The Bringers of the Night

I went to bed that night with typical thoughts of war and destruction and the end of humanity whirling round my brain, buzzing and flashing like fireworks until I couldn’t ignore them. Eventually, however, I managed to find sleep; something I thought was impossible that night.

***

I was running. The rain pounded down around me as I splashed through puddles. I wasn’t bothered about getting wet tonight. The stars glinted weakly under the thick blanket of smog that lingered like murky water, concealing the stars from view. Everything shone dimly in the orange oil lamps lining the street.

I was running from something. On every corner it waited. I could hear its footsteps behind me. The shadows on the dark walls showed me a beast. Its eyes were burning balls of fire and they stared at me whenever I blinked or closed my eyes.

It was a Demon. I don’t know how I knew; I just did. It was gaining on me—every five steps I ran it could take in one of its long, bounding strides.

I pushed on faster. I was exhausted and my heart was a pounding drum, but I didn’t dare stop. The beast would consume me.

And then I slipped. I trod in a puddle, sliding on the slippery wet ground and falling to my knees with a gasp of pain as my leg twisted awkwardly. I was facing the other way, but I could hear the Demon’s ragged breath on my back, even over my frantically beating heart. I could smell it—the smell of death and rot and decay; and the putrid stench grew stronger as every step drew closer.

I turned round, unable to stand both from my injury and from the fear that paralysed me. All I could do was watch. But it would never go away. It eventually stopped; it’s ugly, grey face with that leather-like skin and slit eyes and flat nose and sharp, yellow teeth blocking out the little light that came from the oil lamps. All that I could see was the Demon as it grew closer and closer. I couldn’t move; I couldn’t scream; I couldn’t think.

Its face was inches from mine. Those murderous eyes bore into mine, and its mouth opened. As it did, I could feel the warmth in the air disappear rapidly, leaving behind an almost icy cold.

And then those gnarled, chapped lips pressed into mine, sucking out my Last Breath. I had been Claimed.

***

I woke up, screaming and sweating. Somewhere downstairs, a clock chimed two in the morning. That didn’t matter.

My door swung open and Marta bolted in.

‘What’s going on?’ she cried, both fearful but also bordering on impatience when she could see that I wasn’t being attacked; nor was I dying, and there wasn’t even a spider above my bed.

I couldn’t speak. I could barely breathe, and I took great gasps of air to try and fill my lungs with oxygen, yet I never seemed to be getting enough.

‘What is it, Lena?’ she asked. She sat on the edge of my bed like my mother used to do when I confessed to being scared of the monsters under the bed, her eyes wide with fright.

‘Demons,’ I whispered. As I spoke the hideous word, I could see it in the mirror. It was there; the monster from my nightmare; sitting in the reflection with those same murderous eyes. I screamed, whirling round as though I expected it to be on the wall behind me, but it obviously wasn’t. When I looked back to the mirror, the reflection was back to normal and the Demon was nowhere in sight.

‘What do you mean, Demons?’ asked Marta, growing impatient once again.

I was a water elemental. I was intuitive and sensitive; good at noticing things and picking up on the tiniest hints.

Being an elemental might have saved me. It gave me a forewarning of my fate. Not everyone was lucky enough to find out before it happened.

I took a deep breath, noticing that my face in the mirror was pasty and zombie-like.

‘Marta,’ I whispered in the darkness, ‘I think I’ve been Marked by the Demons.’