Page 2 of The Daughter of the Devil

Even though all demons are visible to mortals, I can be invisible to them if I so desire. They can’t see my powers though, which to them would look like black shadows moving like a Kraken’s slimy tentacles at my feet. The pitch-black scenery of the cemetery also helps disguise our presence even if they could perceive us, but it doesn't stop us from seeing them. Thanks to the demons that pledge themselves to me, I can see in the dark just as easily, despite being an Angel.

My annoyance boils into pulsing anger when I see one of the teenagers pull a can from a backpack, and start spray painting insignificant scribbles on the tombstone next to them. I feel my shadows grow under me, energy vibrating as I extend it across the rows of graves and towards my target. Suddenly, a thick white fog encapsulates the teenage boys who freeze, their measly little candles doing very little to give them visibility. Alistair looks at me with a confused expression, knowing I was responsible for the abrupt fog. I barely granted him a glance as I planned my next move. “Humans are disgusting. They can't even show the dead some respect. And if they insist on behaving like this, I’ll be more than happy to teach them a lesson.” I state in place of an explanation, turning to look him in the eyes. My pet doesn't seem very perturbed by my sadistic grin. “Go stand next to them quietly. I have a plan,” I instruct over my shoulder as I calmly start walking towards the group. The booming laughter and jokes have ceased, replaced with hush whispers, wondering what is happening. With a wave of my hand all the lampposts and candles go out with a flicker, plunging the mortals into the dark abyss. I feel my smile grow at their shocked gasps. Alistair passes me as I stop a dozen feet from the mortals, and I wait for him to become visible before calling on my powers once more. I feel the energy surge from deep within, eyes switching from blue to ruby red again. Turning over both palms toward the sky I feel my feet leaving the ground as I begin levitating forward to the pathetic thrio quivering on the ground, and place myself behind Alistair. Everyone went quiet, human intuition telling them they were in danger even if they could not see me. Taking a deep breath, I started chuckling menacingly. My hands started glowing a burning orange before igniting in a roaring blaze, flames licking in the direction of the clouds. Simultaneously all the previously unlit candles blew into a fiery rage, sending all the mortals screaming and propelling themselves backwards and away from the flames.

“Do you mortals believe the dead hold grudges?” I ask them, making my voice deeper, overlapped with more voices as if there were dozens of spirits speaking at once. The blood curdling screams once they saw Alistair standing in front of them, backlit by my flames, rivaled the ones in the dungeons. My pet plays the role of a mysterious figure haunting them well, with black horns, red eyes, and all. The screaming produced at his presence could be heard all the way from the parking lot as the mortals ran for their lives and sped away in their vehicle. I float to their abandoned campsite, drop down, fire extinguished from my hands as I burst out laughing, unable to hold it in any longer. My manacle cackles echoes in the now deserted cemetery grounds, only the dead as a witness. Well, the dead and my unamused demon. “Oh come on, Alistair. That was fun. I have to do that again sometime,” I say before bursting into tears of laughter once more after spotting him approaching me looking unimpressed.

“Yes, my lady.” He grunts, not sounding very convinced but agreeing nonetheless. As he should, he is my servant after all. That means, serving and agreeing with everything I do or say. So, I am not bothered by his tone as he is just a lowly pet demon, though an attractive one. As my laughter winds down, I order Alistair to clean up the candles, bottles and spray cans the humans left behind. I took care of disappearing graffiti that disrespectfully marked the gravestone by using my magic to erase their wrongdoings, leaving it in pristine condition. I looked to Alistair as he finished burning the rest of the items on one hand with his fire, leaving only ashes to blow away in the wind. Wearing a fitting black suit, dress pants and white dress shirt, looking sharp and well dressed like we all must be since father values appearances. Dark curls blowing in the night air, illuminated only by the bright red glow of his eyes and the fire emanating from his hands. I stared at his sharp cheekbones and square jaw a second longer before switching to his many piercings.

