Ascension (Demon's Grail Book 1)

by Amy Cross

  “No,” I reply, turning to her. “Everything you're saying is -”

  I pause suddenly, feeling a sharp pain in my head.

  “Oh,” she says with a grin, “has anyone ever told you that you're extra cute when you're learning the truth about your species?”

  “I don't know who you are,” I reply, feeling a sense of great anger building in my chest, “and I don't know why you chose me to be the focus for your sick games, but I really don't feel like standing around here while you come up with more of your ridiculous stories.”

  “You're getting angry,” she continues. “Good, that'll help open things up in that skull of yours. Oh, and you look even more like him right now.”

  Pushing past her, I feel her hand grab my arm. When I try to pull away, I find that her grip is far too strong.

  “You can't go back!” she hisses. “I've woken something in your mind now, Jonathan. Something that was stirring anyway, but I've given it the extra push it needed. If you think all of this can simply be put back into a box and ignored again, you're mistaken. The cracks are starting to show in your soul, the truth is breaking through, and once that process has started, it can't be stopped. Frankly, I'm amazed your petty little mind was able to stay ignorant for so long. You must have been so tense for so long. I almost admire you.”

  I open my mouth to argue with her, but I'm starting to feel a little breathless as a sense of doubt burns through my mind. It's as if my old self is being peeled back to reveal something much darker beneath, something fueled by the dreams that have plagued me all through my life.

  “Let it in,” Emilia whispers, leaning toward my ear from behind. “Face the truth about who you are. And what you are.” She kisses my neck. “You know it deep down. The vampire race -”

  “I am not a vampire!” I shout, turning and grabbing her by the shoulders before slamming her into the stone wall. “Stop saying that!”

  “That's good,” she says, as if she's enjoying my anger. “Come on, embrace the anger! More! Let it out! Don't worry, you can't hurt me, but it might be good for you to try!”

  “You're lucky I don't -” Stopping suddenly, I realize I was on the verge of threatening to kill her. Shocked, I let go of her shoulders and take a step back, before looking at my trembling hands. I swear, I almost feel as if I'm no longer myself.

  “You have all that power inside you,” Emilia continues. “All that anger, all that fury. Some of it comes from deeply ingrained race memories, but some of it comes from genetics, from who you are. After all, it's only natural that you inherited certain qualities from your parents. From what I've heard, Jonathan, your father was a little moody.”

  Shaking my head, I feel a ripple of something dark moving through my body. For a moment I feel as if it's fear, but then I realize the truth. It's power. For the first time in my life, I feel powerful.

  “You need to embrace this,” Emilia explains. “You also need to listen to me very carefully, because I am absolutely going to tell you what's going to happen.” She leans closer. “You're mine, Jonathan. I woke your true nature from your soul and I'm going to pick through your thoughts until I find what I'm looking for. You're all mine, and there's nothing you can do about that.” Slowly, she leans even closer, and finally she starts to kiss me.

  “No,” I whisper, pulling back.

  “No?” she replies with a frown.

  “Who are you?” I ask, suddenly feeling an overwhelming sense of disgust at her presence, as if something about her fills me with horror. “Are you like me?”

  “I'm nothing like you,” she continues. “I'm a survivor, and you're just a walking lump of meat that contains something I need.” She puts a hand on my shoulder, forcing me down onto my knees before taking my glasses and tossing them aside. “Don't worry, Jonathan, I'll try to make this as quick and painless as possible, although... Well, there's only so much I can do in that regard. Unfortunately, I think this process is going to be extremely painful for you, and I think it might take quite a long time.”

  Before I can react, I see a hint of movement on the other side of her dress, as if something is shifting in her belly. A moment later, something sharp pokes through and slices the fabric, and then several long, thick black extensions start to emerge, pulling the fabric aside even further until I see a slit in her belly being held open, revealing a dark core at its heart. Too shocked to move, I watch as the black legs uncurl and start to brush against the sides of my face, pulling me closer until some kind of foul-smelling liquid sprays against me. I try to pull away but it's too late; I cry out, but the liquid starts drying over my face like a kind of web, muffling my screams and filling my mouth until I can't breathe.

