Liv’s feet shift ever so slightly, her senses pushed to the max. Though she looked disoriented, and she certainly wasn’t in tip top shape, she had more sense than anyone would assume after being flash banged. A strange humming thrummed in her ears, one that had nothing to do with the ringing in her ears. It grew by the second, crescendoing at the same moment Bruno called for her to dodge. Peculiar, but not pressing. She slides herself to the side, throwing her fist in a wild haymaker.

  The feeling of flesh against her gauntleted fist is one familiar to her, reverberations running through the ground as he presumably bounces off the floor. That had to have hurt. According to Bruno, he was wasting a charge healing himself. He didn’t have a pain tolerance then, or he just wanted to hear himself speak without a broken jaw. It didn't matter either way. He had one charge left, though she didn’t have the same luxury thanks to her battle with those thieves.

  The hum increased with Bruno’s report of his approach, her body tensing. It was almost natural to her, more instinct than conscious. She throws her arm to the side in a block, feeling her bare arm meet his. He locks hers, throwing a jab into her broken nose, following with one to her sternum. She doesn’t falter for a second, her fist burying in his stomach twice in return. She could feel his lock weaken, something heavy bouncing against her boot. The hum loses a bit of its power, splitting into two distinct melodies. Her confusion is quickly remedied by Bruno's report.

  He had dropped his weapon.

  Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, she readies her fist, prepared to throw another haymaker into his jaw. Only then does a strange thrum connect the two distinct melodies back together, that ringing strengthening to its previous power. Pain lances through her as she slams into the ground, bruises sprouting across her back like saplings ready to be reaped. By this point, her vision was recovering, so that was a bonus; unfortunately, she was back on the ground… Again. Ainsley wasn’t looking all too hot himself, his breathing ragged, desperately pushing himself up.

  Not like she would allow that.

  She scrambles up herself, just enough to throw her arm toward his half prone form. He curses under his breath, desperately throwing his weapon, skating away as her fist detonates against the floor. Liv sails up a short distance, landing on her feet with a hard thud.

  Across the small town, Ainsley stared back, each breath heavy and labored. He was running out of stamina, and Liv had to admit that she was getting a bit tired too; though, certainly not to his extent. He was crafty, and his hand to hand skills were nothing short of impressive. Unfortunately, Liv was far stronger physically. His fancy locks didn’t work against someone who wanted to be as close at all times.

  The battle across from them was also going poor for Ainsley. The demon, for all its strength, stood zero chance against the combined force of Donovan, Charlotte, and Anthony. Every attack was either blocked by Donovan, riposted by Charlotte, or flat out avoided by Anthony. It was burned, bludgeoned, slashed, and bombarded with blasts at all times.

  Ainsley glares openly at Liv, his guise of calm completely dropped. In its place was malice, annoyance, and a twinge of wishful thinking.

  “Fine,” He spits, venom dripping off each syllable. His hands raise in defeat, his weapon hanging off his thumb. “You win. Call off your team and I’ll give you your stupid cargo.”

  Liv gives him a good once over, her eyes filled with suspicion. On the one hand, he had tried to kill her– pretty recently too. She didn’t know a lot about conversation and social cues, but trying to stab someone in the eye seemed like the end of social reasoning. On the other hand…He seemed genuinely desperate, his eyes nervously darting over to the one-sided beatdown happening just a few paces away. She didn't want to fight him anyway. She supposed a conversation couldn’t hurt.

  “Reckon yer gonna have to explain what…” She starts, gesturing generally in the demons direction. “Yer doin’ with a demon n' stuff. Is it, like, some sorta studyin' thing?” She cocks her head, dropping her guard just enough to cross her arms. "Ain't havin' one of 'em bad for y'all?"

  Ainsley grits his teeth, a bead of sweat pouring down his sweat. For a moment, Liv worries he'll break their peace, his weapon sliding back into his grasp. The demons shrieks as Charlotte cuts into its body is enough to dissuade him, however, a bitter sigh escaping his mouth as he begins to speak.

  “Thats the person you promised to heal. Malo.” He says, knuckles whitening around his railroad spike.

  Liv blinks, her head rapidly switching between his breaking composure and the demon slashing a her team.

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  “I’m sorry, I think I must’a heard ya wrong.” She starts, her pinky digging into her ear. “Cause I reckon I just heard ya call that… Thing Malo. I dunno if you know this, but that’s a demon.”

  “No she’s not.” He starts, his teeth digging into the bottom of his lips. His hand runs through his now dirty hair, a shaking sigh escaping his mouth. “Well, she is, but she wasn’t always one.”

  “Yer gonna need to tell me the full story ‘ere.” Liv says, her arms crossing. That sentence hadn’t answered a single question she had; in fact, it raised nothing but questions. She “was” a human? What did that even mean? To her knowledge, people didn’t just wake up as demons on random days.

