Demonic Dora

by Claire Chilton

  “What did he do wrong?” Dora shouted to Lord Lascher.

  Lord Lascher turned back towards her. “He thought the world owed him a favour,” he shouted in reply.

  “Is that such a big sin?” she asked.

  “It is when you sell your own daughter to the Russian Mafia, so you can live on easy street.”

  She shook her head in disgust.

  What a scumbag.

  “How do you think we should punish him, Dora?” Lord Lascher had a wicked gleam in his eyes.

  “Have this dragon burn him alive.”

  “No can do.” The Sky Huntress called out. “I didn’t have time to refuel.”

  Lord Lascher sighed. “What can we do?”

  “Bite him,” the Sky Huntress replied.

  Dora grinned as an idea popped into her head. “How big is dragon poop?”

  The Sky Huntress turned back to face Dora and flashed a smile at her. Her golden eyes twinkled with amusement. “Big enough,” she replied.

  The dragon zeroed in on the man and glided over him with stretched out wings.

  “Bombs away!” The Sky Huntress commanded.

  Dora stared down at the man and giggled when he looked into the sky at the worst possible moment. His eyes widened in horror as ton of steaming dragon shit fell towards him. He held up his hands in an attempt to protect himself against an avalanche of shit, but even Dora could tell it wasn’t going to do him any good.

  Green and brown coloured, steaming dragon excrement splattered a fifty-foot radius around the man, drowning him in dragon crap and flattening him in an instant.

  “You have an attraction to shit, don’t you?” Kieron asked before bursting out laughing.

  Dora shot Kieron a sideways glance. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to refrain from commenting.

  “I need to visit the rest room. I’ll be back in a minute,” Kieron said as he left Dora standing at the entrance of the Burning Rock Café. She surveyed the restaurant. It was a thriving cafe with a mixture of demons milling around inside. Fire shot up the walls in random bursts, illuminating and decorating the room. The main seating area was home to round leather booths with large black tables inside them.

  I hope they don’t serve dragon in here, or it’ll ruin the perfect day.

  After a fantastic day riding dragons, Lord Lascher had promised to treat her and Kieron to a great meal on the way home. So far, it’d been the best day ever for Dora.

  “Let’s get a table,” Lord Lascher said before he led her through the busy American-style restaurant and towards one of the red leather booths. She eyed the Flamin’ Grill as she passed it. Her stomach flipped over, and she felt queasy when she looked at the rump steak. It was a grilled butt, made of actual butt cheeks.

  Please let them sell something ordinary like fries here.

  Lord Lascher chose a table at the back. She stifled a giggle as she watched him attempt to slide into the booth with some dignity, which was physically impossible. He ended up looking harassed by the seating with his debonair black suit twisted around him and crumpled up.

  She stepped back for a better view, biting back the urge to laugh. Her laugh escaped with loud ‘Ha’ when someone knocked into her. She spun around to see a waiflike waitress losing her balance behind her. The waitress held a mountain of cutlery, precariously balanced in a plastic tub on her left arm. The cutlery spilled as she wobbled, and a few spoons toppled over edge of the tub and clattered to the floor with loud clinks.

  Dora reached out a hand to steady the demon, but too late. The tub flipped over and fell, dropping an avalanche of silver implements on the floor. The waitress groaned before sinking to her knees and gathering up the forks and knives off the floor.

  She was a tiny, little thing with short red hair and catlike green eyes. Dora sank to her knees beside her and helped her pick up the silver spoons and fallen forks. “Sorry,” Dora mumbled, feeling guilty for knocking into her. “I should have watched where I was going.”

  “It’s okay. Thanks for the help.” The waitress peered up at her with a sweet smile. Her eyes glowed with a hazy green light. For a moment, all Dora could see were the waitress’s eyes. She felt a strange tug inside her chest. She shook her head to try to clear the woozy feeling. A wave of dizziness washed over her when she handed the waitress the collection of cutlery she’d collected for her.