  “Sorry,” I hear Emilia saying from above. “If it makes you feel any better, I promise I'll enjoy your suffering immensely. That's just the kind of bitch I am.”

  Emilia

  Ten years ago

  “Ow!” Leanne gasps, flinching as she pulls her hand away.

  “Keep still!” I reply, unable to stifle a smile. She's such a goddamn wuss, and I grab her wrist firmly as I use the tweezers to work on the splinter. “It's not my fault you decided to try climbing that fence. I told you the wood looked rotten.”

  “Can't you just pull it out fast?”

  “I don't want to hurt you.”

  “But it'd be quicker.”

  “Just give me a moment.” With the head of the tweezers, I gently clasp the section of the splinter that's poking out from her skin. This would usually be an easy operation, but unfortunately the wood is so damp and rotten that the splinter keeps breaking apart whenever I try to pull. This time, however, I try lifting as I move the tweezers back, and I feel a hint of satisfaction as I slowly, carefully slide the splinter out of her body.

  “Ow!” she gasps again, pulling her hand away at the last moment.

  “Got it,” I reply, holding the tweezers up for her to see.

  “Thanks,” she mutters, rubbing the spot. “Do you think I need, like, disinfectant solution or something like that?”

  “Nah,” I tell her, leaning across the bed and setting the tweezers down, before turning and grabbing my laptop. “Well, maybe. I dunno. Maybe an infection would -”

  Suddenly there's a knocking sound nearby and I turn just as Elizabeth pushes the door open without waiting to be told it's okay.

  “Emilia -” she starts to say.

  “Can you knock properly?” I ask, sitting up as a frisson of agitation passes through my chest. “You're supposed to knock and wait, not knock and barge in!”

  “Have you girls had a fun afternoon?” she asks with a grin, as if she doesn't understand my concerns and doesn't care. God, I hate her more than words can explain.

  “Yes, thank you Mrs. Vaughn,” Leanne says politely. She always knows how to handle my dumb-ass foster mother, using a convincing smile to defuse any situation. “We did some reading for class and then we worked on our comic book.”

  “That's great,” Elizabeth replies, “but Emilia, Doctor Keller is here so I'm afraid you're going to have to come for your exam.”

  “Can't Leanne wait in here for me?” I ask, sighing as I climb off the bed.

  Elizabeth shakes her head.

  “Why not?” I continue. “She'll just -”

  “It's okay,” Leanne says, interrupting me as she slips her shoes on and heads over to the door. “I should get going anyway.”

  “No good will come of appeasing her,” I whisper, perhaps a touch melodramatically, even though I know Leanne's probably right. It's getting late, and I'm always tired after Doctor Keller's visits, too tired to work on the comic book or even to just sit around listening to music.

  “See you tomorrow,” Leanne replies with a smile, slipping through the door, “and good luck with the doc.”

  ***

  “Ease up the front of your shirt.”

  Sitting in the front room, I do as I'm told.

  “A little more.”

  Pulling the shirt
up a few inches further, I feel a shiver pass through my body as I watch his fingers moving closer to the slit that runs vertically up my belly. He's the only person I ever let see my disfigurement, but I'm still not used to the idea of being touched. Not after everything that I witnessed and heard at the orphanage.

  “Have you been suffering from any pain or discomfort?” he asks.

  I shake my head.

  “Any seepage?”

  “Seepage?” I frown. “What should be seeping?”

  “Nothing, that's the point.” He places his fingers on either side of the slit and starts to gently pull it open. “Just the usual examination, you understand. Let me know if it hurts, but I'm sure it won't.”

