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“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?!” Mason muses flippantly.
“Not the point and you know it!” Crispen scolds.
“No? Well she’s alive, isn’t she?” Mason growls, now sounding irritated. “Your plan was to walk out there and be like ‘hey, we’re just going to attack you now, demon, if that’s alright?’ like that was going to work. He would’ve heard us coming and killed her, before we even left the building, just to piss us off.”
“So you threw a homemade bomb full of brass shavings through a window to stun him, knowing that Megan, too is wounded by brass?” Crispen challenges.
I open my eyes to blurred vision and a killer headache.
“Yeah, she’s alive, and that demon is locked up underneath us, so I would call that a success.”
My vision focuses, and I find myself staring up at a white ceiling. My skin aches terribly.
“She’s awake, you two, so you can stop arguing now, please,” Aria chastises in a giddy voice.
I move to sit up and pain erupts all over. I wince and take in the three worried faces in front of me. I’m lying on one of their white couches.
“Megan, are you alright?!” Crispen demands.
I try to speak but nothing comes out. I clear my throat. “It hurts,” I grunt.
“I know, tell us where, and we’ll fix it.”
“Everywhere,” I cry. I feel like I’ve been lit on fire, and all my skin is suffering from burns.
“Let’s start with your feet. Point to the sorest spots,” Crispen suggests. He pulls some tweezers from a purple bag. I assume Aria’s makeup bag.
It takes me a second to mentally pinpoint the sorest spots on left foot as my entire foot is in agonizing pain, so much pain that it feels like there should be blood, but surprisingly there’s none. I then point to three spots, and Crispen uses the tweezers to dig out what I assume are chunks of brass. We repeat this process for every single part of my body. Aria steps in and switches spots with Crispen when it comes to the awkward parts of my body, and hours later, when I’m finally pain free, I pass out. Pain takes a lot out of person.
I wake up in the same place, covered in a thick, pink blanket. I groan to myself and close my eyes tightly, hoping that when I open them again, I’ll be back at my house and everything will be normal. If only, right? It’s nice to dream.
“Good morning, sleepy head,” a deep, male voice coos from behind me. I tilt my head up slowly and see Crispen standing over me. He chuckles and eyes me apologetically. “You slept all evening, night, and most of the morning. It’s nearly noon.”
It sure feels like I’ve slept that long. My entire body is stiff and tired. I’ve basically been in a sleep coma these past few hours.
“Are you hungry?” he asks when I don’t reply.
“No,” I answer in a croaky voice and clear my throat.
“You’re lying. You must be hungry.”
“I just want to go home,” I admit. “I’ll eat when I’m at home.” I expect to be covered in blood and scabs from the brass, to my surprise, I’m totally fine. Did it even slice me up? Was it just on my skin?
He’s silent for a moment. “Megan, you can’t go home. It’s not safe. You’re safest here with me and my brother and sister. You’re a smart girl, and I think you know that.”
He’s right. I do know that I’ll have to stay here. I know that it’s not safe for me at my house, but I still want to go home more than anything. I need something familiar.
Something moves slightly near my feet, and I screech in surprise, sitting up. At my feet, sits an orange kitten no older than probably five weeks old. My heart immediately melts. I have a huge soft spot for kittens, and Crispen knows it.
“That’s Rhino. Mason named him that stupid name. There’s three more in his bedroom. His cat, which is stupidly named Lint, just had kittens a few weeks ago. I’m sure this little guy’s momma is looking all over for him.” Crispen comes around the couch and picks the kitten up in his hands, cradling it gently. “Mason brought it out to you. He thought it might cheer you up when you woke up. I think he feels bad for what he did yesterday. You know, with the whole knocking you unconscious with brass shavings thing?”
“Good morning, love,” Mason chimes in a sing-song voice as he enters the room, interrupting my thoughts. He has a grey and white kitten perched on his shoulder like a parrot. Mason pours himself a glass of juice, downs it, and then comes over to where I am on the couch. “Sorry about that whole incapacitating you thing. Think fast or suffer from the consequences that’s my motto.”
