Columbine

Alice DuLac stared ruefully up at the ceiling. Four years, she thought. It had been four years since the Demataxt had recruited her. And now it was her twentieth birthday, spent haplessly in a dingy office, finishing up paperwork. The tortured screams of the man she’d been assigned to question were still ringing in her ears, never quite wearing off no matter how much she tried to block them out.

She’d looked forward to the day she exited her teen years for so long, only to realize that birthdays meant as little to the Demataxt as flies to an elephant. In any normal office, she’d have been greeted with a poorly crafted cake and an off-key ‘Happy Birthday’ song. But this wasn’t a normal office. It was one of the Demataxt’s new prison grounds.

She penned the last word of her dismal report and tucked it into the case file where it belonged forever. Finally it was done. She’d thought she’d never finish. The array of prisoners had seemed so endless, but then it turned out there had only been seven of them. But for Alice, even one poor guy brought in for stealing was too much.

She sighed and massaged her temples. Another headache was blossoming in her skull. She reached over for her bottle of pills. Her prescription was going to run out soon, but it didn’t matter. If it came to begging the poor pharmacist to give her more drugs, she’d have to do it. The headaches were unbearable. They crippled her almost as much as the demon’s hollow in her back had done.

Out of habit, she reached under her shirt and fingered the enormous scar on her back – the demon’s hollow. The skin over it was slack and discolored, almost like an untimely wrinkle that covered almost all of her back. She didn’t feel anything as she poked and prodded the scar. It used to hurt like hell, but over time it just became numb.

Sighing, she swallowed three pills in a row – more than she was supposed to. She stayed still and waited for the drugs to work their magic and make the headache go away. It took an agonizing five minutes, but finally the pain left her and she realized just how tired she was. It would have been normal for her to cry, but she’d cried herself dry during her first year under the Demataxt’s employ.

“Happy birthday to me.” She groaned, setting her head onto the desk, watching the flame of her candle flicker. Being a mage, all she had to do was will the flame to die, but she forced herself to watch it. There was nothing else to do, anyway.

Suddenly there was a knock at her door. The person didn’t even wait for her permission before barging into her office.

“Damien.” She said. She knew it was him without having to look up. She’d recognize his energy anywhere. When she was young, just being near him made her suffocate, but not anymore. Now being near him was almost like being completed. At least she had one friend who’d been employed by the same prison.

“Happy birthday!” He announced cheerfully. Alice could instantly tell that something was up. She looked up at Damien. He had a glittering box in his arm, a bow tied tastefully onto the lid. At this, Alice instantly perked up.

“Hey, thanks!” She exclaimed, snatching the box from him before he could offer it. She took the lid off and gasped at the object in the box – a dragon statue. She lifted it from the box and set it onto the table. The statue was made of jade, glittering in the candlelight. Little rubies were set into the dragon’s eyes, shining even in the dimly lit office.

“Well?” Damien asked, seating himself at the other end of the table. “What do you think?”

“It’s nifty.” Alice mused, leaning over and giving Damien a friendly peck on the cheek. He deserved it, after all he’d done for her, present not included.

“How’s your day been?” She asked him, reaching into her drawer for a celebratory bottle of whiskey. She’d been storing it for god knew how long.

“Don’t ask.” Damien groaned, massaging his face. Alice uncapped the bottle and passed it to him. He deserved it more than she did. He gratefully raised the bottle to his mouth, swallowing the golden-brown liquid with a worshipful slowness. When he was done, he gave it back to Alice.

Alice mourned what the both of them had turned into for a second, before she took a swig. The whiskey burned her throat, slithering down into her body. Warmth spread across her skin and she smiled. The drunkenness was finally taking over.

They passed the bottle back and forth until there was nothing left – which was fairly soon. Alice, having had the last drink, set the empty bottle onto her desk. Now that she was good and drunk, she could finally relax. The screams weren’t echoing in her head anymore.

