Demon's Daughter: A Cursed Book (2 page)

Out of the tear came a skinny red monster. A Red, I called them. It was about six feet tall with a scrawny humanoid shape, but sexless with poreless, blood red flesh and vicious black claws on its hands and feet. Its thin, oily hair hung in wet strands around its head and in front of its ugly pointed ears. Its eyes were almond-shaped and pitch black, its lips peeled back in a savage snarl that revealed a row of serrated teeth. It sniffed the air through its slitted nose, then charged at me.

Reds were fast. Very fast. But so was I.

As soon as I saw the world open, I threw off my backpack and started reaching for one of the slim, throwing knives in my jacket. There was no point in running from the monster. Not when I knew I could kill it.

I ducked down as it swiped its claws at me, stabbing my knife into its stomach. The monster growled but didn’t act like it was really affected by the wound. I stabbed it again and again as quickly as I could, hoping to damage it before it could get a shot in at me, or get to Dro.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw it swing at me with its other hand. I pulled back and twisted out of range, the claws skidding along the back of my jacket. I dropped to the ground and kicked its legs out from under it, but the Red tucked and rolled instead of staying down.

I was trying to push up from my crouch when it pounced on me.

My back slammed against the ground, my head cracking on the pavement. I winced and stabbed the monster in the ribs over and over, until it dug its claws into my shoulders. I let out a cry of pain as the nasty talons punched into my flesh. The Red used the claws hooked in me to lift me up and slam my head back into the pavement. Then again. And again. And one more time just to make sure I would be bleeding.

The world spun around me, but I still tried to fight. The monster opened its jaws, rearing its head back to strike.

It froze when a sharp knife was shoved into the back of its throat. Dro stood behind the Red, twisting the blade with a disgusted look on her face as the monster bled thick, black blood. That sort of strike would have killed a human. But this thing was obviously not human, and my little sister had just made it angry.

The Red got off of me and raced for her, but I shot to my feet. I nearly collapsed from the wave of vertigo, but I would think about my possible concussion later. The monster had Dro pressed up against a wall. She had nowhere to run.

I clenched my fist around my knife and rammed it into the Red’s back, making it stiffen in pain. I kept stabbing as it whirled, throwing out its hand. I narrowly leaned away from the slap, but drove myself forward again and shoved my knife into its heart. I stabbed as fast as I could, twisting the knife until it finally went down.

By the time I delivered the last stab, my arm was almost numb. It throbbed with pain and was soaked in hot, sticky blood. Monster blood burned, but I had too much adrenaline coursing through me to really care.

Then the monster began to dissolve.

The chest caved inward, the way it does when someone stomps down on it. The skin turned black and crusty, breaking off like broken glass. Then it evaporated and blew away, like it had never existed at all.

There wouldn’t be any evidence, but that still didn’t tell me what the hell had just happened. I didn’t know of any monsters that turned into ash when they died. But at least I knew it was dead, and that was the only thing that really mattered to me.

I stood up and straightened my back, beginning to feel the full extent of my injuries. My head was swimming, the hairs at the back of my neck felt sticky, my shoulders were throbbing with pain from being clawed, and the demon blood was continuing to burn me.

Still, I’d had worse. Not that I counted this little encounter as a positive thing.

“You’re bleeding,” Dro said in a quiet voice across from me.

I looked at her, slowly sheathing my knife, trying to act like that simple movement wasn’t pure agony to my shoulders.

“I’ll be all right,” I rasped out, my breathing still heavy from the fight.

She took a tentative step closer to me. “I’m sorry, Constance. I was trying to get there sooner, but–” “You know the rules,” I told her. “Leave the fighting to me.”

Dro was tougher than she looked. She had to be, given the way we lived. But deep down she was just too gentle, never wanting to hurt anyone or anything. She wasn’t comfortable with a weapon in her fist or blood on her hands.

Not like I was.

