Columbine

I didn’t know what time it was when I suddenly woke up from sleep that I didn‘t recall falling into. I’d somehow managed to fall into a deep slumber in the kidnappers’ cellar, despite how cold and uncomfortable I was. The glow stick that had been hanging from the ceiling had long since gone out, and it was now pitch black.

What had made me wake up was the numbness in my feet and hands. The tape that was binding them hadn’t loosened at all, and I instantly feared that I’d never feel my fingers and toes ever again. I wiggled on the spot, but it didn’t do much.

“Damn it!” I hissed, frustrated that I could barely move.

“Do you need help?” Damien’s familiar voice called out in the darkness.

I suddenly saw a fire sprout straight up from the floor, illuminating Damien crouching protectively over it, hands dangerously close to the flames.

“What the--!” I yelped, more than a little surprised that Damien had somehow started a full-blown bonfire in the cellar.

“That’s better.” He said, sitting down next to the fire. He didn’t look away from the flames.

“You can do that?” I stammered. “Just start a fire whenever you feel like it?”

“Sometimes.” He said.

“Is that a demon thing?” I looked suspiciously at the flames. It felt as though we ought to have been roasting marshmallows, but it would have been a little odd under the circumstances.

“Yes.” He said. The calm in his voice was startling. How was he so cool and collected when it was obvious that he was a recreational activity for a bunch of kidnappers that liked to practice dropkicking in their spare time?

I could see his Demataxt coat hanging authoritatively from his shoulders, a silver embossed “D” glinting eerily in the light that was otherwise swallowed by the morbid black fabric. I didn’t know if it was a coincidence or not, but every time I saw a coat resembling the Demataxt uniform even a little, I felt my heart begin to pound.

I looked down at my relatively unthreatening outfit and felt just mortified enough to try to cover what exposed areas I could reach with my restrained hands.

“Let me help you.” Damien said, scooting over to me and taking hold of the tape over my hands. I heard a fearsome ripping noise as I felt multiple layers of duct tape come sloughing off.

“Thanks.” I offered awkwardly.

“No problem.” He said.

I reached over to get the tape off my ankles, and noticed that my feet were bare. I didn’t know how I’d missed it, seeing as there was hardly any pain there with no excruciating heels to make me miserable. Then I remembered -- I’d kicked them off back in the Blood Bank before I’d been conked on the head.

“Here. You can borrow this.” Damien said.

I found out what ‘this’ was when I felt a blissfully warm jacket swathe my upper body and reach all the way down to my claves. I also collapsed under its weight.

“Christ, that’s heavy!” I noticed as I struggled to regain my balance. “Is it made of chain mail, or something?”

“I’m not sure.” Damien scratched his head. “I’ve always thought that there was metal sewn into it.”

Without the infamous coat, he looked almost like a normal guy. No, he looked exactly like a normal guy. It was a little hard to tell in the flickering orange light of the fire, but he might have been good looking. Without the dark circles beneath his eyes, he might have even been handsome.

I could tell even in the semi-darkness that he clearly hadn’t been eating enough. What muscles I could make out just barely masked the obvious signs of malnourishment. I hadn’t thought demon hybrids could be malnourished until I saw him.

“Tell me,” He said, startling me from my observations, “why would these people kidnap you?”

I realized that I should have expected it, especially from a Demataxt agent. How I hadn’t seen this fateful question coming, I’ll never know. There was a heavier amount of emphasis on the word ‘you’, clearly notifying me that he’d caught on, and fast. Indeed, why kidnap a random person off the street? Surely I had some kind of value to their scheme. And, boy, did I have value. I had the value of a few million bucks, if not more, on my miserable little wolf’s head.

“I don’t know.” I somehow answered without missing a beat. The words came out sounding so sincere that even I almost believed them.

“Really?” Damien didn’t sound convinced.

“Yes, really.” I snapped. “They just came in and grabbed me. I don’t know what the hell they want. I wish I did, but I don’t.”

“And where is it that they grabbed you from?” Damien asked. So he had noticed the dress. Shit.

“Private party.” I managed to pull out of somewhere I‘d never explored before. I wasn’t sure if it was all the TV I’d squeezed in before the New Era, or just some unconscious reserve of excuses, but they seemed to be working.

“I’m sure you’ll find out why you’re here eventually.” Damien finally concluded, turning back to face the fire.

