by LJ Swallow
A tiny voice inside pushes in a warning. Following two demons across a darkened campus, towards an even darker park, isn't a smart move. But I push past the fear creeping across my scalp like spiders and follow anyway. The voice screams at me to run back to Jack, but my soul hunter instinct forces me onwards.
Keir crosses the empty street and Alexander follows, the tall figures blending into the night as the darkened park engulfs them. Do or die time. With a deep breath, I plunge after them.
Voices carry through the trees, and I hang back beneath the branches, aware I can’t move too near to Alexander before he senses me. The dagger rests against my hip, a soul crystal in my pocket. But I only have one of each, and there’re two of them.
“Okay, Keir. Stop. What's so important?” asks Alexander.
The face of the demon is impossible to make out in the darkness. His tall form rivals Keir's perfect sculpture, and I predict his looks will match Keir’s too.
“I need to know where they are.”
“Who?”
“The other Nephilim who chose to walk away from the demons too. Did you kill them?”
Alexander pushes a hand through his thick, brown hair, and steps towards Keir. “So it's true? You joined them?”
“What do you think? I'm not running around doing what others tell me.”
“You're naïve, Keir.” He pauses, stepping up to Keir and taking up every inch of his personal space. “No, not naive, a fucking idiot if you think you can walk away. Both sides are looking for you. Somebody will kill you.”
I step back in alarm as Keir grabs the demon by the throat. “I should kill you.”
Alexander drags Keir's hand away. “Big mistake and you know that. If you kill me, your essence will be all over me. Then your death will be next.”
“But I'm not going to,” he hisses.
No. I am. And I'm being played, by Darius, by Keir, by anyone who can punch through to Dahlia's vulnerability and her weakness for humans. Keir wants help to kill this demon, to ensure no one knows he's responsible. And then Keir will kill me.
“So she is?” asks Alexander, glancing towards the tree I hide behind.
Before I can react, a blurred figure crosses towards me, arrested by Keir's matched speed and hand on his chest. Alexander huffs the air from his lungs, then steps back, regarding me through narrowed eyes.
I catch my first real look at Alexander. Like every demon I encounter recently, he has the physique of a male model: tall and toned. So they finally figured things out, the Demon Lords? Sneaking around in the dark and pouncing on victims isn't as successful as flattering and seducing the souls from people. The demons they’re creating now won’t frighten anyone. Not until they see death in the demon’s face.
But this isn’t something created by the Demon Lords. Alexander's porcelain skin is flawlessly smooth, and his shining eyes are a human green. I suck in a breath and back away—this demon is a different race. Vampire. What Alexander could do to me is worse than death. Darius said Alexander is a powerful demon, but omitted the fact he’s a vampire. No wonder Darius never showed me a picture.
Alexander laughs at me, a quiet mocking sound. “This? This is what the Caelestia sent after me? Look at her!”
If I weren’t terrified, his condescension would infuriate me. Alexander holds a hand as if to touch my face, and Keir slaps it down.
“Aww. Bet she only brought a dagger too. That was mean of you, Keir.”
Keir remains between Alexander and me, and I attempt to stay focused, debating whether it's too late to run. There's no point. I wouldn’t get far.
“Why?” I whisper to Keir.
“Yes, Keir, why?” Alexander twists from Keir's grip and grabs at my jacket.
Before his hand reaches me, Alexander flies across the copse as if pushed by an invisible force and slams into a tree opposite. I wince at the sickening thud, relieved he's away from me.
The dazed vampire slumps to the ground, struggles to stand, but can’t. “You don't know who you're messing with,” he growls.
I take my chance, begin to run, but Keir catches my arm gently tugging me back. “Dahlia, no.”
“You bastard! Why did you bring me here?” I yell at him.
“I told you! To kill him. It's what you want!”
“And then you'll kill me!”
“No, I won't; just focus, Dahlia.”
“How? How will I kill him? He's a vampire...”