  I watch for a moment as he peers into the depths of my belly. I know what he's seeing, of course; even though he's told me several times that I mustn't go poking about in there, I had to get a compact mirror one time and take a look in the bathroom, and I saw... It was like a dark mass, something a little wet but also knobbly and with several distinct structures glistening inside my body. I want to ask him more questions, but I know he'd just fob me off. Ever since he first came to visit me, Doctor Keller has been telling me that it's not time yet for me to understand. I'm starting to think that's his way of telling me I'll never know the truth about myself. It'll always be 'not yet' or 'soon', never 'right now'.

  “Has anyone else looked at this?” he asks after a moment.

  I shake my head again.

  “Your adoptive parents... They haven't been asking questions?”

  “Are you kidding?” I reply, glancing at the door to make sure there's no sign of anyone interrupting us. “They just act like it's not there at all, so they can pretend I'm normal. Elizabeth makes me, like, tuck my shirts in all the time just in case there's even a slight chance anyone could see.”

  “It's better that way,” he continues. “Humans can be cruel.”

  “Humans?”

  He glances at me. “I meant people.”

  Pulling his hand away from the slit, which quickly closes, he grabs a clipboard and starts writing some notes. I crane my neck slightly, hoping to see what he's saying about me, but his handwriting is way too spidery for me to be able to make anything out. Still, he's writing a lot, adding to the already copious amounts he's noted down during his previous visits. Sometimes, I feel like he's writing an entire book about my condition. I certainly seem to be his only patient.

  “I've been having more nightmares,” I tell him after a moment.

  He continues to write, not even looking at me. “I'm not surprised.”

  “Not about the orphanage,” I continue, “about...” I pause for a moment, wondering whether I should tell him the truth. I haven't told anyone about the nightmares, not even Leanne, but I feel I should try to nudge Doctor Keller and maybe get him to open up. Once thing's certain, he definitely knows more about my 'condition' than he's letting on. “I've been having nightmares about some other place,” I tell him cautiously. “Like a place that doesn't exist, a kind of fantasy land. I've been drawing it too, based on my dreams.”

  At this, he turns to me. “Let me see.”

  “The drawings?” Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a piece of paper I folded earlier, having already anticipated mentioning this to him. “It's just crazy stuff, really,” I continue, “it doesn't make sense but... Well, it's really consistent, and it seems to be getting more vivid all the time. Sometimes I use the inspiration for the comics I draw, but usually I just keep the dreams to myself.”

  I unfold the drawing and show it to him, and I immediately see a flicker of recognition in his eyes. I kept telling myself I was wrong, that there was no way the nightmares were relevant, but now I'm not so sure.

  “Pretty freaky, huh?” I continue, turning the piece of paper to look at it again. It shows a large building, with gray rocks all around, and the building itself is a beautiful, ornate structure made out of thin lines of pure light. Or silk, maybe. Yeah, deep down, somehow I know it's silk. The drawing doesn't do the place justice, of course; I'm still learning to be a proper comic book artist, so all I can really get down on paper is an approximation, but it's enough to keep the image alive in my mind and to remind me of those dreams, the same ones that come to me night after night now. “Do you want to know the weirdest thing?” I ask, still staring at the picture. “Sometimes I feel like...”

  My voice trails off. Maybe I'm at risk of telling him too much.

  “You feel like what?” he asks.

  “Just... I feel like it's somehow connected to this.” Reaching down, I touch the slit on my belly. “Is that dumb?”

  He shakes his head.

  “But it can't be connected, can it?” I continue. “I mean, a dream is just a dream, it's a mess of firing neurons, it's like the brain's screen-saver while you're asleep. It doesn't mean anything.” I pause, waiting for him to agree with me. “It can't mean anything,” I add, with a hint of desperation in my voice. “It's not like I've ever seen a place like this in real life. No-one has.”

  “What else happens in these dreams?” he asks.

  “I'm always walking toward this building,” I explain. “It's more like a palace, really. When I get closer, I always notice something crawling next to me. It's a spider.” I allow myself a brief smile. “Silly, huh? I'm dreaming about this amazing, weird landscape, and the only thing my brain can think to put there is a boring, normal house-spider. You'd think there'd be dragons or something, right?” I want to say more, but I'm starting to feel embarrassed. I'm too old to be talking about stuff like this. I'm sixteen, not six.

