Staked!

by Candace Wondrak

  I sighed. “I cannot guarantee her safety for the rest of her life. It would be impossible.”

  Max abruptly stood, shaking his head slightly as he said, “I’m not saying I want to leave the ranks of the Purifiers. I’m just starting to realize how hard it is, and I understand why Kass is leaving.” He disappeared into the kitchen.

  I ran a hand through my hair. Losing two Purifiers was not something I could put in my reports. Kass would have to see reason, and the moment she did, Max’s doubts would disappear. I prayed it would be the case.

  Of course, as I sat there contemplating this, I couldn’t help but recall my own doubts. Claire might’ve been a Morpher, but she hadn’t shown any of the aggression supposedly dominated the race. She could even handle seeing Crixis without turning, without snapping at anyone. It was proof not all of the Council’s data on various Demons was true. Some of it had to stem from researcher bias, but how much? How much of everything that I was taught wasn’t completely true?

  I buried my face in my hands after setting my phone aside. The Council wasn’t about to call. They were hours ahead of us, in the middle of their night. If they sent anyone to survey the damage, they wouldn’t come until sometime tomorrow, and by that time, it was very likely Crixis would already have found Michael.

  Michael.

  My stomach lurched, and I felt the urge to get sick. This entire ordeal truly messed me up, hadn’t it? Quite honestly, I couldn’t even imagine seeing him again, not after what he did. Surely, he would look different, guilty, somehow. He wouldn’t look the same—he’d look like a traitor, like a scoundrel and a liar.

  I knew it wouldn’t be the case. He’d probably look as he did before: a tad on the skinny side, messy dark hair, eyes that shone of kindness behind his thin-rimmed glasses. Was everything a lie? Was our relationship just one of convenience? Did he feel for me at all?

  A new, horrid thought crept into my brain. It was very possible and quite probable Michael didn’t love me. He could’ve faked it the entire time. Every touch, every kiss, all a lie. It was an awful thing to think.

  How could I have been so stupid? To feel broken because of the mistakes and traitorous actions of a man. My parents would be so very disappointed in me, and frankly, I was disappointed with myself. I was more than willing to give Michael every single part of me. I loved him with every ounce of me. If he faked it all, if he didn’t love me back, it was the worst pain of all.

  I wanted, as childish as it was, to cry.

  Chapter Nine - Crixis

  I roamed the town, having left Kass behind to ready the room. Their sparring room would make the perfect interrogation room. It may not have had metal bars, but it was a windowless, gloomy space full of training pads and wood walls, dark and dank. Just the right atmosphere to really shake anyone once they were tied up and otherwise incapacitated. I gave her little instruction, leaving most of it to her imagination. She’d probably drag a kitchen chair up to it, but what would she use for the restraints? Duct tape? Zip ties? Or maybe rope or belts? Belts made a good weapon for hitting.

  Of course, we didn’t need to torture Michael. I would be able to compel him to tell us the truth, but who was I to stop the girl’s fun? A Kass off the rails was a Kass that was very amusing. Whatever she wanted to do to him, I’d stand back and let her. I wouldn’t play the moral high ground. I hadn’t stood there for a long time.

  Once the darkness of night encased the city, I headed to the backyard, where the window had been smashed. Glass still sat in the grass, as far as eight feet away from the house. Gabriel had thrown him pretty far. I didn’t expect less, considering what he was. I was sure he could’ve thrown Michael much farther.

  I knelt on the grass, searching the glass pieces. My eyes grew accustomed to the darkness instantly, pupils expanding. Night vision was always useful, especially in situations like this. If he was thrown as hard as I pictured, it would not be so far-fetched some of these shards would have a bit of blood on them. Michael, in all odds, fell back, onto the glass on the grass. He would’ve had to roll or use his hands to get up so he could run away. Surely, at least one piece had cut into his flesh.

  My eyes scanned the glass shards, reflecting the full moon’s light. On the rightmost side of the mess, I finally spotted a jagged piece that did not reflect the silver light so fully because its clear surface was smudged with maroon.

