The Demon Inside Me

Chapter One

Tuesday was a mixed sort of day. On the upside, I met a girl who pulled me close and whispered in my ear. On the downside, she put a knife to my throat and said she was going to kill me.

A mixed sort of day. I've had worse.

I raised my hands without being asked. Wallet's in the front right pocket. Tomorrow was payday, and I only had a few bucks on me, so what the hell. If she needed the money that badly, she could have it. No one would see her unless someone bothered to look out the window, down into the alley between Lark Street and my gym. I had always thought less of myself for being motivated enough to get up and exercise early in the morning, but then taking a shortcut instead of walking an extra minute. Now my laziness was paying off, so to speak.

Instead of taking the wallet like a halfway competent mugger, she continued to whisper in my ear. Her words weren't English, but a language with harsh consonants and glottal stops. Many humans bit their tongue halfway through a sentence. Unfortunately for me, she was fluent enough to spray all over my ear.

I swallowed and felt the knife press a little harder into my throat. I'm sorry, but I'm not quite sure what you're trying to say.

She repeated herself. I wanted to tell her that repeating what you just said, only louder, doesn't work on anyone over the age of six. Instead, I corrected her pronunciation. The knife abruptly pulled away. You're not Azriphel, she said.

I rubbed my throat. My fingers came away red and I clicked my tongue in annoyance. John was going to have my head if I showed up bloody today with management making their monthly appearance in the call center. No way could I talk it off as a shaving accident. I'm not Azriphel, no, nor would he submit to you, even if you asked politely. What you said wasn't coherent, much less polite. Is that what you were trying to get across, or do you need some help with pronunciation?

The point of her knife poked into my back. I moved my hand away from my throat and stretched that arm out again. You know Azriphel, she stated. Her voice was soft. She sounded cute. She'd have been cuter without the knife. If you know Azriphel, I'm going to have to kill you after all. I can't let word get back to him.

Hold on. Hear me out first. You have me at a severe disadvantage here. Let me say my piece and see if I can convince you to let me live instead.

Ten words or less.

Excuse me?

Ten words or less, she repeated. I won't count those.

I sighed. I don't need ten words, only three. I'm a halfblood.

That's four words, she said. Twelve words total. I need to decide if I should kill you. Give me a moment to think it over.

You're going to kill me for using contractions? You can't do that. That's the most ridiculous reason to die I've ever heard. I shook my head. Look, if you've got something against Azriphel, that's fine by me. I've heard about him. I'm insulted you'd mistake me for him. That hurts. That hurts deep. I understand why you'd want to hunt him. Now how about you let me go, I'll forget all about this and go to work, and you can get back to hunting him. Sound like a deal?

You talk a lot for a demon. The point of the knife pressed against the small of my back. I still hadn't gotten as much as a glimpse of her. Her tone was so soft, I suspected I wouldn't be able to recognize it if I ever heard it again.

Halfblood, I said. I'm a halfblood.

You haven't proven that, she said.

How do you expect me to prove it?

Don't die. The blade slid in next to my spine, gliding through skin and muscle. I held very still. She had aimed low enough to miss my heart, for which I was grateful. She wiggled the knife a little, widening the slice by another fraction of an inch, and I felt blood start to gush. The girl was ruining one of my favorite shirts. Worse yet, I'd need to take a sick day.

It also hurt like a son of a bitch. Maybe she wasn’t such an amateur after all.

Are you still alive? she asked.

I'm still alive.

Are you sure?

I patted my sides, then my chest. Still here. Happy now?

I have an ignition spell imbued on my knife, she said. I'd recommend not upsetting me. I'm a jumpy girl. Easily startled. Loud noises might make me do something regrettable. You know how it goes.

Maybe I had underestimated her. Maybe she had the capability to do me serious harm. Maybe. All right. You got me. Now what?

What do you mean, now what?

I mean, congratulations, you stuck it in, now what are you going to do with it? Do you want to stay here and exchange witty banter until someone wakes up and calls the cops? Girl, this situation isn't going to get any better for either of us. Like I said, we can both just walk away from this, forget it ever happened, and get on with our lives. My arms were starting to get heavy. Sound like a deal?

