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

another one.”

“Why?” I enquired. “I mean...why did you want her to witness that?”

“It is our reputation. Everyone knows it, just as Gregory did. Mess with us and those closest to you will remember terrible pain, if they’re that lucky. Being only a child, she was allowed the chance to survive.”

“He was just trying to retire. He was old…how much value could he be to you when he lost the will to kill?”

She pursed her lips. “There is no retiring. Once you join the Foxes, you're with us until death. Our employees know too much to be allowed to their own devices.”

“Such a mark on a young girl. You know this will destroy her psychologically,” I accused.

“Reminds you of someone, does it? I find it very interesting that you should attempt to kill her twice, but fail each time.” Her smile was broad. “No matter. It's been dealt with now.”

I closed my eyes to maintain control. “She was just a girl.”

“Yes. Imagine how her hatred would have blossomed as she grew into womanhood.”

Right when I was about to leap off that chair and launch myself at Alex, a voice halted me.

“You will stay put.” It was Smoke again. He kept popping up everywhere. I turned behind me to view him materialize into what was only void before. Damn he was slick, I never even heard him approach.

I repressed the anger that was ready to roar out of me. It was fear that kept me back; fear of his onslaught. Damn it. They really do have control of me now. It took just our first encounter to set that in.

I turned back to Alex and shot daggers with my eyes.

“Your assignment was a disappointment, but that was not the failure,” she continued. “The failure comes from your incessant probing into our organization. You've crossed a line there, and we did warn you that there would be repercussions for any further disobedience.”

“So, shoot me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Now that would be pointless, you'd heal almost instantly. If I were going to do something to you, I'd ask Smoke here to have a chat with you.” She caught my shiver. “My, so something has sunk in. You can feel at ease, I'm not about to do that. Smoke will only engage if you don't restrain that beastly rage of yours. I'm hoping, though, that we can put that anger and resentment behind us. We are working for the same man after all. Don't you think it's time we shake hands and play nice?”

“All I can think about right now is tearing you limb from limb, ripping out your larynx to shut you up, peeling that delicate skin from your face and then finally finishing with your heart,” I responded.

“I thought you'd say something like that. Especially, when it seems that three days is your limit. However, I hope with this...” Her eyes flicked down to the package on the table. “That bubble of anger you have been festering will finally be turned away from us. Freddie picked it up especially for you, you know. He might not be here today, but he really is sorry for his impertinence. He wishes to be your friend, your brother, just as the rest of your daimon-kind. Won't you accept our offer of kindness? Our offer of kinship? Rose would like nothing more.”

Sucking in a deep breath, I leaned forward, removed the black flower and brought the box to my lap. Lifting the lid, I gasped.

A heart—a human heart—bloody gift-wrapped.

“I'm serious about this peace offering. I want us to be friends, Jane. I believe we can work together.” She even managed to sound genuine.

My stomach growled as I stared at it.

“It's okay, Jane, I won't be insulted if you eat in front of me.”

Mere seconds—that was how long I could abstain before plunging my face in the box and consuming the contents in one gulp. The organ was cool, but no less satisfying. It was as comforting as a warm hand on the shoulder, making me feel, for a moment, like I was not alone and facing an impossible future. The glow came; the weightlessness, the blissfulness; and it was enough to make me forget the nauseating company.

Reality could not be dismissed for long.

“There. Do you feel better now? You look absolutely atrocious with all that blood on your face, but...” Alex winced. “I do want you to feel better. Like you can trust us, your family.”

I frowned. What was just going on here? Was she really just being kind to me now: giving me a free heart, no killing required, no stressing about the mess that will lead to my incarceration? It did not make sense. These were my enemies, not my friends, not my family—they killed me and turned me into a monster.

They do keep cleaning up after you, a desperate part of me argued. They keep trying to reason with you and protect you.

However cruelly things started, could I have been wrong about them? Could I actually trust them? Could I believe that I was not alone? Sure, I had friends, but with every moment I was in their company I lusted for their hearts. I cared for them and they cared for me, but that was why the friendships were so dangerous. It seemed inevitable that they would discover who I truly was and when they did they would not accept me. They would run screaming, or maybe raise arms to end my abominable existence. Then I would be left with absolutely no one. However, with the Foxes—with daimons, like me—maybe I could really find a family that wouldn't leave me; they would love me, monster and all.

Alex pressed. “What do you say, darling, will you stop trying to fight us and join our family?”

I clenched my hands. “All I ever wanted was a family.”

“You have one now, with the Foxes, with others like you.”

I looked up into the gold sparkling liquid on the table before me. “I guess I could give it a go.”

She smiled sweetly. “Rose will be most pleased to hear it. In time, it will be arranged for you to meet your new father.”

****

A family, could it really be happening? Could I accept these people, these gangster abominations, as kin? I still harbored an internal conflict, though my defiance was finally beginning to lose the battle. A family was all that I wanted ever since I was that little girl in the restaurant. It was a bizarre turn of events, to say the least, but it stopped feeling wrong. Ever since I consumed that heart, I felt a warmth fill me that never left. It was a lot like love.

