by G. Bailey
“Alexandria, but people close to me call me Lexi,” I reply. Luc is a sexy man name for sure.
“Alexandria.” My name is spoken so softly on his lips. I find myself liking my name for the first time in my life. “You shouldn’t shorten it; it suits you.”
“Isn’t Luc short for something?” I ask.
“Well, while you ask—” He stops talking as my phone rings in my bag.
“I’m sorry, one second,” I say, and I see him nod in the corner of my eye as I open my bag, pushing aside my keys with a giant heart-shaped keyring I won in the arcades a few months ago, and grab my phone. I frown when I see it’s my dad calling me. He never calls me. I unlock my phone and answer the call, hearing nothing but heavy breathing for a second before Dad’s hurried voice shouts down the phone.
“Come back home. Now!” The line goes dead, and I shake my head in confusion, shoving my phone back into my bag.
“I’m sorry, I need to go,” I explain.
“Is everything okay?” he asks politely.
“Yes, I’m sure it is or will be. Sorry again,” I say, climbing out my seat and looking back at Luc as I walk away. Flipping dammit, I finally meet a hot guy, and I’m leaving him behind. I run out of the restaurant and across the empty street to the church, only to pause when I see a shadow of a man in the doorway.
“A church is a funny place for a family of demons to hide.” The gravelly voice makes me nervous as I step back, and the man steps forward into the light. He wears a hood that drops down to his stomach, with two slits for his eyes that I can’t see very well from what looks like a mask under the hood. He holds two shiny red swords in either hand, and something about him really scares me.
“Halloween isn’t for another three months,” I tell him, looking around me and seeing nothing but the empty street and the diner in the distance. If I run to the diner, maybe Luc is still there, and he can help me hide from the creeper. The cold wind blows around me as I look back at the strange, hooded man.
“Your parents have been captured for breaking the sacred demon law. Come with me now, or you will break the same law and face the same fate.”
“Where are my parents?” I ask him, stepping back once more. Something is so very wrong. Did he just say my family are demons and broke the law? What a flipping load of crap.
“Don’t do this the hard way, little demon. I do like innocent virgins just like you for my dinner, and no one knows you exist at all. It would be too easy,” he says, seeming to ponder over some crazy idea of eating me as I try not to puke.
“Sorry, you’re not my type, mate. You can go and fuck yourself if you think—” I scream as he moves in the blink of an eye and is in front of me. He moved so fast, too fast. The hilt of his sword slams into the side of my head in the next blink of an eye, and darkness takes me under without a fight at all.
Chapter 3
Demons are flipping real. Who knew?
I flutter my eyes open as I come around, seeing that I’m lying on a damp, gray stone floor, the moisture making my cheek stick to the stone. It certainly smells like something died in here as more of my senses come back to me, including the headache I didn’t have before. I pull myself up off the stone and look up at the thick gray bars that lock me in this cage of little else. There is a spotlight above me, shining light onto the cell, and the bars are so close together that I doubt I could get my fist through them. I move my hand to the side of my head, instantly flinching from the sore lump I find there.
That hooded weirdo didn’t give me a chance. I run my other hand over my clothes, figuring out I’m in the same ones I was wearing to the date. At least there is that.
“Hello!” I shout, using the bars to pull myself up. My hello echoes down the rows and rows of cells that I can see, but no one answers. I don’t know how long I pace my cell, running over and over the words of the hooded sword man just before he knocked me out. It was a cheap move, and I had no chance of defending myself.
All those self-defence classes Mum made me go to were clearly a giant waste of time and money. I rub my arms as I remember his crap about demons being real and saying I was one of them. He called me and my family demons for a matter of fact—which is crazy, like new-realms-of-crazy-that-have-never-been-found-yet crazy. It’s more likely that the man is a lunatic, and now I’m locked in his basement for the rest of my life.
At least I won’t have to go to school again...
