Chapter 3
THREE
LONDON, ANTHROPA, YEAR 1943
The city of London is in disarray. Buildings are collapsed. Some are totaled to the ground while others sway with every little breeze, ready to tip over. The air is filled with the smell of powdered concrete, rubber, and death.
Yet despite the destruction all around, people continue on with their lives.
The night sky is clouded, the moon barely visible.
I’ve been in Anthropa for a few months now, and I don’t think I’ve seen a clear sky in all that time. It’s always foggy, dark…foreboding.
When I decided to join Kai’s regiment, I suppose I hadn’t thought of everything this mission would involve.
It is war, yes. I’m killing demons, yes.
But it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the casualties all around me.
Daily, I see people die. Horrible, asinine deaths. And for what? What is the point of this war? Why do so many innocents have to die?
I take a bite out of my sugar-glazed donut as I walk down a dimly lit street. It’s getting close to the blackout time, and people are frantically running up and down the street, trying to get to their homes in time before darkness sets in.
There are, of course, some unsavory figures who wait for the darkness to come to commit nefarious acts. Unfortunately, I have seen plenty of those, too.
Like any person capable of empathy, my first instinct is to help. But I am bound by my own laws, and I cannot intervene even in a small incident since it might ricochet and have unintended consequences on people’s lives.
Fate. Such a tricky thing. Even something so little as a walk on a bustling street can be a pivotal moment in someone’s life.
I take another bite of my donut.
Food, too, is scarce around here. People are living on rations, and the portions are not only small but also have a questionable taste.
I went through so much trouble to procure this one donut from the so-called Yanks. They have a base not too far from London and have brought with them some of their products—a fact that makes the British very jealous.
I would be, too, if those Yanks had sugary goodness while the British have…potatoes.
Not that potatoes are bad. In fact, they, like any other vegetable, have their purpose. But when everything becomes about potatoes… Well, then I can see why people would tire of them.
There are, of course, other available items, but they are in short supply. Meat, in particular, is scarce to come by, unless you have the money to purchase it from the black market.
I suppose things are better in the countryside where people grow their own produce, but how many people can boast about that?
London is the most populous city in the entire of Anthropa. I can’t imagine how many people are suffering and going without because of the lack of resources.
For the first time since I can remember, I hate war.
From the corner of my eye, I note a small child of about eight or nine staring at me. His clothes are dirty and torn, and his face is smudged with dirt.
To be more precise, he’s staring at my donut, not at me.
I swallow against the immediate discomfort.
His eyes glisten with longing in the shadowy light of a street lamp. Not a moment after, his stomach growls loudly in hunger.
I shouldn’t do this, but I cannot help myself.
In a couple of steps, I am in front of the child and hand him my leftover donut, together with the little food I had left in my pouch.
His eyes widen in shock and I can tell he’s ready to refuse. I open his palm and place the items in his hand before I leave without looking back.
Not a moment ago, I was giving myself a mental lecture about the importance of not intervening in mortals’ lives. That small quantity of food could have very well made the difference between life and death. And though I know I might get told off if that is the case, I find that I cannot turn a blind eye to this type of suffering.
The image of the starving child remains with me as I continue walking aimlessly.
The streetlights go out one by one. The buildings still inhabited go dark too. Some people turn off their lights while others pull heavy, dark curtains over the windows to trap any light inside.
In a matter of moments, everything is pitch black.
Cars are still driving on the street, though there is almost no visibility. A few cries erupt in the air from people who barely avoid getting hit. It’s the same situation every day, except sometimes they do get hit.
I take a deep breath and try to ignore the commotion around me. As I keep walking, I devote my attention to scanning the area for demons. Nighttime is the perfect opportunity for them to roam around in search of victims. As if the war casualties are not enough.
I walk for close to a mile before I stop, my senses on alert.
They’re near.
I tilt my head to the side and close my eyes.
One. Two? Maybe three demons.
They’re not far from me.
I focus on the tingling sensation I get when a demon is nearby and follow it as it intensifies.
Eventually, I end up in front of a three-story building.
On the outside, it’s as quiet and dark as the rest of the buildings on the street. The windows are all firmly shut and there isn’t any flicker of light coming out from the inside.
I sharpen my hearing, and that’s when the sounds come through.
Music.
Loud chatter.
