Page 13 of The Daughter of the Devil

Dashing for the scythe, I pick it up, ignoring the searing pain that shoots through me from handling such a powerful demonic weapon. My hands burn, but I grip the scythe tightly, feeling its dark energy pulse through me. With every ounce of strength I can muster, I swing it toward the Grim.

The blade slices through the air with a deadly hiss, connecting with the Grim's back and cutting deep into its skeletal frame. The creature lets out an unearthly shriek, its grip on Alistair loosening. Black ichor oozes from the wound, and the Grim's bony fingers twitch and falter.

Fueled by adrenaline and anger, I press my attack, swinging the scythe again and again. Each strike lands with a satisfying crunch, chipping away at the Grim's bones and tearing through its decaying flesh. The creature's shrieks grow weaker, its movements more erratic.

The only one allowed to hurt my pet is me, and I'll be damned if I allow anything to kill him. With one final, powerful swing, I decapitate the Grim, its head rolling away and disintegrating into dust. The body collapses in a heap of bones and tattered robes, the dark energy dissipating.

As the scythe wisps through the air, the torturous screams of the Grim ring through my ears, making me drop the weapon. Clenching my hands, I watch Alistair sit up, the wounds already healing but the blood still staining his shirt. Kneeling down to him I touch his chest just to make sure I wasn't imagining things – that he really is okay. He grabs the back of my hand and looks in my eyes, there seems to be more regard for me than the gaping holes in his chest. As his eyes deepen in color to a human brown, they open wide in surprise and the realization hits me just as quickly. Spinning our heads to see Sierra standing with a fluffy paw hand on her hip and the head of her costume underneath the other arm she raises an eyebrow at us.

"So, magic is real, right?" She queries. Not really sure of any other way to respond, I nod. Her lips spread into a booming smile as she jumps up, dropping the head and clapping, "I knew it!"

The walk back through the grounds is an awkward one. I don't know what to say to a human about what they just saw. Alistair feels uneasy to stand next to and my throat is still raspy from the encounter, so maybe if we say nothing-

"So, what are you?" Sierra questions, looking at Alistair to her right. He looks at me over her, looking for approval I suppose but I just shrug.

"The solid truth?" He confirms.

"Of course, I can handle it. You're my friends and you protected me before." As we continue to walk through the grassy plains, surrounded by hundreds of children and adults. Each completely occupied but whatever is popping up out of nowhere, haunted houses and candy.

"I'm one of Hell's demons. I serve Lucifer and his family." Sierra stops walking and stares at him.

"So like, the horns and tattoos, earrings and stuff that's all the real you?" He physically answers by nodding his head slowly. "That's sick. Are you a demon, too?" She continues, turning to me with a face full of hope and fascination.

"No, I'm…"

Alistair answers in my place, "Morgana had an incident, and we're fixing it. But in her true form, she's Lord Lucifer's daughter, the Heir to Hell and the Princess of Darkness. Daughter of a fallen angel and with that comes some pretty sick demonic powers." Sierra's mouth drops - if she didn't have skin her jaw might have hit the ground.

"Are you serious?" She smacks my shoulder, what a strange sensation. "If you are messing with me I'm going to be so upset but this is literally the coolest thing ever. This is crazy! My friends are demons!" Demon? Disgusting, but I'll let it go for now. Surprising she sees this as a plus. "I'm jealous of your powers, can you show me something cool?"

"I can't use magic anymore." I state firmly. This time her expression changes to one similar to grief, or pity. I'm not sure which but being pitied is not something I expect to feel okay about right now.

"Oh, that sucks. Is it like a temporary thing?"

"I don't know. If it's permanent, find a cliff to push me off."

"Uh," She wasn't sure what to say but clears her throat instead, ", well, if there's a way to fix it – I'll help. That's why you were asking about daggers and stuff, right?"

"Smart human."

Sierra giggles in response, "What was that thing before?"

"A Grim." Alistair practically spits, "But it wasn't supposed to be here. That particular Grim was far gone, completely consumed by death and has lost all connection to their human form. Basically an evil spirit, though its motivations to attack my lady is beyond my comprehension."

"Why do you call her 'My Lady'?"

"She's my Master, and I'm her willing servant." I scoff slightly.

"I mean willing is a stretch. Your family's blood servitude is built into you. You can't resist my commands."

"Of course. But even so, I would still follow your command."

"Yeah, sure you would. Let's go home. I'm done with the surface right now."

"Wait!" Sierra bursts out, "Are you seriously telling me you still live in Hell? That's so wicked!"

Alistair's face is solemn as we enter my room. He's just standing near the door waiting for something to happen. Touching my shoulders I feel the bruises from Darren's aggressive force, so I suppose I will be wearing nothing but long sleeves for a little while. Walking over toward the mirror I can see that there are marks on my neck from the Grim trying to choke me to death. Make-up will be the best way to go here. But tonight was too much, and I feel uneasy.

Walking over to Alistair I place my hands on his chest, checking once again that the holes in his shirt are no longer accompanied by holes in his skin. He's fine. Not even a scratch.

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