Demons Forever (Peachville High Demons #6) (7 page)

The demon side of my ability was the opposite. Instead of feeling heavy and grounded, I needed to be light and weightless. I needed to connect to the invisible energy of the air around me. To become a part of it. To forget myself completely.

I breathed in and out, losing my sense of body. My sense of self. I became other. Something totally different from everything I thought I knew about myself before I came here.

Each time the transition began, a split second of panic seized me. A fear of the unknown, as if letting go in such an extreme way would mean the loss of who I was. Over the weeks of practice, I had struggled to give in to the panic and let it take me.

I opened my eyes just as my body transformed into white smoke and air. I flew up toward the ceiling, then spiraled down, transitioning back to my human form just before my feet hit the ground.

Piotrek threw a bolt of lightning at my newly reformed body and I shifted again, letting the heat of it pass through me as if I were nothing more than a ghost. I smiled. Finally we were getting somewhere.

"See? You're really becoming a pro at this," he said. "The more you practice, the faster you'll be able to switch forms. It will start to become second nature to you, I promise."

I leaned over, hands on my knees as I struggled to catch my breath. I hoped he was right. I knew deep in my heart that once it came down to a real fight, my ability to shift could very well mean the difference between life and death.

"Okay," I said. "One more time?"

I lifted my head to find the three guys had all grown tense, their faces turned toward the door.

I followed their stares, my heart leaping in my throat, nearly choking me. My father stepped into the room.

He wore all black, his silver eyes bright in contrast.

I'd never seen him down in this part of the castle before. To be honest, I'd barely seen him at all since that day in the throne room when he'd first come home from his search. He'd been gone a lot lately, and I'd started to think maybe he was avoiding me.

I wondered if he could hear my heart pounding in my chest.

"Sir," Piotrek said with a bow. "We weren't expecting you."

The king's boots echoed against the stone floor as he crossed to where we stood. "I got home earlier than expected," he said. "The skirmish in the outerlands is finally over. For now."

I swallowed hard as the king's eyes found my own. There was a hard edge to them that made my stomach twist. I looked away.

"Glad to hear it sir," Liroth said, then nervously cleared his throat.

Jackson came up behind me and put his hand on my shoulder. Normally, the solid warmth of his touch would have eased my nerves, but today it didn't really help.

Why had my father sought me out like this? Was something wrong?

An awkward silence hung in the air, everyone waiting to hear the king's intentions. It was too much for me. If I didn't say something, I was seriously going to explode.

"Did you need something?" I asked, my voice coming out colder than I intended. "We were just in the middle of an exercise."

The king cleared his throat and looked at me. "Actually, I'd like to spar with you," he said, bowing slightly. "If that's okay?"

My head snapped up. He'd definitely caught me by surprise. I tried to act cool and collected, but inside, my heart raced wildly. This was definitely a first. "Sure," I said. "No problem."

Piotrek moved toward the center of the room and got in starting position. "What should we try?" he asked. "We could-"

"I'm sorry, I didn't make myself clear," the king said. His voice was loud and carried easily through the training room. "I'd like to spar with Harper alone."

My breath caught in my chest. I wasn't ready for this. Was he trying to give me a heart attack?

He met my stare, and I looked away, biting my lower lip.

"I'm not sure I've had enough time to train for this." My throat had gone dry. "I'm not very good yet."

The king didn't respond. He simply raised an eyebrow and looked at the three other guys in the room, waiting for his order to be obeyed. Liroth bowed and walked toward the door. Piotrek threw me a sympathetic look, then followed.

Jackson didn't move. "I think I'll stay," he said.

If I hadn't been so nervous, I might have smiled. Jackson was always trying to protect me, even from my own father. As much as I wanted him to stay, I was also curious about why my father wanted to be alone with me. Was he finally ready to answer questions about my mother? About his life in Peachville? Or had he found something out about Gregory's disappearance? I needed to know.

"I'll be fine," I said, clearing my throat.

