Personal Demons

by Phoebe Ravencraft

  When I looked, up my father was standing before me. He was dressed in the same grey suit, the same immaculate tie. But his face was besieged with worry, with exhaustion. He looked like a man thirty years older. Tears crowded his green eyes.

  “Cecily,” he said, and his voice sounded so far away. “Cecily, I’m so sorry.”

  “Dad?” I said. It was the first time I’d ever called him that. “Daddy?”

  “I’m so sorry, Cecily,” he replied. “I’ve led you astray. Forgive me.”

  I couldn’t understand what he was saying. What was he telling me? What was happening?

  He suddenly looked over his shoulder. I could see fear and frustration emanating off him in palpable waves.

  Then he vanished.

  My mouth fell open. What had happened? Where did he go?

  A light shone down from overhead. Soft and white and comforting, it illuminated the world just in front of me. The same little girl I’d seen in a previous dream materialized within it.

  She looked at me and smiled – that broad I-have-a-secret smile that only eight-year-olds can master.

  “Daddy’s being chased by two people he doesn’t know and a friend,” she said.

  She giggled. I cocked my head at her. Why was that so funny?

  The little girl kept laughing. Soon her guffaws were maniacal, crazed. She threw her head back and screamed.

  ***

  I sat bolt upright in bed. Devlin was screaming. I couldn’t tell if he was asleep or awake, but it scared the shit out of me.

  Reaching over, I put a hand to his shoulder and gently shook him. He came awake instantly, whirling towards me, his eyes crazed.

  “Alistair,” I said. “It’s okay.”

  He looked at me as though he didn’t know me, couldn’t figure out where he was.

  “You were dreaming,” I said. “It’s okay, you were dreaming.”

  I rubbed his arm as he stared at me, panting. A moment later, recognition passed across his face. He was back on Earth, back in our hotel in Des Moines. His shoulders sagged.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Go back to sleep.”

  He said nothing. He continued to stare at me. Whatever he’d seen in his dreams, whatever vision had terrified him, it still danced behind his irises, haunting him. I kissed his forehead.

  “It’s okay,” I said again. “Go back to sleep.”

  He looked me up and down, his gaze lingering on my bare breasts for a moment. Then he lay back down.

  “It’s not,” he said.

  Before I could ask him what that meant, he rolled over. I sighed. It was possible Alistair Devlin was more fucked up than I was, and that was saying something pretty big.

  I lay back down as well, spooning him and stroking his hair.

  “Just go back to sleep,” I whispered. “It’ll be okay.”

  I couldn’t tell if he passed out again or not. But he didn’t speak to me anymore that night. After a few minutes, I draped my arm over him and held him like a teddy bear. Not long after, I was gone too.

  ***

  The next morning, Devlin was acting weird. He shuffled around the hotel room in just his pants. I noticed for the first time he had tattoos on his back and upper arms. Both were of scary-ass demons. When he turned around, there were two more on his chest. One of them was a naked succubus. I laughed.

  “Gee, that’s sexy,” I said, piling on the snark.

  Devlin scowled and put his shirt on. I suddenly felt exposed – like maybe I wasn’t supposed to be nude in front of him. I pulled the sheet up reflexively.

  “I take it those are the four demons you’ve already caught?” I said.

  “They are.”

  He said nothing else. He sat down and pulled his boots on. Okay, this was awkward. Was he seriously that guy? The one who tried to sneak out of the apartment the morning after without even leaving a note? The guy who deleted his number from your phone so he could totally ghost you?

  What the fuck did he think happened last night? I mean, listen, I enjoyed fucking him. It felt good. I needed the release, and so, obviously, did he. But it wasn’t like I wanted to pick out China patterns with him. In fact, I didn’t want anything from him. He was just supposed to teach me to use my powers on our way to Denver to catch a demon. It was just casual sex!

  Pissed that he was acting like this, I rolled out of bed, grabbed my clothes, and went to the bathroom. I shut the door, locked it, and tried not to cry.

