They Bite: A Nyxia White Story (They Bite-A Nyxia White Story-Book 1)

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “It wasn’t their fault you became Otherkin,” Acheron reminded me. “That was an error. Mostly your error if I recall.”

  “An error?” I said, feeling the heat of anger flush my face. “Oh, you mean like a slip of the tongue?”

  “I meant…”

  “Like an oversight? Something overlooked? Forgotten?”

  “What I meant to say was…nevermind,” he said, choosing the wiser path tonight. This wasn’t a battle he could win, and it wasn’t worth dying on this hill. “You’re right, they could have acted, placed you in stasis, or tried to reverse the transformation.”

  “Yes, they could have,” I snapped. “They could have prevented what happened…but they didn’t. They let it happen, encouraged it even, so they could have a pet Otherkin.”

  “Otherkin are rare,” Acheron answered. “Rare enough for them to let the transformation run its course.”

  “They didn’t ask me.”

  “She taught and trained you.”

  “She forged me into a weapon.”

  “The rest of The Seven wanted you eliminated,” Acheron said. “You do realize that the alternative was death…yours? She convinced them.”

  “I’m aware,” I said, my voice soft as marble. “That’s why when the time comes…she’ll live. I’ll repay her kindness…a life for a life.”

  “The rest of The Seven may have a difference of opinion,” he said. “Something you may want to consider in that future massacre.”

  I looked into Acheron’s eyes and let my rage seethe until he looked away.

  “They…let…it…happen. Just to see what I would become. Like I was some experiment. All of them.”

  “Except Victoria.”

  I nodded.

  “Except her,” I said. “She gets a choice. Walk away or die.”

  “It’s so nice to see you mellowing with age,” Acheron said with a grin. “At least it wasn’t worse. You only became an Otherkin.”

  “Only became?” I asked, exasperated. “What would’ve been worse?”

  “At least you didn’t become a demon,” Acheron said with a small shrug, trying to diffuse my anger. It worked. “That would have been…awkward, not to mention a serious blow to the reputations of demons everywhere.”

  “Screw you.”

  “No thanks, pass,” He said. “If I ever find an interested, hunky Otherkin, I’ll pass him your number.”

  I smiled and he nodded. That was his plan all along, bringing me back from the edge of rage. I let out a long breath and composed myself. None of it was Acheron’s fault. The anger I carried had a specific target: The Seven.

  “We need to find out how Clueless here found out about this summons,” I said, ignoring Acheron’s hunky comment. “We start there and work backwards.”

  “If you use that sigil, you’re going to get us banished,” Acheron said with a chuckle. “Or worse.”

  “What’s worse than hell?”

  “You mean besides being on this plane stuck with you?”

  “I didn’t realize you were suffering so,” I said, feigning concern. “Is it bad?”

  “You have no idea,” Acheron replied, milking the moment. “The indignities I’m forced to bear.”

  “If it’s really that bad, I could always attempt a free-cast and send you back,” I offered. “I haven’t attempted one on a Demon Lord of your stature, but how hard could it be?”

  “Let’s refrain from any casting attempts…free or otherwise,” Acheron said quickly. “The last time you cast, you nearly obliterated yourself, along with a ten-block radius of this city.”

  “I was angry.”

  He raised an eyebrow

  “Are you inferring that there are times you aren’t angry?”

  “The last time I cast, I ended up with you.”

  “Which nearly killed you. I rest my case.”

  “I’ve been practicing since then. I think I can do it—I’m at least forty-five percent sure.”

  “You think?” he asked. “I will not be experimented on, thank you very much. Keep your ‘practice’ to yourself.”

  “No one likes to be the guinea pig,” I said. “Everyone wants to conduct the experiment. Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely certain.”

  “Your loss,” I said with a shrug. “You could be home right now, back in a cell, tortured every hour on the hour.”

  He glared at me, uncomfortable that I knew what he had been going through while imprisoned in Hell. What I didn’t know was why he had been imprisoned. How bad do you have to be to get imprisoned…in Hell?

