Over an hour later, everyone had moved on to solitary activities. After only Raquel was in the mood for gaming, she went back to the shooting game, playing online. Despite having encouraged the others not to dwell on the creature, it had impressed Rodrigo how well Raquel was coping. Until he noticed how much worse she was playing than earlier. The whole time, she was trash-talking everyone over the microphone, teammates included.

Jett was pointedly ignoring them all, scarfing down chocolate chip cookies Emelina had baked while they were out. He covered his laptop in crumbs as he searched for credible information on demons and the state of his neighborhood.

Oddly enough, at least outwardly, Carlito was the most composed of the three, as if he had taken a Valium at some point. He had been so quiet, lying on the top bunk, Rodrigo was sure he managed to fall asleep through the racket of Raquel’s tantrum. But when he checked on his brother, he found him wide-eyed, staring up at the ceiling with a preoccupied frown.

Rodrigo wished Adena had given him the chance to ask more questions. Mysterious motives or not, she was more forthcoming than Resent. Other than his ominous introduction to Raquel, the prince hadn’t even spoken since learning his mentor-turned-killer was now usurper of his throne as well.

A little after 11:00, Emelina called Rodrigo from the living room. She was probably already talking to Edward. As he traipsed down the steps, his chest grew tight as anxiety crept in. The missing money had become a distant concern in light of everything else that had happened in the hours since he’d learned of it. Yet here he was, about to speak with his father for the first time since he was eleven. Maybe he’d get an explanation for why the man had carved his children out of his life.

“He’s right here,” Emelina said as she passed him the phone, then walked off to give him privacy.

Slowly, Rodrigo raised it to his ear. “Um...hi.”

“Hello, Son. How are you?”

He had to fight the insane urge to answer honestly. “All right, I guess.”

“I heard you haven’t been receiving the money I’ve been sending.” The softness in Edward’s voice was disorienting. Since his father was never one for being photographed, he could only vaguely recall what Edward looked like. Foremost, fairly tall for a father of two boys who had always been shorter than most of their peers. His skin was also paler than theirs, closest in complexion to Raquel. But over the years, Rodrigo had built him up in his mind as a callous human being. Then again, a single sin had its way of poisoning your entire perception of a person. “Son, are you still there?”

“I’m here, and I’ve never gotten any mail from you.”

“That’s a problem. The first envelopes I sent when you were fourteen each contained $2,000, but they increased annually. I had intended for it to be an allowance for all of you.”

Despite trying to feign nonchalance, Rodrigo gasped, surprised at the amount. In recent years, his family had been living as if paycheck-to-paycheck. Even if his mother had remained unemployed since Edward left, if she’d been using that money to supplement the child support he sent, shouldn’t they at least have had property insurance? “When’d you send the last one?”

“Exactly a week ago. Emelina tells me you suspect your mother of theft.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve had my issues with Miriam, but that the woman would stoop so low...” The sudden harshness to Edward’s words spoke of an animosity Rodrigo had never been aware of. Incredibly, he felt a flicker of offense on his mother’s behalf at being vilified by the man who’d put her in such a position. “Rest assured, I will discuss this with her. For the time being, Emelina has agreed to receive the money instead, so you can pick it up directly from her.”

“Works for me.”

“Good. Oh, and how is your memory treating you?”

“I don’t have dementia yet,” Rodrigo joked. Edward didn’t spare him so much as a chuckle, so he added, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“When you were younger...no, never mind. If there are no new gaps, you must have outgrown it.” After dropping that disturbing tidbit on him, Edward said, “Hmm. Well, if that’s all, I’m in the middle of some crucial work. I’m glad we could clear this up. Take care of yourself.” Edward hung up before Rodrigo could even say goodbye.

He had made the mistake of getting his hopes up for a heart-to-heart, as if the universe felt like cutting him a single break today. Irrational thoughts of potentially reuniting his family had blossomed and withered within minutes. Edward couldn’t even be bothered to simulate sympathy over the fire, or inquire about his other children’s well-being. All that interested him was ensuring Miriam didn’t get more of his money.

His disappointment must have been palpable, because when he returned the phone, Emelina said, “Honey, he would’ve loved to talk more, but he has a lot of time-sensitive work.”

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“Yeah, I get it. Thanks,” Rodrigo said with as much gratitude as he could muster.

Back in the bedroom, Raquel was still playing, but thankfully, had switched the TV’s audio output to a wireless headset and gotten off the mic. Whether because she had blown off enough steam, or the others had grown tired of her shouting, “Fight me in real life!” he couldn’t be sure.