  “Are there ever any people in your dream?” he asks after a moment.

  I shake my head.

  “And how do you feel, Emilia, when you see that palace? Do you feel as if, maybe, you've found your true home?”

  I can't help smiling.

  Why did I react like that?

  Staring at the drawing, I realize that he's right, that it feels exactly like home. For as long as I can remember, even way back when I was at the orphanage, I felt as if I never really belonged anywhere. I used to put that feeling down to my childhood and the fact that I never knew my real parents, and I told myself that everyone feels out of place to some extent, especially during their teenage years; now, however, I'm starting to wonder if there really is something different about me, something that marks me as separate from everyone else. Something that I feel in my heart, and that other girls feel when they look at me.

  My birth defect, for one thing, seems pretty goddamn unique.

  “Change comes,” Doctor Keller says once he's finished adding to his notes. “You can't hold it back, even if you wanted, so the only option is to embrace everything that happens. You're sixteen now, Emilia, and I've anticipated for quite a while that this is the age when you'll start to understand more about yourself.” He pauses, and when I look at him I can see real concern in his eyes, as if he's worried about me. “It might be painful,” he continues, “and confusing, and you might feel as if no-one around you can possibly understand.”

  “But everyone does understand, right?” I reply, forcing a faint smile. “I mean, that's what they always say, isn't it? That you feel alone even though everyone else has gone through it too?”

  “That might be the case for other girls,” he continues, “but for you...” He gets to his feet and starts slipping his hands into his black gloves. “I'm sorry, Emilia, but your situation really is a little different. I'm sorry there's no-one your age in whom you can confide. I can help, of course, but I'm an old man, so there's only so much I can do. Just remember that you have my phone number and you can call me any time of the day or night, and I think I'll come to see you next week rather than leaving it a month.”

  “So soon?” I pause, not really wanting him to visit so often. “I'm sure I'll be -”

  “And don't discuss this with your adoptive parents,” he adds, picking up his medical bag. “You must be aware, Emilia, that other people
in the world around you will not understand. I'm sorry to say this, but if your friends at school were to see your belly, they'd call you a monster. Humans... People can be so cruel.”

  “Not all of them.”

  “All of them,” he says firmly. “Trust me, I know. You must keep your fears to yourself and discuss them only with me, or you risk exposing yourself to great trauma. Do you understand?”

  I pause for a moment, before nodding.

  “Your parents knew this to be true,” he adds. “Your real parents, I mean.”

  Staring at him, I feel a flush of hope in my chest. “Did you know them?”

  He glances toward the door, as if to check that we can't be overheard, before turning back to me. “I knew them a long time ago, before the war. They made me promise to keep track of you, Emilia, and I have done that ever since. I'm afraid they...” He pauses, as if something about the story troubles him deeply. “On the day they went off to fight, they made me swear that I would look after you, and I have not let them down. I couldn't help them back then, all I could do was promise to take care of their only child, and I swear I will do that until the day I die. I'll never let anything bad happen to you, Emilia.”

  “But -”

  “Patience,” he adds, putting a finger to his lips as a faint smile crosses his face. “It's so nearly time for you to learn the truth, but you must be patient for just a little while longer. Can you do that?”

  I pause, before nodding even though my mind is bursting with a million questions.

  “I'll be back in a week,” he continues, “and then we'll see what stage you've reached. I think your progress might be rather...” He pauses. “Well,” he adds with a smile, reaching out and patting the top of my head as if I'm a child, “let us take one step at a time. I should go and speak to Mr. and Mrs. Vaughn, but don't worry, I won't tell them anything, I'll just make them feel like everything is fine. They're simple-minded creatures, so they'll positively embrace any lies I tell them so long as they can feel better at the end.” Turning, he heads to the door.