The Demon-Born Trilogy: (Complete Paranormal Fantasy Series)

by L. C. Hibbett

  I risked another glance as we walked out of the hall. Peter was tapping his cane on the ground and staring straight at me.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Seriously, you're sure this is a classroom?” I turned in a full circle, taking in the cluttered floor to ceiling bookshelves and the notes littering every available surface. The sweet, musty smell of old books hung in the air. “This can’t be a classroom, guys.”

  Lucas and Jasmine cleared the loose papers from the large round table, leaving them in a precarious pile on top of an overflowing writing desk. Elijah was examining the maps on the wall, tracing lines between the pins with his fingers. His expression was unusually somber.

  Frank laughed, hugging Lydia against his chest and talking over her head. “The academic tutors take their groups in their private studies. Most of them are pretty normal, the Batcave is one of a kind.”

  He kissed Lydia on the forehead and saluted us before jogging through the door. Lydia sniggered as Frank collided with Sam in the doorway. He brushed himself off and patted Sam on the shoulder. “Sorry, man, didn’t see you there.”

  “No worries. How come you’re getting off double History?”

  Frank started walking down the corridor, answering Sam over his shoulder. “Combat session with Cain. Emmanuel’s orders. He wants everyone on high alert. More flashes showing up all over Europe. At least ten unexplained sources of magic in the past twenty-four hours, and two more Spirit reports. I’ll fill you in later.”

  Sam’s eyes were dark when he walked into the room. I stared at the wall, ignoring the flutter in the pit of my stomach. Lydia waved at him. “Wish I had extra combat training, I’d do anything to get out of this class.”

  Lucas dumped a bundle of papers in her lap. “Then maybe you should spend your time with Frank improving your skill with a Spirit Blade, instead of mauling each other.”

  Lydia stuck her tongue out at him and got up to deposit the paper onto the writing desk.

  “Frank is some sort of a Spirit Blade expert?” I asked.

  Lydia grinned at me. “Something like that. He is one of the strongest with the blade in the cell. Frank, Sam, Cain, Megan, Elijah, and Prya are on the elite squad. They’re the first line fighters for Spirit attacks.”

  Lucas plopped himself down at the round table that and surveyed the clear surface with satisfaction before speaking. “Frank is in a class of his own, he’s like a phantom with the Spirit Blade. Dude looks like Hercules and moves like a nymph, totally unfair.”

  Jasmine and Lydia responded in unison. “Half-born.”

  Lydia pointed her finger at Jasmine. “Jinx.”

  They laughed. I could feel Sam’s gaze on me. Measuring my confusion and finding me lacking. I picked a book from the shelf, pretending to be absorbed in it. Eighth century ruling systems. Bad choice.

  Elijah leaned down over a row of maps spread across the floor in the opposite corner of the room and smoothed one out with his hands. Sam crouched down beside him, whispering intently. I clutched the book against my chest and sank down into a worn leather chair, glancing at Sam to check he was preoccupied before asking Lucas why a Half-Born would be better at fighting with the Spirit Blade. Lucas leaned his elbows on the table. “It’s not just blades, it could be anything. Frank’s little sister is a musical prodigy. She wrote her first concerto at seven.”

  Jasmine pulled her chair closer to us, elaborating on the information Lucas had provided. “Angels are predisposed to be skilled at working with things that tie us to the natural world. We can manipulate the elements, plant life, gravity, even time and space.”

  The words tugged at the corner of my mind. “That slip thing. You were pulling at the air when Sam said to get us away from the cottage. I couldn’t see it. Is that what you were doing? Trying to change time or space?”

  Jasmine nodded. “Space. I was finding the right thread to open a gate between the cottage and here. Angels can move between different locations by physically manipulating the fabric of space. That’s where the whole Human theory that Angels could fly came from. We call it slipping.”

  “Slipping.” I tested the word out. “That’s insane. Can you open a gate to anywhere you want? Do Angels never use airplanes? Can Halflings do it? Could I?”

