As much as I preferred to live in a world of denial, Sandy was right. However, I did manage to limp through that day in the land of denial. Having to sleep on the couch that night helped break through the barrier, but melting the coffee pot the next day solidified the knowledge I had to do something.
Before I could set the house on fire and accidentally kill Sandy or someone else, I requested a meeting with the commanding officer of our base. When he heard what I had to say, he brought in the demon leader. That was when I learned demons once walked the earth, and some found their Chosen with humans and had children with them.
Unable to return to Hell without their Chosen, those demons often chose to stay and perish on Earth. When the fallen angels entered Hell, demons were barred from walking the earth and all gateways out of Hell remained closed until the humans blew one open.
It was such an insane thing to think about, but one of those demons, from over six thousand years ago, created the line that would one day give birth to me.
The news had thrown my orderly world into a tailspin. I spent the next week in a fog as I tried not to set things on fire while settling into the knowledge of who I was now. Zanta was assigned to help me through the transition and to teach me about demon things. That was when I learned fire was the beginning of my changes. I was also faster, required less sleep, food, and water, and didn’t go to the bathroom as often.
During week two, and after I set the couch on fire, I decided to move in with the demons who had taken up residence in a large paddock behind what used to be a farmhouse. Sandy asked me to stay, but anxiety over what I might accidentally do next propelled me from the house. Once in my tent, I decided it was time to embrace what I was or spend an eternity wallowing in uncertainty.
It took a while, and three tents, before I learned to control my fire. During that time, many of the demons were patient with me, but my sort of boyfriend also found someone new, and who could blame him?
He hadn’t signed on for the “immortal demon who could sometimes burn things” aspect of a relationship. And what kind of relationship could it possibly be when he was growing older and I was going to look like a twenty-three-year-old forever?
Once I stopped feeling sorry for myself and grieving the things I’d lost, I decided to embrace the things I’d gained. I still stumbled along the way, and there were times when I contemplated running away and burying my head in the sand, but over time, I adjusted to the demon way of life.
But, no matter how well I fit in with the demons now, I was also part human and was raised as a human. I still had all the emotions that came with my humanity, but having feelings for a demon was an excellent way to get my heart broken.
Still, I couldn’t stop myself from resting my hand on Hawk’s thigh. His flesh was warm beneath my palm, and despite my exhaustion, I found myself reacting to him.
“Whose house is this?” I asked.
“Mine,” he said as he turned to look at me. There was a strange look in his beautiful eyes as they ran over me; it was almost one of awe. “Or it was mine anyway. I used to live here with Vargas and some other guys. Now, Vargas and Erin live here, and I crash here whenever I’m in town.”
“I’ll go—”
“No,” he interrupted harshly, but when he spoke again, his tone was calmer. “Please stay.”
I tried not to let it, but excitement flooded my veins as my pulse raced.
Damn it, donotget attached to a demon.
Suddenly, I became aware of my nudity in a way I hadn’t been in over a year. Scooting away from him, I slipped under the blanket and sighed when I sank further into the fluffy mattress. It wassomuch more comfortable than my small cot. I could sleep for a week in this bed.
I stared at the wall as my thoughts turned to Zanta and Sandy. They’d both been transferred to this area of the wall when I relocated. I hadn’t seen Zanta since she yelled for me on her way to the battle, but I hadn’t seen all the survivors. I tried to recall Sandy’s schedule. Was she on guard duty on the wall last night or was she at home and therefore more likely to have been on the field?
A lump clogged my throat. Sandy was my roommate, and the first friend I made when I first arrived at the wall. We were from different towns and didn’t know each other, but we volunteered on the same day and were assigned together. At sixteen, Sandy volunteered as soon as she could, but I’d waited until I was eighteen.
Still, we’d become friends, and even after I moved in with the demons, we spent most of our days together and were nearly inseparable. After learning what I was, she hadn’t feared me or shunned me as some of the other humans did. She was the best friend I ever had, and I couldn’t leave her body with the dead on the field.
And Zanta had been my lifeline during the most confusing and challenging time of my life. She’d guided me as she taught me how to control my newfound capabilities. She never judged me, never forced me to do anything I wasn’t ready for, and never treated me like my half-human status made me lesser like some of the other demons did.
They both had to be alive, but I knew the odds of that weren’t good.
As if sensing my distress, Hawk enclosed his arms around me and settled against my back. I shouldn’t allow myself to take comfort in his strong embrace, but I was too tired to resist him. Tomorrow I would worry about protecting my heart, but today I would accept this small bit of comfort in a far from comforting world.
Chapter Twelve
Aisling
The smell of cooking bacon woke me sometime later. Opening my eyes, I blinked as I tried to figure out where I was and what was happening? Was I home? Was that my mom in the kitchen?
For a minute, I found myself back to a time when I woke every morning to my mom humming in the kitchen while the tantalizing scent of food filled the air. I never used an alarm clock; my stomach always woke me.
A big fan of breakfast, my mom almost always had it ready by the time my dad and I made it downstairs. We’d sit together in the breakfast nook and eat whatever delicious concoction she made for us. We often talked for a bit before my mom read the paper while my dad did the crossword, and I propped open a book.
Then the war happened and so much changed. My mom still cooked for us, but instead of racing my dad downstairs for the best piece of bacon, we were often coming through the door after spending the morning hunting.