“Flipping hell, I’m losing the plot,” I mutter to myself, crawling to the bars and wrapping my hands around the cold metal. I rest my forehead against it. The cold is relaxing and soothing for a second before I hear footsteps in the distance. The footsteps sound like heavy boots smacking against the stone, each step punctuated by the next until a figure stops outside my cell. It’s the same hooded man from outside the church, red eyes and all. Except for this time, he doesn’t have any swords in his hands, and he is even creepier as he just stands there.
Maybe I was right about the basement thing after all.
“No messing around, or I will be forced to cuff you. The court is waiting for your presence,” he remarks, and I realise he isn’t the same person from outside the church. This man has an American accent, almost like he is from Tennessee, I suspect. Accents aren’t my strong suit though, so he could be from any state. Handcuffs and a basement...yep, I’ve been captured for some cult. That is the only logical explanation. I need to get the hell out of here.
“What’s your name?” I ask him.
“I am a guard of hell. We are referred to as Hellers,” he tells me as he gets a massive key ring out of his cloak and flips through the keys, the sound of my breathing and the keys banging against each other is the only sound in this place. It’s so silent, even the sound of the dripping water is gone now. The Heller finds the right key and pushes it into the lock, clicking it open. The moment it clicks, a wave of red energy flashes across the door, and I step back.
“What was that?” I ask, my hands shaking ever so briefly because it’s easy to believe the Hellers I’ve met are wrong about magic and demons and all that. But seeing it? That is something else.
That was magic.
“It’s a demon lock,” he replies, not really answering my question because I don’t know what a demon lock is.
“Demons are real...” I whisper. For a second, all I want to do is laugh as I start to believe the madness. But then it really sinks into my head that this is all real. My parents are demons, and so am I. Why would they never tell me? It doesn’t make any sense.
“Yes. Did you think everyone was lying to you?” he asks. I suspect he is smirking at me from under that hood. “Now walk.” He points down the corridor, and I carefully walk past him, keeping his eyes locked on mine. He is looking at me so intently that he doesn’t notice as I wrap my hand around the keys and swiftly yank them out of his hand. Curling my other fist and lift it, punching him right in the chest, and his gasp followed by him collapsing means I hit the diaphragm like I wanted to. I lean down and wrap my hands around his neck, putting enough pressure to force him to pass out before I let go and stand back up.
Not bothering to look around, knowing that if someone saw me, they would have stopped me by now. I grab the Heller’s feet and drag him into the cage before running outside and shutting the door, the lock automatically engaging. I run down the hallway, passing so many empty cages until I get to a corner. I peek around it, seeing it’s empty, and there is a door right at the very end. I run as fast as I can down to the door, but a voice makes me stop.
“Alexandria?” my dad’s voice drifts to me, and I sharply turn, seeing my dad in chains in the cell next to me. Blood pours down his face from deep cuts on his forehead, his hair is sweaty and pushed out of his eyes, and the shirt he was wearing when I last saw him is shredded, torn in dozens of places like claws ripped it apart.
“Dad!” I harshly call out, running to the cage and wrapping my hands around the bars, pushing myself as close as I can to my dad.
“What the fuck have they done to you? Where is Mum?”
“In another part of the prison, away from me, but that doesn’t matter right now. Listen to me carefully, Alexandria,” he tells me, his voice so tired and weak that it breaks something in me to hear my dad like that.
“What do you mean, it doesn’t matter where Mum is? Have you lost your mind, Dad?” I exclaim, shaking my head. “I have the keys; I will get you out, then we can find Mum,” I mutter, stepping to the door and trying one of the keys in the lock. When it won’t turn, I try the next one and the next one. Sweat trickles down the back of my neck the longer I stand here, the longer the keys don’t work.
“Alexandria, you must listen to me,” Dad desperately whispers, and I look up, seeing how much pain he is in and how much he is struggling to speak. There is no way I could carry him out of here, and I don’t think he could walk. Fuck. His eyes meet mine, and a sob catches in my throat. I remove the keys and rest my head on the bars, giving up.
“I’m listening, Dad,” I tell him.