  Lydia perched herself on the table beside us, swinging her legs. “Probably. Not everyone is equally good at it. Jasmine and Elijah are incredible, they can open a slip to almost anywhere. Jabol said Dawn and Cat have already mastered the skill. All Angels have the potential to slip but lots of Angels don’t. Most of them are immersed in Human society, it’s just not practical to slip if it could risk causing trouble with the Guardians.”

  I shook my head. “Are you serious, Lydia? I can’t imagine being able to do something that cool and not doing it. Do Angels have the best skills?”

  Jasmine wrinkled her nose. “Not necessarily. Humans are often more skilled when it comes to the abstract— science, academics, engineering.”

  “Relationships,” Lucas said.

  Jasmine squeezed his shoulder and continued talking. “When somebody is part Angel and part Human it’s like playing the genetic lottery. Sometimes the person will be a little more Human in nature, other times they favor their Angelic side. Nearly always they will have a strength or skill that far surpasses the equivalent match in either a Human or an Angel.”

  I leaned toward Jasmine, trying to process this information. “Is that what drew the Spirit Demons? The Half-Born’s extra spark?”

  Jasmine’s gaze jerked away from mine before she could answer. Lydia sprang off the table as if she had been shot, sitting down firmly on a chair.

  “What?” I said, looking from one face to another. Lucas put a finger to his lips. Sam and Elijah kneeled stock still beside the pile of maps. I listened. A tapping noise, coming gradually closer. Tap, tap, tap on the marble floors. Peter’s cane.

  Lucas hissed at Jasmine. “What’s he doing? Dude’s never on time.”

  Jasmine lifted her shoulders and turned her palms upward. “I don’t know. I’m not his minder.”

  The tapping stopped, and the door swung open to reveal a smirking Megan. Lucas threw his head back. “Painful. That girl is painful.”

  Megan seemed unperturbed, sashaying around the cramped study like a runway model. She peered over Elijah’s shoulder. “How many new flashes? Are there any patterns emerging?”

  I could see Elijah’s jaw working. He didn’t answer.

  Megan grinned. “Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you pick the most recent flash in a three-hundred-mile radius, and we can all drop everything for eighteen months to see if we can bring back another Demon-Born. Add to our collection.”

  Elijah walked away from her and sat down next to Jasmine. He rested his clenched fists on the table, veins standing out on his muscular arms.

  Lydia frowned. “Don’t start with that crap again, Megan. Those flashes could be anything. Not all uncontrolled magic belongs to a Demon-Born.”

  Megan pursed her lips. “Every single Spirit attack has correlated with the presence of—”

  Lucas slapped the table with his open palm, cutting across Megan. “Enough, Megan.” I stared at Lucas, startled. I barely recognized his voice. “You’re starting to sound as obsessed with this stuff as Peter is. At least, he has an excuse.”

  Elijah dragged his nails over the grain of the wood. “Megan, you seem happy enough with the Demon-Born population when you’re crawling all over Sam.”

  I flipped open my book, concentrating on the intricacies of the feudal system. I bit my thumb as I read. My chest ached.

  “Grace.” Lucas poked his finger against my elbow.

  “Huh?”

  Lucas looked pointedly at the book in front of me. “We might want to hide that before Peter gets here.”

  The page was dotted with crimson. My thumb. I let Lucas take the book and return it to the shelf, grateful that the others were still embroiled in a verbal brawl with Megan. Out of the corner of my eye,
I could see Sam watching me. I tightened my lips, deliberately focusing my attention anywhere but on him.

  Elijah turned his head toward the open door and groaned. Lucas cocked one eyebrow at him, and Elijah nodded. Lucas patted his arm consolingly before waving a hand in the air. “Butts in chairs, people. This is not a drill. Batman is on the wing.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I apologize for the delay, children, I was otherwise engaged.” Peter stalked across the study, leaning on the derby handle of his cane. Sam slithered past Lydia and Megan, slipping into the chair beside me. I looked straight ahead, ignoring the shiver running down my spine. Lydia and Megan scurried to their seats, subdued.

  Peter rifled through the drawers of his writing desk, leaning awkwardly against the wooden table. “Aha!” He plucked a scrap of paper between his thumb and forefinger. He bent forward, one hand gripping a bookshelf, and lowered himself to the ground.

