by LJ Swallow
“Holy crap,” I mutter.
Daniel continues. “Luckily, they keep themselves cocooned in their own world and don’t mix or bother about us. Recently, they’re multiplying more after decades in the shadows, and we’re unsure why. They do contain souls in the same way humans do, and arguably these souls are as trapped as in ordinary demons.”
He pauses as if to say something else, and a shadow crosses his face. “If you do come across one, run as fast as you can in the opposite direction.” A nervous laughter fills the room. And Daniel’s face darkens. “No, I mean it. Run the fuck away. Your angel blood will prevent them turning you into a vampire, which is good—obviously. But the agony of your death will be slow and torturous. And they will prolong it with amusement.”
Shit. I rub my eyes, exhausted after the lack of sleep since I arrived yesterday, and slump down in my chair. How many more variations of demon are there?
“And finally…”
Daniel hits a key on his laptop. I straighten. This picture is of a classically beautiful guy; the kind I’ve seen in photographs. Human, but something more, with a perfection and symmetry seen in the Caelestia. This guy has darker blond hair though, and all Caelestia have white-blond hair. Blue eyes like cracked sapphire gaze from the screen, noticeable even though the picture is a full-length shot. I can’t take my eyes off the picture, drawn in by his. Surely this can’t be a demon?
“Nephilim. Heard of them in your history books?”
“Yeah. Ex-angels. Half demon now,” replies Tom.
“Correct. They still hold all their angel powers; come up against one of these guys, and you kiss goodbye to any chance of survival.”
Gently, I thump my head on the table and groan.
“Not one for hiding how you feel, are you, Ava?”
I straighten. “I didn’t expect this to be so complicated. I thought there was just one sort of demon we had to kill.”
The people around me giggle, and Daniel smiles, but something in his expression smacks of pity. “You guys never do. Do you think as many of you Fated would signup, if you knew how dangerous this job really is?”
“How many die?” A voice from the rear of the room interrupts the following silence. I twist in my chair to see Tom leaning forward, his broad arms crossed on the table in front of him.
Daniel hesitates. “The question you should be asking is how many survive. Because I can give you an exact figure.”
3
I sit gingerly on the bench in the hallway, alone. With each passing moment the indecision grows. Not that indecision is possible—I’ve signed my life away, literally. My back stings from the tracker a woman in a white coat pushed under my skin, around the time she injected me with something they said would trigger my powers. If only the Fated knew this is all empowerment took, and someone could bring the substance to them. Inject us all. Free us.
My head spins from the after-effects. There’s no pain, but the injection already takes over my blood because I tingle and not in a nice way. When Tom half staggers towards me, this confirms my suspicion. Placing a hand out to steady himself, Tom slumps onto the bench.
“You look like crap,” I inform him.
“Yeah, so do you.”
I lean forward and stare down at my boots, pristine and black against the marble tiled floor. The centre we’re resident in while training is nothing like anything I’ve come across before. In pictures, I’ve seen the Caelestia world with opulent rooms of gold and white, brightly lit and shining. The light bounces off the gleaming white floor, the brightness alien. I rub my eyes and look to Tom who sits with his large fists clenched on top of his knees.
“I hope we’re not going back to class with Daniel again,” I say.
Two days of boring lectures about demons, humans, how to behave in the human world, how to track demons, and I’m over it. We’re training to be hunters, for fucks sake. Teach us how to kill.
“I doubt it. What else can he tell us?”
“How to kill demons now we know what they look like?”
Tom’s brown eyes fill with amusement. “I don’t think that’s something they can tell us. I think we’ll be shown.”
“Reckon we’ll fight them now?”
“There’re no demons here. I bet we practice on each other.”
“Shouldn’t be too hard,” I say, resting back and crossing my arms over my chest.
“So you reckon you can take me down? I must weigh twenty pounds more than you at least.”
