Chapter 1: Emily
"Checkmate." Deimos said tonelessly, knocking my piece from the board.
I stared at him incredulously. "You've got to be joking." I said. "I told you to let me win."
"Negative." He replied. "You merely begged me for a victory. It was not an order."
My eyes narrowed in his direction, my bangs falling from behind my ear and shielding my right eye, angry that my glare had no effect on him. I stole my black pieces from where they lay on his side of the table, and as I looked up to see if he would stop me, I saw one of his rare smiles flicker across his face. "Let's play again." I said impatiently, setting my players back in their squares.
"Play…again?" Deimos asked. He cocked his head to the side slightly; something he did when awaiting orders from me, and I took in his large red eyes, his ragged black hair.
"Fine. Screw it." I scattered my pieces with a wave of my hand before running my fingers through my filthy hair. We'd been wandering for days without a place to stay, since every town was either destroyed or demon-infested; it had been nearly impossible for us to find this place. It was, fortunately, in the middle or nowhere, yet there were still small groups of men scattered across the bar, their eyes leering down at me as they smiled in my direction. "I just want you to protect me for the night. Got it?"
"Positive." My companion's low, gravelly voice reassured me from across the table. "I will protect you."
Grateful, I pushed the remains of my drink over to him. He stared down at the cup for a moment, as if it was the first time he'd ever seen something like it, before he curled his inhumanly long fingers around the glass. He looked up at me with a pained expression, as if asking me for the answer of a question he didn't know.
"You're supposed to say 'thank you'." I said calmly.
For a moment, his forehead creased as he considered this. Then, slowly forming his lips around the words, he murmured, "Thank you?"
I nodded, smiling the best I could. "That's it." I encouraged. Then, to my surprise, Deimos reached out for me, running his long fingers down the length of my cheek.
"Thank you." He repeated. Then he lifted the mug up to his face as he had seen me do, taking a quick sip to sample the taste. That was the thing I loved about Deimos; even though he was not human, he acted much more polite than anyone I'd ever known. I never enjoyed anyone's company more, since he literally never left my sight.
And I never left his.
I rested my cheek on my fist, peering out across the bar and towards the counter. There was someone sitting there, a man around my age, and he wore a long red coat that swept along the dusty planks on the floor, completely swamping him so I could see none of his body from where I sat. He had black hair, the darkest shade I've ever seen, but before I could see any more a greasy-looking man stepped in front of me.
I looked up at him with narrowed eyes, now completely annoyed. "What the hell do you want?" I asked darkly. Beneath the table my hand was already inching towards the pocket of my large black trench coat, feeling for the smooth metal of one of my pistols.
"You." The man smiled the dirtiest smile I'd ever seen, and just as he began to reach for my arm, Deimos's hand shot out, grabbing the man's wrist in an iron grasp.
He recited the usual warning in a hollow, emotionless voice. "This foolishness ends now. If you proceed to touch her in any way I shall be forced to take action."
The man snickered, and I could suddenly hear more people laughing behind him. So he brought his whole group. I groaned inwardly. Lovely. Deimos is gonna have a blast.
"Really?" the man sneered. "What will you do, huh?" Once again, I saw the beginnings of a smile fly fleetingly across my companion's lips. Then, with a sickening crack, he broke the man's arm in two. The entire place went deathly quiet as the man stared, still not believing, as he began to process that he had been hurt. He doubled over, his knees giving out from beneath him, and he cried out in pain, blood spurting from the broken skin.
Not wanting any more attention, I stood; stepping over the man's crumpled form, and turned. "Come," I said, wagging my finger at my Guardian to complete the order. He came dutifully to my side. When I looked forwards again, I saw that the man at the counter still hadn't turned his head, hadn't even moved a muscle. But I could see that his shoulders were hunched, something I hadn't noticed before, and where his arms were placed on the wood I could see his fingers were fisted, muscles pulled tight as if he was angry about something.
I found myself wanting to say something to him, wanting to see his face. It was as if he was silently telling me to come. My legs were moving before I could stop them, already heading in his direction. My hand, which was still buried deep in my pocket, pulled the pistol out from its hiding place, and I prodded him in the back of the neck with the point. "Hey. Move." I found myself saying, my voice still sounding angry and impatient from the man before. I could hear other people yelling at me, shouting names at me, but it only took a moment for their voices to fade.
The man turned around, and I felt my heart stop. He could've been a demon, like Deimos, his face was so cold. His gray eyes held nothing, no clue to what he was or what he might be. He was pale, his face blank, and his mouth was pressed in a thin line, giving me a clear warning that he was more than just pissed off.
"What did you say?" he asked me softly, his quiet voice full of suppressed rage, as if he was almost sure he had heard me wrong.
"You heard me." I replied. "Move. I want your seat."
"There are plenty more." He continued on, indicating down the row. Now, instead of nothingness, I saw a spark of fury in his eyes.
"Yours." I repeated in a voice as soft as his, saying the word slowly as if he was a small child who couldn't understand. He was on his feet in a second, towering over me as he roughly grabbed me by the arm. I saw Deimos grab him by the throat, but the man merely tightened his grip so I wouldn't be able to shoot the gun in my fingers. He opened his mouth to say something, but the bartender interrupted him.
"You three are out. I don't want you messing things up any more than you already did." The man in the red coat slammed his glass against the counter, sending shattered fragments flying, before the three of us swept out the door. Once outside, darkness falling over us like a blanket, the man slammed me against the wall.
"I'm not afraid to kill you." He warned.
I could see Deimos's face, his eyes pleading me to give him an order to end this man's life. I shook my head. "Stand down, Deimos." I commanded. "I can do it."