“It’s going to be your motto until you get someone killed,” Crispen grumbles and sets the purring kitten down onto my chest. The kitten lies down and closes its eyes as if it’s completely content.
“I’ve saved more lives with that motto than I’ve lost. We didn’t have time to sit down and come up with some elaborate plan last night. I acted. I saved Megan’s life, and I don’t regret it. I feel bad for causing her pain, but if we were to do the whole thing again, I wouldn’t change my actions.”
“Crispen, enough with the bitching and complaining. We all know that Mason saved her life last night. We let our guards down for a few seconds, and she almost died. If you’d have followed her out of the building, none of that would have even happened,” Aria mutters, entering the room with tousled hair and purple, fleece pajamas. “You owe him not the other way around.”
Crispen scowls.
“I came here to help you, Crispen, and Mason is obviously also trying to help you,” Aria mutters while biting into a sandwich. “We’re not the enemies, remember?”
Crispen’s shoulders fall as if in defeat, and he sighs. “Yeah, I know. I’m just a little protective, okay?”
Both Mason and Aria turn their heads to look at Crispen as if this statement is completely obvious.
“What?” Crispen asks, sounding confused.
Aria and Mason exchange looks.
“Well, Crispen, you have a pretty big track record of being protective. Especially with Aria, as I’m sure she can refresh your memory,” Mason mutters.
I struggle to sit up a bit, because my back is becoming sore from lying down for so long.
“I don’t think it’s a bad thing to be protective,” Crispen gives in.
Aria smiles. “You can’t put everyone you love into a bubble, Crispen.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, Aria. I’m sorry if I’m a little over protective, but if you haven’t noticed, everyone we get close to dies.”
Aria shrugs. “Yeah, I’m aware, but that’s life. You can’t hover over everyone that you love. You have to let them live their lives, otherwise, they don’t really live at all, now do they?”
Crispen sighs and shakes his head. “Yeah, okay. Enough with the lecturing.”
Aria’s look turns smug, and she switches her attention to me. “How are you feeling, Megan?”
“Better than the last time I was conscious,” I assure her with a fake smile.
Aria finishes the food in her hand, then she closes in on me and smiles when she sees the fur ball lying on my chest. “I think Rhino likes you.”
Mason scoffs. “He might like her, but he loves me.”
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Aria snarls at Mason playfully.
Mason fakes a cringe and then shrugs. “Not really. I work from home, remember?”
“How long do you think I’m going to be staying here in Toronto, Crispen? I was hoping to be back in Australia before the end of the month,” Aria asks flippantly.
Crispen sticks his bottom lip out a little bit in thought. “I’m hoping that we can get this problem resolved within a week or so. We have that demon down in our cellar now. If we can get him to tell us who else is after Megan, then we can hunt down all of those demons, and it’ll be safe for her here, then you can resume your world travel. Are you already tired of us, or what?”
“No, but you are both rather annoying. The last couple days have reminded me why I don’t visit more often.”
Mason rolls his eyes. “You’re so dramatic, Aria.”
“Well seriously, Mason. You’d think that after how many years you and Crispen have been alive, you’d know how to clean a dish or do some laundry. It took me forever to get this place back in living condition, and you’ve already begun messing it up again.”
“Oh, Aria, why do we need to do the dishes and laundry when we have a housekeeper for all of that nonsense?” Mason argues. The cat on his shoulder leaps off of him onto the counter in the kitchen that he leans on.
“If you have a housekeeper, then where the hell has she been?!” Aria demands angrily.
“Crispen demanded that she stay away for a while until we got this sorted out. He didn’t want the demons sneaking a bomb in with her or something since they know where we are living.”
“And you listened to Crispen? Why? You never listen to Crispen.” Aria questions him curiously.