  “I strongly suggest you brief The Seven,” Acheron added after a moment of silence. “At least inform Victoria. She seems to tolerate your outbursts of rage.”

  “Victoria will tell me to come in and drop it,” I said. “You know that.”

  “Not a bad idea,” Acheron said with a nod. “This seems deeper than we can see right now. What we need is some perspective.”

  “Your job is to help me, not worry if we’re going to get into trouble with The Seven.”

  “We don’t get in trouble,” Acheron said, pushing up the glasses on the bridge of his nose. “You do that well on your own.”

  Two figures clomped through the bushes and approached us. They were about as stealthy as rhinos charging through a field. OSA field agents defined the term ‘blunt instrument’.

  “OSA,” the one on the left said, showing me a softly glowing, intricate sigil on his palm, before looking down at the unconscious sorcerer. “This the suspect?”

  The field agents wore a uniform of black on black. Black suits with black long coats over them, with no distinguishing marks or insignias. It was like a Goth convention on steroids.

  Get a group of them together and you had a ready-made funeral procession. These two were rank and file agents, above average sorcerers with measurable ability, but nothing overly impressive. Their superiors were the real force behind the OSA. They were some of the most powerful sorcerers on the planet. These two were grunts, and about as smart as dirt.

  “I need a full background check on him,” I said. “He was casting way above his skill level.”

  “And you are?” the agent on the right asked, giving Acheron a serious case of stink-eye. “What’s your designation?”

  They knew who I was, everyone in the OSA did, but they enjoyed driving the point home. I wasn’t one of them. I was an outsider and didn’t belong. It was a tired pointless jab, but like I said, smart as dirt.

  “How many Otherkin do you know that roam the streets with a demon partner?” I asked, my voice laced with irritation. “Should I inform Victoria you’re confused about who I am?”

  If the OSA was the magical police, The Seven were closer to a sorcerer black-ops group of elite practitioners. The Seven were feared and disliked, but respected. Especially Victoria. Pissing her off could guarantee an agent, OSA or otherwise, outpost duty…on Antarctica.

  “No need to get bent out of shape,” Agent Left said. “We’re just verifying ID. We’re not aware of many freaks who would partner with filthy demon scum, but hey, maybe there’s more than one of you.”

  I was used to the insults by now. That didn’t mean they could just sling them without consequence. My wrath was one of those cold dishes, and I was in no hurry to serve it.

  Agent Right crouched down and began a full-body scan on the sorcerer. It was standard procedure to make sure there were no hidden sigils or glyphs that could unleash death and destruction on an unsuspecting OSA agent.

  “I need a full background check run,” I repeated, ignoring the slur. “He summoned a Minoras.”

  “Bullshit,” Agent Right said, getting to his feet after he completed the scan on the unconscious sorcerer. “He barely has enough energy to summon a clue, much less a Minoras,”—he glanced at me—“you’ve been sniffing your partners demonflame?”

  “Smells like it,” Agent Left said, sniffing the air. “Or maybe this demon just needs to be sent back where it be
longs?”

  “You intend to banish me?” Acheron asked, his question laced with a gentle undercurrent of menace. “All by yourself?”

  “As much as I would like to dive into the OSA brain trust you two represent, I know what he summoned and have the bruises to prove it,” I said. “Get me a full background check. I need to know who he is and why he was casting.”

  They both eyed me cautiously. Going up against a Minoras wasn’t something to take lightly. I knew they believed me, and that was the problem.

  I scared them.

  “We’ll get right on that,” Agent Left added with a snicker. “Right after hell freezes over.”

  I sighed and glanced at Acheron who nodded.

  “Don’t fry their brains,” I said, silently through our bond as he stepped close. “Just freak them out a little.”

  “One low-level freak out on the way,” Acheron said, approaching the OSA agents. “You may want to turn away for this.”

  I turned to the field agents.

  “You brought this on yourself,” I said. “Enjoy.”

