On a grassy hill overlooking a lush park, two girls sit, enamored by one another. They smile at each other, one blonde and the other pink, happy and content with their lives. The blonde's love everlasting, but the pink's life fleeting.

A gush of water from a passing car, splashing Ana Kravens. She let out a noise of disgust and backed away from the road, heels clacking on the concrete. She looked down at her emerald dress that was now soaking wet with muddy water. I just bought this dress, she thought. Why does this always happen to me?

She stood on the sidewalk of an empty, quiet street in the small city of Lexingside, an hour away from her hometown of Morganwood. A nightclub raged on behind her, it's blinking neon lights bathing her in red and green, as she waited for a taxi to come, but it didn't seem like any would pass the lamp-lit corner. She would have called for a ride if her phone hadn't died an hour ago. The only thing that seemed to be an option was to go back into the club and ask for one of her friend's phones. Cora was still inside, and Ana knew she would be more than willing to lend her phone to her.

A shiny, big truck slowed and stopped in front of her. The passenger window rolled down to reveal a pale man with a mischievous smile. He had pale skin, blue-gray eyes, and brown hair combed forward, a way to hide his male pattern baldness. Ana found it amusing.

"Deacon," Ana smiled and approached the truck. "How did you know I would be here?"

Deacon was barely a friend to Ana, only somebody she spent a night with when she was feeling bored. He knew of her feelings, but still would drop anything he was doing to give her a ride or help out. Ana knew of his affection towards her, but his eagerness to please was too convenient to question.

Deacon motioned toward the nightclub with a tattooed hand. "You told me you would be here on Friday nights."

She sighed and rested her arms on the edge of the passenger window. "I did, didn't I? So you came here to see if I needed a ride?"

He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel and shrugged, a small smile still lighting up his face. "Suppose I did. I was also hoping you would, maybe, get dinner with me?"

She smiled. "Dinner? That's it?"

He smiled back and glanced down at her ruined dress. "Oh, I don't know. I suppose I could get you out of that dress, too."

Ana looked up and down the street. A few cars passed by, and a group of chattering and drunk girls made their way across the street. No taxi in sight. I've only had a few drinks, she mused. It can't be that bad. I think I can live with Deacon's terrible flirting for just a night.

She looked back at him and shrugged nonchalantly. "I suppose I'm convinced."

He grinned and leaned over in his seat to open the door. "Come right in, my lady."

—_—

Ana groaned and turned around in the bed, stopping halfway when she felt a warm body pressed against her. She opened her eyes and looked at a sleeping Deacon, her gaze slowly roaming the room as she tried to remember last night's events.

Oh, shit. That's right. She had spent the night with Deacon, without the agreed-upon dinner. She sighed and rose into a sitting position.

This was a habit between them for the past year or so. A night spent together, with no strings attached. It wasn't terrible sex, she always enjoyed it in the moment, but in the mornings she always seemed to dislike Deacon's presence. It was like the glamour had worn off and he was just some regular guy. Despite that, she always came back.

Deacon's house was not a house, but a very large trailer. His parents were absurdly rich and so he had enough money to screw around for the rest of his life. Ana had an inheritance, too, but none so luxurious as his, definitely not enough to buy a fancy fifth-wheel. Silver appliances, boring gray floorboards, and a lush queen bed. A trailer fit for a wastrel.

With bleary eyes, she grabbed her phone off the nightstand and yanked the charger out. After turning it on, she looking through the fifty texts and twelve voicemails left by her friend, Logan. Ana had left her at the nightclub, promising her that she would go straight home with a ride from a female taxi driver. Obviously, she did not keep her promise. She sent her rightfully concerned friend a text saying she was fine, and just spent the night with Deacon. She immediately received a slew of angry emojis in reply.

Ana put her clothes back on and went to grab her purse by the nightstand before her hand stilled. Sitting next to her purse was a pack of cigarettes and a lighter that definitely were not hers. She scowled and grabbed her purse in one hand and her heels in the other. Fucking Deacon.

She left the trailer, feeling fortunate that Deacon was a heavy sleeper. If he had awoken, he would've most likely pestered Ana to stay and have breakfast with him. He was touchy in the mornings, as if they were than friends with benefits. It pissed Ana off, and he knew that.