Keir sighs and releases my arm. As his hand disappears into my jacket pocket, I gasp, affronted by his intrusive touch. “Get the fuck off me!”
“Here.” He opens my hand and slams the soul crystal from my pocket into my palm. “And here.” Keir pulls a wooden stake from inside his jacket and holds it out.
I glance between him and the vampire who’s now successfully struggling to his feet. “He's too strong!”
“I said I'd help.”
Do I have the energy? The stress of the last few hours has exhausted my body. Taking on a vampire, in the company of a Nephilim who could take us both down in seconds needs more than adrenaline. I need a miracle.
Alexander charges back towards me, and Keir knocks him back without even touching him, and slams him against the same tree. He crumples back to the ground.
Keir walks over to Alexander. “So where did they go?”
“The Nephilim cowards? How the fuck should I know?”
Keir steps back and turns. “Okay, he knows nothing. Stake him.”
Alexander swears at Keir, struggles to stand but can only manage by holding onto the tree. In a way, I'm relieved he can't attack again, but this also confirms the absolute strength Keir has. If he can take on a powerful demon like Alexander and throw him around like a child, I have no hope.
“Then will I be next?” I ask.
“Next?”
“On your target list?”
Keir smacks his forehead. “For fuck’s sake, soul hunter, realise when someone is doing you a favour! Just stake him!”
In my moment of hesitation, Alexander lurches towards me. Keir’s quicker. He trips Alexander, then stamps down on his throat. Alexander gasps, pulling at Keir’s foot. This is surreal. I shake the sight of one powerful demon killing another from my mind, as I curl my fingers round the smooth wooden stake. Killing a vampire is a new experience for me; soul hunters don’t kill vampires because they’d never survive.
“Now!” Keir yells.
Pulled out of my stupefied state, I walk over and raise my arm with the movement of an automaton. Alexander’s wide eyes narrow in anger, but he’s unable to speak with Keir’s foot against his neck. Stepping forward, I blink down at the struggling demon. Whatever happened to my old reality? In a dreamlike sequence, I pierce the vampire’s chest with the stake, his strangled yell barely audible and leave the stake in his heart before stumbling backwards, soul crystal in my outstretched palm. The sounds and colours meld and blur around me. Am I dreaming? No, Jack would be here if I were.
As the vampire's soul snakes from his mouth and above his head, Keir sucks a breath through his teeth. The cloud drifts towards the crystal in my palm and Keir turns away, looking to the sky. I don't watch the soul; I watch the strange spectacle of the Nephilim who helped me kill a demon turning away, allowing me live.
“Did you get it?” he asks, still facing into the trees.
“Yes.” I curl my fingers around the gem.
Keir turns back to me, and I weigh up his stance. My turn to die? I’m not preparing to fight him, because what's the point? I ready for the assault. Will his attack be magical or physical? How long will my death take?
But Keir isn't coiled to attack, his tall figure is relaxed, and I wish I could see him well enough in the dark to read his face. I surreptitiously place the gem in my pocket. Will the death hurt more if I run?
Keir approaches me, too quickly and too determined. I knew it. He slams his outstretched hand against my forehead, and I reel backwards.
“Good luck, Dahlia
.” Keir’s touch feels as if he’s slicing a dagger behind my eyes and scraping the blade across my brain.
These are the last words I hear, and in the remaining moments of consciousness, all I can see is Jack’s face. Pain overcomes me, and I black out.
19
JACK
I kick the polystyrene food container and the congealed food inside spills across the pavement. Stepping around it, I march across campus, towards the bus stop. Why would she do this? Faith's wrong—the guy Dahlia was with is probably a demon. Sure... Listen to yourself, Jack. Male insecurity sweeps in: was I crap in bed? Not enough for her? Faith said he looked pretty hot; I bet he has more experience too. No. Again, the logical explanation is he’s some kind of demon. Plus Faith was nowhere near them; the girl might not’ve been Dahlia.