  With careful fingers, I reached for the edge that was not marred by dried blood. It was a long time since I had to use Vexillion as a tracker. I’d called him forth on several occasions prior to this one, utterly transformed into him a few times, too. Though I fought it, I felt myself smile. It thrilled me, each time I thought about letting the beast loose.

  Vexillion was…a greater Demon the world had forgotten. He was powerful and strong, and he relished the chaos I created, reveled in it as much as I did. He was the reason I felt so compelled to make certain people’s lives a living hell.

  Listen to me. I spoke and thought of Vexillion as if he was a person, a separate entity inside me. Like he could take control of my body and I would take a back seat while he drove the car that was me.

  It wasn’t how it worked. Vexillion was not separate from me; I only thought of him as separate sometimes because it was easier that way. The truth was he was me, and I was him. We were one. When I went against Sephira’s orders, when I communed with Vexillion instead of destroying him, I accepted him into me. He made a blood promise I would never die, my power would be near unstoppable. At the time, I was more than excited to accept. I could gain the powers of any Demon, any living creature, just by drinking their blood.

  Vexillion was a chameleon of sorts, even though his picture was always that of a six-legged wolf. A very interesting and unique Demon; I instantly understood why Sephira feared him, and I’d decided without hesitation to use her fear to my advantage. Alas, even with Vexillion, I hadn’t been able to kill her. I was only able to tear her apart and scatter her across the globe. It had been good enough for me, until she woke.

  He was useful on so many occasions, and referring to him as if he were just a passenger in my body, in my head and my soul, made the years a little less lonely. I did not need companionship often, and when I did, it was readily available, regardless of the time period or whatever country I was in. My looks, I was told by countless of women, were appealing. Still, none of it mattered much to me. All those women, all those deaths and the chaos I’d brought everywhere I went; it didn’t matter. I didn’t care.

  But now, for some reason, thanks in part to Kass’s dear, sweet, angelic mother the care inside me flickered to life like a candle. I started to care again, started to feel things other than the urge to kill and maim and feed. It was a disgusting sensation, wanting to protect someone—and not just because the Devil-boy had a thing for her.

  I couldn’t get the wailing sounds of a newborn babe out of my head. It drove me crazy.

  “Vexillion,” I whispered to myself as I set the glass down on the grass, “let’s find this Michael and make him wish he hadn’t lifted a dagger to Kass.” Such a pathetic switch from my constant attempts on her life, a turn-around from tearing Koath’s throat open and letting him bleed out. Was this supposed to be some kind of repentance?

  I hated it.

  My other side was all too happy to emerge. My skin started to itch, my eyes rolling back. I worked to slip out of my shirt, quickly undoing my belt and tugging down my pants. Black hair grew on my arms, new muscles forming on my abdomen. I lurched forward, hunched, my size increasing. A tail sprouted, long and black, full of coarse, knife-like spines that looked like fur. My spin popped and reshaped itself, a snout growing on my face, my ears morphing with the shifting of my skull.

  The first few times I turned, it was agony. It hurt worse than anything, ten times more than being forced to be Sephira’s pet in and out of bed. Worse than the pain my heart felt when I ran back to my village and found the two loves of my life butchered like animals. Turning was no
t instinctual to me, not like it was for Morphers. They were born as they were, able to shift freely and instantly. My shift took work, time, and, until my mind grew used to it, a lot of pain.

  Once I was fully transformed, I stretched out. It was too long since I ran—truly ran—with abandon. I would be able to run on this night, run toward my prey. Michael. He had no idea what fresh doom was about to head his way. My many, massive legs pawed at the ground, strong and thick, my tail flicking back and forth as I lowered my snout to the glass. I took a deep breath through my nose, inhaling the scent.

  Blood always had such a familiar, enticing scent. One of the best scents of the earth.

  This blood, however, smelled wrong. Tainted. Used in rituals before. Once blood was given as a sacrifice for any sort of spell or worship, it was forever changed in ways only Demons could see. Or taste. Or, clearly, smell.

  Michael, Michael. What have you been getting into when no one’s looking?