His trailer was in a quiet trailer park just out of town. It was well-kept, mostly filled with retirees or vacationers. She never understood why he didn't just buy a house somewhere with all his money. All his parents' money, she corrected herself.

She ordered a ride home and got into the backseat when it came. Her home was on the opposite side of town, but it was better than Deacon's cramped trailer.

Morganwood was a small town in northern Mississippi, close to the Holly Springs National Forest. It was quiet, full of old-fashioned religious folks who wanted nothing to do with the rest of the world. Ana had grown up here with her father—no, her human dad. Her real father, Marchosias, the purple-eyed creature who believed himself to be superior, had nothing to do with her childhood.

Shabby, brick buildings passed the car, and Ana watched as people walked through the streets, getting their morning chores done. She often felt no connection to the people she grew up around. They knew her as a loner, a woman with an angry heart and a festering soul. Some still talked to her, asking her for help with menial tasks such as helping with their garden or fixing their car. She believed it was out of pity for losing her dad so young, but she entertained them for the sake of being nice.

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Soon, the buildings were replaced with hickory and pine trees trailing closely to the road. The occasional house passed by, but besides that it was mostly wilderness. The car soon slowed down, and turned into a gravel driveway. It stopped in front of a Victorian-style house with faded blue paint, the railings on the stairs missing entirely. Off to the side, near the back, was an old barn with equally faded paint. Everything was rundown and looked like shit, but it was home. My home.

She tipped the driver and exited the car, adjusting the skirt of her stained dress before walking up the creaky steps. A fat white cat with black ears and a tail bounded up the steps and beat her to the door. It turned its head and yowled at her, it's sharp yellow eyes impatient and demanding. Jazzy, the barn cat Ana's father had taken a liking to just before he passed. The grumpy feline never liked Ana, and only acknowledged her presence when she wanted food. She was a nuisance more than anything, but she didn't have the heart to re-home her.

She unlocked the door and pulled it open, Jazzy pushing past her legs and into the hallway. She went in and shut the door behind her, dropping her purse and keys on the small table next to the door. She heard another feline yowl from the kitchen, and sighed.

"Yeah, I'm coming. Be patient."

The house interior could be described with one word; maximalist. Most of the furniture and decorations was from what her dad had gathered over the many years he had lived in this house. He had a passion for thrift stores and flea markets, and so he collected many things he thought looked interesting. Antique wooden furniture littered the Victorian house, covered in random sculptures and old art projects. Fake vines hung from the ceiling in the living room, warm LED lights tangled in them to give the room a homey feel. Rugs covered the hardwood floors, a decision made after toddler Ana tripped and skinned her knee in the hallway.

She walked to the kitchen and fed the angry animal before deciding to take a shower. The hot water felt nice and relaxing on her skin, and just for a moment she felt all her worries melt away and seep into the drain. But when she turned the water off and stepped out into the cold bathroom, that familiar ache crawled back into her.

She wiped off the condensation on the mirror and looked at her appearance. Wet dirty blonde hair, purple eyes, and a sunken pale face. She felt as miserable as she looked. When was the last time my cheeks were rosy and full? Real color, and not just powder?

She quickly shook her head and grabbed her brush. It was never any good thinking about the past.

After her hair was combed through, she left the bathroom and descended the stairs. The kitchen was silent, which was strange to Ana. Usually, Jazzy would by crying to be let out by now, but there was no sight of the feline. She turned the corner into the living and stopped in her tracks.

Marchosias stood in the living room, staring at her, not blinking and not breathing. He was a demon, an immortal creature of unknown origin. She was his daughter, but he was a mystery to her.

Demons were strange creatures. She had only met one, but she assumed they were all the same. Mysterious, cunning, deceiving, able to detect even the smallest of lies. They were as still as statues, never breathing or blinking. They only moved when necessary, and it unnerved Ana. It was unnatural. But if they were unnatural, so was she. She was her father's daughter, after all.

He was dressed in the most basic of outfits; A black t-shirt and denim jeans. His gray-brown hair parted in the middle and tucked behind his ears. His eyes were a darker shade of purple than hers, and they unsettled her when he stared.

