Page 1 of Demonic Division

1

Dagny

Bad thingsalways happen on Tuesdays.

The thought barrels to the forefront of my mind as I gaze around the fenced area, a pit of despair hardening in my gut.This is it. I’m going to get fired. I’m going to lose everything—and all on my birthday, to boot.

“This can’t be happening,” I whisper, my fingers twisting around the puke-green polyester of my shirt. “Thiscannotbe happening.”

My eyes scour the fenced area like Bella will somehow materialize, that she’ll come running up to me, rest her paws on my shoulders, and cover my face in slobbery kisses. Instead, my despair turns to panic as I catch sight of the door to the pen, swinging lightly in the autumn breeze. It appears Bella figured out the latch and took to the hills as fast as her drugged-up body would let her.

I fight the panic rising in my throat, focusing instead on taking deep, even breaths through my nose.I can’t lose this job. Not again. Not when I’ve finally found something I’mgoodat. Not when my entire livelihood depends on it.

Yet no matter how hard I stare at that open gate, willingBella to materialize, she doesn’t. In a desperate haze, I drop my spray bottle to the ground and sprint out of the gate, following the muddy footprints into the forest behind the clinic. In my desperation, I convince myself there’s no need to go back and tell someone where I’m going or even grab my phone. Surely, I'll be able to find the dog quickly and without incident.

That was my first mistake.

Anxiety pricks the back of my neck as I sprint past the tree line. I’ve heard the whispers all my life—fabled tales about the demonic soldiers of The Far Place that lurk in the forest after sunset, waiting for children’s souls to devour. Now that I’m older, I realize those stories weren’t real. There is no such thing as The Far Place, just as no Heaven exists. And if those cease to exist, so do the monsters that supposedly dwell there.

Yet…

My steps slow to a stop as goose bumps rise along the bare skin of my arms. The forest has gone eerily silent, and a stillness hangs heavy in the air, suffocating the abundant sounds of wildlife from just moments ago.

If you can fear, you can also be brave.

My mother's words pierce the thick fog of my memory, forcing them to the front of my mind. A rustic cabin set in the snowy mountainside. A red-and-purple patchwork quilt. A scarred hand on my shoulder. A cup of hot chocolate placed into my palms. A story by the fireplace, and the terror that followed me to my bedroom—fear even my night-light couldn’t stave away. And thosewords.That simple phrase gave me so much peace, so much comfort.

I shake my head resolutely.

“They’restories.Nothing more,” I speak into the air, unsure if I’m talking about the words or the monsters in thewoods. Deciding it doesn’t matter, I ignore that little warning blaring in the back of my mind and head deeper into the woods.

That was my second mistake.

My chest heaves with effort as I pump my arms, barely sensing the branches and brambles digging into my skin as I crash through the brush. I follow the footprints until I enter a large clearing, then let out a curse. The ground is harder here—untouched by the rain thanks to the dense canopy above—and doesn’t allow Great Dane paw prints to leave a mark.

“Shit.” I place my hands on my knees, sucking in lungfuls of crisp autumn air as I search the shadows for a sign of her. Once my heart rate returns to normalcy, I straighten, cupping my hands around my mouth to project my voice.

“Bella!” I yell. “Bella! Come here, girl!”

Stopping, I listen for sounds of her crashing through the brush or the snap of a twig—anything. But there’s nothing.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I step into the center of the clearing, only to stop dead as a shadowy form appears just past the tree line. I can’t make out its face, but it's distinctly human-shaped—the only caveat being two large hornlike projections growing out the top of its head. And its eyes—oh gods, thoseeyes.

Twin shimmering yellow orbs beam through the dark, the hunger in them causing a shiver to run the length of my spine. I take a step back, and a humming sound fills the clearing. Against my wishes, my muscles freeze, locking me in place—a deer in the face of a bloodthirsty predator.

It can’t be…

Yet the longer I look at thatthing,the more I’m convinced it’s real. That it’s one of the horrible creatures from those bedtime stories.

A demon.

“S-stay away!” I command, willing my legs to move me away from thisthing.“I’m armed!” It’s a bold lie, but hopefully, it's a strong enough reason for the creature to leave me alone—assuming it speaks my language.

The being tilts its head, studying me. The orbs flash bright yellow as it takes a deep breath. Meanwhile, it feels like I’ve had the wind kicked out of me. It’s a terrifying sight—a scene from my nightmares—and it elicits such a strong physical response that I’m worried my heart will explode from the force of it slamming against its cage.

And so, I do what any irrational person would do in that instance.

I bend down and chuck a rock at it.

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