  “Stop them first!” Ainsley desperately demands, his voice shaking with the emotion behind it. He was growing more desperate by the moment, his eyes now fully locked on the fight unfolding. People were gripping their weapons, actions not unnoticed by Liv’s team.

  “Yer gon’ need to go first.” Liv responds. “Cause I dunno if we’re gon’ be able to stop ‘em without all the info here. Tell me what happened and I’ll help ya, then we can talk a bit more.”

  Ainsley barely suppresses the scream that threatens to tear its way from his throat, his frustration bubbling like a pot ready to boil over. Still, not like he had a lot of leverage in the situation.

  “Fine.” He growls, a breath escaping his nose. “Me and Malo founded this place in hopes of dragging ourselves out of poverty. We were both gifted Synth Weapons by a mutual teacher with the stipulation that I we do something I cannot say."

  Liv furrows her brow, gearing up to ask a question. She's quickly interrupted as he practically pushes the words from his throat, each syllable said with as much urgency as he could muster, his eyes darting to the demon's quickly weakening form every so often.

  "We got ourselves into a fight she couldn’t win. In desperation, she snatched my weapon. She managed to save us by the skin of her teeth, but she was exhausted. When we got back… She had already begun to change. I... I chained her up in our old storage center. I switched all our spending into finding a way to cure her, but I just can’t find the way to do it… I…”

  His voice finally breaks, blood trailing down his hand, dripping to the floor from the tip of his weapon. For the first time, Liv could see how tired he looked. His eyes droop, his hands shaking with the vestiges of a days-long adrenaline rush. She could see it, mostly because that had been her not too long ago. Whoever this Malo person was… They were important to them, important enough to give everything up for.

  With a sigh, Liv turns to her team, her hands cupping around her mouth as she shouts. “OI!”

  Charlotte turns her head, easily parrying a swipe from the demon's rapidly weakening arms. She tilts her head, confused by the sudden peace between Liv and her attacker. “Are you quite alright, Liv?”

  “Yeah!” Liv shouts back. “I reckon we got a peace goin’ on ‘ere! All ya gotta do is keep that demon alive!"

  “Alive!?” Donovan interjects, his leg hooking against the back of the demon's head, slamming its face to the waiting floor below. “They're trying to kill us!”

  “Yeah yeah, I know!” Liv retorts. “But they’re people!”

  “People?” Donovan shouts, his eyes locking on the demon as it tries to scramble back to its feet. He shoots his leg out, shattering its knee. “Are you sure?”

  “Hundred percent!” Liv shouts back, shooting him a thumbs up. "We're gon' heal 'em up!"

  Donovan looks at it one last time before shrugging, his knee slamming into the back of its neck, quickly catching its tail under his arm as it tries to stab him. She had been right on their first mission, and the paycheck he would receive by the end of this would more than recoup his lost clothes.

  The demon screeches in protest, its hands scrabbling against the floor for any sort of purchase. It finds none, Donovan’s pin holding strong.

  The tension in the room deflates, weapons slowly slotting back into their sheathes. Ainsley, for his part, seems to deflate with the pressure finally gone, tears of relief and joy streaking down his dust covered face. Liv smiles at him, walking over to clap him on the back. He stumbles with the strike, though his expression doesn’t change a bit.

  Charlotte shoots Anthony a glance, an inaudible note of understanding passing between the two. Anthony nods, his grip tightening on his caduceus, energy building up in the tip of his weapon. He would have to apologize to Liv profusely for breaking her trust, even if he knew he was morally and logically in the right for this. There was no healing this, no helping this. She was corrupted, no doubt about it. he had seen it before. Only death awaited them, whether it be by them or the deterioration of their mind. Raising his arm, he points caduceus toward the demon's head, sending a quick prayer to the Lord for the damned soul.

  Liv can hear the powerful hum before she sees it, her head whipping to Anthony’s form. A lance of pink arcs through the air, blistering with power before slamming into the demon's head. It passes through like butter, detonating on the floor in a flash. The demon shutters once before closing its eyes for the last time. Liv shouts in a mix of confusion and anger, though it dies on her lips as that hum grows stronger next to her.

  She just barely steps back as Ainsley’s railroad spike stabs where her head would’ve been, poised to run through her skull. He no longer looks relieved– far from it. His eyes blaze with a silent hate and anguish, his body rigid like a statue. He didn't even seem all that shocked, adrenaline coursing through his veins like magma. Tears streak down from his face, though they're far from the relieved ones that leaked from his face before. No, these were of hate, of anger, and of anguish.

  The screeching of metal being ripped from its sheathe sounds around them, the village folk rushing toward Anthony with reckless abandon. Though the demon fell, the town mobilized against them.