When I arrive at the bus stop, I rest against the metal edge and pull out my phone. Before I have a chance to send a message, a double-decker bus arrives. I follow a group of girls up the steps and settle onto one of the cracked vinyl seats. Dahlia doesn't answer her phone, so I text her. No response. I guess she's in the middle of whatever it is she does when she kills demons. I try again at the end of the twenty minute bus ride—no response.
She was cagey tonight, before she left. Is something wrong because of this Nephilim stuff and her fears for the future? The Nephilim. If he's found her, killed her... Then what? Pursue him and bring him to justice? I laugh, like that's going to happen. Dahlia didn't describe him; Nephilim could have two heads for all I know.
As I cross the grounds towards the halls blocks, I pause. Maybe she's back in her room; I told her to come over later. Maybe she came back early? Perhaps she's sleeping? Explanations circle around my mind as I grasp at anything, which will stop me sinking into the fear of what could really have happened.
I knock, softly at first, then hammer insistently. Dahlia's not in her room, or she doesn't want to answer. I'm torn between waiting here and returning to my room. I make the decision and lope away.
There's only one thing for it. I sit, plug back into my laptop, and prepare to kick the crap out of my own, virtual demons. This way I won't watch the time pass or obsess about where she is.
I tip a few last drops from the can into my mouth. Putting the empty can down, I scan my desk for another and realise I've drank all four energy drinks. Smart move, Jack, you won't be able to sleep now. I stretch out my arms and tip back in my chair. I’ve managed a fair bit of farming tonight; my character’s bags are nice and full, as is my gold count. Rubbing my eyes, I check the clock on my laptop, the one I've avoided looking at.
Two o’clock. Shit. I jump up and grab my jacket. Now I'm worried. The door slams behind me as I run over to Dahlia's room, checking my phone for messages and dialling hers. Something is very wrong. We spend every night together; Dahlia sleeps with me now—ever since the first night.
Faith spots her with a stranger, and now she hasn't come home. My stupid human jealousy misunderstood. He’s not a rival but a fucking demon.
By the time I reach Dahlia’s room, my heart pounds blood into my ears; not from the exertion, but because I'm bloody terrified, terrified I'll never see her again. I hammer on the door in panic, so loudly it wakes her neighbour. The girl appears at her own door, dishevelled brown hair sticking up. She pulls a dressing gown across her striped pjs.
“She's not there, or she doesn't want to see you. Shut the hell up!” The door slams.
I sink to the floor and grab onto my hair. The strange emptiness returns, as if someone has cut a hole in my chest and dragged part of me out. Dahlia isn't around anymore. I know this with a certainty I can't explain, because I've experienced this sensation before. She's gone.
20
DAHLIA
I slump in the chair, barely able to hold my head up. Every muscle in my body aches, and in some places as if they’re removed altogether. And my head—someone stuffed it with cotton wool because no thoughts are in there, and I have no memory of the last few hours. Or days? How long have I been back here? I chew my nails, staring at the crystal on the table, hoping it contains what I think.
The heavy door behind closes with a thud, and I start as Darius crosses the room. Without uttering a sound, he picks up the crystal and cups it in his hands, closing his grey eyes. A few seconds later, he opens them and frowns.
“How did you do it?” he asks, tone a mixture of curiosity and hardness.
“What?”
“Retrieve Alexander's soul?”
I balk. “That's Alexander's soul?”
“You don't know?” Darius sets the crystal down and sits across the table, in his encompassing leather chair.
“I don't remember.”
“You don’t remember what? The fight? How did you do this?”
“I have gaps in my memories. I think someone was with me, but I don't know who.”
Darius’s black curtain of hair falls forward as he leans towards me. “Someone? Who?”
My weakened muscles tense. Isn't the fact Darius has the soul enough? “Sir, I don't know.”
Cold eyes regard me, and I hold his look, praying Darius can see the honesty in mine.
“And you met no one else in your time there apart from humans?”
I don’t think I did, but the corners of my mind are shadowed. Something’s missing. “There’s also the demons I killed. I collected quite a few extra souls...” As if this offering would make up for whatever unknown failure he's accusing me of.