“Well, he had a point. I didn’t really want to get blown up.”
Aria rolls her eyes and shakes her head at the same time. “Whatever. Why don’t you two stay here, and Megan and I go back to her place and stay there?”
“We should stick together. There are probably more of them than us.” Crispen says this as if it’s not up for debate. “Who knows how many will come looking for Blayk.”
Aria nods in agreement to this. “You’re right, but if they haven’t tried to kill us yet, then they don’t know how to kill us, and we know how to kill them.”
“Yes, but Megan is basically human. As far as we know, anything that can kill a human, can also kill her. It only takes you being distracted for a moment for her life to end,” Crispen argues.
Aria must give in because she locks eyes with me and smiles. “Well, what are we doing today then?”
“I was hoping that we could do some testing on Meg—” Mason starts but doesn’t get to finish because a nasty glare is sent his way by Crispen.
“No, now is not the time to further our knowledge on halflings. It is the time to plan and protect,” Crispen grunts in a gruff tone.
I stretch my legs, moving just enough to wake up Rhino. The kitten stands, stretches, and lies back down comfortably before yawning and falling back to sleep.
“You bring a girl with demon blood into our house and expect me not to experiment? Do you know me, Crispen?” Mason asks dubiously.
Aria speaks up. “Mason, I think you know that this girl with demon blood is more to Crispen than just a girl with demon blood. She is a good friend of his. I would hope that you’d respect that.”
Mason looks saddened but nods in agreement. “Fine.”
“Megan, Mason is the brains of the family, and his head is always buried in a book of some sort. He doesn’t mean anything by wanting to experiment on you. He’s just overly curious about everything. I am the peacekeeper around here obviously. Crispen is the fighter. We all excel in different areas, and we make a pretty good team most of the time. Mason comes up with our elaborate plans, I make sure that the boys behave rationally and humanely, and Crispen kicks ass when it comes to fighting.”
“You’re making yourself sound useless, Aria. You’re a lot more than a peacekeeper. Peacekeeping hasn’t kept you alive all of these years, it’s definitely your fashion sense,” Crispen mocks her.
I sit up further, causing the kitten on my chest to dig its claws into my skin. I clutch it carefully and pull it gently from my shirt. I place it on my lap, and it easily drifts to sleep again. I wish I could be like this kitten and just sleep. Sleeping takes us away from reality. That would be nice right now, because my reality is really screwed up.
“Aria came here from Australia, because Mason called and told her that he was worried about me. He told her that I had an obsession with protecting you, and I wouldn’t leave your house and come home,” Crispen explains Aria’s presence.
“You left my house a lot. It’s not like you were there all of the time,” I remind him.
He shakes his head embarrassedly. “Yeah, actually, Megan, I was there all the time. I was just outside to give you a break from me and make it look like I was working. Like I said, I quit my job.”
“So I haven’t been left alone at all the past few weeks?” I wonder aloud.
Crispen’s lips twitch, and he shakes his head. “Not for a second. Not since I came back from work one day and someone was watching you through the patio doors. You remember, when you heard the crash on the back deck and the flower pot fell? Someone was out there.”
I’m not sure whether I should be flattered, creeped out, or thankful. I’m not dumb, and I know that if he weren’t around the past few weeks, then I would probably be dead.
“She’s sure quiet. I expected her to be louder. To get along with you, I thought she’d have to be a loud one,” Mason teases while skimming through a newspaper, still leaning against the far counter.
Crispen scowls at him and then turns his attention to me, a smile arranging upon his face. “Do you feel up for a walk?”
A walk? He must be joking.
“Aria and Mason are going to see what more they can get out of Blayk. I thought I could give you a tour of the house,” Crispen explains and comes around to the front of the couch. He grabs my hand and helps me up. I clutch the kitten gently, waking him up for the hundredth time. I place Rhino down onto the couch.
