“It’s been nine hours?” Rodrigo asked, taking a seat on the red velvet couch in front of the TV. He wasn’t sure when exactly the invasion had started, since the time was low on his list of concerns while in the midst of the mayhem. But he remembered not leaving the mall’s food court until slightly past 8:00 pm. That was a few hours before he saw the imps on the hotel’s roof, and now it was almost 5:00 am.
Adena was stretched out on a nearby recliner, sinking into the plush material. “Probably nine hours since the first reported demon sighting. There’s no reason to assume they appeared everywhere simultaneously.”
“What’s the President doing? Laying low in a bunker somewhere?”
“By now, he’s almost certainly dead. Misery sent the bulk of his forces to take out the government and military branches. The Pentagon’s been obliterated. Most air force and naval bases were destroyed within the first few hours, too. As far as I know, there’s no contingency plan for something of this magnitude, and with all the deaths, the chain of command is probably in such flux there’s no time to develop a solid defense strategy. And if that’s the state one of the strongest militaries in the world is in, you can imagine the rest.”
Rodrigo’s head was spinning. Distantly, he wondered whether countries with smaller populations, especially islands like the Dominican Republic where his cousin and uncle were, would be less likely to draw attention or be completely steamrolled. “Hold up. I get the Pentagon’s a no-brainer as a target, but doesn’t the U.S. have thousands of bases hidden around the world? And those are just the ones they admit to. How could the demons discover and take out even half of those so quickly?”
“You shouldn’t have to think too hard about their method. You’re living proof.”
It took Rodrigo a few seconds, but then his eyes widened. “Possession?”
Adena nodded. “A single highly capable demon could possess the commander-in-chief of every country Misery deemed a threat, rip the locations of bases and other vital information from the deepest recesses of their host’s memories, then leave without a trace.”
“And that is, perhaps, the greatest failing of your species. By putting all your faith in such a meager percentage of your populace, the majority has been rendered helpless. Misery’s trounced you humans royally.” There was a sense of pride in Resent’s voice that Rodrigo was tempted to comment on, but he let it be. If things had turned out differently, the prince could have been the one leading the assault on humanity.
Live footage of the chaos, captured by some brave cameramen in circling helicopters, was playing on screen, when Rodrigo asked, “Is there somewhere I can practice around here?”
“Of course. Come on.” She rose, walking with Rodrigo trailing behind her. Adena stopped in front of a metallic door, which, like all doors in this building, needed to be unlocked with a key card. She inserted hers and it revealed a room half the size of a high school gymnasium. The equipment inside wasn’t simply weights and exercise machines, but practice dummies, complex target ranges, and various other equipment to train for combat with. Much like her armory in the mansion, the far wall was lined with a vast selection of weapons.
Rodrigo was spacing out, thinking about how to best utilize his time, when Adena came to him, sword in hand. He quickly reached for his hilt.
Adena’s lips quirked slightly. “Calm down. I wasn’t going to attack you right off the bat...though, I liked that reaction.”
“So, are you gonna teach me something this time or am I just getting wrecked again? Either way, I need a lighter sword.”
“No, what you have will do for now.”
Rodrigo’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? You’re the one who pointed out how slow I was with it.”
“And you are, but if you keep using it, you’ll gradually adapt to its weight. Then when you’ve improved to the point where it’s barely a strain on you, the transition to a normal sword will be more beneficial.”
Rodrigo followed Adena to an open area where she rolled up the sleeves of her burgundy turtleneck and took a stance. At least this time she had the decency to wait for him to draw his sword and prepare himself before laying into him.
They practiced for about an hour, with several brief breaks in-between. Even if the soreness of his arm and injuries disappeared within minutes, he was still feeling burned-out. Adena looked tired herself. Throughout, Resent had given him tips disguised as insults like, “Stop being so damn rigid. If the woman intended to kill you, you’d be dead many times over,” and “Why are you squirming around so much? It only serves to squander energy and throw off your balance. Or are you a masochist?”
Rodrigo hadn’t responded since acknowledging or thanking the demon might have scared away his helpful side.