She had only known him for the past six years; before that she believed that she was the biological daughter of two humans. He had appeared one day, telling her that she was a cambion and had magical powers. Her mother wasn't happy about the reveal, and Ana wasn't happy that she kept such a secret away from her.

Ana continued nonchalantly to the kitchen, trying to act as if he hadn't spooked her. "You could've warned me you were visiting."

"I've been coming once a week for the past six years. That's not enough of a warning?" He replied, his tone clipped and gruff.

"Still, you can't just show up randomly whenever you want. What did you do with my cat?" She opened the cabinets and grabbed a box of cereal, feeling disappointed when the box felt almost empty.

"I threw it outside." He replied curtly. Ana shot him a displeased look before searching for a bowl.

When a bowl and spoon were acquired, she turned to grab the milk from the fridge, but did not expect Marchosias to be at the kitchen entrance. He moved around silently, and Ana tried to calm her beating heart as she opened the fridge. Their was only a quarter left of the almond milk, and she sighed. Today of all days for a grocery run.

"Your mother is concerned."

Ana rolled her eyes and poured the cereal and milk into the bowl. "When is she ever not worried?"

"She wants you to find a job. She thinks you're burning through your inheritance."

I am, but that's not a concern for either of them, Ana thought. Especially my father.

"So what? It's my money, and since when have you been talking to mom?" She replied before eating a spoonful of cereal.

"She tells me some things," was his only reply.

Ana turned around and gave him an incredulous look. "Some things, huh? I'm surprised she even talks to you at all."

He didn't react to the comment. He only stared as she ate her cereal. Ana wished he did. A frown, an eyebrow twitch, something that would tell her that there was a soul somewhere in that body.

She sighed and looked down at her sad bowl of cereal. "Okay, whatever. I'll look for a job or something. Can you go bother somebody else now?"

His hand twitched then. The need for him to react suddenly vanished when she remembered demons only move when its needed. If he moved, it could only mean she had provoked him.

"I am being serious," He said. "Get a job. You sleep all day and party all night. How do you think your mother feels?"

"Yeah. Whatever," she murmured. She raised the bowl to her lips and drank the last of the cereal. When she lowered the bowl back down, Marchosias had gone. She let out a sigh of relief, releasing all the tension in her muscles she didn't realize she was holding. She dumped the bowl and spoon into the sink and wiped her mouth. Good grief.

Looking out into the window and into the backyard, she realized she could not relax yet. My plants. Of course.

—_—

The American bittersweet was dying, and Ana couldn't tell why. It's leaves drooped low to the ground, yellow and shriveled. No holes, so it can't be caterpillars. She picked off the yellow leaves and dropped them to the ground. It's getting plenty of water, or at least I thought it was. Maybe it's too much?

The hair on the back of her neck raised, and she became suddenly aware of somebody watching her. She slowly turned around to the distant forest, but nobody was there. The chirping of birds was her only companion in these woods.

She turned back to the American bittersweet clinging to the trellis. She had no pesticide, which gave her another reason to go to the store, although she would want more than anything to just stay home and do nothing.

She sighed in annoyance and ripped off her gardening gloves. Problems after problems this morning. Suppose I can't have one morning of peace when I ask for it.

There's that feeling again. The feeling of being watched. Her back stiffened and her hands stilled. Whoever or whatever it was, it was behind her, somewhere in the woods.

She quickly whipped around, eyes trained on the forest. A rustle of bushes, but nothing more. The birds had stilled their beaks. Something was in the woods.

She couldn't see anything, however. Whatever had been watching her became spooked by her watchful eye. Just in case, though...

She spread out her palm in front of her, whispering words under her breath. Violet circles appeared above her hand, filled with sigils and rotating in the the air. She couldn't read them, but knew what they caused. She drew her hand back, feeling the rush of magical power swell in her hand, and threw it towards the forest like it was a baseball. The ball of purple light pierce its way through the forest, and after a few seconds she heard it crash into a tree, the sound of splitting wood hitting her ears. After that, a few panicked chattering of birds and then, silence.

Nothing. I'm being paranoid. The spell meant to scare whatever or whoever it was out of hiding, but now she just felt like a fool. She turned back to her house and headed toward the porch. I'm a damn fool.