Hearts of Steel

A dull murmer of voices filled the 10th grade classroom around me as my fellow peers sat in homeroom, waiting for the bell to dismiss us to our first class of the day. I attempted to stifle a yawn as I rested my elbows on the sand-colored desk in front of me. Strawberry blonde waves of hair fell over my shoulders as I rested my head on my hand. It was going to be a long Monday.

My eyes flickered to my Rubik's cube that sat beside my books in front of me. I took it in my free hand and turned the rows absent-mindedly with my thumb. A pile of messy papers drop over my hand, Rubik's cube and all, and I looked up at the person standing over me.

"Mornin', Sable."

"Good morning, Michael. What's this?" I asked in a dry tone, twitching my hand to make the papers move. I already had a good guess at what he was showing me.

"Demons," he said, giving the papers, obviously printed off the internet, a satisfactory tap with his pencil. I inhaled deeply through my nose as I rolled my eyes, removing my hand from under the papers. I leaned back in my chair, giving the Rubik's cube my full attention. Michael snatched the papers indignantly, taking a seat on my desk and flipping through them.

"Spitfire, the latest demonic trouble maker, once again escaped custody after setting fire to a local resident's home. Eye witnesses describe his sudden disappearance as quick as snuffing out a flame." The paper blocked the view of my Rubik's cube as Michael held it in front of my face. A black and white picture of the so-called "demon" grinned back at me, all messy hair and unnecessary piercings. Black markings bordered his eyes, running down his jawline in flowing black lines. I scoffed as I batted the paper away.

"It’s fake, Mike. You got that off some phony sci-fi junkie's web page." I told my over-imaginative friend.

"This site's reliable," he countered matter-of-factly. I gave him my famously sarcastic you-can't-be-serious look, up through my lowered brows, keeping silent as the Rubik's cube clicked away quietly. Michael's eyes studied the paper again. After a small pause between us, Michael turned his head toward me.

"I know how he disappeared," he said softly. I didn't reply, kept my attention fixed on the puzzle. "He teleported. Demons can create portals from thin air, back to-"

"Oh my God!" I hissed, tromping all over his last statement. "Mike. Michael. Dude. It was fun to pretend and play make-believe when we were little kids, but this is getting way out of hand," I told him bluntly. Michael straightened, his brow lowering.

"For a while, I thought you would actually believe me, Sable," he started, his tone glacial as the timbre of his voice darkened, "But I guess I was dead wrong. You know what? I hope you run into a demon for real someday, and maybe then you'd actually believe me. You'd better wish that it isn't Hexus you meet that day." Before I could say anything, he turned on his heel and stormed back to his own desk across the room. An odd feeling wormed its way into my gut after the mention of the particular demon. Hexus, the demon Mike deemed the most dangerous, and according to him, is responsible for many of our local murders.

The bell rang, shaking me from my thoughts. With a heavy sigh, I gathered my things and followed the stream of students out the door.

****

The school day was long and boring, and I was glad to be in the mob of teenagers as I exited the building. The sun was shining happily in the sky, warming my bare arms as I started my 5-block journey to home. The loud roll of skateboard wheels growled closer, and Michael was soon circling me. I hadn't seen him all day.

"Hey," he greeted, slowing to match my speed.

"Hey," I echoed. The rolling of his skateboard wheels fill the silence between us. After a few moments, Michael spoke up.

"I'm sorry about this morning, Sable," he said quietly, his voice barely audible over his skateboard.

"It’s okay. I should be the one apologizing," I told him, giving him a smile. I couldn’t stay angry at my best friend for long. He nodded in acceptance, then changed the subject.

"Is your dad gonna be home?" he asked.

"I dunno. I hope not. I don't feel like dealing with his drunkenness at the moment," I said, a small hint of anxiety creeping up on me.

We soon reached my house, its design and handicraft my father's. Michael waved as he threw his skateboard on the ground and took a running leap onto it. I twiddled my fingers at his receding form, and headed down my front walk. My steps were slow and stalled as I wonder again if my father was home. He was never pleasant or easy to deal with after he had turned to alcohol when mom left. I was never told the full story of why she left, why she returned to France without as much as a goodbye. One day she was just gone. Whenever I asked dad about it, he becomes angry, and shouts at me not to ask questions. I had learned quickly to keep silent about that subject.

I pulled the house key from the back pocket of my jeans, and push it in the keyhole. After the lock clicked softly, I opened the door into the house. Letting the door swing in, I paused in the threshold. The house was quiet. I was silent as I shut the door behind me, and crept through the house. The living room was a mess, as was the kitchen. I carefully picked my way to the stairwell and up to my room on the second floor. My father wasn't home, which meant he was out drinking on his day off of work. Which meant he would come home drunk off his high horse.

I closed my bedroom door behind me, and dropped my bag on the maple wood floor. With a sigh, I fell against the mattress on my floor, and instantly began to feel drowsy as I let all my muscles relax. I let my eyelids drop closed.