Dro frowned and looked at my injuries again, taking another step toward me. She didn’t hesitate, reaching out and pulling away the collar of my shirt to see the wicked wounds on my skin. Her frown deepened and she gently touched the broken skin on my shoulder. Her hands began to glow a strange golden light, and she began to heal me.

There were many words a person could use to describe Dro. Special. Gifted. Strange. All of them were true, because she wasn’t human. I wanted to pretend she was, but it was impossible to do when she healed my injuries with a single touch. Or when she told me she could read other people’s thoughts if she concentrated enough. Or when she heard, smelled, or saw things way before I did. Or when she had the nightmares and burst into flame.

None of it changed my love for her, but it did scare me. More than I wanted to admit.

I winced as her magic worked on my damaged flesh. It didn’t exactly hurt, but it was uncomfortable. Like taking a dip in icy cold water and then immediately splashing into a hot bath. The pins and needles feeling sent a shock to my nerves and my brain saying something was wrong.

No shit, brain. Thanks for reminding me.

But doing this meant I could fight again, and Dro could feel like she had helped me when she hadn’t been strong enough to kill the monster herself.

She moved onto the back of my head and I couldn’t help but stiffen. It just felt so
wrong.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“It’s okay,” I told her, forcing my shoulders to drop and relax. “It just feels weird.”

Soon enough, Dro had finished healing my wounds. Aside from the dirt and bloodstains on my clothes, it was impossible to tell I’d had been in a fight. Even though she only had a few minor scratches, I made her heal herself. I’d been overly protective even when we were kids, and it had only gotten worse as we got older and our lives spiraled out of control. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for Dro. Nothing I wouldn’t steal, no law I wouldn’t break, no monster or man I wouldn’t kill.

I would burn the world to a cinder to save Dro.

After she healed and I’d concealed as much of the blood as I could, I rearranged the bag on my back and started walking out of the alley with my strange little sister behind me. The town was small and while the fire crews were on their way, it would take the sheriffs a few more minutes to get here.

More than enough time for me to steal a car and find somewhere else for us to run. When Dro had a nightmare, it meant monsters were close. I didn’t want to get into another fight if I could avoid it, even if they weren’t the things I feared the most.

The monsters scared me. The cartel and the federal Marshals hunting us scared me.

But Dro scared me more.

Chapter 2

We drove to Amarillo, which was only a fraction bigger than the last town we had been in. Amarillo was a sleepy place with some paranormal hunting groups, which was why Dro had suggested going there.

We spent the first day doing research. Dro went to the library and was checking out books while I waited in the car. I’d been ready to go in with her, but I was a wanted criminal. I couldn’t exactly go into a public building and hope I wouldn’t be recognized.

While I was waiting, I used the electronic tablet that had been in the car I’d stolen to read up on the Wanted lists on the U.S. Marshal website. A sketch of my angry face and a list of all my crimes were still posted there.

Aggravated assault. Drug trafficking. Breaking and entering. Assault with a deadly weapon. Aiding and abetting. Kidnapping. Possession of firearms. Theft of varying degrees. Arson. Manslaughter. First and second degree murder. Underneath the ever growing list was a note for a hefty reward of twenty-five thousand dollars for my capture.

I checked news sites to see what my old bosses, the
Espanis de Sangre
– the Blood Thorns– were up to. A shoot out with honest cops that left four officers dead, stripped of their skin with their badges nailed into their hearts. A bus full of children who were kidnapped, the boys forced to shoot their teachers and join the Thorns while the girls were raped and taken as sex slaves. The severed, veiled head of a rival gang leader’s newly wedded daughter on a bed of roses on his front porch.

So they’re having their typical Monday
, I thought bitterly.

Remembering the things I had done for them brought up bad, unwanted memories. I had never crossed the line into murdering children or brides, but I hadn’t skipped out on a role as a torturer either. I had more than my share of blood on my hands, innocent and not.

I got out of my self-loathing, focusing on monsters and mythology instead. I did a couple of image searches of the Red monster, but all I saw were pictures of a stereotypical red, horned devil. Nothing specific enough.

