by L. L. McNeil
Seila chewed the inside of her lip. If he was anything like Sekki, and from the way Tress was going on, he seemed to be even more dangerous, then Seila didn’t like her chances of fighting Gorath in an open battle.
She had to ask the question she really didn’t want to. ‘And you can hurt him? With those axes? With dragon-fire?’
‘Of course.’ Tress snorted again. ‘Why?’
‘Just checking,’ Seila lied. Was she missing something? Why could Tress harm an Elite and she couldn’t? Was there that much of a gap between their powers? Was she that far behind?
She really needed to get back on the hunt. Since Sekki, she’d only killed a handful of Toxic Fangs, and she still didn’t match up to a Prowler. Perhaps she had simply been too weak to harm Sekki. And if that was the case, it didn’t bode well for fighting Gorath, whenever he appeared.
Seila decided there and then that she’d spend the rest of the night hunting. Claes had told her to patrol, but he hadn’t given her any instructions for where or when. And considering she didn’t need—or want—their backup, she didn’t see the need to tell anyone where she was going.
Unfortunately, demon strength was low with Leeches, Stingers, and Dragora—although the latter were fiendishly tricky to catch given their ability to fly—but Prowlers and up tipped the scales far too much the other way.
If Sekki had controlled Prowlers, Seila didn’t even want to know what Gorath might control. She and the others wouldn’t stand a chance. She wanted to ask Tress about the other demons she’d encountered, the ones from other dimensions, that might slip into this one. To get a feel for what they were really up against.
But asking such a question would make it obvious that Seila didn’t have much experience. Right now, Tress believed her to be like any other Phantom she’d encountered, and she didn’t want to threaten that perception and lower herself even further.
Better to keep quiet, let Tress remain in the dark for as long as possible.
She’d already insulted Damon by calling him a little pup. Seila wasn’t sure she had the stomach for whatever insults Tress chose to throw at her. More than likely that would happen if and when they came across a new type of demon that Seila had never encountered before.
She looked at Tress, who stared into the fire, lost in thought. As much as it pained Seila to admit, they needed her.
She needed her.
The only other person whose power seemed equal to that of Lady Tress was Delgo, and he was an immortal Djinni. Fallow might have had the energy, but she wasn’t a fighter. And although Claes was born an Elemental, his skills lay in runeworking. He was powerful in his own right, yes, but he wasn’t up to Lady Tress.
Seila was certain that Fallow and Claes had other members of the Kouzlo in their arsenal. She’d never heard an exact number from Fallow, but they were clearly stretched thin. Tress didn’t seem a member of the Kouzlo so much as someone whose goals were aligned, and drifted in every so often, when it suited her.
Taking that kind of fighter into consideration, then there could be dozens that Fallow could call upon, surely? And of those, how many were stronger than she was? How many were stronger than Tress?
Seila was sure if she asked, Lady Tress would state she was the most powerful, the best, most effective demon hunter of any member of any Kouzlo, Fallow’s or otherwise. And Seila would be inclined to believe her.
For all her rudeness, bluster, and boasting, Tress hadn’t lied. Everything she’d said, she’d backed up with either an axe or a dragon.
And she was an experienced demon assassin.
Seila sighed. She was both in awe of the woman, and incredibly jealous.
How could she have what Seila desperately wanted? How could she waltz in with no announcement, and slaughter two Prowlers like they were nothing?
Why was she so damned good at it?
Seila wasn’t a very good judge of age, but Tress only looked to be in her thirties. Perhaps inter-dimensional travel slowed aging? Perhaps she came from a world of immortals? Or one where people lived to two hundred? Five hundred? One thousand years old?
She did carry two dragons around with her, after all.
Seila licked her lips. She’d never been any good at sharing. Especially when it came to hunting demons.
But without Lady Tress, there soon wouldn’t be a world left to find her soul in.
5
The sun was beginning to come up by the time Seila returned to Caramond House. She’d managed to find twelve Toxic Fangs and two Soul Eaters, and they’d all found the sharp edge of her Sieken Blade before they knew what hit them.