  My upper lip curled; the closest I could get to a smile in this body. Claws flexing into the dirt, I took off, following the trail even though it was hours cold. For me, for Vexillion, no hunt was too old, no trail too cold. We were some of the best hunters out there, far better than human trackers and even better than the Morphers whose animal sides were wolves.

  The trail took me through the forest hugging the back of their house, which was, perhaps, good. Though it was after dark, there were still many humans out and about on this night. The hour of night was not so ungodly yet. My black, spiky fur blended in well with the forest around me as I leapt over fallen logs and dead trees. Michael hadn’t bled too much, but a drop here and there was more than enough. I could sniff him out of the entire continent, if I had to.

  Hopefully the trail wouldn’t be so long. With any luck, he’d be nearby, recouping and coming up with another plan involving Gabriel’s awakening. The boy did not need to be awakened any further. He was already teetering on the brink. I did wonder, though, what would happen if he did fully come into his powers, his old soul. Would he seek dominion over all? Would he try to end the world in hellfire?

  As long as I found Michael tonight, the world wouldn’t have to discover the answers to those questions. And I would find Michael tonight, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind. The only thing that remained to be seen was what I would do after finding him. Kass wanted him alive, which I was more than pleased to accommodate, but as for unharmed? She said nothing about not hurting him.

  Time blurred to me. In my wolf form, as Vexillion, I paid no heed to the passing moon above. I exited the forest on the other side of town, spotting a drop of blood on the sidewalk. A jogger ran by, and I waited until the area was clear before emerging from the woods and bounding through the city. My fur blended in well with the darkness; the sharp quill-like hair follicles shook as they took on a darker tone to better match the pavement I ran across.

  Over a playground, through a park, I ran for what felt like hours. In reality, it was a minute, maybe even less. Vexillion, and by extension me, we were fast. Almost the fastest thing in existence. Fast and efficient; I’d get the job done.

  My many legs halted on the corner of a dim street. Only one car sat at the nearby stoplight, a teenager who was too enthralled with her phone in her lap to notice the giant, six-legged wolf standing not even ten feet from her car. Her eyes darted as she read text messages and replied with wicked speed.

  Hmm. If thumb-speed was related to leg-speed, today’s teenagers would be nearly as fast as I was.

  As soon as the light turned green, a few moments passed before she stepped on the gas pedal. She did not stop texting. What an idiotic girl. But now wasn’t the time to judge others for their choices. I had someone to find, to catch and maybe rough up.

  After the car pulled away, I spotted an internet cafe across the street, its sign dim and a few letters of it broken. Tonight, judging from the propped-up sign on its outer brick wall, was poetry night. How fitting. Poetry always seemed to do death and betrayal a better justice than other types of versing.

  My upper lip curled, and I turned. Sharp hair retracted, claws retreating as they reshaped and reformed. My extra limbs shrunk out of existence, the snout on my face molding back into the skull as it shifted to its human shape. Once I was mostly hairless, I stood straight and tall, and also utterly naked. Nudity never bothered me, so I simply strolled across the street—jaywalking, too—enjoying the feeling of the wind running through my legs and other parts. Being naked was so freeing, so natural. I wasn’t sure why humans were against it so much.

  I rammed a fist to the door of the internet cafe, stepping inside to the stench of despair and desolation. Poets were always so depressed and lonely. It was just sad. I surveyed the place, overlooking the giggling girls and irritated boys.

  One of them, a poet, by the look of his long, wavy hair and oddly-chosen wardrobe, tried coming up to me, telling me this was a family establishment, that I would have to leave otherwise he would call the police.

  Grabbing him by the scruff of his shirt, I held his eyes and described Michael, demanding, “Have you seen him?”

  “Uh, yeah, man. Middle-aged dude? Went to the bathroom a few…”

  I flashed away before I could listen to the rest of his annoying gibberish. The manager or owner, or whoever was on duty behind the coffee counter, had a phone in her hands, already on the line with law enforcement. Such small fry didn’t deserve my attention. I flashed down the hall where the restrooms were, kicking open the door that said men’s.

  A single stall, and an open window that swayed with movement. Michael must’ve seen me across the street. Oh, well. He couldn’t have gotten too far.

