by Amy Braun
Dad was still motionless, his hand starting to leave Dro’s shoulder. Almost as soon as it was gone, Dro broke down and started to cry. I put my arm over her back and hugged her to me.
“I’m a freak,” she cried into my shirt.
“No you’re not,” I told her.
“Then something’s wrong with me,” she sobbed. “Something’s bad in me.”
I pulled away from Dro to look into her eyes. Tears streaked her pale cheeks.
“Nothing’s wrong with you, little sister. And you’re definitely not bad.”
Dro looked at me, desperate for an explanation. But I didn’t have one, and I wouldn’t lie to her. Dro started crying again. Dad took her from my arms and lifted her onto his lap. She twisted and wrapped her arms around him, clinging tightly. He patted the snow-white hair on her back.
“It’s okay, Andromeda. You must have heard a rumor or had a dream or something. Your sister is right. Nothing’s wrong with you.”
But as Dad looked at me, I could see the hesitation in his dark eyes, mirrors of my own. He didn’t believe what he’d said anymore than I did…
“Con?”
I snapped out of the memory, having forgotten that I was standing in the doorway of a stranger’s kitchen, staring into space. My sister looked at me warily.
“Are you coming?” she asked.
“Yeah. Sorry. Got lost in thought.”
Dro understood when I didn’t elaborate. I didn’t have warm and cuddly thoughts.
We sat down at the kitchen island. The kid’s back was to us as he worked on our drinks, so he didn’t see me looking at the dark stove, the stainless steel fridge covered in notes and reminders, the trinkets and the spice rack on the counter next to the microwave. The kitchen smelled like cinnamon, further reminding me of the home I used to know.
I fought against memories when he turned and placed our drinks in front of us. I glanced in the mug, breathing in the steam and smell of coffee. It didn’t smell tainted, so I took a sip. The coffee was rich, black, and deliciously warm. I could feel the caffeine waking me up at almost the same second it hit my tongue. Dro’s hot chocolate smelled creamy and sweet, and was overloaded with marshmallows peppered with cinnamon, just the way she liked it. She took the mug in her hands to warm them up, looking at her smiling admirer.
“Thank you, Mister…” her voice trailed off, waiting for him to give his name.
“Whoa, don’t call me Mister. That makes me feel like I need business cards.” He grinned. “My name’s Max.”
She smiled. “Thank you, Max.”
Dro reached out and touched his hand, squeezing it gently.
Max looked at her hand and suddenly pulled back. My hand went to my hip. Dro looked confused. Max looked at his hand and then at Dro, like he didn’t know what he was seeing.
“What are you?” he asked her.
“I… I don’t understand,” she said quietly.
“You aren’t human,” Max said, speaking the dreaded words.
Dro looked at me. I had set my coffee mug down and was ready to move if he reacted in a way that I didn’t like.
“How would you know?” I asked.
“Because I’ve got some psychic talents,” he told me matter-of-factly.
I sniggered. “Right.”
“Believe it, Constance.”
I cut the sarcasm. He had my full attention, but his focus was entirely on Dro.
“I got a quick flash when you touched me,” he explained. “You have demons after you. You have for years. That’s why you really came here. To find answers.”
“Demons?” Dro could barely hide the shake in her voice. “Are you sure?”
“I do the occasional palm reading and my dad’s a demonologist. The supernatural is kind of our thing.” An idea must have popped into his head, because he started rifling through the pockets of his jeans. “I’ve got to call my dad.”
“I don’t think so,” I warned. “You still have some explaining to do.”
Max glared up at me. “What do you want me to say? I told you the truth, and you can’t say you don’t believe me. It’d make you a hypocrite, given what Andromeda can do.”
“Max, please,” Dro said. “If you know something about me, about these demons, you have to tell us. They’ve been after me since I was a child. I have a right to know why.”
