Author's Preface
“Good,” she responded. “I look forward to seeing you again.”
A shuddering exhale escaped Emma’s parted lips. Her aching body gave out, no longer putting up with the burden of its façade. She grabbed the knob to Gem’s store and tore the door open with the little force left in her trembling arms, collapsing to the floor.
It all hurt so bad.
“I told ya, you won’t be able to handle it,” Gem pointed out cockily, picking at her teeth with a sharpened bone.
Emma blinked away the tears and bit down on her lip, tasting the metallic fluid. Spikes poked at her skin as if a puffer fish had been stuck under her flesh, scraping and digging with every movement. Gem’s figure blurred until she split into two unclear figures dancing around Emma’s messed-up vision.
She looked between the two Gems, hoping to have gotten the general direction right. “You said I’d get used to it!”
“Don’t get greedy now, blondie. Thank your missing holy Barbie you didn’t turn to ash. The demon blood chews you up and spits you out before you get used to it.”
Emma groaned, immediately regretting having done so thanks to the sudden sharp pain in her lungs. Damn all, she didn’t think it would be so bad. Or rather, she didn’t think at all. She planned to put the plan into action in a less rushed manner. Fey’s visit ruined any attempt at planning. She jumped headfirst into unknown territory, and now Fey took notice of her existence. On the bright side, she couldn’t sense her angelic powers.
“How did you even survive this?”
Emma’s throat barked a broken chuckle. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Fey returned home late that night. The air was filled with the promise of rain. It had been raining a lot lately.
The wind whipped her silver hair in all directions, pulling her out of her reverie. It wasn't until she stepped through the door that the rebellious locks settled contentedly back in place.
What a nuisance.
"Took you long enough," Kian called out from where he was slumped on the couch. "Been out cheating?"
Fey was ready to ignore his snarky remark, but she changed her mind at the last second. "Something of the sort," she responded, taking off her coat.
"Why so secretive? Evil already knows about your other hookups."
Saying it like it should be a big secret. Fey puffed. She sat down gingerly, opposite Kian and Elias, who, as per usual, was quiet as a ghost. Fey lit up a cigarette and threw one heel at him.
"Elias, honey, shut your friend up before I come and do it myself. "
Elias looked up from his book, as unimpressed as ever, and nudged Kian with his elbow before going back to the text. His attempt proved futile, shockingly. Kian opened his mouth to insult her in turn, but Fey wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
"Gem has a new worker."
The name left Kian confused enough to forget his vengeance. "Gem? The old shape-shifting wrench?"
"Old's an understatement. Decomposing."
"Is she able to work still?" asked Elias.
"Who cares if she's able?" Kian responded. "Certainly not her. She makes millions from all the fuckers kissing her feet for her services."
"What does she offer?"
"Whatever you ask. That's the shtick."
Gem had made quite a name for herself by doing dirty work. Most shapeshifters had at least some kind of limits, unlike that maniac. The dirtier the work, the higher the price. She would confront Nox by herself if you paid high enough. Talk about work ethic.
Lucian called her not because he didn't have more reliable people to work for him, but because Gem had a huge mouth and big ambitions that always dug her hole. She'd come out of it full of debts. Bigger or smaller, more or less important. Fey didn't know the details, but nobody had the guts to refuse to pay their debt to Lucian.
"What about that worker?"
"She captured my interest."
"Everyone captures your interest nowadays," Elias pointed out.
Was that supposed to be an insult? Sure, Fey liked to get around. She was known for getting terribly bored so quickly. The poor girl needed some form of entertainment, else she'd simply perish. Perishing wouldn't do. The world needed her light. The Earth needed Fey's presence to turn. It was exactly because she was such a good person that she indulged in her mild addiction.
Kian sighed theatrically, a small flame dancing between his long fingers. Fey followed the little light with interest as she waved off Elias' earlier remark and chose not to disclose the core of her humble act.
"What do you want?" Kian asked. "Keep her as a pet?"