She’d heard a Prowler far away, and from what she could tell, it was quite young. But after the whole team had struggled against two of them only a few hours before, she’d avoided taking it on. She hated her cowardice, but told herself it was a strategic retreat that was for her long-term benefit.
She believed it.
Almost.
The rush of power from demons into her was something she’d missed. Her skin and eyes glowed with it, a flurry of pure energy that seeped into every part of her, every finger, every strand of hair. It kept her alive, gave her strength.
But it still wasn’t enough.
And now she had something else nagging at the back of her mind. Something she’d never encountered before. Never had to deal with before.
Fear.
Of failure, of losing against a demon, of showing herself to be weaker than others thought. Of Tress and her opinion.
She cursed that the newcomer had had such a strong effect on her after such a short amount of time.
Seila was in awe of Amber’s fire, of Fallow’s magic. But she didn’t feel the same way about them as she did for Tress.
She flew over the gates of Caramond House, the lights outside still on in the murky dawn gloom. She’d expected goosebumps to rise on her arms when she crossed into the grounds, but she didn't feel a thing.
Seila idly wondered whether she was simply too used to Fallow’s magic that she no longer felt her enchantments.
She was about to head for one of the open windows on the upper floor, when she saw a spark of fire near the hedge maze.
‘Damon?’
Seila swooped low, and landed a few feet away from him.
He’d taken up position on a flat part of the garden, the maze to his left, the house a good distance away to his right, and nothing but clear grass until the lake directly in front. He wore what had once presumably been a white tank top, but now smudges of ash covered it and his arms. Sweat slicked his hair down, and he angrily ran a hand through it to keep it off his eyes.
It looked like he’d been out there a long while.
Before Seila could say anything, he bent his knees, balled his fists, and furrowed his brow. He stared at a patch of grass in front of him, jaw clenched as he concentrated. His whole body trembled with focus.
The tiniest flame whooshed into life in the spot that he stared at. He groaned with effort, every muscle in his body tense. The flame flickered. A second one appeared, but immediately vanished.
‘Damon?’ Seila whispered, unsure whether to disturb him. He was so focused on what he was doing, he hadn’t noticed her arrive.
He gasped for breath, the fire faded, and he dropped to one knee. Panting, Damon shook his head, wiped his brow again, and punched the ground in obvious frustration.
‘What’s wrong?’ Seila approached cautiously. She would have patted him on the shoulder, but she’d burned her hands far too many times that way, and preferred not to again.
‘I can’t do it!’ Damon yelled, punching the ground again. ‘I just can’t!’
Seila frowned. ‘You can’t do what? I saw fire appear a minute ago. That was you, wasn’t it?’
Damon’s body shook as if he needed all his strength to hold back a sob. He pressed his knuckles deep into the grass and twisted them into the soil. ‘No!’
Seila blinked. ‘Are you sure? I mean, I can’t see Claes an
ywhere near—’
‘I mean yes, that was me. But that was hardly enough to light a match! How is that supposed to hurt a bloody demon?’ He remained crouched, head bowed low, eyes squinted shut.
She crouched down close to him, tried to lift his chin and make him look at her. ‘You’ve only been doing this for two weeks.’
‘And I’m still a damned puppy!’
Realisation dawned. ‘Ah. That’s only Tress talking. Don’t listen to her.’
‘How can I not, when she’s right? She’s so bloody right!’ Damon opened his eyes and looked at Seila then. The whites were tinged with red, his emotions clear on his face. ‘How am I supposed to protect Amber if I can’t do it?’
‘Well, I don’t think Amber really needs protecting…’
‘That’s not the point! Amber looks after me. Tej looks after me, my car. You swoop in outta nowhere and look after me. Fallow. Claes. Delgo. Tress! Everyone looks after me and I’m just the baby! The one who’s being carried by everyone else all the time!’ Damon rolled back on his heels then sat down. He idly picked away the clumps of mud and grass stuck to his knuckles. ‘You think I like being the one who’s always behind? You think I like making a mess of everything and everyone else picking up the pieces after me? I never wanted this. Never. Fallow decided and just like that,’ he snapped his fingers, ‘I’m like this now. You saw the destruction I can cause.’