Jackson turned to me. "Are you sure?" he whispered. "Because I'll stay if you need me."

I squeezed his hand. "I'm sure," I said. "I'll meet you upstairs later?"

He nodded, glanced at the king one last time, then reluctantly left the room.

I tugged at the hem of my shirt and tapped my foot inside my shoe. The air between us was electric, filled with the buzz of a thousand unspoken questions.

I waited for him to speak, silence stretching out between us.

"Choose a weapon," he said finally.

I jerked my head up to meet his gaze, surprised. "A weapon?"

"Yes," he said, motioning to the back wall.

Along a series of pegs and stands on the back wall was a collection of weapons ranging from spears to knives to shields. I'd noticed them before, but I'd never actually used any of them.

"What for?"

I knew it was a stupid question, but it just sort of popped out of my mouth before I had a chance to sensor myself.

"For fighting," he said, smiling as he stepped back toward the wall. He looked over the selection carefully, then picked up a long spear with a very pointed silver tip.

I swallowed. Was he serious?

With nervous steps, I walked to the wall. There were so many different kinds of weapons to choose from. It looked like the stuff from fantasy novels or movies about medieval times. Long swords. Scythes. Shields made of iron. I didn't know the first thing about weapons like this, much less which one would be best in a duel against a spear.

"Choose any of them," he said. "There is no right or wrong answer here. It's all a learning process."

He sounded amused.

Meanwhile, I felt like I was going to pass out. There might not have been a right or wrong answer, but for some reason, I wanted him to see how hard I'd been working. I wanted to impress him.

And I hated that I felt that way.

I reached out and took hold of a medium-sized sword with a series of beautiful stones encrusted in the hilt. Something about it caught my eye and drew me toward it. I thought I would be able to hold the sword in one hand since it was much smaller than some of the longer ones up there. The moment I pulled it from its spot on the wall, however, it nearly fell to the floor. I hadn't expected it to be so heavy and the weight of it pulled me forward.

"A powerful choice," he said, eyeing me strangely.

Embarrassed, I pulled the sword up, this time with both hands clasped firmly around the hilt.

The king moved to the center of the training circle and assumed a fighting stance.

I joined him, hands trembling. "What are the rules?" I asked.

"No rules," he said. "Just stay alive."

I stared, wide-eyed. Stay alive? What kind of a rule was that? Was he actually going to try to kill me?

I didn't have time to question him. He stepped forward, his spear slicing through the space between us.

On instinct, I threw my sword out to block him, then jumped to the side. It wasn't my most graceful moment, but at least I wasn't dead.

"Still thinking like a human, I see."

Warmth flared up through my chest. Was that supposed to be some kind of insult? What exactly did he expect? As far as I knew, I'd been purely human my whole life. This demon princess thing was still kind of freaking me out, even after a month and a half.

We circled around the area like boxers in a ring, our eyes locked. I kept my sword out in front of me as I waited for him to strike again.

In a flash, he disappeared from sight, and I spun around wildly. Fear gripped my heart.

Where did he go?

A whoosh of air behind me. I couldn't turn fast enough. The tip of the spear pressed against my side, piercing the skin ever so slightly. The pain caused me to jump, my hand going to the wound.

When I pulled my hand back, red blood coated my fingers.

"What the hell?" I shouted, not really thinking about who I was talking to.

My father withdrew his spear and slapped the wooden end against the stone floor. "Don't complain," he said, his face stern. "You wanted to learn? So learn. Adapt."

My face grew hot with embarrassment. I was relatively new at this and he'd been alive for how many hundreds of years? How was I supposed to fight against a king?

"Again." He lifted his spear toward me.

Part of me wanted to give up, but could I really give him the satisfaction? With renewed determination, I met his gaze, sword ready.

I decided to be the one to strike first this time. I circled for a moment, then twirled and shifted to white smoke. I was surprised when the sword went with me so easily. As long as I was holding it in my hand, it became a part of my disappearing act.

Struggling to hold on to my concentration, I flew high then descended as quickly as I could, my sword pointed directly at the top of his shoulder.

