ILSA
Days had passed, then a week.
Why did I think she’d come back?
Ray had found her calling, yet I was still waiting for mine. I had found it until the shrapnel had damaged the nerves in my leg, leaving me with a choice—medical discharge or an office role. Working in an office would feel like a punishment, although the consequent eviction from my family felt the same. But that outcome wasn’t exactly a surprise to me.
Die on the field or retire with respect.
Walking into Emrick’s club had felt exactly like that—if I were to die, it would be with Ray in battle, and if we succeeded, we could retire with respect. Instead, she moved on to her own missions, and I was left in the same hole I was in before I found her.
The room was dark as my computer booted up, and I flicked my fingers across the mouse impatiently waiting for it to start, and then waiting again as it connected to the unreliable Wi-Fi.
Waiting longer for the blog to load.
She’d replied.
The woman I had messaged all those weeks ago, asking for details on where the demon she worked with was located. It felt like another lifetime before I had been tangled up with a demon. Now trying to remember the world I thought I knew before the revelation of her existence seemed like an impossibility.
I can’t give you that information. If I mention on here where I worked and someone tries to go after him, how do I know he wouldn’t then come after me? I’ve left the city now, but who knows how far their network reaches. It’s not worth the risk to give you the business name. I’m sorry.
Her answer didn’t surprise me. Of course, she’d be scared if she’d done the same research I had. She had a boyfriend, therefore something to lose. Whereas I was only on the search for another mission, my next duty. Somewhere to aim my anger and skills at and someone who needed help.
Instead, I found Ray.
Shaking my head of her, I kept reading.
But I can tell you this. Look toward the richest of the rich in the city—those who appeared out of nowhere and rose to the top.
I’m sure her final words on the topic were intended as friendly, but for some reason, they left me with a sense of foreboding.
Good luck.
Good luck, indeed. I’d need the luck if I were to go after another demon.
Tilting my chair back, I stared at the ceiling. Is that what I was going to do? Go after these other reported demons?
And then what?
Would I kill them? I certainly hadn’t been pushed that far with Ray.
If all demons are bound by these rules of not killing, why was I fighting them? They’d apparently worked their way deeper into our lives than I could’ve imagined. In crime, of course, wandering the streets doing what they pleased. In townhouses, in penthouse apartments, in corporations, and in the army. Hell, they were probably in the police force as well. Why not?
Because how far did this go?
And what would happen to me if I exposed myself as knowing about them?
All I was left with was a whole bunch of questions and no answers. I had no direction anymore. Nothing after my discharge felt worthy, and even less so now. I simply couldn’t imagine myself going into some nine-to-five job after all this.
Fuck.
Slamming the laptop closed, I stood, the chair sliding out from under me and hitting the wall. Pacing for a while, I stopped in front of the window, looking out over the city as the sun set behind the apartment buildings stretching out into the distance. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I allowed my posture to slump. It was rare I was comfortable as such. I was almost always on edge, but I hadn’t felt this lost before. Not once in my life have I not known where I was headed or had a goal and not achieved it. Now, I had no direction, and nothing to strive toward that seemed satisfying to me.
I had nothing.
Do I become some sort of demon bounty hunter? It was hard to imagine. Perhaps I could have before I discovered beyond their nature they had actual personalities—needs and wants, and they knew right from wrong. But even demons were too human to me now, so much so I could barely separate the two in my mind. Because when I thought of demons, all I pictured in my mind was Ray, not some cartoonish image of a red being with hooves and horns.
Although she would look cute in a little headband with horns.
I wondered what Ray was doing now and if she thought of me at all.
Cursing, I turned away from the window. Why should I give a fuck what she thought or was feeling? She obviously didn’t about me. She’d found her niche, her place in this world, and I was happy for her. Sort of.
I guess I simply hadn’t considered that between the two of us—human and demon—I’d be the one left out of place on Earth.
Several times since she’d been gone, I’d considered drinking myself into slumber, and so far, I had resisted. My body is a temple and all that shit—I liked to look after myself. But more than ever, my thoughts tortured me, mingling with those memories from my deployments and recent past. All the worst images and emotions came to the surface because I was left alone with my mind, faced with the potential of a lifetime of this feeling of unworthiness.
Snatching a bottle of bourbon off the counter, I stomped toward the bedroom.
Fuck it! I was going to bed.
And one way or another, I was going to fucking sleep.