy!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re on my property,¡± Ana murmured, looking down the barrel of the gun. ¡°I have every right to shoot your damn head off.¡±


    ¡°Just¡ª¡± Beau stepped in front of Judas, his hands also raised. ¡°Can we all calm down? Can you lower the gun, so I can say what I have to say?¡±


    ¡°It better be that you¡¯re leaving. If not, then you can turn right around and fuck off.¡±


    ¡°Can you actually shoot that, though?¡± Judas moved from behind Beau. ¡°Or is it all for show?¡±


    She aimed the revolver at Judas again with an eyebrow raised. ¡°You willin¡¯ to test that theory?¡±


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    ¡°Gladly!¡± Judas moved away from Beau with his hands raised. ¡°And I don¡¯t mean in the foot like you did with that boyfriend of yours. In my face, right here.¡±


    He pointed to his face, his silver rings reflecting the afternoon sun. Ana adjusted her grip on the weapon and aimed closer to his head. One pull of the trigger, she thought. It would be so easy to avenge Ophelia¡­so why was it so hard? What¡¯s stopping me? My guilty conscience?


    Judas slowly smiled and tilted his head. ¡°What¡¯s stopping you, Kravens? Are you too cravenly to pull the trigger? You have enough reason too, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Alright, that¡¯s enough. You had your fun now let me speak.¡± Beau spoke up, pushing Judas away before turning back to Ana.


    Ana scowled and lowered the gun as Judas sent a middle finger her way as soon as Beau turned his back. She leaned against a post, gun pointed to the gun but still ready to fire just in case. ¡°This better be worth my time.¡±


    ¡°It¡ªit is, I swear. Just hear me out.¡± Beau insisted, taking a step towards her. ¡°We¡¯re leaving. The Creed of Solomon are in town, Ana. You need to leave too. Killing Deacon must have upset something¡ªI¡¯ve been¡ªI¡¯ve been researching his family Ana, they¡¯re big¡ª¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡± Ana slowly shook her head. ¡°They haven¡¯t shown up here yet, but if they do then I¡¯ll give them hell. I¡¯m still waiting for my father to show up, which means you need to get the hell out of here before he does.¡±


    Judas chuckled. ¡°This is just sad at this point.¡±


    Ana turned to him. ¡°Would you like to say that in front of him? I¡¯m sure he would be more than happy to see you.¡±


    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s not¡ª¡± Beau tried to get in front of them, but Judas slapped his arm away and walked closer to Ana.


    ¡°No. You want to know what I find pathetic? After all this time of speaking to Beau and I, even seeing his memories for god¡¯s sake, you still defend your father with your last breath. Are you that thick-skulled that you can¡¯t see him for what he truly is?¡± His voice raised, and he pointed his finger at Ana.


    Ana slowly shook her head. ¡°You don¡¯t know what¡¯s been happening between us, so how would you know I haven¡¯t been asking him the same questions I have been asking Beau?¡±


    Judas scoffed, crossing his arms. ¡°Because you¡¯re still treating us like shit, like we were the main problem that caused it all. Have you looked in the mirror lately? Because that is who¡¯s at fault.¡±


    Ana glowered at him, her grip on the gun tightening. ¡°No. Don¡¯t act as if you didn¡¯t kill Ophelia with your own bare hands. Don¡¯t act as if your family didn¡¯t kidnap me.¡±


    Judas laughed, and Beau gave her a quizzical look. The former shook his head before smoothing his curly hair down. ¡°Is that what he told you? You walked into our house willingly. Remember that? You walked in, and tried to choke me in my bedroom. That¡¯s when we decided to end you. That¡¯s when we took you down to the basement.¡±


    Ana¡¯s mouth hung open as she tried to remember. No. Father said¡­Father said they chased me into the woods. I¡¯ve had nightmares about it. Why can¡¯t I remember it explicitly?


    She shook her head. Her grip on the gun had gone loose, and she tightened it again. No. He¡¯s manipulating me. Why else would I have those nightmares?


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t explain why you killed Ophelia. Maybe I did enter your home, but what about you?¡± Her voice was quivering, her rage making itself known to the brothers. ¡°Was it out of jealousy? Spite? I know you hated her. Out of pure fucking selfishness and greed, you tore your family apart because you couldn¡¯t handle seeing Ophelia and I together. You¡¯re just like your namesake, Judas. Selling the ones you love out of greed.¡±


    There were no words to describe the anger and pain on Judas¡¯ face. Beau seemed to have the same problem, as he looked at him with a look of uncertain fear.


    Judas took a few steps back, arms outspread. ¡°You wanna know what happened in that basement? You want me to tell you what happened since he¡ª¡± He pointed an accusing finger at Beau. ¡°¡ªis too much of a pussy to tell you?¡±


    ¡°Judas, stop¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, brother. You¡¯ve had enough time to tell her, so let me do it since you can¡¯t fucking do it.¡± Judas disappeared in a cloud of blue mist.


    Ana stepped off the porch and looked around the area, but he was nowhere to be seen. Beau grabbed her arm and forced her to look at him, his face twisted in anger.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have goaded him like that!¡±


    She wrenched her arm out of his grip. ¡°He started it, not me. Maybe you should be telling him that.¡± She turned away from him and continued looking around for the miscreant.


