by A C Wilds
“What do you plan to do with that little twig? Clean my teeth?” His shift begins, teeth protruding from his upper lip, hands growing into claws bigger than my fingers. His muscles ripple underneath his cut. Two slits at the shoulder drip blood down his arms, one at the nape of his neck, and, if the bloodstains on his jeans are anything to go by, two at the top of each leg. When all areas of his body are coated in his own blood, it dries instantly, a hard shell left in its place. His alternate form isn’t one I was expecting. He’s an essentia shifter. His life essence literally protects his body.
I exhale. His shift lasted no more than ten seconds, but it felt like I held my breath for an eternity. If he scared me before, he fucking terrifies me now. But I’m a Tenebris witch, and we do not show weakness.
“Why don’t you cross the road to find out what’s on the other side? Unless you’re too chicken?”
He laughs. It’s a monstrous sound that makes my skin crawl while promising pain and a slow death.
“Funny, witch. There will be no fighting tonight. Just a warning. Come near my club or my men again, and I’ll be sending you back to the citadel one piece at a time.”
He doesn’t wait around for me to formulate a witty remark or a colorful quip. Instead, he gives me his broad back and strides into the club, slamming the door behind him. I try to slow my racing pulse, but the amount of adrenaline pumping through my system isn’t helping. I’ve fucked up, underestimated him, and now the game must be played out in the open.
So much for the element of surprise.
5
Torque
At first, I hadn’t noticed her, but then the wind had pulled in from the east. Her scent had floated through the windows, and I’d recognize it anywhere. It hadn’t taken long to locate her long legs, which had been dangling over the chimney across the street. My perfect night vision focused on her without having to turn on a light or use any equipment.
She’d patiently watched and waited. It had to be boring work to stalk prey who can out-hunt the hunter, but then Buer and Cresil had to run their mouths. They’d spoken aloud information meant only for the ears of the Blood Demons. I should kill them both.
“Pres, we’re sorry. She’s like a shadow. There was no noise, not even her heartbeat. We thought we were alone,” Buer pleads, skin so taunt it seems stretched over protruding bones.
“Your intentions no longer matter. What matters now is a Tenebris witch has information she could use to poke her nose in business that is not her concern. The one thing we have that could potentially help us win if we go to war…and you two assholes fuck it up.”
I slam my fist on the table, causing them to jump. Rage courses through me. I haven’t changed back into my human form. No, I stand before them as their king, the ruler of the Blood Demons, and my fury is unmatched.
Quivering in fear, they drop to their knees, heads bowed, eyes on the floor. I can’t leave this room without punishing them, but rather than lose two soldiers, I’ll take one.
“Choose,” I spit out, causing both to jerk their heads up to regard me curiously. “One lives while the other dies. Choose which of you gets to return home.”
Buer pulls a knife from his cut, then stabs Cresil in the neck. Blood spurts out in crimson gushes, coating Buer’s face and chest. He revels in the blood lust, pinning the man to the floor and hovering over him with glowing eyes even after Cresil’s soul has been sent back to the Demon Realm.
“Enough,” Mammon commands, pulling Buer to his feet. He’s still clutching the knife, but when he sees Mammon’s face, Buer drops to the ground. His body folds in on itself, the demon’s submission clear.
Mammon pushes Buer to the door, opens it, and throws him out. After Mammon slams it shut behind him, the very pissed-off vice president faces off with me.
“Why didn’t you kill her? She was right fucking there. That’s twice in one night you could have dropped her and kept right on going. Why?”
“I had my reasons. There are certain things I cannot obtain, but she can. I have a plan.”
Mammon throws his hands up in annoyance. “You know what they say about the best-laid plans, right?”
Sighing, I try to smooth this over the best way I know how. “You’ll have to trust me.”
He stomps off in annoyance. When he slams the door behind himself, I sigh.
I hope I’m not wrong about this.
Anima
Pulling up to the citadel, I contemplate what a cluster fuck this is going to be. Killing the princep of New City is bound to be my hardest challenge yet. Now that I know his alternate form is an armor that is practically impenetrable, I’m going to have to get creative with my tactics.
There are some books in the library that might help. Witches are nothing if not resourceful. The citadel’s library contains an extensive collection of texts dating back to the first witches. As soon as there was written word, witches started keeping records. Every spell, every monster, and every battle was accounted for.
But right now, I need a hot shower and my bed. Training, research, and anything else can wait until tomorrow. I haven’t slept much over the last three days, and my magic needs the chance to refresh. Magic isn’t a constant stream of energy like some believe. It’s a well pooled in the center of one’s out, waiting to be used, but when the pool is depleted, it needs to replenish. Other than a spell, the fastest way to do that is to sleep.
My legs feel like they’ve been dipped into plaster as I make my way to the rear of the citadel. The chambers for each active assassin are on the second floor in the northeast tower. I share the wing with five other witches who are as deadly as I am.
“You look like shit,” Saundra remarks from the bottom of the stairs. Her arm drapes over the railing as she assesses me. She has been at the citadel as long as I have. We grew up together, trained together, and tolerated each other. Rahna’s had to pull us apart more than once.
