Page 3 of The Demigod

For the moment.

I watched the stretch SUV meandering up the winding driveway, the blue-white headlights cutting through the night with piercing blindness.

Squeezing my eyes shut so as not to blind myself with my strong night vision, I listened as the car crunched up the driveway.

It wasn’t until I heard the engine cut off that I let my eyelids flutter open again, watching as the doors slid open, revealing the flashy luxury interior. That they, true to their natures, had trashed already.

But I couldn’t bring myself to be annoyed about their constant mess. There were bigger fish to fry here.

I was about to shrink back into the shadows, slide away, disappear again.

When I saw two men drag something out of the back of the limo.

No.

Not something.

Someone.

I wish I could say I was shocked. But a few weeks at this compound had erased my ability to be appalled by the depravity of these beings.

But something was different about this man.

I couldn’t put my finger on it for a long moment as I saw his body sway between the two men like a human jump rope.

But then, as they shifted to carry him toward, I assumed, the basement, I saw it.

Horns curling out from the top of his skull.

This wasn’t another human, after all.

My first thought wasThank goodness.

But if he wasn’t a human, and he wasn’t a god, what the hell was he?

The man was motionless for a few seconds before, suddenly, he was writhing, flailing, cursing, fighting.

Definitely not a human. Or even part-human. He was too strong. The guards were struggling to hold onto him as he raged.

Silently, Oizys moved around the limo. She was all flowing green-gray gowns, inky hair, and alabaster skin. But down her cheeks, as if leaking perpetually from her eyes, were black mascara ribbons.

She approached the flailing… creature, twisting her delicate hand in a slow circle, screwing in an invisible lightbulb.

Then the man was going lax again. But he was wailing then.

In pain.

But not the physical kind.

It was deep emotional torment that Oizys specialized in: anxiety, depression, strife. Those were her talents.

The man was being tortured from the inside out.

But just as quickly as his cries started, they muffled as the men carried him down the steps at the side of the mansion.

Everyone emerged a few moments later, laughing, clearly enjoying their little score.

My stomach twisted, still having a hard time accepting their enjoyment of the misery and pain of others.

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