A small black hoop piercing on his right nostrils as well as a large black one on his septum, the last one matching the one on the middle of his bottom lip. Two sets of identical curved barbells piercing on each end of his eyebrows. And four sets of identical black piercings on each ear from cartilage to earlobe; from horns at the top, a set of skulls, an inverted crucifixes and ending with arrows on the earlobes. My eyes trail down to his neck and chin where some of his many tattoos are apparent, swerving lines and curves painting a myriad of symbols. Some are the crests of his family, others are summoning pentagrams for him, and other purposes. My thoughts wandered off as I stare.

As soon as he finishes, Alistair turns to me awaiting new instructions, pulling me back into the present. Wordlessly, we go back to patrolling the rest of the grounds, Alistair two steps behind me to my right like always. After a few minutes, I stop at a particularly large and ordinate grave to read the silver plaque. Out of nowhere, I sensed an energy stronger than anything I have ever felt in any of my excursions to the mortal world. I swiftly turned towards my left expecting to see an angel or maybe even a high ranked demon but was greeted with emptiness. “Did you feel that?” I ask Alistair, not taking my gaze away from the direction the energy originated from.

“I didn’t, my lady. Did you sense something?” His answer comes to no surprise seeing as I am Lucifer's daughter, his pure blooded lineage is the strongest Angel blood in existence. No matter that I am half-mortal, my blood overcomes any impureness of my mother’s human blood and grants me with powers that exceed any working demon’s powers.

Alistair can't sense them but I can tell they are close. “Come out and identify yourself, now.” I state into the darkness, commanding the stranger to appear. I wasn't expecting my response to be a blast of energy, shadows knocking Alistair and I on our backs. We both hit the ground, and I lay on my back for a second getting over the shock. The energy was strong enough to take my breath away.

Sharp pain explodes in my chest as I try to breathe. It feels like a thousand Soul Crystals are digging into me. I look down, grabbing at my chest squirming in agony. I see a red hilt of a dagger on my left side where my heart should be, the blade buried into my chest. Strange symbols are on the dagger in gold but I am too concerned about the obsidian blade plunged into my chest to make any sense out of the symbols. I attempt to grab the hilt as everything faded.

3

The Dagger

Morgana

Bitter cold sheets over my body was the first thing I’m aware of as I come to. The second thing was the tightness and dull pain on the left side of my chest every time I inhale. It feels like someone carved my skin a week ago and now it’s almost healed. I open my eyes and immediately recognize the white ceiling, and the white silk sheets as my own. Two out of the four black canopy bed posts are visible from my position, the engraved wood distinguishable. Golden sheer curtains pulled down towards my white and gray marble floor, giving me a semblance of privacy. The only light in the windowless bedroom emanating from the Soul Crystals on my desk to my left as well as the cluster embedded on the wall to my right.

I tried sitting up and manage to gain enough strength to do so. My eye catches something white as I look down at my chest, and after fiddling at it with my right hand it dawns on me it’s a square gauze over the area that’s been bothering me. Before I can move my purple blouse to the side to remove the gauze and discern the source of the discomfort, I spot something moving with the corner of my eye. To my right is Alistair, curled up at the foot of the bed like a dog. Long limbs tightly held into himself and a few inches away so as to not brush my legs, eyes closed and face slacken in sleep. Why would he stay in my room?

The only thing I can think of is that Alistair might have gotten concerned over the attack, and the fact that something actually hurt me. I look down at my gauze again and bring up my right hand, removing the medical tape. I didn't expect the sight that greeted me. There is no wound, but that's not the shocking part. I can heal quickly thanks to my fast regeneration, granted by the demon blood I've consumed, but what's unexpected is that I still feel a wound when there is none. My porcelain skin came together again, leaving no blemish or evidence of any injury. Yet, I still feel an aching and pulling where the gauze used to be. I set the gauze down on the bed next to me and graze my index finger on my chest.

