Rule One: Nothing Goes to Plan

Rule One: Nothing Goes to Plan

 

Expect the unexpected. That’s what father told me two days before he disappeared. “Remember, Lexi. Nothing is as it seems…” He was right. Nothing was as it seemed. We thought we were happy, our family solid. We watched other families break apart and fall to s**t, and took comfort in knowing we weren’t the same.

But that was the thing. We weren’t the same. We were different. Real different. My father worked for the Agency and it was only when he disappeared did we realise what that meant. That night changed everything, and what little normality we had achieved went out the window. We never tried to regain it. What was the point of being normal anyway?

 

***

 

All it took was a minute.

“Help me! Please! Don’t leave me here!” Cowering against the brick wall, my feet scrambled against the brittle road, trying to escape from the dead bodies. Only the street lamp down the alleyway and bright moon gave light in the darkness, illuminating the headless bodies strewn across the pavement. What few decapitated heads lay facing me stared, their cold, black eyes unseeing. The truth in their eyes reflected my pathetic performance as the soldiers shuffled past the bodies. “Please! Someone?” The soldiers ignored me, as I knew they would. There was always one damsel in distress with these situations. If only they knew.

A boot clad foot stepped past me and my hands latched onto the thick, leather. The rough material, weathered from wear, rubbed against my palms. “Help! Me!” The man grunted from behind his black helmet and kicked me back against the wall. Bricks slammed into my head and I grunted at the rough impact. Pain blossomed, causing a moment of dizziness as a wince screwed up my face. Argh. That had been completely uncalled for. Straightening, the man shifted the gun in his grip and stared down at me. Obvious disgust seethed through his glass visor.  I knew what he saw, I had created the perception after all; a petrified, pathetic, penniless, rat who lived in the demon-infested alleyways of Lightfell. My hands self-consciously rose to touch  my dark brown hair plastered against my dirt caked brow. Cowering against the wall in attempt to make myself small and vulnerable, a soft, damp wind attacked my hole infested clothes. A shiver tore through me. A sneer arranged the soldier’s thin lips, accenting the beads of sweat sported by the dark stubble above his upper lip. Idiot. He had fallen for it.

 Raising his hand, he waved over a Detective from behind the enforcement squad. A mature man inspecting a demon’s head looked up at the motion and frowned. Standing, he pushed his way through the men accessing the dead demons to crouch in front of me, a pen and pad in his hand. He offered a gentle smile, the edges of his brown eyes crinkling. I returned it weakly while inside my stomach soured. I was so screwed. Out of all the Detectives in Lightfell, it had to be him.

Detective Jones.

“Hand,” he ordered gently, and with a sigh, I obeyed. There was no need to postpone the evitable. Pulling out a small blade, he nicked my middle finger of my left hand. A flinch jolted my body at the sharp knick. It wasn’t deep, and I had had worse, but still. It didn’t mean I had to like being cut. The stuff stung. Together, Jones and I stared at the crimson beads pricking my finger. The man sighed with relief. He looked up at the guards surrounding us and gave them the A-O-K. “Human.”

 “Be quick. We don’t know if more will come,” one soldier ordered and Jones nodded. Turning back to me, he tapped on my knee to regain my full attention. The soldier who spoke, the one who kicked me, was still leering. B*****d.

“It’s okay. You’re safe now,” Jones said, misreading my weariness.

“I know,” I said, my voice hoarse from shouting.

“Good. Now, what happened?”

Taking a deep breath, I began the usual bullshit knowing full well Jones wouldn’t fall for it. “I don’t remember. It’s all a blur. I was walking home, to my sister, when I stumbled upon these… these.”

“Demons.”

I nodded again, showing my thanks for his help. “They were all dead… besides one.”

“What happened?”
            “He ran. I think he was the one who killed them all.”

“Do you know why he killed them?”

I shook my head.  “Over a human maybe?”

Jones frowned and I noticed the confusion and caution in his eyes. “There are no humans among the bodies,” he murmured.

