Lure of a Demon

“Ray, these people, they aren’t going to take this forever. They might come after you.”

“But—”

Screaming, I dropped to my knees and fell forward. Reaching behind me, I was desperate to remove the metal stake that had been plunged into my lower back.

“Ray!”

Concern in her voice?

What the fuck?

Some pain, even for me, was hard to ignore, and I felt my skin surging and shifting as my demon filled with rage at the attack. Snarling, my shoulder blades cracked and shifted as I bent my arm back, twisting my elbow on a third joint that didn’t exist in humans, and managed to grab the stake. It was slippery with my blood, and my hand kept sliding away as I tried to remove it.

I needed it gone, so I could heal. It was steel, and the wound would take care of itself in a matter of minutes if I could only get the fucking thing out.

Turning at the sounds of struggle, I watched as Ilsa forced the man who attacked me to his knees, her arm wrapped around his neck from behind in a chokehold and his fingers scrambling uselessly against her arm as he weakened. When he stopped fighting, she gave him another shake to be sure he was unconscious before rushing to my side.

Ilsa, so composed and well-trained, was flapping about as though she had never seen a wound before. I could read her. She wasn’t hesitating because she didn’t know how to deal with the wound, she was battling internally because she didn’t know if she wanted to save me. Or if she should.

“Stop thinking about this. You’ve already taken a man down to help me.” At my words, she cast a glance at the unconscious man on the floor, her eyes wide. “Just help me, I can’t reach it.”

“We need to get you to a hospital,” she said.

“No hospital,” I forced the words through gritted teeth. “Just get this fucking thing out of me.”

With both hands and a better grip, she was able to slide the stake from me. The suction sound of flesh as the wound sealed while it was removed had my shoulders slumping with relief. Hearing it clank as it hit the ground, Ilsa moved around until she was kneeling in front of me, her hands hovering around as though she was afraid to touch me. My shoulders were rolling, the muscles begging to turn into my demon form, but I kept it under control.

Barely.

Twitching, I waited a moment, and she simply watched me.

When the wound had healed, I raised my eyes to hers. She was frowning, but when she saw my expression clearly, she stood and took a step away from me. Did she think I’d attack her after she helped me?

Bit of a fucked-up opinion of me, but okay, I get it. I was a demon, after all.

“You helped me,” I said, pushing myself to my feet.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I’m… I’m not really sure. He attacked you when your back was turned.”

I smirked. “Well, yeah, but I had just beat the fuck out of their entire boy band. I kind of deserved it.”

She was rubbing her arm. “Probably.”

“So, this brings me back to the same question. Why?”

“I don’t know, all right? Fuck,” she muttered. “Look, I’ve done you a favor now so can you just stop all this shit already?”

She was so odd.

“Why do you care so much?”

Continuing to rub her arm, she still stared hard at me, although I could tell she wanted to look away. “Look, I kind of get why you’re doing what you’re doing, but I still don’t think it’s your call to make. I think it would be better if you just stopped.”

“If you want to protect those who are innocent, why aren’t you helping me?”

Ilsa glared at me. “Because there’s a right and a wrong way, and whatever the justice system may be, there are still good cops out there. I can turn these places in, and they can take them down the right way.”

“Oh, please, you think the cops don’t know these places are here?”

I was hitting her with a lot of uncomfortable questions. I knew that, but she needed to face the truth—her system was corrupt and useless, and my system was, well, corrupt too, but also very effective. Her conscience was holding her back, some misguided view of right and wrong and how the world should work even though, especially here, it very clearly didn’t work like that anymore.

I’m not sure it ever did. History has been littered with people doing the wrong thing, people from all walks of life, and in all careers and levels of power. I’d know, since I came across many of them when they reached my world.

My methods may not stop them, may not be the answer to single-handedly bringing crime down in the city, but it sure as hell would slow them down.

“Ilsa…” I kept my voice gentle as I approached her like she was an animal that might spook. “This has been fun, but you don’t need to keep playing this game with me.” She opened her mouth to answer, but no words came out. “If you miss me, you can keep showing up at these places, and we can do this again, but otherwise, I think you need to accept you’re clearly not going to do anything one way or the other and just back off.”

Anger flared in her eyes, followed by a tiny flicker of doubt. “Stop doing what you’re doing, Ray, or I’ll give the cops the info I have on you.”

It was hard not to smile. “That’s hardly a threat to me, and you know that.” She lifted a shoulder, and I spoke before she had a chance, “Chose a side, Ilsa. Either you want to stop me, or you don’t. While I love messing with you, even I’ll lose interest in this game eventually.”

“You seem to have some level of compassion, and for that reason, I don’t want to see you die. I feel like you’re a misguided missile, pointing your energies in the wrong direction.”

“So…” I said, closing the gap between us and reveling in her sharp intake of breath, “… you better stay out of my way then.”

ILSA

“Do you want to wash your hands before I burn this place down?”

Snapped out of my thoughts, I looked at my palms, slick with Ray’s blood from removing the steel stake from her body. I never got used to the feel of blood on my hands and rubbing my fingers together, I never wanted to be the sort of person who did get used to it. I’d seen my fair share of it, probably more than my fair share, but people who were in professions that dealt with it day in and day out—doctors and paramedics and nurses—Christ, I don’t think I’d have it in me.

Sometimes the sniper was easier.

Part of me wanted to tell Ray not to burn this place down, but there was another part of me lingering underneath and occasionally reminding me it was there. The feeling had a name—resignation. I couldn’t stop her from burning this place down any more than I could stop innocent people from being killed, or that I could convince myself every time I pulled the trigger it would be the one that made a difference and saved the world.

Mostly it saved a handful of people and mostly that was enough.

Searching her face, she was watching me intently, trying to figure out the inner workings of my mind by simply staring. What was Ray to me? I was starting to fear she simply represented something beyond what she physically was. Maybe to me she was an embodiment of destructive forces that took innocent lives with them as they went.

Except this time, I had fooled myself into thinking I could stop them.

Without her, I’d have to find something else to focus on.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Let me wash up.”