"Might as well." Fey liked her lips, smirking at the thought.
"Painfully careless, aren't you?"
"Please, as if you're such a saint. What's with the attention on me today?"
"Never thought you'd ask that question."
Fey rolled her eyes. "So?"
"Your daddy stopped by earlier. Got a job."
"Who does he want?" She propped her feet on the coffee table.
"All of us. Supplying the stock."
"Which stock?"
"Providers."
"Those are difficult." She stretched her arms up, shuddering as her bones cracked, then grabbed a nail file from the table and mindlessly shaped her already perfect manicure.
Providers. Fey let out an internal laugh at the simplicity of the name. Perhaps calling them women was too mundane. It clashed with the echoed pleading and kicking and the horrific screams.
The operation was hanging by a thread thanks to the discovery of a quicker alternative. But the providers remain simply as lab rats. Maybe they could push out something with a little more self-awareness, given the right dosage of drugs.
Their screams were too loud and the fetuses disgusting. Nothing artistic about deformed pests; it couldn't compare with the morbid longing for a classic cold-blooded killing.
"Didn't they stock up a week ago?"
"High dosage. They died."
"Weaklings."
"All of them died?" Elias asked, shaken out of his daydreaming.
"Some of them. Most of them."
"It's a dead end anyway!" Fey groaned and kicked the table. "Daddy wouldn't listen. The children are more than sufficient."
Elias leaned his face on his hand. "How else could we make scientific progress?"
Fey laughed. Lucian loved that phrase just as he loved his cigarettes and expensive cologne. And daughter, on a lucky day.
"Fuck that. I wanna have fun! I feel old age creeping already."
"Yeah, it's showing," Kian said.
Fey threw a heel his way, only missing his head by a millimeter.
Days passed, and Fey didn't even bother holding back her curiosity. Earlier that week, she had asked the mysterious stranger about her work program, hoping to see her again, if the universe made it so. But after waiting for two days, Fey's impatience got the better of her; how could she call herself a powerful and independent woman if she didn't take the matter into her own hands? So she stopped by Gem's shop again.
Shayla wasn't at work, curiously enough. Fey thought she had gotten the work hours wrong. Gem turned up instead, seemingly panicked, saying her employee was out running some errands. After an hour that felt like forty years, Shayla came, wearing the most dreadful expression on her face. Evidently more sickly than last time Fey saw her.
"Got the flu or something?"
Shayla shook her head, saying it was more like "a bug or something". Oh boy, and what a bug that must've been. Droplets of sweat dripped down her forehead, and her eyes stared ahead, unfocused and absent.
Fey pulled a handkerchief out of her purse and grabbed Shayla's chin. She dabbed her forehead with the cloth, surprised at the temperature of her skin.
"You're burning up."
"Am I?" She asked back, dazed, patting her cheeks absently. "I'm sure it's not too bad. I hardly feel any heat."
Fey chuckled. "Because you're touching your face with your already hot palm." She tucked the handkerchief into Shayla's pocket. "Why don't you ask the wrench for a day off?"
"She won't accept."
"She will if I ask her"
"You don't need to."
" I don't, but I want to." Her foot already stepped forward, planning to start a fight with the dried prune lying on her ass and picking at her nose.
"Why?"
Such a simple question. What would be a proper answer?
"Why not? Can't I be nice to you?"
"But why would you be? Why visit me at work?"
Fey didn't entirely know. The only thing she understood for sure was the magnetism of this seemingly insignificant person she had only just met. A mere dog working under a money-hungry bitch. Gorgeous, sure, with those huge doe-like eyes the color of glistening bronze and tamed waves much the same shade. But also, those eyes were a tad too sunken, and a pair of eye bags accompanied them. The curls weren’t wild by any means, yet slightly frizzy if you looked closely. She was barely taller than Fey and kind of scrawny for someone doing so much manual labor. Attractive, but nothing out of the ordinary.