    ¡°I have spent the past four weeks trying to manage his anger control and you just¡­throw it out the window!¡± He exclaimed.


    She whipped around and stepped closer to him. ¡°If you have to be your brother¡¯s caretaker so he doesn¡¯t explode on people, then maybe there¡¯s a fucking problem¡ª¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡±


    They both turned to the barn. Standing on the left side was Judas, holding Jazzy by the scruff of her neck.


    ¡°You asshole¡ª¡± Ana raised the gun, but Beau quickly pushed it down and wrenched it out of her hand. She reached for it, but he held it away from her.


    ¡°No, enough. Not against my own brother, Ana.¡± His voice was no longer angry, but pleading, his dark eyes wide and panicked.


    Ana stared at him, his eyes reflecting her own face angry face. How do I tell him it makes me feel safe? How do I tell him I could never pull the trigger?


    She turned away from him and back to Judas, who was just fading from view and into the forest. If he wants me to follow him, then fine. She stomped towards the forest, intent on getting her cat back.


    ¡°Ana¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t follow me!¡± She snapped. ¡°Stay here or I swear to God I¡¯ll shoot you.¡±


    He obeyed, and she felt his eyes burn a hole in the back of her neck as she followed Judas into the woods.

 Chapter 25: Skirmish

    ¡°Judas! Show your face, you coward!¡±


    She had been half-running, half-walking for five minutes now, but she was certain Judas had tricked her into getting lost in the woods. She hadn¡¯t heard a single sound since she became surrounded by the oak and maple trees. Not even a single bird or squirrel made a chirp, which meant they had fled and left her alone with a crazed lunatic.


    ¡°Give me my cat back, dammit!¡±


    Bushes rustled, sticks broke, a large animal growled. Ana turned to the sound, her face pale as she had a sudden feeling of deja vu. Monster¡­forest¡­have I been here before?


    She saw the yellow eyes before she saw what it was.


    She threw herself to the ground as the animal lunged with a fierce growl. Ana screamed as it crashed into the honeysuckle bush behind her. She scrambled to her feet and took a good look at the animal that tried to attack her.


    It was a panther, with a black shiny coat and a long, thin tail. It scrambled out of the bush and began to stalk around her, it¡¯s teeth barred.


    What did my father say about panthers while we¡¯re out camping? Don¡¯t run, don¡¯t crouch, give it space¡ªwait¡­hang on. There are no panthers in Mississippi. Not once has she seen a panther in the twenty-two years she¡¯s lived here. What the hell is going on?


    She looked closer at the big cat, and for just a fraction of a second, she saw it flicker. It stopped trying to lunge at her, but it wasn¡¯t running away either. Panthers don¡¯t attack unless provoked, but¡­this wasn¡¯t a really panther. It was an illusion.


    Just then, the panther flickered from sight, a bundle of flowers left in it¡¯s place. Confused, Ana walked over to the bundle and picked it up. I don¡¯t understand¡­


    ¡°Neat trick, huh? Perks of being the son of Crocell the Demon. Illusion, manipulation¡­¡± Judas stepped out from behind a tree, and Ana tensed. ¡°Things your father can¡¯t even imagine doing. What did he give you, by the way? Shit location spells?¡±


    She pulled her shoulders back. ¡°Does it matter? At least he made an attempt to be in my life, unlike yours.¡±


    His eyes narrowed. He raised his right hand close to his chest, palm facing the sky. Ana watched as blue lines of mageia twirled around his wrist, and began to prepare her own spell. ¡°Don¡¯t try to assume anything about my father. You barely know anything about your own.¡±


    Ana pulled up the amber shield just before his blaze of lighting could hit her. The shock of the blaze hitting her caused her to stumble back, but she grounded her feet and prepared for the next blow. Judas circled around her, inspecting the shield with anger.


    ¡°Did your father teach you that? You know why?¡± He reached behind his back and threw another blaze of lightning toward her. She managed to hold her place, but the shield was already beginning to crack. This was nothing like the soft energy blasts Marchosias used when they trained, Judas was putting all of his anger into his spells. ¡°He knows it hurts him more than it hurts you! He wants you dead, but he want him to suffer more!¡±


    Ana cried out as a bolt caught her off guard, veering to the right and forcing her to move the shield too fast. The veins in her wrist screamed in protest, not used to such fast and sudden movement. She tried to breath through the pain as she faced Judas again, gritting her teeth. ¡°Tell me¡­tell me who it is then.¡±


    He smiled, spreading his hands out, letting the blue swirls flow from his hands and onto the ground like thick fog. ¡°You want to know about the incident, or who you¡¯re hurting by using that simple spell. You can¡¯t have both. Who¡¯s the greedy one now?¡±


    He disappeared from sight and Ana didn¡¯t have time to react before she felt a sharp blow to her shoulder. The shield faded as she fell to the ground, her cheek hitting solid ground. The world seemed to stop as she laid on the ground, her only view being the oak tree in front of her. She numbly turned onto her back, and caught movement of somebody approaching her. She was in a similar situation, only a few days ago. Deacon over her, arms caught, legs pinned, trapped. Trapped.