Father Rose. I wondered who this man was and whether it was possible to love someone who stole your life. By the memory of that sweet English voice, I did not think it improbable that this powerful hatred could be morphed into love. Maybe, down the track, I would even thank him for removing me from my endless, self-hating existence.

My thoughts turned to my daimon brothers, Smoke and Freddie; one I feared, and the other who disgusted me. Could I love them too? Then there was Ruby, was she like us, too? A sister I never had? That old man in the photos—Sage— would he be the final missing character to this strange family? Was he a lovable grandfather who, one day, might teach me how to go fishing?

All these notions seemed ridiculous. They were no more than childish fantasies. Still, I could not dismiss the possibilities from my heart, because maybe this was it; maybe in this new warped life I had finally found a home again.

“Are you even listening to me, Jane?” Frank sputtered.

My thoughts snapped back to the present situation. That's right, I'm standing in Frank's tuna infused office, about to be fired. Go on then, get on with it.

“Can't close my ears, can I?” I replied.

He glared from the other side of his oversized desk constructed from mahogany wood. It was so impractically large that there was barely enough room for his plump form to get around behind it.

“I was saying that your performance lately has been inexcusable. I've given you a generous leash lately, knowing that you had some sort of panic attack last week. I've given you ample space to sort out your emotions, but this is too much. You've been late each day this week, you didn't even turn up on Monday, and don't think I'm buying that cod-bull story that you had a dentist appointment. What dental appointments last the entire day?”

I shrugged. “I eat bad food, so I had a lot of fillings.”

“Don't give me that.” He took a deep breath to compose himself and sat up straight as if trying to sit taller than me. “I'm afraid...I'm going to have to...”

Emma burst through the door. “Frank! You won't believe the tip I just got.”

“Emma, I'm busy right now.” He was steaming at the hair filled ears.

Emma was pushing the door open and was incapable of restraining her zeal. “I'm sorry, Frank, but it's a murder.” Her smile stretched right across her face. “A murder, and no one else has been tipped off on it yet. Frank, we're gonna be the first ones to drop the story.”

“A murder, you say, and no other agency has picked up on it yet?”

“Not yet, but I'm sure they will soon. Oh, please let me go. It's not far; if I leave now I'm sure I'll be first on the scene.”

Frank nodded. “Take your laptop and write up a piece straight away. Send it to me and we'll post it online. Then I want you to secure exclusives with the police and write a follow-up as soon as possible,” he ordered. “Take Zach with you to get some shots. He's usually pretty good at bypassing police parameters.”

“Can't take Zach, he's not here.”

“What? He can't be sick; he hasn't called in. Been spending too much time with this one here, she's rubbing off on him.” He scowled. “Take Nick, then. He'll do.”

“Right-o.”

Just as she was about to shut the door, Frank called out. “Wait, the murder happened close by, so not in Paradise Grove?”

“Yeah, it's unusual. Great, hey?”

“Close-by...” he muttered with concern in his voice.

“Yeah, right in this very suburb: 21 Kensington street.”

“Hmm,” he murmured. “Right, best be first onto it.”

He turned back to address me, but I was already out of my chair.

I snatched the door right from Emma's grasp as Frank bellowed after me. “You get back here!”

He continued to shout after me, but I did not hear a single word. I pushed Emma out of the way, and was out of there so fast that if anyone paid attention they would have realized that I was not the same Jane they once knew, as I dashed with inhuman speed, but I did not care. I could not care about anything except for the location Emma had just stated.

21 Kensington Street, I knew that place. I stayed the night there once; in a drunken error of judgment I had slept with a co-worker. Fortunately, however, this mishap had never hindered our friendship. In fact, it strengthened it. We became good mates, and I always enjoyed his light-hearted humor and easy-going approach to life. I always looked out for the stupid geeky shirts he wore, and divulged my bitching rants about Emma, and, at times, about Sandra, too. He was one of my closest friends; one of the few people I had left that I could really talk to. He was the one person whose smile I missed when he was gone.

After sprinting through the car park, I slid into my car and switched on the ignition. Driving dangerously fast, I headed for 21 Kensington Street—the home of Zachary Goodman.

Chapter Eighteen

What followed was a blur.

I leapt from my car, jumped the tape blocking passersby from approaching the run-down apartment building, pushed past the uniformed officers, dashed up the staircase, ran through the open doorway marked apartment 8 and stopped still in the lounge room.

No. No. Not him. Not Zach. He was too good, didn't anyone know? He was the last person—the last! Zach...Not Zach!” Somewhere, as I processed through that, I transitioned from thought to speech, from internal prayers to moans of despair.

“No!” I screamed so loud I felt the glass of the building shudder.

“Hey, it's okay, Jane. I'm here for you.”

“Zach?” I croaked.

“It's okay, Jane, let me take you out of here.”

“No, you're not Zach!” I pushed this person away as I rose to my feet, never realizing that I was