“Am I getting any better?” Rodrigo asked.
“Little by little,” Adena said. “I could still kill you in ten seconds and I wouldn’t recommend challenging a demon with a sword, but yes, there’s progress.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“About your progress or being able to kill you in less than ten seconds? Because you still haven’t landed a hit on me.”
“I’m not saying I could beat you, just no way it’d be that fast.”
A surprisingly smug smile spread across Adena’s face. “I’ll make you a deal. If you can last more than ten seconds against me, I’ll give you a million dollars.”
“Seriously?” Rodrigo asked, his voice rising in pitch. But after the allure of potentially becoming a millionaire wore off, he said, “Then again, money’s not much more than a novelty with the way things are now.”
“Fair point.” Adena reached under her shirt and pulled out the fade periapt she had removed from the mansion’s entryway before they left. “Make it ten seconds and I’ll give you this. Lose in nine or less and you’ll know how desperately you need further training.”
Now that was a prize worth fighting for. If he gave it to Raquel or Carlito, they’d actually be able to hide from the demons. Rodrigo nodded and drew his sword.
“Starting...now.” Adena closed in on him rapidly, slashing at his lower body. Years of dormant muscle memory was beginning to kick in, Rodrigo’s footwork quickening and the blade moving more smoothly in his hand. Still, unable to match her speed, he took a different approach than he would have if the goal was to hold out longer. Instead of hurrying to block the light cuts, he dodged what he could and endured what he couldn’t. He was entirely focused on guarding his vitals.
Realizing what he was doing, she backed off. Those azure eyes of hers looked him over for a second before she moved in again with a thrust of her sword. Rodrigo caught her attack with one of the downward spikes on his blade and was trying to yank her weapon from her hand when his feet were swept from under him. He lost his grip on his sword and hit the ground hard.
Adena straddled him, her knees pinning his arms to the polished floor at his sides, as she pressed the edge of her blade against his throat. She couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than him, yet she was superior in practically every way. Was she what he could have been like if he’d been allowed to continue fencing? How many hours had he idled away playing video games, or watching TV shows he could hardly remember the details of, while this girl was molding herself into something so dangerous even demons feared her?
“That was bull,” Rodrigo spat, wrenching the blade out of her hand with the nebulae and flinging it across the room. “You didn’t say we could use anything besides our swords.”
Adena’s eyes narrowed as she shoved off his chest and rose, giving him that look she was so fond of, like what had just been uttered was idiotic to the point of being offensive. “It was the least painful way to take you down. Your strategy, if you can even call it that with a straight face, was garbage and would’ve gotten your legs chopped off in a real sword fight. Doesn’t matter. Sparring’s one thing, but how many demons do you picture fighting fair?”
“I guess she’s got a point. How many seconds was that?” Rodrigo asked.
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“Eight. Utterly abysmal. If nothing else, at least you’re increasing your tolerance for punishment.”
“Okay, I need a break,” Rodrigo groaned, biting back his frustration as he got to his feet. “Breakfast?”
Adena took him to the kitchen and let him rummage through the fully stocked cabinets as she brewed herself a pot of coffee. Now, seated at the cherry wood dining table, Rodrigo nibbled on a frosted blueberry pop-tart as he studied Adena. Sitting at the head of the table, across from him, her head was lolling back and under her thick eyeshadow, bags were starting to show. If they were safe here, at least relatively, why was she so opposed to the idea of sleep?
As she took her first sip of black coffee, her attention snapped onto him. “What?”
“How long’s it been since you slept?”
“Longer than you.”
“I didn’t know it was a competition. Maybe I should drink coffee to keep up.” Rodrigo gave her a slight smile, but Adena sat there stone-faced, so he wiped it away. Though he could understand being uninterested in small talk, barring his mother, she had to be the hardest person to converse with he’d ever met. And that included Resent, in his boundless arrogance.
“What do you think of Jett?” Adena asked suddenly.
