They Bite
A Nyxia White Story
Orlando A. Sanchez
Contents
About the Story
Quotation
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
Author Notes
Special Mentions
About the Author
Bitten Peaches Publishing
Acknowledegements
Contact Me
ART SHREDDERS
Thanks for Reading!
About the Story
Sleep tight…don’t let the bedbugs bite…when the monsters come hunting, call Nyxia White.
Nyxia White isn’t entirely human. She sees the things no one else can. She never counted on being called to The Seven, it was an offer she could’ve refused…if she wanted to die.
Now she’s one of the beings tasked with protecting humanity.
When creatures start escaping the darkness and claiming human lives, Nyxia is the one who will stand against them. Together with her demon familiar, Acheron, and dark magic, she will answer the call and fight for those who can’t fight for themselves.
When monsters come hunting…she will be their nightmare.
Everyone is a dark moon and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.
-Mark Twain
ONE
The smell hit me first.
“Blood,” I said, sniffing the air. “That way.”
I loved New York City at night, especially after a hard rain. The park smelled of cut grass and fresh earth. For a few brief hours, the world felt clean, washed of the impurities I knew existed beneath its facade.
I pointed down the worn path. We moved through the trees, careful to remain silent as we closed in on the creature. I came upon more traces of blood, smelling rather than seeing them.
“Only blood,” my partner said, crouching down to touch the small puddle, bringing his finger to his tongue and tasting it. “A recent kill from the taste of it.”
“Do you have to do that?”
“Do what?” he asked, innocently. “It’s not like I’m lapping it up. I have some decorum, you know. Besides, it’s type O…boring. I prefer A.”
“If the blood is here,” I said, looking around, “it must have fed close by.”
“There,” my partner said, pointing to the right. “A body or what’s left of it, over there.”
I adjusted my night vision, bringing the body into clear view.
A half-eaten corpse lay in the trees—a young man in his mid-twenties, missing his lower half. His torso was empty of all major organs. Judging from his expression and the scent around his body, he died hard and scared.
"Definitely a Minoras,” I said. “Look at those claw marks; definitely a Dragondog.”
“Was this the target? Doesn’t smell nearly powerful enough.”
“He wasn’t the target…just unlucky,” I said, examining the body. “Wrong place, wrong time.”
“Not half the man he used to be,” my partner said, looking at the victim. “He did not die well.”
“Demon humor is seriously twisted,” I said, glancing over at my partner. “Not half the man he used to be?”
“I can’t help what I am any more than you can, Nyx,” he said. “Otherkin humor is fairly distasteful, even for a demon.”
“True. It’s not you, Acheron,” I said, taking a deep breath and letting it out slow. “This thing has me agitated. How did it even get out? Black Cleavers?”
“Cleavers would never be this sloppy,” Acheron said, looking at the body. “This looks freelance. Revenge-cast maybe?”
“That is monumentally stupid. Especially with a Minoras.”
“I didn’t say the summoner was smart, just not a Cleaver.”
Black Cleavers were self-appointed sorcerers that hunted demons. Most of them were dangerous. All of them were egocentric idiots. Only a small handful were actual threats. The real issue was that they numbered in the thousands, scattered all over the world.
“More likely a summons,” Acheron said. “Someone was using magic above their pay grade”—he looked down at the body—“maybe this unlucky bastard.”
“No,” I said. “There’d be a circle somewhere. He wasn’t powerful enough for a free-cast. He just ended up being a snack.”
“More like half a snack,” Acheron observed. “It’s moving fast if it didn’t even bother to finish its meal. What’s the rush?”
“It’s still bound,” I said, looking at the trail of blood. “This has to be a reverse-cast.”
“Which means it’s headed to the locus of the cast.”
“The summons,” I said. “It’s heading to the summoner.”
“Who is in for a very rude and lethal surprise.”
“This is totally going to suck.”
“And not in a good way either,” Acheron added, looking into the night. “It’s angry. Demons don’t appreciate being summoned, bound, or imprisoned. I should know.”
I nodded.
“It’s going to try and break the bond,” I said, moving silently through the trees. “I’d prefer not having to fight this thing.”
“I’m not in any rush to face it, either,” Acheron said, keeping his voice low. “The creature will be stronger after this.”
“It’s still feeding,” I said, looking down at the small traces of blood leading away from the body. “That way.”
“Must have taken the organs to go. At least it’s being neat.”
I stared at my partner.
“Neat, really?” I asked. “That’s what you get from this?”
“What? There was hardly any blood,” he said, pointing behind him. “It really drained the victim dry. I give it a solid E for effort.”
I shook my head and sighed.
“This is what I get, having a demon for a partner.”