She had a fragile presence about her, something frail and vulnerable in the way her arms cradled herself like she was hiding the secrets of the world. Something vulnerable in the way her eyes scanned her surroundings so wearily. Nevertheless, Fey could see something fierce in her gaze- burning fires behind those irises. She looked Fey in the eye like she had nothing left to lose. She wasn’t afraid of Fey or anyone else passing by. Every movement was deliberate and grounded.
This walking contradiction of a person gave her trouble. Trouble not only in guessing her motives but in figuring out anything about her. Her personality was as much of a mystery as an untold story. She barely spoke, really, but every word held a kind of weight. And the utter lack of care regarding Fey's status was so refreshing she could cry.
However, it stung.
Nobody ever had the guts to treat her with such disinterest.
"Let's just say you caught my eye."
Shayla stood unblinking, brows creased in disbelief beyond words. Her lips were slightly parted, a frown making its way right at the base of her nose. What a reaction. Not a delighted amazement, but mere confusion and something Fey couldn't quite put her finger on.
How very curious it was not to be venerated.
"Well then, sugar pie, I get the feeling I'm not wanted.”
"You're leaving?"
Fey laughed a delightedly at the slight panic in her voice. "Why, did you want me to stay longer?" Shayla didn’t answer. As expected.
"Don't answer that; I like the thrill. I'll be back. I have some business to attend to."
***
“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”
That's all she's heard in the last two weeks from Moon and Roman, who, bless their hearts, were worried beyond belief about Emma's physical condition. Emma couldn't just tell them, "Yes guys, im fine, just experiencing some side effects from all the demon blood I injected into my veins."
Emma knew going into this that it wouldn't be an easy process. After all, the demon blood would have left her a puddle of matter on Gem's floor if not for her demon DNA. However, she thought she had more time before jumping in. She could have gone to Gem and started with small doses so her body could gradually get used to the blood. She didn't think she would have to inject herself with the maximum dosage first thing. Her body was going through a very uncomfortable cycle between trying to heal by purging out the blood and being stopped by said blood.
No one, as far as she knew, had ever done this experiment before, so Emma had no idea how her body would react to such stress, and the thought of the possible outcomes made her even more stressed, and therefore, sicker.
Zachriel sent her a bunch of reports with the results of the tests done on the goo monster. She only managed to decipher one page before she started shaking violently. She asked Moon to light the fireplace, and Moon, confused by Emma’s shivering, was startled by the temperature of her skin.
Emma tried to play it as something insignificant. But how could she lie and say it was just a cold when angels couldn’t catch colds? Their accelerated healing wouldn’t have allowed such symptoms to bother her unless it was something serious, and Emma’s head ached too much to think of an excuse that made sense.
Moon’s pacing made her dizzy. She could hear her roommate's gibberish in the background, something about Zachriel and a healer and toxic goo, but nothing made sense, and her muscles were tense, and her eyes were boiling in their sockets.
How much longer did she have to wait to get out of this unbearable pain? She couldn't work in these conditions, and worse, she had to appear perfectly healthy in front of Fey.
Fey.
What a twist her plan had taken. Sure, the original plan was to tiptoe through the demon world to eventually find a lead, but who would have thought she would run into the famous - or infamous - Fey Valmort? Moreover, who would have thought Fey would like her? Or find her interesting, at least.
So interesting that she took her own time to look for her “at work”. Emma woke up with a panicked Gem who wouldn’t shut up about how Fey was looking for a certain Shayla who was supposed to be at work and how she couldn’t wait any longer.
So Emma gathered her strength, swallowed back the bile that was threatening to burst out, and went to have a very confusing conversation with Lucian Valmort’s daughter.
All conversations with Fey were difficult to decipher. She spoke in code, used puns and metaphors that Emma wasn’t supposed to understand. She was an enigma. She appeared and disappeared like a phantom- a hallucination of the popular girl who paid attention to you. Talking to Fey brought back unpleasant memories from middle school.