Despite the vagueness of her question, Rodrigo didn’t need to think too deeply about her meaning. “He’s grieving. Doesn’t help that he hasn’t been in the best state of mind recently. Neither of us could figure out how he got his ability in the first place. It kicked in when he was getting jumped by...oh, right. You were there, weren’t you?” Remembering her hesitation when Jett asked if his attackers were dead and seeing the charred corpses of the hounds, he asked, “He killed them, didn’t he?”
Adena straightened in her chair. “Not quite. But I undersold their injuries. Last I checked, all four were comatose. I made it seem like a downed power line was responsible, so if they do wake up and happen to remember, their stories about a boy slinging lighting should fall on deaf ears. I don’t think I need to tell you, but considering his mental state, keep all this to yourself.”
Rodrigo touched the tips of his thumb and index finger, sliding them across his mouth. He didn’t like keeping his cousin in the dark on a matter that personally concerned him, but Jett didn’t need this additional burden right now. “I doubt investigating a freak accident is going to be a priority anytime soon, anyway.”
“Exactly,” Adena relaxed in her seat, seeming relieved he wasn’t arguing. “As for how he got his Flair, if it had happened after you met Resent, I might think it was arranged by an ally of his. But since Jett came first, I don’t think there was any significant reason he was chosen. It could have been years ago, or even when he was a baby, and just activated the first time he’d ever truly feared for his life. I’m assuming Resent hasn’t explained the process to you due to it being an embarrassment for his kind. Truth is, any human can get abilities like ours.”
“Okay, so where do these abilities come from? Demons?”
“Of course. They’ve been sent to earth to examine our ways and assess our potential as a threat long before Misery was in charge. Typically, it’s demons capable of possession or diavoliks, who can blend in if they hide their eyes and don’t stay in one place long enough for their decelerated aging to be noticed. Being nearly immortal, after living for centuries with violence as a constant companion, some demons grew to enjoy the human lifestyle and when they returned to Hell, found they missed the comparative peace humanity took for granted. They knew if they tried to stay on earth unsanctioned, the high lords would have them destroyed. So, the majority obeyed their superiors.”
“Wait, high lords? I can imagine, but who are they exactly?”
Adena almost choked on the coffee she was in the middle of swallowing. “He hasn’t even told you that much?”
Rodrigo shook his head. “He gets a kick out of keeping secrets behind more paywalls than a free-to-play game.”
“Ugh, fine. Basically, each one is an extremely powerful demon in command of one of the five great cities surrounding the capital. Together they form the council that convenes to decide on matters that impact all of Hell. The only one they answer to is the current ruler. Can I get back to the story now?”
“Sure.”
“While most demons remained in Hell, even if they were unsatisfied, the more rebellious ones refused to abandon their new lives. This led to them being hunted down without mercy. The few demons that survived spent their lives on the run, getting those that associated too closely with them killed, and finding it impossible to put down roots. Eventually, they decided that before they were inevitably destroyed, the best revenge would be to bestow their power upon humans.”
“So, who were the people that got their powers?”
“Like I said, they’re mostly random. Same as with possession, the only real factor is age. Since it’s almost a way for their spirit to live on, unless the demon chooses someone they became close with over the course of their life, they’ll aim for someone young. Fittingly, this bestowal also offers a degree of protection against possession.” Adena hesitated. “My father was seventeen when his Flair activated and his house became an inferno. Unlike us, he didn’t have the benefit of someone more experienced to guide him, and so, I never had the opportunity to meet my grandparents.”
Good God. Whenever Adena did speak at length, it was always something so grim and heavy. Rodrigo was pondering what he could say to ease the tension when there was a knock at the front door. It was so light and non-threatening that the wrongness of it didn’t immediately register. His ludicrous notion that Adena’s butler, Stefan, had brought his family to the warehouse was squashed as she checked her phone and somehow grew even paler.
Inhaling sharply, Adena slid the phone across the table to him. Seeing her so spooked made Rodrigo’s heart thunder in his chest. He didn’t even want to look at the screen, imagining the footage from the hidden security cameras would show Sonneillon, tongue regrown, waiting out there with his army to storm the building.