“Hey, you summoned me, not the other way around,” he said as we moved deeper into the trees. “Not my fault you used the wrong binding spell. What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t,” I said, recalling the night I called Acheron into my circle…and broke it, nearly killing myself in the process. “I wasn’t expecting…you.”
I had only survived because Acheron was a Demon Lord who was more interested in his freedom than my life. That, and I was an Otherkin, not exactly an easy or soft target.
“Yet here I am,” Acheron answered with a small bow. “A glorious mistake.”
“A mistake I regret every day, trust me.”
“I’m stuck with you too, you know.”
“I’m going to guess—escaping hell means you got the better end of this deal.”
“True,” Acheron said with a quiet chuckle, then grew silent. “We have to kill it. You know we can’t let it leave the park…at least not alive.”
“I know,” I said. “The Seven will lose their shit if it gets out.”
“Especially Victoria…and she tolerates you.”
“We have to maintain the bond, at least until we deal with it,” I said. “If it…”
“If it breaks the bond,” Acheron said, “it will be buffet time. Right now, it just wants the summoner. All bets are off if the bond is broken.”
“Don’t remind me,” I said, moving faster. “Just be happy it’s only
a Minoras.”
Acheron shuddered.
“You say that like it’s a good thing,” Acheron snapped. “Minoras are angry balls of fury on a good day. Once summoned, they become blenders of death.”
“Up ahead,” I said, lowering my voice and pointing. “There.”
Several meters ahead of us, in a large summoning circle, stood a petrified young man who was quickly realizing he was in deep shit. The Minoras—a lower demon—looked like a hybrid between a large dog and a small dragon. Its body was covered in red-orange scales, each of its six legs ended in claws, and its canine-shaped head contained enormous fangs.
It paced slowly outside the summoner’s circle. This was a reverse-cast. Stupid and dangerous for all but the most experienced sorcerers. In a reverse-cast, the summoner would call forth the creature and then bind them to service, while standing in the protection of the circle.
The safest way would’ve been to go traditional: stand in a protective circle, summon the creature into a binding circle, and compel it while it was still inside. The riskiest method was reserved for only the most powerful sorcerers: a free-cast. No circles on either end. Free-casts usually ended in a bloody mess…for the sorcerer.
The Minoras continued pacing around the circle, focused on the sorcerer inside, oblivious to everything and everyone outside of it. Every few seconds, it would growl and lash out at the edge. A small burst of orange energy would accompany every lash, leaving an afterglow delineating the protective boundary of the circle.
“It’s focused on him…for now,” Acheron said in a hushed tone. “You want to try and talk it down?”
“Do I look like a demon-whisperer?”
“Do you want me to answer that?”
“Shut it,” I said, approaching the circle. “If this goes wrong…”
“I’ll make sure to identify your body,” Acheron deadpanned. “I’ll bring flowers to your grave every year, too…when I remember.”
I proceeded to give Acheron a one-finger response as I approached the circle…and the demon.
TWO
“Looks like you have a problem,” I said to the sorcerer in the center of the circle, while staying back far enough to avoid the Minoras’ orbit. “What were you planning to do with it?”
“I’m…I’m going to control it,” the sorcerer stammered. “I can do this. They’re going to pay.”
“The real question is: what are you going to pay?”
“I can cover the cost of this…I have blood.”
He pulled out a small bottle filled with a dark liquid. I glanced at the bottle and then at the pacing Minoras.
“That seems a little short for this demon,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Do you have more?”
“Not on me, no.”
“You do,” I said, shaking my head slowly. “Not on you, but in you.”
“Listen, I know what I’m doing. I don’t need help, thanks.”
He had guts. I gave him that much. Suicidally stupid, but large in the cojones department.
Summoning was not for the faint of heart.
You were asking something—not someone, something—dangerous from another world to step into this one…forcefully. Try to remember being grabbed by the ear and dragged somewhere as a child. Now multiply that by one million, and you have an idea how the summoned feel…just to start.
It didn’t matter what you were summoning. If you were not strong enough, you could end up dead on principle alone. Being summoned by a lesser being was insulting. If the summoned creature was considered benevolent—and I used that term lightly—it meant they would at least listen to your proposal before blasting you to bits, or ripping your arms and legs off, all while laughing at your mortal ass.
Malevolent creatures would straight up try and kill the summoner…much like the Minoras and the clueless sorcerer I was looking at. They wouldn’t entertain a conversation, and the sooner they could dispatch you, the sooner they could get back to whatever they had been destroying when they had been summoned. To them, summoners were just a tasty distraction.
This reverse-cast was partially smart. Using the park at night meant it was mostly deserted—little chance for collateral damage, except for the unlucky victim. It also had several points of exit. Smart, if you needed to escape an angry demon. Not so smart if you used the wrong containment method, like a reverse-cast. If the Minoras killed the caster in the circle…it was free.
