My mouth was dry. I had no idea. I thought of myself as this amazing and great hunter while it could not be further from the truth. Sure, I did ace my physical test. But I made some very big mistakes earlier. Rookie mistakes.
“So where is she now…” I did not know if I actually wanted to know the answer to my question. The girl’s smile was gone. “She… she was killed. She was sent back to hell” My heart skips a beat at the last word. “It’ll take her at least a century to get sent back up here. Some greater demons have portals, but no way she would join Asmodeus and his men. She’s stubborn.” She stomps her foot on the floor while giving me a weak smile. “I will hopefully see her again soon.” A warm glow spread through her eyes. “You loved her deeply, didn’t you?” I asked her. “She was the love of my life.”
The girl drinks one last time of her coffee before slushing it down the drain. “Weak shit.” She grimaces. “Anyway…” She says as she turns back to me. “I promise we will have your back. You just have to trust us.”
She takes her leather jacket off the hook by the door and turns the lock. “I’m Danny by the way.” She smiles at me. Her eyes are still sad, and I can read the loss in them. “Nice to meet you Danny.” I smile back.
A warm feeling spread through me when she closed the door. I bite my lip to stop the tears from falling.
I need to apologise to Daimon.
Chapter 17
The sun had already gone down when Daimon got the call. He was silent at first, listening to the hysteric voice on the other side of the line. His mouth was a thin line, a deep frown set between his dark red eyes.
“Please.” It was the first time he spoke in over a minute. “Slower, Natasja, Slower.” His voice was like satin. He was obviously trying to anchor the lady on the other side of the line.
“Where are you?” He then asked. I heard the crying voice on the other side of the line say something quickly before snickering a last “Help us”.
Daimon nodded and told Natasja he would be there as soon as possible, that he would help them and that she should get her kid and the rest of her group to safety.
When he looked up, I could read the anger and the desperation in his eyes. “Natasja and the community were attacked.” Daimon says silently. I don’t know whether demons have blood like we humans do or not, but it seems like all the blood had left his pale face.
Danny, who was cleaning her nails with a dirk in the corner of the room looked up. Her black curls danced over her cheeks. “What do you mean? Attacked?”
Her eyes flickered to me, then to Kathy who had been asleep on the sofa for the past two hours.
“It’s not hunters.” Daimon says. He takes a step in my direction as to protect me. “It’s Asmodeus.” He gives me a stern look. “Retaliation for what we did at St Paul’s if I had to guess. He attacked the community just outside of Woolwich. Four dead at least.”
My throat feels try and I can feel a massive weight press down on my chest. I can’t breathe. These people were attacked because of me? Because of an arrogant mistake I made?
I swallow as I look up at Daimon. “How can we help?” But he was already shaking his head. “I think you did enough.”
“The best healer I know is asleep on that couch.” I point at Kathy snoring softly on the brown leather sofa. Her short chubby legs dangle over the side and her red hair is an absolute mess. “And if you want her help, I am going to have to come with you.” I stand my ground.
Daimon sighs and looks at Danny. Danny shrugs and tips her head towards the door. “Let’s go then.”
***
The outside air rushes past me as we shoot straight up into the dense February night. I am always surprised by how warm it is in Daimon’s arms, and how strong his thick black wings are. We break through the clouds and I notice how the dew had stuck to my hair.
The moon and the stars shone beautifully above us. I close my eyes as I breathe in his scent.
Daimon had hardly said a word since we woke up Kathy to go with us. I collected some towels, we took a first aid kit, bought some cheap vodka as disinfectant in the little corner shop downstairs and practically raided their supply of brightly coloured kid’s band-aids – because those were the only ones Mr Singh had left.
“This community…” I mumbled into his warm chest. I could feel him looking down onto my head. “It’s the one your sister started, isn’t it?” Silence. My heart was beating in my throat.