  Dora frowned when it took all her concentration to stand back up as she forced herself to rise from her kneeling position. She shook her head and blinked several times.

  Ooh, dizzy.

  She turned away from the waitress and slumped into her seat in the booth opposite Lord Lascher to stop herself from falling over or fainting. She tried to clear her mind and focused on Lord Lascher instead. He was frowning at her with a dark look in his eyes.

  Without warning, he pointed his arm at the waitress as she scurried towards the doors. “Incinerato,” he cried. A ball of fire shot from his fingers. Dora watched it shoot across the room of astonished diners and explode when it hit the waitress in the centre of her back. She burst into flames, screaming as the fire devoured her.

  She spun around to face her attacker as her body burst into flames. Her green eyes shone, and her sharp fangs sprang out over her bottom lip. Her pink skin transformed into green scales before she exploded into a ball of writhing fire. She blackened to a charred husk as the flames died out, and her carcass crumbled to the floor in a pile of ashes.

  “What the fu—” Dora began.

  Lord Lascher silenced her by holding a tiny white crystal in front of her face. “Do you know what this is?”

  “Um, a soul-chip.”

  “Not just any soul-chip. This one is yours. It’s just been chipped off your soul.”

  “How did you get it?” Dora snapped. She curbed the urge to stab him through the face with a fork. Not only had he killed the waitress, he’d stolen a piece of Dora’s soul too.

  “By level law, upon death all property of the deceased reverts to the demon that killed them.” Lord Lascher rolled the soul-chip across his palm.

  Dora stared at the chip. It was nearly pure white with only a hint of something darker tainting it. “Wait, so …”

  “So I killed the waitress for stealing a piece of your soul—to get it back. And that was no waitress.” Lord Lascher’s black eyes swirled with anger.

  “What was she?” Dora glanced at the smoking pile of ash, feeling queasy.

  “She was an arkeol demon. They’re treasure hunters by nature, often found following shiny things in their natural habitat. Although in recent times they’ve travelled into the larger cities where their abilities to find things of value is put to less innocent uses.”

  “Such as?” she asked.

  “Oh, you know, sucking the souls out of innocent girls, grave robbery, working for the Dark Auctions, being resellers on Amazon—that kind of thing,” Lord Lasher replied. “Judging by her markings, she worked for the Dark Auctions, which means she didn’t pick you at random. Someone knows you have a soul. There must have been a request for it at the auction house. If you’d let her, she’d have drained it all out of you, a piece at a time.” Lord Lascher dropped the soul-chip in his breast pocket and shook his head. “Dora, we need to make you evil faster. You’re not safe until you can defend yourself. You’re not safe when you’re being nice to every demon that plays with your stupid human emotions.”

  Dora scowled at Lord Lascher. She was pissed off, mainly because he was right. Mostly, she was angry with herself for being so gullible.

  The waitress must have knocked into me on purpose to get my sympathy. Is that how they take your soul, by playing on your sympathy?

  She realised she needed to start acting like a demon, or she’d never survive in Hell. Dark thoughts plagued her mind as she stood up. In a fit of rage, she walked over to the pile of dust and kicked it, sending clouds of demon ash across the white tiled floor.

  “Did someone burn your dinner?” Dora turned to encounter K
ieron’s innocent eyes when he appeared behind her.

  “Something like that,” she muttered in a dark voice.

  “Aww, don’t worry we’ll get you something else,” he said with a smile.

  She scowled at the black ash on the floor. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll fix it myself.” She glanced at Lord Lascher. He nodded with a glint of approval in his dark eyes.

  This time, I’m really going to embrace evil.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Pooey asked.

  “I’m revising.” Dora put down the book and glanced at her furry friend.

  Pooey inclined his head sideways and read the book title. “In a book about vegetables?” He didn’t appear convinced.

  “No, this is …” She read the title and winced.

  ‘Opscurum vegetus’ means dark magic, doesn’t it?

  “Dark vegetables,” he said. “What? Are you studying the menacing machinations of a potato?”

