Page 2 of The Demon of the Wood

Kaemon gritted his teeth, nostrils flaring. It didn’t matter if his family wanted him or not, he would never knowingly put them in danger, regardless of the torture he had to endure.

The commander brought the knife along Kaemon’s cheek, slicing it, and Kaemon tried to jerk away but couldn’t. He would heal, and fast, but the pain lanced through his weak body like a lightning bolt. He made other cuts and Kaemon felt his mind drift away, visions of shadows, and his home coming in his head to calm him. Something ancient and primal within him responded, and he answered the call, exploring it, forgetting about the pain, feeling as if strength were filling him instead.

Am I dying? Is this what it feels like?

Kaemon finally came back to himself, his eyes blinking open. The smell of blood permeated the air. Not his own, though. This blood was acrid and spoiled, filled with fear. His bleary eyes cleared. He was standing outside the cave, blood on him, and the bodies of his captors lying about him in various poses of death. Who had done this? And how?

one

Melina

Ten years later

Melina’sbreathpuffedlikesmoke in the air in front of her. Rubbing her fingers together and shifting on her feet to keep up movement, she puffed out with rhythm to make the air swirl in unique patterns. She stoked the hearth, waiting patiently for the fire to take hold. Melina enjoyed cooking in the winter because it meant she would be warm. Her own sleeping chambers were damp and cool. The thin, tattered cloak she wrapped around her always slipped off her toes or shoulders, making her curl as tightly as she could in a ball. Each morning, she woke with stiff limbs that ached in the cold until she stoked the kitchen fire, readying to make a warm meal for the men of the house.

The sounds of those men waking and coming down the stairs to the dining room startled her out of her reverie, and tightness coiled in her gut, wrenching at her chest. The morning moments of quiet were the only ones that belonged to her. That and the moments at night, after they had all gone to bed, or were out on the town with their companions, and she could sneak into the library, wrap up in the warmth of a blanket, and read for hours.

“Where’s our food?” her oldest cousin, Michael, said with loud vigor, his heavy, graceless footfalls heralding his presence before he slammed through the kitchen door.

Melina sighed quietly, then turned, plastering a smile on her face. “Hello, cousin. It will be done shortly. You’re all up so early today.”

They had spent the evening playing cards and drinking, and she didn’t think they would be up for another hour. She fisted the apron around her waist, trying to keep her face pleasant and neutral. She didn’t want to give any reason for Michael to call her insolent and hit her. Purple and green marks still marred her forearms from her uncle a week prior. She had backed up to avoid him running into her, and she had knocked over a vase in the foyer, the shards scattering across the marble floor like a macabre mosaic.

Michael frowned. “You’re getting lazy, Melina. You know it’s only Father’s benevolence that allows you here. When I take over as master of the house, I won’t let daughters of sinful whores under my roof.”

Melina had heard those words enough times the bite didn’t catch her off guard anymore. Still, she felt the tightness in her belly coil more, like a spring ready to snap.

“Yes, cousin, I’m sorry,” she said. “I won’t let it happen again.”

He huffed, but gave a nod. “Make certain it doesn’t.”

Michael turned to leave, and Melina spun around, quickly gathering the ingredients she needed to make their breakfast. She would brew them tea first, taking out the scones from yesterday, warming them up. They wouldn’t know the difference and it would give her time until she could get the eggs, sausage, and porridge done. She gathered the food and tea, cream and sugar on a tray and took them to the dining hall. Uncle George, Michael, and Jason regarded her with thinly veiled hostility. That was normal. That or they ignored her. She preferred the latter but felt it was early enough she could get back to them ignoring her if she didn’t mess up again.

She set out the scones, pouring tea and adding the amount of cream and sugar each one liked. Melina kept her head down, not making eye contact, not making a noise. They began speaking again, and she let out a shaky breath.

“It’s a terrible thing, all this nonsense in the woods,” George said.

Jason shook his head, swallowing a sip of his tea. “Too many assaults lately. None of us, but especially our women, are safe while these demons are on the loose.”

Melina felt a shiver run through her, not from the cold. She knew the forest that abutted their town, even their very home, was full of all kinds of magical beings. Nymphs and nixies, satyrs and fairies. They were all mostly harmless, and she had rarely seen any as they kept to themselves. Sometimes in the woods she heard something or felt eyes on her, but she could locate nothing other than animals.

Recently, news of another being in the woods had been circulating. A demon. Almost all were on the continent of Medeis, aligned with the shadow realm, but she had heard stories of their deviance from the travelers who came to market, selling their wares and spinning their tales. They talked of the demons’ sexual appetites, the myriad of ways they indulged in them. She also knew that the demons were stronger and healed faster than a human.

Over the last few years, more women had come home pregnant and said a demon seduced them with magic in the wood. They found men ripped limb from limb. The elven holy men cleansed the women, undergoing a harrowing ritual to rid themselves of the demon child they carried. Only a few survived the ritual. Some still birthed the babes, anyway. She had seen them. They looked perfectly human to her.

Melina went into the kitchen as the men talked more of how they should get a hunting party together, or petition to have a Hunter’s guild placed in town. Melina did not care for the few Hunters she’d met. They seemed arrogant and entitled, but they had trained from a young age to fight all sorts of dangerous magical beings. Perhaps that was best for the town.

She finished the rest of the food as quickly as possible, serving the men as they made ribald jokes about the women of town that made her ears burn.

“Uncle,” she said softly when there was a break in the conversation.

He sighed, giving her a dull look. “Yes, Melina?”

“We are almost out of flour and oil. I should go into the market today to get some more.”

He pursed his lips, examining her with suspicion as if she were the one eating all the food in the house. She was not. Her skin stuck to her bones painfully. She often hoped they left scraps of food on their plates for her to eat as her uncle carefully took inventory in the kitchen and hit her often for eating more than her share. She saw bits of sausage and eggs left over, and her mouth watered, hoping her cousins were truly done with their food.

“Here,” George said gruffly, handing her coins after counting them out carefully. “And don’t let them take advantage of you this time, Melina. Tell them who you are buying for. Your nature is far too soft, and people will rip me off because you let them.”

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