This was the reason Dro negotiated with regular (well, mostly regular) people. She knew how to ask for what she wanted without pulling out a knife and threatening to cut off a body part. I tended to skip pretense and get down to business.
Max hesitated, then dropped his phone on the counter, wrapping his fingers around it.
“Okay, listen. I can sense certain things about people and things without touching them. That’s how I guessed about the cinnamon and alcohol and how I know your names. But when I touch someone, I can get a flash of who they are. Sometimes if I concentrate enough while touch something, I can even see a little bit of the future. Mostly quick images and feelings, but with you it was more powerful than anything I’d ever felt. It wasn’t just the fear you’ve been feeling, all the uncertainty, but you have more raw power in you than… Than anything. More power than any human could possibly have.”
“What does that mean?” I tried. “Do you know what she is?”
Max shook his head at me. “No. Dad might if she was a demon, but you don’t feel quite like that, Dro. You feel like something else.”
Dro hung her head, running her hands through her snow-white hair. Hearing she was being chased by demons was one thing. Hearing that she wasn’t human and something even a psychic had never encountered, was almost too much.
“Does your father know how to kill demons?” I asked Max.
Max started to shake his head, then stopped. “No. Yes. Kind of. If you want them expelled, he’s your guy, but one-on-one combat?” He shook his head for real this time. “My dad’s crazy, but he’s not insane.”
Damn it. “So he doesn’t know.”
“He knows the theories, but not how to practice them.”
Never mind. “Then you should call him. Tell him he can have a student.”
Max blinked. “You?”
Dro looked up at me. “Con, no, it’s too dangerous.”
I held her eyes. “Demons, Dro. Fiends of Hell. It’s the best explanation I’ve heard so far. Granted, Max and his father will give us more evidence when they have it–”
“We will?” Max asked.
“–but if that’s what we’re dealing with, then I want to know more about them. I need to know how to keep you safe.”
I didn’t add that anything they had on demons might lead us to finding out exactly what my little sister was. That it was just as important as understanding the creatures on our tail. Maybe even more so.
She didn’t like it, but she agreed with me. She didn’t have any other choice. I looked at Max.
“Now you can call your dad,” I said. “I could use an expert opinion.”
***
Max described his father, Manny, as a tough, smart man. I suppose he had to be, given that he was a professional demonologist and exorcist that expelled actual, real demons as compared to dealing with people who were having some sort of epileptic fit. Despite Max’s praise, I wasn’t expecting the man who walked into the kitchen.
He was probably younger than I guessed, but you couldn’t tell from the dark shadows under his eyes, or the tired slump of his weathered face. His hair was gunmetal grey with bits of white around his temples. I could see the resemblance between Max and Manny in the shape of their eyes, lips and nose. Manny was a big guy, and only some of the bulk around his middle was fat. The rest was muscle. He looked like a man who’d endured a hard life, carried the scars of it, but came out as a survivor. I hoped I would be as lucky if I ever reached his age, but I was realistic.
He saw the puddles and boot prints on the floor, and the two strange young women in his kitchen, and had been prepared to chew Max out. Then
he looked at Dro, and forgot all about his son.
As soon as Max explained the situation, Manny whipped out a Bible, the rosary under the collar of his shirt, and tried to exorcise Dro.
“Dad, come on,” Max said. “If she was a demon, I would have done that already. But she’s part human.” He looked at her. “I think.”
Manny looked at us. Max had let us eat a hearty dinner of leftovers from his fridge, but had stopped when his father entered. I was sitting behind the island next to Dro, watching Manny very carefully. He gave me a quick look, but found Dro much more interesting. Everybody did.
“Ladies, this is my father, Manny Garcia. Dad, that’s Constance,” he pointed to me, then moving his finger to Dro, “and her adopted sister Andromeda.”
Manny raised his eyebrow. “Adopted? From where?”
“It’s a long story,” I told him. There was no need to elaborate.