A few minutes passed, and I dozed in and out of little catnaps. A sudden pressurized sensation in the room fully roused me, and I bolted up, confused. I jumped as the sound of ripping fabric tore the air and a massive form fell out of nowhere onto my floor. I became rigid as I smacked my hand over my mouth to stifle the vocal gasp. A large beast was sprawled on my floor, its form rising and falling rapidly in heavy, wheezing breaths. It had the general form of a hulking human, but instead of feet, it had large horse hooves, the big shaggy kind of a Clydesdale. The hooves were originally white, but then mud-caked and filthy. The beast was clothed in ragged jeans, and the frayed fragments of a plaid shirt. Its skin was a raw, sickly red color, with many spots, scars, and patches of rotting flesh. The beast was barrel-chested and bulky, built of corded and rippling muscles. Charred white horns protrude from the top of its heavily ridged forehead, curving back and out to frame its wide face, and long sharp tusks stuck up against its cheeks from its under-biting jaw, which was slacked as the beast panted. Where its nose should have been was an empty crevice, like looking at a skeletal skull. From the shoulder to the elbow of its left arm, the limb was proportionate to the rest of the beast, but from the elbow down, the arm enlarged to a massive claw with glinting ivory talons. I noticed then that the beast was covered in deep gashes. Silver-colored liquid was oozing from its wounds.

I stared, frozen. The beast groaned, a deep rumbling sound, as it began to stir. Its eyes snapped open. They were heavily bloodshot, with smoky lavender irises. They darted around the room in confusion as it used its massive claw to lift itself from the floor. Its face twisted into an ugly grimace as it grunted, clutching its side, and it fell back to the floor. Its horns connect with the wood in a loud bang, causing me to gasp and jump. The beast's eyes shot to me. It seemed completely taken aback by my presence, and it scrambled to stand. It gave a guttural roar, causing me to wince and cower against the wall. Adrenaline pumped as my fight or flight mode kicks in, and I snatched the baseball bat that rested against my mattress. With trembling hands, I brandished it like a sword. The beast's roar morphed into a chortling laugh. It unnerved me to the core.

"Are you going to take on a demon with that, girl?" he asked, his voice scratchy. I swallowed hard, my heart pounding.

"Who are you?" I demanded, my voice more confident than I felt. He let out a rumbling laugh, the sound raising the hair on the back of my neck.

"You don't know who I am?" he inquires, placing his gigantic claw on his chest in a hurt manner. “I have to be honest, that one hurts my feelings a little… I'm Hexus!" he barked the last bit, his demeanor turning suddenly nasty. At his shout, I dropped the bat, and fell against the mattress.

"I don't believe in demons…" I whispered, screwing my eyes shut tight. Hexus' hooves sounded against the wooden floor.

"Don't believe in demons?" he said softly, his voice creamy and dream-like, and very close in my ear. I opened my eyes, only to jump back in repulsion. His hideous face was only inches in front of mine. He took my chin in his normal hand, digging his fingers painfully into my skin. His touch sickened me. He forced my face back toward him, his lavender gaze burning.

"Smart girl," he whispered, with a suppressed intensity, "Because demons don't exist!" Grasping me by the neck, he hoisted me high above the room. I gagged, grasping at his thick wrist in attempt to breathe.

"It’s been nice chatting with you," he told me, bloodshot eyes gleaming.

"Do it," I challenged with a fierce choke, the adrenaline coursing through me as I match his glare.

"I plan on it." Hexus flexed his giant claw as the thick talons extended a few inches. I closed my eyes as a feeling of hopelessness rose to challenge the adrenaline. My body swayed as Hexus struck. A bright light flashed against my eyelids, and Hexus roared as he released me. Gasping, I fell onto the bed. The beast stumbled back in a clatter of hooves, clutching his claw and staggering blindly as I sucked in gallons of oxygen. Hopelessness gone, the adrenaline took over and I grasped the baseball bat and stand. Taking advantage of the temporarily blinded beast, I swung as hard as I could. The bat connected with the back of his head, on the area right below his horns. Hexus toppled to the floor with a mighty crash, his horns gouging the wood. I dropped the bat, holding my arms tight against me as the pain from the reverberation shot through my arms. Shakily, I raised a hand to my throbbing neck. My fingers touched something wet. I drew back my hand to examine it, and found my fingers covered in a silvery liquid. It glistened as I roll it between my fingers. I glanced up at the unconscious demon. The same silver liquid was pooled around him, oozing from his many wounds. I bit my lip. There were knives in the kitchen, it would be easy to kill this beast…

I shook my head as my stomach churned uneasily. I couldn't kill someone, demon or otherwise. Carefully, I stood and crept over to the huge mass of Hexus. I knelt hesitantly beside him, his silvery blood soaking into the knees of my jeans. With a heave, I rolled him over onto his back. His breathing was shallow and ragged, and I hesitantly placed two fingers on the side of his thick neck. His skin was cold and unpleasant, and his pulse was weak.

I stood and moved to a box that sat beside my mattress, and dug through it briefly before pulling out an old set of bed sheets. I tore them into strips, and when I finished, I skirted to the bathroom for some wet rags and soap. I returned to Hexus fully armed, and began to tentatively and experimentally bandage the gashes that cover him.