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    She scrambled away from him, heart beating and breath quick. He continued walking to her, and she kicked out with her feet. She missed with the first kick, but her right foot landed on his knee with a dull, metallic thud. It sent a dull pain up her leg, but it seemed to deal more to Judas. His face went pale, and he crumpled to the ground. The humming stopped, something Ana had gotten used to since Judas had first appeared. At first, he just laid there and gasped for breath, his fingers digging into the dirt under him. Ana crawled away from him and stood on her legs, reaching under her shirt and taking out her second pistol. I¡¯m sorry, Beau.


    She aimed it at his head, and he looked straight at her. Her finger was on the trigger, put she didn¡¯t pull it. She wanted to. What was stopping her?


    ¡°Remember that time¡ª¡± He gasped for breath, ¡°Remember that time we stole a bottle of tequila from Junie Marston¡¯s house party and took it into the woods, just us?¡±


    ¡°Stop.¡± She didn¡¯t know what he was doing, but it was hurting her head. She remembered Junie Marston. She was a volleyball player who hosted parties at her parent¡¯s summer cabin, but¡­Judas wasn¡¯t there, was he? She remembered the parties, but why couldn¡¯t she remember what happened during them?


    ¡°We drank half of it before trying to skip rocks on the lake. We were both terrible at it, of course, but it was¡­fun. We started talking when the bottle was mostly empty, and I told you about my family, and gave you some angsty teen rant about how fucked up we were compared to other families. You told me about your old hometown¡ªthis place. Morganwood. You said Livernville could never compare to Morganwood, and I believed you. You made it sound like a dream.¡±


    She squeezed her eyes shut as shots and stills of things flashed through her head, one after the other, until they played a complete scene in her head. No, not just a scene. Whole, entire, memories. Memories of shared laughter, copied homework, horrible but fun karaoke, gossip behind the bleachers, getting high in the woods, and they were all with Judas, and they all happened before Ophelia. After Ophelia¡­it was just Ophelia. Where had Judas gone? I don¡¯t understand. We were never friends. I always thought of him as a bad person, but¡­


    She became emotional, a heavy weight making itself known in her chest and tears welling in her eyes. The gun shook in her hands and she lowered it, refocusing on Judas. His face had gained color, his green eyes concentrated on her.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t take me out here to tell me about the incident,¡± Ana mumbled, trying to fight the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She didn¡¯t want to cry again, and not particularly in front of Judas. ¡°You took me out here so I could remember¡­us being friends. Before Ophelia.¡±


    He stared at her for a moment before pulling himself into a sitting position, leaning against a tree. He hadn¡¯t moved his legs at all since she kicked him, which Ana found strange.


    ¡°You don¡¯t understand what kind of person Ophelia was,¡± His voice was soft now, his anger during their brief fight a mere echo in her memory. ¡°You didn¡¯t know her as long as Beau and I did.¡±


    Ana quickly shook her head at the mention of Ophelia. ¡°No. Shut up.¡±


    He leaned closer to her, still not moving his legs. ¡°Two months, Ana. You were together for two. Fucking. Months. You knew her for barely longer than that! Do you think that¡¯s long enough to truly know a person?¡±


    She looked away from him, no longer wanting to reply. She wouldn¡¯t let him taint Ophelia¡¯s image in her mind. He already changed the memories of him and although she wasn¡¯t sure how she felt about that yet, she wouldn¡¯t let him ruin Ophelia, anybody but her.


    Judas sighed and leaned back on the tree. His hands hesitated before reaching for his pant legs. One after the other, he rolled them up to his thighs. Ana walked closer to him, confused at the sight before her.


    His legs were metal, or made out of something that looked metal. The knee and shin made out of a solid white material, while the thigh and calves appeared like pure, silver muscle. Judas conjured a pool of mageia into his hands and let it fall into the muscles of his legs. His legs hummed as his muscles contracted and started moving, the mageia being absorbed into the fake legs. The humming started again, like an old machine being turned on again after years of disuse. He grimaced at the process, squeezing his eyes shut until the artificial muscles stopped. That¡¯s why he wore baggy pants all the time, Ana thought. He was hiding¡­those. And the hum that always seemed to follow him, it was because of¡­that.


    He looked up, and noticed Ana watching. He set his mouth into a thin line. ¡°Your father gave Beau his burn scars, and he took my legs. You wanna know what happened? This is what happened.¡± He rubbed his nose, appearing nervous for just a moment. ¡°This¡­isn¡¯t so bad, anyway. My father paid the scientists to give me these. Beau¡­Beau got it worse.¡±


    ¡°I still don¡¯t understand,¡± Ana murmured, reshaping the gun back into a tattoo on her back. ¡°Why would my father get rid of all my memories of you before the incident?¡±


    ¡°Because,¡± He slowly raised himself from the ground, stretching his legs tentatively. ¡°That was the easiest way to paint me a monster. If all you thought of me was me being a murderous asshole, then you had no reason to question his lies.¡±


    ¡°Did you kill Ophelia, then?¡± She asked bluntly. That piece of her memory was still concrete in her mind, but she was starting to think that Marchosias had changed most of her memories. Maybe, just maybe¡­


    Judas was silent for the longest moment, but he did not look away for her. Her headache grew as she waited for an answer, her heartbeat feeling as if it was in her throat.