“Dro’s asked for us to help find out what she is, and Constance wants to be a demon slayer.”
Suddenly, I was the more interesting one. “You want to kill demons?” Manny asked me.
I nodded once.
“Why on earth would you want to do that?”
I kept all emotion off my face. I didn’t let him see the deep, dangerous anger that built up when I thought about the monsters and the way they had destroyed everything we’d ever known. How they’d broken down all the walls of safety we’d built with our parents. How they’d forced me to do things that had stained my soul so darkly that no amount of redemption would save me from the pits of Hell.
I didn’t let him see that I was tired of being afraid of the monsters, the Blood Thorns, life on the run. Of Dro’s hidden nature.
“I have my reasons,” I said flatly. “And they aren’t your business.”
Max shrank back a little, and Manny regarded me as a threat. Which I was. Manny was probably getting ready to kick me out of his house, but Dro came to the rescue.
“What my sister means to say is that these demons, have been hunting us for years.” Her ice blue eyes were haunted. “There have been times where they’ve almost killed us. She needs to learn how to fight them as best as she can, and I need to understand what I am and why they’re after me.”
Dro looked at Manny. “I don’t know what we can offer you, but we need any help you can give. We can’t do this alone. Please.”
I hated hearing Dro beg. It pulled at my heart and made me feel like less of the protective, providing sister I was supposed to be. It wasn’t my fault, or hers. It was our lives. Still, I couldn’t help but look back at everything that had happened to us, and wondered what might have happened if I had done something differently. If I could have kept us both from starving and begging and fighting a little while longer.
There was a long silence after Dro’s request. I didn’t like it. It gave them too much time to think rationally and throw us out. It was going to happen. Nobody wanted to take in strays like us.
Or so I thought.
“Dad, they came here because no one else would help them,” Max explained. He looked at Dro and me. “Right? No one else believed you or took you seriously.”
I did nothing, but Dro nodded. Max looked at his father again.
“Besides, Dro can help with your research. She’s something the world hasn’t seen before. She can–”
“Whoa, hold on a second,” I spoke over him. “My sister is not going to be a Guinea pig.”
Max narrowed his eyes at me. “That isn’t what I was trying to suggest–”
“Then you shouldn’t have said it.”
Tension built in the room. Manny moved closer to his son, ready to defend him if I decided to get meaner.
“I’ll answer any questions you have, Manny,” said Dro.
I looked at her. “Dro…”
“They aren’t going to hurt us, Constance. I can feel it.”
Meaning she’d used her powers to take a peek into their minds. But she’d only seen what they were thinking now, at this single moment. When she wasn’t looking, anything could change. Smart people knew how to hide their true intentions, saving them for when they would do the most damage. I’d experienced it a thousand times over back in my cartel days. Everyone looked out for themselves first. The rest of us were left to choke on the dust they kicked in our faces.
I must have been scowling fiercely, because Manny’s shoulders tensed when he looked at me. Dro turned her sweetest smile on him.
“You’ll have to forgive my sister,” she said. “She’s very defensive. But I’ll be more than happy to work with you.” She paused. “I need to understand what I am.”
Manny regarded her with interest, becoming more and more intrigued by her. He didn’t look at her aggressively or without emotion. He just looked genuinely curious. I watched him carefully, waiting for that sinister gleam to come into his eyes, or the hint of fear that suggested he would call the cops. Nothing on his face changed. This must have been sincerity, something I wasn’t very familiar with. It made my fingers twitch, itching for the hilt of my hatchet to remind me that I could take control of the situation if I felt I needed to.
“All right. I’ll answer whatever questions you have. Tomorrow.”
Dro bit her lip. Max cleared his throat. “They don’t have a place to stay, Dad,” he said. “If they spend the night here, it’ll be easier for everybody. They can sleep in the basement. They won’t cause any trouble.” Max hesitated when he looked at me. “Well, Dro won’t. Constance… I’m not so sure.”
