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

him. Gunfire hindered my retaliation by ripping into my Achilles tendon on my right foot, forcing me to stagger down and lose my grasp on the chain. I fell down to my hands and knees—spewing blood— as the artillery assault continued.

“You fuckers are all dead!” I screamed. Staggering backward, I fell into a man shooting me from behind. I quickly took hold of his head in both hands and squeezed full force. I managed a slight smile as his skull cracked, eyes nearly bursting from their sockets.

One of them managed to sneak up on me and stab another knife in my back. This time, I was too slow. The man twisted the blade, severing my spinal cord. I collapsed to the ground, twitching and writhing in pain at the point of impact. I tried to pull myself to my feet, but they wouldn't respond; I managed to use my arms to pull myself up, but was only able to achieve a butchered form of the yoga-cobra position.

Hurry up and heal! I shouted internally at my body.

I felt the blade tickle at the back of my neck. I flattened with enough time to prevent any further spinal damage, but a quick hand to my neck showed yet more blood.

He made another go as I rolled away, using my hands to push off. As the knife fell, I caught it between both palms, yanked firmly away, shifted the hilt so it was in my hand, and cut away his outstretched limb.

He screamed with horror as I threw the blade straight at his face. His cries muted at once, and he collapsed motionless on the concrete.

The remaining assailants had regrouped and advanced, slowly. They had reloaded and resumed firing into my torso, arms, and legs, though the latter I barely detected. I crawled back to the knife expert, relinquished him of the weapon he held tenderly between his eyes, and flew this at one of the shooters. The bullets stopped from this direction. There was just one more stream of fire, one more stupid pip-squeak to kill.

I rose to an upright position and stared vehemently at my toes. They wiggled.

A bullet tore into my shoulder. I took a deep, hate-filled breath before rising unsteadily to my feet. I turned at this man and directed him a malevolent glare. The firing stopped.

He took a couple of slow steps backward; looked around at his comrades, all dead. He looked back at me, limping towards him, and gulped audibly. The coward turned tail and fled. In my barely recovered state, I could not even attempt to catch his pace. So, I turned back to the slicer at my feet and crouched over him. I was about to dig in for quick nourishment, when a heavy round object was crashed into my ribs, splintering the already broken bones in multiple places.

My weakened knees gave way instantly. I sagged to the ground, my hand clutching my side. I wheezed, suspecting that perhaps a rib was poking into my lungs or diaphragm. I blinked hard, forcing my sight to become clear. This took a few seconds to come into effect, as the ball that lay heavily to my side focused into a human head. It was the man's that fled.

Perfect. Silent laughter erupted from me, causing me to wince at the pain in my ribs.

I raised my head and found an old man watching me, somberly. This man was as crinkly as crushed aluminum and bore a deep furrowed brow. His wizened physique leaned on a cane in a lopsided way, as if to indicate at the decrescent strength he still maintained, contradicting a resolve in his black eyes. The searing pain to my side made me rethink the idea that his frame lacked substantial power. I knew then that this man, who bore a most hideous scowl, was none other than Sage.

I spat blood before me on the ground. “So that's your play is it? Throw a bunch of corpses to weaken me? You know, you're a fucking asshole.”

He was many meters away, and yet I could still hear him grinding his teeth as if he were pressed right up to my ear. “Disgusting.”

Strange, that's what I thought when I looked at your ugly mug.

“The whole human race has decayed to uncivilized savages,” he continued. “Drunk, drugged, money-hungry, sex-crazed, crass and disrespectful—to others and to themselves. Vile creatures that compensate for their unrefined linguistic skills with the use of...uncouth language.” He shook his head in distaste. “Anyone displaying this kind of behavior does not deserve the gift of life; their bones would be better used as fertilizer.” He stared hard at me.

Squatting, I pulled a hand across my mouth to wipe away the blood, but I could feel more leaking from my beaten gums and cracked lips. I smiled. “Seems to me like a messy way to feed the posies.”

He maintained his hard gaze. “Such a waste of potential.”

“Okay, now I know you're talking about me.” I shrugged, loftily. “Just because I refused to join your little club, doesn't mean turning me was a complete waste. I did kill Freddie, didn't I?”

The grinding of his teeth grew louder. “Yes. That is why you have to die.”

“What? I'm not under the special protection of Rose anymore, the great father?” I mocked.

His eyes narrowed. “He still wants you alive.” I failed to hide my shock. “However, his wishes can no longer be respected. Your rebellion was...testing. You were weak, uncultivated and ultimately manageable. Now, you have not only killed one of us, but assimilated his heart into your own. This has escalated the risk you pose to our master as unacceptable. Therefore, you will be eliminated.”

I smirked. “You're afraid of me...killing Freddie means that I can kill any one of you next.”

“Freddie was a fool, hardly a challenge for any daimon,” Sage snapped. “Regardless of whatever power you gained with his demise, it is a far cry from what you need to destroy the rest of us. We're a lot older than Freddie, and you, Kirra. You have no hope.”

“Then why disobey your master in trying to kill me?”

“One does not wait for a spider's nest to begin to hatch before cleansing it of pests.”

Nodding, I responded, “Once a pet, now a pest. I'm surprised by how poorly trained you dogs are. It seems like you need putting down.”

Air puffed from his nostrils. “We respect our master’s wishes, but we serve to protect. That is our inherited priority, something that strangely does not seem to have been born with you.”