I don't see why I should just let you go, she said. Even if you're not Azriphel, you're still a demon. I have a nice prize here. I think I should take advantage of that.

Under different circumstances, I wouldn't mind being taken advantage of by a young lady such as you. It's been a while, you know.

She laughed. You've got an imbued knife stuck in your back and ichor running down the crack of your ass. Even though I could set you on fire with a word, you're still cracking wise. If you weren't a demon, I think I could get to like you.

Hey, I like you, even if you did stick a knife in my back. I like gutsy chicks like you. I think we'll be good friends, once we get past this little disagreement.

Disagreement?

Yeah. I flexed my shoulders and took a deep breath. It hurt, but I was already deadening the pain. First of all, I'm not a demon. I'm a halfblood. I insist on that distinction. Second, that's not ichor, that's blood, just like what's running in your veins. I’m type O positive, if you're curious. Third, if that knife does have some sort of magic on it, it's so weak I can't even feel it. It wouldn't set me on fire, much less a full-blooded demon. Azriphel would be more likely to die from laughter than injury.

She took a short, quick breath. I continued. Like I said, I'm willing to let bygones be bygones. This is my third time asking. I'm free to act after this, you know that, right? She didn't reply. So, let's walk. No harm, though I should make you pay for the clothes you ruined. Everyone's happy. Sound like a deal?

I felt a tug as she pulled the knife out. I bet her hand was drenched. Served her right. I patted the wound and swore silently. One of my favorite shirts, slashed and soaked with blood, absolutely ruined. It had cost me thirty bucks, on sale. What a wonderful day.

I looked over my shoulder, but she had already turned her back on me. Golden blonde hair streamed halfway down her back, pulled back by a hairband. The band itself caught my eye. A pattern was etched into the metal, a circle with an equilateral triangle stretched across it, each corner extending just past the curve of the circle.

I stopped staring at the hairband and checked her out. She was short, tiny in comparison to me. The top of her head didn't even come up to my shoulders. The mental image made me laugh, and I saw her shoulders stiffen. Hey, I wasn't laughing at you, I said. Well, ok, I was. You're shorter than I thought. Did you need a stepladder to reach my throat?

She spun around so quickly, her hair whipped out in a halo around her. The knife was back in her hand and her teeth flashed white. Without saying a word, she spun the knife between her fingers and slashed it across her left palm. I blinked. Blood oozed from the wound and she quickly slapped the flat of her knife against the wound, flipped it over, and did it again on the other side.

It was the blood loss. It certainly wasn't due to watching her ass in her short shorts, or watching her chest heave under that tight white tank top. It certainly wasn't because I was wondering how she'd look without those shorts or top.

Naturally, she stabbed me in the stomach, deliberately aiming for a place that wouldn't be fatal. The knife, covered in her blood, sank in. It took seconds for her blood to mingle with mine, and this time I did feel the tingle of magic, like an itch somewhere that just can't be scratched. Hey, this is a really big mistake, I said.

By my blood, I bind you, she said. By my blood, I invoke a contract.

I don't know anything about Azriphel, I said. Really, I don't. You're not going to get much out of a contract with me.

By my blood, I bind you. By my blood, I invoke your service.

I'm not a good servant. I mean, I work in sales, but that's not really service, right?

By my blood, I bind you. By my blood, I invoke your obedience, she said, and her determined expression faded into a grim smile. Unfamiliar magic burned through my veins. And I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't die before we're done here.

I'd appreciate it if you'd pull the knife out, I said. Are you sure you want to do this? It's not very polite to stab and bind a stranger. Didn't your parents teach you any manners?

She yanked the knife out and wiped it on my shirt. I nearly protested, but gave it up. The shirt was a write-off, the pants were a write-off, the whole damn day was a write-off, and now I had contract negotiations to deal with. I glared at her and her smile became a grin. Don't glare at your new master like that, demon, she said. I'll get upset. You already know I get easily upset.

Halfblood, I corrected her.

Demon, she said.

Halfblood!

