Daimon, DANIELLE BOLGER [read my book .txt] 📗

the recording to the office I intended to visit. I eased away, lightly treading through the hall again, and discovered my destination. Opening the door revealed a dim room lighted by a solitary desk lamp. The plump older man sat hunched over a table and faced away from me, roaring in the midst of a heated soliloquy.

“Fuck that arrogant clown!” Mack's hand slammed on the desk. “Ordering me to do these books tonight, at this hour. It's unheard of! That smile of his, Christ, it's disturbing. No human could smile like that.”

“No human? Well, that's an interesting comment to make,” I stated from the hallway.

He swung around with unveiled fury, but when he viewed me his eyes widened. He shook his head, as if to shake off a crazy thought, and squinted. “Who the hell are you and what do you think you're doing in my office? Get in here so I can see you better!”

I did as ordered and walked silently towards the center of the room. As I felt the lamplight illuminate my features, I halted.

Mack jumped from his chair and backed away a few feet. “Impossible. You're meant to be dead!”

I placed a hand over the pulsing of my chest. “I think I might have been.”

His hand crept back across his coat. “How did you escape? Surely, that fool didn't let you go.”

My hand slipped between my breasts and fell by my side; both fists clenched so tightly I could feel my nails pierce my flesh. “You were there. You conspired to kill me.” I just managed to keep my voice calm.

“Doesn't look like it took too well. Fuck, Freddie, can't you even kill a little girl?”

Blood dripped from my hands. “Valentine. Who is he? Where can I find him?”

He cocked his head sideways as he performed a small twist to his body, his hand reaching inside the coat. “What? Valentine! What crap did that bastard give you?”

“Stop playing dumb.” My voice trembled as I drove my nails deeper into my palms attempting to quell my wrath. “I need to know. I need to know what happened out in that forest. I'm so scared, so confused, so...angry!”

I lunged forward and Mack stepped away hastily, but my hands were not aimed at him. Instead, I slammed them onto the wooden desk in furious desperation. “What did Valentine do to me? Tell me, what have I become?”

Black tears streaked my face and fell upon the blood-smeared table.

Mack scoffed. “What a mess. Seems like I'm the one who's cleaning this up after all.” He pulled a black object out in front of him, both hands clasping the metal tightly as he fixed a concentrated expression.

My fists tightened as I started to scream, “Tell me what happened! Tell me what I am,” but those words never escaped my lips. Instead, little objects started piercing my torso. The first of these forced my arms to fly laterally across my body. My mind caught up to the action around me, screaming the word, bullets.

Each succeeding shot caused excruciating pressure against my chest. I stumbled back. One rogue hand caught the desk-lamp as five more bullets greeted their friend in my chest. With the last I collapsed limply to the wooden floor, glass shattering down all around me. Blood rushed from every gaping wound, soaking my attire, and every ounce of strength was nullified. My eyes stared up at the dark ceiling, past the high-pitched roof, fixed in fear.

With my head flat against the wooden floor, I heard footsteps reverberate. “Stupid girl. You escaped once, why would you come back here? You really must have a death wish.”

Why did I come back here? I wondered.

I felt a wriggling, invasive pushing in my chest. Then I felt something breach my skin—six little metallic pieces ejected from my torso and clattered on the floor. Rabid pain in my stomach ensued.

Then I remembered, “I came because I'm hungry!”

I lifted myself back to my feet with ease and stole a quick look at my apparel. My top had almost completely changed from gray to red, and at the center were six holes that showed through to healthy crimson-coated skin. I could not silence my glee as a laugh, not too distant from a witch's cackle, escaped my lips.

“What the hell?” Mack raised his gun back up to me, just about to fire fresh hot pellets but I took hold of his arm, in a flash, and bent his elbow the wrong way. The gun clattered to the floor, misfiring a bullet before the man screamed in agony.

I placed a swift hand over his mouth, managing to slightly attenuate the vexing sound. I stared so close that our eyes were only inches apart.

“I really want to kill you, rip out your heart and eat it.” I smiled a Cheshire grin at the thought, but sobered quickly. “But I can be rational, despite what your lot have done to me. I'll give you a simple proposition: tell me about Valentine, what he did to me, and his connection to the Foxes—tell me and I’ll let you live. I'm going to remove my hand now. I expect an answer, not more pathetic moans.”

When his mouth was free, he gasped frantically. “Black...eyes!”

These, I narrowed. “Not what I asked for.”

His body trembled. “No soul. An abomination. They're the eyes of a demon!”

Within a second, I had him forcibly pressed against the wall. “Quit being cryptic, old man. You know something. What do you mean, demon? Is that what he did to me? Turn me into a...a demon? And Valentine, who is he? What is he?”

He whimpered.

A scary gangster whimpering. I groaned. Moving to his face, I placed a hand back over his mouth, brought the other to his broken arm and applied pressure. He howled in agony.

“Tell me and I'll let you go,” I pressed, and pulled away from his face.

“I don't know what you're going on about with that fucking serial killer! But there are things worse than serial killers. Demons walk the earth—strong, fast and murderous. Beasts in man's form.” He spat this out, seeming to regain some pride.