“Have you heard about the project in Egypt?” Damien suddenly asked. Alice nodded. There was no way she could have avoided the news if she’d tried. The outer layer of the mummies’ curse had been broken through and disintegrated. According to what she’d read, that curse had thirty-three layers total. Given enough time, it would be neutralized completely.

The thought scared her more than she cared to admit. That curse had held for so long, it was almost frightening to think that six class-one mages were enough to break through it. It made her think of all the other things that they were capable of.

“Bizarre, huh?” Alice sighed. “Makes you wonder…”

“Indeed.” Damien confirmed. Silence festered between them.

Alice allowed herself to take in the sight of him. His black coat touched the floor when he was sitting down. Alice had the same sort of coat on – it was the standard-issue uniform that Demataxt agents were required to wear. The fabric was heavy, weighing her shoulders down almost as though iron had been sewn into the garment.

He had become thinner, almost malnourished. There were dark circles under his eyes and his hair had become messy, probably from days of neglect. His clothes were dirty and streaked with small traces of blood.

He hadn’t been like this when she’d met him. Maybe it was because she’d been only sixteen and impressionable, but he’d always seemed more in control than he was now. Now he looked rugged, tired, and almost weak. His recruitment into the Demataxt had not been in an office, like Alice’s. He’d been forced into one of the many legions that dealt with crime.

Every day he prowled the streets, looking for trouble. When he found it, he brought the culprits in. Alice and her partner, Jack, did the rest. Her job was to ask questions in order to prove the prisoners guilty. Jack’s job was to torture the prisoners into telling the truth.

Jack made Alice sick. He enjoyed his job with all the malice of a bloodhound with a piece of meat. Unlike her, Jack didn’t want to leave. He enjoyed his work too much. And she was trapped with him, doomed to watch him destroy lives until either he or she got promoted.
Alice had seen executions by the dozen, and she was sick of it. She’d thought that maybe she could get used to it, but the horror was fresh every time. The screaming, the pleading for mercy, and the sickening splatter of blood – she hated it. She had to get away. The only thing that stopped her was the promise that she’d be executed if she tried to turn against the Demataxt.

A few years back, she’d been independent, free to do whatever she wanted. But ever since the death of electricity, she’d been working her ass off convicting humans of crimes that should rightfully be dealt with in a court of law.

Unfortunately, Switzerland had been overtaken by mages and demon lords. It was their primary place of residence, and it was having a toll on Alice. The country she once loved had been turned into a demonic center of commerce.

Japan had gotten the worst of it, though. It had been the tallest pillar or progress and technology. Somehow everything dealing with development found its way to Tokyo. But when that buzz of energy that had made it possible was extinguished, that magical place fell apart. What used to be a huge fortress of metal and shiny glass reverted back to what it had been before. Samarai were prowling the streets again, and Elizabeth, Alice’s godmother, had gone there to learn from them.

Elizabeth was one of the few people that were as powerful as the Demataxt's pride and joy. She wasn’t a demon, a mage, or a witch. What she had was special, unique. It set her apart from thousands of others. When she’d been eighteen, she’d gotten a toy that gave her all the power of a goddess – the Coupant Argent. It was a sword that could destroy anything that it was merely pointed at. All Elizabeth had to do was swing it, and it would spit out a bang that could cut through diamonds.

Elizabeth had also been cursed into stone for a few centuries before being un-cursed by Bael, a demon lord she’d almost killed. So even though she looked like she was twenty-two years old, she had entire centuries under her belt. She’d also been the only one who could make everything seem like it was going to be okay. With her gone, Alice could hardly get up from bed in the mornings.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Alice said. “Maybe we could relocate to another mission.”

“Oh?” Damien grunted. “Where did you have in mind?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Alice burped. She didn’t bother excusing herself. Damien didn’t even look at her funny anymore. He used to always try to get her to be more polite, but he no longer bothered. It was almost sad.

“Egypt, maybe?” Damien asked. “They were asking for anyone willing to help earlier in the lobby.”

