Page 27 of The Daughter of the Devil

“Probably more to your taste.” She smiles. As he picks up the glass and smells it, a look in his eye changes. I suppose it isn’t wine but a mixture of that and blood, a preference for demons and previously, myself.

“We never caught your name.” I state.

“Very true, apologies Morgana.” The gothic confusion grins. “I am Carmen. But eventually I think I’ll change it to Selena. What do you think?” She questions, turning to Sierra who took the seat by her side. If I had my powers I’d know her deepest thoughts, but for now I’ll have to rely on gut instinct. “I’m in training to be a Grim.” Although, people can be surprising.

“A Grim?” Sierra responds, “Like the thing that attacked in the fairgrounds?”

“Not quite.” I say, “That particular Grim lost sight of who they were, started to enjoy seeing life and death in their hands and took it too far. They start to decay like that when they no longer possess humanity. A Grim usually looks like the everyday person.” Sierra nods, clearly pretending she’s understanding my words but they appear to be going right over her head.

“Either way, we’re very fortunate to have you here with us today, Morgana.” I turn to the woman now sitting closest to me who was previously introduced as Belladonna. The gold flower studs in her ears might suggest she’s a little different from her daughter, but the odd grown streak of white in her hair rolling from her fringe and backwards makes me wonder if she’s faced death’s door herself. It’s a common trademark to see. “You see, a friend of Jasmine’s contacted her and mentioned we should introduce ourselves since you will be here for a while and may need someone to turn to in the future.” Eyeing Jasmine, the freckled redhead simply smiles at me.

“My friend is a Seer.” She simply adds, turning to the plate of food in front of her and continuing to eat.

“Morgana, we are not the only coven in town but you are welcome to depend on us at any time. We simply wish to aid you in your times of need. The transition you are facing must be quite difficult.”

Picking off my plate with a fork I look up to her to respond, “You could say that.”

“The truth is we can sense something big is happening and we fear you’re too young to face such trials on your own. That being said we have no issues if you wish to come to us and require magical assistance.”

“I don’t know what trials you’re referring to but-”

“What is important to you, dear?” Rude to cut me off but whatever.

“What do you mean?” The woman smiles at me with such pity, but I don’t feel the same sting I usually would, or anger for that matter. No, inside I feel that if someone that knows my future pities me, then my feelings of fear are valid.

“Don’t worry dear. Everything will happen as it should. Just don’t fight against it.”

“Against what?”

“Yourself. Who you are.” Cryptic. The last thing I needed was for some crazy witch to tell me that I shouldn’t fight myself. “And stay close, Alistair. You’re the last reason to fight, after all.” My eyes dash right across the table and meet Alistair’s. A small glint of the red that would otherwise be there surfaces his brown eyes.

“Oh, they’re not a couple. They’re just weird close.” Sierra snickers, a grin on her face that drops immediately upon looking at me. “Unless…circumstances have changed recently.”

“That would be interesting.” Carmen comments, “Wouldn’t that be a little hard if your powers return and your expectation is to be Hell’s Heir once more?” It’s true, but I also don’t expect to get my powers back from a missing dagger. “You should start walking home. And we promise, we will be close by and there whenever you need us. Just call. Our numbers are already in your cell.” Unsure if I let my face flinch to her statement or not, I stand from the table and head directly for the front door.

I don’t need someone to tell me that they’re there to help me. I am Morgana. My name is feared by the demons in hell. With my powers I can crush minds without lifting a finger.

…With my powers.

26

A Demonic Encounter

Morgana

With each step, my boots echo in the empty street. Sierra and Alistair are both wearing sneakers, which makes me feel more alone. They want to say something but are too afraid to step beside me. The light on the street flickers above me and goes out. Halting my steps, Alistair catches up and ceases movement.

"What's going on?" Sierra asks, coming up to me and grabbing onto my elbow.

"Something doesn't feel right," Alistair tells her. Down the street, I see something I shouldn’t—figures standing in the middle of the street, their eyes glowing a distinctive red, just like Alistair’s.

"What forsaken demon has come to attack this time?" I mutter. As the two figures approach, they form into familiar shapes.

"I'm starting to see the appeal," one of them says with a wicked smile, baring fangs as he approaches the last lit street lamp.

"What, no greetings for your brothers?" Ah, that’s why they look so familiar. A glance at the side displays Alistair's annoyance.

"You're both out of line being here, and you know that," he states, taking steps toward the center of the street.

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