Demon's Alter-Ego Ch. 21-23

This is the edited chapters. It seems I missed the chapter that explains what happened to cause Shorn to bring Dove into his Darkness.

CHAPTER 21

The rain turned freezing the closer winter approached. I didn't have much time outside to feel it, but I got an earful at mealtimes when the outside guards came in. Many of them were volunteering cleaning duty just to get a brief spate of relief from it. I had been to three different safe houses and Miguel trimmed down how many I helped transitioned to one of his choice. Occasionally, he'd ask me to do two at a time.

I was getting better with practice, and I could generally get them out of the limbo stage within a couple days if I could focus without distraction. It wasn't to say it made it easy if anything it was harder on the hunters to be subject to something that fast and brutal. If anyone got in his face over any of his decisions, he'd take them outside where I couldn't hear. Sometimes forcefully with help.

Besides guard rotation, many things changed since that night Shorn stayed in the bed with me. Miguel was on his cell once a day speaking Spanish, I assumed with Carlos, all mirrors were removed within the houses, and Shauna finally got a power boost and left.

Oldavai went through a change as well. He shined a small hidden lock of my hair. It was barely noticeable and at first, I thought it was him when I saw the tiniest specks of golden glitter on the pillows. When I figured it out, I confronted him. He just grimaced and asked nicely for me to indulge him. Seeing me sprawled over Shorn had confused him and he did the only non-violent retaliation he could think of. I stared at him while I mulled it over, finally agreeing that he was showing incredible restraint since we both refused to have sex while in a house full of hunters.

The other change was more disturbing for both of us. My magic was getting out of control and Oldavai was on constant alert. He hid it well from the hunters, snapping me out of my trance, absorbing traces of power that would bounce around in him and back to me anyway, and taking a hit from emotions so it'd redirect itself away when I was too busy defending myself from the untethered magic. He even pushed more of his own into me when he felt the voices start to cajole me to take and take and take. Unfortunately, the thinnest streams of magic were getting past my shields from who Shorn called, the broken ones. Mentally I was exhausted, and I felt that I wasn't trying my hardest to shield. That I was letting the addiction get its hooks into me.

When he left to quickly recharge himself on an incubus hunt Gan watched me from the shadows. He got close twice, I burned him both times, the second time while he was in the shadows. I don't think he would have let that go if it wasn't for the fact that he believed I belonged to Shorn. I knew that, because he used those words when I apologized profusely to him one night while I was getting ready for sleep.

It unnerved me so much that I spat out, "Does Miguel belong to you?"

"Of course," he said matter of fact.

I grimaced but didn't correct him his belief that Shorn had any sort of hold over me. I wasn't sure it was in my best interest. I just retorted, "I wouldn't tell Miguel that."

His shadow face got close to mine, "Hunter, if we could do so without repercussions, we would chain you all to us."

I shivered from the magnitude of his belief enveloping me, "To use us as a power supply."

He moved back, "That wouldn't be the main reason."

"What's stopping you from trying?" My anger lashed out in disgust at his words.

Gan laughed and I knew it echoed through the bedroom walls. He transformed out of his shadow being and started to bring his fingers to my chin. I reacted quickly, shoving his hand away, not wanting him to touch me so intimately. I could feel the ice flow over the tips of my fingers, and I hastily put them behind me on the mattress. He didn't answer me, so I hastily spoke again, hoping to distract him from the frost I could feel spreading out on the comforter behind me.

"So?"

"Ask Oldavai if you're so curious."

I narrowed my eyes at him, "Go away."

He bowed his way into the shadows, "Be at ease, Dove. We never mean any harm."

"Tell that to my dead mother," I said as I pulled the blankets over me. I was cold in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature. They always believed that, but they never realized how much harm they did. If they violently harmed us when they were too young to understand I didn't see how that exonerated them. With that thought, I pushed those meanderings into their box and brought out my Zen to soothe me to sleep.

Conner followed us, but never followed through. His constant bickering came to a head before we left one of the safe houses and Miguel threw him out. It turned out there were a few who couldn't take that final step, willingly or even fighting. Some simply because it hurt their egos to know Miguel was better than them.

