by R.K. Ryals
Chapter 18
Emma
"You ready?" Deidra asks.
I'm not quite sure what she's referring to, but I don't think I have much choice. Lunch is over, and it was uneventful. Terrifying, overwhelming, but uneventful.
"Ready for what?" I ask.
"Training," she says. "It's where they take us Demons, tear us apart, and then put us back together again."
The concept is both frightening and amusing.
"Like a jigsaw puzzle?" I ask.
Deidra groans.
"No, jigsaw puzzles are pretty when finished."
We are in the hall now, standing at the foot of the spiral staircase, and I stare at her.
"And we won't be?"
I have sudden images of myself wrapped in Conor's arms in the sea, horrible monsters in the air as we cower beneath the waves. Funny that I consider a wise evasive move cowering. I had wanted to confront the beasts. Rule them even? The images are fuzzy, a nightmare I can't really remember, but I had felt power. I had enjoyed the rush. Deidra is right. Jigsaw puzzles are prettier.
"We're already broken, you know," Deidra whispers.
She sounds sad suddenly, and I look down at the top of her head. She is too young to be without a family. I am in that funny stage, that part of life where I'm supposed to be disentangling myself from childhood and entering adulthood. I am alive, and I am utterly alone. I am standing on a precipice and there is nothing I can do but jump. I reach down and take Deidra's small hand in mine.
"Broken but fixable. Always fixable," I say softly.
She looks up at me, smiling, her eyes lighter until she looks over my shoulder. And then I see the fear.
"Daughter of Enepsigos," a female voice says lightly.
There is laughter in her declaration and something darker. I read the emotion easily, and my spine stiffens. The Demon world is remarkably similar to the wild. The weak is never safe. Her voice is full of challenge.
"It's unheard of, you know."
I turn slowly, my eyes landing on a curvy, raven-haired girl. She is shorter than I am by a few inches, but she stands tall, her jeans and red top hugging her body like a glove. Her eyes are onyx. I don't speak because I don't really think she expects me to. Deidra stands defiantly at my side. I think the imp gives me too much credit. I am at a disadvantage here.
"Enepsigos has never been known to have offspring. Strange it should be you," the girl says.
I don't rise to the bait. She isn't aware of my upbringing, or if she is, she doesn't realize it has prepared me for verbal attacks. I don't fear them, I avoid them. I stare at her, willing my shaking hands still. She isn't pleased with my reaction.
"Are you mute?" she asks.
The words are dripping acid. She isn't a typical "mean girl." I am pretty sure this school doesn't have a caste system. She is merely circling a potential enemy.
I am still, unmoving, my eyes locked with hers. I can feel her emotion. I can feel her unease. It is startling. If I was able to do this before, I was unaware. But I had also avoided human contact. Now, I am being thrust into society, a new potentially deadly society, and in one stare-filled moment, I suddenly know what it is to be a Demon.
Demons are solitary beings, territorial, and ruled by their own greed. By power. The only thing they fear is each other. They fear being controlled by stronger Demons. They fear possession.
I shudder despite my attempt to appear unflappable. The girl smiles. She doesn't realize my fear is her fear.
"I am Lyre. I am the daughter of Pleiades. I cannot be ruled, you understand. I'll kill you first," she warns.
I am not prepared for the attack. I am not prepared for the power that suddenly rushes through me. I am not prepared for the blood I taste in my mouth when my head hits the wall opposite the staircase. I am not prepared for the hatred that overwhelms me. It isn't my hatred. It's hers. I am the daughter of Enepsigos. Her mother is weaker. She hates weakness.
Deidra is suddenly next to me, and I use the back of my hand to wipe away the blood dripping from the corner of my mouth. I have bitten my tongue in the impact. It smarts, but the wound doesn't feel deep. It is the blood running down the side of my head that is startling. Head wounds tend to bleed profusely. Mine is no exception.
"I don't want to rule anyone," I whisper as Lyre moves toward me.
Her eyes are red now. My head is pounding. I can feel how pleased she is. She lifts her hands, and I duck my head, my back going into the wall just as I hear Lyre scream.
"Oh, my God!" Deidra says next to me, and I look up to find Conor Reinhardt standing before the screaming she-Demon, her mouth open as he holds her wrists in his stone-like hands. His eyes have her entranced, and she cannot move. I don't know what he's doing to her, and I don't have any desire to find out.
"Tom!" Conor yells.
Lyre flinches as a tall, brown-haired man moves through the hall. He is dressed as simply as the rest of us, jeans and a solid green tee. His hazel eyes are trained on Conor and Lyre. Conor doesn't move, his eyes still locked with the Demon's.
"Control your Demon, Tom, or I'll gladly kill her."
Tom shrugs as Conor finally lets go, shoving Lyre gently toward the other gargoyle. He turns to me, his eyes searching. Deidra's hand is lying on my shoulder, and it tightens.
"I'll be damned," Deidra mumbles.
I touch my head carefully. There is blood everywhere.
"What?" I ask as Deidra begins to stand, her eyes on the approaching gargoyle. Conor looks determined, resolved.
"Conor Reinhardt is your Guardian," Deidra says, her voice full of awe.
I am confused.
"Wasn't he before?"
Deidra shakes her head.
"Are you okay?" Conor asks as he reaches us.
He crouches and takes me by the elbow. I stand up slowly, my head spinning. Lyre's emotions are suddenly gone replaced by something different, something odd.
"We are like pack animals," I say suddenly.
Conor's eyes find mine.
"What?"
My eyes are on the hall now. There are hybrids moving silently through the chateau. Some are talking, laughing even, and they are being shadowed by gargoyles. Guardians. I am not sure where they are headed. Training? To some unknown lesson I'm still unaware of?
"We are pack animals who were not born to be a part of a pack."
My eyes never move from the thinning crowd. I am speaking for a group. Some of the words feel like my own, but others feel channeled. Conor looks at Deidra.
"Go to class, Alexander. Emma needs some time."
Deidra gulps, but I feel her leave me, slinking into the darkness. I don't see her Guardian, but I know he or she must be near. I hope they are near.
"What are you trying to say, Emma?" Conor asks.
I turn to look at him, my mind a jumble of mixed emotions. I am afraid, but I'm not sure anymore if the fear is all mine.
"Demons are solitary beings that fight constantly for dominance. Putting them . . . us here in one place is asking for trouble. We are being forced together, and we are struggling to destroy each other. Why do you do it?"
His eyes move over my face, and his brows furrow.
"There is good here. You haven't met them all, Emma. Some people believe the hybrids are worth saving."
I watch the play of emotions on his face, and I know the truth before I even ask the question.
"Do you?"
Conor looks me in the eye.
"No."
Sadly, I agree with him.