I pulled the edges of the coat tighter around me, relishing the warmth that it brought. What was even weirder than the fact that I’d been kidnapped from an underground lab, was that I was wearing a Demataxt coat and I hadn’t even had time to protest against it. Somehow wearing it wasn’t the same as looking at it.

“How long have you been down here?” I asked.

“I’m not sure.” Damien said. “I get the feeling it’s been a couple weeks or so.”

“Oh.” I said.

How much longer would they wait before finally turning me in? How long was enough? I’d heard them say that they wouldn’t need any more people -- that I was the last one before they finally went for the reward money. I bit my lip at the realization that, at any moment, they’d come in and sacrifice me to their stupid cause.

“I have to get out of here.” I thought out loud. Damien looked at me.

“What a coincidence -- so do I.” He tilted his head. “Believe me, I’ve tried. They’re better at this than they look.”

I felt my heart start drooping just a little. The worst kind of enemy was one that was better than it looked. Underestimate anyone for just a minute, and before you know it, you’ve got yourself a lovely bullet to the head. Not exactly something you want when you’re running for your life.

“Well, maybe…but there’s two of us now.” I tried to improve the situation.

“And?” Damien asked flatly?

“What do you mean, ‘and’?” I snapped.

“What does it matter if there’s two of us? It won’t make much difference.” He shrugged.

“What the hell?” I asked. “I thought you wanted to get out of here.”

“Of course I want to get out of here!” He showed the faintest sign of being angry. I wasn’t sure why I was more pleased than worried about that particular development.

“Then what’s the problem?” I would have crossed my arms, but the sleeves were too heavy.

“The problem is that I can’t exactly let you get killed in the process.” He said. I gaped just a little bit at his response.

“What makes you think I can’t defend myself?” I grumbled.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Damien said. “How about the fact that you’re down here?”

“That’s not fair. I wasn’t exactly expecting to get knocked on the head.” I said defensively.

“Maybe so, but I still won’t take the risk.” Damien said, stubbornness emanating from him in huge, lashing waves.

“Are you sure you’re even a demon hybrid?” I asked. “Because you’re acting nothing like one.”

Damien didn’t answer me at once. He sighed and looked at me with what almost looked like regret. Regret about what, I didn’t know.

“And what’s a demon hybrid supposed to act like?” He asked.

The way he said it made me feel almost guilty about what I’d said, but not enough to apologize. It was going to take way more than guilt to make me apologize to anyone -- ever. Guilt was the only reason anyone ever apologized for anything. I’d learned to live with it, therefore eliminating the entire gruesome process of saying ‘sorry’.

“Oh, come on.” I said. “They’re practically monsters.”

“I’m sure some of them are.” Damien said firmly. “But it just so happens that I’m not.”

“And how’s that?” I probed, not sure if it was alright to believe that I’d somehow been locked in a cellar with the only kind demon hybrid in the world.

“The first time I materialized into this world, I was still a kid.” He said. “Physically, I was four years old, and was adopted. I happened to grow up with normal humans. Is it that hard to believe that I wouldn’t just act like a normal human after that?”

I wasn’t convinced.

“It actually happens to be very hard to believe.” I said.

“And why is that?” Damien asked.

“You can’t seriously think that demon hybrids got such a bad rep from acting just like humans.” I said.

“Ever heard of a stereotype?” He smiled just a little bit. I was more than a little taken aback.

“Are you kidding?” I gaped. Damien looked down.

“It’s not exactly easy for people like me not to become monsters. That’s why so many of them do.” He said.

“Then why haven’t you gone evil?” I asked. I realized that I probably sounded more than a little rude, but I couldn’t help wanting to know.

“Believe me, it hasn’t been easy.” He said. “I first started having these dreams when I was twelve. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was actually remembering where I’d come from.”

“Oh.” I said. “How is the demon world, by the way?”

He seemed reluctant to answer that particular question at first, but seemed to force himself into it.

“It’s hard to say exactly.” He said. “I guess dark, stormy, unstable…that type of place. Only you can’t really see any of it, seeing as you’ve got no body to speak of.”

“Sounds…creepy.” I concluded.

“So it was at that age that I started noticing things about myself that made me think I wasn’t exactly normal.” Damien continued. “I’d killed a few neighborhood cats by the time the Demataxt noticed me. They weren’t too pleased.”

“Did they kill you?” I asked.

“No.” Damien said. “They made me work for them. This was in 1927, I think.”

