My Demon Volume 1

My Demon

Volume 1

A Serial Project

by S.A. Hunter

© 2015 S.A. Hunter

This work gathers the previously published episodes 1-4 of the serial My Demon.

License Notes:

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people unless permitted by purchase agreement. If you would like to give this book to another person, please download an additional copy for each person.

This is a work of fiction. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cover design by S.A. Hunter

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My Demon Volume 2 is available for purchase.

Other works by S.A. Hunter

Unicorn Bait

Dragon Prey

~The Scary Mary Series~

Scary Mary

Stalking Shadows

Broken Spirits

Strange Girl

Monday, Day 1

I watched the sea of students in blue blazers with unease. They moved back and forth in the south hall, laughing, talking, and calling out to each other. I tightened my grip on my satchel and stepped into the flow. I walked quickly, intent on my goal. Various eyes met mine briefly before sliding away. I kept expecting someone to do a double-take and raise an alarm. I was an interloper. I didn’t belong here. My steps quickened. I just needed to get to my first class. Once inside, I’d be safe.

I knew that my fear was irrational. No one was going to point at me and call the guards. They had no reason to do so. I was dressed like all of them, but it felt like a disguise. I looked like one of them, but I wasn’t. And I never would be.

This was Noble Academy, the most elite academy in the world. Only the richest and most powerful teens were ever admitted. Until today. I was neither rich nor powerful. I was enrolled because my family couldn't afford to send me anywhere else. If that wasn’t irony, then I’d get that question wrong on the SATs. I was admitted as special compensation. I was not here on any academic or athletic scholarship. I was here because my father fixed the toilets, and my mother cooked the meals. They were servants. No, excuse me that wasn’t PC anymore, they were staff. Too bad everyone still treated them like servants. I would have rather enrolled anywhere else, but we couldn’t afford to send me anywhere. So here I was starting my first day at Noble Academy.

I knew the campus by heart. I'd been wandering through it my whole life, but only ever as a shadow. The Academy was the only home I'd ever known, but I'd never felt like I belonged. Now I was wearing one of the navy blue jackets with the gold N embroidered on the front, right over the heart, and I felt like a stranger in my own skin as I slipped into my very first class. Most of the other students were already there, though they hadn't taken their seats yet. The seat in the far corner looked unclaimed. I slipped into it and stowed my bag. No one greeted me or made eye contact. They all knew each other. They’d probably known each other since preschool. I was a stranger. Someone to close ranks against. That was fine. I just wanted to be left alone.

Prof. Edward arrived a minute after me, arms overflowing with papers as he balanced a coffee cup precariously on top. His dress shirt already sported a coffee stain on the front. He was bald with a halo of wispy gray and black hair. His eyebrows were monstrous. I suspected he purposely combed them up in the morning. It gave his black rimmed glasses the appearance of fringe on top. He had taught at Noble for twenty years now. He liked red wine. Lots of red wine. I'd helped my father collect the empty bottles from his doorstep.

The bell rang, though no one paid it any attention. Prof. Edward made noises for everyone to settle down without actually asking anyone to take their seats. I saw him see me in the back, but he didn’t appear to recognize me. I wondered if he would recognize my parents.

A shadow fell across me. I looked up to find a guy frowning down at me.

You're in my seat, he said.

He hadn't been in the room when I came in. From the looks of him, he appeared to have just arrived. Quite literally. He wasn't wearing a school uniform, and he had no book bag or satchel. He was dressed all in black with silver studs in his ears and a gold Rolex watch on his wrist. He had a great poof of curly brown hair and narrow blue eyes. He was handsome, but there was a malevolence about him that put me on edge.

There’s no assigned seating, I said. I didn't want to give up my seat just because he told me to.

The smile that curled his lips raised goose bumps on my arms.

I think you're mistaken. You see whatever seat I want is mine. So this seat is mine. If you want, you can sit on my lap.

Was this guy for real? I scanned the rest of the room. All of the other seats had been taken. Where was I supposed to sit? His lap was not an option.

No, I said.

What?

People were beginning to notice us while Prof. Edward took attendance.

I said no. I'm sitting here, so ipso facto the seat is mine.

Is that so? He grabbed the desk and flung it across the room.

It landed with a crash and all of my books spilled out of it.

What’s going on? Prof. Edward shouted.

I turned to the guy, my mouth hanging open in disbelief.

Get up.

He didn’t give me a chance to move. He leaned down and grabbed me by my jacket lapels and dragged me up.

I will have no fighting in my classroom! Prof. Edward shouted.

The guy turned and flashed a smile at the professor. From my vantage point of hanging from his fists, I got a good look at his canines. They were pearly white and very sharp. Sorry, professor. There appears to be a shortage of seating, and I was discussing with my friend here the best way to rectify that.

I don’t believe I called your name, young man.