“The other demon must have kidnapped them then….”

Jones’s eyes narrowed and I forced myself to compose my face. The jig was up. “It’s a really peculiar situation… and story… “ Jones began. “Demons don’t usually kill each other unless it’s a power or challenge. This is different. I know these Demons… Hm.” Closing his notebook, he slipped it back into his coat. He knew. Meeting my eye, I blanched at the sharp disapproval burning in them. Damn. This was not good. I inwardly punched myself. It had to be him.

 “Elixia, what are you doing here?” Jones asked, no amusement in his voice what-so-ever. Great, he was playing bad cop.

“Can’t I play the victim just once?” I asked.
            “You know you’re not the victim here,” he muttered, standing.  I exhaled my frustration. Double damn. Straightening, I shoved myself up from the ground and dropped the persona. Regarding Detective Jones as my equal, I smiled.

“I’m just doing my job, Jones-i,” I said. He shook his head in disbelief, weariness filling his aging face.

“And I’m trying to do mine, but you don’t exactly making it easy. You’re not allowed to do this, you’re too young.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. These demons attacked me on my way home to Shellie.”

Jones swore. “Bullshit! Where is he?”
            “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“The leader of this gang, Malcolf. You know he was trafficking humans God-damn-it! Where is he, Elixia!”

Pressing my lips, true remorse swept through me. “I’m sorry, Detective, I don’t know who this Malcolf is.” Jones glowered at me, and for a second, I swore he was going to give me away to the soldiers. Instead he took a deep breath and forced himself to remain calm. His hand ran through his dark, brown hair in agitation as he glanced around at the busy DAET team surrounding him. Luckily none of the soldiers took notice of us as they made swift work of photographing and cleaning the road. The Demon Activity Enforcement Team was a Government creation filled with brut, block heads. They were nothing more than show who knocked the odd demon together. It was the Agency that was the true peace keeper. They did the dirty work.

Pulling me aside, Jones began his lecture. “You have to be legal age to be part of the Agency"”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, and Jones glare intensified. “May I go, Detective?”

 “Go before I change my mind and bring you in.”

“What for? For self-defence?”

“Go, Elixia. Now.”

Waving my hand at him, I tittered. “So rude.” Jones didn’t respond though his hand rose to massage his temple. My smile widened as he glanced away. Taking the opportunity, I made my leave. Spinning around I leapt up and fluidly grabbed onto the metal bar of the apartment block escape stairs. My legs kicked up and over the bar as my upper body spun. Wind rushed passed my ears as my hair flew around my face. Back arched, I used my feet to push off the bar and throw myself at the next. Rough material covered my palms, taking most of the chilly bite out of the metal as I grasped the bar. Repeating the exercise from below, I flew forward towards the roof top. My hands brushed the cement lip and, flinging myself up, I forward-rolled along the roof before standing.

Well, damn. That didn’t go as planned. Walking back over to the roof top edge, I watched the DAET team below. They wouldn’t find my prints on anything. My prints didn’t exist in the System. My identity didn’t exist. Not anymore. But Detective Jones had been right. I had been looking for Malcolf. The only thing was, he hadn’t been there. In the end, it really had been self-defence. I didn’t want any of his goons. I wanted him. Still, they attacked me when I tried to leave and I had a sucker of a bruise on my left side because of it.

Sighing, I looked up as thunder rumbled in the distance. Stars twinkled in the patches of night sky visible among the dark, grey clouds swarming the rest of the world. Heavy with water, they just waited to empty their load upon this town. A frown tugged at my lips. A storm was coming and I could only hope my night wasn’t going to get any worse.

 

            My apartment block was quiet when I reached it. Too quiet. Walking up the stairs, I winced with every step that echoed through the hall. There was no usual murmur of the TV, or conversation, and dread began to churn my stomach. It wasn’t even that late; still a few hours until midnight. My frown deepened. My apartment door was closed, and locked, when I reached it. Number Four. Entering my old key, I entered it into the keyhole above the brass handle, and twisted. A small block popped out of the wall beside me and I sighed. Not again.  Using my middle of finger on my right hand this time, my breath caught as a small needle stabbed into my fingertip. Snapping my hand back in pain, the door opened revealing a small lounge room.