“You’re a demon. It’s all true what they told you, and it’s all wrong what they told you about our family’s past,” he tells me. I struggle to reply to him; I struggle even to comprehend what he is telling me.
“Demon...why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, but I don’t even know if he hears me as his eyes are cast down to the floor.
“You don’t belong to either of them, you understand me? You are not theirs, and never let them tell you otherwise. Just survive, and it will all be okay,” he tells me, not making much sense at all. Maybe he is going delirious from the blood loss.
“I love you, Dad,” I say, just as I hear a thundering of footsteps coming from the other side of the door. I don’t look at the door, no matter how much I want to. I keep my eyes on my dad, knowing this might be the last time I see him for a long time.
“I love you too, my little girl. Remember, you don’t belong to anyone but yourself, and keep that mark on your hip a secret. No one must see it, understood?” he says, and I nod, not really understanding why a strange birthmark should be hidden, but again, he must be delirious.
“What are we, Dad? Why are they doing this to us?” I ask. “They said you ran away, but why?”
“We ran from not just the demons, but the angels too. We ran from them all, and no one can be trusted with you. I’m just sorry we somehow got caught,” he tells me, and the world-shaking revelation makes me freeze as the door slams open, and four Hellers run into the corridor. They grab me, pressing me against the bars as tears fall down my cheeks, and I try to remember every bit of my dad until they pull me away.
I’m not crying because they are hurting me or the fact my world has just been turned upside down. No, it’s because my dad is crying.
And my dad never cries.
Chapter 4
What in the Heller is Demon Academy?
The Hellers practically carry me down corridor after corridor, and I keep my eyes on the gray tiles at my feet. Every third tile has a pentagram symbol in silver pressed into the tile, and sometimes the pentagram has an arrow or star in the middle of it. Counting the pentagrams helps me block out the noises of people talking around us, the hushed whispers. It blocks out the metallic scent of blood on the Hellers that are holding me. It blocks out my pure, immense fear that I’m going to lose everything I’ve ever known and there is going to be no way to get any of it back. I know there are many people we pass, but I don’t want to look at them. I don’t want to see the faces of the people that aren’t going to help me. I need to make a game plan, a way to escape wherever I’m being taken and then make a second plan to get my parents out.
We suddenly come to a stop, and I look up for the first time, seeing giant double doors with a gold pentagram inlay. The wooden doors swing open, and I’m dragged into a pentagram-shaped room. I’m sensing a theme here. I briefly see the four people on seats in front of tall dark-wood podiums as I’m thrown onto the gray stone floor. I blink my eyes open seeing the glass ceiling above. It’s stained glass, showing an angel with bright white wings, and he is flying into a pit, away from the other angels. The pit has black creatures crawling out it, and there is nothing else but fire painted inside.
“Once upon our time, an angel fell into hell. He was the first and last fallen angel—Lucifer,” a man’s voice echoes around the room. I sit up to find the speaker, meeting the bright green eyes of a dark-skinned man to the left of me. His black hair is complicatedly braided, and he wears a blood-red suit. All of them wear red actually. The two women have formal dresses with high collars on, and the other man is wearing a matching suit to the one who spoke. “My name is Magnus Belcher, and I am the current leader of the demons. We understand you have had a difficult introduction into the world you belong to.”
“If by difficult you mean you beat up my dad and locked my parents and me up, then sure,” I reply, raising an eyebrow as he smiles.
“I have it on record your parents resisted arrest, and force was used for everyone’s safety,” he smoothly suggests. This one is a politician for sure.
“Safety?” I laugh, crossing my arms as he scowls at me. “Is this some sort of joke?”
“Did your parents make you aware of what you are or will be?” one of the women asks, leaning forward in her seat as her orange eyes find mine. “My name is Maureen Ward, and I did know your parents. We went to The Demon Academy together.”
“Demon Academy? What is that? A schoo—”
“She has no clue of her heritage; no wonder she reacted so badly to the Heller. What were Irene and Leo possibly thinking?” Maureen says in a hushed whisper, but I hear her, nonetheless. Magnus rubs his face before leaning back in his seat, his eyes watching me like a hawk watches a mouse it wants for dinner.