I watched Miguel's behaviors fluctuate between testosterone and pride to weariness of the fighting, whining, and rain. Even though I never asked him, I knew he was ready to go home, back to California. Throughout it all Ila never issued him a warrant, maybe she knew he was the one in charge here in Seattle. I wondered, if she did, was she doing it for every leader in the movement.

I had just started to sleep when Gan poked me in the ribs. "Go away," I grumbled.

He poked me again and I swatted the air. "Get out of the shadows so I can hit you properly," I mumbled into the pillow.

I felt the bed sag under his weight, and his molasses smell swamped me, "Come on, Dove. Patrick is here."

His name penetrated the fog and I groaned, "Does Miguel want me down there."

"No, in fact he wants you to hide."

That got my attention, and I sat up. "Why?" I yawned.

"Don't trust him."

"Well, he is a mercenary." I looked over to the shadow demon.

"You need to hide," he reiterated.

I perused his gravity of manner, "Do you think he has a contract for me?"

Gan shrugged, "Don't know. It's something we planned for though." I watched as he faded into the shadows.

"We who?" I asked the air. He poked me again, "My gods, stop it! I'm coming," and I followed him. He was a pair of glassy eyed blackness watching me as I stepped into his world of gray. I walked from shadow to shadow until I was down the stairs, listening to a conversation that had already started.

Patrick was nonchalantly scanning the room as he talked to Miguel about the transition. He looked at the hunters laid out in the beds and placed his hand on the back of the chair I sat on. His hair was still a spiked orange and contrasted with his black wardrobe of cargo pants and rain jacket. To their right a hunter went through a seizure and caused a flurry of activity. My eyes stayed glued to him as he rubbed the rim of the chair back and forth with his hand.

"Maybe I'll come back," he said out loud as he backed himself out the door.

Miguel looked up at us from holding down the hunter, as if he knew exactly where Gan was. I immediately followed Patrick out into the sunshine despite Gan shouting for me not to. We didn't know what magic he carried so I knew I was being reckless. He was clear of the guards by the time he detoured into a coffee shop. I continued filtering through the shadows behind him, not even pausing when he went into the bathroom and locked the door.

He pulled out a vial from his side pant pocket with his left hand, popped the cork, and deftly sprinkled a complete circle of salt around himself speaking an incantation. The shadows ripped and vibrated, and I felt myself pull apart in streams of steam. I grit my teeth and held on to my magic as I watched him rub the tips of his fingers on his right hand over his palm and flick the light off with his left. Even with the darkness strengthening the shadow magic I wanted to scream in pain as I felt parts of myself drifting away from each other. I watched him pour a liquid from another vial on his hand and was almost disintegrated when a bright golden light saturated his palm.

"Got you," was the last thing I heard before I was completely pushed out and stumbled into the light in the hallway outside the bathroom door.

"Shit," I whispered and crouched over as my muscles everywhere spasmed. The click of the lock disengaging was loud in my ears. I sucked in my breath, bracing myself for the pain of tight calves, and sprinted for the front door, startling people waiting for their morning coffee. I could almost imagine Patrick behind me, closing in. As soon as I stepped outside and turned a corner I tried to phase back into the shadows, but found my ability blocked. My fingers flickered and turned solid.

"Shit!" I ran farther, my bare feet pounding on the asphalt between the buildings.

Between my sprints I grabbed onto Iloum's power and slammed myself from one morning dream to the next until I found the nightmares of overdosing hunters. My control slipped and I stopped and spun in a circle. I saw all their dreamscapes at once as I turned, from ocean to burning houses to someone running through the woods. The spiders poured from me and covered them all, turning these nightmares into terror so fierce I screamed my own with them.

I crouched down, my abhorrence at myself vibrating in the air like a dozen punches to the body. I growled and sang to the tiny spirit spiders, calling them back into me. They came bringing with them hundreds of sips of terror that felt like a tidal wave of power washing over me.

My roar of anger and frustration let me rip myself out of the dream and drop myself onto the carpet. I stayed hunched over and listened to my haggard breathing. Around me was chaos. The four hunters were wide awake, the caretakers were trying to calm them. I prayed I didn't permanently scar them with Iloum's fear.

I swallowed and slowly lifted my head to seek the eyes I could feel weighing me down.

