Demonspawn Academy: Trial Three

by Annabel Chase

  “Cassia and I live near a town that was destroyed by demonic forces,” Rafe said. “The structures were toppled and the people were killed by what seems like fire.”

  “But they were perfectly encased in ash,” I added. “They appear to have died in the position they were in—pushing a stroller, shopping. Their lives just stopped.”

  The Great Marquis curled his upper lip. “And why do I think that ‘ash’ is the relevant word in that sentence?”

  “We understand you’re owed a debt…” Rafe began.

  He slammed his clawed fist on the desk. “Damn right I am and I intend to claim the seventh throne as my own.”

  “How?” I asked. “The royals in Dominion clearly aren’t making good on the bargain their ancestor made with you, so how do you intend to make it happen?”

  The door opened again and Henlo peeked into the office. “My lord, my humblest apologies, but the martyr demons need to reschedule…”

  “I’m in the middle of something, Henlo. Please wait.” The Great Marquis rubbed the end of his beak. “The seraphim will eventually see the light. That throne belongs to me.”

  “It’s been how many centuries?” Rafe asked. “Maybe you got impatient and did something drastic to get their attention.”

  The demon snapped to attention. “You’ve come here to accuse me of genocide?” His feathers puffed.

  “Does one town qualify as genocide, my lord?” Henlo asked.

  “Get out, you incompetent fool!” the phenex demon roared. His feathered skin began to crack and peel and I exchanged an anxious look with Rafe.

  “My lord, mind the carpet,” Henlo said. “You told me you never wanted to replace it…”

  The phenex demon shifted his fiery gaze to the floor where a burgundy and gold threaded carpet rested beneath us. “My feathers are too ruffled. I’ll have to take my chances.”

  “My lord, no,” Henlo said, but it was too late.

  Flames erupted and the assistant slammed the door closed, leaving us inside the room with the angry demon. Thanks for that, Henlo.

  “I think you need to calm down,” Rafe said.

  Uh oh. I turned to the Watcher. “Rafe, no one in history has ever calmed down by being told to calm down.”

  “Did you learn that at the academy?” He eyed the demon. “Un-ignite, Lord Renato. We’re not here to fight you. Only to get answers.”

  “Unless he’s guilty,” I said. “Then we should probably fight him.”

  The Great Marquis rolled back his chair and went airborne in full phoenix mode. Illuminated by fire, his brilliant orange wings extended from one end of the room to the other.

  “The only thing I am guilty of is inhospitable behavior,” he seethed. “You don’t deserve my assistance, you horrid creatures.” He aimed an outstretched wing at me and Rafe sprang into action, launching himself at the flaming demon.

  “Are you nuts?” I screamed, jumping to my feet. What was he hoping to accomplish aside from burning to death? Rafe was one of the nephilim. He didn’t have immunity to fire.

  But I did.

  I jumped onto the desk and dove across the room. Heat washed over me as I latched onto the demon and tried to push Rafe aside. The sharp scent of burning feathers filled my nostrils and I resisted the urge to gag. The Great Marquis was in his full phoenix form now. His beak snapped at me as I pried Rafe off the demon’s body and he dropped to the floor, landing hard behind the desk on the floor. I couldn’t tend to his injuries now. Not until I took care of the Great Marquis and his flaring temper.

  I didn’t want to fight him, so I tried another tactic. I flew to the wall and began pulling down the mounted heads.

  “Stop,” he shrieked. “Do you know how difficult it is to line them up precisely?”

  I held a threatening hand over the next head. “Douse your flames and I’ll stop.”

  The Great Marquis hesitated a moment before floating to the floor and returning to his regular form. He leaned against the wall, seemingly out of breath. “Wonderful. You’ve triggered my asthma.”

  I ignored him and hurried to Rafe. “Are you okay?” I kneeled beside him and smoothed back his hair.

  He struggled to sit up. “I’ll be fine…Just need time.” His healing abilities were one of his main strengths, which came in handy in a fight like this one.