“Hmm…” Alice pretended to consider it. The truth was, it didn’t matter where she’d get sent to. Just as long as it didn’t involve any more torture. She’d rather cook stew for the mages working on the mummies’ curse.

“You know what?” She chirped. “That’s not a bad idea.”

“Great.” Damien grinned, sitting up and giving her a friendly poke.

Alice drunkenly got out of her chair and urged Damien to stand up.

“Come on.” Alice urged. “We’re going to go get recruited.”

Damien staggered drunkenly toward the door, Alice hanging on his arm. They made their way down to the lobby. Alice signed her name on the recruitment sheet, below almost ten other mages. Damien did the same, snickering as he did so. Their names were scrabbled messily on the lines, proof of their drunkenness. Hopefully the guy in charge of the expedition wouldn’t judge them based on their handwriting.

As the two of them went back up the stairs – which was much harder than Alice had ever realized – two distinct voices reached her ears.

“Shh!” She hissed to Damien. “I hear something.”

Damien nodded, suddenly serious. Of course, being a demon hybrid, his senses were sharper than Alice’s. He could pick up on things that Alice would never even know were there. He shoved her into a dark corner, where Alice prayed they wouldn’t be seen. The dark coats helped. They were designed not only as coats, but also as a camouflage of sorts.

Focusing her ears on the voices that were carrying from another office down the hall was difficult, what with the alcohol running through Alice’s veins, but somehow she managed to do it.

“…You’re perfect for this.” Someone said. The voice seemed vaguely familiar. Alice strained to recall where she’d heard it before.

“It’s old man Gardener.” Damien whispered in her ear. Alice’s eyes widened as she realized that she was eavesdropping on the Warden Gardener himself. He was in charge of the prison. He doled out assignments and passed sentences. He was also one of the most fearsome people Alice had ever met. She had only seen him several times, but that was enough to make her shiver.

“Sir, I’m honored.” Another voice answered. Now this voice Alice recognized. It was Jack, her partner. He tortured the prisoners while she asked the questions. She could picture him in her head – short, bald, and utterly ruthless.

“I want you on that boat tomorrow. We’ve got a criminal on our hands, and we haven’t been able to locate her.” The Warden said. Alice blinked. What did he mean, unable to locate her? It was almost impossible to hide from the Demataxt nowadays.

“Don’t worry.” Jack said, the smile evident in his voice. “It may be Egypt, but I’m Jack. Do you know what the inmates are calling me?” Alice heard him chuckle. “They’re calling me the ‘Ripper’.”

After witnessing Jack’s torture methods, she knew exactly why he’d been given that title. He had a specialty, and it involved carving people up like turkeys. It was really a sick thing to see.

“Good.” The Warden praised. “I expect you to do this right.”

Alice heard footsteps and squeezed herself as far back into the corner as she could with Damien taking up half the spot. After a moment of fate, the footsteps receded and they were safe again. She exhaled and finally dared to continue up the stairs.

“Did you hear that?” Damien asked. “Someone’s actually giving them trouble!”

“I know.” Alice panted, shutting the door of her office as soon as they were inside.

“You know what that means, right?” He asked. Alice nodded.

“That means we absolutely have to look into it.” She said. “If whoever it is can avoid detection long enough to get Jack involved, then maybe…” She trailed off.

Maybe all hope wasn’t lost. Maybe there were still people who rejected the New Era. Maybe someone had finally stepped up to the plate. Maybe somebody was finally staging a revolt. Alice swallowed, reminded that even if the rebel had managed to get away with a crime, Jack was going to change that.

“We have to find out what happened.” Alice said firmly. Damien nodded.

“So we can help them.” He finished. “If they need helping, that is.”

Alice looked at him. He was serious. Good thing she was, too.

“We’re getting on that boat.” She said. “We’re going to Egypt.”

“And we’re going to look into this.” Damien added.

Alice smiled. The room was suddenly brighter.