“This isn’t an apartment building. It’s set up to look like one, but we own the whole thing. Most of the doors don’t even open,” Mason answers my unspoken question. I am reminded of Blayk and Landon’s weird housing situation. Is this common, or is it a demon and hunter thing?
I catch movement from Aria out of the corner of my eye. She moves too fast, inhumanly fast. In fact, I don’t see her move as much as disappear then reappear a few feet from where she was milliseconds earlier.
“Aria, don’t do that, please,” Crispen mutters sternly. “You’re going to frighten her.”
“She’s not a baby, Crispen. I think she can handle it. After all, she’s going to have to get used to it if she plans on remaining friends with you.”
I let out a breath of air that I didn’t know I was holding in.
“We are what we are. You can’t just pretend that you’re human to impress her,” Aria continues.
I straighten my clothes awkwardly. Wow, is this ever weird.
Crispen is silent for a moment before he grabs my hand and pulls me down the hallway on my left. He leads me passed a few doors, which I assume are bedrooms, down some stairs, and into an open room, the walls, floor, and ceiling are all made from cement. There are large gashes and gouges in the cement like some kind of beast was down here at some point.
“This is Mason and I’s training room. We practice fighting down here. Below it, is our cellar. It’s where we lock demons up sometimes for information or leverage,” he begins. “Mason and I were speaking while you were sleeping. There is no weapon that we have which we can give you to harm a demon that won’t also harm you, so we invented something new. You are obviously not affected by salt, not many halflings are, so we threw together some liquid cement and some salt, shaped it into a knife, and stuck a handle on it. It’s not the most...beautiful of things, and it might fall apart as salt is brittle, but it’s the best we could come up with for now, not that you’ll need it, I’m not leaving your side, and my siblings won’t be far. It won’t kill them, but it’ll hurt them.”
“I didn’t realize you were so...possessive?” I say it like a question, because I’m not sure if it’s the right word. I know that Crispen cares about me, but I didn’t realize just how much. It’s like I’m his child not his close friend. The more I think about it though, the more I understand his concern. I mean, demons are after my ass. If demons were after his ass and I could do something about it, then I guess I too would be a little possessive. I suddenly regret what I’ve said. I need to learn to think before I speak.
“Yeah, well, I care about you, Megan. I care about you more than you know. This is life and death, not some game. If someone isn’t with you at all times, then you will get killed. It only takes one second. You won’t even see them coming. They’re fast. We slipped up yesterday, and it almost cost us your life. We’re lucky that the guy wanted to play with you and not just wipe you off the face of the earth. He won’t be so careless next time and neither will we,” Crispen’s voice shakes as if he’s so angry he’s about to burst. “You have to take this seriously, Megan. This isn’t some movie or book where there’s always a relatively happy ending. That’s not how this works. Just a few weeks ago you were paranoid as hell, now you’re acting like this is all fine. Getting kidnapped by crazies is apparently more disturbing to you than the fact that demons exist and they want you dead.”
“No, I’m not. I think I’m just in shock. Like, obviously I know I should be freaking out,” I mutter nonchalantly. Why am I not freaking out? I didn’t go into shock when I was kidnapped, then again, all of this is even more insane than that was. Maybe I’m not freaking out because I trust Crispen. Well, that can’t be it either. I just found out that he’s immortal. Maybe I’m not freaking out because all of this actually makes sense for once. Finally, I have answers.
Crispen pulls a short blade from a spot where numerous are hanging on the wall like upstairs. He hands it to me. I take it wearily. I’ve never really handled a weapon before. Of course I mean, besides the cleaver that I carried around for week for my protection. It seems silly now that I was carrying around a cleaver. What was I going to do, slice a demon up with it? How silly.
I look at the blade in my hand and feel a sense of worry. Like I can defend myself with this. I don’t even know how to use it. I cut my fingers cutting vegetables sometimes. I’m an absolute klutz! This is not going to work.
“What are you expecting me to do with this exactly?” I ask him nervously, twirling the knife around in my hand and examining it.
