A Sheep in Wolf's Clothing

It was truly impressive how an entire system ran on exploitation. Chains of human trafficking, organ trafficking, prostitution, drugs, and various types of potions or artifacts that could have disastrous effects in the hands of the wrong person. And down there, they could only end up in the wrong hands.

A sex demon was leaning against the wall of a building, lacking a good deal of fabric on her body, with a cigar as thick as a finger between her lips. She scanned her surroundings with a bored look. A customer smiled libidinously at her and addressed her by name, politely asking if she could spare a drag from her cigar. A disgusted look overtook the demon's face before it quickly hid behind a delighted one, answering teasingly a asking for something in return. Because that's how things worked down there: everything was transactional.

The client scratched the back of his neck, searching his torn pockets. A few specks of dust came out. "I'll make it up for you, baby. I'll get you the good stuff next time!"

The good stuff . Who knew what it could mean? Could have been anything from a dose of cocaine to a severed limb.

Emma shuddered in disgust.

The monsters stopped and looked at her. They sensed her angelic powers, and naturally, were reluctant. But believe it or not, they were used to angels. Many succumb to the darkness and start working for demons in exchange for injectables that improve their strength, taken out of fear of fading. They were no longer becoming raisins, but they were becoming more and more monstrous day by day. Creatures without consent, kissing their owners' feet and eating from dog bowls. They walked on all fours and foamed at the mouth, baring their fangs at strangers and taking beatings from their masters.

Truly terrible.​

Considering she didn't attack them, the monsters thought Emma was a desperate angel who didn't know what she was getting herself into. And it may be true, but not for the reason they thought. Emma had made a deal with an old acquaintance. A decision she was sure of. Yet, she didn't know how Roman and Moon would react.

"Goldie, get out of the way!" yelled a hunched old man with green skin, peppered with warts of all shapes and sizes. All his hair was missing except for a tuft, and a forked tongue snapped at Emma in annoyance.

Emma stepped aside to let the strange frog pass along with his cart full of goods. He mumbled something along the lines of " Lady Valmort is on the way ".

That name…

“What did you say?”

“I said get the hell out of my way, girl!” he grumbled.

"No! No... did you say…Valmort? Who is Lady Valmort?”

"Is that why you stopped me like that?” He scoffed, wrenching out of her grip and fixing his oily shirt on his shoulders. "Are you new here or just stupid? She's Lucian's girl!”

Lucian Valmort’s daughter.

"Sweetie, been staying like this for a few minutes. Are you okay?

Emma's gaze was met by a red lace covering a supple body with surreal curves. A strong smell of rose overwhelmed Emma’s senses.

"I am."

The sex demon lady from earlier. It seemed she had gotten rid of the persistent client, and Emma was a greater source of entertainment. “Don’t just stand in the middle of the road, then.” And before Emma's brain registered the command, the woman grabbed her arm and pulled her into a building.

A little bell rang when the door was opened. Several tables were placed at a reasonable distance from each other, considering the workspace was quite small. Behind a counter was a figure dressed in a green coat with a hood pulled over his head. Had Emma not known any better, she would have said that the figure had no face at all.

"Larry, baby, bring us two cups of coffee, will ya?"

The lady sat down at a table and waited for Emma to follow her example. Emma did not refuse and sat down in front of her, attentive to every detail.

"Nobody's gonna eat you, hun. Not here at least." She said, amused, after noticing the disturbed expression on Emma's face.

“Who are you?”

“Not important. And I don’t care who you are either, so no need to exchange names.” She fixed her lipstick and thanked the green-coated figure who placed two mugs of coffee in front of them.

"I hope you’re a coffee drinker, sugarpie."

Oh, if only you knew.

Emma nodded and raised the cup to her lips, stopping abruptly. She remembered it wasn't a good idea to consume something from the Ferox. Her thought process was clearly spelled out on her face, because the lady laughed and urged her to drink. "If someone wanted to kill you, they would have done it in a more fun way than poisoning you with a cup of coffee. Besides, nobody kills corrupt angels around here. No one wants to get in trouble with their masters.”

Emma wasn’t convinced. The lady had to take a mouthful from Emma’s cup to prove it wasn’t spiked. It could have been a substance designed to affect angels, but Emma was too focused on the task at hand to consider the possibility of a deadly beverage further.

"What is the matter with Lady Valmort?"