  FOUR

  “Holy hell!” Agent Right screamed, right before turning away into the brush and throwing up. The retching sounds went on for a few minutes, followed by some more cursing.

  “Shit,” Agent Left muttered as he shuddered and turned away. “That was uncalled for.”

  “What the royal hell, Nyx,” Agent Right said, wiping his mouth after a few more dry heaves. “You actually spend time with this…this thing as your partner? You’re more twisted than I thought.”

  “For your information,” Acheron said matter-of-factly, “the temperature of hell would melt the skin off your bones. It’s in no danger of freezing over, not now, or ever.”

  “It was a damn joke,” Agent Right said, looking at me, but keeping his distance. “What the hell are you?”

  I gave him a sweet smile.

  “My partner expects that background report before the sun rises, understood?” Acheron asked. “Oh, and if you ever call me filthy again…I’ll make sure you live to regret it…over and over.”

  “We’ll get right on it,” Agent Left muttered, still shaken. “We’ll head back right now.”

  Agent Left cast a mild weightless spell on the unconscious sorcerer, and his body floated gently off the ground. Agent Right pushed the body back the way they had come, as they retraced their steps back to their vehicle.

  I had once asked Acheron to reveal his true-self to me, but he had refused. According to him, my body had fundamentally transformed, rendering the fear effects of a true-self ineffective. Apparently, my becoming an Otherkin had made me immune.

  It sounded like a lie.

  “I said freak them out,” I watched the shaken OSA agents leave the park, nearly tripping over each other to get away from Acheron. “Not melt their brains.”

  “That was a tiny freakout,” Acheron replied. “Did you notice they left of their own volition? No bowels were evacuated and—”

  “Stop, I got it,” I said, cutting him off, to prevent getting into a conversation about bowels evacuating. “Next time, dial it down.”

  “All I ever do is reveal what is in the viewer’s true nature,” Acheron said, quietly. “What they see is what is within their own hearts and souls. Most don’t take it well.”

  “Well…the last thing I…we need is the OSA coming after you for field agents ending up in psych wards, because you were helping them attain enlightenment.”

  “They wouldn’t dare…would they?”

  “Victoria makes sure they don’t…officially,” I said. “Doesn’t mean they won’t come after you—”

  “Us,” Acheron corrected with a smile. “If they come after me, you can rest assured they are coming after the freak who is my partner.”

  “Right,” I said, realizing he was correct. “Doesn’t mean they won’t come after us…unofficially. It’s not like Vic is watching over us twenty-four seven.”

  “She could be our unofficial guardian angel…Saint Victoria,” Acheron said as we headed out of the park. “You could call her Saint Vic. I’m sure she’d love that.”

  “I will do no such thing,” I said, absentmindedly, as I thought about the sigil from the circle. “She’d probably blast me if I did.”

  Acheron looked up at the sky.

  “It will take the OSA a few hours before we get the information on the sorcerer,” he said, “even with the motivational dose of fear I shared with them. Where to?”

  “We need to find out more about that sigil,” I said. “Let’s go see Liv. She may know more.”

  “You’re serious about this sigil?” Acheron asked warily. “I think we should leave it alone. Forget it.”

  “No. We need answers,” I said. “Plus, we get to see Liv.” I knew she was his weakness. She could easily be anyone’s weakness. “You always want to see Liv.”

  “Ahh, Liv,” Acheron said, wistfully. “This day is shaping up considerably. Fine, you drive a hard bargain, but I agree…we must go see Liv.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “We are going to see her on business,” I said. “Keep it in your pants.”

  “I am the very definition of propriety,” Acheron answered. “I can’t help that Liv is staggeringly attractive. How am I supposed to resist?”

  “I’m sure the fact that she’s a succubus has absolutely nothing to do with it…right?”

  “That’s just a pleasant happenstance,” Acheron assured me. “You do realize I’m a Demon Lord? I’m not affected by her demon power.”

  “You’re a male Demon Lord,” I corrected. “I’m going to repeat myself: we are going there on business. Keep it together.”