  Why the hell did men have to be like this? Why did they act all weird after they hooked up? It was like he was back in the sixteen hundreds and treating me like I was some sort of whore.

  Despite my best efforts, tears spilled down my cheeks as I looked at myself in the mirror. Staring at my naked body, I had no more shields. It was just me – slutty, stupid Sassy. I’d slept with this guy because I’d felt sorry for him, and he treated me like a prostitute.

  And wasn’t I? Less than a week ago, I was in a monogamous relationship with Felicia. I’d told her I loved her. And this was how I showed it? Running away and jumping into bed with a random guy, who wanted to forget the whole thing had happened?

  Of course, that wasn’t all. I’d kissed Ash at Dulac’s club. Sure, I’d told myself I’d had to do it to get a lead. But it had turned me on. I’d gotten wet, straddling Ash’s leg. If the bouncer hadn’t stopped us, pulled us apart for violating club rules …

  So, yeah, I was a great girlfriend. Ash may have had pheromones that interfered with my thinking, but I’d resisted him before. I could have done it again.

  But I didn’t. I kissed him. I’d been really turned on.

  And then I’d jumped into bed with Devlin because he told me a sob story about how living too long made you realize how much people suck. Shit, I could have told him that, and I’m only twenty-six.

  I was a total mess, a complete fuckup. I’d done Felicia a favor by leaving her. At least now she couldn’t be hurt by my generally shitty behavior.

  I had half a mind to leave Devlin here. I had plenty of money left. It wasn’t like I needed him to go anywhere. I’m sure Des Moines had a bus station. I could hop a Greyhound and be gone.

  But I had no idea where to go next. We were heading for Denver. When I got there, I’d have a shitload more options, including catching the Amtrak back to Chicago. Or wherever. Hell, I could take it out to the West Coast if I wanted.

  And I could stay long enough to help Devlin bind his demon or not. I’d figure that out when I got there.

  One thing was for sure, though: He wasn’t touching this again. I’d given him the best fuck of his miserable, three-and-a-half-century life, and he’d pissed on me afterward. Well, fuck him. I was done with that shit.

  I dressed, left the bathroom, and hit him with my best death-glare.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  ***

  We were back on the road twenty minutes later, rolling down I-80 West towards Omaha. Devlin had nothing to say. It was like he’d gone catatonic. He’d been stoic the whole time I’d known him, but this was different. He was closed off in a whole different way. He wouldn’t even look at me.

  I endured an hour of this crap as we traveled through Western Iowa. There was not a damned thing to look at. It was a collection of giant farms, dotted irregularly with barns, silos, and houses. Every so many miles would be a billboard. Half of them suggested I was going to Hell for believing in evolution or abortion.

  We weren’t the only vehicle on the road. There was plenty of traffic. Who knew so many people wanted to visit Omaha? Devlin slavishly obeyed the speed limit. Out here, where you could see halfway to the end of the Earth, everyone else was content to put on speed. I rolled my eyes at each passing car. Devlin took no notice.

  “All right,” I finally said. “This is bullshit. You need to talk to me.”

  He turned and stared at me as though I were some alien creature. The truck started drifting into the next lane.

  “Watch the road!” I shouted.

>   He turned his head forward and righted the vehicle. I shook my head.

  “What do you wish to talk about?” he asked.

  How about the fact that you’re treating me like shit? How about the fact you think I’m some sort of prostitute that you can fuck and toss aside? I’m a person, you piece of shit!

  But I didn’t say any of those things. Somehow, I knew that they would only confuse him. That he would have no idea what I was angry about.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Tell me how to kill a demon.”

  “You already know how to do that,” he commented.

  “That’s not what I mean,” I said.

  “You slew three githkeksis in Mt. Pleasant.”

  “Will you shut and listen for a second?” I said. “I’m not talking about killing brutes. Those insect dudes and the CarFax—”

  “Carthaax,” he corrected.

  “Whatever, Devlin! Those were all minion-level demons. You said so yourself. I’m talking about the real deal. I’ve never fought a major demon.