Pain shoots across my entire chest, I gasp as I bend forward clutching my non existing injury. It burns as if I just got cut and my touch is aggravating it. As soon as I gasp, Alistair bolts up from his curled position at the end of the bed and crawls to me immediately with a concerned expression. “My lady? What’s wrong?” His voice was laced with worry. I take a deep breath in, letting my hand drop down to my lap. I take a second before responding, picking my words carefully, no need to worry anyone over this since it will heal soon enough. “Nothing, I’m fine. How long have I been asleep?”

Alistair looks like he wants to inquire more but takes my response instead. “If you’re certain, my lady. You have been unconscious for just over 9 hours. Dinner will be served soon.” I know dad will be waiting for me at dinner since we eat together every night, it’s the only meal he has time for. He has too many things to do as Hell’s king during other meal times. “What happened after I passed out? Did you see who threw the dagger?” I ask laying down once more, slowly arranging myself to lay flat on my back.

“No, I didn't see a dagger or anyone, my lady. I looked for who attacked us but I only sensed residual Chaos magic after being knocked down. I couldn't detect any threats so I put pressure on the wound and carried you to the nearest portal back.”Hell fire! I need to figure out who's the insect that stabbed me so I can repay the favor tenfold. Wait a second…

“You said you put pressure on my wound, and did not find a dagger? I saw a dagger buried in me before passing out. How is it that you couldn't see it?” I can feel my eyebrows climb to my hairline incredulously. Alistair for his part didn’t change his worried expression.

“I don't know, my lady. I heard you yell out and you were already bleeding, and unconscious when I got to you. But there was no dagger there.” He seems to be genuine, besides he has proven to be loyal and truthful the past few years. Alistair has no reason to lie about that but that leaves a bigger question then.

Who was targeting me and where the hell did the dagger go?

I close my eyes as I ponder the information when something else occurred to me. “Who took care of my wound?” I ask, dreading the response.

“I did.” Alistair said with confidence, looking calmer and more like his stoic self.

“Did you look at anything else when you were tending to my chest?” My voice drenched in suspicion and squinting eyes quickly made Alistair realize what I meant.

“No, my lady. I would never show such disrespect by taking advantage of you like that. I merely tended to your injury and did not remove any clothing where the wound was not present.” Alistair is so earnest I have no choice but to believe him.

“Alright, just checking. You better not get any ideas in the future though.” I say, waving my index finger in his face accusingly.

“Never, my lady. I exist only to serve you. ” He kneels on the mattress and bows his head. I sigh and reach up to ruffle his curls.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You did good, pet.” That’s the closest thing to a thank you he has probably gotten since he started serving me. And it shows considering how he perks up immediately at my words and leans into my touch like a touch starved puppy. I scratch his scalp for a few seconds before dropping my hand, feeling drained already even though I slept for hours. I ask Alistair if he had informed my father of the attack and the answer was affirmative. He told a worker to inform the king when he teleported back and as he tended to my wound dad appeared to check on me. He had one of his subordinates patrol the cemetery for anything odd as soon as Alistair told him what happened. He left as soon as he saw my wound healed, needing to tend to urgent King matters. But not before ordering Alistair to keep a close eye on me.

The subordinate later reported they found nothing at the cemetery except residual traces of Chaos magic just like Alistair sensed. Which is odd considering that my pet didn't sense any energy before the attack but now two demons had sensed some magic was present. Not to mention, they didn't find the dagger either and since Alistair was the one that reported the attack but didn't see a dagger during it, he didn't report that to my father. So, the foot soldier that went on a recon mission wasn't even looking for it.

Looks like I will have to investigate myself. I look towards Alistair, he finishes his report and now is sitting waiting for my next orders. “Go tell dad I’m awake and that I’m okay. I won't be eating dinner at the table today. I will eat here instead. Bring me my dinner as soon as you’re done relaying the information.” I say as I close my eyes again, already feeling the urge to sleep weighing me down. But when I don't feel Alistair getting up to leave and do as he’s told I open them once more. Alistair is still in the same kneeling position, hasn't moved an inch and is looking at me with a worried expression again.

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