“You are going to learn how to use it. Aria is going to show you later while I take my turn with Blayk,” he mutters. “It’s mother fucking sharp, so be careful with it, Megan. You could slice a finger off with that thing.”
He hands me what looks to be some sort of cloth.
“It’s a sheath. You keep the knife in it so you don’t...have an accident,” he explains when he sees my look of utter confusion. Duh, Megan. I take it from him and slide the knife into it. I then hand the knife back to him, not trusting myself with it.
He smiles with amusement and hangs it on the wall again.
“What are you smiling about?” I demand, almost upset. Is he amused because I’m so useless?
“Nothing. I just think it’s cute that you’re so cautious,” he muses and struggles to hide a smile from his lips.
“Well, like you said, I don’t want to cut my finger off. It scared me a little, okay? I’m not skilled with knives. You’ve seen me with my meat cleaver.”
“I don’t remember what it was like to feel scared while handling a knife, and I hate to take that innocence away from you. I like your innocence,” he replies sadly, his smile faltering.
“Is that what this is about? Preserving my innocence?” I demand. “Is that why you’re being so protective?” Why am I so edgy today?
“No.” This is all he says, like the topic isn’t up for debate.
I’m incredibly thirsty. I lick my lips, they’re chapped from dehydration.
He gestures to the doorway when my stomach rumbles loudly, I hope that he doesn’t hear it, but then he laughs loudly. “Hungry?”
“I’m fine,” I lie. Apparently I’m both thirsty and starving.
“I have super hearing, Megan, your stomach’s been rumbling since you woke up. Do you take me for a fool?” he teases and ruffles my hair as if I’m a little girl. I glare at him and roll my eyes. “I even have blueberry muffins upstairs.”
At the thought of blueberry muffins, my stomach growls furiously, and I begin salivating like a loser.
“Okay, I’m down,” I agree finally and begin for the door.
“Thought so,” he mutters and guides me back to the stairs we just came down. “Milk or orange juice today?”
“Orange juice, please,” I answer, my stomach going into a frenzy. “Do you have any coffee? I know I slept for like...ever...but I’m still exhausted.”
“I do. Your body took quite the beating with that brass. I don’t blame you for being exhausted. That would take a lot out of anyone, let alone, someone with demon blood.”
Each time Crispen says the word ‘demon’, his jaw clenches. Can someone really feel that amount of hatred for something? I mean, I’m not a demon fan obviously, but Crispen seems almost run by his hatred for them.
I mentally do a fist pump while picturing my upcoming breakfast. Finally, something that makes my life a little better. My favorite thing in the world—food. Food always makes things better. Okay, it doesn’t fix anything, but it makes me feel better for a moment anyways, and what I need right now is a distraction. Not that food is going to be able to take my mind off of the fact that demons and ‘hunters’ exist, not to mention the fact that I have demon blood running through my veins, but it has to at least help, doesn’t it? I know one thing for sure, it can’t make things any worse.
We head upstairs and Crispen fixes me a blueberry muffin. Well, he thaws one from the freezer for me and pours me a cup of orange juice. He also starts a pot of coffee and offers me his shower to get cleaned up. After I’ve eaten and showered, I grab the waiting mug of steaming coffee from the counter and drink it down too. Then I collapse on the white sofa with Rhino while I wait for Crispen to finish his turn in the shower. I wonder where the other two are but assume that they’ve gone down to the cellar to speak to Blayk like I was told they were going to.
Just the thought of Blayk being in the same building as me makes me want to break down and cry. I mean, my enemy is only two floors below me. How crazy is that?
“Uh... Are you okay, Megan?” Crispen asks in a tone that suggests I might be a little off my rocker if you know what I mean. He’s likely referring to the fact that I’m sitting with my eyes closed and my thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of my nose. I’m trying to make myself feel, but it’s not working. Why can’t I feel any emotion except for annoyance, anger, and happiness? I feel almost empty, like a part of me is missing. Why can’t I be scared or anxious or hurt or something?
