by Lola StVil
“Can I get you anything?” I ask.
“Another vanilla latte, please.”
“Sure, be right back,” I reply as I go to make her drink. When I return and hand it to her, she thanks me. But doesn’t drink.
“Is something wrong?” I ask.
“No, it’s fine. I’m just trying to work up the nerve to do something. I was hoping the latte would help.”
“Wrong drink,” I point out.
“Yeah, tell me about it. But I can’t have anything stronger—recovering addict.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“It’s okay. There was no way for you to know. You’re the Seeker, right?” she says.
“That depends…” I counter. Her eyes turn bright gold: the mark of a werewolf. She must see the panic in my face because she places her hand on top of mine.
“Don’t worry. I’m very team Nyten,” she says.
“Oh, good. I wasn’t sure.”
“It’s fine. I think you must be so brave. If you have some of that bravery lying around, I could use a few drops,” she says, looking out the window nervously.
“What is it that demands so much courage?” I ask.
“I’m meeting my ex here to ask them to take me back.”
“Oh…”
“Exactly,” She says, laughing nervously.
“Was it a peaceful breakup?”
“Not at all. She was there for me. She was the best girlfriend you could ask for. We were together for a very wonderful, turbulent year.”
“Can I ask why it ended? Was it because of your addiction?”
“I used to get high on this thing called Pump. It’s a powder that can be mixed into your drink. It’s gold and makes everything fantastic. It’s like witnessing a thousand rainbows all at once. There’s no worry. No fear. No limits. But it eats into parts of your soul. Every time you use it, your body craves more. Until you become obsessed with it. It’s called being a Tic. It’s the Shadow world’s version of an addict.”
“I read that term somewhere, in a fantasy book, a while back…Guardians: The Girl by Lola St.Vil. Have you read it?”
“Yeah, actually I did. I couldn’t finish the rest. She killed my favorite character in book one and that was it for me. I can’t stand her,” she says.
“Yeah, I get it. I’m sorry, you were saying…”
“Well, she helped me with my addiction, three times. She got me into rehab and got me all cleaned up. And every time, I went back to Pump. Every time.”
“That sucks. Was that why you two broke up, she got tired of trying to help?” I ask.
“No, she was so patient with me. What made us break up was…the third time I went back to Pump, I tried to take her with me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I laced her drink with the powder so that she could get high too. She had an allergic reaction; she almost died. I love her more than anything in the world and I almost killed her. A few days later, she broke it off.”
“Wow…are you clean now?”
“Yes! I’m all better. I know this is the fourth time I’m asking for her forgiveness, but I’m hoping she’ll give it to me one last time. I love her so much. I asked her to meet me here. I’m better around books.”
“Yeah, I know the feeling,” I reply.
“Here I am bitching about my life to the last Seeker. I’m sure you have more important things on your mind.”
“No, it’s okay. To be honest, I’m just trying to get the hang of this world.”
“Well, I’m here. We have a few minutes before my ex gets here. What do you want to know?”
“What can you tell me about demons?” I whisper.
“There are three types of demons. The lowest-ranking demon is called a Slick. They are the ones usually depicted in horror movies. Slicks are ugly creatures who can’t hide their true nature. They can’t blend in with humans at all. They were created by Orah’s rage and anger. They are a very old evil.”
“Got it. Slick. Horrifying to look at. Can’t blend into human world. What about the second type of demons?”
“They are called Transfer demons,” Tracy replies.
“I met some of them. We went to the zoo and they started blinking and then they revealed their true hideous form.”
“Yeah, that’s a Transfer demon. They can hide in plain sight. Until they are about to attack,” she adds.
“Got it. And what’s the third type?”
“The third is the most powerful—the Select. Those are those demons that are normal looking. In fact, they’re usually pretty damn hot.”
“You mean like Kane?” I ask.
“Well, he’s the Keysu, so he’s been promoted,” she says.
“Okay, but before that, he was a Select demon?”