Oh, maybe that’s the problem. My parents only registered me this morning. I’m Damien West.

My eyes widened at his name, as well as everyone else’s. Among the richie rich, the Wests were the richest. They were also the biggest donors to Noble Academy. Every other building bore the name West. It made giving directions difficult.

Damien turned back and gave me an appraising look. I don’t believe you called my friend’s name either.

I skipped Sarah’s name since I could see she was here.

So the old wino did recognize me.

Well, Sarah needs a seat.

Yes, Sarah, please go get one out of storage, will you?

I didn’t protest the injustice of having to get a desk and chair when I clearly had both. Logic was obviously no longer in play. Intimidation, violence, and wealth had chased it from the field. Damien let me go, but he had to lay it on thick by smoothing out my lapels and giving me a malignant smile. I backed away from him and out of the room. I was afraid to take my eyes off him like he was a wild animal who would attack me if I looked away. Once I was out the door, I heard Prof. Edward begin his lesson. He wasn’t going to hold class for me. I would have to hurry if I didn’t want to miss too much. I knew where spare desks and chairs were kept. I went down the hall, listening to the muted voices of teachers from other classrooms.

So Damien West was in my class and he was a psychopath. Lovely. It shouldn’t surprise me. I had long ago observed that oodles of money seemed to give people license to lose all common sense and disregard decorum. The more money someone had; the less human they were.

Damien West was rich enough to be demonic. I wondered if that had informed his parents’ choice of name.

Hey, kiddo. Playing hooky already?

I turned and saw an eye looking out from a crack in the door of a utility closet. I recognized the eye. No, Red. I need to get a desk and chair. We ran out in my class. I decided not to go into the whole desk hurling and threat of bodily harm that coincided with it.

Red was a handyman like my father. He actually was who’d hired my dad decades ago. He was like family. A regular guest for dinner and always included in holiday celebrations. For the past few years, he’d claimed to be on the verge of retirement, but had never set a date.

From the crack in the door, I saw one of his eyebrows rise. Well, can’t have that. He opened the door and stepped out. He was wearing faded blue overalls and a massive ring of keys strained his right belt loop. I followed him to a nearby storage room. He unlocked the door and held it open for me. I went in and immediately started sneezing from all of the dust. Red lifted a sheet to reveal a battered desk and chair. Here we go. Grab the chair and we’ll be on our way.

I picked up the chair and wondered if Red would have called for my dad if I’d been any other student looking for a desk and chair. I couldn’t imagine any of the other students willingly assisting with such a menial task. Of course, I couldn’t protest and ask for my father to do this instead. I might wear the uniform but that didn’t mean I was treated the same.

We went back to Prof. Edward classroom. I almost knocked but jerked my hand back as I realized that I was about to ask to come in. The act was so ingrained from my parents that it was second nature, but I had every right to be going into this room. I didn’t need to ask for permission.

Prof. Edward paused mid-sentence as I came in carrying my chair. Red carried in the desk. He set it in the back for me. I nodded my thanks to him. He doffed his cap with a wink and slipped out of the room. I sat in my new seat and looked around for my books. They were nowhere in sight. Though I didn’t want to, I looked over at Damien. He had his feet propped up on my previous desk, leaning back in the chair, flipping through one of my text books. My satchel still hung off the back of the chair. I doubted he’d want to keep my bag. It was lavender with butterflies embroidered on it.

Without any of my school supplies, all I could do was listen to Prof. Edward’s lecture. He was giving an overview of England’s early history: The various invasions, tribal wars, and living conditions of the early Britons. I listened and hoped to retain some of it without any proper written notes to refer to after class.

As Prof. Edward droned on, I couldn’t help glancing over at Damien West. He still had his feet propped up on the desk. He wasn’t taking notes. He didn’t appear to be paying attention at all. He’d dropped my text book to the floor where it had fallen open face-down. I hoped the pages weren’t badly bent. He had a shiny smartphone out and was tapping away at it. Sure, he could have been taking notes that way, but somehow, I highly doubted it. I wondered what I was to do if I had to share more classes with this person. Since we were in History together, the likelihood of us being together in other core classes was very likely. Good God, we could even share all of our core classes. The admission staff sometimes did that. They’d group students they thought would work well together. I hoped they hadn’t had some collective bout of dementia and thought I would be good with Damien West.

When class ended, I dawdled, waiting for Damien to rise and abandon my belongings. He didn’t budge from his seat. If I continued to wait for him to move, I was going to be late for my next class.

I screwed up my courage and went over to him. May I have my things? I asked finally. I kept my voice as even and as pleasant as possible.

He didn’t look up from his phone. I don’t know you, he said.

You wouldn’t. My name’s Sarah. I’m no one special. I figured debasing myself would be the swiftest way to reclaiming my things.

