by Tarisa Marie
Mason looks to Aria and scrunches his eyebrows together, then he disappears into a back room and returns with a brown, bronzy looking knife. I become understandably a little bit uncomfortable.
He sets it down onto the table between me and him.
“Touch that,” he instructs and looks to me expectantly.
“Okay?” I look at him carefully, attempting to understand what the point of this is. I slowly move my finger towards the blade and touch it. Immediately, a harsh burning sensation radiates from the point of touch, up my finger, up my hand, and then up my arm. I remove my hand before the pain can climb any higher, and I shout in pain and shock. What the hell is that? It feels like I just got electrocuted.
“The metal that knife is made from is brass. It’s the only weapon that can kill a demon,” he explains. Then he lies one of his own fingers down on the metal. Aria does the same. “To be blunt and straight forward, you, Megan, are part demon.” He motions to himself and then to Aria. “We are the things that kill demons. See, the knife doesn’t burn us, but look at your hand.”
I glare at him, signifying that I’m not at all amused by this blasphemy. I don’t find this funny at all. I look down at my hand and see that it’s bright red as if irritated by a chemical or something, then I look to their hands and see that the knife has not bothered either of them one bit.
“Your father was a demon, so that makes you half-demon or what we call a halfling. Since you’re not a full demon, you have a soul, and you’re basically human because the demon virus in your blood doesn’t become activated until you lose your soul,” Mason continues, even after taking in my look of disgust and annoyance. I don’t even know what to say. Demons? Good one, guys.
“You’re in for some trouble, Mason. Crispen’s coming up the stairs cussing if you don’t hear that,” Aria says through a giggle, like she finds this all amusing. Then she looks towards me, amusement framing her face. “This should be good. Be ready for a fight.”
Mason doesn’t look bothered at all. How does Aria know that Crispen is coming up the stairs? I look around the room quickly for a security camera screen or something that will explain her observation. I come up blank.
Before I have the chance to think about it any further, Crispen bursts through the door. “Don’t you dare, Mason!” he shouts, anger clear in his expression. I’ve never seen Crispen so angry. If I thought he upset earlier, I’ve just been proven wrong.
“She has the right to know! It’s dangerous for her to not know!” Mason shouts in an equally angry tone.
Crispen rubs the back of his neck with his hand like he always does when frustrated or nervous.
Mason stands from his spot at the table and slams his fist down. So much for the easy going guy he seemed like a few minutes ago. “Crispen, you’re not thinking about this rationally! You’re being ridiculous. How do you not see that?! If Aria and I are going to be helping you out with her, then we agree that she has to know.”
Crispen grabs a knife from the wall of knives and hurls it at Mason, but Mason is quicker, dodging the knife incredibly fast and chucking the brass blade from the table at Crispen. It slices deep into his stomach and blood oozes out grotesquely. I scream, both in terror and surprise. Mason won the argument alright, and it’s going to cost Crispen his life. I automatically reach for Crispen’s phone in my pocket, and I am about to dial 911 when Aria snatches it from me.
“You bastard,” Crispen growls and pulls the blade from himself. I wince just watching it. How in the hell did he just do that? Blood oozes from him, slapping into the ground. He’s losing way too much blood. I glare at Aria as if she’s insane. Why don’t I have my own phone with me?
Crispen then throws the knife at Mason who dodges it nearly effortlessly. The knife slices into the wall behind him.
I sure as hell don’t want to be in the path of a flying knife, so I rush to the far end of the room and glue my back to the wall in terror. Crispen is standing in front of the door, so escaping the building is not an option. He removes his shirt hastily as if it’s getting in the way and tosses it to the side. The gaping hole that I expect to be in his stomach is nonexistent. All there is is blood, but it’s not dripping to the ground anymore, he’s stopped bleeding.
Mason lunges to grab the knife that’s stuck in the wall. He moves so fast that I hardly even see him move.
