They Bite: A Nyxia White Story (They Bite-A Nyxia White Story-Book 1)

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “For you, maybe,” I said, letting the anger seep into my words.

  “Not just for me, for any human.”

  “He’s my friend and he needs help. My help.”

  “He needs your help?” Rodrigo mocked. “Of course; I forgot, you stopped being human long ago, hybrid.” He turned to Gryn. “You know where the Room is. I’ll swing by once she fails to align with the weapon.”

  “I’ll align with it,” I said. “It’s meant for me.”

  “That’s what every Otherkin said, right before we carried out what was left of them,” Rodrigo answered. “Try not to kill yourself. My schedule is packed, and I don’t have time to clean up after you.”

  “You are a complete assh—”

  “I will inform you of her progress,” Gryn interrupted. “Thank you for your assistance, Sigilsmith.”

  Rodrigo stormed off.

  FIFTEEN

  We headed over to the door opposite the one Rodrigo used earlier.

  “You would do well to learn some diplomacy,” Gryn said, heading to the other door. “At the very least, work on being less antagonistic.”

  “I don’t do diplomacy,” I said. “I prefer to act from a position of strength. Diplomacy always seems like giving away your power. No, thanks.”

  “It only seems that way because you don’t know how to use it,” Gryn said, placing a hand on the surface of the door. “Being diplomatic is akin to being powerful, not powerless.”

  “That hasn’t been my experience,” I said. “The things I face only respect immediate, bone-crushing power.”

  “Only the truly powerful embrace diplomacy. Weakness resorts to immediate violence and shredding. Having a position of strength doesn’t mean you have to use it. It’s enough that your adversary knows you can use it, if need be.”

  “The potentiality of pain?” I asked. “It should be enough that they know I have claws. That way I don’t need to use them?”

  “Precisely.”

  “I’ll make sure to use diplomacy on the next demon I face,” I said. “Should go well.”

  The sigils on the door pulsed red for a few seconds and the door opened slightly.

  “After you,” Gryn said, holding the door open for me. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “You asking me that now?”

  “Just making certain,” Gryn said, stepping in behind me. “Once this door is closed, you either align to this”—he hefted the small box—“or I carry your body out of here. Yes or no?”

  “Yes,” I said, certain. “If I don’t do this, no one is going to help Acheron.”

  “If you do this, no one is going to help you. If you think they fear you now, just wait.”

  “They don’t fear me. They can’t stand me.”

  “Don’t be fooled, Claws. Their behavior is rooted in fear.”

  “The Seven are powerful,” I said, looking around at the empty room. “They only associate with me because it’s convenient for them.”

  “No one will associate with a Darkin,” Gryn said with a crooked smile. “Well, no one reputable.”

  “I can live with that,” I said. “Let’s get started.”

  “Very well,” Gryn said and turned to close the door behind him. “Live or die.”

  “Truth or lie.” I said, remembering the phrase reflexively.

  “First to strike.”

  “Last to yield.”

  “Strong when soft.”

  “Weak when hard,” I answered. “I can’t believe you still remember that.”

  Gryn nodded in approval.

  “Let’s see if you understand it now,” Gryn said as the door closed, “or if you’re still taking it literally.”

  He opened the small box as the light grew dimmer in the room. Sigils around the walls and floors flickered to life. I looked down at the box and saw a circular throwing weapon about a foot wide. The outer edge looked sharp enough to cut me from a distance.

  The center was a hollowed-out dual teardrop design, reminding me of a yin-yang symbol. The blade area was a thin band of metal about an inch wide, inscribed with indecipherable golden sigils.

  “What is that? A death frisbee?”

  “This is what will make you a Darkin, if you can control it.”

  “You sure it won’t just make me a warrior princess?”

  “Are you quite finished?” Gryn asked, irritated. “Pick it up. From the inside, please, if you want to keep your fingers attached. Be careful.”

  The metal was warm to the touch.