She didn't understand who could have liked her. From her short time with Fey, Emma could already see through her and her perfect-girl act. She had somewhat of an intoxicating, addictive aura that made you want to be around her, to get her approval. But so did popular girls anywhere. There was a herd effect. There was some appeal to be led by someone supposedly stronger than you. To put someone on a pedestal and bathe in their never-ending grace, washing out your own imperfections.
Fey wasn't special; she just thought she was special. Her father was the most powerful man in the demon world today. He had a special prestige. Being conventionally attractive only added the cherry on top. She fed herself with attention like any other demon, especially one raised in wealth and bathed in compliments. Fey's inquisitiveness about Emma was nothing more than a desire to train her.
The flaw of the plan was that she had to play into it. She had to play dumb and let Fey guide her in the right direction. She had to do whatever she wanted because the queen wouldn't accept refusal. That's why she was now sitting with her on the roof of the abandoned building in the middle of nowhere, subtly wiping away the tears produced by the unbearable pain in her chest and the burning in her veins that traveled like acid through every inch of her body.
"Don't you think the stars are gorgeous tonight?"
She wasn't impressed by the stars in the least, but nodded to please her.
"What is your favorite constellation?"
God, what kind of questions-
"The Phoenix."
"The Phoenix," she repeated, intrigued. "Why?"
Emma shrugged, looking up at the sky.
"My...my mother used to tell me stories," she curled a strand of hair with her finger, "about how powerful the Phoenix was, and, well," Emma shrugged again.
"Well, what?" Fey scooted over, closer to Emma, as if wanting to hear better.
"It symbolizes resilience. Rebirth. I always... I guess, looked up to its ability to die and have the strength to rise every time." She shifted, uncomfortable from the sudden vulnerability she expressed. Why was she telling her this? "Anyway, there's not much to it."
Fey only looked at her in response. She stared so intently that Emma wanted to turn her head and break the invisible thread connecting her to the other's stare. Just when she wanted to add something and break the tension, Fey laughed. A hearty laugh, with a childlike innocence.
"You’re really…something."
Again, vague answers. What could Emma get out of this line? What answer to give? Emma was not a charismatic person to begin with, and Fey made her job all the more difficult.
“Have you ever felt like this?”
Emma didn’t answer. Fey was expecting it and continued talking without giving her time to think about a possible reply.
"I did."
Emma couldn’t stop the astonishment from showing on her face in time, but Fey just smiled. She anticipated her reaction. This time she didn’t laugh; she just looked straight ahead, swinging her legs.
“I’m not gonna go all deep and sentimental with you, sugarpie, don’t worry. I just felt like saying it.”
“It just seems so…”
“Incomprehensible?” Fey lit a cigarette. “Sometimes you dig your own grave. So many lies and nobody believes you anymore.” She took a prolonged drag and exhaled it slowly. “But never mind that. How was work?”
A laugh almost escaped from Emma’s throat; she couldn’t help it, not after the sudden mood change. “ Good.”
“Oh, come on, you never give me answers I can work with!”
“Right back at you.”
“Ah, you don’t have to put me in the spot. I’m the most straightforward person you’ll ever meet!” She put on a god-awful assuring expression with a layer of mockery underneath. Emma never expected anything else either way. “Fine, you get to ask me one,” she raised her index finger, “question, and I’ll answer truthfully.”
Oh, how Emma doubted that. How effortless it was for Fey to lie - it was as easy as breathing. She hadn't known her long, and she already learned it was a universal rule - never ask Fey anything and expect an honest answer.
"What did Gem's note say? 'The recipe for success?' "
Fey smirked and took another puff of her cigarette. Seconds of silence passed by, turning into minutes that came as confirmation of the absence of an answer. Until...
"A recipe for a drug."
"A drug?"
"A substance. An injectable, not exactly addictive- but it could be. Depends on the test subject."
"The test subject?" Emma could only repeat her answers, hoping this train of honesty wouldn't stop midway to its destination. Fey smiled at her again, but not a friendly smile. An unsettling grin that didn't quite reach her eyes.
“Kids.”