Tom laughs at me, and this pisses me off. Since I slammed a door into him the other day, our relationship hasn’t exactly blossomed into a good one. He’s won over the other recruits, centring himself as the top dog, but I won’t follow their stupid hierarchy. His arrogance doesn’t sit comfortably with my own.
“Fighting isn’t all about size. We’re here because of our combat skills.”
Tom sweeps a gaze over my figure, eyes lingering too long on my breasts beneath my tight black top. “Yeah, but you’re a girl. I bet I can take you.”
Anger flashes across my mind; not only is he suggesting I’m weak, he’s also looking at me as a potential fuck. I stand, chair scraping across the marble floor. Tom’s eyes crinkle with amusement, fuelling my anger further. “Don’t bloody look at me like that!”
Tom stands too, pulling to full height and looking down on me. “Calm down, Ava. I’m sure they’ll help you little girls overcome your weakness.”
“Fuck you!”
I slam my hands into Tom’s chest, and he stumbles against the chair behind. Before Tom gets a chance to react, I jab an elbow into his throat. He gasps before quickly regaining his composure, then grabs me by the arm, pulls my hand away and crushes my wrist in his powerful grip.
I yelp as he twists my arm behind my back, then regain composure of my own. I kick backwards into his balls. Hard.
“You bitch!” Tom leans forward, holding his hand against his crotch.
Staggering backwards, I draw in a ragged breath. “I might be a girl, but I’m a soul hunter. I’m equal to you, so don’t you ever look at me or treat me as anything different.”
Tom opens his mouth to respond but stops as he looks at something behind me. I spin around. Standing in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, Daniel regards us expressionlessly. In response, I smooth my hair, adrenaline surging again. Crap.
“Inside. Now. Both of you.”
Daniel steps away from the doorway to allow us through. As I pass, he catches my arm. In alarm, I look up into his face. His green eyes harden, but he’s fighting a smile.
Daniel moves his face close to my ear. “You are not equal to him.”
My anger spikes again, but it’s replaced by shock at his next words. “You are far superior, Ava. Don’t ever forget that.”
Daniel releases my arm, but I don’t move, my breath catching in my throat. As our eyes lock again, the anger towards him is replaced with a disturbing mix of fear and something unwanted. Attraction. Attraction reflected in his eyes. I’m no expert, but when a guy looks at you, he shouldn’t liquefy your insides.
This isn’t what I expected to hear. Or feel.
No one has ever told me I’m worth anything before.
4
I stagger backwards, touching my stinging lip. Before I have a chance to check my fingers for blood, Daniel slams into me, and I lose my footing. Landing on my back, I manage to prevent my head hitting the floor, but the breath is knocked out of me. Daniel towers over me, smiles down, and I take back every positive thought and feeling I had about him.
“So, Ava. Hand-to-hand combat. Not so easy?” The other soul hunters laugh, and he joins in.
Sitting in a semi-circle around the large, wooden-floored room, the dozen or so soul hunters wait for instructions. Daniel began the lesson with evasive answers to questions, informing us we can use weapons, but learning to fight hand-to-hand is necessary. He mentions my spat with Tom and suggests I continue to demonstrate my prowess. Daniel’s words sounded
encouraging, and I agreed.
Then he humiliates me.
For several minutes we fought; sure, I fought well, but the bastard used me as an example by showing everyone how weak I am. The fight switched from me with the upper-hand, to landing defeated on the floor in seconds.
Daniel turns back to the class, straightening his sleeves. “Anybody else want to try me? Or would you prefer to practice on each other?”
I wipe my lips and study my fingers. Blood. When did I last bleed? My vision blackens—not because of the blood, but because I’m furious. I have never lost a fight. Ever. And I’m not starting now.
“Stand up when you feel like it, Ava,” he says casually, not looking behind at me as he walks towards the group.
I push into a sitting position and lean back on my palms, summoning the energy to move. The class refocus on Daniel and no one pays any attention to me. Anger pushes out logic; I jump to my feet and charge across the room. I launch myself at Daniel and slam a shoulder into his back with all the force I have left. Daniel staggers forward a little, before righting himself and spinning to face me. At that moment, I know I’ve overreacted in the worst possible way. Daniel raises his hand, and I wait for retaliation.