    ¡°Yes. I drowned her in the river.¡±


    Ana quickly looked way, those few words sparking a fire in her heart. The headache now pounded against her skull, letting her think of nothing but the morning when she received news about her death. They didn¡¯t let her see the body, claiming she was too bloated and rotting that it might scare Ana, but Ophelia could never look ugly. She was always perfect and beautiful. ¡°Of course. Why did I expect any better of you?¡±


    ¡°Ana¡­¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Ana snapped, turning to him. The perplexed look on his face confused her and simmered the angry fire in her heart. He wasn¡¯t even looking at her either, but instead behind her, to the sky.


    She looked in the same direction, peering through the trees. Smoke trailed up the sky, dark and angry tendrils pushing itself to and fro. It was a fire, a very large one, and in the direction of her house.

 Chapter 26: Schadenfreude

    ¡°No¡­no!¡±


    Ana dashed back to her house, leaving Judas behind in the grove. She ran as fast as she could with an injured shoulder, zipping past trees and startled birds as her shoulder begin to ache with a dull throb. Judas had most likely cracked or shattered something when he had hit her¡ª


    Her foot caught on a rock and she fell to her knees, gasping as her arms scraped on the ground. She didn¡¯t waste any time and scrambled back to her feet, brushing off leaves and dirt from her arms as she ran. She could see the tree line now, and the blaze that consumed her house through the trees. She increased her pace, her eyes set on the sound of the crackling flames.


    A hand shot out from behind a tree and grabbed her. She let out on oof as it collided with her chest, stopping her suddenly in her tracks. Another arm wrapped around her waist as she struggled against the grip, her shoulder screaming in pain.


    ¡°Wait¡ªwait! It¡¯s just me, it¡¯s just me!¡± Beau¡¯s voice came from behind her. She lessened her struggling a small amount, her eyes turning to the burning house.


    ¡°The Creed of Solomon¡ªthey¡¯re here. I had to do it¡ªthey would¡¯ve found the evidence otherwise. Your cat was in there but¡ªI made sure she was out. She ran to the back of the barn.¡± He spoke fast and quick, but Ana was barely listening. He burned my house. He burned down my fucking house!


    ¡°Why?! You didn¡¯t have to burn it down!¡± She thrashed against his grip, but he held fast.


    ¡°I had to, okay? I don¡¯t know what you did with the body or if you even cleaned up the evidence properly¡ªbut they can and will frame you for his death! A first-born cambion with a demonic parent who hasn¡¯t been captured yet¡ªdo you know how rare you are? They would do anything to have you, and they would make your disappearance look like an accident or that you deserved it, trust me. They have more power than you think.¡± He spoke close to her ear as Ana sobbed.


    ¡°My¡ªmy house¡­¡± She watched as the flames climbed ever higher to the second floor, consuming the old wood that lay underneath the blue paint. She felt as if her memories within that house were being burned along with it, consuming whatever happy days she lived before ever going to Livernville and meeting the Motloes.


    Her shoulder was starting to really hurt, and Beau had his chest pressed to her back, his arms still wrapped around as if he was afraid she would bolt towards the fire. ¡°Let me go¡­please.¡±


    He let go of her, and she sank to the ground. She reached under her shirt to her shoulder and gathered mageia in her hands. She placed her hand over the tender wound and grimaced as the bone started to fix itself.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Beau asked, standing behind her.


    ¡°Judas.¡± She murmured.


    ¡°Where is he?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t know. Don¡¯t care.¡± She clipped, taking her hand out of her shirt and staring at the small splatter of blood.


    ¡°Did¡­he tell you?¡± Anxiety was obvious in his voice, and Ana looked up at him as she rose from her spot. He stared at her with anticipation, arms crossed and gloved fingers tapping against his arm.


    She shrugged. ¡°Not really. Just¡­vague things.¡± She looked away from him and back to the fire. ¡°¡­Was it true? Judas and I were friends?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he replied, confirming the memories in her mind. ¡°Our¡ªmy dad didn¡¯t like your friendship, but there was nothing he could do. He could never control Judas. Then you both got into some kind of argument just before you got together with Ophelia and¡­there was no controlling him after that. He was a feral animal in our own home.¡±


    An argument had drifted them apart, one that she didn¡¯t remember.


    She walked closer to the tree line, something white catching her eye. She hid behind a tree, peeking her head out as she watched the scene before her. Two vans, one large SUV, and many figures in white and red uniforms. Most looked like hazmat suits, while the rest were some kind of police uniforms that were used during heavy riots. They walked around the house, yelling unintelligible things to each other. They had gadgets in their hands that looked like radiation detectors, and they waved them around the house and the barn. A few meandered around the SUV, talking on phones or to each other.


    ¡°What are they doing?¡± Ana murmured. ¡°Are they¡­all human?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re looking looking for any signs of spells, or to see if the fire is a allusion.¡± Beau came up close to her and looked over her shoulder. ¡°Most of them are humans, but if you ask them personally they would say magicians. I sense two or three cambions with them, but I can¡¯t tell. Most likely Deacon¡¯s family, as they¡¯re large in this part of America.¡±


    Ana continued watching them as Beau rambled on. Another van came, but this one was black and red. It stopped behind all the other vans in her driveway, and the back doors opened before a group of more armor-clad Solomons hopped out. Among the sea of white gear and dark helmets was a hair of strawberry blonde tied into a high ponytail, swaying in the light breeze.


