“Hey, Catherine? Pass the remote.”

“Grandpa, you knocked it on the floor, again? Just pick it up, it’s right by your feet.”

“But, my back hurts…”

Tired of the old man’s whining, Catherine got up from her groove in the sofa, slumped over to her grandpa’s chair and handed him his precious remote. The old man had a satisfied look, clearly blessed by his retirement, not that he wasn’t already like this before, but it was nice to finally have an excuse.

“Thank you, dear.” He humbly praised.

“I don’t recall the doctor saying your back pain was this bad.”

“It depends on how comfy I am.”

With the remote firmly within his grasp, Grandpa was ready to spend the rest of the night channel surfing, that was until his lovely wife called for him in the kitchen.

“Harold! The sink’s blocked again!”

“The plunger’s under the sink, Anne!”

“I tried that already! You come have a go!”

“But, I have to rest my back!”

“You’re not crippled, Harold! Get in here!”

“Oh, bugger…”

Harold pulled himself up, unable to exaggerate his back pain any longer, passing the remote back to Catherine. “Here you go, this might take a while.”

Catherine was left alone in the living room, the power of the remote lying in her lap. She mindlessly skimmed through the channels, but nothing interested her.

“Man, when you can watch anything you want on the internet, TV just doesn’t cut it anymore. But, since I’ve already gotten myself comfy, I guess you’re making a temporary comeback.”

She continued flicking through channels until she landed on the news. The presenter seemed to be in a debate with a cloaked cultist over the current issue of demon attacks transpiring throughout the country. On the one side, the strange guest argued that demons simply needed to be shown kindness and compassion instead of resistance and that the population would be better off if they were more open towards letting demons into their lives.

The presenter disagreed, arguing the contrary, that demons were monsters with no respect for humanity, who deserved nothing but contempt. Any kindness shown towards them would be taken advantage of and would lead to unnecessary suffering.

These were the two sides dominating the discussion surrounding the demon issue that had engulfed the news media over the past few years. Absolute altruism and idealism versus adamant opposition and pessimism.

When Catherine first heard that demons other than herself had appeared, she was thrilled, but that quickly turned to fear when all she saw were monsters destroying people’s lives. She felt caught in the middle of a war she never wanted any part of.

As the debate continued, the men grew more detestable. The guest’s idealistic preaching sounded nice, but offered no real solutions to the problem, offended by the very idea of humanity fighting back against their invaders. He seemed more interested in looking righteous and just, their reputation being their top priority.

No amount of lofty preaching or moral grandstanding would change the fact that there were demons that killed and destroyed just for the pleasure of it, treating humanity like an infestation that needed exterminating.

Catherine had already come to terms with the reality of the situation and watching the pompous preacher ignore these issues, to save his own ego, infuriated her.

The presenter was no better. While he provided a more realistic take, he still perpetuated the narrative that all demons were evil scum that needed to be destroyed. The public were already terrified and this fear mongering only served to make life more difficult for everyone, breeding paranoia among the populace.

She never cared for the media’s opinion. Catherine never looked down on humans as inferior beings. Her own grandparents were human, they may not be related by blood, but she still loved them anyway. But, not caring didn’t change the reality she lived in. A reality where all demons were seen as enemies or worshipped by fanatics. A reality where she had to keep her true self hidden for fear of her life and her family’s.

Stuck on the sidelines, Catherine could only watch as the two ideological extremes clashed over and over again, deepening the divide between the people, with moderate voices drowned out and ignored. Whichever side won, Catherine lost. Her grandpa returned and gently held her shaking hand.

“Cathy, your eyes are turning red.”

Catherine’s eyes became scarlet whenever she was especially upset. Even if she tried to hide it, her demonic nature would always find a way to seep through her human facade, but after being comforted by her grandpa, she soon calmed down and returned to normal.

“Sorry… these stupid assholes pissed me off…”

Harold looked over at the TV. “What are you watching this crap for? This is just tabloid nonsense. You know the people that go on these shows just talk bollocks for a living.”