  “Why did you do that?” I asked. As much as I wanted to smack him, I didn’t want to aggravate his injuries.

  “Instinct,” he rasped. “Bad guy lights up. Good guy extinguishes him.”

  “You have primitive thoughts when you’re under strain.” I tried to make it sound like a joke, but my expression didn’t cooperate.

  He rolled onto his side. “And Lord Renato isn’t our bad guy, is he?”

  “I can hear you, you know,” the Great Marquis said through ragged breaths.

  “I don’t think he is.” I hated to admit it because it meant we’d risked our lives and were still back at square one. “Can I do anything for you?”

  Rafe perked up. “Hold that thought until I’m better.”

  “You choose now to flirt with me?” Now I really wanted to smack him.

  “I’d choose to flirt with you every minute of every day if I could get away with it, but that’s not the world we live in.” He winced as he coughed. “Maybe when the crisis has been averted.”

  I examined his body. Although most of the skin seemed to be healing, patches of angry burns remained. “I need to try to move you so we can get out of here. Where can I touch you?”

  His grin broadened. “By the gods, I really hope this crisis is averted soon.”

  “Oh, Rafe.” I longed to curl up beside him and rest together until he was completely healed, but right now that decision would get us both killed.

  The sound of thundering footsteps in the distance made my heart jump. Reinforcements were on the way. I had to make a move.

  “Go on,” Rafe urged softly. “Do what you need to do. I can take it.”

  “I don’t want your skin to peel off,” I said.

  “It’s not a regular burn, remember? Phenex flames probably impact the body differently.”

  I wasn’t convinced. “Your feathers are healing the fastest,” I said. If they hurried, maybe he could fly himself to the portal so that I could focus on our defense.

  The door flew open and demons appeared with spears. Henlo pushed his way to the front. “My lord, I alerted the guards.” He frowned when he spotted us on the floor.

  The Great Marquis waved him off. “It’s fine, Henlo. My guests were just leaving.”

  I gaped at him. “You’re letting us go?”

  “I have my ascendancy to think of,” he said. He returned to his seat and began straightening papers on his desk. “I cannot be seen to brutalize the nephilim. It could jeopardize my future.”

  This demon was insane if he believed the seraphim would ever let him sit on a royal throne in Dominion, no matter what bargain he’d allegedly struck. Fortunately, it wasn’t my problem.

  I helped Rafe to his feet. Already I could see the wounds fading. Thank the gods for seraph blood.

  “It couldn’t have been a phenex demon, you know,” the Great Marquis said. “You said that the victims were covered in ash. If it had been a phenex demon, then you wouldn’t have been able to see them without breaking open the ash cocoon.”

  “We’re sorry to have inconvenienced you,” I said.

  He held up a claw. “There’s another reason as well. My flames aren’t destructive. They’re restorative. The victims might have died initially, but they would have risen again.” He arched an eyebrow. “Have they risen?”

  The thought of an entire town rising from the ashes wasn’t appealing. It would be like a zombie apocalypse.

  “Why is Rafe not in an ash cocoon now?” I asked.

  “Because he didn’t die, of course,” the Great Marquis replied. “He didn’t require rebirth.”

  “Why did you give the king a vial of your blood to secure
the seventh throne if it’s your flames that are magical?” I asked.

  “Because my blood is a poison to others,” he said. “The king didn’t want the vial for his own use. He wanted it for protection, to use against his enemies. It’s incredibly potent.” He scowled at Rafe. “You’re fortunate you didn’t ingest any of mine.”

  “He couldn’t drink the blood and be reborn?” I asked.

  “Not unless he endured the flaming hug afterward that your companion just enjoyed.” The Great Marquis winked. “No charge for that, by the way.”

  Rafe dusted himself off. “Your generosity is noted.”

  The Great Marquis leaned forward. “Perhaps you’ll put in a good word with your overlords in Dominion?”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Rafe said.

  “Splendid.” The demon looked at his entourage. “Please escort my visitors out. Henlo, I’ll need you to clean up the heads off the floor and I’ll need my herbal shake before my next appointment. You know how hangry transformation makes me.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Henlo bowed and moved aside to let us pass. “It was a pleasure meeting you both.”