I gaped.

“Goddamn! How old are you?” I sputtered.

“Twenty six.” He smiled, as if that age had been some sort of achievement.

“Ha, ha, very funny.” I snapped.

“The thing is, I got killed on this one assignment they’d sent me on. They only brought me back a few years ago for another job.” He explained.

“Must have been a hell of a job.” I said. He nodded, looking down on the floor in contemplation.

“So, back to your original question,” He said, “not becoming evil is never easy for any demons in general, but it’s hardest for demon hybrids. They’re just like demons with human souls, if you really think about it.”

“What about half-demons?” I suddenly asked. It was too late by the time I realized what I’d said.

“Why half-demons?” Damien asked.

“Just curious.” I shrugged.

Damien gave me a look I could only have described as suspicious.

“Well, half-demons are fairly rare. As I’m sure you know, a demon and a human have to have sex, which hardly ever happens.”

“Well, obviously it’s happened at least once.” I insisted.

“You’re right about that.” Damien nodded. “I guess half-demons are essentially human with one or more demonic traits. It’s not as hard for them to keep from becoming more demonic than for demon hybrids, but what you’ve got to realize is that human bodies retain information far more effectively than any other kind.

“If a half-demon indulges their demonic side, it’s harder to come back from that. It’s just like that with wounds. Humans take a long time to heal and always have a scar, whereas demons heal in a matter of days without any marks. Does that make sense to you?”

I thought about it for a minute.

“So if a half-demon slips, then they’re not coming back?” I asked.

“Not without significant willpower, no.” Damien confirmed.

Shit. So Valentin was a goddamn time bomb and hadn’t thought to tell anyone? I didn’t know what might finally be enough to make him slip and fall into the deep end, but I hoped it would take a lot. A hell of a lot. If he’d shown anything over the years that I’d known him, it was that he didn’t slip easily. I hoped that the trend wouldn’t break anytime soon. Or ever. Or at least until we all died asleep in our beds from old age, as if that was ever going to happen.

“Any more questions about demons?” Damien asked.

“Not really.” I shrugged.

It was at that moment that I heard the trap door of the cellar open and a shaft of light came through. Damien quickly put the fire out as fast as he’d started it. There was no noise of smoke from the fire, which was more than a little confusing. It hadn’t even needed firewood.

“Wake up, sleepyheads!” A voice roared as Doc and Simon came trolling down into the cellar. “It’s time for breakfast!”

I looked at Damien.

“They feed you?” I asked.

“Not usually.” He said, looking as confused as I felt.

“I said get up!” Doc screamed at us.

Damien and I stood up, which was more than a little hard for me, seeing as I was weighed down by the loaned Demataxt coat. I reached past my knees, the sleeves more than four inches too long. I could have drowned in the damn thing.

“You first, girlie.” He said. “Upstairs.”

I looked suspiciously at Doc, wondering if it really was breakfast, or if he was just ready to turn me in and claim the reward money.

“Now!” He yelled at me.

I finally did as he’d said. I could hear Damien walking behind me.

The morning light that was flooding the house, which really was dilapidated, as I’d suspected, was almost blinding after spending so long in the darkness of the cellar. The wooden floor felt rough against my feet, and I hoped I wouldn’t step on a splinter. The last thing I needed were more lacerations on my feet. Stepping in that stupid antique vase had been enough.

I saw Camel-shit guy and the fourth one that had answered the door sitting at a table, both eating a chunk of bread and an apple. I looked hungrily at the food, realizing for the first time in hours that I was actually starving. Memories of standing in the Blood Bank’s kitchen with Valentin working tirelessly at the stove flitted through my mind, an a sharp pang of nostalgia went through me.

“Sit down, both of you.” Doc commanded.

I reluctantly pulled out a chair. Damien sat down next to me. We looked at each other for a moment, but he kept staring at me even after I’d broken eye contact.

“Here. Eat this.” Doc commanded, putting a plate filled with food items down in front of Damien. “We’re going to have a nice, long talk about what we’re going to do with you.”

Damien was still staring at me. It was starting to make me uncomfortable.

“What?” I finally snapped, glaring at him.

“You’re name’s not Beatrice.” He said.

I realized at an embarrassingly late stage of the situation that he’d just now seen my face in the light. He’d also undoubtedly seen that same face on all the Wanted posters posted throughout the city.

“Oh, shit.” I said, burying my face in my hands.