the crumbling sidewalk. I don’t like being pathetic, but I hate killing more. Yet, I have the gift. I can see the demons. What is my purpose if not to kill them?
Jag sidles up next to me and crouches down. “I think he’s leading us into a trap. What better way to get rid of a bunch of demon hunters? Or better yet, take over.”
“Dude. That’s ridiculous.”
“I know he wants my spot as leader. I feel it deep in my bones. I’m not going to hand it over easily, and I’m certainly not going to just lay down and die so he can take it.” He shakes his head, watching and waiting, his mouth in a thin, grim line. “I still haven’t figured him out, but I’m not going to trust him until I do.”
“You’re the one who brought us here. What did you think would happen? This is the worst idea you’ve ever had. This is the worst part of town. And you know why. It’s not just the demons that live here.” I shake my head, tired of this paranoia where Bret is concerned.
Jag doesn’t have a chance to answer as Bret motions us forward.
“There,” Bret says, pointing down the block to an alley on the opposite side of the street. A huge garbage bin is turned on its side, and garbage is strewn all over the ground. No one will ever come here to clean it up. There’s movement in the alley behind the bin.
“This is it,” Bret whispers. “Wait for my sign.” And with that, he darts down the street. Jag isn’t about to be left behind.
Indecision burns in my chest, but I don’t have time to be wishy-washy. I pull my pack tighter and follow behind Doug and Owen, who are already halfway across the street. Sweat beads along my forehead, and I feel it dripping down my back. This is so stupid. We shouldn’t be here. My heart races. Hyperventilation isn’t far behind. What am I doing?
Bret vaults over the garbage bin and disappears into the alley. Within a millisecond, I hear the wretched screeches of the damned as he dispatches them to hell where they belong… unless he’s using his magic knife. Then they’ll be dead forever.
Curiosity gets the better of me, and I can’t not see what’s happening. I crouch-run up to the dumpster where Doug and Owen hide, watching wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the incredible display.
Bret is a whirlwind of fury, slashing and stabbing, running up the sides of the building—crouching tiger style—and then doing backflips off, to stay out of the way of the demons while he systematically kills them. Even Jag just stands there agog, staring and speechless, his dagger hanging loosely in his fingers.
“I’ve never seen anything like this.” I’m not speaking to anyone in particular. Just talking out loud. For whatever reason, there are over a hundred demons in the alley, crouched and hiding in the darkest corners as though they knew we were coming for them. A few fight back, but most try to flee… unsuccessfully. Bret gets them all. Even a scratch from his dagger makes them disintegrate into dust.
“That, my friend, is the grace of God.” Owen glances at me, his face filled with the same kind of wonder as my own. But his expression is also filled with admiration and maybe even a touch of envy.
“That knife… we need that knife,” Jag says.
It’s over quickly, and Bret is back out of the alley before I can even register it. Not one demon is left.
“Wha… what was that?” Jag sputters. “Who the hell are you?”
He has asked that question before, but Bret has never really answered it. He’s not human. He can’t be. No one in this world can fight like that. I’m starting to wonder if Jag is right. Maybe Bret is a demon… or an angel. Would a demon come here to kill other demons?
My mind keeps trying to piece the whole scene together, but there is no answer for this. I’ve never seen anything like it. Ever. None of us have.
“I’m just a guy who kills demons,” Bret says in a matter-of-fact tone, like it’s no big deal at all. Like he does this every
Jag sidles up next to me and crouches down. “I think he’s leading us into a trap. What better way to get rid of a bunch of demon hunters? Or better yet, take over.”
“Dude. That’s ridiculous.”
“I know he wants my spot as leader. I feel it deep in my bones. I’m not going to hand it over easily, and I’m certainly not going to just lay down and die so he can take it.” He shakes his head, watching and waiting, his mouth in a thin, grim line. “I still haven’t figured him out, but I’m not going to trust him until I do.”
“You’re the one who brought us here. What did you think would happen? This is the worst idea you’ve ever had. This is the worst part of town. And you know why. It’s not just the demons that live here.” I shake my head, tired of this paranoia where Bret is concerned.
Jag doesn’t have a chance to answer as Bret motions us forward.
“There,” Bret says, pointing down the block to an alley on the opposite side of the street. A huge garbage bin is turned on its side, and garbage is strewn all over the ground. No one will ever come here to clean it up. There’s movement in the alley behind the bin.
“This is it,” Bret whispers. “Wait for my sign.” And with that, he darts down the street. Jag isn’t about to be left behind.
Indecision burns in my chest, but I don’t have time to be wishy-washy. I pull my pack tighter and follow behind Doug and Owen, who are already halfway across the street. Sweat beads along my forehead, and I feel it dripping down my back. This is so stupid. We shouldn’t be here. My heart races. Hyperventilation isn’t far behind. What am I doing?
Bret vaults over the garbage bin and disappears into the alley. Within a millisecond, I hear the wretched screeches of the damned as he dispatches them to hell where they belong… unless he’s using his magic knife. Then they’ll be dead forever.
Curiosity gets the better of me, and I can’t not see what’s happening. I crouch-run up to the dumpster where Doug and Owen hide, watching wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the incredible display.
Bret is a whirlwind of fury, slashing and stabbing, running up the sides of the building—crouching tiger style—and then doing backflips off, to stay out of the way of the demons while he systematically kills them. Even Jag just stands there agog, staring and speechless, his dagger hanging loosely in his fingers.
“I’ve never seen anything like this.” I’m not speaking to anyone in particular. Just talking out loud. For whatever reason, there are over a hundred demons in the alley, crouched and hiding in the darkest corners as though they knew we were coming for them. A few fight back, but most try to flee… unsuccessfully. Bret gets them all. Even a scratch from his dagger makes them disintegrate into dust.
“That, my friend, is the grace of God.” Owen glances at me, his face filled with the same kind of wonder as my own. But his expression is also filled with admiration and maybe even a touch of envy.
“That knife… we need that knife,” Jag says.
It’s over quickly, and Bret is back out of the alley before I can even register it. Not one demon is left.
“Wha… what was that?” Jag sputters. “Who the hell are you?”
He has asked that question before, but Bret has never really answered it. He’s not human. He can’t be. No one in this world can fight like that. I’m starting to wonder if Jag is right. Maybe Bret is a demon… or an angel. Would a demon come here to kill other demons?
My mind keeps trying to piece the whole scene together, but there is no answer for this. I’ve never seen anything like it. Ever. None of us have.
“I’m just a guy who kills demons,” Bret says in a matter-of-fact tone, like it’s no big deal at all. Like he does this every
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