  Elijah pushed his chair back. “Uncle Peter, let me do it.” Peter waved Elijah’s hand away and pinned the piece of paper to one of the maps lining the floor. Peter’s hands were long and elegant. No wedding ring.

  He turned and held an arm out to Elijah. “I am not too proud to accept help up from the floor, however. I have delayed you quite long enough without floundering about on the floor for another half hour.”

  Peter’s self-depreciating smile transformed his face. The lines of intensity around his eyes vanished, revealing surprisingly long, thick lashes. Elijah leaned forward and helped his uncle into the remaining seat, between Megan and Lydia.

  “Thank you, Elijah.” Peter scanned the table. “We are missing Frank?”

  “Training with Cain,” Lydia said.

  Peter nodded and turned his focus on me. “Ah, but we have gained a striking young lady in his stead.” I blushed, unable to hold his stare. “Grace, we have all been most eager to make your acquaintance.”

  He pulled out a small leather-bound notebook and a gold pen from the inside pocket of his tailored jacket. Jasmine and Elijah exchanged a look. “I was the one who detected your family, almost two years ago.” Peter flashed a page of his notebook at me. It was a work of art, every inch of the open page was covered in minuscule but perfectly formed script. “Little Dawn is what I had sensed, of course, we had no idea there would be more of you. Four of children of the Demons. Majestic.”

  Lucas squeezed my knee under the desk as Peter examined me intently. I held my breath, on the verge of a fit of nervous laughter.

  Megan tapped the wooden tabletop with her phone. “Excuse me, Peter, are we covering a History session today? If we aren’t, could I be excused to see Jabol before the afternoon training session.”

  Peter regarded Megan with unblinking eyes, before turning back without answering her question. “Are you interested in History, Grace?”

  Megan crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

  “Yes, Sir, it’s one of my best subjects,” I answered.

  Peter rested his elbows on the table. “Wonderful. What can you tell us about the Great Divide?”

  “I mainly studied Human history, Sir.” My cheeks were burning.

  Peter sat back in his chair. “Surely, your keeper provided you with some basic History instruction about the real world? Such an educated woman, I can’t imagine she would leave you vulnerable. That would be a crime. Negligent.”

  I flinched at his choice of words. Keeper. “Eve was an excellent tutor. I got straight A’s in my Junior Certificate, and Cat got first class honors in her degree.”

  Peter’s smile was lopsided. “Please don’t interpret my questions as criticism, Grace. I am merely trying to establish a base level for your History tuition. So, if you could kindly elaborate on your understanding of the Great Divide, I would be most obliged.”

  Lydia squirmed in her chair and shot me a sympathetic look. I took a shallow breath. “I know that until a couple of thousand years ago Angels and Humans existed in relative harmony. Two different, but equal, races that existed under a shared ruling system. Until the Spirit Demons appeared, attracted by the energy of the people of shared heritage. The Spirit Demons caused a global plague, feeding on both Humans and Angels, but not on those of mixed heritage. The Great Divide was created to end the war, and all knowledge and awareness of magic users was henceforth hidden from Human consciousness. The carnal union of Angels and Humans was forbidden to prevent a Half-Born race from forming once more. All children who weren’t of pure blood were declared a threat to the veil, and their lives were forfeit. The Elder Council continues to rule over the Angels, assisted by the High Council and the Guardians, an elite police force tasked with protecting and maintaining the Great Divide.”

  Peter nodded, turning his gold pen over with deft fingers. “And how was the Spirit War ended?”

  “With a blood debt. All those of mixed blood were sacrificed. Their energy was used to give the serving Elders the power of immortality. So that they could create an eternal barrier, hiding magical powers from the Human world,” I faltered, looking down at my jagged fingernails.

  Peter rested his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together. “How do you feel about that, Grace? As somebody who isn’t of pure blood themselves.”

  Jasmine gave me an apologetic grimace. I bit my lip. “I think it was bad.”

  Peter raised his eyebrows. “Could you elaborate?”