  “It’s warm,” I said, grabbing the center of the circle of metal. I grazed a finger along the edge, drawing blood as it cut into me. “Damn, this thing is sharp.”

  “You aren’t attuned to it yet,” Gryn said, stepping to the other side of the room. “That will change, if you attune to it.”

  “When I attune to it,” I corrected. “So what now? We play catch and try not to slice each other’s fingers off?”

  “Remember the phrase?”

  “You ingrained it into me, how could I forget?”

  “Good, you will need it now. Get ready.”

  “We’re standing in an empty room,” I said, glancing around. “What am I supposed to get ready for?”

  I turned to face him, but Gryn was gone.

  The room shimmered and transformed around me. Instead of an empty room, I was standing in a deserted street, complete with parked cars and buildings. I was about to call out Gryn’s name again when I heard the growl.

  “Another morsel to snack on,” a voice said from above me. “I’m certain the marrow of your bones will be sweet on my tongue.”

  “Not funny, Gryn,” I called out. “And for the record, gross and sort of pervy.”

  A crash, like a truck colliding with the street as it fell from orbit, enveloped me. Dust, debris and chunks of street kicked up into the air as something moved in the center of the devastation.

  “What the fu—?”

  “Hello, little morsel,” the voice came from inside the dust cloud. “I promise to end you quick. No pain, just death.”

  I took several steps back and bumped into Gryn who was leaning against a car.

  “Nice illusion,” I said as I kept moving back. “What is that thing?”

  “That is a Darkin, a real one,” Gryn said, pointing a finger. “It’s the beast of the weapon. Cute, isn’t it?”

  “Not exactly the word I was going for,” I said. “More like grotesque.”

  “It’s not an illusion,” Gryn said, his voice serious. “You beat it, you get to live and control the weapon. You lose, you die. Simple.”

  “Simple? That thing is the size of a truck. How am I supposed to beat it?”

  “Only one thing can hurt it,” Gryn said and pointed at my hand. “You have the means. Do you have the will? Use the phrase and good luck.”

  I was certain the Darkin was some kind of demon. It made a Minoras look harmless in comparison. It came from the same mold: six legs, scales for skin, enormous fangs to gore me with, and an evil intelligence lurking behind its glowing eyes.

  That was where the comparison ended. Saying that the Darkin was a demon like the Minoras, was like stating that great white sharks and guppies are fish. Technically correct, but a guppie won’t chomp on your bone marrow, while a great white could chew you in half.

  This was not some Dragondog, this was closer to a Dragondemon.

  I hefted the weapon in my hand. I still had no clue what to do with it. If I threw it, I would lose my only means to do damage. If I held onto it, and fought close-quarters, one blow from that thing meant catastrophic damage.

  Use the phrase.

  Live or die.

  I wasn’t dying here to this creature. I raced forward as it roared. Fear gripped my stomach as I closed the distance. I could swear I saw it smile as I charged at it.

  “Finally,” it rasped, “one worthy to die by my hand. Come, little one. Race to your death.”

  I pumped my legs harder and exten
ded the claws of one hand. Five feet from the creature I dropped into a slide, using my claws in the pavement as an anchor to change direction. I managed to slide next to the Darkin and open a gash in its side with the weapon.

  First to strike.

  It roared in anger, lashing out with a leg, connecting with my side. The force of the kick launched me into a wall. I impacted with enough force to see spots dancing in my vision. It turned to crush me into the wall.

  Truth or lie.

  The pain I currently felt was real. If this thing pounded on me, I was dead. I got my bearings and rolled away as it crashed into the building in an effort to turn me into paste.

  “Stand still and die, little one,” it said as it shook off the debris from the wall. “I’ll make this quick.”

  “No thanks, ugly,” I shot back as I tried to catch my breath. “Why don’t you roll over, like a good boy, so I can just end you?”

  The Darkin laughed and extended its tail, shaking it like a rattlesnake. It jingled, making a metallic sound, and I realized the top third of the tail consisted of metal circles of death, like the one I held in my hand.

