"The most irritating part of this," Sebastian said, his face pressed into the ground, "is that the arrow kind of burns."
I knew he was immortal, of course, but knowing he was immortal and then watching him receive what would be a fatal wound on anyone with a smidgen of mortality was another thing altogether.
For a brief second, I had thought he was dead. Even the sound of his voice—irritated, but nonchalantly so—did nothing to ease the quick thumping in my ribcage. "Sebastian?" I asked timidly as blood pooled around the wound.
He turned his head slowly, wincing. "You sound worried." Groaning, he reached behind him and grabbed the arrow. With a movement too quick for my eyes to follow, he yanked it out. "That arrow," he continued, sitting up cautiously, "was meant for you. That being said, I need you to be really still."
Still? I had already frozen over in shock. His words circled in my head for a minute—arrow/meant/you—until they finally got through my thick skull. I clutched my midsection like the words had delivered a physical blow. "Me?" I echoed.
I knew being in Sebastian's life would come back to bite me one. I just thought it'd happen during a demon raid or a huge fight—not after a morning jog. Who even got up this early with the intent to kill? Who was this pissed at someone at seven in the morning?
Sebastian stood now, and he shot me a look that questioned whether or not I still had a lick of sense left. "Yes," he said patiently, dusting off his pants. He feigned nonchalance, but worry clouded his eyes. "Now be still. Taking down a couple of rowdy demons is hard enough without looking over my shoulder for you."
I wanted to be angry, I really did (how dare he imply I was trouble) but fear had dug its fingers deep into my heart. I nodded at him, though, giving the area a quick scan. I saw nothing, heard nothing, but then again, I didn't even know what I—
Something hard hit my side. The ground came flying at me quickly.
My hands flew out, but, instead of the ground, I sunk my nails into something warm and scaly.
Focusing, I looked into the face of—well, it had to be a demon. Right now, I drew blank, unsure what demon it was, although I could rattle off ninety-eight percent of them on a regular day. I screamed, trying to scoot back from the brown-scaled monster with its three eyes. A bull nose rested in the middle of its face, wide and trembling as it huffed. Its thin, chapped lips, and sharp, crooked teeth peeked through its open mouth.
The demon lifted me further into the air. "Liddle girl," it hissed. The deep voice, sounding similar to someone yelling into a megaphone, sent a shiver down my spine. Or, it would've had I been able to shiver.
My feet dangled in the air, and I realized that I had lost my shoe. "Let—me—go," I growled. I slapped my hands on top of his, attempting to yank them off my shirt, but it didn't budge a bit.
It laughed. "If you insist," it cackled.
One second it held me in the air, and the next I looked at the trees ahead of me as I sped through the air. Okay, Athena, think. I refused to close my eyes. I had about three seconds before one of those heavy tree trunks met with my head. What did Sebastian teach you?
Not much of anything that could stop me from hitting a tree head-first while a demon laughed in the background. We hadn't really covered this part. I should've used the dagger he had thoughtfully pressed into my hand.
Also, it was worth noting that I was doing everything but staying still right now.
This is going to hurt, I thought, throwing my arms around my head to prevent some of the impact.
The impact hurt as much as I thought it would. While my arms took most of the blow, the sudden, jarring pain rattled my brain around in my head. Tears stung my eyes as the ground caught my body.
The demon's face appeared in front of me, grinning a wicked, crooked grin. "Poor little Walker girl. One of you must die so that Mother can rise," it crooned, reaching down to grab me. Its thick hand wrapped around my throat, lifting me.
This was it. This was how I died.
Well, kid, it's been a good twenty-one years.
"One of you must die so that Mother can rise," it crooned again, this time gleefully. My eyes drifted shut, and air became harder to come by. I took a final look around the small clearing. Sebastian held his own against seven or eight demons, but he moved slower than usual, his sword not cutting through them as efficiently. Sweat ran down his temple, and he seemed as if he had forgotten about me.
And, of all the things that had happened tonight, including my impending death, him not noticing my absence hurt the most. Crushes were silly and illogically.
Wait.
I did remember this demon. They weren't tracker demons but soldier demons. A pretty upper echelon. They belonged to the bigwig demons, ones like Sebastian. I couldn't remember their names, but I did remember they had one power—they could evoke confusion, which in turned caused things like forgetfulness, fogginess, and more. The only way to beat it was to—well, that was the issue here. Sebastian didn't know, and neither did I.
Fat good of luck remembering had done me.
"Walker girls, we hear about you so much. One of you must die, so that Mother can rise," it whispered, and happiness swam in its bulbous green eyes. It stomped the ground, and I glanced down to see it had thick, feet, almost like an elephant.