When Daimon returned to the little apartment after my tantrum, he refused to speak to me. He had poured himself a cup of coffee and helped Gustav and Kathy with some books. I had never ever felt so useless as then.
Sure, I could help them go through books and look up stuff… but it was not a secret that my school results were absolute crap. I had always put more stock in being a good fighter. Now I am sorry that I did not realise that being a good hunter was so much more than knowing how to fire a crossbow or how to untie stupid knots.
I had taken a book onto my lap. Most of it was in Latin. I failed Latin so hard that Mr Hazleton had called my parents for an emergency meeting. My dad and mom were pretty disappointed in me and my dad had me running laps every day for 2 hours… at 4 am.
I never really believed them when they said, “Your brain needs to be your sharpest weapon”. I made a mental note to apologise and to take up private lessons in Latin… and every other subject I so blatantly failed at school.
Kathy had thrown me a little smile when she noticed the book on my lap. She knew my Latin did not go much further than Veni Vidi Victory. That was it? Right? I am hopeless…
I dig my face deeper into his T-shirt and soak up his body heath. My bum was cold, and I hoped Daimon-Airlines would soon start its decent.
“Who told you?” His voice was raspy, raw almost. I bit down on my lip. “Danny.” I croaked, scared that I might get her in trouble. He was silent again for a few moments. “Yes. She…” He sighed. “She was sick of hiding, sick of living on the fringe of society.” I could hear his deep voice through his chest. “So, she bought one of those old Victorian terraces as some kind of halfway house for Walkers.” He was silent again, but I knew this was not the end of his story because soon I could hear the soft rumble of his voice through his chest. “Soon enough more and more walkers joined her, bought and rented houses in the area. It was their chance to live a normal, ordinary life amongst humans.” He said.
A swift movement almost threw me off balance, but we were steadily descending through the clouds again. I could see Danny and Kathy following us through the thick white fluffs back into the yellow sheen of the city.
We landed in the backyard of a little Victorian house in a typical suburban London street. Daimon let go of me as soon we were in the little garden. Glass cracked under my worn Van’s.
All windows were broken and an orange glow from inside the living room told me something was on fire.
“Daimon!” A beautiful blonde woman came running out of the broken patio doors. “Thank god you are here!” She burrowed herself in his arms. His hand cradled her head and he closed his wings around her petite body.
Danny and Kathy had landed beside us. “Take Danny and the ginger one to the wounded.” He pointed in Kathy’s general direction. Show me what happened.
“what should I do?” I ask, my voice almost breaking when I step over the broken glass. Daimon shrugs and looks back at me. “Just stay out of trouble. Don’t touch anything please. Come when I call you.”
I frown and bite my tongue. I’m not a dog. I snort and start making my way through the debris of what looks like a cosy living room. The glass crackles under my shoes and I lift a heavy wooden plank that once was part of a bookcase to pick up a disgruntled teddy bear.
Shit. I swallow hard to battle the despair I feel rising in my stomach. There were kids here. The teddy bear in my hands smiles at me. A bit of stitching peeps out of a little hole in his stomach and one of his eyes is dangling on a thread.
I look up and see
a scared little face stare down at me. A large hole seemed to have been blasted through the little living room into a children’s bedroom upstairs. I can see the bright orange wallpaper on the walls above me and the two cute bunk beds against the wall.
“Hallo?” I try. The little face with pigtails disappears. We need to get the kids out of here at least. This is not a safe environment. This is… a death trap.
The little kitchen by the living room is completely destroyed. A small fire originating from the broken oven fills the air with smoke and water is spouting onto the floor from the broken tap. I make my way through the debris, trying to avoid any of the water, while looking for a way up to the kids’ room.
On my left an open door reveals a large garage. I can see Kath’s ginger hair move around as she unpacks the bag, she brought with her. At least ten people – demons – were sitting and lying in the garage. Half of one man’s face was scorched while a little girl was crying in the corner of the garage as Danny was taking care of her ear that seemed to have been ripped off. The smell of scorched flesh and burnt hair hits me in the face.