  We stepped outside of the park and there, waiting by the entrance, was my Mantis NFN-8. It was a gift from The Seven after the two previous vehicles they provided me were blown apart or totaled. In my defense, it was their fault for giving me sigil-free, commercial vehicles to conduct demon hunting work. Regular vehicles and demons don’t mix.

  Eight, as I called her, was a military APC with all the bells, whistles, and firepower I could need. One of The Seven, Rodrigo the Sigilsmith, even created the sigils that protected it from destruction. She was the only vehicle I knew that could take a direct blast of demonflame, without melting into abstract art.

  I loved my ride.

  She wasn’t pretty, but she was virtually indestructible. Rumor was that the original manufacturer used enhanced metal to create the body, which allowed for the sigils to operate as intended. Whatever they did, it was perfect.

  I placed my hand on the door handle. The engine roared to life as the door unlocked and the headlights illuminated the street around us.

  “I hate it when it does that,” Acheron mumbled, getting in the back. “Why couldn’t they have given you something more sensible…like an M1 Abrams?”

  “Don’t hate on Eight,” I said, tapping the dashboard as I jumped into my seat. “She’s a good girl, and even lets your demon ass ride in her.”

  “It’s not my fault if your conventional vehicles are affected by demon physiology,” Acheron answered, strapping into his seat. “Do you think you can manage to drive like we aren’t being pursued by a horde of angry Brood?”

  “I’ll give it a shot,” I said, revving the engine with a roar. The sound brought a grin to my face, and I saw Acheron wince. “Probably not.”

  “Why do I even bother?” he asked as I stepped on the gas and launched Eight down the street with a yell.

  FIVE

  Liv Rei owned a bookstore downtown.

  Calling it a bookstore was slightly misleading. The Grimoire was what was known as a repository of reliquaries. Liv collected rare books and items from all over the world. She didn’t sell them.

  If she did, it would be like selling magical nukes. The OSA, The Seven and any other number of three letter agencies would line up to take her down and put her away. It would be a nightmare because Liv was dangerous and powerful.

  As l
ong as she remained neutral and refused to sell the contents of her shop, everyone left her alone. Access to The Grimoire was limited and Liv vetted each and every visitor personally. If she said you weren’t welcome…no access.

  The artifacts in her shop were dangerous. In the wrong hands, they could wreak untold havoc and destruction. It meant she had to be careful about who was allowed access to her collection.

  The service she provided was closer to a research reference library. If you made it through her vetting process, you could study the items she housed in her shop, but she wouldn’t lend them out, much less sell them.

  The Grimoire was located in the Village at 221A Bleecker. It was a squat, two-story building, sitting catty-corner to 6th Avenue, sandwiched between Winston Churchill Square and Molly’s Cupcakes. The ground floor was a Sweetgreen—the eco-chic salad chain, with The Grimoire taking up the entire top floor. The only access to The Grimoire was through the lower-level, Sweetgreen.

  I pulled up in front of the Sweetgreen and parked Eight with a low rumble.

  Eight had OSA plates, courtesy of Victoria. This meant local police wouldn’t touch her, much less try to ticket and tow. The sigils all over her chassis gave off a subtle ‘keep away’ vibe, just in case an overzealous traffic officer got too close.

  I had tried to convince Rodrigo to create some ‘run away screaming’ sigils for Eight, and he just shook his head. I remembered his words:

  “The last thing I need is to hunt down innocents sitting in a corner gibbering madness because of my sigils, mija,” he chastised me when I asked. “You get keep away sigils and be smart about where you park that thing.”

  The sun was peeking over the horizon as I killed the engine. Visiting Liv during the day only minimized the chances of dealing with creatures out to borrow her collection by force. Contrary to popular belief, not all monsters kept their activities to the night hours. The real scary dangerous creatures roamed during the day.

  I took a deep breath and prepared myself mentally for the conversation I needed to have. I had to give Acheron ‘the talk’, or he would be impossible to manage inside of five minutes. I swear he had the hormones of a teenage boy discovering girls for the first time.