Walker girls. One of you must die, so that Mother can rise. I stored that in my memory for later. If I had a later.
Sebastian had slaughtered two, and they lay on the ground, simmering into ash. That had only angered the others. His eyes were narrowed in concentration.
I wish this moment could've been more dramatic or romantic—an inner monologue, my life flashing before my eyes, the sudden realization that I was in love with Sebastian and it would never be—but I wasn't a monologue girl, and my life had been pretty uneventful and awkward, not really worth mentioning. Instead, I felt really tired, even though my heart ran a race in my chest, confused and constricted. I wasn't really ready to die.
Laughing, the demon stepped back. A twig snapped underneath it. The next few seconds happened very, very slowly. The demon turned around, and when it did, it loosened its grip just enough for me to suck in a deep breath.
Sebastian whirled his head around, and a widening of sudden realization in his eyes reminded him I was mere seconds from death, and he hadn't noticed.
The other demons looked, too, and the moment of distraction was enough for Sebastian to launch a single knife at the demon holding me. It whistled through the air faster than I could follow, puncturing the side of its neck. Thick, black goo spurted out, and it tipped over to the ground, going slack.
I crumbled next to it, a sigh of relief escaping as I fell to my knees, hands on the black-goo covered dirt, sucking in breath after breath. I'm alive, I thought. I smiled. For a second, I forgot about the pain running through me and the bruises littering my skin.
Sebastian roared.
When the demon next to me took its last, shuddering breath, it erupted into flames. I pulled myself out of the way to avoid being burnt. Around him, the other demons wailed and burst into flames, too.
Oh, yeah, they were classified as group demons. Technically, it was one demon, but it split itself off into as many as ten. You could kill each part of it, but until you killed off the heart, the others would prevail. You had no way of knowing which one of was which until you killed it.
The fires burned quickly, and I stared into them, kind of lost, kind of relieved. Demons, Sebastian had taught me during one of our many lessons in his living room, burn faster than humans. I couldn't exactly remember the context of that conversation now—something about disposing of bodies, I believed.
Sebastian sheathed his sword before jogging over to me. He forced a smile on his face.
"I thought I told you to stay still."
Sebastian took a deep breath. He had been pacing the room for the better part of the last hour, alternating between glaring at his phone while grumbling and glancing over at me with a mixture of fear and concern. I told him hours ago I felt fine—whatever concoction he gave me had not only taken the pain away but also faded the bruises and reenergized me. Not that it mattered, he looked like he thought one of those demons would come into his well-protected home and drag me to the pits of hell.
Finally, his phone buzzed. He had flung his bedroom door open, stepped through the archway, and left me alone for the first time in seven hours.
The attention made me feel a little spoiled. At first. By hour three when I woke up to him sitting across the room and watching me intently, I started to feel smothered. My body had recovered fully, especially after that soak in epsom salt and a change into my favorite pajamas; I felt I could take on a whole group of demons by myself with my bare hands.
Having him out of the room gave me a chance to get up and stretch my legs without him hovering by to make sure I wouldn't fall out. I didn't even have a chance to use the bathroom because he stood by the door, and that was just awkward.
The fact that the arrow had been meant for me, and the phrase, Walker girls. One you must die so that Mother could rise sent chills down my spine. Who was the other Walker girl? Had they gone after her? Why couldn't she be the one who died?
I was not going to pretend to be some selfless heroine; I was all about the preservation of myself.
Who was Mother? Was she the Mother of those demons? Of something larger? And what did my death—or one of my cousins' death—have to do with her rising? Was she dead?
None of it made sense, and I wanted answers. I knew better than to ask Sebastian in his current state. He would only get annoyed and refuse to say anything else to me until he calmed down.
I washed my hands and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like a wild child with my bedhead and the bags under my eyes.
Outside the bathroom, Sebastian had returned to the room. He went through his closet, and when I stepped out, he gave me a small glance but nothing else. "I need to go... handle some business." His voice was hard and matter-of-fact. 'Handling business' meant sending a demon back to the hell it came from. Or torturing someone or something for information. Right now, I bet it was torture, and something about the idea of him with that much control and power sent a little thrill up my spine. "Why are you staring at me like that?"
Whoops. I fixed my face, a little embarrassed. "Sorry, my mind was a million miles away." The image of a shirtless Sebastian with a whip dangling from his hands flashed through my mind briefly, just long for the corners of my mouth to turn up and my heart to do a little jig in my chest. Then I banished the thought away because he wasn't inflicting sexual torture on people, and, anyway, I didn't think he was into BDSM. Although, I thought, pursing my lips, you never asked...