Seila licked her lips. She hadn’t realised that she’d need to give Damon a pep talk and wasn’t altogether sure what she was supposed to say. As an ally, he was useful to her. And while she was still playing catch up to Tress, she needed allies more than ever. She thought about what Amber would say, and tried to channel that reassurance. ‘You hid your power for so long because you were afraid. That fear doesn’t go away overnight. Fallow opened your eyes, that’s all. Now you have to deal with it.’
Damon sighed and shook his head. He balled his fists again, but didn’t punch the ground. ‘Claes can make a damned bonfire appear half a mile away if he wants.’
‘You can’t be expected to do the same. He’s a full Elemental. He’s manipulated fire all his life.’
Damon shook his head again. His eyes watered. ‘I can’t do what he wants. What he needs. I can’t spend all day here training. Money’s tight, I have to work. It’s all well and good saving the world from demons, but what’s the point if I can’t run my car? Can’t keep food in the house?’
Seila asked, ‘Fallow offered you a home here, there’s plenty of room, you’ve seen that. She’s funded. You don’t need to worry about those things.’
Damon laughed, mirthless. ‘What do I do? Hello Delgo, Mr All-Powerful Djinni. I need a tank of fuel in my car, can you give me fifty quid, please?’ His smile faded as quickly as it had come. ‘Yeah, right. Not happening. Amber went back to uni. Smart choice. She’s always the one making the smart choices. She knows you need a job, a career. A future! I’m trying to build that, and now I gotta give it all up? What if I don’t even want this?’
Seila didn’t know what to say. She’d always lived alone, by her wits. She’d never had material things aside from clothes, and even those had been rags before Amber had given her fresh ones. She’d always been driven to hunt demons, to the exclusion of all else. Material worries had never been a concern. Never even crossed her mind. ‘Talk to Fallow, then? When she’s back?’
Damon went on, not seeming to hear her. ‘Tej is okay. He’s got his workshop. He goes in when he wants. He knows how to use that bloody crossbow. He ain’t losing anything by being here.’
‘Why don’t you sell the car? You always travel with Tej, anyway. Not like you need it?’
Damon looked at her, hurt. ‘Sell Mathilda? After everything I’ve been through with her!’
‘It...was just a suggestion…’ Seila muttered. ‘The Kouzlo are funded. They don’t need regular jobs. So long as they kill demons, they’re looked after.’
‘I thought Fallow—’
‘Fallow has money, sure. And don’t forget that Delgo is the one who creates everything else. Look at all the tea and coffee he creates from nothing. His clothes. I’m sure he could make some fuel if you need it.’
Damon went silent, focused on cleaning his knuckles.
‘Don’t worry about the little things,’ Seila said. ‘Demons are the problem. Gorath. Other Elites. We need you to fight them, and if you’re like this, you won’t be much help.’ She knew as soon as she’d said it that it was too harsh, but Damon took her scolding in his stride.
‘I know. I know. I’m trying. Bloody hell, I’m trying.’ He shook his head. ‘Less than a month ago I was a welder. Just got my own place. Started to do stuff for me, not have Amber look after me all the bloody time. Now Fallow’s turned everything upside down and I’m responsible for hunting demons? Like mum? Like what she stopped me and Amber from getting into? Now I’m expected to master fire? Runes? Everything? All by myself! And what if...what if I end up the same as mum?’
Seila frowned. ‘You don’t have to stay here. Go back to your old life, if it’s too much.’
‘Not likely.’ He sighed deeply. ‘Fallow’s done a hell of a guilt trip on me. If I can stop demons but don’t…? What does that make me? Just another coward. Another person hiding, waiting to be rescued by someone else.’ He shook his head again, squinted his eyes shut. ‘Mum...Bloody hell, when do I get to make my own choices?’
Seila could see he was getting more and more upset. His face flushed, ears going red. She doubted his outburst was simply from this morning. It had built up over many years of playing second fiddle to Amber, Tej, and even his mother, who was no longer there.
