Page 29 of The Daughter of the Devil

"It's pretty obvious it's something bad, otherwise you're right, we would have just asked you for it," Belial answers.

"So now you expect me to hand over a scythe that can kill pretty much anything without you telling me why you need it? You can either answer me and we can negotiate, or you can just go home. If you behave, I might be gracious enough to tell Lucifer this is just a misunderstanding."

"Oh, Big Brother, I don't think you'll ever understand."

"Try me."

They both turn to each other with a wicked grin before they answer at the same time. "We need it to kill you."

Morgana's breath intakes sharply, but I'm actually not surprised at all. Even when they were younger, they tried to kill me. Of course, they were never successful. After all, I would just heal myself back up again. But if they were to attack me with the scythe, I would never heal fast enough. It didn't matter how many times they tried to electrocute me or set me on fire. Even once they cut my arm off, but it still didn't take. As the first son, nothing would ever happen to me. Power surges in my veins whether I wanted it to or not, and I'll be damned if these two think they can take me with or without the scythe. I don't care if they are my brothers. They hurt Morgana. If they want to damn themselves for all of eternity, that's not my problem anymore.

"If you wanted to kill me that badly, you would have tried harder. Even if you take this weapon from me, you'll never succeed."

"Try not giving them the chance, you idiot," Morgana hisses at me. It's clear she's furious and she doesn't want me to aggravate them, but if I'm going to protect her, I don't have any further choice. The greatest defense I ever had against the twins was a good offense.

With a quick glance to my side, I push Morgana backward into Sierra. As the two of them fall to the ground, I summon the scythe to my right hand. Launching forward at my brothers, I use the back of the blade to hit Astaroth in the stomach as he flings backward an easy twenty feet into the nearby telephone pole. I know that wouldn’t hurt him too badly, but he'll get back shortly, so I have to take care of Belial fast. The twins are great when they fight together, but if they are individually separated, I know Belial is the one to be afraid of. When on his own, Belial will continue to practice fighting. Unfortunately, Astaroth doesn't have the same ambitions. Using the dagger he holds firmly in his hand, he strikes towards my face, but leaning back, I avoid the attack narrowly. My brother is crazy if he thinks such a feeble attack is going to faze me.

That's when I sense his plan coming from behind me. I know Astaroth is nearby and he's planning a strike. Unfortunately for them, I learned phasing last year. Feeling the world around me, I let it take me in, and he ends up kicking nothing but air. Even though the skill took me a long time to learn last year, now that I've been able to master it, it takes me only a second. As I roll across the ground, I pick myself back up using the scythe. I can't risk the idea that they're trying to trick me. At the moment, I'm just protecting myself, assuming that they really want me dead and they're going to use the scythe to do it. However, I also know they have a grand opportunity. If they truly wanted to take Lucifer out, going through his daughter would be the best way to do it. And of course, the only way to control her is to offer her powers back or to use the scythe in order to force her. I won't let them use Morgana that way.

As Belial lunges forward, he prepares a fist to enter my space, but with a quick balancing trick, I allow the scythe to stand on its own for a moment as I brush his arm to the side. I take a quick grip of his wrist and bring him back around me before kicking him in the back, shoving him forward and right into the ground. As I go to retrieve the scythe, however, I find that Astaroth is a little bit faster than when I last battled him. So with a grip on it now, I do my best to pull it away from him, but he holds tight, going a little bit with it. He's still smaller than me, and I hope to pull him back, but for some reason, his grip is just way too strong.

As I start to pull back, I can see from the corner of my eye that Belial is back on his feet and ready to throw the dagger straight at me. It’s the dagger. If I let it hit me, I won't be able to protect Morgana or Sierra. However, I also know which direction he's throwing it in, and both of them are standing directly behind me. The last time Morgana was hit, she was out for a long time. If I knew for sure that the dagger would give her powers back, I would probably move out of the way, but I can't risk it. As I prepare to take the brunt of it, I can tell that my actions are going to be futile. Astaroth pushes his palm to the flat of the blade and then turns it around, facing toward me as he kicks out the bottom of the scythe, taking my legs out with it. As my back hits the pavement hard, I feel something just as sharp hit the front of me. The power inside me is draining. I try to take hold of it, but something is pulling away so fast. It’s like somebody has cut me open and is taking parts of what's inside of me out and not letting me have it, like a physical thing being ripped out of my body, something I need. I can't breathe. I contemplated for far too long. I let my head fall to the side and I can see Morgana's face drenched in fear. I let her down. What's going to happen to me now? I have to get up. I have to protect her. But despite my persistence to tell my body to move, I can't even flex a finger. I've been trying to breathe for a few seconds now, but no air is coming in.

"Brother," I hear Astaroth's voice. "I did it." His voice appears to be astounded. "I can't believe I fucking did it."

"I can't believe you fucking killed him," Belial's cheerful voice echoes from somewhere behind me, but I can't turn around to look at him. I just want to breathe.

28

A Reckoning

Morgana

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. I look down. Alistair’s face bears nothing. No expression, no emotion, no life.