  I was but a gust of wind as I exited the cafe, nearly knocking over the manager who had a can of mace in her shaking hands, the phone in her other. She stumbled back, her human eyes too slow to catch my movement. I flashed around the outside of the building, to a rather dark and ominous alley, stopping in front of a man who, as he stumbled to a halt in the alley, looked similar to a deer in headlights.

  He also looked terrible. A few cuts on his skin, a bandage on his palm. He held a dagger in one hand, his phone in the other. I rolled my eyes. What was with humans and their blasted phones? Like his phone would save him.

  “Michael,” I said, smirking. “You’ve looked better. How are you?”

  “Crixis. You’re working with them now?” Michael ignored my jab at his looks. He lifted the dagger—a plain hunk of metal, molded into the shape of a weapon. “Why? You of all people should understand what we are trying to do.”

  I cocked my head. I loved when humans, with their ridiculously short lives, sought to tell me what I should feel or think. They were always so wrong. “I am afraid I don’t understand.”

  “I’m not an idiot,” Michael spat, all traces of his English accent gone. Replacing it was…another I could not place. “I know you’ve been after Kass all this time. If I would’ve known I had him, I would’ve gladly let you kill her.”

  Shrugging, I said, “But here we are, on opposite sides. How strange things change.”

  “Take her, kill her, and go—”

  “Simply because I’m immortal doesn’t mean I’m not wishy-washy. I have been known to change my mind. And tonight, odd as it might seem to you humans blubbering about, I don’t feel like hurting her. I actually came here for her, for you.” I flashed him the same smile I flashed all my enemies: a pearly white, perfect, slightly insane grin. “She wants you to pay for what you’ve done, and I am looking forward to seeing what kind of torture the little Purifier is capable of.”

  Michael, to his credit, did not seek to run again. He lunged at me, shouting, “I will tell you nothing!”

  In a supernatural gust of wind, I easily outmaneuvered his feeble attack, swatting at his hand, which caused the dagger to drop and clang on the pavement below. My hand encircled his neck, lifting his feet off the ground, gripping his throat perhaps a bit too tight. What could I say? I liked it rough.<
br />
  “Oh contraire,” I spoke, quite amused at his antics. “You will tell us everything.”

  And he would; I’d make certain of it.

  Chapter Ten - Kass

  I sat on the chair I’d dragged up from the kitchen. It would be the chair Michael would get to know very well. My back was hunched, my hair tumbling toward the floor. The length was wavy and unruly; it was also the longest it’d been in years. When I stood straight, it easily fell halfway down my back. Having long hair while fighting Demons was a disaster waiting to happen. While Demons weren’t exactly known for their hair-pulling, it was still a risk I never really wanted to take.

  Now, though? Now I didn’t give a crap. I’d style my hair how I wanted to from now on. I’d let it grow for as long or as little as my heart desired. I was done trying to be something I didn’t want to be.

  Not long after Crixis left, I changed out of the clothes I wore day in, day out. My jeans were replaced by leather pants, my T-shirt traded for a black bralette. I had the stomach for it, the little squares on my abdomen proof of how hard I worked. I didn’t know why I never showed it off. Most of the girls I knew in school would love to have a body like mine; they just didn’t know how much work it was to keep.

  I wondered how long my abs would last after I turned in my Purifier badge.

  Hah. Badge. I never got a badge. I never got anything, besides weapons, and as far as I was concerned, almost half of the weapons in this house were mine, especially my rose blade, which sat leaning against the wall near the light switch. Birthday presents, Christmas presents. I was going to keep them. The Council, Liz—they didn’t deserve to keep any of them.

  Did I overreact when I told Liz I wanted to quit being a Purifier? Maybe. I had no idea what I’d do after, whether the Council would track me down, no matter where I went. Would I go to school? Get a job? How would I make it on my own? It didn’t matter right now, but it would in the future, assuming I lived through this thing. Everything was out to get me it seemed, so I wasn’t going to hold my breath. My mother hadn’t since appeared to me after I died and came back; I had a feeling that the next time I died, it would be the last time.