            “Shellie?” I called gently. Nothing. That wasn’t right. She never slept when I was out. She always waited for me to come home. Always. Swallowing, I reached down, under my fraying pants, and pulled out a black gun. Click. The safety off, I entered the room. My heart began to pound against my chest. “Shellie…”

            There was no scene of an attack. No scene of a kidnapping. Nothing. Passing through the lounge room, I gently opened Shellie’s bedroom door. Every sound was loud in the heavy silence and I winced at the soft whining the door made. “Shellie?” Empty. Her bed made, clothes draws half open and cosmetic materials scattered across her desk, it seemed the usual. Pushing back my growing anxiety, I stepped away from the threshold. Where are you, Shellie?

            Walking to the back room where the kitchen was, I stiffened. A man stood in front of the glass walls, bathed in moonlight as he stared out at the dark, bustling city below. I raised my gun.

            “Where is my sister?” My voice came out strong and low. An order to obey.

The man didn’t turn away from the window. “Not here.”

            “S**t Sherlock, I noticed that. Where is she?”

            The man looked over his shoulder. “I already told you. Not here.”

            My hands tightened on my gun to stop their shaking. Already sweat sleeked my palms and my side burned from my earlier wound. Damn. “Tell me where she is.”

            “Now why would I do that?”

            “I’ll kill you if you don’t.”

            “Really? Because I was going to kill you...” Dry amusement tainted his voice and my breathing stopped. The man turned around and icy fear trickled down my neck.

            “Malcolf.”

            “I believe that is my name. Their names, however, are irrelevant.”

            “Whose na"” Launching forward, I spun around as four men appeared. I was outnumbered. The other men were a decoy, I realised. That was why they were so easy. They were sacrifices. It was all part of the plan.

            Malcolf chuckled and fixed the white cuffs of his shirt underneath his jacket. “Look at the wheels turning in your head. I take it you’ve figured out that capturing your sister was the real focus…”

            “Why? What are you going to do with her? What do you want?!”

            My aim kept shifting between all the demons surrounding me as I stepped back. The kitchen wall pressed up against my back and my breath caught. Cornered. Screwed was an understatement. Shellie... I’m sorry. I don’t think I can make this one… My eyes began to sting, but I clenched my jaw shut. I wasn’t going to die. I couldn’t. Not now. Not until Shellie was safe.

            “What do you want?” I repeated, forcing the words threw my teeth.

            “What do I want? I want you dead, that’s a start,” Malcolf noted and I swallowed.

            “And my sister?”
            “Her part will come.”

            “What do you mean?”
            Malcolf exhaled in annoyance. “Enough questions.” He waved his hand. “Deal with her.”

            The five demons surrounding me nodded. Their black eyes swelled and as I watched, red engulfed them. The colour of human blood.  Rouges.

            “I’m not going to die easily,” I muttered and Malcolf chuckled.

            “You’ll be surprised.”

            The first demon lunged forward, so fast, his movements were a blur. However, I had been trained for this. Trained to kill these b******s. My finger pulled the trigger. Bang. The gun shot back just as the bullet soared towards the demons pale face. Just as it was about to hit the man’s forehead, he tilted sidewards. A line of black blood spurted out from above his ear. A skim. I swore. He was fast, those feasting on human blood always were. But this was different. The man launched towards me, and I pulled the trigger again and again. Each bullet skimmed the edge of his limbs, barely biting into him. He was just too fast.  Swearing, I dropped the gun and pulled at the blades on the back of my thighs.

Too slow.

Author's Note

Due to copy and paste, I won't paste anymore of my stories on here besides the first chapter or so. If you wish to read more, check out my other accounts such as wattpad:
http://www.wattpad.com/story/1768304-a-soul-to-take-completed-querying