Demon. Let's get down to business here. I need help, and you're going to help me. You owe me a contract by sunrise, right? She looked at her left wrist. There was no watch. I'll be, about an hour to sunrise. What a surprise. Where shall we begin?

I held my hands up in front of me. Settle down, my bonnie lass. First of all, give me the knife, if you please.

She cocked her head to the side. Give you the knife so you can stab me?

Are you kidding? You're too pretty to stab. I pointed at my stomach, which was still leaking. I'd just like to do something about this before we start contract negotiations.

She laughed and flipped the knife toward me. I caught it and concentrated on my blood. Halfblood wasn't just a metaphor for my parentage. I forced ichor to my left hand and jabbed my finger. A drop of green ichor oozed from the puncture, hissing and smoking. The stench of sulfur from a single drop was sickening. Impressive, was all she said.

If you say so, I said. I stopped finding it impressive when I was a kid. I pulled my shirt up to reveal the gaping, oozing wound in my gut.

You're going to use your own ichor to heal yourself? Why didn’t you just push it from where I already cut you?

Waste not, want not, I said. I could start gushing ichor all over the ground if you'd like. The fumes might not kill you, but I hear that prolonged exposure isn't too healthy.

She shrugged. You're the expert, I guess.

I touched the ichor to the wound and let the demonic part of my being do its work. The cut began to seal itself. I could have regenerated it normally, but that would have worked from the inside out, and I wanted the visible wound to go away first. Getting back to the apartment in a blood-soaked shirt was going to be hard enough without leaving a trail. Like I said, my bonnie wee lass, I'm a halfblood. That's why I was bleeding sweet red blood first, rancid green ichor second.

Did you just call me a bonnie wee lass again?

No. I called you a bonnie lass the first time, and a bonnie wee lass just now.

She stuck her hand out. I want my knife back.

I'll give it back once we get back to my place.

What? Her composure was fracturing. Look, demon, do you think you're in charge here? You have less than an hour to make a contract with me. You're going to be on the serving end, remember?

Is that what you think a contract is? I asked. Contracts are binding as partners, not master and servant. Something for something, and believe me, I'm not interested in your soul, and 'allowing you to live' hasn't passed arbitration in hundreds of years. We've got case law on our side.

Her lip curled. We'll see about that, demon.

I slapped my forehead. Would you...no, never mind. Look. Let's go back to my place and cool off. We'll have some coffee, relax, and discuss terms. Her expression didn't change and I sighed. Look, wench, I need to change my clothes, thanks to you, and I need to call in sick, also thanks to you, and I need to lie down for a while. That last part's also thanks to you, if you didn't already figure it out. You owe me that much.

Wench?

I don't know what to call you, woman! I threw my hands up in the air. I despair of you. Where's your sense of humor?

I'll show you my sense of humor as soon as you give me my knife back.

Funny. I'll give you the knife back at the door to my apartment, I said. You can consider it a test to see how I'll keep my end of the contract up.

You have some big brass ones for a demon who's been busy bleeding all over the alleyway for the past few minutes. I'll play along. I'm not the one who's going to have the blood start boiling out of my body come sunrise. If you want to keep it to the last minute, that's fine with me. I can always hunt another demon.

No offense, but I hope you fail at hunting down any other demons, I said.

None taken, she said. So lead on, Mr. Demon. Let's go back to your den of evil.

I shut my mouth before I could get into any more trouble and led her back to my apartment a couple of blocks away. The blood on my clothes raised a few eyebrows, but we made it without public outcry, which wasn't terribly surprising, considering the area. The girl seemed calm enough, but when she brushed against me walking into my building, I could sense her heart hammering. By the way she glanced at me, I wondered if she had gotten a read on me too.

I was feeling a bit lightheaded. Even with my ichor taking up the slack, I couldn't just blow off that sort of blood loss. A couple minutes of rest was all I needed to get myself back in order.

The elevator took us up to the third floor. Normally, I'd have taken the stairs. I didn't want to get any blood in the stairwell, or fall down the stairs, so I leaned on her shoulder. There were three reasons for that. First, it meant she couldn't get a good grab at the knife without dropping me. Second, I got a good look down her top. Third, it made her assume I was weaker than I really was.

