Abe’s face was the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes. Grizzled and sporting several days growth of stubble, his eyes were bloodshot and bore dark rings around them as though he’d barely slept. I groaned and a smile formed on his lips.
“You okay kid?”
“Not sure,” I said as he held out a hand to me. I grasped it and he practically hauled me to my feet. “What happened… oh!”
The feet of the man who’d attacked me were sticking out from the crushed pile of boxes and Abe glanced over his shoulder to where I looked. He nodded sagely and his smile remained, though I thought perhaps it wavered a little.
“You certainly made a mess,” he said.
“Crap! I did that didn’t I?” he nodded and I reached up to grab a handful of hair, but of course it was too damn short. “How did I do that?”
“We can talk about that later,” he said. “For now, we need to get as far from here as possible.”
“No way! We need to call the police.”
“They won’t be much use to you and what’re you going to say to them?”
“I don’t know, I mean… oh crap.”
“Indeed,” he agreed. “Come on, van’s parked out front.”
“How did you get here?” I asked as he led me back towards the door. I caught one glimpse of the body as I passed and fought back the sudden urge to gag as I saw the hollowed out sockets where his eyes had been.
“Arrived just as… well, just as you did what you did at the end there.”
“You saw?” I asked and he nodded. “But you didn’t kill me.”
“Aye,” he replied by way of acknowledgement and refused to say more though the corners of his mouth turned upwards in a faint smile.
Several faces turned our way as we entered the warehouse, the door slamming shut behind us with a loud bang. I cringed as Mark turned to watch us but he didn’t say anything as Abe led me straight past him.
“What did you say to him?” I whispered as we walked through the busy supermarket.
“Told him I was your uncle and it was a family emergency,” he said and I groaned.
“They know I’m an orphan!”
“Won’t matter after they go out back,” he said. “Doubt you’ll still have a job.”
“Crap!”
He looked back at me over his shoulder with one eyebrow cocked and I shrugged in response. I needed that job and I really didn’t need the police questioning me about a dead body. About someone I killed. Nausea surged inside of me again and I fought it back down, telling myself he wasn’t a nice person or even human. I think.
“What was he?” I asked as we climbed into Abe’s van.
“Probably a ghoul,” he said as pulled on his seatbelt and started the van. It came to life with a gurgling roar that didn’t sound at all healthy or safe.
“I’ve heard of them. They live in graveyards and eat the dead.”
“Pah! That’s just folklore,” he said. “You should forget all that nonsense because it barely scratches the surface. Ghouls can take human form, usually that of their latest victim. They like to play with their food a bit before eating and they’re viciously cruel.”
“It said it could smell me,” I said as he set off through the car park, eyes fixed firmly on the road. “Said it knew I wasn’t human and that wolves had stopped it feeding.”
“Aye, the wolves are pissed about the one I killed,” Abe admitted.
“What wolves?”
“There’s a pack that live around here. Like to go up on the moors to run during a full moon. They’re probably more upset that there was a man killer in the area and they didn’t get to deal with it.”
“I thought you hunted werewolves,” I said.
“If they kill people,” he said firmly. “If they keep to themselves and don’t harm anyone. I’m not wasting my time going after them. Now hush, I need to concentrate on where I’m going. We can talk more when we get there.”
His mouth was set in a thin line and the knuckles of his hands were white where he gripped the steering wheel. He seemed on edge and I figured it was best not to argue since I had no other idea what to do.
My phone beeped and I pulled it from the waistband, amazed it hadn’t fallen out already, and read the brief text from Evie confirming we were still on to meet. I sent back an apology and said I’d call her later before I turned it off.
We passed the rest of the journey in silence as we moved from the city, out to the suburbs and then beyond. Rather than watch the occasional field of cows or sheep, I tried to figure out what the hell had happened back at the supermarket.
The man, or perhaps ghoul’s, face had looked normal some of the time and not at others. I wondered at first if it was supposed to be like that, or perhaps I could only see it at certain times and then it hit me. Each time its face had distorted had been when it was touching me.
It had said that it could smell me, smell some difference that marked me out as not quite human. Perhaps, when it touched me, that distortion was my way of seeing its difference. I glanced over to Abe and decided I’d ask him about it.
“We’re here,” he said before I could speak and as he slowed the van, I glanced through the window.