In Daniel’s eyes, I see something different, not anger or amusement but curiosity. I refuse to show fear and stare straight back into his softening gaze. Daniel slowly runs his tongue along his lip, eyes fixed on my mouth. My angry heat flares into something else, and I’m caught in the moment as buried memories of the rare times I kissed boys surface. But Daniel isn’t a boy; he’s a man who has survived years fighting demons. Someone with battle scars on his strong arms, and eyes that pierce my soul.
Daniel reaches out a finger towards my mouth, and I flinch as he gently touches my injured lip. An involuntary sound escapes my throat, and I’m unable to take my eyes from his. What the hell is he doing? The room falls silent, as if I’m the only person here with him. Daniel bends forwards, moving his fingers from my mouth to my cheek, all the time watching my reaction. I lose my stiffened stance, yielding to the new heat pumping through my blood.
In a confusing split second, Daniel seizes me by the throat and twists me round, holding me in a headlock. The movement is so quick I don’t have time to react. His knees push into the back of mine, and I sink to the floor, sprawling onto my hands and knees.
Daniel crouches down, studying me with his old look of amusement. “Physical force and threats aren’t the only way to disarm an enemy, Ava,” he whispers.
I fix my eyes on the floor, unable to believe I’ve been humiliated twice in such a short space of time. Strands of hair hang down where they’ve escaped my ponytail, and I hide my tearing eyes behind the lengths.
Daniel’s footsteps squeak across the wooden floor to the other end of the room, and I remain still. Focusing on returning my breathing to normal, I switch off from the events of the last five minutes. I stand, rearrange my hair, and stride over to take my place next to the others. Daniel glances at me, and I tighten my mouth, eyes narrowed in challenge. This time he doesn’t smile when he looks away.
“Ava.”
I pause as I reach the doorway. I’m the first person to reach the door in my desire to get the hell out, and the fact Daniel calls me back isn’t subtle. Digging my nails into a palm, I wait as the rest of the soul hunters pass. Learning to control my temper is a tough skill to master but needed. In this new life, not controlling my natural temperament now leads to painful consequences. Tom passes, throwing me a mocking smile.
The last person exits. I close the heavy metal door before I lose my nerve and run through after them. My childish expectations of joining some kind of righteous army dissipate with each hour that passes. Humiliation at the hands of some asshole trainer is not something I’d predicted.
Pulling my shoulders straight, I turn to Daniel. “What?”
Daniel rests against the opposite wall, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. “How are you finding soul hunter life?”
I tuck my hands beneath my arms. “This isn’t soul hunter life. This is training.”
“And how are you finding training?”
Daniel’s mood is hard to gauge. I half-wish he’d show his snide smile rather than an impassive face.
“I don’t think I’m having as much fun as you,” I say coldly.
He peels himself from the wall and approaches. “Fun? You think training soul hunters is fun?”
The hardness to his tone is matched by a tiredness in his voice, one reflected in his pale face. What is his deal?
“Isn’t it?”
“No, Ava. It isn’t.”
His self-pitying tone riles me. “So is this what you do for fun instead? Get your kicks out of humiliating people?”
“No.”
“So what the fuck did you treat me like that for?” I cringe at the forceful tone to my voice and rein it back. The last thing I want is to be sprawled on the floor again, but something in his demeanour tells me he’ll only do that with other people around.
Daniel rubs his eyebrow with the heel of his palm and crosses to the large cupboard at the end of the room. He pulls two bottles of water out and throws one over. I catch the bottle in surprise.
“There’re a lot of weak people who sign up to be soul hunters. I can pretty much tell who will live and who will die by the second or third day.” Daniel takes a swig of water, then points the bottle at me. “Occasionally, people like you arrive.”
I unscrew the cap and gulp the water. “What do you mean?”