    ¡°Ana¡­I¡¯m sorry.¡± Beau started, and she turned to look at him from the corner of her eye. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have been there when Deacon arrived. Maybe none of this would¡¯ve happened if I had left sooner, like Judas wanted.¡±


    She avoided his gaze, uncomfortable with his apology. The breeze picked up, and she felt the warm breath of the fire on her face as she thought about the words she said after Deacon had died and Judas had left. She had said many words, and a lot of them were said out of pure anger and pain. She couldn¡¯t take them back now, as they were in the past. She did feel guilty for saying them, but she couldn¡¯t find it in herself to apologize to him like he so easily did with her.


    She walked away from the forest line and deeper into the forest, feeling more antsy as the presence of magician-soldiers grew. She felt strange, and she couldn¡¯t discern why.


    ¡°What are you going to do now?¡± Beau asked, following behind her.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Ana replied, rubbing the back of her neck. ¡°You set fire to my only home, so¡ª¡±


    Marchosias was tracking her, or at least trying to. Something was dulling his powers, most likely being the Solomon soldier¡¯s fancy gadgets. My father is tracking me, and Beau is right next to me¡­oh shit.


    Beau noticed her sudden change in demeanor and walked to her side. ¡°Ana..?¡±


    She backed away from him, her face pale. ¡°Go. Go! My father is coming!¡±


    Beau froze for just a moment before shaking his head, stepping closer to Ana. ¡°No, I¡¯m not leaving you¡ª¡±


    Some bushes rustled to the left of them as Judas appeared, glancing at them both. His legs seemed to be working just fine now, as if her kick to his knee had done nothing. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


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    ¡°Take him, and go!¡± Ana exclaimed. ¡°My father is tracking me down, and if you don¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not leaving you with him Ana¡ªhe can¡¯t kill you but he can still¡ª¡±


    ¡°Beau, we need to go.¡± Judas place a hand on his brother¡¯s arm and looked up at him. ¡°We¡¯ll be dead if we stay here.¡±


    Beau shook his head again. ¡°No. I¡¯m not¡ª¡±


    They both looked behind Ana, their faces turning pale. Judas stumbled back until he hit a bush, his eyes locked on something behind Ana. She already knew who it was just by judging their terrified faces, but she turned anyway, hoping just a little that it was not her demonic father. That wish did not come true.


    ¡°You better have a good reason for being with the Motloes.¡± Marchosias stood at least ten feet away, hands at his side and his body as still as stone, like always.


    Ana took a moment to speak, her heart racing and her palms sweating. ¡°Well, you weren¡¯t helping much with jogging my memories so¡­I turned to them for help. Do you have a good reason for being absent for so long?¡±


    He stared at her, his gaze searching. He didn¡¯t reply to her, but instead looked at Judas. Ana turned backed to the younger Motloe just as he pulled a palm-sized orb out of his pocket and held it up.


    ¡°Oh, what?¡± There was an unusual hint of humor in Marchosias¡¯ voice. ¡°You¡¯re going to summon your selkie of a father to fight your battles for you? You take after him very well. You both hide behind others instead of facing your troubles.¡±


    Judas¡¯ face turned sour. ¡°How dare¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yes I dare, boy. I have killed your father more times than you have ever blinked, and I will do so again and again. Crocell is nothing but a pathetic worm, and will stay that way long after you are dead,¡± Marchosias spat, his words coming out quick and fast as if he was already tired of the conversation. He turned to me, his face back to being placid. ¡°Get over here.¡±


    Ana crossed her arms and did not move from her spot, which was right in the middle of the brothers and Marchosias. ¡°Why don¡¯t you answer my questions first?¡±


    ¡°You will have plenty of questions to answer when I am finished here. Get over here.¡± He pointed to the spot next to him, but she did not move.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you respond to my summoning a few days ago? I needed you.¡± She asked. His eye twitched.


    ¡°I was busy.¡±


    ¡°That excuse stopped working the first time you said it, find another one! Better yet, tell me what you were really doing.¡± Ana stood her ground, more than she felt she has ever done before. She knew Marchosias could tell she was nervous, he didn¡¯t even need his suspicious demon powers to know that. Her shaking and sweaty palms were enough evidence of that fact.


    ¡°You have no right to be asking me those questions.¡± Marchosias simply said. Ana still wasn¡¯t satisfied.


    Her lips curled in anger. ¡°I almost got kidnapped and taken to a freaky cult full of humans who think they know better. I needed your help, and you didn¡¯t come! So tell me what you were doing while I was trying my damnedest to not be taken captive.¡±


    ¡°Ana¡ª¡± One word from Beau, and he was given a nasty glare by Ana, and he shied away. They were all lucky that Marchosias hadn¡¯t immediately tried to kill them when he arrived, and she didn¡¯t want him ruining that fact.


    When she turned back to Marchosias, he was staring at Beau. Shit.


