The Complete Demonblood Saga

by Penelope King

  Kieron nods. “Sounds good,” he says. I want to punch him. And her. Drusilla spins on an inappropriately high heel and stalks away, but not before flashing me a death-ray glare.

  Walking down a hallway with Kieron is an entirely new experience for me. Even when it’s filled with bustling bodies scurrying between classrooms and lockers, I’m usually given a pretty wide berth. But Kieron seems to have the exact opposite effect on people. They’re all moving closer, trying to be as near him as possible, hoping to meet his gaze, or, if really lucky, ‘accidentally’ touch him on their way past. It’s sort of like being with a celebrity. I’m thinking how the only thing missing is the flashing light bulbs of paparazzi when I catch Carrie Stevens snapping a picture of him with her cell phone. And now I’m embarrassed for my entire gender.

  “So, I don’t want to impose myself on you, but I was serious when I asked if you wouldn’t mind helping me catch up to speed on the reading. Mr. Sodenberg excused me from the paper due next week, but I’m not a dumb guy, and I’d really like to pull my own weight. Get started off on the right foot, if you know what I mean.”

  “If you want to get started off on the right foot I don’t really recommend hanging around me,” I say quietly. Right now the only thing outnumbering the desirous looks sent Kieron’s way are the hateful ones being sent toward me.

  He stops and places his hand lightly on my arm. My stomach threatens to leap into my chest, and I have to avert my eyes from his intense stare. “Why would you say that? I asked several people who the smartest person in our class was and they all said you.”

  “I’m sure that’s not all they said,” I mumble, very aware of his hand still resting on my arm.

  “That’s the only part I listened to,” he replies with a small smile. Our eyes lock.

  I take a deep breath. “Okay, if you’re really desperate, I guess I can help you out. But if you change your mind, I’ll understand.”

  “I won’t.” His eyes are sparkling again. “When’s a good time for you? My afternoons and evenings are free for you—”

  “Afternoons only,” I say hurriedly. “Evenings are out. Totally.” He gives a quizzical glance but just nods.

  “I understand. Hey, thanks a lot. I really appreciate it.”

  “No problem…today’s no good, though,” I add as I remember a special errand I have to do later.

  “Tomorrow, then?”

  I nod.

  The warning bell rings, and we enter class together. This time, I’m not surprised when he takes the empty seat beside me.

  “So, we meet again.” He raises an eyebrow and winks.

  For the first time in a long time, I laugh.

  ******

  Tatiana is sitting in the lotus-position levitating dried rose petals when I get home. I know better than to bother her when she’s ‘feeling the flowers’—her version of reading tea leaves—so I retreat to my room to start my homework and do some laundry.

  I plop on my bed and set up my laptop. First up: A ten page paper on the causes and effects of the French Revolution. Thrill me now. I deliberate for about thirty seconds before my fingers fly across the keyboard, and less than twenty minutes later I’m done, footnotes and all. I spend five more minutes on Trig, an assignment that’ll take even the brightest of my classmates over an hour to complete.

  Sigh. I can’t even count on schoolwork to distract me for very long. Again, my thoughts return to Kieron. Not that they’re ever really far away from him. He’s always there…lurking in the back of my mind, patiently waiting for me to indulge in the fantasy. The one where I don’t turn into a monster at dusk. The one where someday I’ll be able to find happiness with him, or maybe even someone else. The one where I can fall in love and live happily ever after.

  Yeah, that fantasy. The completely insane, ridiculous, and impossible one.

  I decide to surf the web for a bit and click on the page for local news. When I see the headline I gasp…sickened:

  LOCAL MURDERS HAVE CITIZENS ON EDGE

  Beneath the headline are three pictures: an adorable little girl who looks to be around five or six, a teenage boy with pimples and a huge smile, and a middle-aged black man. All of them look so happy.

  I scan the article. Few clues and no apparent connection between the victims. All were brutally murdered, either at home, or in the case of the little girl, right outside. It says she was killed playing on her front porch as her mom ran inside to answer the phone. She’d been gone less than three minutes and returned to find her daughter’s head twisted clean off.