I grinned wickedly at him.
“She won’t do anything,” said Dro. “You have my word.”
My smile dropped. I didn’t like when Dro made promises for me. It meant that I had to keep them.
“All right,” Manny sighed, clearly as tired of this as we were. “You can stay one night so we can get some answers for each other.” His eyes found mine. “I will tell you everything I know about hunting demons, if that’s what you still want.”
I crossed my arms. “It is, as long as you keep your end of the bargain.”
Dro sighed heavily beside me.
Manny narrowed his eyes at me. “You don’t put a lot of stock into the human race, do you Constance?” he asked grumpily.
I shrugged. “I haven’t had the best experiences with them. Kind of hard to do when almost every single one has died or stabbed me in the back.”
Another silence followed as I fell into a dark place. I tried to picture the faces of the people who betrayed me in the past, but there were more than I could remember. And I was no better than any one of them.
“We won’t betray you,” Max said, sounding very honest.
He really did seem like a good kid, and I wanted to believe him. From the endearing look in Dro’s eyes, she wanted to believe him, too. But if I had a dollar for every time someone said that to me, Dro and I wouldn’t be living in poverty.
“Both of you should get some sleep,” said Manny, the weariness still heavy in his eyes. “We’ll start first thing in the morning.”
He made it sound less than promising, but at least I could tell myself we were making progress. Hopefully.
Chapter 4
I woke up early on purpose. I was used to running on little sleep, having trained my body to wake at the slightest sound. I took the risk of having Dro sleep on the mattress next to me, like we had when we were kids. I slept near the edge of the mattress, my hatchet under the pillow and a knife on a box near my head.
After about four hours of sleep, I woke up and looked over at my sister to make sure she wasn’t having a nightmare. She seemed all right, breathing evenly and calmly. But her nightmares were unpredictable. I could only pray she wouldn’t burn down the house of the only people who had offered to help us.
I slipped out of the bed and grabbed my weapons, hooking the hatchet through one of the loops on the waistband of my jeans, sliding the knife into another. The oversized shirt I was wearing concealed the blades.
I padded
toward the stairs, glancing back at Dro one more time to make sure her sleeping hadn’t changed. She still looked fine, so I walked up to the basement door, pulled it open and left the room. I ran a hand through my hair to shake it out, stopping by the digital thermostat on the wall to check the time.
5:00 AM. Ugh.
I regretted not taking the time to check the rest of the house before we’d gone to bed. Still, now was just as good a time as any. Only crazy people were up this early.
I made my footsteps as light as possible as I walked into the living room, which was way bigger than I expected.
It was a living room, a dining room, a library, and a den all in one. Across from me by the window was a small white table with matching plastic chairs. In the middle of the room was a dark brown sofa and a matching love seat, a fake oak coffee table in front of them littered with magazines, coasters, and remotes for the TV across the wall. On the left of the TV was a huge bookshelf with hundreds of books. Beside me was a wide desk with a two leather chairs, one front of it and one behind. On the wall beyond the desk were framed certificates in psychology, theology and of course, demonology. The desk was covered with a computer, stacks of paper, a stationary set, and framed photos. I walked over to the desk and grabbed one of the photos.
The one I’d picked was a family portrait that was a few years old. On the left of the picture was Manny, his arm over Max’s shoulder. Max looked like he was about ten years old, a huge smile on his face. I glanced at another framed photo that was the portrait of a lovely woman with deep eyes and a kind smile. Max’s mother, I assumed. I wondered where she was. I hadn’t seen if Manny had a wedding ring. It was something I would look for later.
I put the framed photo back onto the desk and walked over to the books. There were a couple fiction works, but most of them were texts on demons. I read the titles on the spines, but they didn’t mean anything to me. I was a fighter, not a scholar. All I wanted to know is how many stabs it needed before I killed it. Or where it should be stabbed. When it came to research, I didn’t even know where to start.