    ¡°I know I did a number on your face. I must¡¯ve done a good job if you¡¯re hiding it behind a glamour.¡± Marchosias said, his lips curling into a smile, as if the thought of Beau burning alive made him happy. It gave Ana a headache. ¡°Can you still smell the smell of burnt flesh and hair? I sure can, and it¡¯s delightful.¡±


    Beau looked down at the ground, trying best to hide his emotions, but no amount of courage could hide the fear on his face. Ana turned back to Marchosias and stood in front of Beau. ¡°Tell me where you were. Don¡¯t try to change the subject.¡±


    Marchosias didn¡¯t pay attention. It was as if she wasn¡¯t even there. ¡°I wonder, does your mother even know how horrifying and ugly her son is now, wherever she is? Oh, how I would enjoy hearing her scream upon seeing your real face, one that not even your mother could love.¡±


    Ana turned to gauge Beau¡¯s reaction. He looked like he was trying his hardest not to cry, his brows furrowed and his lips quivering. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, the old cheap leather of his gloves cracking and peeling off. Beau didn¡¯t deserve this, she thought. I remember how kind Mrs. Motloe was, and she would love him no matter what.


    His mother. Marchosias said something, a very small thing, that caught her attention. ¡®wherever she is.¡¯ So he didn¡¯t have clue where she was. It took him this long to find the Motloe brothers, and he still hadn¡¯t found their mom. Or maybe¡­he hasn¡¯t been trying to find the brothers in the first place.


    ¡°You weren¡¯t looking for the brothers, were you?¡±


    He turned to her, his face back to being plain and stony.


    ¡°You weren¡¯t looking for them,¡± She repeated, ¡°In the hopes they would find me and ask me for help. But what for? You could¡¯ve just killed Beau or Judas and taken their blood.¡±


    Marchosias¡¯ demeanor changed, although Ana couldn¡¯t tell how. It was nothing obvious, more like a change in the air when somebody enters a room. He looked at her, his eyes roving over her own. ¡°Blood for spells cannot be used without the bleeder¡¯s full consent. You¡¯re shit at location spells, but you had a better chance convincing Burn-Freak to give over his blood. You both have some¡­unresolved sentiments towards each other.¡±


    Ana¡¯s eyes trailed to the ground as he talked. The sun was starting to set, washing the surroundings in a golden hue. She could feel her face warm with anger as she thought over his words in her head. He used me. I was being used by my own father. He never cared in the first place about me. Although, this does prove one thing¡­


    She looked up at him through her eyelashes. ¡°You used me because you weren¡¯t able to find their mother on your own. You call Judas¡¯ father weak, but you can¡¯t find one old woman?¡±


    His finger twitched. With lightning speed, he phased right in front of Ana and grabbed her by the throat. He pressed down, not enough to hurt, but enough to make it uncomfortable to breathe. He was furious at her, she could see it in his eyes. She had poked a bear, and now suffered the consequences. Her heart was beating fast, and she was sure he could hear it. She didn¡¯t fear for her own life but the Motloes¡¯ instead, as demons couldn¡¯t kill their own children. No matter what he could do, there would always be something stopping him from ending her life. He could have all the murderous thoughts he wanted, but he would never be able to act them out.


    His eyes trailed from her to Beau. He tilted his head as if in consideration, before pushing Ana¡¯s shoulder and turning her around. He pulled out a knife from somewhere and held it to her throat. She recognized it as an ancient ceremonial knife, one he would use to teach her spells that required her blood.


    ¡°Does this make you angry, boy? Go ahead. Take a shot at me, I promise I won¡¯t move. Maybe this time you won¡¯t hurt her.¡± He egged Beau on, but Beau did not comply. He didn¡¯t look so fearful now, but angry and defensive.


    ¡°Let fucking go of me! I won¡¯t be used as bait,¡± Ana said, gritting her teeth together. She tried to pull Marchosias¡¯ knife-wielding hand away from her neck, but he didn¡¯t move. It was if his arm was locked in place.


    ¡°Ask him who hurt you,¡± He whispered close to her ear. ¡°Ask him who tried to carve your heart out and steal your mageia, your being.¡±


    She wasn¡¯t going to ask him at first, but something pushed at the back of her mind. She had wanted to forget what she had seen in Beau¡¯s memory when they had done the second spell, but it wasn¡¯t something she could just throw away. Beau had wanted to kill her to get his core back, it was a fate he had decided for her. Did he ever go through with it? The Beau she had known for the past three weeks didn¡¯t seem to have any motive to kill her. He was kind, patient with her anger, and seemed to not want nothing but to find his mom and¡­help Ana. He wanted her to go with him, away from the Creed of Solomon and away from Marchosias. Was this really the same Beau that tried to kill her in the basement? What happened to him in the past six years?


    She wouldn¡¯t have asked, but she saw the flash of fear in Beau¡¯s eyes. The fear of truth. He didn¡¯t want her to know, or maybe he couldn¡¯t tell her just like he couldn¡¯t tell her exactly about the incident. But if there was ever a time to tell her what happened, it was now.


    ¡°Tell me. Tell me what happened.¡± Ana¡¯s voice quivered. She wasn¡¯t sure she wanted to know anymore. The headache grew as the seconds dragged on, and she just wanted all of it to stop.


