Corson

Seizing the lower-level demon by its alligator-like tail, my talons slipped free from the backs of my hands to pierce its scaly, gray flesh. The demon grunted, but it was the only sound it made before I lifted it, spun it around, and smashed it against a tree trunk. His back broke with an audible crack, and the demon released a gurgled cry as its stubby arms flailed at the air.

Before the demon could begin to heal, I released the tail and sliced my talons across its neck. Purple blood spilled forth; clawed hands flew to its throat to try stifling the flow. Turning, the demon swung out its tail to knock me back, but I leapt over the tail and lashed out to slice its head the rest of the way from its shoulders.

I grinned down at the decapitated head when it hit the ground with a thud. I’d needed a good kill to distract me from the reason I’d taken this watch to begin with, and this demon had provided me with it, even if it had been a brief, rather boring fight.

Bending, I heaved the scaled body over my shoulder before lifting its head. I stalked deeper into the forest, away from the camp the human Wilders and my fellow demons were working to establish. I discarded the body far enough away from the camp that it wouldn’t attract the attention of other scavengers to our location.

With the body disposed of, I turned to head back toward the camp to resume my watch. I kept my senses honed to the world around me, searching for more enemies, as trees whipped by me in a blur. When I reached the tree I’d used to batter the lower-level demon against, I grabbed its trunk and propelled myself up it. Settling onto a branch, I kicked my feet back and forth as I surveyed the forest.

The tree I sat in towered over the ones surrounding it, but most of the other trees were about twenty feet high now. Some had grown taller, while a few others struggled to keep up.

Most of the trees that once grew here had been destroyed by the explosive force of the gateway into Hell opening, or the bombs the panicked humans released in the area afterward.

Like me and the other paliton demons who fought for Kobal, the rightful king of Hell against Lucifer, this tree was a survivor. It had somehow managed to remain alive in an area that became inhospitable to it in an instant, much like the humans who had survived here since the gateway opened. Wilders, those people termed themselves.

When it had been decided to send groups into the Wilds to eradicate what remained of Lucifer’s followers, Kobal had appointed Bale and me to lead the mission traveling the deepest into the Wilds in search of them, the craetons. Bale and I were the two demons who had worked with Kobal the longest, the two he trusted most, and we would not fail him.

Recently, Bale and I had discussed dividing our group but decided against it. Smaller groups moved faster and were less likely to attract attention. However, the larger group had numbers on its side and offered more protection to everyone in it. Both choices offered benefits and drawbacks, but all of us working together was the deadlier combination.

For the most part, I liked the Wilders. It was difficult not to like humans who spent their days plotting, hunting, and killing. I could relate to that way of thinking, it was how I’d spent most of my thirteen hundred years. There were a few who were assholes, but many would say that about me too. Most of them were friendly and accepted working with us with more ease than I’d anticipated from people who had spent the past fourteen years killing demons.

After the gateway opened, the Wilders chose to remain in these savage lands and away from the demons and humans residing at the wall. The Wilders deemed the people living at the wall, or on the other side of it, a civvy. It didn’t matter if those humans were trained soldiers or not; the Wilders thought they were all weak.

Ever since the gateway to Hell was closed two months ago, we’d been working with the Wilders. During that time, a few of them admitted to me that the chance to take a break from running, and the constant fear they lived with in the Wilds, was worth putting aside their animosity toward demons and civvies. No matter if they believed most civvies were just fodder for the demons in the Wilds, and the best kind of demon was a dead one, they agreed helping us was the best way to gain a better life for themselves.

Over the months, their distrust of us lessened and as word spread through the Wilders that they would be safe at the wall, more groups of them arrived to offer their help. Members of those groups found their way into civvy and demon beds, started to share their food with the civvies, and were teaching us some of their tricks. They kept some of their secrets carefully guarded, but as long as they didn’t hurt any of our group, or put us in unnecessary danger, they could keep their secrets.

If they got someone hurt or killed, I’d make them pay dearly for it before killing them.

Then there was Wren. The enigmatic woman who had led the first group of Wilders to the wall to speak with Kobal and strike a deal to help us, if we helped them. Despite the fact Kobal placed Bale and me in charge of this mission, Wren mostly refused to acknowledge my existence, which was unfortunate, because as much as I irritated her, she intrigued me.