  The demons with spears walked alongside us without speaking. Rafe took my hand. “Well, this wasn’t the way I expected things to go at all,” he said.

  “Speaking of hangry,” I said, “I could really go for a cheesesteak when we get back to the city.”

  He laughed. “I’ll let you order. I have a feeling I’ll be passed out the second my body hits the bed. All this healing takes a toll.”

  As we continued to walk, I huddled closer to him and tucked my wing forward so that his wing could wrap around me.

  The demon guards stopped walking when we reached the exit. “What’s that like?” one of them asked.

  “Healing powers?” Rafe asked, slowing his pace.

  “No,” the demon said, wearing a wistful expression. “Love.”

  I cast a sidelong glance at Rafe, who simply smiled. “Take care, fellas,” the Watcher said, as we closed the door on our only lead.

  Chapter Seven

  I had a hard time focusing on Elder Bahaira’s lesson the next day. My thoughts kept returning to the Nether and Rafe’s brush with death. While I understood the need for these lessons—that the Elders were using these remaining moments to prepare us for our independent lives—they seemed insignificant in comparison to outside events.

  “Cassia, I realize that you have healing abilities and all sorts of other blessings, but that doesn’t make you impervious to diseases.” Elder Bahaira stopped writing on the board and turned toward us with her hands clasped in front of her.

  It took a moment to register that she was addressing me. “I’m sorry. Is it scurvy?”

  The others laughed. “We’re not playing disease bingo,” Sage said, “although that would be way more entertaining.”

  “What are we playing then?” I asked, completely sincere.

  Rylan stifled another laugh. “We’re learning about very serious diseases and the symptoms to watch out for.”

  Elder Bahaira tapped the board behind her. “It’s tricky, you see, because you’re all different types of demons and that means you’re susceptible to different sicknesses.”

  “Well, there are only five of us,” Zeph said. “You’ll have a challenge when Spire 6 gets to this age.” Spire 6 currently had the most cambions at twelve.

  “This is boring,” Sage complained. “Can’t we go to the armory?”

  Elder Bahaira stepped closer to the rakshasa demon. “You are far more likely to die of disease than in battle. You do realize that, don’t you? Human doctors won’t recognize your symptoms. If you choose to stay in their world, it’s imperative that you learn about them for yourselves.”

  “There are healers for our kind in the mortal realm,” Sage said. “If I feel unwell, I’ll visit one of them instead.” She shoved back her chair. “Now, let’s go spar.”

  Elder Bahaira swept her foot under the back of Sage’s chair, causing the chair to tip backward. “You will do no such thing, young lady.”

  Barris snickered. “That’s probably the first time Sage has ever been called that.”

  Sage stared at him from her place on the floor, her dark eyes blazing. “I don’t think we’ve had a lesson in healing broken bones, have we?”

  Barris edged his chair away from her.

  “What’s the point of sparring or identifying deadly symptoms when a demon can simply fly overhead and level my entire neighborhood in the middle of my Pilates class?” Rylan’s head flopped onto the desk. “This all seems pointless.”

  “Since when do you do Pilates?” Zeph asked.

  Rylan rolled her eyes as she turned her head away from him.

  “I understand what you’re saying, Rylan,” Elder Bahaira said, “but surely you can see the value in this knowledge. If you’re fortunate enough to avoid death by demon, then do you really want to succumb to a curable disease simply because you couldn’t be bothered to study the symptoms?”

  Rylan raised her head. “I’m half succubus. I think it’s pretty obvious which diseases I need to be aware of.”

  Elder Bahaira’s features were etched with concern. “Why would you say such a thing? You’re not your mother, Rylan. Not even close.” Rylan’s mother was a succubus who’d deposited multiple children at the academy over the years. Rylan was the eldest, so she often checked on her younger half siblings in the lower spires.

  Sage waved her hand in the air. “What about non-weapon weapons? Can we talk about those?”