  “Well, actually that’s not true. The Guild of the Blade sent a demon after me—”

  “You were targeted by The Guild of the Blade?”

  “Yes, and—”

  “And you survived?”

  “Yes! I’m sitting here, aren’t I? The Guild sent a bigass demon after me. Seven-foot-tall motherfucker with giant horns, who could teleport among other things. But I didn’t kill him. His teammate accidentally took him out. She threw a knife at me. It missed and hit him in the brain.

  “And I’ve fought a succubus too, but she got away. I don’t know how to kill a major demon, and you’re telling me this guy is a prince in the Kingdom of Everything Must Die.

  “So what do I need to know, Devlin? You’re the legendary demon hunter. What do I need to do to kill this bastard?”

  “Killing a lord is the same as killing a minion.”

  “Bullshit,” I said. “Those insect fuckers weren’t smart enough to be lords. Aside from flying and fighting with two swords at once, they didn’t have any powers.”

  “Intelligence is the key difference,” Devlin said. “Lords are cunning, devilish, if you’ll excuse the phrase. A demonic lord sets traps. It looks for weakness. It will sow doubt in your mind and in your heart. After it has assessed you, studied you, explored your tendencies, it exploits what it knows. It turns you against yourself.”

  I nodded, though he wasn’t looking at me. That made sense. It was similar in Kenpo. We had all sorts of techniques to probe an opponent’s defenses. One of my favorites was called “broken rhythm.” You established a pattern – maybe it was the pace at which you were throwing punches; maybe it was always using the same combination. Then, when your opponent was used to it, ready to deal with it, you changed up what you were doing. You blew their expectations out of the water. It worked a lot. People tend not to do well with surprise.

  And it could work the other way too. Detect the other guy’s rhythm, crack the code on his pattern. Then counter it with something he isn’t expecting.

  So it didn’t surprise me that this was the essential difference between a demonic lord and a minion. Guile was what raised exceptional people over the herd. Most folks stayed in their lane. They followed the rules. They did, more or less, what they were told. Those who were willing to get outside that, those that were willing to try new or different things, they were the ones who tended to rise to the top. Innovation made people rich.

  “So how does that help me?” I asked. “I mean, I get that a lord is more cunning than a foot soldier, but how does knowing that make it possible to kill them?”

  “First, and most importantly, it teaches you to guard against being outwitted,” Devlin answered. “If you know you are being studied by a sinister opponent, then you know to expect more than a straightforward attack. Indeed, you expect his assault to come from another angle. There is no guarantee you will see it coming. It is possible to be outfoxed no matter how carefully you prepare. But if you know this about your opponent, you lay in more contingencies. You have a backup plan.

  “Second, you do not take such an opponent lightly. The overconfident often lose, because they think they are so much smarter, that the other person could not possibly foresee what they intend. You will not have this weakness.

  “And it leads to the third advantage. The higher a demon rises in the ranks of his Kingdom, the more convinced he becomes of his own genius. All demons suffer from hubris. And the high-ranking lords endure it greater than most. For after eons of tempting, corrupting, and outright killing those who stand in their way, they come to believe they are invincible. And any creature who believes that ceases to hide the chinks in their armor.”

  Yes, it was just like Smaug in The Hobbit. He was covered in jewels and tough scales no weapon could penetrate. But he had one missing scale over his heart. Bilbo Baggins noticed it but said nothing. He flattered the dragon’s ego. And it enabled the Men from Dale to exploit it and slay him.

  So, killing Akashareth would be the same. This dude was a Prince in the Kingdom of Abaddon. He thought his shit didn’t stink. But it did. I just had to figure out how to use that against him.

  “Cool,” I said.

  “In any case, Sarah, you won’t have to slay Akashareth. That task falls to me. I must bind him like I did his brethren. I need you to help me fight him, to keep him occupied so that I can cast my binding spell.”

  I turned and looked at him, incredulously. Was he serious?

  “What, so I’m your tethered goat? Is that it?”

