Act of a Demon: The Dark Bloods - Book II ✓

Prelude

Prelude

For three years she had hidden. That was when it began. Three years for the world to end. Armageddon. It had to be. Why else would demons roam the world? All of them incongruous assortments of man and beast, combing the earth for humans to eradicate. Oh, a few of them were handsome and beautiful to look at. A glorious glimpse before leaving the bewitched captive decapitated.

For some reason, she hadn't been killed on sight when she was found. She had been taken hostage and now stood in a white, unfurnished room. It stank of acrid sweat and salty tears with an underlying odor of feces.

Other wide-eyed detainees accompanied her. Most were calm, jaded souls accustomed to the destruction and devastation of their lands. Used to the presence of demons. It was as if they expected to have been locked in a white cage. They were the ones who were sitting, some huddled, others alone. They all shared the same foreboding expression. It was the end and they accepted it.

She, however, was one of the frantic ones. Her pacing was erratic and aloof. Her hands and arms were useless appendages that kept interfering with her movements. The faded, tattered clothes on her skin were an itchy annoyance. Their sour fragrance on them a sudden recognition.

It was because she lost her rosary.

She had been a loner in hiding. It was simple to just take care of one, especially when her entire family was states away, most likely dead. When the demons had initially attacked, she had been in her dorm room. Many students and professors tried to drive away from the hysterical campus. She simply ran and ran. Away from the crowds. Harder to find one than many.

It had been an easy feat. The invading demons were brutish but stupid.

Thus she hid for the next three years. Transformed from a biology major to a hunter and gatherer guided by her newly born faith. The wooden rosary around her neck had always been a decorative piece of jewelry until she saw that demons were indeed real.

It was during a dangerous food run that he had been seen: a tall, chiseled man. He wore white, baggy pants and nothing else. His strange but beautiful hair wavered through each hue of blue with every turn of his head. He was also quite handsome. Standing before a group of humans, he seemed to be leading them out and away from a crumbling building.

Before the emptying could be complete, the heavy concrete that served as a small porch roof gave way under the last evacuating person. The handsome individual seemed to move at the speed of light as he dashed over and pulled the crying human to safety.

She had seen the rescue though she stood yards away from the corner of another building. Waves of relief and hope dared pump through her.

A small wolf appeared next to the heroic stranger. It jumped into him and the so-called savior transformed into a towering and monstrous wolf. The mortals quickly realized what they were facing. Before a scream could be uttered, the giant wolf pounced and quickly decimated the humans he had been shepherding.

Alarm and instinct overtook her; she ran and ran again, the massacre's mayhem and blood camouflaging her fear filled escape.

But she had eventually been caught. She was a captive now.

Her rosary was gone, lost on the same day she had been apprehended. But why was she not killed? Why were these people in captivity with her?

The door to the white room opened, slicing a doorframe into the otherwise flawlessly bleached room. A lone demon resembling a mutt stood on canine hind legs that rested under a human chest and arms. Its appearance caused some to scream and scramble away. Most bowed their heads in grim acceptance. None of them attempted to escape though.