Emma’s whole body went rigid. The past feeling of lava traveling through her veins was instantly replaced by ice-cold terror. Like a pin dropped in water, the reverberations spread throughout her body and mind with newly found understanding.
“You’re drugging kids.”
And it wasn’t a question because there was no more room for doubt. Attacks all over the country focused solely on kindergartens and nurseries- kids going missing left and right, and a rise in monsters tumbling all over and thrashing cities. They…
“We’re building an army.”
Emma felt the blood leaving her face, a clammy sensation spreading throughout her body. She blinked, trying to seem as unaffected as humanly possible but- fuck-. This shouldn’t even surprise her anymore, but in this sorry state she was in, the blow nauseated her twice as hard.
“It’s-“
“Isn't it such a great idea?!” Fey squealed. “It was a lot of trial and error, but we’re on the path of perfecting this thing. Fewer children die now, and more survive to become demons. What better way to multiply our weapons and take over the human population?! Ah, Daddy’s a genius.”
Of course, it was Lucian’s idea.
Fey grabbed her arm in another burst of excitement. Her eyes glistened like a Christmas tree, delight engulfing her every feature. “Wanna see?!”
“See what?” Emma asked and hoped Fey couldn’t sense the anxiety in her voice.
“The factories!”
And they went. Emma let herself be dragged by Fey through unfamiliar streets to see her father's great work of art: a factory of massacre. A factory where kidnapped children, children who didn't know what was happening to them, and where their parents were tied up and kept in cages like animals, starved and beaten until it was their turn to be guinea pigs. They arrived in front of one of the factories, a smaller one where "not much happens," according to Fey; it just happened to be the closest and had recently been "supplied" with providers.
"There's another delivery coming tonight."
And Emma stood, biting her nails, in front of the dilapidated building, in the cold, with Fey, who couldn't stop talking. Only after half an hour did a medium-sized, dirty truck arrive, with the logo of a famous catering company, and if Emma wasn't already feeling nauseous, the sight of the truck definitely did the trick. A guy about their age got out of the truck, tall and dressed in black from head to toe. He came straight to Fey, and they started talking, but Emma's brain was too foggy to register much of their conversation.
Apart from a "Who is she?" she wasn't acknowledged any further. He threw a few acid lines at Fey, who dismissed them like it was second nature. It means they knew each other and got along quite well. Could it have been...?
And on cue, as if she had read her mind, Fey told Emma, "Meet Kian. He's an asshole."
So he was the second of the four members of the team. Was it luck that had landed Emma, or sheer bad luck? Still, she was making progress. She kept telling herself this. She was making progress. She was getting answers, no matter how horrible they were.
Emma scanned Kian quickly from head to toe and nodded respectfully, saying her own name. She got a sharp scowl back. “Don't cause trouble,” was all he said.
From the driver’s seat came the third person, and Emma thought she had hit a hellish jackpot. A guy, tall, lanky - gave the air of a basketball player dressed in expensive silk. The juxtaposition of his dark skin and those bright blue locks made way for an unexpected yet pleasant palette.
“And this is Elias.”
Elias paid her no mind.
“Now what?” asked Emma.
“Now, the boys should get their shit together and take out the contents.”
Kian rolled his eyes and opened the trailer. Inside, about a dozen women aged from their twenties to mid-thirties lay unconscious, stacked up on top of one another in a gruesome pyramid. Emma’s eyes widened, but she schooled her expression in time to avoid being noticed. One by one, the women were carried inside by the two guys, who remained visibly unaffected by the grotesque act.
Fey crossed her arms. “Good lot.”
“I thought you said you only tested on kids.”
“Sure, mostly. First tries were on women, but most die, or if it does work, it takes a while for the product to come out, y’know?”
“So why?”
“Why kidnap them? They’re lab rats.”
Emma frowned. The women carried inside disappeared in the darkness. A few splashes of blood on the pavement from the ones with visible concussions were the only indication of their existence.
“Wanna go inside?”
