Daimonion (The Apocalypse Book 1)

by J. P. Jackson

  As I sat down, I noticed I was naked again.

  I hated that. My thin body had always been a source of personal embarrassment.

  But I also saw a little round opening in my gut, right below the ribcage. Torn flesh hung around the wound. The inside appeared black, leaking a thick substance that oozed and flowed, matting the hair on my belly. It didn’t hurt, though. If anything, it was numb. I stuck my finger into the squishy hole; quickly it became covered in the viscous and foul-smelling liquid. I pulled it out immediately when something from inside pricked my finger.

  Silvery spiny legs pushed out from inside of me.

  The legs flailed a little and then scampered back like a spider retreating into its webbed tunnel.

  I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. Whatever was in me had to come out; I flicked my hands in disgust.

  I glanced around the glen to make sure it really was my safe place.

  The green was still green, the river still ran, the squirrel wasn’t around, but that wasn’t too unusual. He wasn’t always around.

  Did it seem darker than normal?

  Ignoring the horrific sight of my stomach, I walked through the glen.

  The trees were still grandiose: thick and tough and endlessly tall. My gaze followed their towering spires all the way up, past the canopy and towards the sky, but the sky seemed too close. It was black and shiny, sparkling like the inside of a geode.

  Past the scarred and knotted trunks—ones that were so rough you could make faces out in the bark—was the same black, sparkly night sky.

  As I peered through the trees, I spied a crystalline wall tucked behind the first layer of the forest. I reached out to touch it, cautious and uncertain. Finally feeling brave enough, I ran my hands over the surface. My fingers found scales… No, it was lumpier than scales. It felt like a scab.

  I extended my hand with my fingers coursing over the wall’s bumpy surface. I followed it and ended up walking in a circle.

  I was completely domed in. Was this the protective circle I usually cast before I came to the safe place? Why hadn’t I seen or noticed this before? And if I was truly encased, where was the moonlight coming from?

  I retreated to my favourite rock, unsure of myself, my surroundings, or what I was even supposed to do next.

  I fidgeted, uneasy and hyperaware of the dim forest. The glen was very quiet.

  A sudden gust rustled the hair on my head. I shivered and hugged myself to retain warmth. I needed shelter.

  But I was tired, really tired, and sleep became more important than feeling unsafe or the fact that I was trapped in a scab of a dome with a silver spider having taken up residence in my gut. I needed to lie down and sleep.

  My droopy eyelids drifted to the bed of ferns. The leaf-littered floor felt dryer, and I laid myself down, the curve of the ground cradling my back.

  It was comfy. I reached out and grabbed a few large fern leaves from the forest floor and used them as a makeshift cover, a blanket of sorts. I gripped one very tight in my hand and then slept.

  SILENUS SAUNTERED UP to the black crystalline dome and peered inwards with a fist clenched. His eyes twinkled violet and that same maniacal grin spread across his face. He knew the boy was in there. It pleased him.

  As he unfurled his fist, a crushed monarch butterfly dropped from his hand. It landed on the forest floor by his scarred and chipped hoof.

  Wishes, after all, have a cost.

  Agreements

  DATI

  Alyx’s cocoon reminded me of shifting sand dunes. Little mounds would bubble up and then contract in on itself. The crystals tinkled when the pod expanded. The process would have been mesmerizing, perhaps even interesting, if it had not been Alyx trapped inside.

  I could not imagine what he went through mentally, being a hostage inside the pod. However, physically I was aware what the process entailed. Human flesh dissolves from the bones, and even the bones would shift and change, organs would rearrange themselves. Alyx was under construction. He would be reborn as a demon, one of my kin.

  I promised myself repeatedly…to protect Alyx. Whatever life I had ripped away from him, whatever chance there might have been for a productive human existence, I had to do everything within my power to guarantee he would have as close to that dynamic of existence in his new form.

  That was, of course, if he would have a new life. The corruption could just as easily wither his heart, trapping him inside the cocoon forever.

  I couldn’t think of that possibility. I just couldn’t go there.