  “Hey, no fair,” I said, leaping over the hood of a car as death donuts sliced through the air. “I only have one.”

  Some of the circles buried themselves in the car. The others bounced off the walls, nearly shredding me with the rebounds. I kept moving as more death circles filled the air. Rather than run away, I moved to close the distance. Next to the Darkin was the safest place to be, if I avoided the claws and fangs, that is.

  Last to yield.

  That’s when the solution came to me. It was a risk, but it was the only chance I had. Somehow, I needed to get close enough to its neck without getting shredded in the process. I needed to last long enough to yield.

  “Fine,” I yelled out from behind a car. “You win!”

  “You yield?” it roared, clearly disappointed. “Come and face your fate, coward!”

  I stepped out from behind the car and into the middle of the street.

  “There’s no way I can beat you,” I said and felt the weapon shift in my hand. The center had become disengaged and separated. I kept it as one piece as I stepped closer. “I don’t deserve to wield you.”

  It roared again, towering over me.

  “You will die with honor,” it said. “You have earned that much.”

  I stood in front of its massive head and looked into its eyes. It stared back intensely, and for a split-second I thought about running.

  I cowered instead, getting to my knees.

  It reared up on its hind legs, prepared to pounce on me.

  Strong when soft.

  The weapon separated in my hands with a burst of golden light. I shifted the weapon in my hands. I now held two half-circles, one in each hand. Demonflame covered the blades as the Darkin descended on me.

  Weak when hard.

  The Darkin was committed to its trajectory, and descended right onto the blades as I buried them into its neck—the only vulnerable spot I could think of. I lost my grip on the weapons as the Darkin thrashed away from me. As it rolled away, it whipped its tail around. I tried to dodge, but it was like trying to dodge a redwood. It was too large, too fast, and I was too slow.

  The tail slammed into me, launching me down the street. I bounced several times before rolling to a painful stop. I turned in time to see the Darkin go up in a massive fireball of demonflame, illuminating the entire street around me.

  Covered in flame, it walked slowly toward me.

  I staggered to my feet and extended my claws. If I was going to die here, I was going down swinging, causing as much damage as possible. It stepped close and bent its forelegs, kneeling in front of me. In its mouth, it held the weapon. The Darkin extended its head and offered me the weapon. It was covered in demonflame. I took it, but it didn’t feel hot. I felt the same slight warmth as before.

  “You have risen where others have fallen,” the Darkin said. “This is rightfully yours, as is my power. This weapon is forged in both fear and demonflame. Its edge will not cut you, nor will its flame burn you. In your hands and by your will, you have become Darkin.”

  The flames enveloping the weapon raced up my arms and engulfed me. A few seconds later, the weapon vanished. The Darkin crouched, still covered in flame, and jumped at me.

  The flames around my body absorbed it with a whump before they were extinguished.

  “As within, so without,” I heard the Darkin say. “As above, so below. It is done.”

  I stood on the empty street as everything shimmered around me. Gryn walked toward me with a smile on his face. I took a step in his direction as he started to tilt sideways. I was about to ask him why he was tilting that way, when I introduced my face to the floor of the Room.

  Everything blurred into a gray cloud after that.

  SIXTEEN

  “Where is it?” I heard Rodrigo demand. “Where did you put it?”

  I kept my eyes closed. I knew he wasn’t talking to me and I preferred to sit this one out.

  “You can stop pretending,” Gryn said. “We know you’re awake.”

  “I’m not awake,” I said as my body ached everywhere. “This is part of a nightmare I can’t escape.”

  “Where is the weapon?” Rodrigo asked, clearly not amused by my blazing wit. “What did you do with it?”

  “It’s in the Room, I’m guessing,” I said, looking around. “Right?”

  I was sitting in a large hospital bed. I knew the Vault contained emergency medical facilities; I just had never had the need to use them. It made sense having them on the premises. If something went wrong with an artifact, they wouldn’t have time to race to the nearest hospital, much less be able to explain that the patient was handling some ensorcelled artifact filled with arcane power.