"So you're new here," she concluded, same as the frog guy. She added three tablespoons of sugar to her coffee and stirred it. Emma's leg moved restlessly up and down like a stressed rabbit. Could she hurry up and answer the question?

"She is Lucian Valmort's daughter. You must have heard of him.”

"I’ve heard some things,” Emma nodded, hiding her scratchy expression.

“He's the boss around here. Every time his daughter or someone from his team comes, everyone goes crazy - people want to impress, as if inspection was coming. They put their best products on sale.”

Lucian Valmort caused a ruckus over the three realms. The mere mention of his name struck fear into angels and demons alike. Though rarely seen, nothing that happened in Ferox escaped his notice.

His spies lurked in every corner. Any demon might be working for him—or ready to sell you out for a bit of extra coin. You couldn't trust anyone.

“The Dark King."

"Indeed. Many say that he used Nox's disappearance to propel himself- people need a leader, you know? He's powerful, handsome, and well-spoken. And an incredible businessman feared all around. Naturally, he rose in rank."

Lucian had appeared out of nowhere as a champion of the demons, destined to lead them to victory and supreme power. "All Hail the Dark King" was scrawled on walls across the realm. The priests and priestesses of Light foresaw a dark and arduous future; they wept tears of gold as they cried of a thick, suffocating smoke coiling around every angel's neck like a serpent.

No angel who went to confront him ever returned. Their severed heads were sent back in gift boxes to the elders.

​Emma had seen the first one when she was only fifteen, and for months afterward, she was plagued by nightmares. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw white feathers stuffed into empty eye sockets.

​No one could touch him. No one could get close to his team. They were like spirits of death. The demons of Ferox feared them so much that they began to worship them like deities.

​"Did you say something about a team?”

“Ah yes, he has a lot of employees, but he has built a team of four who are his right-hand. He raised them from a young age and trained them to be his soldiers. If you’re on Lucian's bad side, you'd better pray to whichever deity you believe in. They're ruthless.”

Emma's foot pounded the floor even harder. Her hand trembled on the cup’s handle.

"Who are the four?"

"Fey - his daughter. There are two boys. A tall one with blue hair- Elias. You rarely hear him utter two words. He’s very serious -really handsome- and quite boring. Smart as a kite. He's kinda their leader."

“Then there’s the second guy. Kian. Hot as fuck, and not only in the face department- a pyromaniac with anger issues.”

“And?”

“And…their ace. The Reaper. You rarely see her; she’s assigned only to important missions. The strongest one, best assassin, likes to play cat and mouse with her prey. She’s crazy.” The lady laughed. “Pray you won’t ever be face to face with her. Nobody who does lives to tell the tale.”

Emma’s mouth suddenly went dry. These people- these demons- sounded horrifying. Dangerous. Considering that they’re Lucian's right hand, they must be the worst of the worst. His own perfectly crafted gang of criminals doing his dirty work. Foreseeable.

This could be Emma's chance to solve the mystery; she could kill two birds with one stone. By investigating Lucian and his minions, what the cause of the disappearances is, and what Lucian is planning as far as his political strategy is concerned. The woman said that Lucian is the boss, so he more than likely has something to do with the cases.

"Speak of the devil..."

A figure passed by the window - a girl of Emma's age who stood out like a diamond in a sea of ​​trinkets. The long, shiny dress, which hugged her figure, proved that to be her intention. All eyes were glued to her, like everyone suddenly turned into a moth and she was the only source of light.

Impressive.

Deceiving.

Creatures and people from everywhere came her way to offer irresistible deals. Some even got down on their knees and begged her fervently to take all their wealth in exchange for nothing - her pleased face would have been enough for them. Instead, the girl remained impenetrable, like a statue. It always happened when she came down there, so she answered with a simple, charming smile and a shaking head. Her heels echoed even over the praying demons’ voices. She walked imposingly, fearlessly, knowing that no one was above her in that place, or maybe in general. She knew her value and power. She knew that by simply lifting her finger she could destroy all those disgusting life forms that were far below her feet.

That air of superiority… Emma had met many demons in her life. They believed that just by being born demons, the world should quiver in fear. From the weakest to the strongest; all bark, no bite. But her- it really was convincing. The moment she saw her, Emma realized how difficult this job would truly be.

“Fey Valmort’,” Emma whispered.

“Bingo,” the lady laughed and clapped like a kindergarten teacher whenever the kids got an answer right. What was next? Would she give Emma a “great job!” sticker?

