The First Book of Demons (The Book of Demons Saga)

The First Book Of Demons

By
Raquel Dove

Copyright 2012
Raquel Dove

Blue skin.  The flash of a blade.  Blood everywhere.  Anguished charcoal eyes.

The pain was nearly unbearable as it pounded on the back of Alexandra’s forehead.  She cracked her eyes open, a dull ache gripping her body.  She rolled over in her bed hugging her pillow to her chest.  Her alarm clocked screeched from the side of her bed and a slender porcelain hand darted out from the feather comforter to slap the machine back to silence.  She was going to need at least two more snoozes before getting up this morning

Thirty minutes late, as usual, Alexandra came down the stairs in search of breakfast.  Her long black hair was piled haphazardly atop her head, loosely secured with a ponytail holder.   Wide green eyes that normally sparkled with excitement were dull and half lidded.    She had sacrificed her shower time for a few extra snoozes, so not only was she tired and achy, but she was a little stinky too. 

“Good Morning,” Aunt Tamaya said with a broad smile as she looked up from the hot pan in front of her.  The smile faded from her face when she saw Alexandra’s unusually bedraggled appearance. 

“Morning Aunt Tamy,” Alex said
, her eyes avoiding Tamaya.  She slid onto a bar stool at the kitchen island and reached for a freshly washed strawberry from a pile on a plate. 

“How did you sleep?”
Aunt Tamaya asked.  The same question she asked Alex every morning.  Tamaya was one part Native American, and all parts superstitious.  Dreams held great significance to her, and bad ones were bad omens.  Alex hesitated to answer, knowing the discussion that would follow.  Her gaze trailed around the kitchen, looking for an escape.

“Alex,” Tamaya said, pausing her stirring to give a stern look at the girl she had raised as her own.

“Horrible,” Alex admitted with a sigh, “I had a bad dream.  Woke up feeling like crap.” 

“What happened in the dream?” Tamaya asked, returning to her cooking, a frown on her aged face.

“Aunt Tamy,” Alex groaned, “Just let it go, please.”

“Alex,” Tamaya said again,  refusing to let the subject go.

“
Fine,” Alex sighed, her voice muffled by her downcast face, “It was really violent.  There was a really scary blue guy.  He had this weird, what looked like writing, all over his skin.  There was lots of blood,” Alex said, her brows furrowing at the recollection, “I just remember bits and peices…Someone died…but, it was just a stupid scary dream.”

“Lexi,” Tamaya said, her voice
carrying her concern, “I want you to stay home from school today.” She switched the stove off and moved the hot pan onto the marble countertop.

“I’m fine,
Aunt Tamy” Alex said, waving a hand as she grabbed a plate and began to pile it high with eggy chunks.  “It was just a bad dream.  Really, it’s not a big deal.”

“Alexandra,
” Tamaya persisted, placing a hand on her robust hips.

“
Aunt Tamy,” Alex said raising her brows in emphasis, “It was just a dream, and I can’t miss any more classes.”

Tamaya hesitated, watching Alexandra.
  She let out a heavy sigh, realizing Alexandra wasn’t going to relent.  The girl was almost an adult and she had learned to have a mind of her own, and a strong will to go with it.  It was just as well, Tamaya thought.  They were traits Alex would need if this dream meant what she thought it did.  There was only one way to be sure.  It was time for her to meet with an old friend.

“
I just remembered,” Tamaya said, looking at the clock above the kitchen sink, “I have an appointment.  I should get going.”

“You have an appointment? Today? For what?” Alex
asked.

“Its..
uh, I,” Tamaya stuttered, “Just have a dental cleaning.  I should be home when you get back from school.”

Alex
narrowed her eyes at her aunt.  Something fishy was going on, and Alex had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with her upcoming eighteenth birthday party.

“Ok,” Alex said
, not fully convinced Tamaya was being honest.

“
I want to have a little talk tonight,” Tamaya said coming around the counter to give Alex a hug.

“Ok,” Alex said again, waving her Aunt off, “I’m fine. Go!”