“Yes.”
“And what does that really mean?” I push.
“Shouldn’t the team be filling you in on all this stuff?”
“They are but it’s a lot to cover. Can you tell me what a Select demon is? Why are they so powerful?” I ask.
“Angels are born. Demons—Select demons—are made.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Select demons used to be humans. But along the way an event occurred that fractured their souls. It’s called a Break. Let’s say you have a thief. She’s stolen all her life. But then one day, during a bank robbery, she ends up killing an innocent person. That event is called a Break. After that moment she will be transformed into a Select demon.”
“So a Select demon lived through an event where they made a really tragic decision?”
“Or a cruel, wicked, cold-blooded—”
“How do you know what event turned the human into a Select demon?”
“You mean how do you know what a Select demon’s Break is?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, most Select demons are assholes. They love to brag about their Break. They gather and boast ‘Guess how many humans I killed to get my wings?’ It’s like a badge of honor for them,” she says, disgusted.
“Do you know what Kane’s Break is—just wondering,” I say.
“That’s what’s strange about him. He’s famous for never discussing his Break. No one in the Shadow world knows what event led him to being a demon.”
I wonder if he’ll ever share that with me? Are you kidding, Atlas? He won’t even tell you his first name!
“Oh, my ex here,” she says, looking out the window.
“Okay, good luck,” I reply as I turn away to collect the used mugs on the counter and place them in the sink. When I turn back, Tracey is talking to her ex—Saudia!
“Hi, let’s go sit over there,” Tracey says, clearly nervous. Saudia nods towards me awkwardly, and then the two of them go over to the sofa in the corner to talk. I can’t hear what they are saying but judging by the look on Saudia’s face, things are not going well…
***
After lights-out in the bookshop, we head back to the loft. As soon as we open the door, Remy exits her room wearing a beautiful tight black wrap dress and killer heels. She has on super bright matte lipstick and dazzling drop earrings. She looks spectacular.
“So…laundry night?” Perry asks.
“Nope. Spent all day researching and hammering out possible locations for Pascal. We have a few solid leads but we won’t know for sure until tomorrow. So, for the rest of the evening, the girls and I are going to a party—in Spain.”
“We are?” I ask.
“Yup,” she says with a dazzling smile.
“Remy, would it hurt for you to stay on this side of the world for a few hours?” her twin asks.
“I don’t know. But why risk it?” Remy says.
“You fly all over the place and you don’t call,” Regal says.
“No, but I do bring back treats—right, Perry?” Remy says.
“Yeah; her name was Candy—with a ‘K.’ She was double-jointed and had a thing for angels,” Perry says, daydreaming.
“Can this ‘girl
s’ night’ thing be in the daytime? Or at least on this block?” Regal asks.
“Don’t listen to him, Remy. Let’s go. Maybe getting some drinks into Atlas will help her loosen up and access her powers,” Quinn says.
“She’s already had something in her,” Langston says before she can catch herself. I kick her in the shin. She whispers, “Sorry.” Luckily, no one gets to ask a follow-up question because Saudia interrupts.
“Um, guys, I’m gonna skip the party,” she says.
“Puff, I peeked into the bookshop and I saw you and Tracey having a heavy conversation that seemed to call for lots and lots of bottles of Sum,” Remy says.
“You met up with Tracey?” Perry asks in a serious tone I didn’t think he possessed.
“Yeah, she just wanted to say hi,” Saudia replies. Perry glares at her.
“Stop looking at me like that. I’m not getting back with Tracey. She knows that. Remy, you’re right. I could use a drink,” Saudia says.
“Yes, and lots of girl talk. I have some serious questions. First of all, what was Tracey wearing?” Langston says. Perry rolls his eyes along with the rest of us.
“Can we go party now?” Saudia asks. Suddenly, Mason enters the loft with a white orb the size of a bowling ball. It floats just above his head.
“Do you know what this is, Atlas?” Perry asks me.