  Rylan pulled a face. “What does that even mean?”

  Zeph perked up. “How about dragons? Can we talk about those? I learned cool stuff yesterday.” He looked at me. “Sorry the volcano dragon didn’t pan out.” He’d informed me at breakfast that the dragon left a telltale trail of orange goo when it attacked, which New Hope clearly didn’t have.

  “What about Cassia’s fire powers or her cyclops energy?” Sage asked. “Can we talk about that?”

  I touched the invisible spot on my forehead. “I don’t have cyclops energy.”

  Sage flicked a dismissive finger. “Whatever. You understood the reference.”

  Elder Bahaira seemed torn between not wanting to make an example of me and wanting to appease Sage’s curiosity. I decided to put her out of her misery and raised my hand.

  “We can talk about my non-weapon weapons if you want,” I said.

  “I was really interested in these diseases,” Barris said.

  “I can think of a few places where you can learn about them firsthand,” Sage said.

  Elder Bahaira’s shoulders sagged with relief. “That’s generous of you, Cassia. Don’t feel pressured.”

  “You all know I have these crazy powers,” I said. “Seems silly not to take the opportunity to examine them more closely.”

  “Can you demonstrate them?” Zeph asked. “You know, to help with the lesson. I’m a visual learner.”

  “That explains the picture books,” Rylan muttered.

  Elder Bahaira’s eyes turned to slits. “I do not believe for one second that a display of her power is required in order for you to understand…”

  I rose to my feet. “I’ll do it.”

  “Are you certain you’re up to it?” the Elder asked. I knew what she was thinking—that I might still be recovering from my recent interaction with the phenex demon. Rafe bore the brunt of that altercation though. I was fine. We both were, actually.

  “I need a target,” I said. “Probably best not to have actual friends within range.”

  Barris rubbed his hands together. “I can help with that.”

  “You are not going to transform into some kind of lesser demon,” Sage said heatedly. “She can still kill you if you’re in another form.”

  “Relax,” he said. “I’m not planning to go out there, although it’s sweet that you care.” He pinched her cheek and she jerked away.

  Elder Bahaira puckered her lips, hesitating. “Y
ou haven’t practiced simulations since last term, Barris.”

  The half djinni opened his palm and presented us with a glowing green ball. “All the more reason to let me have another crack at it. What harm can it do? We’ll all be a safe distance away.”

  “It’s for a good cause,” Sage chimed in. “We’ll all benefit.”

  The Elder glanced out the window as though in search of help from her colleagues. “I suppose we can fit it into today’s lesson.”

  “It’s way more important than disease symptoms,” Rylan said. “At the rate this realm is going, we’re more likely to be obliterated by something like dragon fire than some magical version of cancer.”

  “You can’t say magical and cancer in the same sentence,” Zeph said, knitting his thick eyebrows together. “That’s just wrong.”

  “Well, I can’t produce dragon fire,” I said, “but I have a few other tricks up my sleeve.”

  Barris tugged on his own sleeve. “As do I.”

  Barris and I headed for the hatch, while the rest of the class observed from the spire window. I flew to the empty space between the spires and hoped that Elder Sam didn’t happen to see my presence out here as an invitation to spar. I wasn’t planning to hold back against these simulations. I figured it would be a good chance for me to blow off steam and demonstrate my skills.

  “Ready,” I yelled.

  Barris released the glowing green ball and it floated toward me, exploding into a female demon with red, swollen eyes. All over her sinewy body, angry veins bulged. Her nails were razor sharp and curved like talons.

  “A pishacha demon,” I whispered to the wind. When I was younger, I referred to this one as a pistachio demon, much to Elder Sam’s amusement. He even bought me a bag of pistachios one year for Samhain as a joke.

  The demon fixed me with her red eyes and I felt a jolt of fear. He may not have practiced recently, but his simulations seemed genuine enough to me. Quickly, I mentally sorted through my knowledge of demonology. The lesser demon was flesh-eating and nocturnal, known to haunt cremation grounds. She’d be able to walk on air as part of the simulation, no need for wings.