  “What kind of monsters could be capable of doing something so horrific?” the mother is quoted as saying. I close my computer and taste the bile in my throat.

  I know exactly what kind of monsters are capable of such horrors.

  I was twelve years old when my two best friends were viciously murdered right in front of me. The memory of watching them die is the last thing that Lucky and I experienced as a singular being. After that, she went her way and I went mine. It still makes me nauseous to think that technically I’m part of a breed of monsters that are capable of committing such atrocities.

  Tatiana has told me I shouldn’t hate myself for the actions of a few “bad elements”. Humans kill one another quite regularly, and they don’t despise themselves for the crimes of others. That’s fine. She can say what she wants. She didn’t see what I saw. She doesn’t know what I know. It’s impossible to forget…or forgive…the hideous cruelty that I know flows through my veins.

  Stop it, stop it, stop it!

  I force myself to push away the awful memory and to think of something else. Tall. Nice body. Black hair. Electric blue eyes. Sexy smile…

  Augh!!

  I flip on the radio and start gathering up some clothes to run a wash. I accidentally pick up some slutty red leather ensemble that Lucky wore last night and angrily throw it back in the closet. Even if I wanted to do her laundry—which I most definitely do not—I wouldn’t even know how to wash something like that. I swear she shops at Strippers-R-Us.

  The tantalizing aroma wafting in from the kitchen tells me Tatiana has begun making dinner. I throw the last of my clothes in the washer and join her.

  “Mmm, fried chicken. My favorite,” I say, peeking over her shoulder. A leather satchel rests on the table, and I open it up; it’s filled with money and jewels. I pull out a diamond necklace and admire it. “Can I keep this?” It’s a ridiculous question. Tatiana would never allow it, and besides, when would I ever wear something like this?

  She gives me a look as she sets a plate of fresh chicken beside me, and I reluctantly return the necklace to the bag. “Remove the jewels; I’ll put them in my safe. Lucky already has her instructions about how to divide the cash.”

  Even though it’s me who is going to the bank, I can’t do it all by myself. My job is to be there waiting so Lucky can take over and handle the tellers. Otherwise, they might grow suspicious of a teenage girl coming in with large sacks of cash requesting cashier’s checks for various charities. But under her hypnotizing gaze they do as they’re told, ask no questions, and soon forget they ever saw us. We have to time it perfectly because the bank usually closes right around the time it gets dark.

  “Are you planning on walking or driving into town?” Tatiana asks.

  “It looks like it might rain soon…?” I look at her for confirmation. She presses her lips together and nods.

  “Just a light sprinkling, but not for several hours…you will miss it.”

  Usually, I much prefer to walk. But it’s late afternoon already, and that would be cutting it too close. And I don’t want to put it off until tomorrow; I already have plans to see Kieron. The thought stirs up the butterflies in my stomach.

  “Guess I’ll drive. I wish I could run like She can,” I mumble through a mouthful of food. “Course I guess it doesn’t really matter anyway, seeing as how I have to go through the middle of town and people would see.”

  Tatiana makes a cluc
king noise and scoops up some mashed potatoes. “She has her talents and you have yours. So tell me, how was your day? Better than yesterday?” She has an odd smile on her face.

  Sometimes I wonder just how much Tatiana knows that she doesn’t let on. I know she has the freaky ability to sense anything that moves, human or not, and can read the energies of clothes, even down to knowing what color and material they are. I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me if she knows I’m obsessing on something.

  “Today was…okay,” I say. “No hostile takeovers.”

  “How are classes going?”

  “Fine. Same. Boring.” As much as I want to not think about the horrifying news article, I can’t shake it from my mind. Sighing, I put down my drumstick. “Tat, what do you know about the murders in Pine Canyon? I read about them online and it’s just awful. Is it anything… supernatural?”