Sebastian looked half-confused, half-amused as he stared at me. "What are you thinking about?"
"All the things I can get into in your house while you're gone," I responded. "And BDSM."
He arched one of those perfectly thick eyebrows at me. "Just stay away from the weapons. I don't want to come home to you with your hand cut off." He grabbed a black hoodie and pulled it over his head, and fixing me with a serious look. "I should be back in an hour or so. If you need me beforehand, call me. Even if you see a rat, a bug, any of that, let me know."
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at him. His house was the most well-protected place in the world. Only two people could get in and out, and they were me and him. Even the witch who had put up the wards and protections wasn't able to get in unless he asked her to. "Yes sir," I answered.
Hard-headed and self-preservation didn't mix. I was content to stay in his house and watch television until he got back. Outside, demons awaited. In here, I had food, snacks, video games, the internet, and a new season of my favorite show to watch.
Sebastian gave me a final look before he disappeared.
Teleportation was such a cool power to have.
Sebastian had two powers: he could teleport, and he was telekinetic. He never used his telekinesis for anything productive, at least not that I saw. I only saw him use it when he was being lazy—floating the remote to us when it rested by the television and we laid on the sofa. Or, instead of getting up for another slice of pizza, bringing the whole box to us. Even doing something as simple as closing and opening doors in my face just to mess with me. I had no idea how strong the power actually was.
His teleporting power I knew less about. I had only saw him do it, but I never experienced it myself. Apparently distance didn't matter because I called him while on campus, and he at home—a thirteen mile distance—and he appeared in seconds. He wouldn't teleport with me, though, because he said only people with supernatural blood could withstand it. Maybe I believed it, or maybe not, but I didn't want to try and end up with a leg in Missouri and an arm in Louisiana.
And that, unfortunately, was all I knew about Sebastian and his powers, or this world. He withheld information from me, only answering questions on a need-to-know basis. I didn't even know what constituted as 'need-to-know' from him. I knew about the various forms of demons and how to defeat them but not much about him. I knew neither the origin of him and his siblings nor their names. He referred to them as "my brother" or "my sister." He didn't talk about his childhood, except that he was raised in London, and after he turned twenty, he went back and stayed there until coming to America about fifty years ago. Everything else I picked up from being around him: favorite colors and foods, music, etc. etc.
Honestly, it seemed a little weird to hang out with someone who could kill me and not know a single thing about them, but I never once felt afraid of him. A little shaken by his undeniably good looks, but never afraid.
I paced now, full of energy and... alone. Bored.
I needed to do something that involved being active. Thinking about Sebastian had only taken up three minutes of my time.
Sebastian had a two story home with everything accessible to guests on the first floor. The kitchen, living room, his bedroom, and a guest bedroom. His personal office was on the second floor, along with a huge, empty room, complete with weapons hanging on the walls that he used for training and practicing. The whole second floor had blacked out windows, and you couldn't see into them. Also, that floor was sound proof because sometimes he tortured there if he needed to leave a place quickly but needed additional information.
In fact...
I took the stairs two at a time.
Nudging the door open, I tried to not pay attention to the silence. Nothing squeaked or made noise unless I made it. Sebastian liked utter silence, whereas I liked a slight bit of noise.
Kicking my socks off, I scanned the wall for a weapon I could use, despite Sebastian's command. I didn't have to listen him. He might of had a century and some change of age on me, some more experience, and thirteen times my strength (or more), but he wasn't my father.
My eyes roamed the wall of weapons until they landed on what Sebastian had informed me was a saber and not a curvy sword. I carefully removed it from the wall. The ivory blade and white-gold hilt gave it an ethereal look. Two markings on the hilt looked like someone drew two apostrophes on it. Something about it felt right; the weight was perfect, the length perfect, and when I moved it through the air, it was more of an extension of my arm than a blade.
Sebastian told me weapons should be like that.
I moved to the center of the room. I cut through the air with it, side to side, up and down, as if fighting an invisible opponent. I pictured that stupid thick-necked, bull-nosed demon in front of me, and I attacked. I stepped backward, jabbing the saber forward.
It sliced her arm and made her angry but caused no real harm. She charged at me, underestimating my strength. I feigned to the left when she got closer, and spun gracefully, the saber twisting in my hands and cutting her shoulder blade. It angered her.
On and on I went like that until I felt my legs burn and my arms get heavy. Sweat collected on my forehead and on my back.
Years ago, most people knew me to be handy with weapons. Anything my parents put in my hands, I excelled at using. Knives were thrown with precision. I used a bow and arrow like I grew up hunting for my food. I never used a gun, but the one time I used a sword, I astounded the audience.