We took a step out of the elevator as soon as the doors slid open and I got a face full of tits. As such joys weren't a daily occurrence, I didn't complain. When the owner of said tits backed off, I reluctantly looked up. I was hoping I had a new neighbor, or maybe it was one of the grad students from the other end of the hall. Instead, Rebekah Silvatini crossed her arms and frowned down at me. You look like hell, Bright, she said.

Thanks, Becky, I said. I feel pretty hellish right about now.

You want me to have a chat with whoever did it? She smiled. One of her teeth looked newly capped. In case it wasn't clear, she slapped her left side. I heard something hard thump against something soft. I wanted no details.

The girl wasn't saying anything. I didn't blame her. Becky wasn't easy on the eyes. Monica Bellucci, she wasn't. Not a big deal, Becky. I got jumped on the way to work. This little ray of sunshine gave me a hand getting home. Isn't she precious?

Becky leaned down to investigate my mystery girl. She's cute. Your new girl?

Not yet, I said, earning a baleful glare.

Becky leaned in closer and licked her lips. I groaned inwardly. She’s too cute for you. Maybe I should take her and teach her a thing or two.

I regret to inform you that I'm one hundred and ten percent straight, the girl said. And if I had to choose between him and you, I’d choose to cut my own throat.

I wanted to slap a hand over her mouth, but the damage had already been done. Becky straightened up and laughed. I like this one, Bright, she said. Spicy.

I chuckled weakly as a door slammed shut down the hallway. I peered around Becky's bulk. Her roommate, Lionel, was a good match for her in size, character, and attitude. Miss Rebekah, he said. We need to get moving. Your father is impatient.

Business. Becky brushed us aside as she got onto the elevator. Lionel followed, testing just how much weight the cable could bear. See you later, Bright, she called as the doors slid closed.

Don't get arrested, I called back.

Arrested? the girl asked.

Becky's got a tendency to go places that nice, law-abiding citizens like you and I wouldn't dare go near. Well, I wouldn't go there, at least.

She seems to like you.

Would you believe that it was due to one magical, wild night a few months ago?

No.

I did her a favor a couple of years ago, I said. I found her just outside her room. She barely made it up the stairs. Shot right here. I pointed at my stomach. Coincidentally, right about the same place you stabbed me. I took care of her.

What did you do to the poor woman?

I sighed. You wrong me, madam. I saved her life. She doesn't really know how, all she knows is that I was there when she fell asleep and I was there when she woke up.

What did you do? she asked.

Same thing you just saw, but maybe a little more involved. It had been much more involved, in truth. It was just a nine millimeter bullet, but it had lodged near her spine, and I had spent far more than one drop of ichor on the process of getting it out without crippling her. I would do it again in a heartbeat. Becky's a nice girl with questionable ethics and employment. Should I ask her if they're hiring? You might fit right in, little miss stabber.

I only stab demons, she pointed out.

And halfbloods, I added.

We walked up to my door, number 305. I unlocked the door and threw it open. Home sweet home, I said. And this is yours. I handed the knife to her.

She took it and immediately jabbed me in the kidney. You go in first, she said.

Oh for crying out loud, I don't booby trap my own apartment, I said. I tried it once, came home drunk a few nights later. Never again. Who'd come after me, anyways?

Like hell you don't trap it. I can see the magical circle, she said.

It's a summoning circle!

Demons can summon other demons?

I rubbed my forehead and resisted the urge to pick her up and shake her. For the nineteenth time, I'm a halfblood, not a demon. Yes, I could summon a demon, but they'd be pissed off at me interrupting their morning like that. It's rude, like yelling at someone to hurry up while they're on the can. If I want to talk to someone, I pick up the phone like a normal person.

Go break the circle, she said.

Break the circle? Look, shorty, you're starting to make demands that just aren't going to happen. That's a circle bound by my own blood and I will be damned if you make me bleed that much again to re-establish it. You've cost me enough blood today. I took a step into the apartment and she followed me in, throwing the door closed behind her.

You're already damned, she said.

It's a figure of speech!

No break, no contract, she said. I don't want your buddies crawling up out of there. I'm sure you pretend to be a nice guy and all, but you're still a demon, and the only reason you're still alive is because I can use you.