Oldavai and Gan stared down at me, both in their demon forms. Their stance unmoving and with so many emotions tripping over one another I couldn't pinpoint theirs. Trails of darkness seeped through the clenched fingers of Oldavai's fist, catching my attention. My head shot up to look at him. I was unable to hide my total dismay as I finally got a full scan of one emotion, pity. It covered me like slime.

A pair of hands appeared between the two of them and pushed so violently they had to sidestep. I had no illusions. Shorn would throw them through the walls if they didn't move. He stepped closer to me and looked down, two of his now six fingers thumping his thigh. His long black hair distracted me with its length and ability to hide his face from the others. He was completely unreadable to me except for those bleeding eyes.

Miguel was in my peripheral vision with his sword drawn and Gan was a streak of shadow behind the demon in front of me. I heard the abrupt slam of his body stopping Miguel.

"You want to live, you don't move." Gan's voice came out sticky like syrup, to coat everyone nearby. But for one whimper, the room's noise stilled at his words.

In the silence, Miguel spoke. "You're the one Carlos warned me about," his Hispanic accent heavier than it had ever been, "but the mirrors are all gone."

Shorn smiled and it creeped the hell out of me. I had no doubt the mirror was small and clenched in Oldavai's grip. Shorn put his hand out for me and I stared at it, not wanting to go to him. I couldn't feel anything from him and without having any idea what his intentions were I was weary of that outstretched hand. I looked to Oldavai for reassurance but received none.

His gravelly voice carried through the room, "Gan, move them out. Dove, please come with me." I looked back into Shorn's shining eyes and shuddered. They were glowing with more power than I had ever seen from him before. As I stared, I finally got a read on him, he was a cup filled to the brim, one drop away from letting it spill. I firmly believed I was the only lucky one he allowed to see it.

I heard Miguel angrily push Gan with, "Get out of my way." With those words I knew the other hunters would take their cue to come to his aid. The blood from Shorn's eyes immediately saturated his collar instead of soaking back into his face. His suit jacket rustled, and I knew without a doubt his form was changing. Lastly, that damn whip in his neck lashed out and snapped tight around it. He was getting angry.

No.

He was already there. A waiting breath away. Waiting to see if I would stop him before the bloodbath. The harsh pounding in my ears didn't matter as I jumped at the foremost option in my head.

"Miguel, no!" I shot up and grabbed Shorn's hand, hoping it was enough to save them all.

He curled his arms around me and tucked my body snug into his own. He finally turned those bloody eyes to Miguel, "Thank you for making this easier." My last sight was an extremely furious Miguel stopped in his tracks by Gan.

CHAPTER 22

We stepped into his Dark. And stilled. It was watching him, cognizant, its attention singly focused on Shorn. I could feel it more than I could feel the intentions of the demon behind me. This was beyond what happened when I was originally here. Then, it felt like a series of events to me. This, this was like another being in the same space, a subtle wind fluttering on my bare skin. And it waited to see what Shorn would do. I tampered down my nervousness as best I could, my eyes straining to see something, anything. Everything that had led me here was pushed into the background, the current situation in the forefront of my awareness.

In the black void he clutched me to him, his head bowed over mine. My breathing shallow and gasping as I fought to control my fear. His own, a slow puff of warm air felt and heard. His stance, solidly grounded behind me with a press of his thighs against the outside of mine. That hard body lined up against my back kept me from feeling alone despite my blindness. He cocooned us in his power.

My patience wore thin, much like it always does when I stay too long in fear without action. I rolled my shoulders and took a sharp inhale through my nose. The realization that there was no sulfuric smell shocked me. I wanted to speak but didn't dare disturb him. Slowly, so slowly, one of his hands moved up, following the contour of my arm muscles. I recited in my head. Elbow, bicep, deltoid, clavicle, throat, chin. He palmed my cheek, and my breath came out in a whoosh. And still we stayed in the dark. I felt his struggle to gain even more control over a power that I now realized was not necessarily just surrounding but pouring all over me. He was the Darkness and I think he was doing his best not to devour me.

Finally, I felt his chest move in a deep cleansing breath that washed over the top of my head. In front of me I watched amazed as his room constructed itself around us. One blink and it was complete and full of a light with no source. He stayed still, his hand on my cheek, his breathing never wavering from its steady cadence. I was limited by his restrictive hold and started to despise it the calmer I became.