    Beau was looking down at the ground, his lips pressed together, but he slowly looked up at her, with all the courage he could muster. ¡°When¡ªwhen you attacked Judas, my father decided it was time to¡­get rid of you. He wanted me to get my core back from you¡ªthe piece that you took. He made do a spell just before¡ªbefore¡ªyour father came.¡± Tears sprung from his eyes, but he did not look away. His hands were at his sides, shaking in fear. ¡°He killed my father. Judas¡­tried to run away and¡­he came for me then. He¡ªhe¡ª¡±


    His eyes turned down to the ground then, his hand covering his mouth as he relived the memories he never wanted to revisit. ¡°I just want you to know, Ana¡ªI never meant to harm you, I didn¡¯t have a choice¡ª¡±


    ¡°There is always a choice!¡± Marchosias spat, and he held the knife closer to her neck. She thought just for a moment that he could actually do it, that he could slit her neck and be done with this mess. ¡°You were never forced to do anything. You walked down those basement steps willingly, with full knowledge that you were about to kill a girl. You were offered many paths, and you chose the wrong one.¡±


    Ana wished the memory she saw wasn¡¯t true, but Beau and Marchosias had cemented it in her mind. Beau wanted to kill her, and now he had come asking for her help in finding his mother, the same woman who convinced him to end her life, all for the sake of getting back his core. Although, it also cemented the fact that her father had a hand in causing all of this pain and misery that still affected them today. Judas¡¯ disability, Beau¡¯s ruined skin, all just to save her from her own death. Was it all worth it in the end? To ruin a whole family just to save one? The thought made the headache worse.


    Tears streamed down her eyes now, but Marchosias didn¡¯t need to look at them to know she was distraught. He leaned close to her ear, his warm breath on his neck. ¡°Shh, little bird. Your time for going behind my back is over now. Let me take care of this¡ª¡±


    ¡°You took her memories, didn¡¯t you?¡± Beau spoke up. Marchosias didn¡¯t respond. ¡°It¡¯s the only thing that makes sense. She lost memory of the incident, but she also lost her memory of being friends with Judas, and talking to me. Why?¡±


    Ana¡¯s lips thinned. Beau said the thing that she had been thinking of for the past few days. Judging by Marchosias¡¯ silence, Beau had him pinned. She knew that was a mistake.


    Marchosias grabbed her shoulder and threw her to the ground. When she scrambled back to her feet, he had Beau pinned to a tree with one hand, and a ball of blue fire near the other. He pulled it close to Beau¡¯s face, and Judas cried out in panic but he did not move. The younger brother looked on in fear, too paralyzed to do anything.


    ¡°I think I should¡¯ve just blown your head off just like I did with your father,¡± Marchosias hissed. ¡°Do you remember that? How his flesh and brain went everywhere? It was a beautiful sight. I still remember you looking on in shock as scraps of brain slid down your face.¡±


    Beau gave him a wild and terrified look, desperately moving his head away from the ball of intense fire that rested so close to his face. His breathing was ragged and fast as he panicked. His hands clawed the demon¡¯s hands around his throat as the fire came ever nearer to his face.


    Ana¡¯s heart lurched into her throat, and she felt fearful about what was about to happen. Her headache banged against her skull as she realized they were in a very similar situation before, but this time Ana could stop it. No more violence. No more death, at least for the moment.


    Her heart beat fast as she dashed to Marchosias¡¯ side, pulling her revolver again from her tattoo. Without any hesitation, she raised the gun and fired at Marchosias¡¯ head. The gun recoiled as the bullet went straight into Marchosias¡¯ eye and he stumbled back, falling to the ground. Ana didn¡¯t waste any time as she ran over to a shocked Judas and pulled him by the arm and toward Beau. ¡°Go, get out of here! Now!¡±


    Judas didn¡¯t question her and grabbed onto Beau¡¯s arm, crushing the glowing blue orb in his hand. As blue mist swirled around them like a tornado, Beau reached out for her, a desperate look on his face. ¡°Ana, please!¡ª¡±


    They were gone in a flash, and Ana was left alone with her furious father.

 Chapter 27: Appetence

    Ana¡¯s father rose from the ground and she watched as the bullet slowly slid out of his eye, letting out a disgusting squelch sound before it fell to the ground. He closed his eyes for a few seconds before opening them again, and his eye was back to being it¡¯s dark amethyst color. There was still a splatter of blood on his face from the gunshot, but otherwise his face looked perfectly normal.


    Marchosias calmly walked over to her and ripped the gun out of her hands. He dropped it to the ground and repeatedly stomped on it with his foot. Ana cried out, watching as the revolver her dad gave her was smashed to pieces in front of her eyes. She had another one, of course, but they were a set. She left it¡¯s twin back at home, that was now on fire and surrounded by cult-ish magicians.


    This is the best outcome, she told herself. Beau and Judas could¡¯ve been killed, but now they¡¯re far away from here. Instead, my gun is being destroyed. It¡¯s better than watching Beau¡¯s face being burned¡­again.


    Marchosias suddenly stopped and leaned in close to her, grabbing her arm so she didn¡¯t move back. ¡°Can¡¯t you ever listen for once?! Your entire life has been about making mistakes and somehow you still find a way make it even worse!¡±


    Ana bit her tongue to stop herself from yelling back. She knew that¡¯s what he wanted; her to match his energy so he had an excuse to punish her more. She would not make it so easy for him. She took a deep breath before speaking.