Saundra’s a tall witch with red hair that glows like flames. Her delicate features make men stand up and take notice. Her height has always been her advantage over me, but it’s made me become a master at how to kick someone taller in the face.
“Thanks, Saundra,” I drawl. “That’s exactly what a girl wants to hear after a day like I’ve had.” I attempt to brush past her, but her hand snakes out like lightning, gripping my forearm. I narrow my eyes at where her fingernails dig into my skin, unamused at her touch, then meet her eyes. My smoke forms around my neck, traveling along my arms. Hurriedly pushing me away, she stands straight. She knows what will happen if she touches it.
“It should have been mine. I’m the better witch in all areas, but Rahna has always had a soft spot for you. It’s the only reason you’re still here.” There isn’t enough anger in her tone for her to mean it. She prefers the easy jobs, but she likes to make my life a living hell.
She’s goading me into a fight that we’ve already had a dozen times. Saundra thinks the world owes her everything because of her title. A witch from an affluent coven, she was thrown away because she was the last of her mother’s children. She has five much older sisters, yet none wanted to care for the baby who killed their mother.
“I don’t have time for this, Saundra. It’s getting old. Honestly, jealousy does not look good on you.”
She lets me continue up the steps without another word. Fighting with her only ever leads to the same place—grappling until one of us bleeds. We’ve never taken it too far, but I reckon it will end up to the death one day.
“Make time tomorrow. There will be an assassin meeting in the war room. Apparently, Rahna thinks you need backup.”
Turning to glance over my shoulder, I ask, “Why would I need backup?” The priestess specifically said she needed me to take this case. What changed?
“Because you’re not good enough to do this on your own. You need the rest of us to do the job right. If she had given it to me in the first place, none of this would be happening.”
I close my eyes for a beat,
trying to convince myself that throwing my knife into one of her eyes would be a bad idea. Inhaling deeply, I then exhale before I open them, hoping she’ll have left in the three seconds they were closed.
“Is there anything else, Your Highness, or may I take my leave?” My tone drips with sarcasm, but I’m too tired to care if I’m stooping to her level.
She pivots on her heel, then stomps down the hall like a five-year-old child instead of the trained killer she is.
Tomorrow is already looking amazing.
6
Anima
The dawn brings a new set of promises and sorrows. I have to go down to the library to obtain some information before the meeting this afternoon. Glancing at the paper clutched in my hand, I read the letter from Rahna again.
Meet me at three pm in the war room. Be prepared to share your findings.
I don’t expect her to explain why she decided to bring in the other witches until she’s ready to do so. Rahna has the oddest ways of testing us to make sure we are the perfect soldiers for her army of dark witches.
The library is located on the far side of the citadel, where the functional rooms are. The kitchen, dining hall, and training area are in the same wing. An additional training yard is located in the rear of the building.
I enter the space on quiet feet. Esmerelda, the librarian, is seated at her desk, head bowed as she reads a scroll. She’s so engrossed she doesn’t notice me until I’m leaning on her desk, throwing my knife in the air.
“Goddess, Anima. You scared the hell out of me,” she shouts. She jumps, causing her chair to roll toward the wall.
“That’s the point, Es. You haven’t been working on your awareness skills. You may not be an assassin, but you are still a member of the Tenebris coven, which means Demons will want to kill you anyway.”
A scowl mars her face as she dismisses my warning. One day, she’s going to regret not listening. “What can I help you with, oh sneaky one?”
Grinning at the snark, I hold out the list I prepared before coming down. “I know it’s quite extensive, but I need everything for this afternoon’s meeting. Takes place at three. Is it a problem?”
She blows out a puff of air. “No, I’ll make it happen. Can I ask why you need to know about demonic blood armor?” Her eyes glitter with excitement over the research she’s going to have to do. Esmerelda is a bookworm first and a witch second.
“It would be better if you didn’t.” The less people who know about what Torque can do, the better. He’s my puzzle to solve.
“I’ll have these for you by noon.” Getting up from the chair, she wanders off into the stacks, humming as she goes. Part of me wishes I could be that satisfied with my life. The citadel has taught me to fight, to kill, and to be of service, but never how to be happy.
“Anima,” a male voice calls from the hallway. Shoving my hands in my cargo pants, I turn and face off with one of the few men allowed in the citadel. Vex has been my trainer since I was five. He honed me into what I am today—the Tenebris Shadow. A cruel man when he wanted to be, he was still the closet thing I’ve ever had to a father.
“How may I help you on this fine morning?” I ask with a smile. Vex does not do smiles, so his response is an annoyed stare.
“Training, Anima. You’re supposed to be in the yard with the rest of the guard. I need someone to knock their brains around. Go kill someone.” He whirls, then strides down the hall like it’s on fire and he couldn’t care less about it.
Chuckling, I make my way outside. The day has brought happy sunshine and fluffy clouds. It’s entirely too cheery to kill someone. I’ll have to settle for maiming.
“Forty laps! And don’t make me say it again,” Marilla shouts. The cadets form a line before marching off in a line around the outside arena. The sand causes dust to cloud behind their feet. Leaning over the fence, I bend toward Marilla.