Rodrigo stretched out again on the bottom bunk. The first conversation with his father in over five years took less than five minutes. He tried to set it aside because thinking about it was making him sick to his stomach. Covering up and closing his eyes, he wanted to be conscious less than ever.

“What are you doing? I realize you struggled with that demon, but you can’t be this tired,” Resent said.

“Oh, he speaks. And that’s after training for hours. I’ve had to deal with more craziness in the past few days than I have in my entire life. I’m overdue for a break.”

“Listen, I’m bored and not at all weary. If we spend the next several hours training, I just might feel so inclined to provide some answers to your seemingly infinite questions.”

“Withholding info that could be the difference between life and death as a prize for obedience? Real smart. I know you’re probably not used to hearing no, being a prince and all, but I’m sure you know what it means.”

“Such cheek. I suppose I have been too lenient. According to your sire, you’re an amnesiac, so allow me to refresh your memory.” Resent slowed his speech, like he was dictating to a toddler, “You are the slave. I am the master. You do as I command. Refusal is not an option.”

“Shut up,” Rodrigo muttered.

“What?” Resent asked, incredulous. “What did you just say?”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!” Rodrigo yelled, his internal voice rising with each repetition. They were two simple words, and yet, they were intoxicating. “I’m sick of this shit!”

Flipping out on a demon that could possess him whenever he wished wasn’t wise. But Rodrigo was fed up with Resent acting like he owned him. Any other day, he would’ve played it safe, bottled up his rage, and given in. Today, though, was hands down the worst day of his life. With Adena being needlessly cryptic, his mother stealing from him for years, Jett lashing out at him, that creature nearly killing him, and what his father considered a conversation, almost everyone was pushing him around. He half-expected Raquel to kick him in the nuts before the night was through.

“I’ll simply take control if you want to be this much of a wretch.”

“Give it your best shot,” Rodrigo snapped, trying to block out Resent’s voice.

The splitting headache that followed was easily the most painful Rodrigo had ever suffered. His vision was blurring, his ears were ringing, and he was pretty sure he was bleeding slightly out of his left nostril. He couldn’t move a muscle to reach up and confirm it. Gritting his teeth was all that was stopping him from screaming aloud. If he wasn’t already lying down, he would have collapsed.

And yet, for some reason, the prince wasn’t able to seize control. Rodrigo didn’t understand why, but soon, a sullen Resent stopped ranting and allowed him to rest.

#

“Father, Misery is of common stock,” Resent stated. The prince looked a few years older than he had been in the last dream. “How is he capable of accomplishing such feats?”

The question was directed at the demon sitting next to him. From the lines on his face, he appeared to be Misery’s senior, but younger than Heinrik. He was in heavy, blood-red armor, and had short straight hair the same dark shade of blue as Resent’s. On his head was a crown the color of his armor, studded with brilliant obsidian gems, and adorned with three curved spikes sticking out of the front to mimic horns.

The pair were sitting in thrones, looking down at a vast arena from several hundred feet. Misery was in battle against five armed opponents, who each wore a cape with a different intricate symbol emblazoned on it. On Misery’s black cape was a gold symbol that resembled the skull of a tri-horned demon.

“Misery had a tremendous talent for combat even when we met in our youth. Only later did I recognize the shrewd mind and determination that would mold him into our city’s finest general.” The king paused as he took in the battle. The warriors Misery was up against were all skilled, but he was cutting them down with relative ease. “As the centuries pass, you come to realize all a strong bloodline grants you is an advantage. There are demons who have never set foot in any of the six great cities, yet have strength surpassing my own.”

“Strength that surpasses yours? You are the king! No one should have strength that rivals yours, let alone surpasses it!” If not for the blood-thirsty demons cheering and screaming all around the arena, Resent’s outburst might have been heard. The highest-seated row of audience members were about fifty feet lower than the king and prince, however.

“If you are to retain a single lesson from me, then let it be that factors such as rank or upbringing are merely indicators of what one may be capable. Overestimating your competence due to your position will deservedly get you killed.”

Before the prince could respond, the crowd went wild. Misery had decapitated his last opponent.

“Incredible!” a voice boomed, on the opposite side of the arena from where the king and prince sat. “Misery has single-handedly slain a conqueror from each of the other great cities. He has proven once again why our capital of Dreadmus reigns supreme!”

“King Strife, I am your will!” Misery roared with a smile, pointing his sword up at Resent and his father.

“Strife, Strife, Strife, Strife!” the demons in the arena chanted.

Strife smirked as he looked around at his subjects. Resent scowled as he stared at his greatest obstacle, seated on the larger throne.