  She lets out a long breath and stands up. Walking over to the window she wrings her hands nervously. Now I wish I hadn’t asked.

  “I, too, have seen the death. I wish I could say it was a random act of human on human violence, but I fear it’s not. There is a blackness surrounding the poor souls, and I am unable to decipher the meaning or motivations behind the actions. I do not know what caused it, nor why. I only see an impenetrable darkness.”

  My heart starts racing. Tatiana usually tries to keep me in the dark about demonic activity, or at least use gentle euphemisms—like referring to Michael and Kayla’s murders as “the unfortunate incident”.

  “Am I in danger?” I ask, not sure I want to hear her answer. But, really, when am I not in danger? Lucky risks our lives with alarming regularity.

  “I do not see this as a threat to you at this time. Perhaps it will be an isolated unfortunate event. Of course, if anything changes you will be the first to know and I will implement safeguards.”

  “Okay, sure, whatever you say.” I can’t eat anything more so I clear away the plates and give her a kiss on the cheek. “I better get going. See you tomorrow.” I grab the bag of money and the keys to my Mustang.

  The afternoon sun is beginning its final descent on the horizon. I jump in my car, crank up the stereo, and speed off down the dirt road.

  ******

  This main stretch winding through the heart of Dove Creek is the only source of commerce for miles. Besides the bank, there’s a movie rental place, a pizza parlor and ice cream shop, and a few novelty stores that specialize in hunting and fishing.

  Several people are milling along the sidewalk, so I lean back in the driver’s seat and make myself comfortable. I still have a few more minutes, but I really hope the dinner crowd disperses before it’s time for me to change. I can’t do it in the car…She won’t bother to lock it up or leave the keys in a safe place. Usually I go to the alley behind the bank to transform, but right now there are too many people. Damn Pizza Pete’s and their Tuesday night special.

  After a few minutes the crowd thins. My plan is to sit on the bench until I feel Her approach, then move into the alley way. No problem.

  I lock the car and make my way across the street. Then, I spot Kieron walking down the sidewalk.

  Oh, no. No no no!

  He hasn’t seen me yet…at least I don’t think so. But I have to get away; I can’t let him see me this close to a transformation. Who knows what Lucky will say or do? Especially if Kieron tries to talk to her like she’s me. At best, she’ll laugh in his face. At worst…ugh, I don’t even want to imagine...

  He stops and looks inside the window of The Stinky Fish Bait & Tackle. I dodge into the alleyway, press my back against the side wall and hold my breath. Then I start thinking—the bait shop is closed; he’s not going in there. So unless he turns to go into the bank, he’s most likely heading to either the movie rental or pizza place. That means he’ll have to walk right past me. Crap! All it will take is one little glance in this direction and he’ll see me cowering like a cornered rat…

  I need to hide.

  But there’s nowhere to go. The alley is a dead end. If I go back on the street he’ll surely see me. She’s only seconds away from coming, and so is he. And I will do anything in my power to prevent the two of them from meeting.

  I have no choice.

  Darting over to the enormous grey trash dumpster against the back wall, I struggle to lift its heavy lid. It falls on my fingers, and I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out. I have to get in.

  Finally, I manage to open it wide enough to squeeze inside. “I’m so sorry, Lucky,” I whisper. I don’t even want to think about what I’m sitting on, much less what Lucky will do when she sees where I’ve left her. As the stench of rotting garbage fills my nostrils, I take a last quick breath of fresh air and close the lid.

  Chapter 4. Lucky

  Oh sweet hell this place smells like shit. Where am I? I can’t see anything. I have the money bag in one hand, but the other is touching something squishy. And runny.

  I lean back on my arm and oozy goo slimes through my fingers. I react instinctively, unleashing the rain of fire coursing through my veins. Metal crashes against pavement in a thunderous explosion, and I tumble to the ground amidst a heap of refuge.

  From the pale glow of the street lamps, I assess my surroundings—I’m in the alley beside the bank. Okay, that much I understand. What I don’t get is why I was in with all the garbage.