Look, let's compromise. I'll put another circle around it. That way, even if something does decide to come crawling out, it's not going to get very far. I'd have to power the circle with ichor, not blood, but a few drops wouldn't hurt too much.

You say these things, but I'm not exactly convinced of your sincerity, she said.

I'm completely sincere, one hundred percent, maybe more. If you really want to feel secure, you set up some sort of magical binding around the couch. I'm going to need to lie down. You can bind me there until we've got the contract settled. There's chalk in the drawer over there. I pointed. She hesitated, and then I felt the knife pull away from my back. She stepped around toward where I had pointed, keeping her eyes on me, never turning her back. I waited until she pulled out the box of chalk, then turned my back on her and walked into my bedroom so I could change.

Right around the same time I dropped my pants, she walked in. What are you doing?

For God's sake, haven't you ever heard of knocking? I burst out.

Can you even say that? she demanded.

What, being polite? I'm the one who's actually been polite today, you know.

Not that. Talking about God. Can a demon do that?

I raised my arms up above my head. God! If addressing you by name is unacceptable coming from the lips of an infernal halfblood, I cordially and respectfully request that you strike me down where I stand. Nothing happened, of course. I lowered my arms and looked over my shoulder. Her eyes were wide. Happy? Can I finish changing now? Or do I need to charge admission?

She backed out without another word. I dumped my bloody clothes in the garbage and threw on some old sweats. If she decided to get stabby again, at least it would involve clothes I didn't care about. When I left the bedroom, she was standing in the middle of my living room and glaring in my direction. I smirked. Enjoy the view?

You're running out of time, she reminded me.

Sure. I need to make a phone call. Want some coffee?

Are you serious? Her composure cracked again. You're going to make a phone call and brew some coffee when the contract is due in less than thirty minutes? Are you insane?

Yes, yes, and no. Do you want coffee or not?

She sat down on the edge of my good chair. Sure. Whatever. It's your life.

I walked into the kitchen and got a pot of coffee started. When it started dripping, I flipped my phone open and called my boss. John picked up on the second ring. Where the hell are you? he bellowed.

I winced. Sorry, John. I got mugged on the way to work this morning.

Bullshit, Zay!

No bullshit, I said. I'm a little banged up and I know you don't like it when I come in looking scruffy, and I look a lot worse than scruffy right now. I didn't want to embarrass you in front of the suits.

Bullshit, he repeated. You get me a police report.

I didn't report it.

Then you're done.

John!

No, Zay. You've pulled this for months. This is your third write-up. You know you're on probation. You know what company policy is like.

I nearly dropped the phone. John, I'm sorry, I can make it in late if you really need me. Just give me some time to clean up.

Sorry. He did sound apologetic. We had only worked together for about a year, but he had always treated me well enough. You can come in later, but just to pick up your check. I'll make sure you get a couple weeks as severance. You did good work. The schedule just doesn't work for you. I'm sorry things had to turn out this way.

It's all right, John, I said. I'm pissed, but I understand. I'll be around later.

Sure. Take care, Zay.

Yeah, you too. I flipped the phone closed and swore at some length. Footsteps in the kitchen reminded me that I was not alone. Sorry. Did I offend your virgin ears?

What the hell is your problem? she demanded.

I just got fired because of you. I'm going to take this into consideration during our negotiations, you know.

She snorted. Whatever. You still seem to be under the impression that you're wearing the pants here. Remember who's going to be your master?

I slapped my phone down on the counter, burned ichor, and moved. She never even saw me coming. I grabbed her by the straps of her tank top and lifted her nine inches off the ground, about eye to eye with me. Girl, you're making a lot of assumptions, I said. Her face paled and her eyes grew wide. First of all, you're causing me a lot of trouble. Anyone would be pissed in my place. Second, you seem to think that you're going to bend me over the negotiating table. I can call for contract arbitration up to the very last moment, and they can dissolve the contract if one side isn't acting in good faith. What's going to happen to you then? You're going to have no contract, no binding, and one pissed off halfblood in the room. That's not good for you.