The clinking of glasses.
I narrow my eyes.
A party. And it’s coming from the basement.
I circle around the building a few times, trying to find the entrance, until it dawns on me that the way into the basement is by going down the stairs at the front of the building—the servant’s entrance as they call it.
I could, of course, teleport inside—or attempt to. But I can only teleport to a precise location if I’ve visited it before. Given that it’s a new place, the basement of a building nonetheless, I could end up falling from the ceiling in the sea of people. Considering the fact that I’m trying to keep a low profile, that would not be appropriate.
I knock on the door, and as it semi-opens, someone demands a password.
I frown.
Placing my foot between the door and the frame, I push it open and move past the person at the door. I wink at him as I erase my presence from his mind.
A long, winded dark corridor leads to the main room. There are no windows here, and the few in the back have been barricaded with pieces of wood so no light can sneak out. The light inside is strong, but the thick cloud of smoke from the cigarettes makes it uncomfortably irritating.
Everyone is smoking. Left, right. Males, females.
They’re puffing their cigarettes and blowing clouds of smoke into the air.
My nose twitches.
I inhale sharply. The tingle continues. My eyes water and I lose my way through the bustling crowd. Someone even blows smoke in my face—the last thing I needed.
The tingling intensifies until I can no longer contain my sneeze.
I release a loud wheeze, followed by a harsh cough. My throat itches.
I’ve seen people smoke before but not on this level. How can they breathe in this noxious air?
My lungs? They can heal. Their lungs?
T.S.
I smile to myself, proud of my new vocabulary that helps me assimilate with those humans.
Although good thing they like to use abbreviations because tough shit just sounds vile. T.S., on the other hand, is more palatable. Of course I have been taught not to swear in any language I might speak. Not only is it highly disrespectful but it is also a sign of bad breeding.
My parents may have been rather autocratic, but they did provide me with a perfect education from my cradle—despite the fact that they are now bent on seeing me stop all my educational endeavors and simply devote myself to my future mate.
Ew.
I wave around the smoke in front of me in hopes I can help the air circulate better.
The signal from the demons is getting stronger. They must be here.
But there are just too many people, and it’s not as if I can visually determine whether someone is a demon. We have a hard enough time when these demons take on humanoid appearances without minding the fate of the soul within.
Now? Not only do I have to go around and bless drinks to see who is harmed by them, but I also have to touch them with my color-changing crystal to ensure the vessel’s soul has not been consumed yet. Add to that the fact that I may also encounter high-level demons that are already humanoid on their own and my chances of success in this crowd are looking…not good.
Of course I would never complain about finding a high-level demon. Defeating one of those pests is sure to get me some notice from the higher-ups. But they are also rather…strong. One would be fine. Two? Maybe stretching it. But more than three?
I bite my lip in concentration as I try to come up with a plan.
From the corner of my eye, though, I see that the fates have decided to smile upon me.
There is an entire bowl filled with a drinking substance on the table close to the exit.
My eyes follow the movements of the humans until I am sure that bowl is where they source their drinks from. I nod to myself after I note quite a few of them serve themselves from the bowl, and I decide to start there.
Elbowing my way through the crowd—which is quite hard, seeing as I am the smallest person in the room—I attempt to reach the exit. All the human females are wearing heels, while the males are significantly taller than me. They are not as tall as some Aperites I know, but they are still towering over most females.
Their sweaty bodies move to the music, swaying from side to side.
It’s…disconcerting.
This is the first time I have been in such an environment and I do not think I like it.
So far, I have not seen the more…debauched side of Anthropa since I’ve kept to the streets mostly, away from the crowds of people.
But this? Touching and eating each other’s mouths in public? With so many people around them?
And if the murmurs I hear are to be believed, they don’t even know each other.
One soldier admits his wife is across the ocean, but he quickly tells his partner that he might die soon, so he’s going to have as much fun as he can. Then he leans in and licks her neck.
My eyes widen in shock.
Humans! Such libertines!
I cannot believe it. Why did Molokai not warn me about the obscenities I would witness here? I might have been only half-listening to his speech on Anthropa, but I am sure he never mentioned anything about their lascivious behaviors.
This is preposterous.
My mouth drops open in shock when I see a soldier’s hand go up a woman’s thigh, sneaking in under her dress until he…
“By the Source, what is this?” I mutter in disbelief.