“Morgana,” Sierra’s voice rings in my ear, though it sounds distant. She steps in front of me, blocking Alistair’s face from my view. She’s frantic about something, though I’m not really picking up what. She keeps looking down at my chest. As I follow her line of sight, I can see something in my chest stopping me from breathing. It's the dagger, dead center and probably close to my heart, even though I can’t feel it at the moment. I lift my hand and grab hold of the hilt. Taking as firm a grip as I can manage, I pull it out of my chest. As its fiery glow ceases, I realize that it wasn’t stopping me from breathing. Alistair’s younger twin brothers are doing nothing but celebrating their grand achievement of killing him, a feat I know they’ve been trying for years. Alistair has never lost to them before. This is when it dawns on me. It’s all my fault. Whatever it was, he would have been distracted by the fact I was even here. I should never have been here, and he shouldn’t have been here trying to protect me either. He should have been down in Hell where he would have been safer. My father never should have let him come. The trees around us start to vibrate, and the ground below my feet feels very light suddenly. Even though it was a lot darker earlier, it looks a lot brighter now. What’s happening to me? “Morgana, what’s happening to you?” Sierra’s voice is filled with fear. “Your eyes are going weird. We need to get out of here,” she says, her fear evident and probably warranted. However, I have unfinished business. I want to let a wicked smile reach my lips. I want to let the world know that something has returned and it should be feared. But in truth, I don’t believe humans have anything to fear from me anymore. In fact, the only ones that should be afraid right now are the two twin morons standing above Alistair’s body. Especially when they realize that I, in fact, have my powers back. I am Morgana, Princess of Darkness, fearsome, merciless, and their eventual murderer.

“Take this,” I say, the voice that leaves my body doesn’t sound like mine. I still pass the dagger over to Sierra, and she takes it with both hands. “Whatever you do, Sierra,” I begin, realizing that my voice is now joined by a thousand other voices, “you will take this dagger and you will run. Run straight home and hide it. You will tell no one where it is. In fact, I don’t even want you to tell me.”

“But—”

“Run!” This time she doesn’t hesitate. Clenching it closely to her chest, she bolts. At that moment, I believe the brothers know what has happened. They look up to me, eyes full of curiosity, unsure whether to believe that I’ve just been attacked by that dagger and whether or not I have my powers back. I don’t know for sure yet if I can do everything that I used to, but I don’t care. Even if I’m still human now, I will attack them and I will kill them.

I flex my hand, and with each crack of my knuckles, I can feel the roots of a nearby tree shift. The ground quakes, and the brothers brace themselves. Fear wrenches over them, and I can taste it. The vibrations of everything around me echo back into my ears. I hate this world for what it has done. I hate those twins, the worms that they are. Humans will learn that demons exist and there is nothing to fear. Yet there are still those that control the demons. Angels hold power over everything, and I will be judge, jury, and executioner of anyone who dares defy me anymore.

One of the brothers tries to step behind the other, and I see one glance towards the scythe, buried in Alistair’s limp body. There is nothing of him that remains. Demons only possess the capability to have a soul, but they are not born with one.

“Tell me something.” Even though my voice is a whisper, I know they hear me. Igniting my hands with the blue ice fire that surrounds Hell, I continue my question. “Do you think there is anything waiting for you beyond your death?” Of the twins, who possess a heart each on the right, I hear them racing. They are mere minutes from their hearts exploding through their rib cages, assuming I don’t tear them limb from limb beforehand. With each step I take closer to them, I see their fear grow. Their legs bend, buckling at the knees. Unwillingly, they no longer possess the ability to deny me my presence in a physical form. I’m whole again. But in truth, I’m never going to be whole ever again. They took something from me I can’t get back.

Reaching Alistair’s body, I lean down to touch his face. He’s still warm, but no life courses through him anymore.

“Please, my lady.” Belial begs, his head bowed as low as he can manage. My eye twitches at the mere thought of him speaking to me. Flashing over to the front of him, I take him by the throat, lifting him from the ground he knelt on.

“You don’t have permission to refer to me that way.” He attempts to beg, but I’m not going to let his words escape him ever again. He will feel the pain I’m feeling, every ounce of it, and he will feel it tenfold. Letting the power and pain run through my fingertips, escaping through the claws that now protrude into this boy’s neck, he starts to change color. At first, an amusing streak of grey and black veins become evident, coming to the surface of his skin, which changes until it’s shades of green and purple.

“Leave him alone,” Astaroth yells, catching my attention. But I don’t release my grip on Belial. In fact, as I stare blankly at Astaroth, I increase my strength as the twin lunges forward towards me to stop me from hurting his brother. I lift up my hand towards his face. The fear in his eyes grows as he realizes what’s happening to him. Instead of coming further to his brother’s aid, he turns heel and starts to run away, but it’s no use, the spell is already in effect. I watch as his body starts to change shape and he collapses to the ground. Within mere moments, his entire body wraps around itself in a blue haze and then eventually falls to the ground in a heap, the heap bold until it turns into yet another soul crystal.

“Well,” I begin, turning back to Belial, “I hope that within all of this planning, you two decided to develop a soul. It would be quite unfortunate if I just turned him into a soul crystal and he didn’t have one.” I know fully well that demons don’t usually develop souls. There is no doubt in my mind that Astaroth didn’t have one, so turning him into a soul crystal completely exonerated him from reality. Whatever once existed of that demon no longer does. I release my hold on Belial and let him drop to the ground. Even though he’s struggling to breathe, he still stares at the soul crystal that was once his brother.

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