I swallowed and churned up some courage, "Shorn?"

"Dove," he murmured.

"Please let me go."

He didn't move the band of his arms, "What if I don't want to?"

I wasn't going to be dissuaded, "You still can."

"Take care." He took another deep breath and slowed his voice to his breath, "I am distracting myself."

I hesitated briefly, but Shorn knew me by now, "From killing me?"

"No." A pause, "I need you to stay here and learn."

"From you?"

"Just stay here." The calmness of his tone belied the tightening of his arms.

I took a deep inhale, "Okay."

He spun me around and I gasped, my hands gripping his arm, his eyes still glowing a bright ruby color, "Say it."

"Okay," I repeated cautiously.

"No." He growled deep in his chest before speaking again, "Repeat, 'I am staying here until you allow me to leave'."

"I will stay here..." I hesitated and his chin angled down, forehead furrowed, black hair swinging forward. I puffed myself up with bravado and rolled my eyes, "I can't stay here forever, Shorn."

He snorted, "Darkness help me if that was the case."

I looked back at him and gave him a hesitant smile. His appearance had toned down, his eyes weren't burning power on me or thankfully, bleeding, his suit fit perfectly, and he had the tiniest uplift to the corners of his lips. I brought my hand up and he loosened his hold so I could cup his cheek, "You're only doing this for Ezra."

He mimicked me on the other side of my face, "That... is definitely a factor."

I dropped my hand and twirled, "So..."

When I was looking at him again a portal opened behind him, showing his office. He brushed his suit and adjusted his cuffs. I watched distractedly as the blood on his collar soaked back into his skin. My hand reached out to touch those immaculate white folds. In an instant he snapped it in both of his own. "The Dark will accommodate anything you need."

I raised an eyebrow at him, "Anything?"

"Anything, so be careful what you ask for," he said with finality. He pushed my hand down and turned. Before he stepped through the portal, he looked over his shoulder, "Practice, Dove." He stepped beyond the threshold of the portal, and it closed behind him.

I was at a loss, so I sat on the gray bed that I had been on previously and thought about what I needed. A bathroom. Definitely a bathroom. It appeared. I was a little freaked out about the plumbing, but figured I had to trust Shorn.

The day passed and I used it to berate myself repeatedly.

I slept as fitfully as always, only this time without waking up to Oldavai's reassuring presence. When I woke, I paced. Once I reached the point of acceptance I ate and drank what the Dark put in front of me, all the while fully understanding the consequences of doing so. He didn't come back. I thought about his words about learning and set out to do just that. I was going to become my own teacher it seemed. My time was spent fine tuning my aim, volume, and severity of the fire and ice living within me. The Darkness soaked up everything I threw into the living space around me. I wasn't sure what that meant but kept going anyway.

Eventually I spoke to it like it was another person and asked for specifics. It set up targets for me, dimmed the lighting, even went so far to become a moving obstacle. Eventually it felt like we were having a conversation even though I was the only vocal one. When I laughed it would ripple like water with a stone thrown in it. When I grew frustrated it would rush around me like storm winds through prairie grass.

One day I woke up to find shiny hardwood floors and a ballet bar from my youth. I sighed and ran my hands over its smoothness. The mirror in front reflected me back and I stared at my outfit. Just like ballet classes with leotard and wrap around skirt. My feet encased themselves in pointe shoes and I was immediately lifted. I startled myself with the laugh that burst forth and went to work, music flowing through the room. I felt like the dancing girl in the red shoes as I danced, not wanting to stop. The Dark swirled in the room with me, partnering me. With the briefest of thoughts, the music and my outfit changed and suddenly I was dancing a salsa that turned into free flow. I couldn't get enough, and I laughed as the fog of Darkness paced me through the room.

The floor turned into mats and my partner dissipated into the air. I immediately started tumbling and practicing my gymnastics. I did it all, my mother forced me. In every new place we landed she pushed me to excel physically. I hated her for it, the expectations, the grueling schedule, the constant moving of locations. Even as she worked two jobs just to keep me in classes, any classes, all classes, and I begged her to let me work, to contribute, she refused. You'll understand when you're older. The words whispered loudly in the room.