Make Me: The World of Knott

3Jaide

Five Months Later

Rain hitagainst the cracked windshield in rattling thuds that almost drowned out the sound of the protesters on the other side of the square. Almost.

You would think, with how hard it was raining, the zealots wouldn’t have shown up today. Instead, they had grown in numbers even from the last time I had been there. The loyal worshipers of Healynas, the Fae God who had originally banished the Synians from our realm after epic battles. They were protesting against their archenemies, the Synians, probably hoping that Healynas, the Synian slayer, would return. None of them were Fae, they were just weirdos who started their own church because they hated Synians. That, or they would secretly like to be fucked by the tall, ethereal beings.

I was going to go with the fucking.

Their voices echoed off the stone walls as all the commuters who hurried by on the main street ignored them.

“The Demon Spawn Drinks Your Blood! Do Not Give Yourself to the Devil!” They chanted the phrase over and over, holding up signs I was sure they thought would scare people away.

I was having a hard time not laughing at them. Half of their signs had crude drawings of the Synian’s goddess, Lilith, on them. Lilith apparently had big boobs, pointed nipples, and bad breath. All of the others read more like something you would find at a supermarket checkout counter.

‘He told me he was an angel’ was printed over an image of one of the many Covenless the church group had swept away to their ‘addiction support center’ in the last few weeks. The gaunt woman stared into the camera, her face covered with bite marks. ‘Don’t have a demon's baby’ was boldly lettered over an image of a baby with painted-on red eyes and horns. Or my personal favorite, a sign that simply stated ‘The devil’s whores live here’ with pictures of women in lingerie, who again had pointy nipples.

Were pointy nipples really that big of a problem in Synian land? Not that I would know.

I guess that depended on how you looked at it. I wasn’t sure anyone lived there, at least not by choice. And I guess they were whores, if they got paid.

I wasn’t so sure about that anymore.

I squirmed in my seat, glancing from the religious zealots to the handwritten note that sat beside the wooden stake I brought each and every time I came and stared at the door, wondering if it would be the time I went in.

So far it hadn’t been.

‘Jaide, be good. Always be good. Never come here. I was wrong, there is nothing good here. I release you from your promise.’

The letter was clearly written in Jett’s handwriting, although the tears stains and the corner I had long since stopped trying to convince myself was covered in ketchup were a bit ominous.

Jett was in trouble.

He clearly thought himself some kind of God if he thought I was just going to give up on barging in there to save him.

Although, in a way, it had.

The note had come only six weeks after he stepped through that damn red door. The payments stopped ten weeks after that.

I had held out hope, half expecting him to show up at the door with back pay and his usual smile. But he never did, and slowly the money I had been putting away depleted into nothing.

And then came the explosion.

It happened somewhere inside of the Blood Auction complex of buildings. The blast was so loud you could hear and feel it all throughout Serai. Images of green fire and yellow smoke had been broadcast by every news channel and shared repeatedly on every social media site for days. And then suddenly there was nothing else. Like, nothing nothing. As though the explosion and any news around it had been wiped from existence.

Since then I came here every night to stare at the door, as though I was waiting for some goddamned sign it was time for me to bust it down.

Funny, seeing as I had no idea how to bust down doors, or even how to wield a wooden stake against Synians.

Could you stab them anywhere? Did it have to be in the heart? If I stabbed them in the dick would it have the same effect? How hard did you have to stab them? Can wood even stab a possibly undead monster with iron skin?

I had too many questions, no answers, and a severe lack of skill. Which was probably why I still sat here, glaring at the door like it was my own personal enemy.

My phone rang and I jumped so high the car rocked, causing all of the zealots to stare at me and send their chants my way again.

“You are loved. Protect your virtue!” Okay, that one hit a little hard.

Ignoring them, I grabbed my phone from the backseat that now housed my entire life after being evicted from my apartment last week, including the remains of my nest. The matted blankets were nothing like what they used to be. I had spent months getting everything just so, and now they were thrown into a corner like dirty laundry. Flipping the phone open, I threw my feet onto the cracked dash.