“What can I say, I'm just special,” I replied.

“Your existence is an insult to the master, an abomination. Rose likes to have his games, but at times he goes too far. That is when we correct things. He will be upset, but not for long. He always has another toy.”

“Yeah...games,” I snarled. “I got a whiff he's into those. So, what, you want to kill me and ruin Rose's fun? I wonder if he takes it out on you—”

“He will not kill me, if that is what you are insinuating. Though he won't like it, he knows that my actions are in his best interests.”

“Sounds like you're his Daddy.”

“Rose is my master and my father, but I am his guardian—his protector— and in doing my duties to care for the well-being of my great parent, I will now kill you, Jane Kirra, and this time you will not reawaken.”

“Okay, okay, you wanna fight. Fine! Just give me a minute to snack on one of these delicious hearts.” I reached back over to the man I carved a third eye into, and was about to strike, until I was rudely interrupted by Sage's flying torso.

Two hands clamped around my throat. “You will not be allowed to recover. You will die here, quickly, and by my hand.”

I struggled at his grasp. “This...is not...a...fair...fight you...son-of-a-bitch.”

“At what point did things start to be fair? Was Rose fair when he blessed you with rebirth? Was he fair when he allowed one of his followers to die in your stead? Were you fair when you drugged your unsuspecting victim? Was the justice system fair when it failed to recognize the fifteen-year-old murderer?”

He drove me back and slammed my back against the concrete wall. Crumbs of stone cascaded down either side of us. With both his hands he flung me back against that wall again and tightened his grasp around my neck; in an impossible vice-grip I felt it clasp narrower and narrower, collapsing my airways within moments, and occluding my blood vessels. I thought it would be imminent that my head would pop off my shoulders. I could already feel my eyes begin to swell in my skull, threatening to protrude from their sockets.

I was not fighting; I was too weak, too stunned, too incapacitated by the memory: the man I killed when I was just fifteen. The murder I had gotten away with—the one I pretended never happened. Sage knew. Who else did? No, I could not dwell on that now. I was innocent. It was not my fault. I had to do it; I had to.

In cold blood? A cruel voice whispered inside me. Imagine if your father knew what you had done...

Tighter and tighter still those hands clasped around my throat. The world around me began to blur together.

I did it for my father. For the strong man he once was. He did not accept any sign of weakness or remorse. He did not forgive. My father died because of what those gangsters did. It was their fault, and I would kill every last gang member to avenge my parents, every last daimon to avenge Zach. It did not matter how havocked my body became; it did not matter what monster I came away as; I would kill Sage here for both my parents, and for Zach.

Something rippled through me; golden, smooth silk intimately caressing my body. I released it, and Sage was instantly thrown ten feet away. He looked up at me, flabbergasted.

“It's...not...possible.” I barely heard his words before my hand clamped over his throat and I raised his tiny frail body high over my head.

He tried to punch and kick me, moving strangely slow for a daimon. I grasped one of his arms, snapped it backward and let it drop down limply.

He screeched in agony, eyes bleeding black, just as Freddie's had done.

“How...have you attained such...power?” he spluttered through mouthfuls of blood.

“How…?” I repeated thoughtfully before entering my hand into his chest. My fingers enclosed over his all-too-warm heart.

There was a small tweak to his mouth, a wan attempt at a smile. “Yes, the daimon heart,” he ascertained. “Full of such volatile power. Consume it and it will consume you. Harness it and you harness the power of the daimon that possessed it; gain an enormous jump in power, but can you contain it again?”

My hand remained in his thorax. “I managed with Freddie.”

“Freddie...” He struggled to stifle his coughing. “You know what fuels our power? Fusion. That's the power of the sun. Incredible power. It can swallow planets whole by its pull alone. The size of suns can vary considerably, just as the power of a daimon. The death of one, great star produces a massive explosive force that cuts across solar systems and distorts even the light around it. If you're going to take the power of a star, you better be prepared to handle the blast.”

I caressed his heart within his chest. “Interesting information, but somehow I can't help but think you're motivated by self-preservation, as opposed to genuine concern for my well-being.”

“Take my heart.”

I almost dropped him with shock.

“Go on, take it,” he urged. “I don't wish to die but at the preservation of my master I will accept it willingly. My physical strength may not be much different to Freddie's, but my mind is far superior. If you try to take my power, you will have to defeat my subconscious first, and that you will be incapable of.” I could no longer discern whether he was racked by fits of coughing, or of laughter; I could not be sure. “Rose is much more powerful than you. If you have any hope to survive, you will need my power.”

I hesitated.

“I know; it's like those plagues humans were so fearful of. Some survived, but most perished. For a small chance of an improved immune system, who would willingly accept the high probability of death? You may even be thinking, “Just wait, maybe a cure will be developed over time—a vaccine—and you could get your greater power that way. Though, there is no science being developed for daimons, Kirra. If you really want to win, you've got to expose yourself to my disease.”

My hand tightened, but could not bring myself to tear the organ from his chest. It was not right, coaxing me to kill him this way. It was not that I thought he was lying; in fact, I hesitated because I believed every word he said. I needed his heart to get stronger, but most likely I would die. I did not want to admit it, but I was terrified of death. How many more times could my determination win out? I wondered how many more lives Zach's Catwoman had left. Then I remembered the Catwoman necklace Zach had once given me that I never wore. What a disgraceful friend I was.

I pulled my hand away, clasping its