  I had been perched beside Alyx’s pod for hours. I needed to move.

  Pushing myself up off the floor, mindful of my laceration, I wondered if my wounds were healing. I pulled up the fresh shirt, and as expected, the cut was clean and it wasn’t bleeding anymore. The surrounding skin was still angry and red and tender to the touch.

  Maybe some food would make me feel better.

  “I won’t be gone long,” I mumbled, knowing he would never have heard me.

  Loud snores rumbled from the spare room, reminding me of my other guest. Hemming’s wound would have been three times what mine was. At least he rested.

  I flicked on the kitchen light and grabbed the top pack of raw meat out of the fridge, tearing through the cellophane with a sharp fingernail. If I had been feeling better, the raw, bloody steak might have actually been enjoyable, but right now, it just seemed like another task I had to do.

  I sank my teeth into the cold raw flesh and ripped off a piece. Blood from the steak dripped onto my chin. I wiped it away with the back of my hand. Yuck. Cold. I never did like it cold. A minute in the microwave would be enough to take the chill off.

  I had just swallowed the last bite from one of the steaks in the packet when Jenae clattered through the front door, already yapping away.

  “No way! You got the door fixed! Way better. Where are you?”

  I was taking a large bite of the second slab when Jenae rounded the corner. The Shishi dogs immediately broke from their stone form to scamper at her heel. That really pissed me off; it had taken me the better part of seventy years to get those damn things trained, and within a day, she’d undone all of that work.

  “Oh. My. God. Do you have any idea how disgusting that is?” She gawked at me with a wide mouth and an I-did-not-just-see-that expression.

  “Do you mind? I have to eat too,” I said, somewhat annoyed, and tore off another hunk with my teeth. Jenae really could be an intolerable brat.

  “Go ahead, eat, but do you think you could cook it first?”

  “I can’t eat cooked flesh. It has to be raw.” I ripped off another bite. There! Have that. “Warm and freshly torn off the body would be better. Do you know how long I had to search to find a butcher who would cut this off a live animal? I can’t eat it if the flesh comes from a corpse,” I added the last part just to be an ass and gross her out some more.

  “Just please tell me that’s a beef steak. And fine, do whatever you need to do. I think I might have something that could help you and Hemming get better!” Her eyes widened with excitement, and she grinned eagerly. Perhaps it was a maniacal smile. I was not entirely certain either way.

  I had apprehensions that she would have found anything that would assist Hemming or me. That’s when I noticed the new clothes and the new outfit and the very full backpack.

  “Care to tell me how the rest of your trip went?”

  “Yeah, okay, so she was dead, and she was decaying, which really made the entire house stink, and there was black mold everywhere. It was gross, so I lit some incense—actually a lot of incense—and then looked around.” She ran her hands down her sides to indicate that she had scavenged some clothes along the way.

  “And then I found this book!” She unzipped her backpack and several things burst out, spilling onto the kitchen countertop.

  She held out a very large and ornately carved leather book. The hair on the back of my neck stood straight on end and my hands began to morph
into their black talons. I took a step back. I knew exactly what it was, and I didn’t want it in my house.

  “And look what it did!” She showed me little puncture wounds on the tips of her fingers, completely unaware of my reaction to her book. “It freakin’ bit me and drank my blood. Sick. But the book was blank when I first picked it up. Once it drank my blood…ta-da!” She flipped through hundreds of pages that clearly now had writings and inscriptions. Hesitantly and from a short distance, I peered at her opened tome.

  “We really need to find you someone who can teach you how to use that,” I said. I didn’t know much about grimoires, but I did know they were powerful witch instruments and not to be played with. I was quite sure Jenae wouldn’t understand the subtle implications or consequences of any of the spells in that book. Magic, of any sort, had a cost, and the price was nonnegotiable and usually less than clear about the amount owed.

  “And what about the clothes?” I asked. “Where did you get the money to buy them?”

  “Ha! See, you think I stole them. I didn’t. Well, not really. They were Mira’s! Can you believe the old woman would have had clothes this cool! It’s not like she’s going to need them.” She did a little turn, making the dress flare out as she spun. As much as I hated to admit it, the outfit was a Hell of a lot better than my tattered old sweats and T-shirt.