“I just sorta stumbled onto it.”

“Well, don’t let it get to you. Most people aren’t stupid enough to believe everything these idiots say.”

“Yeah… doesn’t change the fact that I have to keep it a secret. God knows what would happen if anyone found out I was a demon…”

“Maybe a nice walk will help you let off some steam.”

“Why a walk?”

“Well, how else are you going to get the sink cleaner?”

He gave Catherine a handful of money. “Pawning your chores off on me again?”

“Yep.” Harold laughed to himself. “But, seriously, the fresh air will do you good. Take your mind off all this demon shite.”

“Alright, I’ll head out then.”

Whenever she ventured outside, Catherine always made sure to keep her demon parts covered. This meant wearing her beanie hat to cover her horns, along with an extra layer of bandages around her head, in case the beanie somehow fell off, as well as wrapping her tail around her waist, disguising it as a belt and of course, keeping her temper under control to avoid the red eyes.

Disguising herself wasn’t an issue, but changing her behaviour slowly wore her spirit down over the years. Always presenting herself as an almost emotionless, anti-social husk, just to keep her true feelings from accidentally exposing her demonic nature. At the store, Catherine wandered over to the cleaning products, but was faced with a conundrum.

“Crap. Was there a specific brand Grandma wanted, or…? Aw fuck it, I’ll just take this one.” She grabbed her cleaner and headed to the counter, but stopped as it came into view.

“Dammit.” She muttered. “Gerry’s working the counter again. I don't wanna deal with his shit right now…”

Gerry, the twenty year old doofus who believed he was a hit with the ladies. There was only one way out of this predicament and it wasn’t pretty.

“I’ll have to use the self-checkout.”

Catherine steeled herself for the battle ahead. She snuck over to the machine, ready to roll the dice on whether the damn thing would work or spit in her face, refusing to accept anything but the highest quality of barcodes to scan.

She scanned the sink cleaner and it was thankfully approved, passing the first stage. She confirmed her purchase and payment option using the touch screen buttons. They were sticky and required an excessive amount of force to register any of her inputs, but after tapping the screen repeatedly, she finally forced her way through.

Gerry hadn’t noticed her yet and all she had left to do was hand over the cash. She inserted the pound coins into the slot and finished her purchase, as the change jingled into the slot below, Catherine readied her bag, took her receipt, crumpled it up, tossed it and placed her sink cleaner in the bag.

Suddenly, there was a ringing sound, a dull siren calling out to any nearby employees. Spooked, she looked up and saw the light next to the machine blinking, exposing her position.

“Are you fucking-!”

“Hey, it’s you again.” Gerry greeted.

Catherine was beyond mad, she couldn’t believe her god-awful luck, but she couldn’t show it, lest she destroy the machine in a demonic rage. She had no choice but to bottle up her fury.

“H-hey…”

“Having trouble with the auto-checkout again?”

“Ye-yeah…”

“This thing’s always playing up. You should have just come to me from the start.”

“...”

“Let’s see… I think the weight measurer for the bagging area is what’s causing it, let's just turn the alarm off and I’ll let you go.”

“Thanks…”

“No problem… so, just sink cleaner, huh? Having trouble with your plumbing, or something?”

“Yeah…”

“Yeah… you know… I know a thing or two about plumbing, maybe I can come over and take a look sometime… if you want…”

“Uh… that’s okay, I should really be going.”

“Oh, sure… come again.”

Catherine exited the store, as red as her hair, embarrassed beyond words. It happened every time. What Gerry mistook for shy infatuation was just Catherine trying to keep her emotions in check. She felt terrible for accidentally leading him on like that, but she couldn’t think of any other way to handle the situation.

It was already night time when she left, but now it was really late. Still, at times when she needed cooling off, she took the long way home, to the enclosed field by the Donnington boating club, without even thinking of the possible dangers.