“This is very unusual. We cannot arrest this child for abandoning the cause when she does not know the cause,” Magnus replies. “It would be cold and a waste of good demon blood.”
“I feel there is only one option; she must be sent to Demon Academy until the formal trial of her parents,” Maureen suggests.
“I agree,” Magnus firmly replies, though he shares a look with Maureen that makes me nervous.
“Wait!” I shout, stepping forward, and they all look to me. I need to ask it. “Am I really a demon?”
“Yes, dear child. Your parents are full lower-class demons, but they ran away from our people after they killed five other demons. They killed higher demons who had families, who had children who needed them. The death penalty was issued to them, but it was too late as they ran. They also kept your birth a secret; we had no clue of your existence until very recently.”
“Peculiar to hide a lower-class demon. She is nothing special, so why hide her?” the other woman who hasn’t spoken yet says. Silence is the simple answer for her.
“The church hid your parents very well as churches are usually repellent of anyone with demon blood, but there are strange exceptions. We will be consulting the angels on this subject,” Magnus eventually says, speaking his thoughts out loud.
“If the angels hid them, that is war. It goes against our holy agreement,” Maureen points out. Good to know demons and angels have a holy agreement. I thought it would be called an unholy agreement but hey, what do I know?
“I doubt very much that the angels helped this family. They know it would be war, and why would they risk it for these people? They are of no importance,” Magnus replies. Ouch.
“They killed five very important people to us though,” Maureen whispers, but again this room echoes all sound. The other two people in the room are like statues, never moving or speaking—it’s so creepy. Maureen is so wrong. My parents would never kill anyone; they don’t do things like that.
“Leo claims to have a reason and witness, but he will only speak at the trial. I believe the angels should be invited to the trial,” Magnus suggests, ignoring me.
“Are angels real?” I ask.
“How very innocent and clueless you
are. I doubt Demon Academy will be a good place for you,” Magnus finally replies to me, and I really wish he hadn’t.
“Sometimes, the innocent and clueless can surprise us. I think there is more to Alexandria Cameron than first appears,” Maureen muses.
“Perhaps you are right,” Magnus says and smiles at me. “She did knock a Heller unconscious with no training. Maybe she will survive after all.”
“Then it is settled,” Maureen replies.
“When can I see my parents?” I ask.
“At the trial. No one is to visit them until then,” Magnus replies, and each of them stands up, looking like they are going to leave.
“Wait!” I shout, stepping forward and noticing the five Hellers in the room move a step closer when I do. I have no doubt they will take me down if I move again.
“You need to attend Demon Academy and follow the rules so that you do not lose control of your demon that is in your soul. We feel sorry for you, and that is the only reason you are being excused from attacking a Heller. If you break our rules again, then there will be no more second chances,” Maureen warns me.
“Good luck at Demon Academy, Miss Alexandria Cameron. We are forever watching.”
“This way, Miss Cameron,” a Heller says, coming to my side, and I know I have no choice but to walk away. Magnus’s words haunt me as I walk away with the Hellers, knowing I can’t do anything but play along for now.
Forever watching. What a load of crap.
They can watch as I save my family...somehow.
Chapter 5
The holy hot stranger has wings
I don’t see much other than busy corridors full of Hellers and random people as I walk away from the leaders of the demons. I briefly look around, catching the eyes of a normal looking guy who is carrying some books and wearing a sweater vest. But they aren’t humans, and that is what freaks me out the most. These demons all stare at me like I’m a light in a dark room, so I try to keep my head down, not meeting their gazes. Four Hellers surround me, keeping pace with mine as I follow the direction of the Heller that walks in front of me, his long black cloak dragging across the tiles. I can’t help but notice my outfit does not match the cloaks or smart clothing that everyone else is wearing. I definitely stand out and not in a good way. I look like a piece of trash in the middle of shining jewels, and everyone looks at me like I’m just that.