“No,” I reply, shaking my head.
“It’s call an ‘Eye.’ It blends into its surroundings and records everything for however many hours it’s programmed to. This one records the past seven days and then comes back to the loft so we can review it. Mason has a dozen ‘Eyes’ out right now,” he says. Right away my heart leaps into my throat. I look over at Langston, and her eyes are wide with fear.
“Do you guys use this orb to spy on Kane?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even.
“Not just Kane. We had a lot of high-ranking demons under surveillance,” Regal says.
“We like to know what Kane is planning,” Remy says.
“Not just Kane. Knowing that you are being hunted by the Shadow world, we are also tracking you. In case you are taken. Your signature is a blue beam with your initials,” Saudia says. Mason places his hand on the sphere and right away beads of light spring from the orb and gather in the air, forming an illuminated map of the world. Right away the red beam starts to blink.
“Kane stayed in the same spot for over five hours? That’s not like him. He usually likes to be on the move,” Mason says.
“Make the map bigger. What city was he in when he stayed stationary?” Perry asks.
Shit!
“That’s Chicago, Illinois,” Remy says.
“Hey, the blue beam just appeared alongside Kane,” Saudia says. Mason turns towards me. The heat from his glare makes me feel both hot and cold at the same time.
“You had a conversation with Kane? You’ve seen him recently?” he says.
“Yeah, we talked,” I reply.
“I don’t believe this! What did he say to you? Did he threaten you? Why didn’t Sadie tell us she fought off Kane?” Mason says, deeply concerned.
“It wasn’t really like that,” I mumble.
“Well, what was it like?” he asks as he studies me. He then faces the map in the air. He zooms in on Chicago, a few hours earlier. He now has a very clear picture of Kane and me landing in the back alley of the bar. I hope to Orah that it stops there. It doesn’t. The device captures a silhouette of the two of us outside the window of the high-rise condo. It’s not hard to figure out what we were doing.
Mason grabs me by my neck and slams me against the wall, shaking the entire loft. My feet dangle in the air. I try to pry his hands from my neck but his hold is too strong.
“WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE PLAYING WITH?” he demands as he cuts off my air.
Regal goes over to him. But Mason summons his sword with his other hand and places the tip of the sword on Regal’s throat, stopping him dead in his tracks. Mason turns his attention back on me.
“I AM YOUR GODDAMN LEADER. WHEN I TELL YOU TO STAY AWAY FROM SOMEONE, YOU DO WHAT I SAY!” he says, throwing me to the floor. He looks down at me and speaks in a wrathful voice unlike any I’ve heard before.
“I let Langston throw a tantrum, I let Perry joke around, and I let a million other little things slide. I do it because every member of my team knows that no matter what’s going on in his or her personal life, nothing is more important than the quest. They respect the mission. The respect the lives we are trying to save. You come in here and act like you’re on fucking spring break! You put every member of this team in jeopardy, and families all over the world, just so you can get laid.”
“Mason, I—”
“SHUT UP!”
He turns his attention to Quinn. He tells her to use her powers and take something away from me.
“What? You want me to take her doors away?” Quinn asks.
“She doesn’t get privacy. She doesn’t get phones. She doesn’t get any consideration whatsoever. No one made Atlas take this quest. But she did. And now so help me Orah, she’s gonna do right by humanity and right by this team. Take the damn doors down,” Mason orders.
Quinn looks at me helplessly and then waves her hands; I hear the door to my room fall and hit the floor. The heavy thud sound fills the loft. Mason watches as the team helps me off the floor. Mason looks at me with contempt and rage. He’s not screaming anymore. This time he speaks in a deadly whisper.
“Atlas, you betray this team again and I’ll send you back to Sadie—in pieces.”
***
Mason’s cell phone rings and he picks up. Meanwhile, the rest of the team check to make sure I’m okay. I don’t know if I am. I don’t know anything at all. I’m feeling shock, anger, and yeah, guilt.