The sounds of the river and the surrounding trees made it feel like her own hidden sanctuary, away from the rest of the world. However, with the current demon problem came the advent of opportunistic criminals taking advantage of the demon’s presence to commit crimes and cover them up as demon attacks and Catherine’s hidden sanctuary had been desecrated by such a ploy.

Shrouded by the shade of the trees Catherine discovered a body, laying still in the fallen leaves. Concerned, she checked on them, but they were already dead. She felt sick, this was the first time she'd ever seen a real corpse. However, touching the man caused the skin on his cheek to melt and stick to her fingers. She freaked out and flicked it off.

Catherine didn’t understand what happened, but she instinctively reached out as the man’s skin bubbled slightly in response. She didn’t know why, but she was somehow manipulating the man’s dead cells through some kind of innate demonic power.

“Who’s there!?”

A hooded thug appeared behind her. As they came closer, Catherine showed no fear. Her body was far stronger than any humans, but she still preferred to avoid any kind of physical confrontation. She wasn’t sure to what extent her powers could be used, nor did she want to find out.

The man pulled out his knife. “Excuse me, but could we talk for a moment?”

“Pretty brazen of you to jump straight to whipping out a weapon like that.” Catherine stated, unimpressed.

“Well, you’re pretty brazen coming into my territory at this hour. You new here?”

“No, I’ve lived here a while.”

“Oh… well you must have been living under a rock. You haven’t heard the rumours?”

“I’m not a fan of gossip.”

“Or, maybe you just don’t get out much.”

“What!?”

“Calm down, lady, or the scary knife demon that haunts the forest at night might get you.”

“Knife demon?”

“Yeah… they say it shows up and demands an offering from its victims, if they ever get near its territory. Those that refuse, end up like that poor soul over there. Tragic really.”

“Sounds more like the work of a deranged psychopath.”

“Deranged!?”

“Yeah, a disturbed killer, taking advantage of a shitty situation to cover up his crimes, because he’s too scared to face the consequences of his actions.”

“Scared!? You bitch!” The man punched Catherine in the face, knocking her on top of the body.

"I was just going to rob you and cut you a little, but maybe I should do the world a favour and shut that mouth of yours!”

In a rage, the man threw his arm down to penetrate Catherine’s chest with his knife, but on reflex, she caught his hand, stopping him.

“What the fuck!? I can’t-! My wrist!”

Catherine had no clue what to do next, she couldn’t fight him, but she had to defend herself somehow. Without thinking, she gathered dead cells from the victim beneath her and forged them into a claw on her hand.

Thankfully, before she was forced to use it, a couple of police officers emerged from the bushes and knocked the man down, cuffing him. One of the officers quickly comforted Catherine, as she hid her grotesque claw in her jeans, the dead cells slipping off like a glove. She was confused by the officer’s sudden appearance.

“I’m sorry! We shouldn’t have let that go on longer than it should have!”

“Wait… what?”

“We heard a commotion, but we were in the middle of another investigation. But, once we heard signs of a struggle we had to step in.”

“Oh… okay…?”

“Thank God. Thanks to you, we finally found our killer. Please, just get home safe. We can talk about this tomorrow.”

“Sure… right…”

The officers escorted the criminal out of the park, although when they got to the car, the man was still clutching his wrist in agony, leaving them baffled. They were also confused by the lump of flesh just sitting in the grass, certain that it wasn't there when they first arrived.

Catherine was left even more agitated than before. The police officers treated her like a defenseless child. She knew they were only doing their job, unaware of her personal issues, but it still hurt. She could have easily defeated the thug, but if she did, then she’d be the criminal, the demon assaulting a human. Not to mention her strange powers she just discovered. The power to manipulate dead skin, a truly revolting power befitting a demon.

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Once home, Catherine left the sink cleaner on the kitchen counter and went to her room. Laying on her bed after a stressful night, she unravelled her tail, staring up at it, as she aimlessly waved it over her face.