  “I’m going to check in on the others,” I said, backing out of the kitchen.

  “Okay. Is it okay if I use some stuff here in the kitchen? I want to mix up this stuff like it says to in the book so I can help heal you guys.” She appeared convinced that whatever she had found would work. I didn’t want to tell her I was already healing up rather nicely.

  “Yes, fine, just don’t do anything crazy and make sure you clean up when you’re done. Leave my kitchen in one piece.” And with that, I left her banging around in the kitchen, doing whatever it was she needed to do. It would keep her occupied and out of my hair for a while.

  I went down the hall to see Hemming. To my surprise, he was sitting up. He glanced from his cell phone as my presence hung in the doorway. His tired eyes were still deeply set in his head, but his handsome angular face was far more cognizant than it had been and his swarthy complexion was back.

  “Hi. Can I come in?”

  “Did you switch species? Do you require invitations to enter a room, Vampyre?” He bowed his head and arched an eyebrow, indicating his permission. Hemming’s voice was deep, but it had a lilt to it.

  I sat down on the end of the bed. “How are you doing?” I half expected a smart-ass response and was doubtful he would tell me the truth. I suppose it was the polite thing to say. Polite. That was funny. Since when were demons polite?

  “I’ll live, I think.” He inspected the makeshift bandages, tugging at a loose end that flapped uselessly. “This is some first aid mastery. Did you do this?”

  “Well, if I didn’t do it, Jenae was going to. And I’m not convinced that would have been any better.”

  “Hmmm, yes, thanks. Who is the sorority sister with the bad dye job anyways? We didn’t really get a lot of time to do the get-to-know-you parts.”

  “Well, if you’re up for a talk,” I said.

  “I can’t sleep anymore. Please, something to amuse me,” he said, arching an inquisitive eyebrow.

  “You remember the summons, and the…hmm…infection, for lack of a better term?”

  “What? You think I could forget Master’s latest rampage of terror, bloodletting, and mass destruction?” Hemming huffed.

  “Jenae sat beside me.”

  “I remember seeing her in that pink fuzzy sweater.” Hemming rolled his eyes.

  “That was her. So out of place and seemingly innocent, and she smelled…human.”

  “Exactly! How odd.”

  “Master instructed me to care for her, so she came here. I scared the Hell out of her, she scared the Hell out of me with a spell, and the Shishi have decided she’s better than I am.”

  “Ah, so she’s a witch. Never did trust them, spooky bunch and unpredictable. They like the icky things.” Hemming faked a gag, sticking out his tongue as if he was going to throw up.

  “Yes, agreed. Anyway, Jenae managed to kill the neighbour as well. Haven’t cleaned that mess up yet. From the look of the neighbour’s apartment, though, there was a lot of pills and liquor. I think the neighbour was a bit of a mess and that might buy us some time before anyone comes looking for her.” I glanced at Hemming to see if my comment had registered any reaction.

  It had been the wrong thing to say; pills and liquor and the neighbour being a mess. But I got no acknowledgement out of Hemming for sticking my foot in my mouth. After all, Hemming too had once been an alcohol-soaked mess.

  “Jenae has no recollection of what she’s done. The minute the spell got too intense, she blacked out and everything else happened on autopilot,” I continued on. Obviously my comment hadn’t offended Hemming.

  “Great. I’m bedridden in a house with an out-of-control witch and a D’Alae who acts like a Vampyre. Sounds like she needs to go back to her creator and learn a few things. This is fucked up, Dati.” Hemming grimaced deeply as he rearranged his sitting position.

  “When Jenae woke up as a witch, she found her creator dead. See, there’s another odd thing. She’s been surrounded by death and has killed more than one human in order to feed, and yet, she doesn’t seem bothered by it. She shows no remorse, or guilt—nothing! She killed and ate her sister and mother too,” I said, attempting to make sense of Jenae’s scatterbrain psyche. “There’s something just not quite right.”

