Page 11 of Prayer of the Damned

“Yes, you were yelling,” he again answers my thoughts, and now I’m really screaming aloud because the pain in my throat is very real.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?!” I scream again, and my father’s face darkens.

“Keep your language clean, Bellcolor Umbra Fermi!” he reprimands me, and I shrink back and shut my mouth.

Yes, my middle name is Umbra, and if Dad’s using it that means he’s furious. My father straightens up, gets to his feet and continues anxiously pacing the room. Great, we’re not getting anywhere.

“Bellcolor, listen to me, and listen well.” His voice is sharp and piercing, and his expression is dead-serious. “The world we live in is full of secrets I’m about to reveal to you. I’m afraid that in light of your foolish impulsiveness, things won’t go smoothly from now on, and I have no choice but to follow the Council’s demands.”

“The Council? What council? Your company board? What do they have to do with this, or me to be precise?”

“No, Bellcolor,theCouncil.”

“Okay,whatCouncil?” I imitate him because I don’t understand a single thing that’s happened in the last day.

“As a Fermi, you belong to the world of what humans call demons. We live our lives under the laws of the Council.”

“Demons? What are you talking about?!” I explode at him. Oh God, no wonder they called me Fermi the psycho, I really am crazy!

“You’re not crazy, Bellcolor,” my father growls. “The pills you took weren’t mood stabilizers, they were pills engineered by my company, designed to protect you in your human form. At least until the Council decides to end your life and add you to our ranks.”

“End my life?” I look at my father the way everyone’s looked at me all my life – like a fucking lunatic.

“Will you keep your thoughts to yourself for a moment? I’m trying to tell you the whole truth and you keep interrupting me over and over. I knew it was a mistake to choose an American offspring.”

“Choose an American offspring? What do you mean, ‘choose’? How can you choose your daughter, your own flesh and blood?”

My father shakes his head and lets out another breath. I immediately do the same to prove that of the two of us he’s the frustrating one, and that I’m not the one carrying all the blame here. He gives me a petrifying look that causes all the hair on my body to stand on end, and I decide to shut up and listen to him.

“We share blood, but you’re not my flesh and blood, Bellcolor. Unlike humans, some of your blood flows through my veins, not the other way around, and that is only meant to bind us together so I can read your thoughts.”

The man in front of me, Othello Fermi, isn’t my biological father? Was my mother my biological mother?

“No, Naomi Fermi wasn’t your biological mother either, but she was my wife.”

Fuck.

“Yes, ‘fuck,’” my father says, making air quotes with his fingers.

An involuntary laugh slips out of my mouth. I’ve never heard my father swear, He always seemed so cold, so distant and calculating. He’s exposing a whole other side to me tonight. Too bad I hadn’t met this version of him sooner…

My heart turns sour as I think about the life he wished for me being the absolute opposite of everything I wanted. It was so miserable I preferred death.

My father’s eyes soften as he – I can’t believe I’m admitting this – reads my thoughts. He clears his throat and continues his story. “Every few years, the Devil marks a few humans emerging into the world as being destined to serve as vessels for incarnating demons. We demons claim the children for ourselves and take them under our wing. I had no choice but to watch you carefully. Circumstances obliged me to do so.”

I examine my hands and feet, looking for the mark my father’s referring to, but I don’t recall having any birthmarks on my body.

“The mark is internal, you won’t find it on your body,” my father clarifies. “Not all the Marked become demons, some are claimed by our enemies or end their lives, and their souls return to…” He gestures to the air with his hand, and I don’t know what he means.

“To the void?” I ask.

“In a manner of speaking, yes. And last night, when you decided to take your own life using these pills, something happened. Something we didn’t even know was possible. You see, Bellcolor, your suicide attempt didn’t fail. Not exactly.”

“What do you mean, ‘not exactly’? How can one ‘not exactly’ die?”

“The hypothesis is that you’re not alive. You’ve become a demon. But because of the overdose, you weren’t able to complete the change and incarnate. I suspect the pills will eventually wear off, because the pigmentation in your eyes is spreading, but not those senses typical of demons which haven’t yet awoken in you. You’re in limbo, if one can call it that.”

“What?!” I yell, getting to my feet and hurrying to the mirror in the foyer. I closely examine my irises and see that my father is right. The white pigmentation in my black eyes is spreading, but what does that mean?

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