“Yes, yes.” He waves his hand dismissively and picks the crystal back up. “Incredible.”
I jerk my leg rhythmically in panic. Darius's mood is difficult to comprehend at the best of times, and I've heard of soul hunters killed on a whim for saying the wrong thing.
A smile cracks his face, his thin lips spread widely. “You did very well, Dahlia.”
The anxiety doesn't drop as I wait for his additional but.
Darius slides open a drawer and locks away the crystal. Then he sits back and rests the tips of his fingers under his chin.
“So, your Will. Do you still want it?”
He’s offering me my Will? Is this reality?
“My Will?” I whisper.
“Unfortunately, I'm bound to this. I'd love to send you back to hunt more souls, but the Caelestia think you're a liability. Humans aren't as stupid as they look, they’ll figure out there’s something different about you if you mix with them too much.” He pauses, voice hardening. “But you knew that, didn’t you?”
Jack. Is he okay? Has Keir hurt him?
“Personally, I think they're being too charitable. But I'm being held to my word, as usual. So, I ask again. Do you want your Will?”
I grip the chair arms and stare out of the window at the free world he’s offering. Darius is offering freedom.
“I am confused by your hesitation. Do you want to return to the Fated instead?” There's a curl at the corner of Darius's mouth and a spark of amusement in his eyes.
I don’t want my Will anymore; I'd swap everything for a life with Jack in the human world. I found him, and I’m convinced we were supposed to find each other, but have no idea why. The pull to him is unbreakable. Even when we’re far apart, it’s as if an invisible cord holds us together. As each minute I’m away from him passes, the hollow feeling inside grows.
I desire a different kind of freedom.
I close my eyes, battling against what I'm about to say, but something inside compels me, and the words spill out.
“I want to return.”
“To hunt?”
“To stay.”
Darius's mask slips momentarily, surprise registering on his face before he carefully rearranges his angular features into an impassive look. “Stay? With the humans? Are you insane?”
Probably. Logic drags me back to where I am, reminding me of the stupidity of my dream. Human life. Human frailties. The inevitability of ageing and death.
“This is unheard of. I would see this a worse punishment than
throwing you back to the Fated and you're asking for it? Do you know what happens if you are exiled?”
Words won't come anymore, so I shake my head.
“You lose everything but your form, soul hunter. Every power from the angel part of yourself is removed, and you will be as frail as you look. You will age. You will die. And in between you will feel pain, hurt, loss... Humans are fickle. He’s young. Do you seriously think this boy will be with you forever?”
Love. I can be loved. But Darius’s words hit home—I will lose what I am. But what choice is there? Jack can never be part of this world, and I don’t think the connection between us will ever leave me. Even if our souls are torn apart, Jack will consume my thoughts from now until forever.
“I don't care.” I'm not sure he can hear my words. I can barely hear them.
Darius’s mouth sets into a hard line. “Fine. We have done this before, but as punishment. I personally think you should be punished for the way you have behaved over the last few months, behaving like you are human to the detriment of your mission. I will recommend what you ask, and you will regret this decision for the rest of the pathetic human life we give you.”
21
JACK
The last time Dahlia disappeared, the same sensation came over me, as if someone delved inside my chest and tore away part of my insides. When Dahlia is around, I sense her; even when she isn't with me, I somehow know she's near.
And Dahlia is nowhere near.
Somehow, I know she's alive. Something inside, this weird bond we share, tells me the Nephilim thing didn't kill her. Dahlia's alive, but not in this world anymore. She hasn’t been for several days.
Memories of Dahlia’s earlier disappearance—when she left for months—fill my mind and my day. I stumble around campus, dazed by how suddenly life caved in. Kyle asks where Dahlia is, but one look shuts him up. Faith makes a snarky comment about Dahlia, and I lose my shit with her, stress pouring out in anger vented in her direction. Behaving like this isn’t me, but I don't feel like me anymore.