  “No, not exactly, What I meant was—”

  His sentence died in his throat. He hunched down and looked up at something in the sky.

  “What?” I said.

  “Malefaxians,” he said. “Damn.”

  “Malla-what?”

  “Malefaxians. There. Seven of them.”

  He pointed forward and up. I followed his finger, hunching down so I could see higher up in the air. A flock of hawks or eagles or something circled the highway ahead.

  “Those birds?” I said.

  “Those are not birds,” he replied. “They are demons. And they are surely hunting us.”

  God damn it. Ephraim reared his ugly head again. The son of a bitch just would not give up, but he didn’t have the balls to come face me himself. I was seriously beginning to think I was jeopardizing Devlin’s mission at this point.

  “What do I need to know about them?” I asked.

  “They are small – roughly the size of birds of prey. They have arms and legs like a man. They spit fire, have sharp claws on their fingers and toes, and they seek to destroy. My guess is they will attack the vehicle to disable us. If we do not crash and die, they will then assault us personally.”

  “Shit. Can we outrun them?”

  “Too late.”

  He was right, they turned as one and divebombed us.

  Thirteen

  Three of the malicious fiends dropped onto the hood of the truck. Jesus, they were ugly – red-skinned like most demons, with large, black batwings that seemed twice as wide as the rest of the body, avian heads with bulbous, black eyes and long, sharp, black beaks. They had human arms, but their bodies were hunched, with short legs. Like Devlin had said, they had vicious-looking black claws on their fingers and toes, and the fifth toe on each foot was opposable.

  I barely had time to react in horror before two of the freaky bastards went to work trying to tear a hole in the metal hood. The third reached back and punched the glass right in front of me. It cracked on the first blow. Shit!

  “You’re filled with magic, right?” I asked Devlin, keeping my eye on the demon trying to break in the windshield.

  “Yes, why?”

  “Then power me up!”

  I put my hand on his shoulder.

  “No, don’t!” he cried.

  But I was already pulling his eldritch power into me. God, it was rich! This was some heavy shit he had!

  The malefax
ian punched the glass again. It spiderwebbed out in about twenty directions. I stabbed my window button. It rolled down quickly, and the wind roared in.

  Alive with Devlin’s magic, I snaked my arm outside and aimed my hand at the demon in front of me. Then I let loose with a hot blast of red death.

  The demon turned to ash and was swept away.

  “Hit the brakes!” I shouted, remembering how Ash had given me the same command when we were trying to get away from Dulac’s ranch.

  Devlin complied. The wheels screeched, and someone laid on the horn behind us. But the demons sailed forward. They’d been so focused on trying to rip up the metal, they hadn’t anchored in. One of them flew into the back of a truck, bounced off it, and landed in the road.

  “Gun it!” I shouted.

  But Devlin was ahead of me. He punched the accelerator, and we bounced briefly as we ran over the nasty little shit, squashing him.

  I searched for the other one. It had recovered and gone airborne. It arced around and came diving right for my open window. I grabbed my katana but struggled to unsheathe it in the tight confines of the cab.

  When I realized I wasn’t going to make it in time, I threw an elbow strike with my right arm. I connected with the hellish beast just above his beak and between his eyes. I felt and heard bone crunch. It was knocked back, and we sped away.

  Impossibly, that didn’t kill it. I watched it recover again in the sideview mirror, shaking its head and beating its wings furiously. It flew hard to match pace with us, then banked straight for me.

  “Get into the left lane!” I shouted.

  Once again, Devlin obeyed. That bought me the time to finally get my blade free of the sheath. I flipped it over and stabbed out the window just as the malefaxian came in for the kill. I got to see the oh-shit look on its face as it realized it was coming too fast stop.

  The katana caught it in the throat, and the fiend impaled itself length-wise along my blade. It went limp immediately, and my sword was nearly ripped out of my hands by the momentum of the truck. Holding on tightly to the handle, I sent a blast of magic into the blade, vaporizing the carcass.