Page 230 of Evil Hearts

Chapter One

Skia

B eing the only shadow demon was not a big deal until recently. In the last century, humanity has become more and more unworthy. There was never a doubt if a person was good or evil. Now there’s a morally gray line to look out for. Those are people doing bad things, but for a good reason. These are the people I never see. One of the other demon protectors, or guardians, as our lord calls them, will deal with them.

Today I’m watching a man who is harming children in his care. He is a scribe and scholar. Nowadays, they call them teachers. Parents trust him with their children, but he terrorizes and abuses them. Then he threatens them to stay quiet. He preys on them. Those who try to tell what he’s done disappear and the authorities can’t prove any of it. However, I see what happens and how they die from the shadows. I can not interfere, though it makes me sick to watch. I must. Our laws are simple until a sickening limit is hit. We must watch and wait. I only watch the last act of depravity. That limit is about to be hit tonight, so here I wait, watching.

Jarrod Reams is my next meal. Watching as he puts out another cigarette on a young man’s chest, the shadows around me swirl. Preparing to move and devore this monster, I hesitate when the low spotlight goes out and the door bursts open. In charge, three men. All are in black from head to toe. The smaller of the three rushes to the young man and begins talking to him as he unties him. He then ushers the boy outside.

The other two pin Jarrod to the wall. Once the boy is safe, the larger of the other two brings Jarrod within an inch of his face. “Filth, you make me sick. You have eluded the authorities for too long. YOU DIE TONIGHT!” With a quick snap of his hands, the monster Jarrod, falls limp to the floor, dead.

Before I can think better of it, I’m out of the shadows I’m hiding in. Even though I’m encased in my own shadows, I’m across the room in an instant and have the big man up off the ground with one of my shadow tendrils around his neck. “You fool! What have you done? One more minute and he would have been gone. You stole my prize, my meal!”

The other man steps back. “What the fuck? The shadow is talking…What the fuck? A female demon!” Then he swings at me. His fist goes right through me and I laugh.

It’s then I turn back to the man I have in my shadow’s grasp and in his eyes I see terror. His heartbeat is slowing. What the fuck… His heart is good. I have never felt a pure heart, but he is close, too close to pure. Instantly, I drop him. Stumbling back, I mutter apologies and vanish into the shadows once more. I must talk to Lord Prōto, this is not possible.

****

From any shadow on the Earth’s realm, I can jump to any shadow in the Dark Realm, or vice versa. Except for the High Lord’s chambers, but I have never jumped into his throne room before out of respect. Until today. I materialize in a shadow by the door, scaring the shit out of the demon guard. “Damn Skia, what in the Dark Realm?” he asks.

“Oh, shut it Kev. It’s not like you can die from fright.” As I turn, I see all demon eyes in the room are on me. However, it’s the High Lord’s that causes me to still. Is that anger or amusement I see in them?

Dropping to one knee, I say, “My apologies, my Lord. It is urgent I speak to you. Alone.” Keeping my head bowed, I wait.

His thundering voice clears the room faster than normal. “Everyone out!” Once the room is empty, he tells me, “We are alone, my old friend. Rise and tell me what has my best guardian interrupting a meeting for the first time in her long demon life.” He laughs, and it is a laugh that would have most female demons writhing on the brink of orgasm. However, it has no effect on me.

He motions to the table and I sit. He pours me a drink, and without hesitation, I drink it. Who knew three humans could unnerve me? “Hmmm… This must be something major. You have never consumed wine in all the years I’ve known you, or entered the palace via the shadows. Talk to me Skia… What has you so out of sorts?”

Holding up my glass, shocking my Lord once more, I say, “This tale will require another drink.”

Lord Prōto arches a dark eyebrow at me, but he pours me another drink, which I toss back like it is second nature. He pours himself one and sits in his high-back chair. He places one large biker booted foot on the table followed by the other. “Ok Skia, go on. Tell me.”