  “Shit!” She dropped the book and scowled at it. “How am I supposed to learn evil when I can’t even read the book title?”

  “Why do you wanna be evil?” Pooey scratched his chin while studying her.

  “So I can defend myself in Hell and stay here.”

  “Really?” He raised a sceptical eyebrow.

  “Yes, why else?”

  “Oh, I dunno … power, greed and world domination. Things like that.”

  “I er, what do you know about world domination?”

  “That it’s never as easy as people say it will be.” Pooey complained. “Anyway, you don’t need a book to be evil. You just need to care more about yourself than anyone else. That always works.”

  “Be selfish?” Dora didn’t like the idea.

  “The idea feels dirty doesn’t it? Yep, that’s when you know you’re being bad. The trick is learning to ignore the guilt. Why do you need to learn evil so fast, anyway? It’s ages until the big test.”

  “It’s the mock exams in the dining room today at …” Dora glanced at the clock. “Crap, now!” She jumped out of her chair and dashed for the doorway, glancing back for a second at Pooey. “Thanks,” she said.

  “Not selfish enough.” He commented.

  “Fine. Fuck off.” She winked at his pouting, furry face before racing downstairs.

  Kieron pulled a number two pencil out of his bag and placed it on the desk in front of him in preparation for the mock exam. He was nervous, but not about the exam. The knot in his stomach was about the idea of going head-to-head with Dora. She was bound to fail, and that would make her unhappy. All morning, he’d been trying to think of ways to let her win. But since his father hadn’t given any hints about the subject of the exam, there were no answers to give her in advance.

  Maybe she’ll win. She has so far in Hell.

  However, he had done mock exams several times, and not once had it been easy. He knew even Dora couldn’t horseshit her way out of this one.

  He glanced at his father, who stood in silence near the whiteboard, polishing his glasses. They were both waiting for Dora to appear.

  Kieron frowned. For Dora to stay here, she had to ace this exam, but it was complicated. To stay here, she also had to help him improve at being evil. His father had made it abundantly clear. The only reason Dora was here was to sort out his son.

  He clenched his fist around the pencil as the dilemma gnawed at him. Should he try his best, or should he try his worst? Should he win this competition and show Dora to be a good influence? It would appease his parents and gain their support in helping Dora stay in Hell. The other option was to let her win, thus proving she could pass the exams.

  Hell didn’t give everyone a grade for competing. There was only one winner in these kinds of tests. They were competitions where the winners were rewarded, and the losers were made to suffer.

  But, who should win it?

  Against his own instincts, Kieron knew Dora had to lose today. At the very least, he had to try his best. If he helped her win the mock exams, she’d never try hard enough on the real ones, and she needed to win those.

  I hope I’m not matched against her on Judgement Day, or we’re screwed!

  He peered at the clock. It was nearly time for the exam to start.

  Where the hell is she?

  A loud crash echoed in the hallway. The door swung open, and Dora burst into the room. She was panting and holding onto the doorframe. Her red T-shirt hung off her dainty shoulder, baring her soft skin. Her hair bounced around her head in a wild tumble of dark curls. She inhaled a couple of slow breaths before pushing herself off the doorway and walking into the room. Kieron smiled, enjoying the view.

  “Did I make it?” She gasped.

  “Yes you did,” his father replied. “But only just.”

  “Sorry.” She rushed over to the desk beside Kieron and flashed him a smile. His heart did a little leap for joy. He had to fight to contain the guilt that followed it.

  I’ll try to make it quick and painless for you.

  A feeling of sadness threatened to overwhelm him

  “Now we’re all here, we can begin.” His father stood up and lifted a staff off the wall. The staff was a long copper pole with carvings of demigods and tortured souls running down the length of it. On top of the staff was a blood-red gem the size of a fist. Kieron recognised it. It was the Demon Gauntlet.

  “Why do you have the De—” he began.

  “Arentha!” His father banged the staff on the ground, cutting off his question.

  Aww shit!