“What else do you know about her?” She unconsciously leaned closer to the lady.

"Whoa, why so interested?" The woman leaned against the backrest of the chair and lit a cigarette. She took two long drags before deciding to answer. Emma's skin boiled with anticipation. Fey was getting further away by the second, and Emma was staring at a sex demon playing with her patience. This was not how she thought the day would unfold.

"Miss, I’m in a hurry, I'm not..."

"Miss? You’re making me feel old!” She shook her head with a sad expression and started going off on a tangent about her insecurities as a demon making a living off of her looks.

Emma's eye twitched. She got up from the table, muttering an "I'm sorry" and a "Goodbye," after which she left five bucks on the table for coffee and left as fast as she could. The woman either didn't know anything and tried to waste time talking about nothing, or she wanted to be paid for her knowledge, and Emma wouldn't engage in either act.

She followed a line of demons, upset that Fey didn't stop at their shop, until she came across her talking to a merchant who sold amputated limbs. The massive man towered over her, but even so, Fey looked to be in charge. She leaned against the wall, much like the sex demon, with a relaxed expression on her face. Emma hid behind an abandoned counter, feeling very ridiculous because the counter was quite small and the position she had to put herself in made her back hurt. However, she had a good view of the two.

The man was playing with an ax as one would fidget with a pen. Fey remained unmoved even when it would fly too close to her face. Emma couldn’t see much resemblance between her and her father. Perhaps her features were altered by the heavy layers of make-up. Was she going to the club after? Or was this her everyday makeup?

"I have one more stop to make, at Gem’s.”

Gem?

"What’s the occasion?" asked the man, running his stained hands through his greasy hair.

"Private business," she smirked. "I'll have to get it over with as fast as I can, though," she sighed and checked her perfectly manicured hands.

"How come? Got plans?”

"As always," she shrugged and smiled slyly. "Got a date. And anyway, Gem isn't the most pleasant company."

We can agree on that.

“Another date? Who is it this time?"

"With my girl, of course. Do you take me as a cheater, Robbie?" Fey laughed, but something in her tone betrayed that she was definitely a cheater.

Emma shook her head; she couldn't get sidetracked. This could be her chance to talk to Fey.

She left the counter, careful not to be seen, then ran straight to Gem's shop.

***

What a filthy, disgusting place.

Full of boot-licker lowlifes who didn't know how to stay in their line. Fey would’ve gladly kicked them in the shin. She'd be ecstatic to feel their bones under her boot and hear their agonizing pleads. That'd teach them to stop feeling so comfortable around their boss.

Sadly, her itch couldn't be scratched. Her father always reminded her to behave and control her violent urges. Appear warm. The lowlifes were useful, and the lack thereof would be dangerous. They lacked thinking skills and were desperate for money and a higher power to guide them, now that Nox was gone- perfect minions. So, Fey reapplied her lip gloss, sprayed on some perfume, fixed that one infuriating strand of hair that kept curling upwards, and stepped inside the market.

As usual, she was bombarded by pathetic pleas and empty compliments that disgusted her more than flattered her. Despite her repulsion, she laughed and waved. She had tons to do today, which was not satisfactory. Fey didn't feel like it, but her father had sent her specifically to collect some things he needed from the market. Among them was a small roll of paper, which might seem insignificant at first glance, but it represented a very important piece of Lucian's puzzle.

And it happened to be with the most annoying person in existence.

“Gem!” Fey greeted, putting on her best act. "How have you been, my love?"

Gem snorted. "Don't call me by those nicknames, beautiful". She crawled on the ceiling all the way to Fey, letting her head swing in front of her. She cracked her neck, which made a full rotation, and each eye blinked in turn. "Alone today?"

"As you can see," Fey sighed. She grabbed her by the hair and pulled her down hard, letting a small smile emerge at the loud "thud" paired with the pained groan from the demon. Food to satisfy her appetite a little.

"Bitch-"

"I wouldn't finish the sentence if I were you," Fey warned her. Stopping the urge to step on her head, she paced around the small store impatiently. "Give me what I came for. And faster."

"Does your daddy know you're abusing his subordinates?" Gem asked. She got up and rubbed her head, mumbling a few curse words as she walked to the backroom. Her shape changed with each step. From a two-meter-tall man with bear-like muscles and lumberjack arms to arms formed by two very thick snakes that coiled around each other, fighting to land a bite. Another step and her head was replaced by that of an old woman whose skin sagged horribly and whose eyes glared disturbingly, so much so that they might've popped out.

