Page 5 of Torn Between Two Worlds

3

He was sittingin his study when he felt it. Something vibrated within him. It was like words in his mind. Jonathan shook his head and smacked himself on the temple a few times but couldn't get the sensation to stop. It felt as if someone was watching him, studying him.

In a split second, he had powered down the computer and grabbed his gun. He didn't get to be a commander inThe Initiative, an attack force against demons, by being slow, unobservant or weak. “Whatever sick freak is in here with me, you damn well know who I work for. So back off.” He whirled his body to face the other direction, moving the gun first. “And I mean now!” His voice echoed off the barren room walls, and he wondered if any of the guards would have heard him and come running.

The sensation returned again, he hadn't even realized it stopped during his unease over a possible intruder. It was back, a melodic voice, one that seemed to be recounting his entire life story. He focused on the strange sensation harder, still swinging the gun from side to side to show the presence in the room he meant business, and he realized it was a female voice. A wonderfully pleasant and soothing female voice. He allowed himself to get lost in the sound, and the arm holding the gun out waved slightly as he almost forgot the likelihood of an attacker being in his office.

The voice rattled off details of his life—intimate details from his childhood to his wedding day and then beyond. As an image of his wife, soaked in her own blood, entered his mind, he fired the gun. Six rounds went off in succession as he spun in a circle.

“Fuck you. Do you hear me? I haven't trained this hard for some fucking invisible one of you to get me. You took down my wife, and so help me, I’ll take down every stinking rotten demon on the planet to stop the Apocalypse and learn what makes you tick, even if it kills me.”

The voice just kept going. Louder and faster, memories swirled around him until a man in a black leather jacket stepped out of seemingly nowhere and into his view. “Demon!” he cursed and fired in the man's direction.

The man reached up, caught both bullets, crushed them and let the powder sift through his fingers to the floor. His mouth lifted into a grin, revealing perfectly white, straight teeth.

The sensation of seeing a demon smile sent chills through Jonathan, and he squeezed the trigger again, only to realize it was empty. Panic gripped him, or maybe it was something else because he couldn't move. He wasn't afraid of dying with the demon, but he sure as hell didn't want to be a sitting duck for whatever was going to be done to him.

The man in the jacket took a step forward, stopped and looked around. “Hmm…not a bad place He walked over to Jonathan’s desk and dropped into the chair.

Jonathan strained every muscle in his body, and yet, his feet still held fast to the floor. The demon casually kicked his feet up onto the desk and finally turned to look at Jonathan.

“Don't bother calling for backup. If you stick your head outside the door, you'll see everything and everyone are frozen; time, spilling drinks, firing guns.” He grinned again.

Jonathan felt a tremor of fear run through him at the idea that a stray bullet may or may not be waiting on the other side of the flimsy wooden door. “Everything but you and me, and no pitiful human, I'm not a demon. I'm not someone you’ve previously trapped and foolishly lost hold of.”

In a panic, Jonathan bolted to the door and threw it open. Men and women stood in various positions in the hall, some with mouths open, some in mid-step, but all frozen. Blowing a breath out in relief to not see any bullets, his eyes darted to the clock in the office, it wasn't ticking. He scanned over the hall once more, to ensure none were bleeding from a wound the demon could have caused, before walking slowly back into the office and closing the door behind him for no particular reason. Or perhaps it was to lean his back on it in order to feel as if he had a safe side from the monster.

“What are you?” his voice held none of the earlier anger and power as when he had thought the predator had been invisible. All the bravado had leaked out of him as his mind turned over the power he was witnessing.

“Such a curious question, Jonathan.”

He was unimpressed at the last attempt at power. Many demons knew him by name. He had sent badly damaged messengers back to hell to show the power of The Initiative.

“Let's just call me someone you want to be very nice to.” The man swung his feet off the desk and rose from the chair. He approached Jonathan, stopping a few inches from him and looking directly into his eyes. “Do you hear that? That sound like someone reading in your head? A female someone, to be exact?”

He swallowed and nodded slowly, fear rolling off him in waves.

“Well, she is going to be your savior, little boy. So listen to me, and listen well, because I do not repeat myself.”

Jonathan listened. He listened to an incredible tale, some sort of bull about his world being nothing more than someone's story. His life was apparently someone's work of fiction, in some other universe, one free of demons of the literal kind. No Apocalypse to fight, no demons to kill, aside from the evil that lurked inside of mankind. Mankind would always be evil, he was a testament of that, even as he fought for humanity. But human evil? That was natural, a balance of sorts, in his mind.

His thoughts were swimming with the idea of a demon free world, and when the man in the leather jacket was done talking, he didn’t want to say he believed it. Did not want to grasp the idea of a world without demons that he could exploit and control, even as the man disappeared before his eyes after spinning such an elaborate tale.

Why had the man told him that and was he truly not a demon? A wave of nausea overtook him at the idea that, since demons were real, every other creature that could go bump in the night might be as well. What was his plan, could it be he worked for the demons and lied? Were they trying mind games? Or perhaps the man wasn't pulling his leg about not being a demon. Maybe he worked for the angels and had merely been sent down to let The Initiative know of the demon activity?

He frowned and realized a dull throbbing had begun in his head while he'd stood in his office contemplating such an absurd idea. No, Jonathan could not say he believed it, but he had a hope of sorts for it. Yes, he had always sought control over demons, but perhaps freedom from their entire existence was better.

If the tale of Ciara Miller was true, if there truly was a world out there he could take his troops to and be free of demons, wouldn't that be something? What would be the harm in sacrificing one human to find out? Especially since the human was apparently not a human like him after all, being from a different reality, or maybe he wasn't one like her. Yes, Jonathan had hope, and thanks to the man in the leather jacket, he was going to see if he could make himself believe too.

4

Dumbfounded, Ciara stood staring at the spot where Stryder had been standing, should have still been standing. Blinking didn’t seem to bring him back. She'd never made Alcott vanish before, she'd never had any reason to once she’d stopped screaming and had just accepted him the night he’d appeared.

She smiled to herself as she realized that it might be the perfect fix to the problem of dealing with an unwanted Guardian, especially if they could sense attacks on her life on their own and appear without hanging around. Alcott rarely left, but he had mentioned that he could hear her in his head when she was in trouble, like a link that would always protect her, should he not be around.

Although, the lonely apartment could use an extra body. She shook her head and pushed the thought out, but an image of Stryder slung across the couch wouldn’t leave her alone. Ciara cursed and banished the thought, thinking of her rising financial crisis. She was not some pathetic girl, and she wouldn't allow some unwanted person into her life just because she was lonely. The new ability was perfect. She never had to deal with Stryder and could just mentally shout for him when she found herself in trouble. Perfect news on a shit day.

Feeling rather smug, she did her best not to cry again. For years, she had msatered keeping her hurt back, and she wanted to scream at Alcott for ruining that. She knew that she had let such a painful emotion control her, and it would be hard to put it back in the box. But screaming at Alcott wouldn’t do any good, he couldn’t hear her anymore.

---