  “Tell him what it said,” Gryn said. “At the end. What did you hear?”

  “It was hard to hear anything over the roaring flames,” I said. “I don’t really remember—”

  “Try,” Gryn coaxed. “Focus and recall the last words.”

  I closed my eyes and went back to my last moments facing the Darkin.

  “As within, so without,” I said, with my eyes still closed. “As above, so below. It is done.”

  “Impossible,” Rodrigo said with a look of shock and anger. “There’s no way you attuned with it. How?”

  “I suggest you go inform Victoria, while my student and I discuss her training,” Gryn said, glancing at me. “I’d hate for this nuke to go off and atomize the city. Don’t you agree?”

  “I can’t believe this,” Rodrigo said as he backed away. “Victoria is going to lose her shit.”

  Rodrigo left the room in a hurry.

  “What the hell is he scared of? It’s me.”

  “Precisely,” Gryn said with a smile. “It’s you.”

  “I need to go,” I said, sitting up and throwing my feet over the side of the bed. “Acheron.”

  “Not yet,” Gryn said, pushing me back into the bed as the world swayed. “Rodrigo is right about one thing: sending you out into the world with power and no training is a recipe for disaster. You need to be able to handle the Darkin first.”

  “Acheron. He’s in trouble.”

  “When you are ready, and I promise it will be soon,” Gryn answered, “I will help you get your demon back.”

  “Promise,” I said. “I need to…I need to…”

  “Yes, I know,” Gryn said, tracing a sigil in the air, as my vision tunneled and the grayness returned. “I promise. You’re going to need all of the help you can get.”

  “Thank…thank you, Gryn.”

  I couldn’t keep my eyes open and my body suddenly felt heavy.

  “Get some rest,” Gryn said, sounding far away. “The promise of pain awaits, Darkin.”

  THE END

  Author Notes

  Thank you for reading this story and jumping into the darker world of Nyxia & Acheron.

  This story was
great fun to write(seems to be a running theme with my books lol). I wanted to explore a world outside of M&S, led by a character considered an outsider.

  In walked Nyxia, gouging my desk with a few of her claws in greeting.

  I needed to give her an unconventional partner. Someone dangerous but unexpected. Considering that she works with an organization that deals with the supernatural in her world, the best partner for her was a being that represented everything The Seven stood against.

  Acheron politely knocked on the door and made himself comfortable. By the way, he informed me, he was a demon. Not just any demon, but a Demon Lord, yes, with the capitals.

  A very strange, but interesting partnership was created.

  This story differs from the M&S World by being darker and grittier. Nyxia pulls no punches when things need to get done. Her claws come out when you threaten her or those close to her. She has a tough exterior matched only by her tough core. She knows what it means to be an outcast and realizes she will never truly fit in.

  She’s good with that. It’s part of what makes Nyx, Nyx.

  She has plenty of growing to do. Nyx has a few anger issues to work through, and she needs to realize not everything can be resolved at the end of her claws. Most things, but not everything.

  The story of THEY BITE ended on this note. Nyx needs to get Acheron back, but she needs to get ready first. Gryn will teach her, but it will be difficult. She will have to face her own inner demons, and it won’t be pretty. There are entities that would prefer if she were dead.

  She will disagree…violently.

  Thank you so much for stepping into this world with me. I wanted to share Nyx for some time now, but I needed to find her voice. I think I managed to get her voice, along with Acheron’s, where I needed them to be in order to tell a good story.

  It’s not M&S (in case you haven’t noticed) the world is sharper, darker and dangerous. Nyx is not a hero and she would probably brandish her claws at you if you called her one. She would tell you she just does what needs doing. Things are going to get difficult for her and I invite you along for the adventure. We’ll discover what Otherkin are and where they come from. Who set her up and what exactly are the powers of a Darkin?