Fields, trees and rising hills all around us were all I could see. We were on a winding road, wide enough for one vehicle at a time with moss covered walls and overgrown bushes running alongside. A short distance along the road, a wide gate of wrought iron was set into the wall.
It opened as we approached, sliding to one side silently by means of some hidden mechanism and the van turned smoothly into a wide driveway. Wider than the road we’d just been on.
At the end of the driveway was a house, more of a mansion in fact. It was certainly larger than any house I’d ever called home and I was pretty sure that my current home was smaller than the entranceway.
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The van pulled to a stop on the gravelled drive and Abe gestured for me to get out as he turned off the engine and climbed out himself.
My feet crunched on the gravel as I dropped down and as I wondered where the hell we were, the front doors of the mansion opened wide. A heavyset woman in a purple cardigan and ankle length, floral skirt waved me forward.
She had a wide, welcoming smile and round face with a hawk-like nose that seemed totally at odds. Her hair, swept up in a bun, was fading to grey and she wore enough jewellery to be assured of imminent robbery if she ever walked down the street near my bedsit.
“Abraham,” she said in a voice that was so smooth as to be almost sensual. It was the type of voice you could listen to as you sank into a comfortable and relaxing slumber. “It’s been too long.”
“Marie,” he greeted with a nod.
“Is this the young lady you spoke to me about?” she asked and I blinked. He’d spoken to someone about me?
“Aye, best get inside,” he said. “Things have become awkward.”
“Of course. Come on in, Peter is waiting.”
She moved to the side, one hand on the door to hold it open as she ushered us inside. I followed after Abe and tried not to gawp at the house.
Everything seemed so clean, in a way that I knew my place never would. The hardwood floors positively gleamed while the brass fittings around the lights, even those over the framed art, appeared golden, they were that polished.
A patterned carpet in red and gold rose up the centre of the stairs that led up to the next floor and once again, I was fairly certain that any one piece of the delicate looking furniture would cost more than I paid in rent for the year.
It was the sort of furniture and decorative art that would be handed down for generations. Expensive as hell and made to last forever, unlike the stuff I bought. I was at once jealous and at the same time, terrified of touching anything lest I leave a mark or god forbid, break something.
Marie led us along a side hallway and into a room that I guessed to be some sort of study. The walls were all wood paneled and mahogany bookcases filled all available space. An elaborately carved fireplace was set into the center of the far wall, while several leather upholstered chairs were placed around the room.
A man sat behind a desk, his back to a window that rose all the way to the ceiling. The view through the window was breath-taking, rolling hills and fields beyond the immaculate garden with all manner of brightly coloured flowers.
The man, I assumed was Peter, looked up as we entered. Watery eyes stared out from behind thick glasses. His skin was blotchy and hung loose as though he’d lost a great deal of weight lately. The top of his head seemed to rise through his hair, rather than his hair receding.
He studied us as Marie closed the door quietly behind us and with a quick, almost abrupt gesture, he indicated we take a seat before him.
“Been a long time Abraham,” the old man said in a voice that quavered with age.
“Nearly twenty years,” Abe agreed.
“Should have been longer,” Peter said with a sneer. “What do you want?”
“This girl,” he said and indicated me. “She’s different.”
“Different how?”
“She’s Shadowborn.”
I looked at Abe and my surprise must have been plain to see because the old man let out a guffaw and snorted.
“Didn’t tell her?” Peter said. “Typical of you and your need for secrets.”
Abe shrugged, not at all repentant and said, “I’d have told her today but a ghoul noticed her.”
“Pfah, dirty creatures. I take it you saw it off?”
“She did.”
The old man turned his attention to me fully and a crease appeared on his brow. He rapped the desk with the knuckles of his right hand and nodded slowly.
“How?” he asked.
I opened my mouth to answer, but he’d already turned his gaze back to Abe and I shut it as I crossed my arms beneath my breasts and sank further down into the chair with a pout.
“Darkness flowed from her hands,” Abe said softly and the old man flicked his glance back towards me, appraising. “Burnt out the ghoul’s eyes, filled its throat and wrapped it tight. Then she threw it across several metres of concrete.”
“Powerful,” Peter muttered. “A long time since one of her type has been seen.”
“One of what kind?” I asked and both men turned to me.
“Your father was a demon, girl,” the old man said with a cackle.
“A demon?” I asked. “Really? Does that mean I’m evil? Am I the only one?”