My eyes spring open hastily, and I stare up at him in disbelief. How can someone move so quietly? “Yes, I’m fine. Just meditating,” I attempt to cover up my strange behavior. Meditating? Really, Megan? Is that the best that you can come up with? He knows you don’t meditate, dumbass! That only made your strange behaviour seem far stranger.
“Uh...okay,” he mutters, his eyebrows merging in confusion, causing wrinkles to appear on his forehead. I’m so embarrassed that at first I don’t realize he’s completely shirtless. When I do realize though, my heart begins hammering in my chest rapidly. I try to tell myself that this is definitely not the time for me to get all worked up over something so petty. I have bigger fish to fry! My body has other plans though, and I have to work harder than should be necessary to calm my heart rate. Damn! Why does he have to be so gorgeous? Like really? Okay, so I can feel annoyance, anger, happiness, and lust. Lovely. Although I have no deep feelings for Crispen, I still feel an attraction to his body. He’s an attractive guy, and I’m well...a woman. I pull myself together, not believing how petty I’m being.
I hope he doesn’t notice my momentary gush over him. Is his hearing strong enough to hear my heartbeat? I have no idea.
“I have questions,” I blurt and finish my second cup of coffee.
His expression changes from one of confusion to one of recognition. “Of course you do. I guess now is as good of a time as any. Ask away.”
I ponder my large pile of questions. Which should I ask first? I have so many things to ask him. “What is going to happen to me? You can’t protect me forever.”
He contemplates his answer before spitting it out. “We will take care of the problem. My siblings and I will make sure that no one of threat to you knows you exist. Then, you will be free to do as you wish.”
“Okay...” I struggle for words. “...but how are you going to make sure of this?”
He swishes some juice around in his mouth before swallowing it and answering, “I’m going to kill any demon that knows you exist of course.” He says this carefully, gaging my reaction. Does that include my father? He knows I exist surely, but he never came to get me from my mother and introduce me to the demon world. Either he cared enough to let me live a human life, or he didn’t want the burden of having me around, maybe both. I’m not sure how I feel about this. What if he is somehow linked to Blayk and Landon?
Can all demons really be so terrible? I guess, judging by horror films I’ve seen, I don’t think there’s ever been a friendly one around. I think about one of my favorite TV shows Supernatural. Some of them are pretty terrible on the show but not all of them are so bad, are they? I’m not sure. How can I judge my life off of a fictional TV show though? You have to be kidding me. Megan, what are you doing right now? You know things are really fucked up when you compare your life to Supernatural.
“Would you put a shirt on?!” I demand, my eyes detouring from his eyes to his rippled stomach for the tenth time in fifteen seconds.
A smile plays across his lips. “Is this bothering you?” he motions to his half-nakedness.
I nod. “Yeah, actually, a little,” I admit.
He shrugs. “I know I’m hot, Megan, but I wouldn’t think that would be a problem for you right now. Don’t you have more important things on your plate to be concerned about?” His arrogance surprises me, because I haven’t really heard this side of his personality in a few days. He’s not always cocky and arrogant, but every once in awhile he says something that makes my jaw drop.
“Yeah, you would think, but here you are, messing with my mojo!” I blab, not even making much sense. My mojo? What the hell is mojo? What does that even mean?
Crispen cocks an eyebrow at me and then walks casually down the hallway. He returns a few moments later fully clothed. “Is this better?”
I nod. “Yeah, thanks.”
“Keep the questions coming,” he urges while picking up a banana, opening it, and then biting into it.
“Tell me about yourself,” I decide after a moment. It isn’t a question, but it’s something I need to know. “Like about you and what you are.”