I remembered how good it felt to hold them in my hand, how natural to pretend there was an actual danger I hit instead of a wooden board. It scared my parents. It made my grandmother proud. When I got older, though, my mom made me exchange the weapons for "girlier" hobbies. So instead of swords and knives, I learned to walk in heels and apply make-up.
My parents held so many late night conversations about me back then. She might grow up to be a serial killer, Mom worried. I could picture her biting her lip, looking exactly like me, except twenty-six years older. Dad would reply, Or she'll grow up and go to the Olympics. I don't think Athena is capable of hurting anybody. Mom wouldn't say anything, agreeing. But then, a few minutes later, right before they went to bed, she would say, I still don't like it. It feels like we're preparing her to fight for her life.
And Dad, as quiet as he was, would say, Well, if you feel like she's going to need to fight for her life, shouldn't we prepare her for it?
Maybe God made me good at those things because I'd need them later. To defeat this 'Mother' character. If demons existed, then so did God, right? Or some sort of good. Or maybe I was just good at things, and there was no divine intervention, just a case of being born at the right time.
Still, Mom's worry had been valid.
One must die, so Mother can rise.
"Take this, Mother," I snapped, jabbing into the air as if she stood right in front of me. No one threatened my life and expected me to take it sitting down.
Sighing, I relaxed the saber away from my imaginary opponent. Eventually, I needed to actually learn to use this thing, and not because I wanted to look cool or cute like before, but because I valued my life. The time for games, as Mom would say, was over.
An eery feeling crept along my spine. Nobody but Sebastian can get in here, I reminded myself, but I lifted the saber instinctively anyway. I glanced towards the door, then behind me, feeling a little creeped out, although I saw nothing. Time to call Sebastian.
I didn't put the saber back on the wall. I closed the door behind me. Okay, so that left the threat at the bottom of the stairs, or in any of the surrounding rooms. But if they could get—
I had made a half of second's warning before something crashed into me. Shrieking, I swung the saber blindly, fear seizing control of my good senses once again. My blade made contact with something soft and warm, and the right half of my body slammed into the banister. Somebody landed on the other half of my body, and I drew my knee up to get them off of me, but they weighed too much.
Think, Athena.
We tumbled down the stairs, me on top of the person, and I couldn't do anything but hold tight and hope I didn't break my neck. So much for the demon fighter that could take down Mother.
The person tightened their grip around me. Worried they would snap my back in half, I wriggled against them, bringing my knee into their crotch. Jesus, did demons even have genitalia? Their reproductive organs never came up in a lesson. It worked, though, because it grunted—definitely a man—and let me go. I went flying over his head until he grabbed my ankle, and we slid the last five steps onto the floor. My saber had fallen a few inches out of my grasp. I reached for it, but he pulled me back faster and stronger than I could manage to escape him.
The saber became further away. I kneed him in the face, this struggle becoming less practiced and more of a need for survival. Sebastian would be coming home soon, Sebastian would—
—do something like this.
The hand around my ankle felt familiar now. I tugged my leg away from him, frowning, and grabbed his black hair with my free hand. I pulled his head up, looking down into his serious, dark brown eyes.
"Don't stop," he said, not having broken a sweat.
But I couldn't fight him, not like before. He didn't scare me. "That wasn't cool," I snapped.
"You were practicing," he said simply. Which was Sebastian for, I wanted to see what you had learned.
"You scared me."
"You won't be afraid of demons then? They're not going to give you a warning before they show up."
True. Still, I battled with my pride at being bested, and irritation at his joke. "Still wasn't cool," I mumbled.
Sebastian grinned, waiting on my tantrum to subside. "You're being sensitive again."
Well, I was sensitive.
"Lighten up, Tee. I did it for your good."
He gave me a half-smile, reaching over and pulling me down. My arms flailed, catching him on the cheek, and he laughed as I toppled over onto him. His muscles rippled beneath me, sturdy. He smiled at me, eyes twinkling in delight, the corners crinkled. My breath caught.
I became distinctly aware of his waist pressed against mine, and if the thought of him torturing someone had gotten me bothered earlier, being on top of him did something else entirely. I grabbed his shirt in an effort to push myself away, but ended up curling my fingers into the cotton material. His arm around my waist tightened, and his smile dropped. His eyes got a tad bit darker, and his lips parted.
Kiss me, I thought.
The intrusive thought splashed me like water. I uncurled my fingers and sat up. He dropped his arm, and I straddled his waist.
Sebastian frowned, and a second later someone at the door. "There's the pizza," he muttered.
We both got up like last few seconds hadn't happened.