The Demon Inheritance

TWENTY-FOUR

I had fought Death alongside an airplane hundreds of miles up in the air. Getting off at the point of a moving truck sounded alright to me, as long as it was necessary. I could just use my wind to make sure the landing was safe.

The knife is in my hands again. I'm shaking, looking down at the woman below me. My dear mother, slick with black blood. Her eyes, which glowed with madness in the darkness earlier, were dull and glazed. A car passes by the window, and I can see her face. Her expression is some mixture of fear and anger, and her blonde hair is spread out around her head.

I feel a raspy scream building up in the back of my throat, but I'm too weak to let it out. I drop the knife, which clatters to the ground. The droplets of blood spring up, bright in the light of another vehicle passerby. I didn't want to do anything anymore. There would surely be nothing after this. Surely, I deserved death.

No... There was one more thing I could depend on.

"I'm sorry, baby Rachael," I said. With every muscle in my body, I quivered up until I could walk without my knees buckling. "I had to kill our mom. And now... I'm coming for you."

Someone touched my shoulder, causing me to swallow my emotions and glare at them. A bead of sweat trickled down my forehead, and the pounding of my heart hurt my ears.

"You started nodding off," Oliver said, smiling curiously. "Did you even hear Fango?"

I shook my head, mildly irritated. How come he could so easily break me out if the trance if my vision when I normally went hours on end living in them? "No. I didn't.."

"We are getting off in a few miles!" Nahara piped.

My heart thudded once, coming to a calmer resolution. "Really?!"

Oliver took my hand against my will, grinning. Each tooth glittered like a star in his mouth, his eye, of course, being an even brighter one compared to it. His skin was soft against mine, almost like calloused silk. It was in that moment I chose defeat. If Mary were to come back, I wouldn't replace Oliver. He had been my friend through good times and bad, and those were the people worth keeping. He had kept me up through everything, from the death to the kidnappings, from the smiles to the visions. It was time to push aside my suspicions about people themselves and let a few come through. I didn't talk too much with Dillan like I used to, but I had let him through, hadn't I? Oliver was my friend. I cursed myself for ever wondering if he would be otherwise, just an Apotropaic. I squeezed his hand thankfully with a small smile. A friendly one. I would not replace him after this Hell of a journey was made. After all, he had been by my side... He was mine, I was his.

In the sense of friendship.

Oliver seemed to notice me relaxing, and sighed in relief. "I know... Mary will be here soon. It's great, isn't it? It will be great for all of us to be completed with the Minium. Especially you..."

"For me... It will feel like..."

"Going home?" Nahara finished for me with a wink. "I figure that's what it will be like..."

Before I could cast her a grateful glance, the truck jolted. My body sprang forward, and Oliver brought out his arm to protect me from being slammed across space. That didn't keep him from slinging across the space by himself, pushing himself in front of my to soften my landing. We all flew through the air, slamming into the boxes that were stacked against each other. The boxes crushed against our weight, the food inside exploding.

I think a dorito hit me in the eye.

Oliver gripped my shoulder and turned me around mid-air, his body covering me like a protective blanket. Of course, it didn't matter if his physical form died. However, I felt cold fear force itself through my veins for the people that could. There were too many people in the cargo that could die, landing a wrong way in the tin box. I opened my mouth to yell something, but the sound of crumpling metal and swerving tires screeched over my voice. Oliver tugged me desperately, and I tried to save everyone with my air. However, there was a twitch in my abilities, as if my power couldn't handle keeping it all up.

The last thing I saw was a white-hot light stabbing me through a space of inky darkness, promising me. Promising me that someone here would die.

I took in a deep breath, my hands gripping either side of an armrest covered in some strange texture. When I opened my eyes, cold sweat rolling down my forehead, I found myself in a room of colors I had never seen before. The deranged symbol figured like a 'three' was inked onto every oddly-shaded flag.

I turned myself towards two thrones that sat on front of me, like a couple of high seats in front of a church. One was empty, and in the other sat a woman with long black hair. Ebony.

I moved my fingers. This wasn't a normal vision; I couldn't control myself. And I was in my own body, as Emma Whitestone,

"Your power is wearing you down a bit, huh?" she said, giving a small laugh of mockery. Her slanted eyes suggested torment.

I bit my lip. "This is real?"

"What is reality?" answered Ebony. "Perhaps your reality is different from everyone else's. If it is so different, how can it all be the same thing?"

I stood up off the pew, gulping. "Why am I here?"

"Don't betray us." The Kalos warrior was commanding, and raked her fingers through her hair. "No matter what you learn. We did it all for your own good. For the good of the world, if you are selfless."

"Dear Croma..." I clenched my jaw. "What did you do?"

"Oh my Croma, Emma Whitestone, wake up!" Someone's voice was far away, gradually drifting closer and closer. My vision was blurry when I could finally muster the strength to peel back my eyelids, and all I could tell was that there was a blurry face above mine. They were shaking me desperately. Even their screaming was muffled by a loud ringing in my ears.

I didn't have much will to speak or open my eyes wider than a slant, but I skipped my finger up against the sleeve of their jacket gingerly to let them know I was okay.

In time, I recognized him as Oliver, crying and yelling my name over and over. People all around us seemed to be holding each other, crying. All except for who appeared through my clearing vision to be Dillan and Nahara, seemingly looking for someone.

I gasped in a deep breath and shakily pulled myself up the slightest bit before Oliver gave in and pulled me into his lap. He cradled me against his chest, not that I could protest. He kissed my forehead over and over again, which I didn't like but couldn't fight.

"I told myself you were sleeping!" he wheezed. "I told myself you couldn't feel anything bad!"

I mustered the will to murmur in a croaking voice, "Too bad... It all hurts like a motherfucker..." My muscles ached uncomfortably, and I gripped him shakily, trying to steady myself.

"Stop... You're going to hurt yourself.." He moved his leg under me, burying his face into my shoulder.

"Are you... okay?" I ventured.

He nodded. "I think I may have broke some ribs and one of my legs, but it's worth it to protect you, my- my l-lovely... Extant..." He squeezed me desperately, but carefully. As if I were gold dust, and I could be lost on the wind at any moment.

"Stop... being so... touchy..."

Dillan looked back at us, jaw slack. The box around us was dented in every way, and there were parts where the metal had been ripped open and the light shone through. His purple eyes looked to be welling with tears, and he struggled to stand in the spotlight.

We had lost someone.

He clutched a note in his hand.

The tacosexual came to his bloody knees on the ground, shaking as he let out a cry of rage and anguish.

Ace had died.

More importantly, Fango and Delta had been kidnapped.

And the note was a taunt, written by the demon Salt himself.