‘That’s all you can do. Try. And don’t worry about Tress. Once Gorath is dealt with, she’ll leave. That’s the only thing she seems interested in, after all.’
Damon nodded, mute. He coughed and wiped his face with both hands, but Seila saw he flicked away tears. He cleared his throat. ‘Yeah. And we sorted out Sekki, didn’t we?’
‘We did.’
‘And...we’ll sort out Gorath the same, won’t we?’
‘We will.’ Seila wasn’t sure when she’d suddenly become his life coach, but she supposed with Amber back at university, Damon didn’t have anyone to vent to. Certainly not at four in the morning with only the singing birds for company. He was out of his depth, trying his hardest, and still coming up short. Not to mention he’d been hiding from the very thing his mother had been, and now had to face it all, head on. Seila didn’t really know what she was supposed to say, but went for as much reassurance as she was able to give. ‘You’ve improved, definitely. Claes seems like someone who’ll only be happy with perfection, anyway.’
‘You’re not kidding.’ He laughed then, a genuine one.
‘Come on. Get up. Show me what you can do,’ Seila said. She straightened, brushed grass off her legs. She rolled her shoulders and her wings materialised.
‘What are you doing?’ Damon asked, still sat on the grass.
‘I’ll fly around, you try and hit me.’
‘You sure?’
‘Well I don’t want to be hit, so I’ll be moving pretty quickly.’
‘I don’t wanna hurt you.’ Damon stood, patted down his clothes.
‘I’ll have this.’ She brandished her newly appeared Sieken Blade. ‘It can deflect most things. I’m betting it’ll keep your flames off me.’
‘Feed.’
Seila ignored the lingering demonic presence in her mind. Sometimes it was annoying when their voices were amplified after a successful hunt. She took to the air with a few flaps of her wings and hovered in place. She held her sword across her chest, ready.
Damon balled his fists, his fingers igniting after a couple of flickering false starts.
When she’d seen Damon fight before, he’d been with Amber. Seila was beginning to realise just how much Amber had carried Damon through those battles. And even against the two Prowlers from the night before, his fire had been wild and uncontr
olled. There was a lot of it, yes, but it wasn’t particularly focused.
Seila suddenly had the awful fear that Damon might set all of Caramond House on fire if she wasn’t careful. She didn’t have much time to dwell on the notion, because Damon immediately hurled a ball of fire at her.
She darted to the side, watched the flames sail past, leaving a streak of black smoke and land on the grass beside the hedge maze. It crackled for a moment then snuffed out. Seila gulped and moved more to the centre of Damon’s field of vision. She really didn’t want the maze to catch fire. She doubted Fallow would forgive her for that.
Damon threw more fireballs at her. They were enormous and slow, and Seila easily avoided them. When she looked down at Damon, she saw he was already panting. She flew closer, within earshot, and said, ‘Less fire, more speed.’
Damon shook his head. ‘I’m going as fast as I can!’
‘Don’t gather so much fire, then. Look at you, you’re exhausted after two minutes!’
‘Don’t you start with that “little pup” nonsense!’
‘I’m not! Just a bit of constructive criticism.’ Seila moved back again, gained several feet of height, and waited. Damon had never taken well to being told what to do.
He yelled, threw two fistfuls of fire at the same time. They were half the size of the ones previously thrown, and much faster. Seila actually had to twist away in the air to avoid them. And then Damon was on a roll. He threw flame after flame, moved his feet, stepped to the side, and got into his stride.
Credit to him, he was a fast learner. When he paid enough attention to critique.
Seila brought her Sieken Blade up, deflecting the fire when she was too slow to avoid it. He was definitely getting better.
Damon could see it, too. He still panted with the effort, but he was smiling now.
‘Feed...here…’
Seila grimaced at the distracting voice, then dropped from the sky as another fireball careened towards her head. ‘He’s really getting into this, now.’ She skimmed along the grass towards him, wings giving her as much speed as possible, and veered to the right at the last minute.
