demons, but it has always been a demon bedtime story. Then again, so was the Abomination. Just a story they told demon kids to get them to sleep at night—not really, same idea.
So, like the big coward I am, I fall behind the bed, shut my eyes, and pray. Yeah, demons pray sometimes. I do sometimes just to see if it goes through. It never has so far. Not that I know of. I don’t exactly pray for myself while I’m crouched down next to the bed knowing that the world will end, wondering how I couldn’t have seen this coming.
It’s too soon.
She hasn’t done everything yet.
Either that or the—
The heat from the light starts to fade, and after several seconds of feeling my face to see if it’s melted off, I decide I’ve survived—for now—and try my best to stand.
It feels weird to stand. After all I’ve been through. Time stood still. Time sped up. The light tried to kill me.
Typical day.
I remember a day when I first joined the Confederates. There was one day that was so hot… it was November, and a person would think it would be cold in November, and it had been—that morning. By that afternoon, it was so hot, my wool coat made me sweat in places I didn’t know a person could sweat. I was a farmer by nature. Everybody in my town was. Hell, it was 1862. You farmed or you died, as my daddy said. As the oldest brother, Lucien got most of the heavy chores. And the chores that I said I didn’t want to do because I was too little. Yes, I played the younger brother card, and yes, my father allowed it.
The heat on that November day was nothing compared to what Gracen did.
Lucien was my mother’s favorite. There’s no denying that. He looked a lot like her. Still does.
I imagine even more so now.
When I first brought Gracen home, in between feeding her blood, I tried to find ways to get Lucien back from Hell. I read and I read… stupid book… and I got nothing. No way. No how.
And now…
Now, we have to get to Prospect ASAP.
The fires of light are dying. The heat is dissipating, and either I’m dead—again—or this abomination outburst is nearly over. I’m all for the abomination outburst being over.
I feel bad for her. I do. It can’t be easy to have these feelings and not know how to handle them. When I first became a demon, I felt the same way. Rage mostly. I felt rage. I felt rage from the moment I died until…
Until my brother took my place in Hell.
It was supposed to be me that closed the gate. I helped open it after all. And what did that big idiot do? He mixed his blood with mine, tainting him so he can never enter Heaven again, and he jumped into the pit.
Allowing me to live.
Allowing me to go on and, for all intents and purposes, babysit the almost abomination.
Allowing me to watch out for her… to take care of her…
I wonder if he thought I’d kill her.
I wonder if he thought he was already dead.
I should have let her die. The world would be safer if I had.
She doesn’t know that.
She doesn’t know a lot of things.
I had a lot of time to read up while she was out, and I know a lot more than I can tell her.
She feels bad enough for what she is without knowing the whole story. Without knowing about Lucien. About herself. About what she is going to inevitably do to the world.
I can’t think about that, though. I have one goal at a time. I’ll figure out the rest when I can. We have to get to Prospect. We have to get there now. I have to find a way to keep Gracen calm, keep her as human as I can while all the demon blood I’m feeding her tries to wrap her mind in its webs. I kept my humanity—for as black as it is—in Hell. I kept it this entire time. If I can do it—a vial, evil thing who only wanted revenge on his older brother—then so can she. I just have to show her how. Like I’m such a role model.
I’m hiding behind a bed.
I’m praying to a God who hates me and my kind.
I’m lying to the girl about what she can do.
Because I don’t know what the
So, like the big coward I am, I fall behind the bed, shut my eyes, and pray. Yeah, demons pray sometimes. I do sometimes just to see if it goes through. It never has so far. Not that I know of. I don’t exactly pray for myself while I’m crouched down next to the bed knowing that the world will end, wondering how I couldn’t have seen this coming.
It’s too soon.
She hasn’t done everything yet.
Either that or the—
The heat from the light starts to fade, and after several seconds of feeling my face to see if it’s melted off, I decide I’ve survived—for now—and try my best to stand.
It feels weird to stand. After all I’ve been through. Time stood still. Time sped up. The light tried to kill me.
Typical day.
I remember a day when I first joined the Confederates. There was one day that was so hot… it was November, and a person would think it would be cold in November, and it had been—that morning. By that afternoon, it was so hot, my wool coat made me sweat in places I didn’t know a person could sweat. I was a farmer by nature. Everybody in my town was. Hell, it was 1862. You farmed or you died, as my daddy said. As the oldest brother, Lucien got most of the heavy chores. And the chores that I said I didn’t want to do because I was too little. Yes, I played the younger brother card, and yes, my father allowed it.
The heat on that November day was nothing compared to what Gracen did.
Lucien was my mother’s favorite. There’s no denying that. He looked a lot like her. Still does.
I imagine even more so now.
When I first brought Gracen home, in between feeding her blood, I tried to find ways to get Lucien back from Hell. I read and I read… stupid book… and I got nothing. No way. No how.
And now…
Now, we have to get to Prospect ASAP.
The fires of light are dying. The heat is dissipating, and either I’m dead—again—or this abomination outburst is nearly over. I’m all for the abomination outburst being over.
I feel bad for her. I do. It can’t be easy to have these feelings and not know how to handle them. When I first became a demon, I felt the same way. Rage mostly. I felt rage. I felt rage from the moment I died until…
Until my brother took my place in Hell.
It was supposed to be me that closed the gate. I helped open it after all. And what did that big idiot do? He mixed his blood with mine, tainting him so he can never enter Heaven again, and he jumped into the pit.
Allowing me to live.
Allowing me to go on and, for all intents and purposes, babysit the almost abomination.
Allowing me to watch out for her… to take care of her…
I wonder if he thought I’d kill her.
I wonder if he thought he was already dead.
I should have let her die. The world would be safer if I had.
She doesn’t know that.
She doesn’t know a lot of things.
I had a lot of time to read up while she was out, and I know a lot more than I can tell her.
She feels bad enough for what she is without knowing the whole story. Without knowing about Lucien. About herself. About what she is going to inevitably do to the world.
I can’t think about that, though. I have one goal at a time. I’ll figure out the rest when I can. We have to get to Prospect. We have to get there now. I have to find a way to keep Gracen calm, keep her as human as I can while all the demon blood I’m feeding her tries to wrap her mind in its webs. I kept my humanity—for as black as it is—in Hell. I kept it this entire time. If I can do it—a vial, evil thing who only wanted revenge on his older brother—then so can she. I just have to show her how. Like I’m such a role model.
I’m hiding behind a bed.
I’m praying to a God who hates me and my kind.
I’m lying to the girl about what she can do.
Because I don’t know what the
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