Satan's Stone by H.M. Ward

door.
    Apryl was standing there, though I didn’t see her enter. She wore a wool dress with a pair of black boots that came up to her thighs. Dark hair fell down her back in a shiny sheet. Was Kreturus controlling her? There was no way to know. An eyebrow arched as Apryl walked toward me, throwing down a brown paper bag onto the floor. It tilted sideways and the contents spilled onto the floor. Apryl ignored the bag and continued to walk toward me with a strange expression on her face.
    When she was a couple of steps away, I turned sharply. “What?” I growled.
    Apryl stopped and shook her head. “Look at your hands. They’re covered in blood. And that one looks broken.” I gazed at my fists. My hands were still balled tightly, and she was right. They were bright red and slick. Streamers of blood wrapped around my wrists and dripped onto the floor. My left hand had a bone poking through the skin. I opened my hands, flexing the muscles. Apryl sighed and walked back toward the bag and grabbed a bottle of water. She twisted the cap off and turned back to me. As she walked, she scolded, “You can’t beat the shit out of poles. If Kreturus showed up now… ”
    My hands bunched back into fists as I growled, “If he showed up now, I’d kill him.” The anger wasn’t spent. I could still feel it in muscles, burning with a bright ferocity that was difficult to suppress.
    Apryl paused for a moment and then stepped toward me. She gestured for me to extend my hands and poured the water over them. The blood turned pink and spilled to the pavement in a splatter, and splashed onto my bare feet. She turned away and grabbed paper towels and tossed them to me. “ Here. Clean up. I got you some shoes too.” She tossed them at me. It was a pair of black Chucks. I nodded thanks, cleaned up and slid the shoes onto my cold feet. “It’s not anger, ya know.”
    Her words made my head jerk up as I tied the second shoe. “Then what is it?”
    She walked over to where I sat. The wet, bloodstained cement was in front of us. She pushed the brown paper bag toward me. It scraped across the pavement making a noise that made my skin crawl. I peered inside. There were snacks and a tray of Chinese food. The tray had condensation sticking to the lid. It was still hot. I picked it up and ate as she spoke.
    “Thought you’d be hungry. Didn’t know what you’d want, so there’s a bunch of stuff in there.” I nodded thanks, and she continued. “Anger is something that you can control. But that burning intensity that feels like anger, it’s really something else. Only the strong have it, and even very few of them get it. I thought it had to do with age, or the demon that made you. You know, the older the Valefar, the purer the content of demon blood. That in turn would make a stronger Valefar… but with you,” she arched her eyebrow, “I’m not so sure.”
    I shoved a piece of broccoli in my mouth. “If it’s not anger, what is it? You still didn’t tell me.”
    She hesitated. “I didn’t tell you, because it may not be the same for you. If you really are a half-breed,” I looked up at her unamused , and she smiled sheepishly, “or whatever you want to call it—then it might affect you differently. Anger is an emotion—it’s a reaction to a stimulus that upset you. Anger is a defense mechanism, and helps your body prepare to fight. Well, demon blood works in a similar way. It’s called Akayleah . It’s like anger in that it manifests in response to a stimulus, but it’s unlike anger in that you cannot control it.”
    Her words strung questions together in my head. I put down the tray of food and grabbed a can of Coke. As I pressed the metal tab the can hissed opened. “But everyone is telling me that I can control it. They also thought it was anger.” I shook my head. “This doesn’t make sense, Apryl.”
    Her eyebrows shot up as her shoulders shot back. Her jaw hung open for a spilt second before she spoke. Her voice was