I had no idea what it was about the woman, but I hadn’t been able to get her out of my head since first meeting her. However, flirting with her only made her retreat further from me. I’d never had to try with a woman before, or ever wanted to try, so I had no idea how to get her to warm up to me.

I’d taken this watch to get away from her after I’d found myself focused on her while she draped a small piece of canvas over two branches as she established her sleeping spot for later. The unusual jerkiness to her movements as she worked, confused me. She was normally all grace, but she’d been off somehow, and there was a sadness in her eyes that I’d never seen before. When I found myself contemplating pulling her into my arms to comfort her, I’d decided it was time to get away from her and clear my head.

She’d stab me if I tried to touch her, and I was not in the mood for holes in my body today.

Breaking a twig off the branch above me, I searched for any hint of an enemy within the shifting shadows of the forest while I absently chewed on the twig. To distract myself from thoughts of Wren, I tried to identify the different tree species around me.

When I’d lived in Hell, Earth and its people had fascinated me. I’d spent more time watching them than most demons did. I’d found their species annoying, but I also admired their resilience. Now that I lived on the human plane, I was determined to learn as much about it as I could. My human friend Erin had been teaching me the different plant and animal life, but without their leaves, I had a difficult time identifying the trees.

When my ass went numb from sitting, I pulled the twig from my mouth, tossed it aside, and shifted on the branch to find a more comfortable position. Rough bark broke away beneath me and landed with a soft clatter on the debris below. I kept my hearing, my most well-developed sense, attuned for any new noise as I broke another twig off and popped it in my mouth.

I should go back to the camp; I’d been out here longer than necessary for a watch. It was time for me to switch off with someone else, but I remained where I was. I’d had enough of people and demons for the day. And going back meant watching Wren avoid me.

A small step on the forest floor turned my head to the left, and the subtle crackle of a leaf caused my ears to twitch. The prickling of my skin told me who was nearby before I spotted Wren slipping through the trees.

She moved with the stealth of a wraith through the woods. Her normal grace had returned to replace her awkward movements from earlier. I’d come to learn that many of the Wilders were as at home in these woods as a squirrel, and Wren was no exception. Her time in the Wilds had honed her into a killing machine more lethal than many of the demons and coyotes who also resided in the forest.

Since leaving the wall behind to travel deeper into the Wilds, I’d watched Wren unleash her ability to destroy on more than a few unsuspecting demons and Hell creatures. I had to admit, though she relished killing my kind, I admired the way she did so and the precision with which she did it.

Crouched down, Wren crept through the woods inch by inch. I followed the direction of her gaze to a deer. She was so focused on the animal that she’d failed to notice me. I hadn’t believed this little mortal capable of missing anything, until now.

The deer kept its head down while it munched on foliage. Rising slightly, Wren lifted her bow as she moved. Without a sound, she reached over her back and pulled an arrow from her quiver. Like my talons, the bow and arrow seemed an extension of her as she nocked the arrow and pulled back the string.

The concentration on her face fascinated me as the sun spilling through the trees illuminated her striking features. Her brown pants hugged her long legs, rounded hips, and firm ass. Most Wilders were slim and honed from their lack of food and constant physical activity. Wren was no exception, but she also possessed curves, and her breasts would fit perfectly in my hands.

The deer still hadn't noticed her, or me, as it continued to eat. Lifting my feet, I perched them both on the limb I sat on, propped my elbows on my knees, and planted my chin in my palms to watch as Wren closed in on the animal. She was only thirty feet away from it, and the deer still had no idea she was there. Some demons, with their superior reflexes and strength, didn’t hunt as well as she did.

Wren released her arrow. The twang of the bowstring and the thud of the arrow hitting flesh spooked birds from the trees. The still shaking branches marked where the birds had perched as they took to the sky with a shrill protest. The deer hit the ground with a thump. From here, I could see the crimson stain of blood seeping across its pale, brown coat, but the blood flow stopped almost immediately as the arrow had pierced straight through its heart.

“Nice shot,” I called down to her.

In one fluid motion, Wren spun, pulled another arrow free, and lifted her bow to aim at my chest.