“How many?” I demanded. Mack grinned, bearing bloodied teeth. “What does it matter? If you're here, that means I'm already dead.” He broke out into hysterical laughter.

I wondered how his mouth started bleeding. Was I that strong? Could I have caused some internal hemorrhaging? I bashed him into the wall. “Tell me!” As I slammed him into the wall again, I heard something crack. After a wince, his smile broadened and blood slowly oozed from between his lips. Even several inches away, the smell was so intense, so sweet and so desirable. I felt the heat from it, and I heard his heart singing.

I could not hold out anymore—the monster won. I plunged an ardent hand straight into his chest. Reveling in the sound of his ribs snapping like bubble wrap, I wrenched the thumping heart free. The organ was so warm and moist; the smell being emitted was purely divine. Just like the image I had seen of myself the previous day, my mouth expanded beyond humanly possible limits, and I greedily placed the tasteful organ into my anxious oral cavity. I couldn't remember a moment of greater satisfaction than when I swallowed.

Consuming the dish was more satisfying than chocolate, or an invigorating workout, or sex with multiple orgasms. Every single cell, every nerve ending, every hair on my body was activated in a soft tingling way. I smiled. I couldn't not; I was so happy, so content and satisfied. I found myself giggling as if I were a child. In a sense, perhaps I was a child, though not a human one. I felt reborn into something greater, something more powerful. A new existence was birthed, and a wave of clarity swept over me. I still did not know how to define what happened to me but suddenly I could feel what I had become—I had transcended into a god. I could feel this incredible power writhing inside of me, desperate to explore this new world. At that time, the memory of my conflicting emotions was laughable. Surely, this was the truest state and one that I would be willing to sacrifice anything to preserve. I knew then that this was paradise.

“You know, you're a little noisy when you're hunting your prey. Lucky for you this is a pretty noisy club. In the future, you'll need to learn some discretion.” A confident English woman's voice dragged me sluggishly from my rapture.

I turned to a slender, silhouetted form leaning against the doorframe. The light shining in from the hallway set the edges of her long, curly hair ablaze in a fiery hue.

I licked the blood from my fingers. “Who are you?”

“My name is Ruby. I have been curious to meet you, Jane, but now that I have, I believe I am disappointed.”

My glee evaporated.

“The master wants you initiated, so, I'm here to tell you to come to the Sands on Saturday night. Come alone, and keep a low profile until then. Oh, and don't worry about the mess. I'll have someone clean it up as soon as you leave.”

I looked at Mack's disfigured corpse on the floor, the blood pooling around him, and at my own attire that painted me with a big red target. “What...did I just do?”

I was not surprised that she didn’t answer, but when I looked up to her for some guidance, she was gone. Pacing to the doorframe, I clutched it where she had just lazed against and looked down both sides of the hall. There was no one there; she had completely disappeared.

“Wait, you have to tell me what I am!” I pleaded. The club's music still pumped audibly through the walls. “Who are you, and where is Valentine? Wait!” I pummeled bloody fists to the carpet as more alluvium leaked from my faulty eyes, belying my prior elevated spirits. “Don't bring me into the darkness just to leave me here!”

Chapter Nine

Demon: An evil spirit capable of human possession requiring exorcism. A dark spirit that can control the person it inhabits and perform unnatural acts. Inhabited individuals may display changes in voice pitch, accents, even speak in previously unknown languages.

Demon: An entity from another spiritual realm. In some cults, these beings are worshiped similar to gods. During certain rituals a demon may be communicated with, and, for a price, the demon may exchange some of its power for the gift offered. Offerings usually involve blood or some other kind of bodily sacrifice.

Demon: Distorted spiritual remnants of human souls. After centuries of torture in hell, spirits are thought to forget their sense of self, and as a result, lose their conscience and individuality. These dissipate into multiple fragments, disperse and reassemble with shards of other broken spirits. Lost and confused, these amalgamations possess erratic and disjointed thoughts and are highly emotionally unstable.

My musings on my work computer screen were interrupted by a high-pitched snap, as the pen in my hand broke in half.

I gave an apprehensive glance around the relatively quiet Coastal Horizon office. No one seemed concerned with my sudden force; all were far too deeply engrossed in their own pursuits. Blood was pumping steadily through my co-workers' vessels; soft purrs of their breathing called out to me; their hearts thumped quietly, persistently and regularly; each with its own steady, mildly stressed, pace. Adrenaline was not running into overdrive, there were no screams of terror or pitchforks pointed at the barbaric creature that strutted into their office that morning. Though I bore long fangs, they never once questioned the ill-fitting wool I was draped in. They did not know that I was really a wolf.

That woman, Ruby, might have been telling the truth. They had cleaned up after me, covered up the death of one of their own, allowing me to parade another day in sheep's clothing, but why protect me? Was it because she was just like me? Was Valentine like me also? Was that why he turned me, so he could have another companion? The master wants you initiated...

Valentine—he had to be like me. He created me, and tomorrow offered the promise of long-awaited answers. Did I want this initiation into a life as an abomination, or was I still too angry and hungry for revenge?

I changed my entry in the search engine and gazed upon numerous images of “monsters.” They were ugly, violent, malevolent creatures with drool dripping from their mouths. One had a human heart in its hand with blood squirting from it. It