He’s touching her. In her private place.
She throws her head back, releasing a low moan as she lets herself be fondled like that.
Madness. This is madness! I must get out of here as soon as possible. I cannot witness this debauchery for much longer or I will become ill.
I put more strength into my elbow kicks, targeting especially those couples that are far too indecent. After a lot of shoving and witnessing even more outrageous behavior, I finally make it to the bowl.
Making sure no one is watching, I dip my finger in the bowl and start chanting the blessing ritual. Once I’m done, I find a more quiet place and start observing.
Unfortunately for me, that also means observing more obscenities.
If I’d known what was happening in Anthropa, perhaps I wouldn’t have insisted on this mission.
Ah, who am I fooling? I would have insisted on it anyway since it might be my only break before I’m forced to mate that odious Theron.
I try not to look too closely at what’s happening on the dance floor, at how the bodies are writhing together, touching places that shouldn’t be touched except by a mate.
Yet I can’t deny that I’m also a little curious.
This is what my mother didn’t want me to know, isn’t it? This type of touching that is both scandalous and…intriguing.
I know the mechanics of mating—or at least I think I do. A male and a female are joined somehow and they exchange energies, after which the female becomes heavy with child, whom she later bears. I am not entirely sure how these touches I’m seeing on the dance floor relate to that, though.
I force myself to focus on the matter at hand—identifying the demons. But against my will, my eyes roam around the room, following the sighs and moans and every little hitched breath that comes with those forbidden touches.
Why?
Why do they make those sounds?
Is it pain? Pleasure? What is it exactly?
Is this what happens in Aperion too when males visit bawdy houses? They go there to watch this…? Experience it? But why? What are they getting out of this? So far, it seems that only the females are the ones being touched.
Deep in thought as I contemplate this matter of touching, I almost miss the hiss of pain that erupts through the air after a male drinks from his glass. The sound, low and harsh, filters through the loud music and reaches my ears.
My eyes flash, and I tense.
My gaze lands on the culprit just in time to see him deposit his glass on a nearby table. His face is contorted in pain that he tries to mask, but is unsuccessful.
The blessing chant works like a poison for any demonic energy. Though it is momentarily painful, depending on the level of the demon, it doesn’t take them too long to recover.
I watch his expression closely, counting down the moments it takes for him to shake the pain from his features. While this is not a foolproof method, it gives me an idea of what I’m dealing with.
Five, six…
Seven.
His face is back to a neutral expression as he shrugs off the last of the pain and puts on an affable smile.
Low level.
And seeing the way he ignores what just happened and continues to mingle around people, I realize he must be a really young demon, unaware of the power of a blessing chant—or the fact that it means an Aperite is on his trail.
Straightening my back, I make my way through the crowd, going straight for him.
The demon has possessed a tall male—well, at this point who isn’t taller than me? He has short-cropped black hair and brown eyes. He’s dressed in a military uniform like so many others in this room are, and his body language is just as sleazy.
As a young demon, I have no doubt that he still has ties to the physical realm. He might be little more than a corrupted soul, but he still remembers what it was like to be made of flesh—to use said flesh and enjoy all the perks that come with it.
Seeing the way he’s eyeing the dance floor and studying the females in a lascivious manner, I can tell his first intent is to get some of that touching action. Next is, of course, consuming the souls.
Not under my watch, demon!
I get in front of him, but he doesn’t see me.
Damn it.
His eyes are fixated somewhere above the top of my head, and with my size, it’s like I’m invisible in front of him.
He’s about to move through the crowd when I quickly improvise and throw myself against him.
“Oh, my,” I murmur, purposefully slurring my words.
He narrows his eyes at me.
“Hello, handsome,” I say and bat my lashes at him.
Ew! I’m about to gag the moment the word is out of my mouth, but alas, I am ready to sacrifice a little sweet talk for a future promotion.
He looks at me pensively for a moment before he smiles.
“Want to get out of here?” I whisper.
Say yes, please. Say yes and let’s go out where I can exorcize you or kill you—depending on whether the mortal soul inside you is still alive.
He raises a brow at me before his lips slowly curve into a smile. He nods to me to lead the way.
Giddiness suffuses me.