He takes another large bite of his banana and then tosses the peel into the trash. He looks to me, bites his cheek nervously, and then nods. “Okay, what do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
He chuckles. “Okay, well, I was born on May 2, 1687, so technically, I’m over three centuries old, but I have not physically or mentally aged past twenty-five since that was the age which I became immortal. My parents were Anna and Thomas Desmond. My sister received my mother’s name as her middle name; my brother received my father’s name as his middle name. My middle name comes from my grandfather Alexander. My father was a businessman. To this day, I’m not sure what exactly it was he did. My mother stayed home with us kids. It’s hard to remember them and photographs didn’t really exist back then. Of course many people had paintings done, but our parents never did. I recall that my mother looked a lot like Aria and my father was tall, broad, and stern. My mother loved to bake, whereas my father loved to spend his time working.” Crispen stops to clear his throat. His eyes are in another time, they’re blank as he goes back centuries.
“I remember very little. It was a long time ago. A very long time ago. Three centuries ago. You have no idea how long that is,” he mutters and shakes his head. “I remember the pain I felt while being made into what I am. I also remember the pain afterwards.” Crispen almost winces as if he’s experiencing the pain all over again. “Mason left out some of the gory details about how we came to be what we are today. Mason was created using an elixir and magic that to this day I don’t understand. I must believe in magic, I’ve seen it in action after all, but it’s hard sometimes. I’ve only really seen it once and that was centuries ago. It seems like a dream now.”
He pulls open a drawer and removes a few large plastic bags full of leaves. “These are the herbs we use to make the brass harmful to demons and halflings. Some are fairly common like sage, others are a little more difficult to find. They were especially hard to find centuries ago before all of these big department stores started popping up with everything from goldfish to patio furniture to pancakes. It was a different world back then, there’s no way to explain it to you.” Crispen begins preparing a mixture of the herbs as if he’s going to make up a batch of demon killing weapons right now. “Like I said before, this isn’t magic. It’s just a mixture of herbs. I can’t help but wonder if the magic in the elixir that made Mason immortal was also no more than mere herbs.” He’s silent a moment as he throws some herbs together into a small bowl and then wraps it in plastic wrap. “Like Mason said, the alchemists were wiped out by 1740. Any trace of magic that there once may have been, it’s gone now.”
For some reason, the thought that magic existed once long ago really doesn’t seem that far-fetched. Maybe it’s because, like Crispen said, it’s impossible for me to imagine what things might have been like back then. When I try to imagine it, I see things like the Salem witch trials and people thinking that the earth was flat. It was an entirely different time, almost another world completely. Maybe, if that type of magic existed today, or if modern science existed back then, there would be some sort of scientific explanation for it all.
“Anyways,” he continues. “The process of becoming what we are wasn’t just a simple thing. After Mason became a hunter, he was crazed with hunger. It was a hunger that regular food couldn’t quench.”
I think back to some sappy vampire movie I watched with Crispen a few weeks ago and nearly blanch. “Are you about to tell me that you guys are vampires?” I spit out.
Crispen looks at me like I’m an idiot and squints at me as if trying to see through my stupidity. Then his face smooths over, and he bursts out laughing. “Vampires, Megan? Really? Of course not! Vampires don’t exist.” He says this as if it’s common knowledge. Well, not long ago, I thought demons weren’t real, so this doesn’t seem like such a crazy idea.
I scowl at him and his laughing comes to an end.
“This hunger that Mason had, it was for murder. He couldn’t stop thinking about demons. He wanted them all dead more than anything. Anger and vengeance took over him. After he made Aria and myself like him by mixing his blood with ours, we were taken over by this strong urge as well. All three of us lost ourselves for a time and when we finally learnt to deal with the lust to kill and were able to manage regular thought, we were changed people and nearly fifty years had somehow passed.”
I wince. I can’t imagine being controlled by anger. I do such stupid things when I’m angry. I would probably blow up buildings and lose my temper on small things like my toast not popping fast enough.