Alex continued her breakfast as she read over the already shuffled through newspaper.  It wasn’t long before she heard the hum of Sam Trevino’s brand new black mustang pull up in the driveway.  His parents had surprised him with it just two weeks earlier for his eighteenth birthday.  Alex had helped them pick it out, and insisted on black, knowing it was Sam’s favorite color.

“Wh
y am I not surprised?” Sam said as he came through the door and saw Alex, a forked clump of egg dangling before her mouth, her attention clearly lying far from her food.  They were going to be late for school, again.  Sam raised a perfectly groomed, but still unusually bushy eyebrow.  His black hair was perfectly tousled with copious amounts of hair products. 

“
I’m almost done,” Alex said, with a roll of her eyes, swallowing the last of her breakfast, and dabbing at her lips with a napkin.

“Where’s Aunt Tamy?” Sam asked, noticing her unusual absence.

“She said she had an appointment
.  She left just before you got here,” Alex replied pushing back from the counter and putting her empty plate in the sink.

“That’s weird,” Sam said
, following Alex out of the kitchen.

“Tell me about it.  She
’s been acting really weird lately” Alex said, holding the front door open for Sam and following him out.

The day crept by, uneventful and dreadfully boring as usual.  Alex didn’t have a great many friends at school.  She was more the kind of girl who had
lots of acquaintances.  Alex often felt like her and Sam occupied their own little bubble outside of everyone else they went to school with.  None of that really bothered Alex though.  It was a comfortable anonymity, and she liked it that way. 

Walking out the double doors at the end of the school day, and into the front courtyard
, Alexandra could see Sam waiting on the other side of the parking lot.  He leaned against the passenger side of his pride and joy, opening the door for Alex as she approached.

“I’m starving,” she said as she tossed her bag in the back, “
let’s get Chinese.”

“
Not Chinese,” Sam said, a whine in his voice, “we had it yesterday.”

“
But I want it again today,” Alex said, flashing Sam a toothy grin.  She knew he would relent, he always did. 

“
Alright,” he said, with a sigh.  It wasn’t so much the goofy smile Alex always used on him that made him give in.  It was the fact that once Alex had made up her mind, she always got her way and he had learned it was easier not to argue.   

Sam and Alex a
te at The Golden Panda on a weekly basis.  The hostess recognized them, and ushered them to their usual table at the back of the restaurant.  Settling into the worn red cushions of the booth, Sam noticed Alexandra’s face begin to flush with a light rosy hue.  She began to fidget with her top, running her fingers over her hair. Sam immediately knew what had happened. 

“Why don’t you go talk to him?” Sam said, knowing full well the response that was to follow.

“Yeah right,” Alex scoffed, her cheeks heating further at the mere thought of randomly approaching some hot guy.

Sam really didn’t understand this problem Alex had.  Any time a guy tried to talk to her she turned into a blubbering moron. 

“Just wait for him to go up to the buffet and when you see him reaching for something, smile and ask him to leave plenty for you.  Say it’s your favorite or something,” Sam said, leaning back and slinging an arm comfortably over the back of the booth. 

“You really think that will work?” she asked, her eyes darting away as the blo
nde haired Adonis looked in her direction.

“Yep,” Sam reassured her. 

Alex chewed lightly on her lip, mentally fighting with herself.  She wished she was the type of girl who could just walk fearlessly up to a guy and part a short time later with a phone number and a promise to call.  Unfortunately, anytime she tried, it ended in a miserable failure of pure heated embarrassment.

“Seriously,” Sam said, “Cause we won’t be able to eat until you do something about this.”

“Ok,” Alex said finally, sucking in a deep breath as she saw the guy getting up, “I’m gonna do it.”

Sam gave her a good luck
nod as she stood shakily from the table, adjusting her top again.  She made her way over to the rows of food, forcing positive thoughts through her mind.  She wiped her clammy palms on the front of her jeans. She could do this, she thought to herself.

Her pulse
quickened.  She cleared her throat as she rounded the corner of the buffet; she picked up a plate from the still warm, newly cleaned pile.  She saw the guy reaching for the tongs of the Orange Chicken, and she picked up her pace, closing in on her prey.

