Alicia Coast

This story was written for a creative writing class in college. I have wanted to turn it into a short story series for a while now.

Jessie crept slowly through the cornfield behind the old farmhouse. She was careful not to alert the hounds standing guard on the porch. At the edge of the field, she knelt behind some stalks, allowing her dark clothing to blend in with the starless night. Her blonde hair was pulled tightly into a braid and tucked into her hood. It would be much less hassle if she had dark hair, but no matter how many times she dyed her hair, the color would fade in a matter of minutes.

“It’s part of the Gift,” Father Christi would say. It was his answer to everything that made her different.

Slowly, she pulled the crossbow off of her back and cocked it with a bolt, the hollowed tip filled with Holy Water. The protection charm Father O’Riley placed on her in Boise wouldn’t last long against the level two creatures and she had to be ready. It was her first hunt on her own after Father Christi died. There could be no mistakes this time. No one would be available to back her up. Father O’Riley’s charms were helpful, but he was too old to be sneaking around an old farmhouse in the middle of the night.

Once she got inside, she would have to focus all of her energy on the demons she was hunting. The hounds would have to go down first. They were the easiest to kill, but one wrong move and they alert the entire house before she was ready. Jessie was the only Hunter available. The closest backup was in Mexico, dealing with some level threes.

After the War, there were a lot more demons and a lot fewer Hunters. Jessie was good, but at 21 she wasn’t used to fighting on her own. Father Christi had been dead for six months, and she had been in the hospital for four. Father O’Riley had tried to keep her from going out, but she couldn’t stay in the Church knowing if it hadn’t been for her, Father Christi would still be alive.

Jessie had first arrived at the Church when she was five, a last resort after multiple failed foster homes. When the third home reported strange accidents, she was labeled a problem child and sent to the church’s home for special cases.

At ten, along with the six other children in the home, she began learning about the Hunters. Those few gifted individuals born to fight the monsters and demons that roamed the Earth. They learned about the Order, and that Father Christi and many of the priests around the world worked for a special organization created by Pope Nicholas III in 1289. They mostly helped lost spirits cross over, but after the War of Christmas 1993, they had to include demons as well.

“But that’s today,” Jessie had said. “December 21, that’s today. And I was born in 2012. The war was on my birthday?”

“Yes, my child.” Father Christi frowned. “You were born the day Lucifer opened the gates of Hell. You are the child of the prophecy.”

“What prophecy?” Jessie played with her rosary, her legs crossed.

“All in good time, my child.”

“What do you mean all in good time?” Father O’Riley jumped at her sudden raise in voice, nearly dropping his cake. Ten years of Father Christi taking mysterious trips, leaving her in the care of Father O’Riley without a word of what he was doing, had left her hungry for knowledge of the secrets her guardian had been keeping from her. Now that she started, she wanted to know everything. The demons were getting stronger, and she seemed to play a big role in whatever was going on. She was tired of only getting bits of information here and there. She didn’t want to wait, she wanted to fight.

After two years of training, Father Christi decided Jessie was ready for her first hunt, but he still hadn’t elaborated on her role in the war, or what the prophecy was.

“Remember Jessica, there are five levels of creatures: spirits, hounds, hybrids, black angels, and demons.” Father Christi counted each level on his fingers. The cross around his neck swayed with the motion of his body as he paced the room. Jessie’s first time assisting Father Christi on a hunt was approaching, and he wanted to make sure she was ready. “Each level has a series of five sub-levels. Usually these are just for further categorization, except with the black angels and the demons. In those cases, they represent the power each level holds. A level five black angel is more dangerous than a level one demon, and a level five demon is the most powerful of all. I pray you never have to face one alone.”

“If we’re only hunting demons, why should I care about the other levels?” Jessie asked as she scraped dirt out of her fingernails with the blade of her SEAL Pup. It had been a gift from Father Christi and the day of her inauguration into the Order. She never went without it.

Father Christi sighed. “You should know this by now. The demons will use the lower levels as guards. They’re easy to control and a perfect distraction as the demons ready themselves for a fight. We waste our ammo on the guards and don’t have enough for the target. That’s why we use the bolts first. It gives us a better chance.” Father Christi’s voice had sped up as he explained, once again, the importance of having as much information as possible.

“Okay, I get it. I just don’t see why I’ve had to wait so long.” Father Christi’s voice had sped up as he explained, once again, the importance of having as much information as possible.

“One day, I won’t be here to explain everything to you.” His voice was softer, fatherly. “There is a possibility of failure with every hunt, and I need to be sure I can count on you.”

“You can!” Jessie shouted. More calmly, she said, “I’m ready.”
“We’ll see.”

The Hell Hounds on the porch looked like normal Dobermans. Really, the only difference between them and a normal dog was the fact that they could only be seen by those they were about to kill, and Jessie. It was another part of the Gift. They were relatively easy to kill. If you were one on one, you could rip them apart.

