The number of demons pouring out of the ground in this somewhat unimportant area was surprising.
Veronica was in the middle of battling thirty demons alone, and for the first time in over a hundred years, she feared her life might end. She was an Immortal, but that didn’t mean she could not die.
She was safe from disease and aging. No natural cause could fell her. But a demon’s blade driven through her chest would mean death, as would any ordinary blade for that matter.
As she swirled about, slicing at the demons, leaping into the air when she feared the demons’ overwhelming numbers, before coming down to battle again, Veronica began to wonder how long she could keep this up.
The demons were dying in their dozens, but more seemed to pour out of the woods.
In the end, it was the local Legacies from Cornhill-on-Tweed that saved her, that sent the demons packing. The local Legacies and a small force of humans, women at that.
As an Immortal, the Legacies had to bow to her authority, which all three Legacies did. Veronica was under orders from the Queen to send all the Legacies to the capital. But on this occasion, she could not do that. The little town was important. It produced weapons they would need, even if at a small scale.
And more than that, the number of demons appearing here was larger than anything she had seen around the country. It made little sense, but Veronica rarely wasted time wondering why demons did what they did. No, that was for the strategists back at the capital.
She did know that taking away the Legacies from this town would be akin to handing the humans over to the demons.
So, she left the town behind and headed for Learmouth, a bigger town, and one that could afford to lend a few Legacies. She knew the master of the town. Kevin, a second-generation Legacy, he wasn’t her favourite Legacy in the world. A tricky one, she promised herself to teach the fucker a lesson if he tried anything with her.
* * *
Long before Learmouth came into view, Veronica knew something was horribly wrong. Large clouds of smoke hung in the air in the direction of the town. She rode fast, pushing her horse to its limit until the walls of the town came in view.
As did the army of demons that stood before it.
Some tried scaling the walls while others rammed away at the gate. There were humans on the wall, only just managing to keep the demons at bay. The gate would give way soon though, making their efforts valiant, but ultimately futile.
A single Immortal against an army of demons, there was little she could do to turn the tide. But that didn’t mean she was going to hang back.
Veronica stormed into battle, coming from behind, she cut a line through the demons, then leapt into the air and landed on the wall. Her sword a blur, she cleared her section of the wall of demons, then leaped onto the next part of the wall that had the most demons on it.
Battling away, killing the demons with her sword plunged into them, or sending them tumbling back down, Veronica cleared that part of the wall and paused to catch her breath.
And then she spotted him.
A demon that stood literally head and shoulders above every other demon and human. She estimated a height of about ten feet. He was one of those demons, the powerful ones that could grow in size.
And he was in the town, on the ground, cutting his way through the humans trying to stop him from opening the gates.
Veronica wasted no time in landing before him. He had one of those black blades, the ones that were allegedly made from human souls.
He was a strong demon, an angry demon. Each strike of his had cut through the human before him, splintering them in half, breaking through the armour some wore. And that was how he treated her, as if she were just another human.
It was his mistake.
Veronica easily glided away from his sword, moving in sharply, she struck at his knee, then his arm, before leaping over him, her sword held between her ribcage and arm, sticking out behind, she slammed it into his back, cutting through flesh and bone.
The demon roared in anger and pain.
Veronica turned and sliced his head off.
The battle turned after that.
From nowhere, hundreds of humans appeared, some carrying table legs, others carrying weapons that looked too big for them. As the front gate finally caved in, sending shards of wood splintering, as the demons charged, they were suddenly facing hundreds of humans.
Humans that were led by an Immortal and half a dozen of the town’s Legacies.
After an hour of battling, the demon horde began to thin, and realising they were on the losing side, many started to flee. Veronica and the Legacies cut down the remaining demons.
When it was finally over, Veronica sat down with her back against the wall.
As with every battle against the demons, the human casualties were high. The scene before her was one she had not seen in a hundred years of relative peace with the demons. The ground was piled with bodies, humans lay on top of demons, lay under demons.
There was crying at first, wailing. That gave way to subdued silence as the townsfolk began to clear the bodies, throwing the demons to one side as they collected their own.
And then, Veronica spotted something that took her by surprise.
And it wasn’t every day an Immortal was surprised.
A Hell Horse road down the main street, running towards her, towards the gate. Veronica jumped to her feet, alarmed.
And then, she spotted those riding on the Hell Horse.
A man and two women.