A free Minoras was a nightmare to consider. It would go on a rampage, killing everything in sight—and they had excellent sight.
The last, and most dangerous component of a summons, was the cost. Every summons had a cost, a price that had to be paid. Blood was usually the currency of choice; it needed to be enough to motivate the creature in the circle to obey. If the offer was unsatisfactory, and the summoner was incredibly lucky, they would just leave. I had never met anyone that lucky.
The sorcerer in the circle tonight was not one of the lucky ones.
“Your funeral,” I said, taking a few more steps back, and waving him on. “Don’t let me stop you. Please, proceed.”
I noticed the sigils. Definitely not Black Cleaver work. Whoever this summoner was, he was in way over his head. He began an incantation. By the third verse, I knew he was going to die.
“You better stop him,” Acheron said from behind me. “I don’t know where he learned those verses, but any second now, he’s going to be dinner for that demon.”
“Are you going to deal with the demon?” I asked, letting the frustration creep into my voice. “Because I’m not going to be able to talk it down from munching on Clueless here, and stop him from finishing the verses at the same time.”
“Hmm,” Acheron said, pulling a book out of his coat and leaning against a tree, “I’m not on the clock. Besides, my contract only deals with keeping you safe, not idiot sorcerers who are too stupid to live. This is a classic example of Darwinism in effect.”
“Acheron…”
“Fine, I’ll distract the Sorcerer Supreme, you deal with the angry demon dog,” Acheron said, closing the book. “You owe me dinner.”
“We’ll do Fong’s later.”
“Excellent,” Acheron said, approaching the circle as I sidled close to the Minoras. “They have a new platter… the Carolina Reaper Special. It was so hot, I heard it nearly killed someone.”
“Hello?” I said, waving a hand. “Sorcerer…focus?”
“Right,” he said, licking his lips. “Dinner later. Save suicidal sorcerer now.”
“Good plan,” I said, stepping closer to the demon. “Go distract him and make sure he doesn’t finish that incantation.”
“I still think we should let natural selection sort him out.”
“Go,” I said, pointing at the sorcerer, “now.”
Even though the Minoras were lower demons, they were intelligent and capable of language if you knew how to speak to them. Being an Otherkin meant demontongue came naturally to me. It was how I communicated with Acheron in public, even though he enjoyed showing off his skills as a polyglot.
Demontongue was similar to some of the original languages on earth—full of clicks, grunts and sounds not natural to what was considered ‘civilized’ culture.
I stepped as close as I dared to the Minoras, without getting too close.
“This one is not worth your attention, great demon,” I said. Demons had egos the size of mountains; it never hurt to stroke them. “He’s not even a meal. Look how thin and frail he is.”
“Even one as frail as he, bleeds,” the Minoras answered without looking at me. “I will feast on his blood and chew his bones.”
Its voice was a combination of a low dog growl and an angry dragon roar. Menacing enough to force your body into a pucker factor of ten, and make you want to run away screaming. A fear reflex raced through my body, and my legs wanted to follow.
I stood my ground…barely.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” I said when I found my voice again.
“He made a mistake summoning you.”
“One he will pay for with his life.”
“Can’t let you kill him, either,” I said, a little more boldly. “I’ll have OSA deal with him.”
The Minoras turned its head, as if noticing me for the first time…a good and a bad thing. It sniffed the air and focused on where I stood. Its orange eyes fixed me with its gaze.
“You speak my tongue, but you are not of my kind,” it said. “Do you wish to end your life this night?”
“That’s going to be a hard no,” I said. “Why were you summoned?”
“This foolish human wishes to exact vengeance,” the Minoras spat after a low growl. “He dares to summon me? I will feed on his entrails.”
“Let’s hold off on the feeding on his entrails,” I said, holding up a hand and looking for an opening. “Perhaps, we can reach an agreement.”
Minoras were covered in scales, except for a small spot beneath their jaws at the bottom of their necks—a vulnerability I had nearly lost an arm to discover, years ago. If I was going to stop this demon, I only had to get past a mouth full of razor-sharp fangs, half a dozen lethal claws and supernatural reflexes to get at that spot.
A walk in the park. If that park was located in the middle of a minefield.
“You have no concern here,” the Minoras answered, swiveling its head back to the petrified sorcerer Acheron was trying to coax out of the circle. “This is not your summons. Do not make it your night to die.”
The timing had to be perfect. If Acheron managed to get the sorcerer out of the circle before I subdued the Minoras…well, dead sorcerer and then a hungry, free demon. Which would mean we were next on the menu.
“Any luck?” Acheron mentally asked from the other side of the circle. “This sorcerer is being surprisingly uncooperative.”
They Bite: A Nyxia White Story (They Bite-A Nyxia White Story-Book 1) Page 1