Oh, they did.

Her eyes popped out, and as the snakes hurried to swallow them, they dissipated and were replaced by the dainty hands of a young woman who caught the eyes with precision and stuffed them back in. Gem returned to the slightly decomposed child form Fey found her in, holding the small scroll of paper.

"You should know that I deserve more appreciation after all the trouble I went through trying to get hold of this stupid piece of paper," Gem barked. "Do you know how many people I had to behead? Not to mention that suits make me sweat.”

"I'll build you a statue for your service, Gem," Fey said as she put the precious paper in her handbag.

"Was that sarcasm?"

"No," replied Fey, sarcastically. "Anyway, didn't you have something else to give me?”

"What else do you want me to give you? Isn't that what you came in for?"

“Daddy said something about an angel dagger that you got during the same mission. He needs it urgently, so,” Fey held out her hand, expecting.

"I don't know shit about a-"

"This?"

A person whom she’d never seen before walked into the room holding the dagger carefully wrapped in a satin piece of fabric. Only its handle peeked through, but it was enough for Fey to recognize it. She stepped in front and snatched up the dagger, yet paused right before throwing it into her bag like she did with the scroll.

Fey knew all of Gem’s employees, but this was a new face.

“New worker?” Fey’s curiosity took hold of her.

The girl shared a look with Gem, one that Fey couldn’t decipher. If you had asked her, it could have been interpreted as something between a plea and a warning. Perhaps a reminder? Curious .

Gem sighed like she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. Fucking pathetic; all shapeshifters were the same- whining about how hard their life was and how everyone used them for their abilities as if that wasn’t how the world worked, and as if they didn’t make millions doing it. They cry and wipe their tears with dollar bills. What was the old hag moaning about now?

“Yeah, that’s right. Old age startin’ to get to me, ya know? I need a little help.”

Fey turned her focus back on the mysterious stranger. Gorgeous, no lie. She looked at Fey with apparent boredom, but a hidden fire behind those amber eyes of hers. It lit a spark of interest in Fey; after all, nobody looked at her with something other than fear, lust, or dumb bewilderment. While heads fell after she passed by, hers didn’t. She kept her gaze up without shame and studied Fey as much as Fey studied her.

Curious.

“D’you have a name?” Fey asked, surprising herself even for taking interest in Gem’s people. Perhaps because she was pretty, and Fey loved pretty things.

“Shayla,” responded the stranger firmly. Her voice was nice to listen to. Not too deep, nor too high, with a sweetness to it. Even so, her tone was stern, pushing to be taken seriously.

“Shayla…,” repeated Fey, licking her lower lip as if tasting it. “You’re too pretty to work here.”

Gem scoffed and made a show of dismissing Fey’s words by shaking her head and aggressively rubbing her face. After each rub, her face would change color like a distressed chameleon.

The stranger- Shayla- couldn’t seem less impressed by her words. If she didn’t know any better, Fey would think she abruptly stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Instead, the corners of her lips tugged upwards, and her hand brushed her waves nervously. Or was it nerves?

“Not at all,” she said, and her smile widened. “I love this job.”

“Do you, now?” Fey asked incredulously. “I get it, you’re lying because you don’t want your boss to cut your pay.”

Shayla nodded shortly after she made sure Gem wasn’t paying attention. Of course, she lied; who would enjoy that wrench being up their ass all day? The poor girl must be terribly tormented. Perhaps that was why she acted so stiff.

“How about a break? Come with me for a smoke.“

“I don’t-“ she started to say, but Fey grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the shop, despite her boss’ complaints. She got out a pack of cigs and placed one between her lips before stuffing it back. “Y’know,” she started while lighting it, “you don’t need to be so honest. I made up an excuse to pull you out of there.”

“-don’t have cigarettes.”

“Oh, you do smoke.” Fey offered her one. “Didn’t take you for a smoker.”

“I’ve been told,” she responded, lighting it.

The stranger kept her arms close to her body, briefly moving only when she took a drag. She kicked at the rocks on the ground to pretend she had something to do. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I was feeling bad for you, love- I know your boss all too well. Overworks her people till they quit and barely throws two pennies their way. Not that business isn’t blooming- demons phone her left and right for her services. Everyone has a need of shapeshifters,” she took a long drag, the lungful burning pleasantly. She exhaled the smoke slowly, which the wind took in Shayla’s direction. “Why do you even work here?”