I shook her gently and put her back down on the ground before the straps tore. Stop assuming you're going to have the whip hand here, little lady. Contracts are between equals. You give me a reasonable contract, reasonable terms, and reasonable compensation? I'll buy in. I shouldn't, but you're interesting, and I already told you, I like gutsy chicks. It's up to you. You can be a reasonable, decent person and I'll give you a hand. Or you can be a bitch and I'll give you your ass on a platter. I walked back over to the coffee maker. Cream or sugar?

She didn't say anything, but I heard her taking shaky breaths. I waited for another minute before looking over my shoulder. She had turned her back on me, but she was visibly shaking. I hoped she was scared enough to drop her plans. If she couldn't deal with a halfblood, how could she deal with an actual demon, especially one like Azriphel?

Black, she finally said. Her voice was still soft, but there was an edge to it. Like your heart, demon.

I chuckled and reached into the cupboard and took down my coffee mug, then after a moment of contemplation, another one. Mine was off white, chipped, stained from years of use. The other mug was newer, brighter, and had a bright red heart on it. I hadn’t thrown that one out yet. I filled our mugs, adding a teaspoon of sugar to mine. You haven't failed to impress me yet. I heard her feet shuffle. You're tougher than you look. Last time I did that to someone, he pissed himself. Thankfully, it wasn't in my apartment.

You're never going to scare me that badly, demon, she snapped.

Sure. You were on the verge of catastrophic bladder control failure. I turned and thrust the mug at her. Take your coffee, sit down, and let's get this over with.

She followed me back into the living room and I held out my hand. She slapped the knife into my hand and sat on the edge of my good chair again. I stepped over to the chalk circle she had drawn around my summoning circle. She had added runes at four roughly equidistant points around the perimeter, probably insurance. I jabbed my finger for some ichor. When I touched the circle, I felt infernal energy arc around it. Anything touching that barrier would have to deal with my power first. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that if anything came through my circle, it wouldn't find my power much of a hindrance.

I retreated to the couch and lay down, passing her knife back to her. She pricked her own finger and touched it to the other circle she had chalked around the couch. I pointed back toward the bathroom. If you want a band-aid, I've got some.

I'll live. Looks like fifteen, maybe twenty minutes until sunrise. Where do you want to start, demon?

Length of service, I said, wiggling my toes at her. I'd suggest industry standard, a year and a day, renegotiable upon completion.

Just a year and a day? I was looking for something longer term than that.

I'm not looking for long term employment, I said. Correction, I'm not looking for a long term contract. I do need to eat, you know, and I'm sure that you won't feed me, so I'll need time to work. We can add a clause for renewal though.

She frowned. I’m going to write this down. Just so you can't take it back on me. Contract negotiation never held my interest. She wanted me to be both sword and shield when facing off against her adversaries. I was not in favor of that sort of relationship, to put it mildly. She insisted on a mutual defense clause at least, saying that if she was attacked while I was around, she wanted some company on the way to hell. How could I say no to that? Her primary goal was information, especially how to defend herself against other demons.

When it came time to discuss compensation, I learned something else about my mysterious new lady friend: she was cheap. She was tightfisted to the point where Scrooge himself would kneel at her altar. She flat out refused to pay in money or services. She didn't seem like she was dead broke, but maybe she got around in life by extorting services from innocent demons and halfbloods such as myself. What the hell are you willing to do, then? I finally demanded. No cash? No credit? No services, no exchanges, no refunds? What's the magic word here, shortcake?

Her features settled back into the scowl I had gotten so used to in the past half hour. I'm not going to warm your bed, demon.

I rolled my eyes. Oh, woe is me. I get the feeling you'd be bringing the knife to bed. Not interested. Sorry.

Funny, she said. Real funny. You're a funny guy.

So what's the deal? I asked. No compensation, no contract, about as cut and dried as it gets. They'll probably take a chunk of your ass on the way out, too.

What? I thought arbitration was supposed to be fair.

Fair? The arbitration itself is scrupulously fair. Don't you know how it works? She shook her head and I grinned. She was just an amateur with flashes of brilliance and guts. "Arbitration, in our