Page 9 of The Demigod

I exhaled hard through my nose, knowing I was taking a huge risk here, but not knowing what other choice I had but to trust this woman.

“A demon.”

“A… demon?” she asked, brows scrunching. “Like… hell demon? Lucifer, fire, brimstone demon?”

“What other kind could there be?” I asked.

“Oh, I believe you have a lot of catching up to do,” she admitted.

“So catch me up. Who are they?” I asked, jerking my head up toward the ceiling where it sounded like a whole party was taking shape.

“What,” she said.

“Huh?”

“You meanwhatare they.”

“Alright,” I agreed. “What are they?”

“They’re gods.”

She said it so simply. No hesitation.

I mean, sure, that was the going theory with my club, with even the Academy of demonslayers. But I think some part of me was still a little dubious.

I mean, I thought the “old gods” were the stuff of myths. That our story with Sky Daddy, Hell Daddy, and all the angels and demons in between was the only real creation story.

“Gods,” I repeated. “What gods?”

“Well, you have personally met Oizys,” she said.

“Oizys.”

“Goddess of grief, anxiety, and depression,” she explained.

“Well, that explains some things.”

“There’s also Moros, the god of doom; Ares, the god of violence and war; Eris, the goddess of strife. And, perhaps worst of all, the Keres.”

“Who is Keres?”

“Keres is not a who; it’s a collective.”

“Why are they the worst?”

“They’re death spirits. They personify violent death. They like to be around ugly deaths, drinking blood, soaking up the misery and pain…”

“Sounds like they’d be the life of the party.”

“This isn’t a joke,” she told me, worrying her plump lower lip with her teeth, clearly second-guessing whatever she thought of me.

“Okay,” I agreed, nodding. “Why are you here then? Who are you?”

“I’m Nox,” she told me.

“Nox. Like night?”

“Exactly.”

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