After about half an hour, I gave up on the monster search and starting looking for a description of a creature with the same powers that Dro had. I came up with nothing. Whatever she was, she might be the only one of her kind.

I’d known she wasn’t normal when I found her…

I had been four years old, and our family had been relaxing for the weekend at Owl Creek Park, a few miles northwest of Temple Texas. I had wandered from the campsite and heard a baby crying in the forest. I’d followed the noise, and found a pale baby screaming and crying in a patch of earth that smelled like rotten eggs.

Since I hadn’t been able to stand the heart-wrenching, tortured cries she’d been making, I had wrapped her up in my coat and soothed her as best as a four year old could, rocking her back and forth and even singing to her. She stopped crying, then opened up her big blue eyes and stared at me. Her pale, chubby hand reached up and batted against my chin.

That was something I still liked to tease her about; that the first thing she did when I took her in was cry and punch me.

I had always wanted a sister. I’d overheard my parents talk of wishing they could have another kid, but Mom couldn’t get pregnant again for some reason. So I had walked back to the camp and found them, holding a naked, pale baby in my jacket, and smiled like the lunatic I was.

“Mom, Dad, look! You can have a baby now! I can have a sister!”

My parents had wanted to give her back to her family, and not just for the obvious reasons. We were poor. Really poor. The rusted, hundred dollar camper and a trip to the RV Park was the most Dad could afford for a vacation. He had been a construction worker and Mom had worked two jobs. They worked at places that didn’t care about immigration status, or lack thereof, and stayed wary of cops.

We had come across the border when I was two, since Dad wanted to escape his employment as a drug runner in Mexico. If the cops had found out, they would have sent us back across the border, and we would have been worse off.

Bringing them Dro had been another burden they hadn’t needed. I was a handful as a kid, always causing trouble, but I couldn’t leave her there. Even as a four year old, I knew right from wrong. It was wrong to leave a crying baby out in the middle of the forest to starve or be eaten by wolves.

It took almost endless convincing and a minor tantrum, but when no one showed up to reclaim Dro, we decided to adopt her. Dad wouldn’t risk giving a baby up for adoption in case the authorities got wind of us being illegals. Needless to say, it wasn’t long before they loved her as much as I did.

I suggested the name Andromeda because I saw it in a book about constellations, something my teacher taught us in the first grade, which my parents managed to slip me into a year early. Andromeda was a Greek Princess who had been chained to a rock for a sea monster to eat because her mother, Queen Cassiopeia, had been mouthing off about Andromeda being more beautiful Poseidon’s water nymphs. The hero Perseus saved her, killed the sea monster, and together they lived happily ever after. I figured at least the first half of that story matched Dro’s appearance in the woods, and my parents had liked the ring of the name.

We always knew she was different, but we never knew how much until the weird things started happening. Like her knowing things about the neighbors. Healing my cuts and bruises with a single touch. Sensing things way before I could.

The horrible nightmares, which only got worse as she got older…

A gentle rap on the car window startled me and made me jump about a foot in the air. Dro was standing outside of the car, an awkward grin on her face. She walked around the car and got into the passenger’s seat next to me.

“You looked really intense just now,” Dro said, closing the car door. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “You just scared the crap out of me.”

She grinned. “I was trying to get your attention. Guess it worked.” Her grin faded a little. “You look tired. Do you want to get something to eat?”

I tilted my head at her. “Not sure that’s a good idea, little sister. We’re fugitives, remember?”

“Come on, when was the last time we had a good breakfast?” She was smiling at me. “I know you want an omelet and bacon.”

My stomach rumbled at the thought of food. We ate whatever we could whenever we could, but Dro was right. It had been a very long time since we’d eaten outside of a motel room or a stolen car.

“Come on, Connie,” Dro said, sensing my hesitation. “One quick breakfast at a cheap, greasy diner. We can pretend to be normal for once.”

Those were the magic words:
We can pretend to be normal for once.

My stomach grumbled again. It had been almost a year since I’d filled it with bacon.

“All right. But we follow the rules.”