“Crispen, she watched you fall from a window, land on your back, and then show up here all fine and dandy. Now she’s seen a knife go straight through you, you pull it out, and chuck it at Mason. She’s looking at you like you’re some sort of thing right now, because to top it all off, you just healed completely in the blink of an eye from a normally fatal wound. Normal people don’t do any of that! I think she already knows that something pretty fucked up is going on, Crispen!” This time it’s Aria that shouts. She approaches me with her hands raised in surrender as if she thinks I may be afraid of her or something. I’m truthfully not sure if I’m scared of her. Should I be? I’m more scared of Crispen and Mason right now, you know, the ones throwing around knives like they’re toys, not deadly weapons. “Now, would you two quit fighting? She’s obviously terrified and about to go into shock if she hasn’t already. Normal people don’t have knife-throwing parties in their homes!”
Crispen cusses and kicks one of the white couches which is now covered in his crimson blood. A deafening crack sounds, and I know he’s broken a wooden piece of its structure. Ow. I wonder how his toe feels.
Mason simmers down easily and takes his seat again at the table like nothing just happened, but Crispen remains standing. For a moment, his back is to Aria and me, then a moment later, he slowly turns to face me. He’s quite obviously still angry at both of his siblings. He flashes a quick glare at Mason, glances to Aria momentarily, and then his eyes finally land back on me. A sad expression arranges in his facial features, and he looks deeply saddened and frustrated. He actually looks exhausted.
“I want to start by saying that, Megan, I’m sorry for what this conversation will cause in the future for you, but these two are right, you need to know what is going on so we can keep you safe. Either way, you’re in danger. I don’t know what the most poisonous route is for you. They both suck and will probably have the same outcome unfortunately.” Crispen fills his cheeks with air and then lets it escape in a huge sigh. “Aria, Mason, and I are immortal. We were born or I guess made in the 1700s by alchemists in search of a way to rid the world of the overwhelming numbers of demons wreaking havoc on humans.” He continues to stare at me. He gages my reaction.
I stare back at him, my body not allowing me to move in any way.
He continues, “We were the first hunters, but we are certainly not the only ones alive today. Demons are wicked creatures from hell, or whatever you want to call it. They come from a realm of pure evil. They live off of human souls. They create more of themselves by removing one’s soul and performing some weird ritual thing.”
Crispen pauses to again to take in my reaction to his words, then he continues. “Demons can sometimes, but not often, procreate with humans. Your father was a demon, so you are therefore half-demon. Although rare, halflings like you, do exist throughout the world. Usually, halflings die at birth. Those who don’t, are either left with their human parent to live a human life, or the demon parent decides to find them once they’re eighteen, train them, and make them a pure blood demon by tearing out their soul. I don’t know much about how it works honestly, because I’ve only met a handful of halflings. I mean, they get a choice. They either get their souls torn out, or they can choose death. Obviously death would be the better choice,” Crispen says in a very fast rant. Normally I’d be screaming at him to put a shirt on, but I can’t bring myself to care about his half-naked body right now. “Beyond having you touch brass, I can’t really prove that you’re half-demon. I mean, I guess you could ask your father about your lineage, but I doubt that you want to do that as he’s kind of an ass. We’ve had our run-ins with him
over the years. I can, however, prove that I am immortal.” He gestures to where the knife went through him only a couple minutes ago, the gaping hole that gushed blood and somehow disappeared.
Mason grabs a beer from the fridge and offers me one. I somehow manage to shake my head. Normally, I would think that Crispen was some kind of wacko, but the thing is, Aria is right. Today, I’ve watched Crispen fall from my upstairs bedroom window to the ground and be totally uninjured; I watched him move impossibly fast; and also get impaled, pull out the knife, and heal completely in seconds. I’m inclined to listen to what he has to say merely because I’ve seen the impossible today, and I am desperate for answers, although I cannot even digest that I could possibly be half demon, because that’s just terrifying, insane and crazy. I think back to the many horror movies I’ve seen. I hate horror movies by the way. All I can see are entirely black eyes and death. Black eyes. The thought takes me back to Landon’s eyes. They were black. Oh my god.