  “Sociopathic? Or just plain dark like most of our ilk? Imagine that, Dati.” Hemming’s dry wit laced with sarcasm was meant to be funny. In reality, his statement was more than true.

  “Maybe. Or dissociative. I don’t know. I just don’t get it. Either way, she is in the same boat we are in, with these bugs in us. How many do you have left in you?” I asked.

  “I think three more. But I have to be honest, I’m not entirely sure. I passed out too during Master’s meeting. What about you? How many you got left?” he said, and pointed to my midsection.

  “Same, three more,” I said, “and I’m not looking forward to the other three coming out. I’m quite certain that there’s no way Jenae would survive this. First of all, she’s not demonic. She’s still human, just a witch. At least we heal fast.”

  “See, there you go again—being nice. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you were turning human. You’ve gotten soft over the years.” Hemming shook his head at me, as if he had raised a finger and waved it at me, scolding my behaviour. “If she’s a little crazy and can’t control her magic, then so what if she explodes in the process?”

  “Hemming, if she dies and doesn’t create her brood of witches, what do you think Master is going to do to all of us?” The retribution would be epic. He’d kill the lot of us.

  Hemming’s upper lip quirked into a sneer.

  “Hadn’t thought that far ahead.” Hemming dropped his head and shifted the blankets around him nervously, glancing at me from underneath his eyebrows. “But now that you mention ‘creating your own little brood,’ I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask: I need you to do something for me.”

  I peered at him, squinting, and then shrugged my shoulders. “What’s the need?”

  “Collect those pods of mine. I should be there playing mother hen to them. They will be ready within a couple of days.” Hemming grimaced again. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but do you think you could bring them here? Once they emerge, we’ll leave, and I’ll be out of your hair. But if I don’t get to them before they are ready, I could lose them, and if that happens, then we’re back in that same predicament with Master. If I can’t present Master with a little herd of Shape Shifters, he will kill me, potentially all of us, or worse.”

  “A Master irate with one of us is a Master irate with all of us. Even if I didn’t know you as I do, I’d still agree to help you. Tell
me where they are.”

  “Thanks.” Hemming seemed to relax, his body slouching slightly as if tense muscles were finally letting the stress wash away.

  “But I need to know,” I asked. “You know Master has that soul vial of mine hanging around his neck. There is no worse Hell for me—I’m living in Hell right now—but what does he have on you, Hemming? How are you bound to him? Why do any of us continue to put up with his barbaric treatment?” Hemming’s relaxed slouch shifted as he became uncomfortable with my questions. He turned ever so slightly away from me, and his gaze moved to the foot of the bed.

  As my train of thought continued, I pointed at Hemming’s midsection. “And what the Hell were you thinking, going out somewhere in public knowing that this might happen? Where did you go and what did you do that made three guys attack you?”

  Hemming, ashamed, turned his head and stared at the wall. Then he looked back at me with resignation. “We all have shadowy secrets, no? I’ve never told anyone.”

  “Then don’t,” I said.

  “No, it’s just that… I…well…there was this girl. You know, demon meets girl, demon loses girl…” Hemming picked up his cell. He tapped it a few times and then gave it to me. On the phone was a picture of a young male child. “This is my ‘Hell’. Somehow, Master knows I have a son. He sends me pictures of him every now and then, just to make sure I stay engaged in his tasks. ‘Dog with a bone,’ if you will.”

  “Does your son…?” I started, but Hemming cut me off.

  “My son knows nothing. He doesn’t know his four-legged father, but I send his mother money. She’s human, and all she knows is that I’m mixed up in things that may not be of a ‘legal nature’. So to keep her and the child safe, I steer clear. But apparently I peed on too many fire hydrants between them and me. Master has never said anything to me. He just sends me pictures of him, through the mail, through my phone, even through my dreams. So I toe the line, because I’m afraid of what he might do if I don’t. I don’t want my son involved or knowing about any of this. It’s bad enough that one of your kind might still find him and mark him.” Hemming pulled the comforter up around him. I think it was an attempt to hide everything he had just exposed.