Judging by the way the girls were dressed, she took them to be Legacies. Though the man was dressed in jeans and a torn t-shirt, not the usual dress for male Legacies, she took him to be one too, on account of how tall he was, how powerful his body looked, and the fact that he was riding a Hell Horse.
She blinked as they approached her.
She had never seen a human ride a Hell Horse… She herself had never ridden on a Hell Horse, and she was a fucking Immortal.
The horse came to a stop beside her, and Veronica eyed it with caution. She had seen Hell Horses before, many times, but she still found them unnerving. Twice the size of ordinary horses, skin that was metallic, spikey fur, and the two heads with eyes that were one colour, be it black, white, red, they were simply balls of terror.
“We won,” the man said, as he jumped down from the horse. “Good stuff,” he muttered, as he now leaned against the horse, his thin t-shirt no barrier for his skin and the spikey fur. “You’re new,” he said to her.
“I’m Immortal Veronica,” she introduced herself. “And who might you be?”
“Martial the great,” he replied.
“I’ve not heard of you.”
“Same,” he said, not even a twitch of the lips, he added, “Never heard of you either.”
Veronica frowned. She was an Immortal… he was a Legacy. Why was he not being differential? “Where is Kevin?”
“Killed him.”
“So, you’re the new master of the town?”
“I suppose I am,” Martial said. “And what can I do for you?”
“I am here by order of Immortal Queen Margaret. All Legacies have been summoned to the capital.”
“I see,” Martial nodded. “And what if I were to decide I didn’t quite fancy the capital?”
“Excuse me?” Veronica asked, her tone hardening.
“Well, see,” Martial began, “The thing is-”
Veronica didn’t let him finish. She had seen enough. She slammed the hilt of her sword against his mouth. The Hell Horse he leaned against was startled and trotted away, the two Legacies still seated on it. Martial should have stumbled back and fallen to the ground. She’d hit him hard enough for that.
And he did stumble, but he remained on his feet.
“Bitch,” he growled, as he felt his lip and the blood that was there.
Veronica leapt forward and kicked him on the chin. This time, Martial did hit the ground. As she was about to kick him once more,
one of the Legacy’s, the girl with the blond hair, arrived out of nowhere and kicked her leg away.
Veronica was furious now. It was bad enough for one Legacy to disrespect her, but two? “Do you know who I am?” she asked through gritted teeth, her rage barely contained.
“You’re an Immortal,” the girl said. Her sword drawn, she swallowed nervously. “But my mind, body and soul belong to Martial.”
“And his belong to mine,” Veronica growled. “Step aside or die.”
The blond gripped her sword with both hands, hands that trembled. She was afraid, but she held her ground. Her loyalty would have been admirable if it hadn’t been an insult. All Legacies owed their minds, bodies and souls to Immortals.
“Suit yourself,” Veronica said.
But then, as she took a step forward, an arrow struck the ground an inch away from her toe. It was either a really good warning shot, or horribly aimed.
Veronica assumed it to be the former, considering it had been fired by the other Legacy. She stood now with another arrow nocked, this one pointed at Veronica’s chest.
“You’re both out of your minds,” she muttered.
“Maybe,” Martial said. He climbed to his feet and stood beside the blond Legacy. He kissed her on the lips, then gently lowered her sword. “But how fucking awesome are they?” he asked, as he slapped the blond’s ass, causing the girl to let out a grunt, followed by some wiggling of her bottom.
Martial now walked towards Veronica, unarmed. He was either a fucking idiot or… there was no or. He was a fucking idiot, she decided.
“You need to chill the fuck down, Veronica,” Martial said, now standing within range of her sword. “We’re both on the same side here, right?”
She could cut him with a single strike, so close was he, none of his girls would be able to do a thing about it.
But she didn’t.
There was something about Martial. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she had a feeling killing him might not be a great idea, what with war with the demons now an inevitability.
“Let’s start again, shall we?” Martial stuck his hand out, grinning.
He had a cute grin.
Veronica frowned.
Why was she thinking about his cute grin? Where had her rage gone? He had disrespected her. If not killed to set an example, he needed to be punished at the very least.
But wherever her rage had vanished to, the fact was, it had gone. She was no longer angry.
She took his hand and shook it tentatively.
“See, not so hard,” Martial said. “Now, why does Immortal Queen Margaret want all us Legacies to head for the capital?”
Author Comments
I would like to thank you very much for reading this book. Writing is my passion and without your support, I would not be able to pursue it. I would greatly appreciate if you could leave a review so that others will know if this story is worth investing in.
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If you enjoyed this book, and have yet to read The Devil’s Apprentice, keep turning to read the first chapter.