When he worked up the nerve to glance at the phone, he was underwhelmed. Two pale-skinned diavoliks, dressed from head to toe in lightweight armor, were on the other side of the steel doors. Though the armor they wore was nearly identical and riddled with red spikes, one was a glaring gold while the other was a muted silver. Unlike other diavoliks Rodrigo had seen, these two ditched sleeves and gauntlets for vambraces on their forearms. Continuing that bold trend, were horned helmets that openly displayed their faces.
“Do you know them?” Rodrigo whispered, in case either demons’ hearing was keen enough to hear through walls. The pair had made it past all the protection Adena put on the place, so it was obvious they were abnormal.
“Only by word of mouth. The smaller one in gold is Verin. The one in silver, built like he’s on steroids, is Xanthos. They’re conquerors of Hell’s arenas, and I rather not fight them.”
Resent took over before Rodrigo could get another word out. “Enough! At last, I’m unencumbered by brats and the weak. I have no intention of fleeing because these flamboyant dolts won a few tourneys.”
There was a bang on the door, much louder than the first, and Rodrigo was starting to think they might break it down.
Adena cocked her head at Resent. “Did I say anything about running? No. I’m going to tell you precisely how we’ll kill them.”
A moment later, after Resent had climbed the ladder to the roof, Rodrigo heard the hatch snap shut behind them. The sound seemed deafening, but the argument taking place below, just outside the warehouse doors, had drowned it out.
“Admit it, little brother. You were wrong,” Xanthos said in a gruff voice, his beefy arms crossed. He had stepped back from the building and appeared eager to leave. “If anyone was here, we would have heard their panic by now. Just be ready to part with that precious spear of yours upon returning home.”
Verin had his ear pressed to the steel door. “There has to be something. You saw how the fodder were skirting this area.”
“Yes, because our inferiors have wisely decided not to waste their time here. Stall if you must, but I sense no signs of life inside, and shall hold you to our wager.”
Verin’s gaze snapped up, and Rodrigo knew his silent prayer that the duo would go away had fallen on deaf ears. “And your perception has long been lacking, Xanthos. There is a human lurking atop this very building.”
“Hey, here’s another idea,” Rodrigo said. “How about we try to squeeze them for information? I mean, if they don’t recognize you right away, then—”
In a gravity defying stunt, Verin ran up the wall of the warehouse and hopped over the ten-foot-high chain-link fence in an instant. He examined Resent through orange eyes, ringed by what was either some kind of war paint or human blood. “Now that I am closer, there is demon in you as well. Who are you?”
“Captain Boladach, hailing from the great city of Erodis,” Resent said, performing some sort of sorcery on Rodrigo’s vocal cords to speak with booming authority. “I suggest you address me with more respect, whelp. My inhabiting this human vessel does not make me incapable of sending you to an early urn.”
Verin’s eyebrows shot up, then he sketched a slight bow. Turning away, he said, “Apologies, sir. My brother and I shall be on our way.”
“Not yet. I have some que—”
Resent’s canine teeth nearly bit through his tongue as a flying knee to his jaw was unleashed so fast he couldn’t defend himself. It wasn’t enough to knock him off his feet, but the impact forced him backward and the small spikes on Verin’s greave left a nasty wound.
“A convincing act. You were even cautious enough to choose the smallest of the great cities to be a denizen of. Unfortunately, the energy I sense from you tells a different tale. Now, once more, who are you?”
“You’re about to learn.” Resent lunged with an uppercut at a grinning Verin, who raised his arm to block. A split-second before his knuckles connected with the golden demon’s jagged vambrace, the nebulae enveloped Resent’s fist and ruptured the metal. Verin’s eyes widened as Resent’s punch broke his arm and sent him flying. He gained control of his course in midair, jumping onto the top of the fence, and perching himself there, like a vulture sizing up its prey.
“Ah, I suppose the strangeness you radiate makes some sense now. I have to admit, that was fairly impressive. Show me what else you can do, Prince Resent,” Verin goaded as he backflipped and landed on the sidewalk below gracefully.
Taking the bait, as Rodrigo knew he would, Resent rushed up the fence and dove toward the pair of demons, damning Adena’s plan with his descent.