  Lovely. Just freakin’ lovely. “Dumpster diving now, are we, you disgusting pig?!” I say aloud, hoping somewhere deep inside she hears me. I don’t even care if she has a good reason for leaving me in that filthy place. This is unforgivable and she’s just really flippin’ lucky she ruined her own clothes instead of mine.

  I’m busy cursing Liora’s name and shaking particulates from my hair when I hear a man’s concerned voice. “Excuse me, Miss, are you okay?”

  A small group of Sapies gather near the end of the alley, watching me. They must’ve been attracted to the loud noise. Great. Rolling my eyes I swish my hands, still dripping with goo, and mutter, “Alieno. Leave.” They instantly shuffle away, already forgetting what drew them here in the first place. All except for the one who continues to watch me with an amused grin.

  Fan-freakin-tastic.

  “What are you looking at?” I ask, scowling in his direction. Of all the witnesses to my mortal humiliation he has to be here?

  “You have pepperoni in your hair.” He points helpfully to my head.

  I fight back the urge to vomit and carefully pick out the moldy red disk. Could this night start off any crappier? Mustering any dignity is impossible at this point, so I wipe my hands on my pants, grab the money bag, and stalk past him. He tenses as I brush by. I’m half-tempted to blow off the banking entirely, seeing as how it’s more for Liora’s benefit than mine. I don’t care a whit about money; I don’t care if it’s for some homeless, snot-nosed brats. And since Liora has no problem leaving me in a dumpster like a piece of trash…

  But I know if I don’t get the checks, Tatiana will be mad. And I make it a point never to get Tatiana mad—at least not on purpose. But Liora will pay dearly for her utter lack of respect of me, that’s for damn sure.

  ******

  I throw open the door, nearly taking it off its hinges. Tatiana is sitting on the couch waiting for me. I angrily toss the bank checks on the table and storm into my bedroom.

  “Do not be mad at her, dear,” Tatiana calls to me. “She was afraid of exposure and had to conceal herself to avoid a problem. She felt she had no choice. I’m sure she is very sorry to do that to you.”

  “Whatever.”

  Fifteen minutes later I emerge from the shower. I run my hands through my wet hair, and the heat emanating from my palms rapidly dries the long locks. I pull them back in a low ponytail and my fingers briefly touch my Mark. To Liora and other Sapies, the Mark burns hot to the touch. For me, it feels cool…like ice.

  This Mark on the back of our neck is the reason Liora won’t ever wear her hair up; she doesn’t want anyone to see i
t. Personally I don’t see what the big deal is. It just looks like an ordinary tattoo—a simple red star. Something anyone could get at any tattoo parlor. It’s not like it spells out, “I am half-demon,” or anything. I swear, she’s such a demon bigot.

  After changing into an all-black leather outfit—perfectly suited for my all-black mood—I charge into Tatiana’s room. She’s stirring her cauldron, the cool steam curling ghostly ribbons around her serene visage.

  “Find me some demons to slay. Tormenting won’t cut it tonight.”

  Since I’m forbidden to kill Sapies, and fighting with other demons in Thiberoux is outlawed by Demonic Decree, I have to find my fun elsewhere: The world of Man.

  Naturally, I never fight with any from my own tribe, but there are others…many others, who encroach on the surrounding towns and use the Sapies as playthings. It’s these creatures that provide me with an outlet for my natural desires. And right now—with the Amazèa out of reach again—I have a very big itch to scratch. And long, perfectly-manicured black nails to scratch it with.

  “I feel your fire and know you must hunt. If you want to stay close by, in Richmond there are two Paraste demons working out of the Galaxy Nightclub. Or, you could go back to New York, where there are several—”

  “I’ll take the Parastes.” I’d just been to New York last night to collect the tributes, and besides, I detest these particular demons. They aren’t good for anything useful. Unless you consider easing my itch useful. Which I do. Once they attach themselves to a human body, they assume total control and force their victims to do harmful things to themselves and others. The host never survives for very long.