“Cathy.” Her grandmother asked, letting herself in. “Is your tail cramping up again?”

“Yeah… you’d think I’d be used to wearing it like a belt by now, but it still gets sore after a while.”

“I keep telling you, putting it down your trouser leg would be more comfortable.”

“Too risky. I’ll stick with the belt strategy.”

“Fine, whatever you think is best.”

Catherine let out a saddened sigh, rolling over on her side. “I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Pretending to be human. Hiding myself from the rest of society. Scared of being seen as a monster.”

“I thought you wanted to keep your demon self a secret?”

“Not if the alternative is just being miserable.”

“Then, maybe it’s time to stop hiding. Maybe we’ve sheltered you too much and you just need to start being honest with people and prove to them that there are demons out there that aren’t monsters.”

“Like that’ll work, they may act nice in real life, but on the internet everyone’s thoughts are unfiltered. Humans despise us and I don’t blame them. The Birmingham incident was the last straw. Demons are monsters. I never wanted anyone to fear me, or pity me, or feel like they have to do anything. I don’t see humans as inferior or different, we’re all just people, right?”

“Humans are tribal, Cathy. They like to stay with the people they trust and understand and are cautious around those who are different. If those outsiders are seen as enemies, then over time that thought becomes ingrained in their society, making it difficult to change their minds.

But, if you can take small steps to help them understand you better and earn their trust, then maybe our society will change for the better. After all, most people would rather welcome newcomers than fight them.

Understanding other people’s fears and proving those fears wrong and earning their respect and trust through honest effort. That's the best path to acceptance. I mean, if we can accept you then surely there have to be others out there who will accept you too.”

“I hope…”

“We’ll figure something out, but for now, try not to get too depressed about it.”

“Right, thanks… I needed that.”

“We’re always here if you need to talk.”

Her grandmother left the room, leaving Catherine alone. She always appreciated their talks and the thought of one day meeting humans as accepting as her grandparents gave her peace of mind, allowing her to sleep soundly that night. Unfortunately, that was the last pep talk they would ever have…

The next night, Catherine and her grandparents were driving home from a restaurant. It was just a small night out that turned into a nightmare when the road suddenly became shrouded in a thick mist. It was impossible to make out what was happening, so they came to a stop.

They initially thought it was smoke from a fire, but then Catherine saw it. The hulking husk of a lanky creature, emerging from the mist. Before they could even comprehend what was happening, the creature swiped at the car, tossing it several feet into the air, as it crashed through a building.

Catherine was injured, but managed to roll out of the wreckage. Though terrified for her life, she was more concerned for her grandparents well being, but it was too late, the crash killed them instantly.

No warning. No final goodbyes. Nothing. In a matter of seconds they were gone. Reduced to bloodied corpses, hanging out of the car, pierced by broken glass and crushed by debris. There was nothing she could do but stare at the gruesome scene.

As the monster entered the building, searching for survivors, Catherine had no choice but to abandon her family and escape, passing by the monster who simply watched. The monster had an otherworldly presence, with its empty eye sockets spewing fog. Most demons at least showed some familiar human or animal traits, or a motive for their actions, but this thing was a soulless killer.

All she could think to do was run home, even with the mist, she could still remember the general route to her house. Her chest tightened, her stomach ached and she couldn’t stop coughing, but she soon forced her way through the door and locked it shut. At this point her only hope was to pray the creature would leave town and forget about her.

For one week, she was trapped. The monster's presence lingered and she had to survive on whatever food she had left. The whole time, her eyes remained red, unable to revert them back to her human brown colour from all the stress and so, she simply stopped trying. She refused to cry, not until she was safe, a promise she made to herself to give herself strength, but she couldn’t keep her word and teared up during the lonely, fearful nights.

Eventually, she had no choice, but to venture outside and attempt a journey to the store to stock up on food. Luckily, she didn’t encounter the monster, but she discovered plenty of corpses, littering the streets. There was no annoying cashier to greet or embarrass her, just the occasional body that seemed to have been beaten and tossed around.

