Ink

Jake closed the door to his bedroom, and turned the lock. Like that was going to keep Aimon out. Still, it was something. He leaned against the door and ran two shaky hands through his hair. He’d asked Aimon for some time alone to speak with his brother.

Cam was sitting on his bed, cradling his arm again.

Jake frowned at his brother. “Does it hurt?”

Cam shook his head. “Just feels strange, like there is something moving beneath my skin.” He looked at Jake hopefully. “You think that Aimon knows a way to remove the mark?”

“Maybe but . . . Jesus Christ! Did he have to be a demon too?!” Jake shook his head, and grounded himself again. They needed a game plan. They were ass deep in alligators and sinking fast. “This dude just tried to kill you Cam. We can’t trust him. We have no way of knowing which team he plays for, or if he’s looking out for his own skin. Maybe this other demon is just a rival Aimon doesn’t want around.”

Cam sighed. “Yeah, but what choice do we have? He didn’t kill me though. I think if he was just eliminating a rival I’d be dead by now. You heard what he said. As long as I carry the mark Cit—the other demon can walk the Earth. I think we need to find out more about what’s going on here. I bet he knows a lot more than that book.”

Jake nodded. Yeah, he had a lot of questions. The problem was he didn’t necessarily want to hear the answers.

****
“You have mail.”

The computer chime startled Aimon, and he scowled down at the computer screen with the icon of an envelope on it. He watched the monitor for a few seconds, but when nothing happened went back to observing the boy’s room.

Aimon had been to Earth plenty of times to be familiar with most of the human technology. He knew that the small gold statues lining one shelf on the wall were called trophies. He walked closer to get a better look. One statue was a miniature of a man kicking a ball around. Another one featured a man holding a book open.

He walked to the boy’s dresser, and picked up one of the various pictures displayed there. There were three people in the photograph. He recognized the two boys as the brothers that had just left. The woman in the picture had the same warm brown eyes. She looked old enough to be their mother.

Aimon studied the three of them, comparing likenesses. The oldest boy, he decided, was the most visually appealing. His brown eyes seemed to shine with an inner vibrance. His sandy blonde hair was curly and just long enough to brush the collar of his shirt. Besides that he had a slender nose, a full bow shaped mouth, and a tiny cleft in his chin.

Aimon heard the brothers approaching. He put the picture back in his place and was turned towards the door by the time they entered.


“We need to ask you some questions?” Jake said.

Aimon didn’t respond but he didn’t protest either, so Jake took it as a good sign and said. “We want to know more about this Demon King my brother has awakened. What does he want with Cam?”

“You want a history of this demon?” Aimon asked.

Jake nodded. “Just want to know what the hell we’ve gotten ourselves into. You can give us the edited version if you want. I was able to translate a portion of the book we had, and I know he is 3,000 years old. So he’s probably done more than we have time to listen to right now.”

Aimon nodded. “He fell from grace 3,000 years ago.”

“Fell?!”

“When you lose your soul you are reborn as a demon. ‘He’ was worshipped as a God by the Nubian Kushites in ancient Egypt. All demons are born with different powers and ‘he’ had the power to control the elements. He brought the Nubians rain, and they, in return, sacrificed their people in his honor.”

“Doesn’t that mean you don’t have a soul either?” Cam asked.

“Yes. I gave up my soul a few hundred years after ‘he’ did. The more desires you have for this world; the more you are dragged down. Until you are sunk so low there is no way back. For all of us it is different. Some lose their soul for greed or hate. Some lose their soul for want of power.”

“Then why are you at odds with ‘him’. You are just like him. How could you want to kill my brother when you are no better?”

Anger flickered briefly in Aimon’s eyes, but was quickly subdued. His eyes went blank again, unreadable. “Because I pledged my sword hand to Ordo, in penance for my soul back!”

“Ordo?!” Cam asked.

“The Order, its Latin. They are in charge of overseeing mankind’s well-being and keeping the demons in check.”

“So if there are angels and demons then there has to be a God right?” Jake asked.

Aimon shrugged. “There is The Order and The Creator. Your people have called him many names, and sometimes worshipped more than one, but it is all the same.”