“There’s a reason why you’ve had trouble making friends in the past. People subconsciously sense your demon blood and instinct tells them to stay away,” he adds quickly. “It’s why you’ve never really been close to anyone besides me. No one wants to be friends with evil.”
The room is filled with complete silence for a long moment, as I attempt to make sense of all of this. No, no, no. This can’t be true.
“See? She’s handling it just fine,” Mason says cockily. “What did I tell you?” He sips his beer and scratches his head lazily. If only he could hear my thoughts right now. Handling it just fine my ass. I’m having a mental breakdown on the inside. Well, not quite, but I know that I should be.
Crispen comes closer all too quickly and grabs my hand in his firmly. I jerk my hand away from his and take a step back, backing right into the wall. Part of me wants to run, but I’ve seen how fast he can move, and I know I won’t get anywhere.
“When you moved into town, Blayk saw the ring on your finger and assumed that you were a hunter like we are. He created a plan to meet with you, get information, and then kill you. Only, he found out that you were human after kidnapping you from city clean up and taking you to his house that day. Demons can’t sense other demons, so they were unaware of your mixed blood. Hunters though, can sense when demons are near. Demons cannot sense hunters.” Crispen pauses again to let me process things. This is way too much information way too fast.
I hold up a hand as he opens his mouth to start again. When I don’t speak for at least a full minute, he starts again. I don’t stop him, even though I haven’t processed any of this yet. “Although Landon let you go for whatever reason, Blayk and every so often another guy have been trying to get to you for weeks. Mason’s been doing some research, and he thinks that Blayk might have some connection to your father.”
I shiver at the thought. I should’ve listened to Landon and left the city, province, or even country. I silently cuss. My father? What? Again with the coincidences, I’m starting to wonder if there are any at all and if this is actually all connected somehow.
“When I saw you wearing the ring, I too was intrigued, because I sensed your mixed blood. A halfling wearing a hunter’s ring...I was interested to say the least,” Crispen continues explaining, his eyes off in another place as if he’s deep in thought. He rubs his chins with his thumb and forefinger.
So I was supposedly kidnapped by demons? Blayk and Landon are demons and they may be connected to my father?! Can it be true? Can everything Crispen has said be true? I immediately tell myself no, that it can’t be true, but, like I said, today I’ve seen the impossible, and Crispen’s story does manage to give me pieces to the puzzle that fit, even if it all sounds absolutely insane.
“You have no reason to fear us, Megan, we won’t hurt you,” Aria reassures me, her doe-like eyes bearing into mine.
“Crispen and Aria have been protecting you for weeks while I’ve done research actually, so quite the opposite,” Mason adds quickly, followed by a long drink of his beer.
“I thought alchemists made gold from mercury or something,” I spit out finally. I recall learning something along the lines of this in grade school. You’d think that there would be a more important question come to mind, but I guess I must be in shock. I just know that I have to say something. If I don’t, I’ll probably either burst into tears or pass out, knowing me.
Aria’s face brightens a little, some of the worry in her eyes dissipating. She explains that, yeah, actually they were known for creating things like silver and gold, and many alchemists did just that or claimed to at least, many were frauds, but the group of alchemists they knew was special. They were a branch off of the original metal-creating alchemists. This branch was made up of some of the surviving witches of the Salem witch trials. Years before the trials, they branched off from the original alchemists to pursue witchcraft in higher depths than merely creating metals. In 1702, after escaping the thirteen colonies with their lives, they arrived in England which was soon to be the Kingdom of Great Britain in 1707. It was there, that Crispen, Mason, and she were looking to avenge their parents’ murder.
“Our parents were murdered while we were out picking berries one afternoon, and we saw the culprits leave our home. They had dark, empty irises and wore only black cloaks. They were absolutely terrifying.” Aria looks bothered by her own story. A sickly look invades her beautiful appearance, and she is suddenly as white as a ghost.