“When…okay…does anyone know why…yeah, got it,” Mason says, and he hangs up the phone with a grave expression.
“What’s going on?” Langston asks.
“There was an unscheduled meteor shower in the Mojave Desert,” Mason replies. The team looks at each, worried. Langston answers before I even ask.
“A meteor shower in that desert signals the coming of a certain god.”
“Nyten is coming to Earth?” I ask her.
“No. Arken,” Perry says with dread.
“I thought Arken already came to Earth when he selected Kane as the Keysu. Why is he coming back?” Regal says. Mason looks over at me with daggers in his eyes but he doesn’t say anything.
“Mason!” Saudia pleads. “Why is Arken coming back to Earth?”
“To kill Kane.”
“The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places.”
—Ernest Hemingway
Everyone at the bar is afraid of me. That’s what happens when you’re the Keysu. I couldn’t care less about their fear. I just want them to leave me the hell alone so I can drink. But it’s a universal fact that the more you need to get drunk, the harder the shit is to accomplish. If it’s a minor situation that needs to be handled, you can down a dozen bottles of Sum, watch the room spin, and wake up the next morning with no real sense of what happened the night before. Then you look over and find some hot naked girl whose name you don’t know. But it’s fine because she was getting over her own shit and has no idea who you are—and she doesn’t care either.
However, if the situation is truly fucked up—like falling in love with the chick you have to kill—then you can down as many bottles of Sum as you want and remain just as sober as when you first walked into the bar. That doesn’t stop me from guzzling down the bottle of Sum in my hand. I follow that with an additional three more.
“Why are your drinks so damn weak?” I shout at the bartender.
“I don’t think it’s the drinks that are weak,” some asshole Transfer demon seated at the other end of the bar says. His eyes start to flicker, indicating he’s about to reveal his true body. I’m sure it’s something slimy and pus filled.
�
�What did you say to me?” I ask.
“I said I don’t think—” Before he can finish, I bring up a ball of black flames from my palm and casually throw it in his face. All that remains of him is a puddle of flesh.
“Now, you wanna add something to the drinks to make them stronger or do you need convincing?” I ask the bartender.
“Yeah, okay. I may have something,” he says as he scurries to the back room. I down another bottle of Sum and look at the mirror mounted above the bar. I spot him standing in the doorway. I address him without looking at him.
“You gonna stand there like some scared schoolboy or come in?” I ask. He starts making his way towards me. He looks around the bar, where there are now five puddles that used to be demons.
“They were less than friendly to me, so I had to be less than friendly to them,” I reply to his unspoken question.
“Okay, I guess,” he says.
“Pest, what do you want?” I demand. He sits next to me at the bar and takes time to choose his words carefully. He does that when my mood is this foul. He thinks that one wrong word will cause me to kill him. He’s not wrong.
“WHAT?!” I shout as I grab the beer from the bartender’s outstretched hand. I down it, and right away I can feel it impacting my body. The room starts to sway—not a lot, but enough.
“I haven’t heard from you in days,” Pest says.
“Sorry, Mom, I meant to call,” I reply.
“Have you had Wave Spots?” he asks.
“No,” I reply.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, Doc, I’m sure.”
“You haven’t had your tonic in almost a week. How is it you’re not having Wave Spots?” he says.
Like most Select demons, the moments surrounding my Break were filled with blood. However, unlike most demons, I keep flashing back to those moments. The flashes are called Waves. You don’t just “recall” the moments during your Break. You are actually pulled into them. Your body remains in the present but your consciousness drags you kicking and screaming to the events that led you to become a demon.
Most Select demons love getting flashes. It’s like getting to look back at their proudest moment. Waves happen during the first year. But I’ve been a demon for years now and it won’t go away. It’s more than a little annoying. There’s a euphoria that comes with witnessing your Break—at least that’s what most Select demons feel. But if you’re like me and felt great despair, hopelessness, and torment during your Break, you’re screwed.