  The room spun, rapidly becoming a blur. He held onto his desk as the walls smudged into white mush before his eyes. He jerked his head towards Dora to ensure she was okay and gasped when she slipped sideways in her seat. The room picked up speed and spun crazily out of control. He reached for her and grabbed her hand, so the cyclone wouldn’t pull her away. The muscles in his arm bulged up, and his knuckles whitened from holding onto her with all the strength.

  The force of the spinning made him shift in his chair. He glanced down and realised he was falling. The cyclone pushed them both to the edges of the room, so he hugged his desk with his free hand in an attempt to keep hold of something solid.

  What, in the name of all that is unholy, is this?

  He had only read about the Demon Gauntlet in history books. He knew it was some kind of competition, but that was all he knew.

  The cyclone ripped Dora’s chair out from beneath her, and she let out a scream. He tightened his grip on her wrist when her desk crashed into the spinning walls of the room. The only thing keeping her from following it was his grip on her hand. His desk shifted under him as the pull of gravity tried to tug it outwards. The room became a rotating blur, an unrecognisable smudge surrounding them. An abyss appeared at the far edges of the cyclone, swirling around them.

  Kieron tried to hold onto the desk, but he panicked when Dora’s hand slipped out of his. He watched in horror as the cyclone pulled her away from him. He released his desk and gripped her arm with both of his hands, refusing to let her go. The desk dropped into the growing abyss below them, making him cry out in fear.

  “Shit!” His stomach jumped into his mouth when he and Dora fell down into a black spinning tunnel with only each other’s hands to hold onto.

  They fell for only a short distance before hitting the ground with a loud thud.

  His first sensation was sand in his face. He lifted his head and spat the dust out of his mouth, wondering where he was. He groaned and flexed his arms. He could still feel Dora’s wrist encased in his fingers, so he peered sideways to find her. When he discovered her lying face down in the red sand beside him, he exhaled a sigh of relief.

  He enjoyed the feel of solid earth beneath his body before lifting his head to speak. “Dora, are you okay?”

  “What the fuck was that?” She sounded really pissed off and slightly muffled by the sand in her face.

  “I don’t know.” He released her hand and rolled onto his back. He widened his eyes when
he looked up to see an inky blanket of sky with a sprinkling of stars and two moons. “Where the hell are we?”

  “Welcome to the Kikssa Arena!” His father’s voice boomed at them in the distance.

  Kieron sat up, scanning the arena to locate his father. A dark coliseum made of sharp twisted metal surrounded them, and they lay upon the red sands of Hell.

  Is this a staging ground for battle?

  His father stood directly ahead of them on a podium that jutted out of the main coliseum like a stage. The podium connected to the empty stands encircling the arena.

  He narrowed his eyes at his father. Not a hair on his obnoxious head was out of place. Holding the staff must have protected him from the journey here.

  Twat!

  Dora rolled over and looked up. She rested on her elbows, raising her back off the ground. Kieron peered down at her slender form, taking a moment to enjoy the view of her body languidly sprawled out on the arena floor.

  I wonder what she’d do if I kissed her right now.

  His eyes travelled to her face. She was staring at his father and frowning.

  She’d probably bite me for it.

  He wondered idly for a moment where she would bite him, and if he’d enjoy it before his father’s voice broke the spell of Dora.

  “To the death.” His father bellowed, throwing two staves on the floor of the arena.

  The staves landed near their feet, and Dora glanced at them with a blank expression on her face.

  Kieron clenched his fists in anger. “Are you shitting me?” he shouted at his father.

  “What are we supposed to do?” Dora asked. Although, judging by the look on her face, she had an idea of what was supposed to happen next.

  “I’m not doing it.” He folded his arms and looked away from his staff.

  “What happens if we don—?” Dora began.

  In reply to her question, deadly-looking metal spikes shot up through the ground around them, making both Kieron and Dora jump.

  “To the death.” His father repeated with finality in his tone.

  “This is just bullshit,” Kieron cried. “Fine. Whatever!” He turned to Dora. “Pick up a staff, and attack me with it. It’s the only way.”