She continues after a brief pause, telling me that Crispen, Mason and she were only in their mid-teens, orphaned, and living on the streets. One day, soon after the incident, they were at church and told a man there about what they witnessed. The man explained that their parents had been killed by demons. It was he who brought the three siblings to the alchemists.
I nod for her to continue, assuring her that I’m not yet lost, though I am taken aback. She takes a breath and then continues again. “The alchemists had watched throughout generations as demons killed off large chunks of the human population with disease, murder, and possession. Naturally, the alchemists had been working on a weapon to kill demons for centuries, and finally, in 1702, they were coming close.”
Crispen cuts in to add something. “The legend said that some sort of metal could do the job, so in the past, the original alchemists worked at creating metals, this is, of course, how alchemists originally became known for creating metals. Our alchemists, however, believed that any metal could be used, that the metal only had to be dipped in a fancy mix of herbs. They were wrong in their thinking that any metal would do. Through trial and error, they learned that brass was the metal that had to be used. The only thing was that humans were no match for demons, and it was next to impossible for a human to get close enough to a demon to kill one. So over the next decade as their abilities evolved thanks to a rather adept young alchemist, they worked on creating another weapon, an immortal one. By the time this young alchemist ended up finding something, we were in our mid-twenties.”
Aria and Crispen both look to Mason as if they want him to speak, so he clears his throat and continues the story. Apparently, the alchemists weren’t sure if what they had come up with would work. They thought that it might kill the person who they tested it on. It was a mixture of dangerous chemicals and things that a human shouldn’t ingest. “I volunteered, because I wanted nothing more than to kill my parents’ murderer. I was well aware that I might die, but I didn’t care. I woke up the next day, the first immortal to walk the earth. Well, besides the demons of course. I was the first real enemy of the demons,” Mason almost boasts. “Aria and Crispen too, wanted to become like me, but the alchemists who helped us were wiped out soon after their success by illness. A demonic illness of course. The demons who had been chasing them around the world for generations, finally caught up with them, killing them. Luckily, before they died, they gave me instruction on how to create more like me. They weren’t sure if it would actually work, as it was all theory and obviously hadn’t been tested. In the end, it hap
pened to work, and Crispen and Aria joined me as immortals. The last of real alchemists of any sort, were wiped out around 1740 by demons.”
All of this information makes my head swell. Crispen tries to grab my hand again. This time I’m too distracted by my own thought to jerk away. I let him hold my hand.
“Over the years we’ve created more like us to help us win the fight against the demons. We all wear these rings. On the front is our family’s crest, on the inside, our names. Each person who we make like us, changes their last name to ‘Ranchiller’ to protect their real families from demons. Ranchiller is a made-up surname that doesn’t truly belong to anyone. Darius Ranchiller, the name on the inside of the ring that you thought was your father’s, was a hunter like us. He was a good man, and your nasty father didn’t kill him like I told you he did earlier today. Instead, he did something far worse and turned him into a demon. Unfortunately, we are not immune to that curse,” Crispen explains and squeezes my hand.
Please, someone wake me up from this nightmare! This really can’t be right. Just hours ago I thought everything was normal. Now look at this. I’m half demon. Half demon.
I need a breath of fresh air. I can’t breathe in here. I know I should be freaking the hell out right now, but for some reason, I’m okay. I mean, I’m freaking out, but I’m not about to have a mental breakdown like one would think you would after finding all of this crap out. I must be in shock.
I pull my hand from Crispen’s and run out the door, needing silence to process all of this. Instead of waiting for the elevator, I race down the stairs and out the front entrance. No one stops me to my surprise, but I know that they’ll be watching me closely, probably from the window above the entrance to the building. Truthfully, I don’t really want to leave their sight after finding out that I’m being stalked by demons. I need their protection even if their lack of humanity freaks me out. They’re immortal. By the sounds of it though, they’re definitely the good guys in this. Holy bat crap hell fire.