“So if you kill enough demons, and do enough good deeds for mankind The Order will give you your soul back?” Cam said.

Aimon shook his head. “No, The Order does not have my soul to give back. It is not something tangible that you can lock away in a box. Only I can get my soul back, just as it was only I that threw it away.”

There was a long silence between them, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Then Cam said. “Is there a way to remove the mark?”

“We must kill the demon whose mark you bear.”

Jake spoke. “You still have not said what this demon wants with Cam.”

“Cam is the first and only. Followers must take the mark willingly. In Cam’s case he drew it on his skin not knowing what would happen, but it was still done by his own hand. The mark is a link to the demon. Through this tie Cam will begin to feel the needs of the demon. If necessary, ‘he’ could live vicariously from Cam. When Cam eats he eats. His pain is the demons pain. His cravings are the demons cravings. The longer Cam bears the mark the stronger the link will become. The demon will want to keep Cam close. Normally many have taken the mark and more people share the burden of the demon, allowing for less influence by him. Cam will get the full force.”

Cam made a sound of pain, and Aimon watched as Jake drew his brother close and wrapped his arm around him.

Jake looked up at Aimon. “Where do we go from here?”

“You come with me.”

“What if we don’t want to?”

“Then I must kill you both. It is not my wish to harm innocents, but I think The Order will understand. I can not let the demon have Cam.”

Jake nodded. “Thought you’d say some shit like that. When are we going?”

Aimon cocked his head as if he were hearing something at a frequency too low for the brothers to hear. Something dark settled over his face, and Jake had to squelch the urge to turn and run. If Aimon was this scary, he really hated to come face to face with the hostile demon.

Aimon was suddenly moving across the room toward them. Jake took a step back, instinctively not wanting to be near the power he felt radiating off of Aimon. Aimon grasped his arm below the elbow and began pulling him towards the door. “The demon is close. We have to go now!”

“Wait. Can’t you just fight him here?” Jake struggled to keep up while holding on to his brother.

“He won’t be interested in fighting me. He’ll go for your brother. We must hide you first.

Then I go find him alone.”

****

It started as a dot no bigger than an eraser head. Thin needles of electricity fanned out, doubling in size for every second that passed. The piercing white shards of light made a sizzling noise. The doorway widened until it was big enough for a man to pass through, or a demon.

Cithru stepped out. He was in the living room.

His taloned feet clicked softly on the hardwood floor. His snout of a nose twitched as he scented the air. Thin black lips peeled away from razor sharp teeth in mockery of a smile.

He loped off in search of the boy.

His nose led him up a stairway to a room at the furthest corner of the house. Here the boy’s scent was the strongest. Cithru’s emaciated chest collapsed, and expanded, trying to take in the boys scent. He was walking towards the bed where the scent lingered the most, when he smelled demon spore. Not just any spore either, but that of a Demon King. Cithru froze, an involuntary growl rumbling from his chest.

He only knew of one Demon King who would have dared come here and taken what was his. Aimon.

Even knowing the boy was gone, Cithru still approached the bed. He curled his fists into the blankets, and brought the comforter to his nose, inhaling deeply. He took the scent of the boy inside himself. Now he would know his scent anywhere.

If he knew Aimon, then the boy would not be returned here. With a Demon King now worked into the equation Cithru knew he would need to build up his strength. He also needed his sword. They had taken it away from him when they set him in his tomb.

He made his way back downstairs. If he had his full strength, he would have simply made another doorway where he wished, but he was still much weaker than he would have liked. It was easier to go back to the one already made.

Cithru was walking through the living room when the phone rang. He hissed, not liking the shrill whine. He cast his black eyes around the room, seeking out the source of the irritating noise. The ringing stopped, and the answering machine bleeped. Then a woman’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “I’m guessing you two are still asleep. I just wanted to call and say Happy Birthday Cam. I didn’t want to wake you and your brother this morning. I’m sorry I had to work today, but you know we’ve been short on staff lately. Cam your birthday present is in my closet. I’ll be home at four. Then we can all go out to eat. I love you two. Behave yourselves. Bye.” The machine clicked off.

“Cam,” he repeated, with a grin.

Cithru stepped into the doorway, chuckling.