My first kill of the night. So what if it’s a low-level demon? It’s still something. I’ll add it to my killing collection so far and if I don’t win over Commander Azerius’ praise by quality, then at least I will do it with quantity.
I make my way through the crowd, keeping an eye on the demon to make sure he’s following behind me. We get to the hallway, and as we move past the male at the door, we’re finally out of the building.
“You have a place in mind?” he asks, his brows wiggling.
I nod and smile, beckoning him to follow me.
There is a small alleyway between buildings a few paces away. The perfect place for this demon to meet his end.
He’s dumb, too. He doesn’t even question why I’m doing this or who I am. He simply follows along.
The streets are dark, but the alleyway is even darker—if that’s possible.
Luckily, I have rather good night vision, so I am able to scan my surroundings and position myself in the best spot to attack the demon.
His shoes scrape the ground as he enters the alleyway.
Caught you!
Before he can open his mouth and say another disgusting thing, I’m on him. But whereas before I would have killed first and asked questions later, now I have to remember to take out the crystal and confirm whether the mortal soul is gone.
I roll my eyes.
Rummaging for the crystal, I push it into the man’s hand just in time to see it turn red.
Thank the Source!
Sliding the crystal back into my pocket, I will my energy to the surface. Two long ice blades descend from my hands, and I waste no time in slashing the demon in a crisscrossing motion.
The poor demon barely has time to react. Poor not because I pity him, of course. How could I pity demons and kill them in the same breath? No, no. Poor because no one taught him how to be a proper demon, and as such, this will hardly be a challenge.
He tries in vain to block the attack with his arms, but my blades are far too sharp. They cut through flesh and bone until the hands of the vessel fall to the ground.
He releases a loud sound of pain, but before he can wail some more—not that I would not enjoy that—I slash across his neck all the while murmuring a low chant to exterminate the demonic essence.
As the blood splashes out of the host, the demon struggles to keep control of the body. Despite the darkness, it’s hard to miss the shadowy smoke coming out of the dead vessel. It’s slow and aimless.
Extending my arm to the side, I will my sword to turn into a larger version, all the while murmuring the same chant.
The disoriented demon heads straight for my enlarged sword, which by now is shrouded in the holy chant. Upon contact, a sizzling sound erupts in the air as the smoke promptly disintegrates.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you kill a demon.
My swords disappear and I pat my clothes to shake off the demon dust.
A smile creeps up on my face.
One down, a few more to go.
But just as I’m about to turn, my ears pick up on another sound. It’s close and getting closer.
I swivel.
My eyes widen as I note another demon coming straight at me. But this time, he’s carrying a weapon in the form of a long knife.
I smirk.
This one seems to be a bit more knowledgeable. He’s charging at me as if he actually means to do me harm.
So he knows I kill his kind, doesn’t he?
Feeling for the crystal in my pocket, I throw it at him, waiting for the flash of light that will confirm whether I can go ahead with the kill.
But just as the crystal emits a low, red light, another set of steps echoes in the alleyway.
I barely get to react before two strong hands cup both sides of the demon’s face, and in a swift movement, they twist the head of the vessel.
It drops to the ground, lifeless.
I blink. The demonic essence fizzles out and vanishes without my ritual.
What?
I stare in shock at the fallen carcass.
“It’s not safe for a girl like you to be alone at night, darling.” A deep drawl sends shivers down my spine.
My gaze snaps up to the person who did this—the hands that snapped the neck.
He slowly walks past the fallen body and heads toward me. He’s dressed in a military uniform too, but the number of medals on his blazer are far more numerous than any of the ones I saw tonight.
He might be a higher-up? I’m not too familiar with the human military to say for certain, but I think they take their distinctions as seriously as we do.
One thing is for sure, though. He is the tallest human I’ve ever encountered. Quite easily among the tallest males I’ve ever seen, too.
Green eyes sparkle in the darkness. Full lips smile lazily at me.
But there is something else.
Half of his face is badly scarred. A harsh, jagged line starts from his temple and goes down his cheek and neck, hiding into his uniform.
There’s something about his presence. Something…imposing.
My brows knit together in a frown.
Is he an Aperite? A deity? Who is he that he can so easily kill a demon—granted, a low level, but they’re resilient bastards.
I swallow hard, a little taken aback by his presence. Especially as he continues to advance toward me.
“Who are you?” I whisper.