“Hey that’s my fav
…,” she managed to blurt out, just as her right foot caught on a bump in the tile floor and she face planted.  Hard.  The plate in her hand clanged loudly as it went tumbling across the floor, attracting the attention of the entire restaurant.

“Y
ou ok?” the source of Alexandra’s utter humiliation kindly asked her, as he extended a hand to help her up. 

She opened her mouth to say something and then promptly shut it, her entire face painted fire engine red as she
accepted the hand up and brushed herself off.  She turned away without another word to the guy and shuffled back to her table where Sam was shaking uncontrollably, a hand over his mouth as he tried to contain his amusement.

“This is your fault,” she accused him, her face still burning. 

“No, I think it’s your own clumsiness,” Sam laughed.

“Can we just get the hell out of here, please?” Alex had los
t her appetite at the whole embarrassing incident.

The two friends made it back to Sam’s house rather late, after picking a
nother restaurant free of handsome patrons.  It truly baffled Sam how poorly Alex seemed to get on with the opposite sex, himself excluded. 

“Let me call Aunt
Tamy and let her know what’s up.  You know how she worries,” Alex said walking out of the room to get the phone.  She came back into the living room a short moment later with the phone still in her hand.

“Sh
e didn’t answer. That’s so weird,” she said, plopping back down on the couch next to Sam. 

“I will not
take an Asuri as a mate,” Balthazar said, his broad shoulders straightening.

“
Son,” Sultan Sami said, calmly rising from his thick silk cushion.  His first born son, and crown prince of his kingdom stood defiantly before him.  “You do not have a say in the matter.”

“Asuri are not fit for our kingdom,” the young prince scoffed, brushing a strand of his dark hair
behind a pointed ear.

“The Devas and the Asuri have been allies for millennia,
Balthazar,” Sami said, fighting the urge to sigh.  He was tired and the thought of a fight with Balthazar made him grow weary.

“A useless alliance
, father,” Balthazar said, his chiseled jaw tensing. “We need not pander to their desires.”

“We cannot afford
to risk a war with Asur,” Sami said, his voice rising. “We are not strong enough.”

“So you bow to his will?” Balthazar sp
at, his words burning like acid as he barred his teeth.

“I bow to necessity,” Sami
growled, his eyes hardening, “Something you must learn to do.”

“She is blue,” Balthaz
ar said, still not willing to give up his fight.

“Then you will learn to like that,” Sami countered.

“I will not
mate her,” Balthazar said, turning to leave.  A fierce growl ripped through the room, stopping the young prince in his tracks.

“I may be your father, boy,”
Sami said, a growl echoing his words, “but disobey me as your Lord Sultan and I will not be lenient.”

Balthazar left his father’s presence without another word
.  Lord Sami let out a heavy sigh, as he settled back into his cushion shaking his head at his son’s headstrong behavior.  He had grown more and more disobedient as of late.  Sami could sense the desire for power growing in his son’s heart, and it churned his stomach with worry.  He had learned firsthand the sacrifices that had to be made for that kind of power.

“My Lord,” Darius
, the Divan, said interrupting the Lord Sultan’s thoughts.  The short, balding man settled himself cross legged on a cushion opposite Lord Sami, pulling out a number of scrolls from the bag he always carried at his hip.  He began to unravel the first one, an official edict that needed final approval before being sent to the entire kingdom.

“Darius,”
Sami said.  He had a faraway look in his charcoal eyes, and though he was still young, the stress and worry of his Lordship were taking a heavy toll.

“My Lord?” Darius asked
, brows raised.

“Prince Balthazar is to mate
the Asuri Princess,” he said, standing from his cushion. “Send word to Lord Krishna immediately.  I am retiring for the evening.  We will deal with those in the morning.”

#

Banakim’s heart pounded heavily in his chest, as he considered his next move.  A breeze rippled across the expanse of empty earth that lay before the Devas Royal Palace, softly rattling the branches of the trees dotted around the palace walls.  Tiny bumps erupted on Banakim’s pale blue skin as the wind softly kissed it.  He clutched his ratted cloak tighter to his massive form as he hunched dejectedly over, waiting for the right moment to strike. 