A rush of disbelief pushed through me as I grew closer to him. He didn't move. I was actually going to hit him. Then, at the last second, he shifted and was behind me, forcing me to the ground. He wedged his weapon behind my neck, trapping me at a strange and painful angle.

Tears of anger threatened to come to the surface. Why was he doing this?

"Get up," he said. He withdrew his spear and stepped back.

I didn't want to get up. I wanted to disappear forever.

I gritted my teeth and stood, searching for the strength of will to turn and face him. I would not let him see me cry.

A wisp of white smoke appeared in front of me and I turned before he shifted back. I wasn't ready. Not yet. I swiped at my eyes, then placed both hands back on the jeweled hilt of my sword. "Okay," I said, facing him.

With a roar, he pivoted, spear slicing through the air toward me. I shifted into my demon form as the tip of his weapon reached the spot where my arm had just been. I whooshed around toward his back and attempted to strike him, but he recovered too fast and blocked me. Our weapons clashed against each other and he pushed me backward. My back hit the stone wall, and I winced.

I glared at him, but he smirked as if this was all just a game.

"The problem is speed," he said. "You have to learn to let go of your human body and embrace the demon side. Shifting into a shadow is like forgetting yourself. Stop trying so hard. Just let go. The faster you learn to switch between them, the stronger you'll be."

Sweat gathered at the nape of my neck. The sword weighed heavy in my hands. My jaw tensed as he lifted his spear again and disappeared in a cloud of white.

I heard a rush of air behind me and let go of my body. I shifted into nothingness. I flew in a figure-eight, swirling around him just as he took solid form. I reformed beside him and swung the large sword toward his legs. He jumped, my weapon barely missing him. Before I could recover, his spear came down hard beside my foot.

"Better," he said.

Better, but not good enough. I knew that if he'd wanted to, he could have killed me half a dozen times already.

Frustrated, I stood up and stepped back. I suddenly wanted to beat him. I wanted him to know he couldn't avoid me for weeks on end and then waltz in here like nothing was wrong.

He moved to pick up his spear and I attacked. I surged forward, half-human, half-demon, sword raised. The tip of my weapon slid across the flesh of his arm as I flew past. Triumphant, I stopped and turned back to see his expression.

Only, he was gone.

I turned my head from side-to-side, searching for him. Energy hummed above my head and I looked up as he descended from above. From the tips of his fingers, coils of demon smoke extended, then wrapped around my body like ropes. I dropped my sword and struggled against the bindings.

Humiliation and fury ripped through me. I couldn't do this. "Fine, I'm not good enough," I said. "Are you happy now? Just let me go."

The king stepped in front of me, eyes meeting mine. "That's truly what you believe, isn't it?" he asked. "So, what? You're just going to give up?"

The fears and frustrations of the past couple months fell upon my shoulders like a shroud. When I'd first come here, he'd promised to answer all my questions.

Later
.

But instead of opening up to me, he'd grown more and more distant. As time stretched on, he seemed to find new excuses for staying away. I knew his search for Gregory and for information about the Order's plans was important, but wasn't I important too? Couldn't he set aside even one or two hours of non-fighting time to hang out with me?

I had completely lost my patience.

I drew into myself, bending over and pulling my arms tight to my chest. With one swift and powerful movement, I raised up. The vaporous rope that held me broke apart, and I was free. Blue flames roared on the tips of my fingers. I pushed my palms out toward where my father stood and flames flashed across the floor, rising up to trap him inside a cage made of fire.

I staggered backward, gasping for air. I'd manipulated fire with my witch's magic before, but this was different. I had no idea I could do something like that with my demon magic. I dropped my hands and the fire dissipated. I stared down at them, trembling.

My father crossed the room and waited until I lifted my eyes to his.

"Everything you think you are. Everything you believe you're capable of," he said, his eyes dancing with life. "You've just barely scratched the surface."

Where We're Headed

A cool evening breeze blew my hair back off my shoulders.