The Fighter (Book 1)

Chapter 1

His wings were stunning, black and scorched and shredded with horns adorning the tips by his perfectly tanned neck. I was surprised they didn't pierce his skin, especially when they folded around him in class as he tried to make himself smaller. His name was Zack, and though we knew each other's true identities, we never spoke. Silent stares if we passed in the hallways of our lonely, little school.

I didn't know demons enrolled in public schools. Many of them have horrible tempers, and kids can be awful people, but I'd never seen Zack blow up. I waited. Patiently waited for the day he'd give himself up with his temper, but it didn't come. I waited for him to blow up like I waited for my own identity to be exposed.

Zack would be the next Einstein, that I could tell without a hint of a doubt. He was flunking all of his classes, which were the same as mine, and I wasn't getting out of here without some recognition of hard work. Despite the fact that he was failing, I could see through his getup. Actually, I could hear it. He would mutter the correct answer any time a teacher addressed the class with a question. His voice was deep, and it felt like silk against my ears that were tuned to hear anything within a three-mile radius.

I wanted to talk to him, not only because he was a demon and I was fascinated by them, but also because he was more attractive than anyone in that school and I had a tiny bit of a crush on him.

The day we first spoke to each other started off with a few horrible mistakes. I woke up late that morning, but my legal guardian and alcoholic aunt was already seeing double and had downed a bottle at least of whiskey. Seeing as I wouldn't have time for a shower, I threw my long, dark curls into a tight ponytail and downed half a cup of salt water before running out the door to catch the bus with still-frozen waffle in one hand and my disgustingly heavy backpack in the other.

I worried all morning, stuffing my headphones in my ears and trying not to think about what could go wrong. Half a cup would be enough until lunch. Then I'd get more. Simple as that.

First period was Algebra II, which I had with Zack. I took notes with a dizzy head and a racing heart, and I barely heard the bell that dismissed us. I packed everything up, stumbling out the door. My vision was clouded like I had a veil over my eyes, and my lungs gasped for air.

I waited to die or shrivel or something, but it didn't happen. Nobody would know what to do for me, unfortunately. Somebody placed a hand on my back, rubbing quickly and asking what I needed. Words couldn't form in my mouth.

The hand left suddenly, and I was nudged onto my back, easing some air into my lungs. I saw two piercing blue eyes lock on mine before I pointed at the front pocket of my backpack. "Get her some water!" Zack commanded the small crowd that had gathered. Feet shuffled, and he turned back to me, "Are you gonna need me to breathe for you?" A smirk spread across his full, pink lips. Typical for a demon, I guessed.

I shook my head, letting out a small laugh followed by a coughing fit. Zack took a quick look around, scanning the crowd, "It's all good, Jesus. She's dehydrated, that's all."

Surprisingly, the crowd dispersed. A few teachers lingered, but Zack rolled his eyes, patiently waiting, as they left as well. He dug around in the front pocket of my bag for a few packets of salt, dumping them into a foam cup of water. "You look like a fish out of water," Zack smiled playfully as he carefully sat me upright and placed the cup at my lips. "Coincidental? I think not."

I turned a shade of scarlet, taking the cup in my shaking hands and tipping it back until everything was gone. "Thanks," I mumbled, still shaking.

"We're not done, sweetheart," he took the cup. "Stay here. Don't worry about being late, I'll handle it."