Whatever that thing was, it was vicious and it was safe to assume, from the silence, that no one in town was left alive and that the only reason Catherine hadn’t perished with them was because of her own natural demonic resilience.

However, the journey home proved too much even for her. She tried carrying bags of food, but her body soon caved in to the infectious smog and she was forced to abandon them if she wanted to make it home alive.

The closer she got, the worse the pain became, like her ribcage was collapsing. She was suffocating, but refused to stop moving. However, despite her best efforts, she fell just outside her garden gate. She couldn’t move anymore. She focused what little energy she had left on staying alive, but it wouldn’t be long before she too succumbed to the deadly mist.

At this point, she was awaiting death, her life, as far as she was concerned was over. Then from nowhere, a man in a white coat passed by. She didn’t know at the time, but reaching out to that man, in a desperate cry for help would change her life forever.

Drifter, the most dangerous human a demon could encounter, saved Catherine’s life, only to soon discover her true nature. Were it not for Locke’s intervention, she would have died that day, too.

From that point on, Catherine could never return to her normal human life, not while Drifter knew of her existence, so she turned to the last person she could trust. A demon she'd known since she was a child, Locke.

After retreating from Drifter into the demon world, Locke informed Catherine of who Drifter was and the source of his power, the Legendary Demon Sword, CORE. As well as how demons were attracted to the weapon, which may explain the sudden appearance of the mist demon.

As they conversed, Locke led Catherine outside the gates of a small castle. At the top of a large peak, surrounded by a chasm of darkness. Having reached the castle, their conversation shifted to the matter at hand.

“There’s no one around?” Catherine wondered.

“Yes. It seems Nahas’ men have already left.” Locke answered

“But, where to?”

“According to the rumours, an island in the South of England.”

“Wouldn’t want to be those guys…”

“What’s important now, is that we’ve finally found his resting place.”

“A castle in the middle of nowhere?”

“Yes. Imprisoned in his own kingdom for the past five years.”

“How did you not figure this out sooner?”

“Gathering information after his defeat was near impossible. If I hadn’t heard the rumours of Nahas' men’s disappearance, I would have never even considered returning here.”

“Can I help free him?”

“You’ve been through enough. You should return to the human world.”

“No! There’s no reason for me to go back there! Not as a human!”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m tired of pretending to be something I’m not! Tired of holding myself back! I want to embrace my demon heritage! I want to know the real me!”

“Catherine. Demons are proud, competitive creatures. For over a millennia we’ve lived with a ‘might makes right’ mantra, but you’re different. You lived with the humans and learned both kindness and cautiousness. In other words, you’re not blinded by your own sense of pride. Are you truly willing to throw all that away, just to become another demon?”

“I’m not throwing it away. I just want to discover what I am.”

“The only way you can accomplish such a goal is to stay in the demon world, alone. Survive in the wasteland, teetering on the brink of death and only then will your dormant instincts finally awaken, but, I can’t guarantee your safety. You could die out there. Do you have the tenacity to risk your life, on just a hunch?”

“After everything that’s happened, I don’t have much of a life left to live. Please, I can’t ignore this nagging voice crying in my demon heart! I need to know!”

“Very well. I'll keep watch over you at first, in case you change your mind, but once I'm gone, that's when the real test starts."

Of course, understanding her demon powers wasn’t her only goal, Catherine wanted to become stronger so she could one day challenge the man in the white coat. The one who inadvertently, yet carelessly ruined her life.

“THAT’S FUCKING BULLSHIT!” Drifter protested.

“Dude, do you really have to make a scene?” Dale sighed. “There are other people here.”

“Obviously! What kind of shit-tier tea is this!?” He yelled.

“I-it’s just Tetley, sir.” The waiter replied, just doing his job.

“I should have known. I’m a PG Tips man! Here, take it back!”

“Y-yes sir.” The waiter quickly returned with Drifter’s correct order.

“Better.”