Banakim surveyed the layout of the land before him.  The Ashetero Mountains stood tall and imposing in the distance beyond the massive Royal Palace complex.  It was those mountains that served as the nearly impassable border between Banakim’s homeland
Asur, and the Kingdom of Devas.  Banakim had braved the tumultuous trek through those mountains, facing wild creatures, extreme cold, and a weeklong hike that had left him nearly drained. 

  Banakim had always thought of himself as a good person, but he had weaknesses.  Gambling was a big one. 
He had racked up massive debts, which wasn’t all together unusual.  Only this time it was different.  His creditors demanded payment immediately.  If he couldn’t pay, his family would have to pay with their lives.  What he was about to do was going to make him very wealthy.  The wind stilled and a deafening silence fell upon the region.  It was time. 

Banakim brought the hood of his cloak over his hairless head and gathered what strength he had left.  Every race ha
d their own abilities.  Asuri were masters of stealth, capable of remaining practically invisible.  But the Devasi had an incredible sense of smell.  Banakim knew that even a trace of his scent would be caught on the breeze if the wind picked up again.  Any Devasi within nose shot would hone in on it and catch him before he had time to react.

Banakim focused all his efforts on hiding his scent as he made his way
into the Devasi Royal Palace.  The scrolled design of his ancestry that covered his blue skin burned golden hot but kept him well hidden.

Pulling a small crumpled piece of parchment f
rom a pocket within his cloak Banakim unfolded it, and studied the black markings for a moment.  He tucked the paper back into his cloak.  His strength was strained to a breaking point, and he was struggling to keep his scent and presence masked.  He would need to move quickly.

Banakim moved silently into the main foyer of the palace, the sight that greeted his eyes rooting him to the spot
; his concentration wavered.  Gold and rare white marble was everywhere.  Vaulted marble columns dotted the expansive corridor, holding up a carved wooden roof.  Large rectangular plates of solid gold hung throughout the room, each one sparkled with a hammered design of the Devas royal history, softly reflecting the dancing glow of the many candles that lit the area.

The decadence of a single gilded candle could have fed Banakim’s family for a year. 
The outrage of injustice churned in Banakim’s gut.  It wasn’t fair that the Devasi lived in such luxury while his people starved to death in squalor.  They were supposed to be allies, but the Devasi had long since turned their backs on his people. 

He
came to the gilded doors that hid his family’s safety, and his fortune.  A servant slept quietly beside the door.  Banakim reached out to open the heavy double doors.  A creak echoed through the halls of the Royal Palace.  The servant’s eyes fluttered open.  He sat up.  His head swiveled around him as he took in his surroundings. Banakim froze, struggling to keep his presence hidden.  His breath stuck, and droplets of sweat beaded on his forehead.  The servant shifted positions, yawned lazily, and settled back to sleep.

Banakim slipped
past him into the bedchamber.  A feather stuffed mattress occupied the middle of the room, and a demon slept peacefully wrapped in the fine white silk that dressed the bed.  He inched closer, his padded sandals landing noiselessly on the hard marble floor.  Banakim drew his dagger. 

Standing over the unconscious man, he had a moment of hesitation.  This was wrong, he knew that.  But he had to save his famil
y, and this was the only way. He would have only one chance, and he would have to be precise.  If he did not deliver a fatal blow, the Devasi would make quick work of Banakim.  An injury to most parts of the body would merely slow a Devasi down.  A wound to the throat would be fatal in seconds.  He pressed the sharpened tip of his blade into the soft flesh of the neck and ran it across, leaving a thick red trail in its wake.   

Sami’s eyes popped open
.  Blood spewed from the gash in his neck, pooling on the bed underneath him and staining the white sheets a deep crimson.  His mouth flapped opened, trying to form words, but none would come.  The dying demon gave an undignified gurgle that Banakim was sure would stay burned in his memory forever, and lay still on the blood soaked bed.