Leah Carstairs (Book #2)

When The Demon Fell

The demon fell into the flames, his body burning from inside out. He kept falling for miles and for hours. And when Oskino opened his eyes, he saw himself in the New York City suburbs. Alive. With heavenly fire in his veins.

2008

If there was anything that Oskino was not, it was unaware, because he was aware of every single person, country, conflict, thought and fate in this world.

He knew as much as a man could know about the past, present and the future. However, waking up on the asphalt in front of the Empire State Building in ragged, burnt off clothes and not knowing where he was or how he ended up there - that was a slightly embarrassing situation.

There were people all around him - well-groomed people in stylish sweater dresses and knee-length coats and elegant shoes, wearing makeup, dyed streaks in their hairs, piercings and cigarettes. Mundanes.

And to them, he was neither invisible nor respectable; the curious stares, eyes of disapproval and the wide berths that some people gave, were enough evidence.

Oskino quickly got up from the road, and clumsily ran off to a dark alley where the population was comparatively less. Squatting down on his knees, the demon began to think how and why he had ended up here.

Thinking was difficult, since Oskino's mind practically seemed to be burning - as were his insides - with a wild, uncontrollable sort of an energy.

Just a few smoky, unclear bits seemed to be coming to him: crowds of nephilim, all Marked and armed, lonely miles of deserts and canyons, fire - lots of fire everywhere, swords and battling blades, black demonic blood, the Infernal Cup, an unearthly woman's silhouette rising from the flames and another one rising from the sea, blood and ichor, the piercing cold marble statue of Raziel, tempests in a sea, a burning palace, and in between them all, the face of a child - a very innocent and loveable child.

Oskino opened his eyes, now his entire body bursting with the fiery blood, his head pounding with pain.

He collapsed on the ground, and just before he did, he spoke 2 feverish words : "Leah Carstairs."

***

When the demon opened his eyes, he found himself staring at the white ceiling of a very brightly-lit room. Oskino worriedly looked about himself, trying to figure out where he might be, when the cheery voice of a woman interrupted him.

"There, now! How do you feel?" She greeted, startling him almost out of his bed.

Oskino didn't say anything, and only kept staring dumbly at the woman before him. Mildly attractive, with calm blue eyes, dimples on her cheek and very soft silvery-blonde hair.

She wore a mundane doctor's coat - which made Oskino groan. The last thing he wanted was to be amongst mundanes. He was anyway having trouble remembering who he was, what was he supposed to do and how he had ended up here; it would be better if Oskino could stick with some people of his kind.

The lady quirked an eyebrow at him. "Did I now perhaps paralyse your mouth?"

Oskino abruptly got up, and pushed past the woman. "Woah, woah! That is rude, big guy. Won't you at least tell me your name?" She questioned.

"Where am I? Why did you bring me here?" Oskino demanded.

"441 A, Charleswick, Brooklyn, NY. As to why, because you collapsed in an alley all of a sudden. I am guessing you are very sick."

"Well, I am not sick. And I need to go." Oskino replied harshly.

"Very well. At least let me prescribe you something."

"I don't think I shall require anything of that sort."

"You do think so? Try walking till the door."

Oskino took off as fast as he could, but the mundane doctor was right; he was too tired and weak, even to walk up till the door. "Will you listen to me and rest now?" The lady asked softly.

Oskino didn't reply. He blinked a couple of times, and something seemed to be changing in his vision. The woman - her skin - it didn't seem to be of the same porcelain colour anymore; it was changing its hue.

"Why!" He cried, surprise. "You never told me, you are a demon too!"

The lady gave him an oddly suspicious look, and for a moment, Oskino wondered if he had messed up by asking that. Perhaps this woman was purely a mundane afterall, and it was his vision that was blundering.

"I am part demon, sir." The lady replied, her tone serious now. "And, will you tell me, who you are?"

Oskino hesitated for a split second before answering confidently. "I am Jack."

"Jack. . . .so, you seem to know something about demons, I am presuming?"

"I do." Oskino muttered. His own memory was vague in this matter, but he did know that demons were like one of the stairs that led up to his identity.

"You know that being a mundane, you are theoretically not supposed to know of such things, do you?"

"A mundane?" Oskino questioned, startled at the woman's words. Did she think he was a mundane?

He quickly turned to stare into a wall mirror and took a look at himself. Oskino remembered for sure his appearance before he . . . .er, became so vague and unaware and haggard. He was mostly human-looking - like a mighty handsome knight with smooth skin, sharp cheekbones, an elegant jawline, long artistic fingers and tall manly legs.

The only demonic things about him were a selection of charcoal coloured patterns etched on his face in the form of cracks and vines, his long, severed, charcoal-black fingernails, his elegant black horns and the massive black Raven wings that sprouted from his shoulder blades at his will. 

And now, Oskino looked like a mundane - his appearance hadn't changed; he still had the same smooth skin, the devilish handsome glint about him, the long cheekbones and fingers and the same sexy built, but no horns, no demonic fingernails, no swirly patterns on the contours of his face, nothing about him that labeled him as a resident of Hell.

He looked like a mundane - and a very dirty and rugged mundane, that too.

"Are you . . . .are you okay, Jack?" The lady questioned.

"No." Oskino replied sharply. His companion didn't say anything for some time.

"I feel there is a lot more about you than what you are letting out. But, well, I guess that is a conversation for another day. Right now, you must rest. It might refresh you and clear your mind."

Oskino wanted to shouted at her to leave him alone and stop fretting so much about him, but he realised that for once, the lady was right. So he sank back onto his thin bed, and buried himself under the sheets.

"You never told me your name." He said abruptly.

The woman smiled down gently. "Catarina. Catarina Loss."