  I wiped my palms on my jeans. “I don’t believe that anyone has the right to decide to destroy a whole race of people. It wasn’t their fault the Spirits were drawn to them. You can’t sacrifice people for just being what they are. Babies. Children. Grandparents. Anyone. It’s not right.”

  Peter folded his arms. “What would you have done, Grace? Would you have chosen to sacrifice all pure blood Humans and Angels to the Spirits? If war falls on us again would you be willing to let millions die to save your own skin?”

  I shrank back into my chair. Peter’s expression was curious, apparently unaware of my discomfort. Sam cracked his knuckles. His voice was controlled, but the skin over his hands was stretched tight. “That’s a bullshit question. There’s no proof that it was the Half-Born that drew the Spirits.”

  Megan narrowed her eyes. “Oh, please! Every record indicates that the intensity of the Spirit attacks correlated directly with the increase in the mixed race population. Attacks were more concentrated in areas where the Half-Born were prevalent.”

  Elijah dug his fingers into the arms of his chair. “Doesn’t make it right, Megan. The Council should have focused their attention on understanding the Spirit Demons. Finding their weakness. Instead of just blaming people and butchering families.”

  Megan’s face was pale. “I never said they were right to murder people, Elijah.”

  “Who decided that the Humans shouldn’t know anything?” Everyone at the table turned their eyes on me. I bit down harder on my lip before I continued, “I mean, the Elders were elected from the Council in equal proportion, right?”

  Jasmine nodded, “Four Human Elders, four Angel Elders, and a Half-Born representative, too. They were elected by the High Council and new Elders were elected every ten years. The Demons didn’t have any representation on the Elder Council because they didn’t become a resident population until after the Great Divide, when the veil trapped them here. Until then they were just visitors, coming and going from their various realms of origin. There would have been a second Half-Born elected to the Elder Council because the population was growing, but then the Spirits came.”

  “Well, if it was equal, then why did they decide that the Humans should be the ones kept in the dark? They all made the decision to sacrifice the Half-Born, but the Angels got to keep all their knowledge and the Humans just walk around blind. The Angels lost nothing. They still get to use their powers. They benefit from all the discoveries the Human’s bring to the world, like technology and engineering, but the Humans don’t profit from the Angel skills. They don’t even share their healing power. Why?”


  I sensed a flicker passing around the table. Peter pointed at me, his eyes bright. “That, children, is the first interesting question a student has asked me since I got to this godforsaken place.”

  He spread his fingers wide on the table. “History is a curious thing, children. Everyone looks back at the second World War and imagines that they would have been a hero. We all like to think there would have been no blood on our hands. People forget that there was only one Oscar Schindler, only one Irene Sendler. Real character is rare.”

  I squinted at Peter, trying to follow his train of thought. The bell rang and Peter reached for his cane, tucking his journal back into his jacket pocket. He disappeared out of the room without a backward glance, moving with speed despite his limp, our lesson abruptly forgotten. Lucas was the first to break the silence, letting out a groan. “Jasmine, Eli, I love you both, but your uncle is creepy.”

  Even Megan cracked a smile. Her smooth oval face was undeniably beautiful when it wasn’t dripping with contempt. I snuck a glance at Sam and found his eyes fixed on my mouth. I flushed, feeling my breathing slow. My lips tingled as his gaze slipped over my face until he reached my eyes. We both snapped our faces in the opposite direction.

  I cleared my throat and hoped my voice sounded steady. “Was that the bell to move us on to our next class? I thought this was a double session.”

  Jasmine tilted her head. “The bell doesn’t ring between lessons. It announces meals and physical training sessions, those are activities the whole house does together.”

  “And it rings if we are under attack. If it chimes three times then you need to get your cute butt to the old chapel,” Lucas said.

  I squinted at him, trying to figure out if he was serious or not. Elijah smiled at me reassuringly. “Ignore Mr. Melodramatic. I’ll pick you up after you get your training clothes on and show you the way to the training field.”

  I shot Elijah a grateful smile.

  “No!” Sam shoved his chair back. “Catherine can show her where to go.”