“Clearing some debt for Gem.”

“That wrench and her nasty favors…”

“What is that you took?”

Oh?

“Mean this?” She took out the scroll and held it between two fingers, mirroring her other hand, which held the cigarette close to her lips. Fey could barely bite back her smile. How dare she- an underpaid employee who was also in debt- ask such private questions? Never question the boss; that’s the number one rule down here.

They met ten minutes ago, and this girl showed no sign of constraint. Didn’t bite back her tongue, didn’t keep a distance, didn’t agree pathetically to what Fey had been saying, and didn’t respond like a clueless puppy wanting to be adopted. Curiously, Fey couldn’t detect any ulterior motive in her voice except pure curiosity.

The girl nodded. She kept her arms securely tightened around her body. Her posture remained rigid and her features hard as stone. Fey’s legs carried her closer to her new acquaintance. She waved the scroll in front of her face. “This, dear, is gonna help us win the war.”

Shayla’s eyebrows lifted. She finally caught her attention.

“Win the war?”

“And so much more!” Fey’s hand landed on her shoulder, making her flinch at the contact. All around them, the demons stared in awe at the interaction, never having seen their lady Valmort so comfortable around anybody before, except for the times she came down there with a special someone very rarely seen. There was huffing and puffing from the creatures, indignation at the lack of affection for them paired with weird looks attributed to this new worker never seen by anyone before.

To Fey’s surprise, Shayla stepped back, and her hand fell limply next to her torso. “Does this plan include humans, by any chance?”

"What, are you a witch?" Fey laughed. “Or just a smartass? Well done, you put two and two together. Do you want a prize?”

“I want to find out what is written on the paper. “

The stub gracefully fell to the ground before being crushed by a heel. Something serious was hidden in this person's tone - more than simple curiosity or the desire to make small talk. The scroll fell back in the purse.

"Don't you think you're sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong?"

"I think you can only find out an answer if you ask. “

​

Emma would never have imagined herself playing a role outside a theatre play. Apart from some minor roles she agreed to join out of pure pity for the theater club, fate had not promised her a career in acting. Her sister used to tell her she was a horrible liar, and Emma assumed it wasn't her forte. But it didn't matter, because in the end, when would she ever find herself in a scenario where lying would save her life?

Well, the universe worked in mysterious ways. The universe was also very funny. That's how Emma found herself in front of her enemy's daughter, with an appearance that didn't belong to her and demon blood flowing through her veins.

Before Fey moved to the next location, Emma stormed into Gem's store a second time that day, insisting that the process must be completed. Fortunately, Gem was a shapeshifter with transmissible power -meaning that as long as your body ingests a part of it, it can use it for a limited time. With the help of the witches who worked with demons within the black market for some extra money, Gem’s DNA could be extracted and injected, just like the demon blood.

Of course, Gem didn't give up her essence easily. One had to cross mountains and deserts and put the golden fleece at her feet for her to even consider it. Fortunately for Emma, the favor she had to return was directly proportional to this act.

Emma found herself facing Fey in a foreign skin, like a wolf in sheep's clothing. Or more like a sheep in wolf's clothing. Her skin burned from the foreign blood and the powers that did not belong to her. Despite the calm demeanor she was displaying on the outside, her entire system was revolting. She was simultaneously sick and hungry. The shapes were blurring and twisting in bizarre ways, and her emotions were contorting, as if someone had turned the anger knob to maximum and then smashed the control panel with a hammer.

She could barely differentiate left from right or right from left; she craved to tear off the clothes that suddenly hugged her body too tightly. She hoped Fey couldn't hear the quiver in her voice.

"You made a good point."

She hoped so. She had no idea where this whole conversation was going. She didn't know how to talk to her, how to formulate the questions to not seem suspicious, and she wanted to fight, believing Fey already suspected something was wrong. Who else would have asked such direct questions?

"It's a recipe," Fey stated plainly.

“A recipe,” Emma repeated. “For?”

“For success, of course”

Emma just blinked. She did not find that funny.

“Sheesh, tough crowd.”

“My sense of humor is kind of fried.”

Fey analyzed her, top to bottom, without speaking for a whole minute. It was getting awkward, but Emma didn’t know how to proceed. Didn’t know why Fey looked at her like a piece of meat either.

“Do you work every day?” She asked, at last.

Emma was surprised by the question. “Uh, yes?”

“Good,” she responded. “I look forward to seeing you again.”