I feel sick coming up. My stomach turns and churns. I try to fight the acidic taste in my mouth and was happy that the designer of the house was smart enough to install a toilet under the stairs. I empty my stomach in the white porcelain pot as I feel a hand grab my long black hair.
I look up. I was expecting to meet Kathy’s caring eyes but was surprised by Daimon’s worried face. “You okay?” he asked. I nodded, wiping my mouth with a bit of toilet paper and flushing everything through the toilet. “It’s just…”
A small smile appears on Daimon’s face. “I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
Just as fast as he came, he disappeared again, probably helping Natasja or Danny. I peered back into the garage. My palms are sweaty. I never thought that… I shake my head and try to ignore the thought.
I knew I was standing on the edge of an emotional break down. The last thing I needed after throwing up was breaking down.
I make my way up the stairs, avoiding any of the loose and missing steps. The devastation and destruction upstairs mimics that below.
Asmodeus is a sick fuck.
I walk past walls full of pictures of smiling families, kids and teenagers. Pictures by the Eiffel Tower, one on Time’s Square and many on the beach, by lakes and around the house and garden. If I didn’t know any better, I would have said that this was the house of a perfectly normal British family – or families. There was nothing evil about this place. Nothing infernal.
I recognise the orange wallpaper of the children’s room at the end of the hallway. I step over holes and smouldering bits of wooden floor. They were lucky the house did not burn down…
Three little girls and a boy sit on one of the lowest beds of the two big bunk beds in the room. A girl with bright ginger hair is playing a game on her old Gameboy while the other ones cheer her on.
“Hey…” I tried to get their attention. The little girl with the pig tails looks up. Her eyes grow big as she pushes herself away from me. I look over my shoulder. Was he back? Was there someone behind me? The other kids followed her gaze. The ginger girl with the Gameboy started screaming and I am pretty sure the little boy peed himself.
A strong hand pulls me away and I stumble back into the hallway. “What the hell do you think you are doing.” His stern voice whispered loud in my ear. I shoot Daimon a bewildered smile. “I just…” He shakes his head. “You just weren’t thinking… is that it?” He snapped at me. Jeez, what bit him in the ass.
I pull my shoulder free out of his grip and straighten my now dishevelled leather jacket. “No.” I snap back. “I just wanted to go and keep those kids’ company. They seemed like they needed some…”
He shakes his head. “Don’t you get it?” the look in his eyes is softer now. “Those kids just witnessed their house being ransacked, the little boy lost both his parents – and he doesn’t know it yet.” He slumps against the wall. “They have been taught to be scared of everything, everyone.” He shoots me a little smile. “And especially hunters.”
I sigh. Of course. “I am sorry…” It felt like a massive lump of barbed wire had lodged itself in my throat. I bite my tongue to keep myself from crying.
“Your grandmother always spoke so highly of you.” He says, kicking away the last little piece of wood that kept my levees from breaking. Tears started rolling over my dusty cheeks. “She was a friend to all of us.” He continues. “Look.” He beckons me to a picture on the other side of the hallway.
At least a dozen smiling faces stare back at me. It looked like a family picture, everyone smiling at the camera on a bright summer day in front of an old oak tree somewhere in the countryside. There are picnic baskets and footballs and tennis rackets and… and there she is. I recognise that mischievous smile anywhere. Right in the middle, next to magnificent lady with bright red hair stands my grandmother. She has her arms thrown over the people next to her, hugging them tight.
“That’s my sister.” He points at the girl on the other side of my grandmother. A pale young woman with raven black hair and a kind smile plastered over her face.
“Thank you.” I say quietly. He has no idea how much this picture means to me. He has no idea how much this stroke of grey, this third way, means to me. A friendship between hunters and demons… my heart skipped a beat at the absolute greatness of that concept.