“It means I think you’ve a chance of surviving, but you need to learn how. By that, I don’t mean I need to teach you which weapon to use and how to kill demons, but that I need to show you how to channel who you are. I need you to push out the Ava whose attitude will kill her if uncontrolled.”
I swill the water around my mouth, sucking on my sore lip. “So you’re not just a sadist who likes humiliating women?”
Daniel laughs. The short sound echoes around the room. “Doesn’t matter to me if you’re a guy or a girl. I don’t treat either differently. But when I see people who can do this job and survive, I help them.”
The connotation of Daniel’s words trembles along my spine. He keeps saying this—that the recruits won’t survive—and his words make no sense. The Caelestia enlist soul hunters to kill as many demons as possible. Why send their soldiers unprepared and easily killed?
“Help? So you’d treat Tom exactly the same as me?”
“Nope, look how easily you attacked him. No point wasting my time on him.”
I blink. “Wasting your time?”
Daniel sets the bottle on the table and approaches.
Daniel folds his arms to match my stance and stands centimetres away. His proximity starts the rapid-fire heartbeat again. “Ninety percent of the time the soul hunters I meet who succeed are female. Part of the reason is one you may find abhorrent but could save your life.”
“What reason?”
Daniel tips his head. “What did I do that allowed me to blindside you earlier?”
My head aches to match my chest. His combat skills are superior, that’s why. The darkening of Daniel’s eyes indicates a different reason, and I fight down the memory of the spark of his fingers on my lips. Not the combat. This. “Oh.”
“Oh.” Daniel breaks the intensity of the look the way he did earlier and grins as he repeats my word.
“Are you telling me I need to seduce demons?”
“No. But it could help.”
The idea of touching a demon in this way sickens me. Besides, seduction isn’t something I do normally, or have any clue how to. My mind whirls—what if this is part of what I need to gain my Will… No bloody way, I’ll kill the demon bastards before they can touch me.
I push a stray strand of hair from my face and reach for the door handle. “Can I leave now?”
“I don’t just think your attractiveness is what will help you succeed,” says Daniel in a low voice
. “There’s a hell of a lot more to you than that. Like I said, I’m going to help you.”
“Why?”
Daniel’s green eyes sparkle as they search mine. “Because I can.”
5
Lined up on a wooden bench, the silent group of trainees wait for further instructions from our mission supervisors. The men wait behind closed doors, as yet unseen by us as the nervous atmosphere crackles along the line of recruits. One by one, we’re called inside.
I’m distracted as I ache from my fight with Daniel, still attempting to process the events and his words. As I lay in bed last night, my weary mind and body drifted away, replaying the scenario in the classroom, especially the few moments he turned on his seductive abilities. I turned over in bed, tried to block out the image of his eyes and mouth. He’s playing with me. The fact I reacted is my body’s fault. Nothing more. And look where the reaction got me. The lessons I’m learning aren’t the same as in school.
Resting my head against the cool wall, I tap my fingers on the bench. I suspect my frequently demonstrated lack of patience leads to my last place in the line. A growling stomach reminds me how long I’ve waited, and the dip in blood sugar dizzies me. As does the fact each person who leaves the room refuses to meet anyone else’s gaze. Their stunned expressions clutch my chest with apprehension.
Sarah walks from the room, leaving the painted grey door open. The empty look in the girl’s eyes triggers more palpitations. “Have fun,” she says, but her dull tone indicates that’s unlikely.
Without a word, I stand and step through the door. I’ve waited hours to see what the room holds, and my imagination ran haywire. The room isn’t the vast, bare room I expected. The small space closes in on me, stifling. Shelves line the walls, filled with more books than I’ve ever seen. The Fated don’t have a lot of time for books, and although I can read, they’ve never interested me. A man sits at a desk, flicking through the pages of a file and doesn’t look up. Unsure what to do, I hover, drawn to the one bright part of the office, a view out of the ceiling-to-floor window behind him.