“Obviously the pull to kill is still in us, ingrained to our very core, but we are able to control it now, though sometimes we still lose control. By killing demons often, we are able to keep a firmer hold on ourselves,” Crispen says sounding sad. He rolls an apple around in his palms. “Over time we discovered our new abilities. We learnt that we were extremely fast, strong, quick thinking, and our hearing was extremely improved. One thing that did not come with what we were, was our ability to fight. We didn’t gain this knowledge or experience until years later. It’s a good thing that the demons didn’t know our weaknesses back then, because we wouldn’t have lasted long.” Crispen throws some dirty dishes from breakfast into the dishwasher behind him. “We created more like us, lots more, because the demon population was skyrocketing, as if they were making some sort of army.”
I adjust my position on the couch so that I’m no longer looking at Crispen but rather at the roof. I lie down on my back as he continues again, and I take it all in with interest. “They did eventually find our weakness though. We took demons down as fast as they took us down. Then a few decades ago, the demons went nearly silent. Their population came to a low and so did our own population. The further down the line the new hunters were, the weaker they were, and the easier to kill. Some became more like the humans than like my siblings and I. They could be killed as easily as any human, some even aged. So, without the stronger of us hunters making more hunters, the population dropped as they one by one were killed off by demons. We haven’t made a new hunter in decades, because we haven’t had to with the low demon rates, and we don’t dare damn someone to this life for fun. It is not a simple life nor an easy one. I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone. There are only a few handfuls of us left around the world.” This all seems like a fictional story, not a darn history lesson.
Crispen stands up straighter and begins flipping through a newspaper on the counter. I can see him from the corner of my eye.
“What?” Crispen asks as if he’s talking to himself. I wonder if he’s seen something in the paper that has lead him to speak to himself. I do that sometimes. Call me crazy.
A moment of silence.
“No, don’t kill him. I want my turn to try getting something out of him first,” he grumbles. I sit up and look to him, wondering if he’s talking on his cell phone.
Moments later, Aria is in the room, Mason tailing her. I realize that the three of them are having a conversation. One of which, I can only hear half of.
“You may as well go take your turn now then,” Aria suggests. I notice that black ink-like splotches are all over her clothes and same with Mason’s.
“You have demon blood all over you guys. Is there anything left of him for me to deal with?” Crispen asks humorously. “Jesus. Did you tear him apart?” Demon blood? I come to the conclusion that demons have black blood. For some reason this grosses me out more than red blood would have.
“Pretty much. The fucker won’t say a word,” Mason shouts angrily and throws a knife down onto the table. “He keeps saying his father will kill him if he talks. I don’t think he gets that we’ll kill him if he doesn’t talk.”
“Easy with the foul language, buddy. There are ladies present,” Crispen warns with a death glare, and he looks to me.
Mason follows his gaze. “Sorry, Megan,” he grunts and then offers a light smile.
“Hey, I’m also a lady. Why aren’t you apologizing to me?” Aria demands, pushing his shoulder and scowling at him.
“Oh, really? You’re a lady? I never would’ve guessed,” Mason teases. Before I have the chance to comprehend what’s happening, the knife that Mason set down is suddenly in his shoulder blade.
I gasp loudly and jump off of the couch. Crispen looks to me with apology in his eyes.
Aria giggles, and I come to the conclusion that she is the culprit. Blood runs down his back. Crispen rounds the room and yanks the knife from his brother’s back effortlessly.
“Cut it out, you two, you’re going to frighten Megan,” Crispen warns harshly, sending scowls in both of their directions.
Aria and Mason exchange a look which can only be described as a ‘this isn’t over’ glare.
Blood stops flowing from Mason’s shoulder blade, and I let out a sigh of relief. I will never get used to that whole abnormally fast healing thing, or the whole having friendly knife fights in the front room thing. I find myself staring at all of the blood on his shirt and the drops that have made it to the floor. Staring at it makes me queasy, suddenly I’m insanely dizzy. Maybe it’s the blood and everything going on inside my head, I don’t know, but next thing I know, everything goes black.