“Hey, Drifter?” Dale asked.

“What?” Drifter replied, kicking back in his chair, his tea break interrupted.

“Any particular reason we’re just sitting around a beach café, in the south of England?”

“You’re asking now?”

“It’s a conversation, isn’t it?”

“To take a break from all the bullshit.”

“You mean all the cannon fodder we’ve curb-stomped over the past week?”

“Curb-stomped or not, it's still busy work. I’m relaxing now.”

“You treat this like your job?”

“It’s more like an inescapable nightmare.”

“So, a job?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, but is there a reason we’re all the way out here?”

“Didn’t I tell you, already?”

“No! You don’t tell us fucking anything! You barely speak to us!”

“Oh yeah…”

Drifter put down the tea and sat up straight. He felt they deserved some kind of explanation by this point.

“Locke mentioned shit was about to go down on an island, in the South of England and the further South we’ve gone this past week, the more I started to feel a strong demonic presence.”

“Cool, so what’s the next step?”

“Taking a break.”

“That’s not… okay… I guess a break would be good for all of us, right Amanda?”

On the opposite end of the table, staring at the ocean, with her coffee untouched, sat Amanda, who had been even less talkative during the journey. A journey that should have taken them a few hours took a whole week thanks to being constantly interrupted by demon attacks.

Luckily, with Amanda and Dale at his side, Drifter never had to worry about any civilian casualties as his companions would either defend the people for him, or fight off the demons without him ever having to lift a finger. However, Drifter still considered traveling alone the better option, as it was just easier.

“Amanda?” Dale called. “You feeling okay? You’ve been pretty quiet the past week, too.”

Amanda continued staring at the sea, absentmindedly. Then Drifter flicked her cheek.

“Ah! What the-!?” She cried.

“He’s talking to you.” Drifter responded.

She turned to Dale. “What is it?”

“Uh… you okay?”

“Fine.”

“You’re not acting fine.”

“Yeah.” Drifter intervened. “You were way more obnoxious when we first met.”

Amanda rose from her chair, insulted. “The hell did you say?”

"That's more like it."

Amanda slowly fell back into her seat.

“What am I doing? Getting mad won’t help anything. Being sad won’t help either. I just feel empty…”

“I don’t want to be rude.” Dale cautiously stated. “But, maybe you should go back home. Grieve with your family? No one will blame you if-”

“I can’t go back home!”

“Why?”

“Because… I don’t have one.”

“Oh God, here we go…” Drifter muttered.

“My home is gone. Destroyed by demons.”

“You really have demons all the way out in the US?”

“Yeah, lord knows what they were doing out in the countryside… I came to England because my sister was the only family I had left, and now she’s gone too…”

“What exactly happened?” Drifter quickly became interested in Amanda’s story.

“They treated us like cattle, and planned to slaughter us like them. We were locked in the basement, waiting for death, but I passed out. When I woke up, my family and the monsters were already dead, the only other thing I remember was our wrecked car, burning in white fire. After that, I used my family’s savings to head on over to England.”

“Huh…” Drifter had a curious look on his face, but it didn’t last very long. “Jesus… Another sappy backstory? When did I become a sadness magnet?”

“Sorry…” Amanda apologised.

“Nice one!” Dale yelled. “You made her feel worse!”

“Fine.” Drifter got up. “I’ll just leave then.”

“Now? What about Amanda?”

“If she can’t handle a stupid insult then she shouldn’t be following me around. She’s got a weapon and money, so she can take care of herself.”

“But, she’s so vulnerable right now.”

“Not my problem. I’m not her babysitter.”

Amanda soon pulled herself up. “I’m staying!”

“Really?”

“I’m… gonna keep fighting… until I figure out what to do with myself. That’s what Abby would have wanted.”

“Then stop shaking. I’m heading for the bridge.” Drifter pressed on, leaving his companions to catch up to him.

“A bridge? What bridge?” Dale questioned.

“The one that leads to the Isle of Wight.”

