Standing up, I stretched, and leaned to the uphill slant of my home, automaticly adjusting myself to stay upright. My apartment was in a bridge, the largest on the river. Unnatural, I know, but it worked. Stone was the only thing that kept demons at bay, and this bridge had much of it. I glanced at the wall, my hand drawn map of my apartment still tacked to the thin layer of cork I hung there. I had made that when I began building this place, giving myself and idea of what I wanted.
Now it was my only home. The only thing mom and dad could leave me. Everything else was obliviated, pushed away into a space between, where nothing ever came back. Shaking my head, I walked into the tiny bathroom. I stared at myself in the dirty mirror. I saw all the smudges on the mirrror riddling my face, and thought, “We truely see our souls in the mirrors.” A tainted perfection, that was my soul. Covered with secrets, lies. For protection, my saint told me. I never learned his name. I only learned my saint’s name in time of true dire need. Apparently, I had not faced that yet.
I brushed my teeth and put my head under the faucet, rinsing my hair. Today was going to be spent on another escapade, searching for the latest demon. This one was somehwere close by. About four bridges down, across the street, in an old, once-elegant garden. This demon was old, harmless. But it was causing trouble, people going missing. This one gave into the demon desire more often. Demons preffered human. Of couse, most were smart enough to stay from humans often. They knew of the hunters.
Hmmmm.. The hunters. People like me. The ones who lived to destroy the demons. We were called Custodes Animi. The soul protectors. Our existence was solely to protect innocent souls from the dark messengers of the underworld, the demons. The only power I knew we really had was how we could “blind” people. We made them all unable to see or hear our weapons and all we did with them.
I walked to the closet and started picking out my gear. A gray tank top, black canvas capris, my weapons belt –which had an assortment of knives, a stock of various bullets, and two customized handguns-, my black half-jacket, and my dark gray converse.
Everything I wore had a small symbol stitched into some part of the cloth. The design was icy blue wings sprouting from a blood red symbol that, in the world of the saints, means ‘guard’. The entire design is outlined in black. That is the design of the soul protectors.
Lost in thought, I didn’t notice they misty form taking shape a few feet in front of me. Only when I sensed another presence did I turn, out of habit. It was my saint. Well, it was a light-reflection of him. Saints could not come to earth, so they stayed wherever it is they are and project their essence to the location they must be. I looked up at him, expecting to see the clear calm face he usually wears, but instead I looked into the eyes of a man who feared for his life. A man who was about to die.
“There is no time, Noemi. The saints are being hunted. The box, use the box! There are secrets you do not know of from your past. Learn them, and fight. Fight for your life. This is a crossroads, now take a path!” His voice changed to a prophetic sounding tone. “Within the walls of ancient oak, lie a dagger, and a cloak. These items of worth are keys, to set your troubles at ease. Within your heart is magic, chiseled in your core. Within your past are secrets, your family has kept. Release, release, release them, or you shall be in debt.”
Just then, the room was filled with a piercing scream, and the image of my saint suddenly had a blade protruding from his heart, and he began to fall. As he fell, his image faded, leaving the imprint of his death behind my eyelids, the only thing proving me it wasn’t a dream.
I was in shock. What had just happened? Who in the world would need to kill the saints? Did he just recite me a riddle? Quite a confusing one, too. He had said “the box”. What box? I did not recall ever getting a box from anyone. What kind of box? And my history? I thought I knew my history. My life and everyone in my family’s lives had been spent on demon hunting. There was more to that? That wasn’t possible. But still, the saints don’t lie. I sighed shakily, and headed for the gap in the bridge I called my door. There was nothing I could do about it now. I was not meant for anything but to kill demons, and kill demons only. Wonderful. The one thing I actually was interested in doing and I couldn’t even do it…
I braced myself with my hand against the inside of the bridge, swung my right leg out onto a ledge I had built for myself, and ducked my head through the hole. Taking my free hand, I grasped the beam above me, and quickly brought my other hand out to get a better grip. I pulled my left leg out and placed it a foot away from my right one. Then, as quietly as possible, I swung my legs up over the side, landing in a crouch. I straightened up, and looked around to see if anyone had noticed.
There were a few people walking across, and some cars too, but no one had realized I had seemingly popped from thin air. Hmmm, what a relief. I did NOT want to have to deal with that today. I turned, and began my way to the far end, going through the route in my head. After I got off the bridge, I would have to make a right and follow that until I reached the town church, and there would be the garden. And then, I would slay the demon, and go home to find another one. Easy as pie.
I hopped off the curb and sped across the street, walking briskly down the sidewalk. The faster I got this over with, the better. Reaching the church, I looked up. This church had not been touched for years now, and the cross at the top was cracked and broken. One side of the cross was missing, and the other was riddled with crevices. I sighed, and turned to see the gate to the garden. Show time. I slowly slid the rusted gate open just wide enough to slide through, and immediately ducked into a crouch, obscuring myself from view behind the overgrown weeds and plants.
Keeping myself silent came naturally, after so many years of practice. I heard a grunting noise, and recognized it as a demon conversation call, and crept closer to the sound. Peering through the plants, I saw nearly fifteen demons sitting around each other, grunting and spitting. All around, there were bones, human bones. I grimaced. This was not what I expected, and it would NOT be fun.
Gender:
Points: 0
Reviews: 67