But Holy Water was best when dealing with multiple. The tips of Jessie’s bolts were hollow so they could be filled with the blessed liquid. Once the bolt hit the hound, the water would be released, burning the creature from the inside as it quickly traveled through its veins. It would be dead within a matter of seconds.

It didn’t take Jessie long to take out the hounds. Once she was ready, she snapped one of the cornstalks and the hounds came running. She had scouted the house earlier and counted six hounds. Six bolts for six hounds as long as she didn’t miss. She never missed on low levels; it was a waste of ammo. The howls of the hounds alerted the demons inside the farmhouse. It was time for battle.

She started the Latin chant as soon as the level one demons had stepped foot on the porch. The exorcism wouldn’t kill them, but it would slow them down enough to allow her to stab them in the heart with the SEAL Pup sheathed at her waist. Its blade had been replaced with pure iron, a blessed pentagram was etched into both sides. Just as she expected, the demons stopped in their tracks. Jessie sprinted toward them and recited another Latin chant as she forced the blade between the ribcages of the angry demons. She watched as each demon was pulled back into Hell, then started toward the house. She had just stepped onto the porch when she heard a snarl from her left. In her peripheral vision, she saw a seventh hound creep around the far corner of the house. She reached for her crossbow and remembered she had only brought six bolts.

“Shit,” she muttered. “Christi would give me hell for that.”

The SEAL Pup in her hand was her only hope, but it would have to be a hit straight to the brain. She took one step toward the hound and was pounced on before her foot hit the ground. The hound and the hunter wrestled on the ground, each trying to obtain control over the other. Jessie cried out in pain as the hound sunk his razor sharp canines into her shoulder. The hound yelped as he jumped back, releasing her shoulder. The edges of its mouth looked burned and some of its teeth had fallen out. Jessie used this opportunity to make her move. In one swift motion, she stabbed her knife into the hound’s temple, pushed upward on the hilt and forced the massive corpse off of her. Free of her attacker, she quickly unzipped her jacket to examine the wound, and couldn’t believe what she saw. The holes made by the hound’s teeth were already healed, leaving behind a ring of brown scars on her pale shoulder.

“Well, isn’t that something?” The deep voice that came from behind her sent a shiver down her spine. It wasn’t just cold, I was mocking. She could practically hear the smirk on his face. When she turned around, a tall, dark-haired man was leaning against the porch railing. His dark eyes pierced into hers and she knew she had overstepped her training.

The level five demon stepped toward her, a red vapor radiating off of his body. Jessie tried to take a step back, but he grabbed her left wrist, pulling her toward him. He pulled her exposed skin into the light, revealing the shape of a pentagram in the middle of her forearm. The pink of the scars looked like they had been made a week earlier, not sixteen years.

“Hello, I’m Mason. I’ve been waiting for you, daughter of Michael.”

Jessie poked at the star on her forearm, trying to remember when it had happened. Father Christie told her she got it the night her mother died, but he didn’t tell her how. She didn’t even remember that night, or her mother, for that matter.
“What does it mean?” she asked Father Christi.
“It means you’re special. That you’re protected.”
“But how did I get it?”

“I’ll explain when you are older.” Father Christi always said that. He would give her vague answers to her questions and tell her everything would become clear after she was twenty-one. That’s when everything would come together and her true destiny would be revealed. Of course, it would have helped if he hadn’t died two weeks before her birthday. Not only did she have questions from when she was a kid that needed to be answered, but new questions started after midnight on her birthday.

The night she turned twenty-one, a lot of weird things started happening. First, was the nightmare. There was a fire and a woman screaming, while a man, surrounded in red vapor, stood in the door way. He dark eyes pierced through the smoke, as if he were staring into her soul. When she woke up her arm was burning. She looked at her scar and saw blood oozing out of it. Jumping out of bed, she ran to the bathroom in the back of her motel room to put toilet paper on it, cursing herself for not having bringing her first aid kit in from the car. She had ripped of a couple of squares and was about to place them on her arm when she noticed there was no blood. She pushed it off as part of her nightmare, but the weird stuff didn’t stop there.

A few days later, when she was closing in on the demons she was hunting, she noticed that certain people stood out to her. She no longer had to look for the signs that would indicate who was a demon and who was a human. The demons suddenly had an aura surrounding them; a colored vapor that indicated, not only that they were demons, but which level they were. Level ones gave off a white vapor, level twos, a blue vapor. Level threes were surrounded by a dark green, and level fours radiated a deep purple. It made her job a lot easier, to say the least.

“What do you mean, daughter of Michael?” Even as she asked, she remembered something she had overheard between Father Christi and another priest. They had mentioned a prophecy being fulfilled.

“The daughter of Michael will cleanse the earth.” The other priest had said. Could that be the prophecy? Is she the daughter of the archangel?

“Don’t tell me that idiot of a priest didn’t tell you.” Mason’s eyes twinkled with excitement; ivory teeth peaked through stretched lips. He pulled Jessie into the house by her numb wrist, barely noticing her protests. He pushed her into a chair in the dining room and sat next to her, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face, still holding a firm grip on her wrist. “Let me tell you a story.”