Emma didn't want to. Regardless, Fey grabbed her by the arm and pulled her inside. She let herself be pulled into the dark abyss where all she could feel were Fey's sharp nails digging into her skin. The strong smell of acetone and acids assaulted her nose aggressively; tens of pungent smells like solvents and sulfur. The echo of their footsteps was the only sound she could hear, besides the voices of the boys ahead.
Someone turned on the light. Emma covered her eyes with her arm to shield them, and it took a good few minutes for her vision to return. It strangely reminded her of having sleepovers with her sister as kids; all lights out, because Evil used to tell ghost stories and scare Emma silly. Their mom would sneak up on them and catch them in the act, turning on the light and blinding them for a few seconds, and she used to jump in bed with them and hug both.
When Emma's vision returned, it was filled with horrors: rows upon rows of cages and more unconscious women with their hands and feet tied. Each had a chain around her neck, like a dog seized by its master; they were either naked or dressed in rags that had once been a bunch of sorry hospital gowns. Their forearms were covered with a series of numbers.
"Ahead are the laboratories, but here we keep the test subjects.”
The lights flickered, casting eerie shadows over the scene. A low groan sounded from the closest cage, and a woman’s eyes fluttered in a helpless attempt to wake up. Her fingertips twitched once, twice, three times before going back to their inertia. Emma gulped.
Fey’s heel made contact with the metal bars. Another groan escaped the woman’s lips, and her lids jerked violently, as if in a nightmare she couldn’t wake from. “This one’s waking up. She’s noisy.”
“What do you want me to do, muzzle her?” replied Kian.
“Tear out her vocal cords or some shit. Figure it out.”
Emma closed her fist around a piece of fabric, squeezing it until her knuckles turned white. In the face of it all, in the midst of chains rustling, pained hums, and sadistic giggles, it grounded her enough to keep her identity hidden.
“So? What do you think?” asked Fey, with that dammed grin again. It gave her chills.
“It’s…impressive.”
“Isn’t it?! Ah, I knew you’d love it.”
Emma wanted to leave. Wanted to lie in bed, never having to deal with shit like this again. How come life brought her to the point of having to shoulder such atrocities? And act unimpressed, to top it all off. She tore her gaze away from the scenery and focused it on Fey. Fey, who stood smiling like a little kid, genuinely proud of having shown her this cool thing she got.
Her dry throat struggled to put the sounds together to form a sentence. Or even a word. She nodded, straining to stretch her face into a smile. But it sufficed because Fey’s smile blazed brighter.
Right then, a figure dashed past them, so quickly neither of them had the time to react. The rush of cool air sent a chill down her spine, forcing her to take a step towards Fey, who grabbed onto her arm again. Emma turned and could barely make out a small figure dressed in a robe, with disheveled hair swaying wildly, whose breath was ragged as she barreled toward the exit before the line was cut.
In mere seconds, the girl was sent back flying with such speed that Emma hadn’t registered what she’d seen until she heard a loud bang, and the girl made contact with the concrete wall and slid down slowly, leaving a trail of red behind. She sat there, eyes lifelessly staring into space, as more blood pooled all around her.
Steps echoed throughout the room. A new pair, because none of the four already present got the chance to move an inch.
A fifth person entered. Her steps echoed like cracked skulls. Like shots fired. The air in the room suddenly got too heavy to bear. Emma squinted, trying to figure out what she was seeing. Or rather, who.
It felt like an eternity until the figure stepped into the light, and in that moment, Emma’s heart stopped. The shock resonated like a collision between past and present, tearing through the fabric of time, making her question her own senses.
Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes blinked in hopes the image before her wasn’t a trick of light. Everything faded- the groans, the cries, the screams, the dead girl, the greetings- all insignificant. Nothing else existed at that moment. Not Fey tearing herself away from Emma to go hug her, not Kian scolding her for being late and making a mess, not Elias saying he’ll clean it up, or even the suspicious look she gave Emma once they locked eyes.
She…was alive. She-
“Who the hell are you?”