You’re right about that. But I’ve never seen you before. What’s your last name?

The room was filling with the next class. Prof. Edward had disappeared when the bell rang. The new students were staying clear of us, but they watched us with curiosity.

I took a deep breath and clenched my fists. I just wanted to go to my next class. Smith, I told him.

Damian’s eyes flicked over me before dropping back to his device. Of the Trinidad Smiths?

No. I’d never heard of them. But Smith was such a common name. There were sure to be rich Smiths somewhere in the world. I wasn’t related to them though.

The bell for second period rang. I was now officially late. Prof. Edward came back in. All right everyone, take your—Mr. West, Ms. Smith, you need to go to your next class, he said.

I cast him a dour look. He had to see Damien was holding my belongings hostage. Damien stretched and pocketed his phone. Without comment, he rose and left the room nonchalantly. I quickly scuttled to collect my bag and books. My gaze met Prof. Edward’s as I exited. His eyes dropped away with a touch of shame. I had no real issues with Prof. Edward. He was harmless and generally kept to himself, but he could’ve helped me by being a bit firmer with Damien. I headed toward my next class, hoping to be excused for being tardy, but it seemed I was destined to be super tardy. Someone grabbed my arm as I went down the hall and halted my rush.

Walk with me, Damien said.

His hand circled my elbow. I turned to him in disbelief.

I have to get to class, I said and winced at the touch of whine that was in my voice.

God, don’t tell me you’re really that boring.

I breathed out through my nose. Yes, yes, I really am that boring. Please let go of my arm.

His hold tightened instead. It hurt.

Let go, I repeated, futilely trying to pull free.

Let’s have some fun, he said. I heard the snick of a blade. My eyes darted to his other hand. He had a switch blade. He held it up and placed the knife against the front of my blouse, right between my breasts. He cut off the button with a flick of his wrist. The button pinged when it hit the ground.

This was too much. I screamed, Help!

To my surprise, the first person to come to my aid was my dad. He came hurling around the corner. He took in the sight of Damien holding a knife to my chest and gasped.

Let her go! he yelled and charged at us.

Strangely, Damien moved in front of me to block my father, instead of putting me between them. Damien brandished his knife, but Dad had a mop. He swung it at Damien and hit him square in the chest. Damien was thrown into the wall. The mop was wet. It splattered his black sweater and face with smelly, dirty water. I darted away and hid behind Dad. I peeked over his shoulder at Damien. I wondered what we should do now. Damien had assaulted me. But would anyone care?

Damien pinched and pulled his soggy sweater away from his body. His nose curled in disgust at the smell of the dirty water. He glared up at my dad.

You’re dead, old man.

He lunged with his knife.

Dad! I screamed.

He raised his mop and shoved it into Damien’s face. The teen boy went crashing to the ground. Dad moved closer and pressed the mop into his chest to pin him down. Damien glared up at him murderously and wiped his face.

Sarah, go get help, Dad told me, but there was no need. Security was already in the hall running toward us. They had guns. With all of the high profile children that attended the academy, we had practically a small standing army.

They fanned out and encircled us. I realized with a start that all of their guns were pointed at Dad. What are you doing? Damien attacked us, I said, moving closer to him.

David Smith, put down the mop and come with us, Capt. Timmons said. Security and maintenance had never been close, but I’d thought that they’d always had a bit of respect for one another. None of that was in the captain’s eyes as he looked at my father.

He didn’t do anything wrong! It was Damien West. He pulled a knife on me, I said.

Dad laid the mop down and put his hands up.

Sarah, it’s going to be all right. You should get to class, he said.

Are you joking? I tried to block the guards as they moved in to take Dad by the arms, but they pushed me roughly aside. I stumbled back and watched in horror as they escorted him away.

Dad!

He looked back at me with guards all around him. Don’t worry, Sarah, he said. They disappeared around the corner.

Capt. Timmons had remained behind. He knelt in front of Damien West and held out a handkerchief. Damian grabbed the piece of cloth and wiped his face with angry swipes. I want him shot, he said.

My eyes went wide, and I launched myself at him in blind fury. I wasn’t thinking and I didn’t care. I managed to slap him once before Capt. Timmons hauled me back.

Let me go! I shouted, struggling like a wild animal in the captain’s grasp.

Sarah Smith, calm down, he said.

Damien West had gotten up. Exhaustion more than any sense of returning calm had my struggles lessen. The boy leaned into my face with a smirk.

That was your father? he asked.

I spat into his face.

Sarah! Capt. Timmons shouted and turned me away.

Let her go, Damien said.

Sir? Capt. Timmons asked.

Let her go.

I’m sorry, sir. But she is clearly a danger to your well-being. I will have to escort her to the cells.

My mind was a swirl of incomprehension. That psycho had pulled a knife on me. He was still holding the knife! Yet I was the one in trouble?