“Why don’t you just kill me?” Jessie’s voice quivered as she took in the red vapor surrounding her captor. She had no idea how to fight a level five demon.

“All in good time. Right now, I’m going to tell you about the night I killed your mother.” Jessie gasped. It was then that she realized she had seen him before. The red aura and piercing eyes. He was the demon from her dream.

“What are you talking about? My mother was killed by…”

“Lucifer?” Mason laughed. “Well, not exactly. Lucifer couldn’t be bothered by such a trivial task. He sent me instead.”

“Why did you kill my mother, and how do you know who I am?” She knew she shouldn’t be playing his game, that she should be figuring out her escape, but she had been waiting so long for answers, it was hard to pass up the chance.

“Because of you. I needed to kill you before you reached your twenty-first birthday. You’ve probably noticed by now that things have been a bit weird since that oh-so-important day. You are the daughter of an angel. But not just any old angel. You are the daughter of Michael, guardian of heaven, and God’s right-hand wing man.” Mason let go of Jessie’s wrist and leaned back with his elbows on the arms of his chairs, his fingers barely connected at the tips.

“That’s not possible.” Jessie could feel pins in her hand as the blood rushed back into it.

“Haven’t you ever heard of demigods? Hercules, Theseus? They weren’t the children of gods, but the children of angels. Each with special abilities that surpassed those of normal humans. Though they were not so lucky as to be born of the great Michael. No, you are unique. The child of the prophecy. Now that you are twenty-one, you have reached full maturity, which means no demon, black angel or any other silly creature can touch you. Well, none except me.”

“I don’t understand.” This was all too much. She couldn’t be the daughter of the archangel.

“Don’t you remember the hound? If he hadn’t let go, his whole mouth would have been burned to a crisp.”

Interesting, Jessie thought. But I still need to get out of here. “What makes you so special?” she said aloud.

“I’m a bit higher up than those weaklings. Though I wouldn’t say I’m completely exempt. Too much exposure to you does have its…drawbacks.” He lifted his left hand to reveal a number of tiny red blisters.

“That was from holding onto my wrist for a couple of minutes?”

“Now she’s getting it. So you understand why I couldn’t let you live?”

“But you didn’t kill me.” Jessie was beginning to regain her confidence. Mason was all talk, no action. She wondered if he just liked to hear his own voice.

“Yes, I’m getting to that.” His voice rose as he stood and began pacing around the room. “Michael found out my plan and warned your mother. He told her the spell that would protect you until your birthday, as long as you had that mark.” He pointed to the pentagram on her wrist. “Most people would draw it on, like a sort of tattoo, but not your mother. She burned it into your skin.”

“A permanent pentagram. Sounds like she was pretty smart,” Jessie sneered. She still couldn’t believe what she was hearing, but she would sort it out later. Father O’Riley would tell her the truth. He would have no excuses now.

“Look where that got her.” Mason turned to face Jessie. His eyes had completely blackened. “She may have been able to keep me away from you, but I still got her. And now, I have you. That spell ran out two weeks ago and you don’t have Father Christi to help you anymore. I will be rid of you once and for all, and with you out of the way, I can finally take my rightful place as ruler of man. I can’t kill an angel with magic, and the same goes for you, but I can touch you, and that’s good enough for me.”

Jessie looked frantically for a way to escape as Mason inched toward her. She saw a door to her right and jumped toward it, only to be thrown back against the wall. Mason was on her in a second, his hand tightly gripping her throat. She tried to push him off, but he was too strong. She needed to think fast before he crushed her throat.

“Crist-.” She couldn’t get the word out. Mason’s hold was too strong.

“Stupid girl. Those words don’t work on me,” he snarled. Dark spots began to form in the outer corners of Jessie’s eyes. She could feel the surrender of suffocation closing in.

“I don’t want to die,” she thought. Just as she was about to lose consciousness completely, a warmth began to flow from her chest. Soon her entire body heated as if by flame, and the grip on her neck released. When the black cleared from her vision, Jessie could see that Mason’s eyes had grown wide with fear.

“No,” Mason muttered. Then he shouted, a tremble in his voice. “It can’t be!”
Light began to shine from Mason’s skin. All over his body, cracks formed as more light broke through. Suddenly, bright beams of white burst out of him. Jessie threw her arms in front of her eyes as Mason’s screams sent chills down her spine. When she opened her eyes, a pile of ashes lay on the floor where Mason had been standing.

“What the hell!” She was shocked at the sound of her own voice. “I’ve gotta get out of here.”

Carefully, Jessie stepped around the ashes and moved toward the porch to gather her weapons. As she was pulling her SEAL Pup out of the hellhound’s skull, a light appeared in the doorway. Jessie spun on her heal, knife raised to her shoulder, ready to pounce.
“Don’t move or the next thing you see will be this knife in your jugular!” Jessie shouted as a man, or what looked like a man, stepped out of the light. The stranger held his hands up in calm surrender. “Who the hell are you?”

“I am Michael. I am here to help.”

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