“Who’s that?” I point at the woman with the bright orange hair. “Oh.” He chuckles quietly. “That is Anne. She is a force of nature that one. Human as well. Not a hunter of course, but... just normal.” My eyes widen as the realisation hits me. “So, humans know that demons…” there’s that smile again. “Paul told Anne about his ‘predicament’ on their first anniversary when they were still dating. She didn’t care. I think you met their daughter inside?” He points at the kids’ room.
I frown. “That girl inside is…” He nods as his gaze follows my finger to the kid’s room. “So, she is a warlock?” I am baffled. Warlocks are dangerous. They are wicked. Or that’s what they always told me. They had no care in the world for good and evil – they only thought about themselves. I never saw them as innocent, as kids.
“All the kids are.” He says quietly. “A Demon birth is almost impossible outside of hell. They are almost all stillbirths as they need heat and phosphor to grow.”
“Will they be all right?” I ask, referring to the kids mostly. Daimon nods. They are driving to another safe house down in Surrey later this evening. It will be too dangerous to fly. We should take a bus home or at least call an uber. He said looking at the watch on his wrist. “We just got words of Asmodeus putting up patrols in above London, he probably wants to catch us out.”
“Kathy is almost ready taking care of the wounded. We should be off soon.” He says as he starts making his way back over the landing to the staircase.
I look at the kids’ room one more time, vowing to put this right. Making a promise to myself and the kids in that room, that they should not worry about hunters in the future. That it will be our sworn task to keep ALL good in the world safe.
Chapter 18
The bus journey took ages. We had to wait half an hour in the cold before the big red double decker showed up. We had hardly said a word to each other.
Kathy had failed to rub the blood off her hands and was hiding them as well as she could in the pockets of her thick black coat. I felt stupid for setting off to London with nothing more than a leather jacket in the middle of winter. Typically me.
It wasn’t until a ray of sunlight hit me straight in the face that I woke up from my horrible nightmare. The images of the house, the kids, the wounded… they had left a deep impression. It took me a while to fall asleep last night and I am sure Kathy had been crying on the sofa on the other side of the room.
I’m a great friend if I say so myself, but I am not that good with comforting people – or giving great adv
ice, so I decided to ignore it for now and see how she was in the morning.
The smell of fresh coffee entered my nose and just as I throw off the heavy blankets the rasping sound of the broken mechanical doorbell rings through the house.
Danny, who had appeared in the door, froze. She looks at me. Eyes big. I can read the panic in them. The absolute fear.
Who would ring the bell at 9 am? Why would someone ring a bell here? She beckons someone on the other side of the hall and an unshaven, unwashed Gustav comes into sight. He was wearing a plaid bath robe and ditto slippers. I can hear the rattling of keys, a little mumble, a thank you and then a thump when Gustav closes the door again.
Both Danny and Gustav enter the room, eyes on me. In his hands, Gustav holds a large and seemingly heavy brown package. “Are you crazy?” Danny starts at me.
I have no idea what she is talking about. “Ordering stuff to this address?” She wipes her forehead. “I don’t care you are her grandchild. You are a goddamn moron. That’s what you are. I should never have…” She sighed. “Here.” Danny pulls the package out of Gustav’s hands and throws it onto the little air mattress I had bought at Mr Singh’s yesterday.
The brown paper ruffles in my hands as I pick up the heavy parcel. ‘Isabelle Whitelock’ it says in beautiful black curly handwriting.
Wait a minute… my heart starts to beat faster and I feel blood rushing to my head. This is…
“Guys! My grandmother sent us this!” I call out. Danny stops dead in her tracks on her way out of the room. “What do you mean?” She asks, pushing some of her wild curls behind her ears.
I hold up the heavy parcel and point out the handwriting on the front. “This is her handwriting!” I tear into the parcel. The brown paper makes room for a marvellous read leather. A book.
The Aberrant Sword Page 8