“Not a good morning?” She rolls her eyes, glancing at her clipboard.
“You’re late, and these witches don’t listen to me. I hate training them, and they know it. Nothing like a little torture for the tortured.”
“They aren’t all bad. Cassandra has a real knack for blades. Did you see her spar with Quinta the other day? She nearly took her eye out.”
“The proud leader has returned. If you love it so much, get your ass out of bed earlier and train them yourself. I’d love to sleep in.”
She throws the clipboard at me, then plops in a chair set up against the fence. Flipping my body the rest of the way over, I land on my feet. After taking my place next to her, I go through the stats for the day. Cadets are judged on their aptitude in several different areas—physical combat, weapons, stealth, and strategy.
“Anise is kicking ass in all categories. Has someone flagged her for the silver star?” I ask, not believing what’s in front of me. A few months ago, she couldn’t hold a blade properly, but now she has exceedingly high marks.
“Something is going on with her. She doesn’t seem right half the time. I know Saundra has been doing private tutoring, but it’s not adding up.” She squints in the girls’ direction, scouting for someone to punish.
Lately, Saundra seems to be in the middle of a lot of things. Last night’s episode wasn’t unheard of, but she’d been overly angry about something I had no control over. Saundra is a competitive witch, but she normally follows orders and doesn’t wander far from the path. Her reactions have me suspicious. She’s up to something.
I just don’t know what.
The war room is a long hall with a table in the middle that seats twenty assassins and staff. Computers and monitors are located on benches built into the far wall, humming in the silence. An altar to the goddess is on the opposite wall, with offerings on its surface. It’s a war between magic and technology.
I have about five minutes before the rest of the coven convenes. My books are spread out on the table, but I’m no closer to learning anything than I’d been yesterday. It seems Torque Sanguis is a big deal in the Demon Realm. King of the Blood Demons, he sat on his throne for centuries while at war with Nox, the King of the Dark. Nox chose to stay in the Demon Realm, but Torque wanted out. The books don’t give a reason, but the fact they were fighting before Torque came to the Mortal Realm is interesting.
My search on essentia demons and blood armor came back with even less information. It seems that only those in the High Court of the Blood Demons can perform the magic, but there aren’t many left. Torque and his brother, General Scur, are the last of the High Court. Knowing this gives me even more of a pause. We could possibly take out one, but if the other joined the fight, it could be too much.
Moments later, Rahna enters the room with the rest of the coven. Witches file in behind her, taking their seats. Rahna takes her place at the head of the table. Her chair is more of a throne and a position of power. I stay on my feet, waiting for them to settle before I begin. With a smirk, Saundra takes her place to Rahna’s left. On Rahna’s right, my chair is left empty.
In deference, I dip my head to Rahna as her hands come up to order silence. “Our regular meeting of the guard will be held off until tomorrow. Today, Anima has some intel to share with us on the takedown of the princep of the Blood Demons.” Her voice commands the room, echoing off the expansive chambers.
Murmurs of surprise ripple through the crowd, but one glance from her stops it. She gestures for me to take the floor.
“As our priestess said, Princep Torque Sanguis of the Blood Demons and the president of Hallowed Grounds has committed crimes against humanity. His warrant has been issued, and I’ve been tasked with his assassination.”
“What have you learned thus far?” Rahna asks. I turn on the projector screen, then place the first book under it. A painting of a demon who sits on a throne made from a pile of bones, blood dripping from its hands that grip the skulls forming the arms, flashes on it.
“Torque Sanguis has been at war for centuries…”
7
Anima<
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The meeting lasted three hours. Discussions of how and when to kill Torque bounced around like a Ping-Pong ball. No one could come up with a solid plan. In the end, it was decided I should do more surveillance and research.
So, once again, I’m perched on the same building as yesterday, surveying Hallowed Grounds. This time, I’ve chosen to use my smoke to form a cocoon around me. No one, not even a Blood Demon, can see past it. It makes me invisible.
The roar of a single motorcycle engine disturbs the night. A blood-red Harley Softail purrs along the street, stopping at the gates of Hallowed Ground. The rider clicks a key fob, and the giant gates slide open to let him in.
I inch closer to get a better view, mindful of my smoke, and scan the street below. No club members. The lights in the building are off, and I don’t hear or feel anyone. This could be my chance.
He pulls beyond the gate, pushes the kickstand down, then dismounts from his hog. His helmet comes off next, and I almost gasp at how gorgeous he is. Killing him will be a damn shame.
The lights flicker on as he walks through the building. Finally, he reaches what must be his office and takes a seat behind a desk opposite the window. He boots up a computer, then sits back to read something.
Slipping around the side of the building, I make my way across the street on soundless feet. The night carries me to the back door. When I find a window cracked, I start to think this might be a little too easy.
Once I’m inside, I give myself a moment to look around. I’ve entered a bar area. Tables and chairs are scattered throughout, and a long, wooden bar with the club’s symbol carved into runs the length of the room. Classy.
The light from the office spills down the stairwell, and I make my way over to it. The smell of brimstone and whiskey hangs heavy in the air. No one is here, and my smoke is still around me. In the dark, I’m invisible, but my smoke is transparent in the light.