“What!? There’s no bridge to the Isle of Wight, you fucking liar!”

“Yeah there is. Look, it’s just up ahead.”

Drifter wasn’t lying, a massive white suspension bridge, stretched over the ocean and into the horizon, leading to the island, vaguely visible from across the sea.

“When did they build that!?”

“I dunno.”

"Well, can't we take a boat?"

"What? And get stuck on it forever? Even I don't have the guts for that."

Upon reaching the foot of the bridge they noticed a large group of soldiers guarding the entrance. While Dale and Amanda were hesitant to force their way past them, Drifter paid them no mind. He leapt over the human blockade, catching their attention immediately.

“Hey!” One of the soldiers yelled, as they all pointed their rifles at Drifter, who didn’t even bother to face them. “No citizens are allowed on the bridge!”

“Okay.” Drifter replied, ignoring their orders.

“Stop! We have full authorisation to use force!”

“Okay.”

The soldiers took shots at Drifter, but he just walked on, as the bullets bounced off him.

“Hold your fire!” Their General ordered. “Shooting him is pointless.”

“General!?” One of the men remarked.

“Looks like Watson’s brother was right.”

While the guards were distracted, Dale and Amanda took the opportunity to run past them. They were caught, but as some of the soldiers readied their weapons again, the General stopped them.

“Halt! Those must be the companions he told us about.”

“What do we do?”

“We've already done our job, but I am curious to see what’ll happen, now that the man in the white coat has arrived.”

Strolling down the bridge, a deep fog started rolling in. Thankfully this wasn’t the result of a demon, but rather, good old fashioned British weather. A figure soon came into view. A man leaning on a car, waiting for someone. The man noticed Drifter and his companions and started moving towards them until the two parties met.

“Just when I thought I’d finally gotten rid of you, ginger twat.” Drifter complained.

“Nice to see you too, Drifter.” Richard greeted.

“What are you doing here?”

"I've been following your movements and you've been moving a lot this past week. That's pretty out of character for you. I'm guessing something's about to go down here, right?"

"Hey, you actually did your job." Drifter praised, before immediately walking past him.

“I’ve done some sleuthing this past week.” Richard explained. “About your first kill.”

“Neat.”

“Know anything about the destroyed house on Mound Street, Drifter?”

“Nope.”

“I looked up the records of that house, but couldn’t find anything on whoever lived there.”

“Guess no one lived there then.”

“No. There’s definitely evidence that it was inhabited, but the owner’s have completely vanished and their records erased.”

“Okay! See ya!”

“Wait! That’s not all I found out! I know your secret!” Drifter ignored Richard’s cries and kept walking. “I know why you always seem to be around whenever demons show up!”

Richard’s words fell on deaf ears, as Drifter disappeared into the fog. “Is this guy for real? Does he really not care?”

“I don’t think so.” Dale answered. “So, what’s this secret?”

“I suppose you should know. The demons plaguing this country, Drifter isn’t hunting them down, they’re hunting Drifter. Wherever he goes, demons follow.”

“Wait!” Amanda yelled. “You mean all these demon attacks are his fault!?”

“Hard to say, but that guy is definitely a demon magnet, but I have no idea why.”

It took a moment, but the penny finally dropped, as Dale yelled.

“The sword! Drifter told me that demons are always after his sword! That must be it! All these years, he’s been moving from place to place, to keep them off his trail! If he were to settle down anywhere, that place would become a hotspot of demon activity! He’d put himself and everyone around him in danger!”

“If that’s the case, then why doesn’t he just go someplace where there aren’t people around!?” Amanda retorted.

“Could you live the rest of your life like that?”

“Well… I… no…”

“When you think about it, it’s kind of a sad existence.”

“No wonder he’s always so cranky.”

While the others discussed Drifter’s crankiness further, the man himself pressed on, until his path was blocked by three mysterious figures, one of whom he quickly recognised.

“Catherine, what the fuck are you doing?”