The Devil’s Apprentice is a prequel to this book, taking place roughly three hundred years ago.
The
Devil’s Apprentice
Patrick Stewart
Copyright © 2019
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the rights holder, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Foreword
This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance with anyone living or deceased is completely coincidental. This work of fiction is primarily based around demons and angels. It has references to god and the devil. If you are religiously inclined, please remember that this is a work of fiction not at all intended to offend you.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Epilogue
Author Comments
Chapter 1
His black hair was thick. It resembled more the spikes on the back of a hedgehog than it did human hair. He had red skin and two balls of black for eyes. His teeth were sharp and numerous. They were in rows of two just like a shark. He was a demon and his name was Jamie Azarath. Alex was having a pretty good day until Jamie showed up and frightened the crap out of him.
Alex was twenty-one years of age and led a pretty unremarkable life. He worked night shifts as a security guard in an office building in central London. During the day when he wasn’t sleeping, he usually came to this café. It was a cosy little spot just around the corner from his apartment. It was quaint inside. Three single sofas of a dark grey fabric were arranged in a U around a tea table. There was a wood burning stove and past that were rows of wooden chairs and tables opposite the counter.
It was a quiet place. Perfect for him to lose himself in his thoughts, work the brain and write away. Alex was a writer. Or at least, he was trying to write a damned book, something that he was currently doing a horrible job of. He had literally written the exact same line three times before hitting the delete button.
Sighing, he reached for his cold mug of coffee. Lifting it to his lips, he tilted the cup. Nothing. He recalled it being empty the previous time too when he’d lifted it to his lips. Madeline, the sometimes-attentive waitress, came over with a decanter full of the stuff. But rather than pour it into his mug, she stood over him. Her elbow rested against the corner of the sofa’s backrest.
Alex looked up at her. She had pretty brown eyes and at nineteen, was two years younger than him. Madeline had that perfect golden mix-raced skin. At five foot seven, she was a good height too. The coffee shop had chosen a smart dress code for the waitress - black skirt, white shirt. Thanks to the summer heat, Madeline wore a very short black skirt. Her white shirt had the top three buttons undone.
“That’s your fourth cup,” Madeline commented.
“Tired. Pour me another please.”
“You’ve come straight from your shift, haven’t you?”
“I showered first,” Alex said defensively.
“You should go to bed.”
“Want to come with?”
“To your bed? Sure,” Madeline said as the corners of her lips twitched. “Gain ten pounds of muscle first.” She was about to pour him coffee when she stopped with the decanter hovering over his mug. “You can pay for this, right?”
Alex dug his hands into his denim jean pockets and fumbling about. He grabbed everything withi
n, then placed the contents on the table triumphantly. “There ya go!”
Madeline separated the contents with her fingers. “Three buttons, two pennies and a string…”. She stared at the string with what looked like a seed tied to one end. Her eyes met his. “Jesus, Alex, this is sad. Where’s your credit card?”
“I think I’ve left it at home…”
Madeline frowned. “You’re not going to be able to pay for your first four then? I’ve gotten into trouble for giving you free stuff.”
“Sorry, didn’t know that,” Alex mumbled.
Madeline rolled her eyes. “My boss is a bit of a dick.”
“Want me to sort him out?”
“Sure,” she smiled. “Gain twenty pounds of muscle first though.”
“You said ten pounds of muscle earlier,” Alex muttered.
“Ten to sleep with me,” she winked. “Twenty if you want to take my boss down. He’s a big fucker.”
And with that, Madeline turned and walked away. Alex stared at her curvy behind. The short skirt accentuated it perfectly. He wasn’t ashamed that this mouth was hanging open some. He’d flirted with Madeline for a while now, but she’d never been this forward before. Alex made a mental note to hit the gym one day. He then turned back to stare at the screen on his laptop.
After blinking rapidly several times, Alex rubbed his eyes. Exhaustion was catching up to him. He hit the save button on the word document several times before closing it. He was about to slam his laptop shut when he noticed the girl. She stood opposite him and wore a short floral dress. Her bare knees brushed against the coffee table.
Alex recalled seeing her sitting at the other end of the room. Her head had been buried in one of those fancy Apple Macs. She had brown mousy hair and wore large spectacles, nailing the geeky but hot librarian look perfectly, effortlessly.
“Hi.”
“Hey,” Alex waved a hand at her.
It was an awkward wave. Feeling foolish, he used the hand to gently close his somewhat antiquated laptop.
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