    ¡°I won¡¯t be used by you,¡± She murmured, ¡°Just so you can finish something you were meant to do six years ago. You won¡¯t use me to clean up your mistakes and kill off the remaining Motloes. I won¡¯t have a hand in that, and I won¡¯t be a pawn in your schemes. I am done being used by people who don¡¯t care about me, do you understand?¡±


    He tilted his head, his fingers pressing into her arm. They didn¡¯t hurt, but she couldn¡¯t pull away if she tried. ¡°I am your father. You will do as I say. If I tell you to stand back as I finish off those worthless cambions, then you will listen. I am the only thing that is keeping you safe from those magicians sifting through the burning remains of your home.¡±


    ¡°You were never my father!¡± She exclaimed, his sudden proclamation making her feel angry. ¡°I had a dad, and he was the man who raised me and nurtured me. He taught me all the things I know, and made sure that I felt loved and cared for. What have you given me that he hasn¡¯t? Cold words and lectures? A grimoire that has done nothing to help me? My dad died years ago. You don¡¯t have the right to call yourself my father. You are nobody.¡±


    He¡¯s silent. Ana hates that. She finally yelled at him, and he didn¡¯t respond like she thought he would. Instead, he let go of her arm and backed away from her.


    ¡°You have disobeyed me. You will not go unpunished.¡±


    She slowly shook her head, hands at her sides and head lowered to the ground. ¡°I don¡¯t need you anymore. Don¡¯t come to me, don¡¯t talk to me, don¡¯t ask me to do anything. You are not my father, and you are not my protector.¡±


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    He raised his head and lifted his arm to point back to the direction of her house. ¡°Fine then. If you don¡¯t need me to survive, then you should have no problem with the magicians who are planning to investigate this area. Magical disturbances don¡¯t go unnoticed, you should know that.¡±


    She let out a cackle of laughter, not taking her eyes off of him. ¡°You¡¯re not¡­you¡¯re not complaining. Which could only mean you¡¯re still going to use me to find their mom. You¡¯re typical, you know that?¡±


    He lowered his arm and turned around, but stilled. ¡°There will be consequences to your actions. Don¡¯t forget that.¡±


    He vanished, and Ana swallowed in fear. Beau¡¯s reminder repeated in her head, that he couldn¡¯t harm her but he could still harm others close to her. He saw Logan when she hung out with Ana a week prior, and she hoped he didn¡¯t remember her.


    Unfortunately, that was a problem for later. For now, she had to leave and figure out what her plans were. As she walked further into the woods, she thought about what to do. Her house was burning along with everything in it, she didn¡¯t have anything except for her phone and a piece of chalk she kept for emergencies, and no money. The Creed of Solomon was now chasing after her, most likely for the death of Deacon. The appearance of Beau had made her realize she knew nothing of the demonic world, and that she had been living for the past twenty-two years with her head in the sand. If she had any hopes of surviving¡­then she had to ask for his help. But to do that, they needed to complete their deal. Technically speaking, Beau had done his part of the deal, although Ana believed it had only raised more questions than answers. Her father had known about the Motloes since before the incident, so why did he wait until she was almost close to death to kill them? Why hide the truth in the first place? None of it made sense.


    It seemed one of the few choices she had was to recover her memories. No more listening to other people recant the tale, she could no longer trust anybody to tell her truthfully what happened. Beau was was more masterful when it came to mageia, and Ana was sure he would know how to break the spell that was blocking her memories.


    A new deal offer then. Protection and knowledge, in exchange for his mother¡¯s whereabouts. She wasn¡¯t sure if Beau would still be willing to complete the deal with her, but he seemed to be an honorable man, the whole I-planned-to-kill-you-in-that-basement thing aside. He once said that he would still respond if she tried to summon him, and she hoped he would keep his promise.


    She reached a lazy river with a low, flat cliff hanging over it. She climbed up to the top and sat down under the darkening sky. She pulled out the piece of chalk and drew a basic sigil for summoning demons. She didn¡¯t need to use it, but she hoped the sigil would help coax Beau¡¯s mageia out of her core. That, too, would also have to be dealt with. The thought that she had an important piece of magic within her that belonged to somebody else was¡­strange.


    She sighed and pocketed the piece of chalk after she finished drawing the sigil. She crossed her legs and placed her hands on her knees, palms facing the air. She didn¡¯t have the scent capsules used during the training session some time ago, but she didn¡¯t need them. Imagining the scent was almost as good as actually smelling it, so that¡¯s what she did. Sandalwood and¡­fresh snow, was it? Woody and crisp at the same time. Woody and crisp.


    Mageia pooled in her hands and spilled from in between her fingers, given no direction or spell to be used in. Could Beau feel this? She hoped he could. She didn¡¯t know what else to do. She didn¡¯t know any other spells she could use that would get his attention. She slowly and carefully cupped her hands together, watching as the dark, heavy, amber mist pooled to the middle of her fingers and slowly poured onto the sigil before her. It covered the chalk-drawn marking before fading away into the air once it reached the edge of the cliff. She felt calm as she watched the serene, amber mist. All of her fear and anger from the past few days were melting away as she sat there, the lazy river flowing in front of her and the sky slowly brightening with stars. She sighed and closed her eyes, reaching out to summon more of the strange mageia from her core.


    She thought of Beau, his dark eyes and dark hair, his soft but ruined hands, and his kind heart. She didn¡¯t know where Beau had gone after running away with Judas, but she needed him. She needed his protection from the Creed of Solomon, and his knowledge about the demonic world she had fought so hard to stay away from.


    ¡°Beau¡­our deal isn¡¯t done.¡±


    END OF BOOK ONE.