“Not that uncommon,” he said with a wave. “You’re no evil now than you were five minutes ago, so if you weren’t then, you aren’t now.”
“Yeah, but a demon? My dad was a demon… from hell?”
“There are different types of demon,” Abe said. “Most, when they claw their way out of hell, need a body. They possess someone and go on a rampage of rape, murder and the rest.”
“My dad didn’t do that…”
“Your dad wasn’t your father,” Peter said dismissively. “He raised you, but a demon sired you on your mother.”
“You’re saying one of these… things, possessed someone and…”
“Not necessarily,” Abe interrupted. “Not all demons go wild, some of the older ones come to this reality for a specific purpose. They’re summoned and are usually much more controlled.”
“Older,” the old man added. “Think, before the Fall, type of older.”
“The Fall?”
“The war in heaven girl! Do you know nothing?”
“Careful,” Abe said to him warningly before turning back to me. “It took me a while because I wasn’t sure of your powers.”
“Powers?”
“Yes.” He sighed and ran one hand through his hair before scratching at his chin and looking to the old man for support. He got none. “Anyone born of a union between human and demon will be born with some gifts. Occasionally useful, usually destructive.”
“The sort of gift that gets you noticed by Hunters,” the old man added.
“Indeed,” Abe said. “Those sired by demons usually have some problems associated with their origin. It can lead to some lack of control.”
“You’ve been having nightmares?” The old man asked and I nodded.
“For years though.”
“Worse now, heh?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
“From what I’ve seen of your gifts,” Abe continued. “The demon that sired you must have been incredibly ancient.”
“Which means what?”
“That it had enough control and a purpose, that your mother wasn’t raped,” he said. “The demon may have possessed your dad, or someone else, but the union was probably consensual.”
“Okay,” I said. “You’re trying to make me feel a little better, I get it.”
“Not just that,” the old man said and cackled loudly. “It means that you won’t have that same infectious chaos of the wilder demons. You’re less likely to go out on a killing spree like they would be.”
“Oh.”
It was a great deal to take in and I knew I’d need some time to fully process it. One thing I did need to know was what it meant for me in the immediate future.
“The hunters will have no need to come for you,” Abe said as though reading my mind. “Even we acknowledge that the Shadowborn can be useful.”
“You’ve said that before,” I said. “Shadowborn, what does it mean?”
“Demons are creatures of the chaos realms,” the old man said. “When they come to this reality, they lose their physical bodies and become little more than malevolent shadows. That’s why they need to possess humans to make their mischief. Anyone birthed by them are called Shadowborn in reference to their sire’s form.”
“So what now? How are Shadowborn useful?”
“Many of the monsters out there can pass for human,” Abe said. “Some of them, like the ghoul you met, have means of detecting other supernatural creatures. Shadowborn have something similar.”
“Like when it touched me and I saw its face change?”
“Eh?” Peter said. “What’s this?”
I explained about the change I had seen and how I thought it was because it was touching me that I could see it. He listened intently and nodded several times, finally speaking as I finished.
“Yes, yes, that’s it alright. With time and practice, you might be able to see the difference without needing to touch them.”
“But for now,” Abe said. “If you’re close enough to touch them, they’re close enough to harm you.”
“So I need to improve, get stronger?” I asked as I looked from one man to the other. “But why? To defend myself?”
“Not all hunters follow the same creed,” the old man said. “Some will just see your difference and try to kill you anyway. Other supernaturals will see your power and want to use it or destroy it. Either way, just by reaching a certain age you become a target.”
“Certain age?”
“Twenty-one,” Abe said. “Most of the Shadowborn fully come into their power between eighteen and twenty-one. You’re almost there aren’t you?”
“Next month,” I agreed. “I turn twenty-one next month.”
“There’s another reason too,” Abe said softly as the door opened behind us and Marie came in with a tray bearing a tea service and cups. “The creature that killed your parents is out there. Most who survive such an attack tend to gravitate towards hunting. Usually for revenge.”
“About that,” I said. “I remembered the name.”
“What was it?” Abe asked as he leaned toward me. There was an eagerness there that I hadn’t seen before and a desperation that even the old man picked up judging by the strange look he was giving the other man.
“Sephtis,” I said and saw the colour drain from Abe’s face as the crash of a tray being dropped echoed around the room.