Percy knew he shouldn't be out walking in the dark.
Not because of running into any muggers or thugs or something; his mom knew that even at 12 years old, he was more than a match for any human attacker. Besides, he could see as well in the dark as if daylight had never fled. No, the reason was a bit more sinister than that: The damned came out to play in the dark, and they absolutely loved to play with Percy.
And even after three years, he still couldn't figure out why. Maybe they liked getting pummeled over and over by a kid half their size?
It was around 7 or 8 p.m., which during the autumn months meant the sky was basically as dark as it was going to get. Streetlights and storefront windows lit up everything around him, and throngs of people were out and about. Some were dressed for a fancy dinner; others just were teenagers messing around. It was crowded and noisy; in other words, no demon would dare attack him ― well, usually. A few were certainly bold enough to attack in crowds.
Head down, he zigged and zagged between people. His eyes darted back and forth between every corner. His muscles were tense, and he'd already donned his leather gloves in case something decided to try to attack him.
Just to set the record straight, he hadn't meant to be out so late. His mom was out working the late shift, and he just wanted to get a bit of fresh air and escape their empty apartment. He just hadn't bothered to keep track of the time, and well, now he's paying the price. Hopefully, stupidity won't charge him too much today.
He breathed out in relief as he saw a neighboring apartment complex a block or two in the distance. Almost home. Just a couple more buildings and ―
Ah crud. Spoke too soon.
Just as turned the corner, he felt a barrier sizzle shut behind him, preventing him from escaping. He whipped around and confirmed what he felt: a dark, shadowy wall blocked his path, not the crowded, jolly street he'd just left behind.
And behind him … His eyes widened.
There was no one here. No one. And it was completely dark. Storefronts, streetlights, even the full moon ― nothing. If he were a normal human, he wouldn't have been able to see his own hand, even raised a few inches in front of his face.
He knew this street. It was always crowded and noisy at night. Always. To see it now robbed of its joy and color … His heart began to beat like a drum. Muscles coiled, he grabbed his dagger, unsheathing it from its case and holding it steady in front of him.
He'd prefer a sword, but a demon-hunting sword was about the money needed to buy two blessed daggers, and Percy decided he'd rather his mother have protection over a sweet-looking sword. He'd get one once they found the money, though.
His gaze swept over his surroundings again. No ordinary demon could do this ― punch a hole through the fabric of reality, trap its prey and feast. He swallowed uneasily. He knew he shouldn't have gone out tonight.
He jolted as his senses suddenly began going haywire, and before he could even blink, a fistful of shadows erupted from the middle of the road. It kept growing, twisting and condensing into a veritable wall of darkness as tall as a department store. And as if that wasn't bad enough, the shadows then transformed into something that vaguely resembled a human body ― a large human body. It was at least 10 feet tall and towered over Percy like a giant.
Double crud …
As soon as the shadows hardened into muscle, eyes red as blood floated to the top of the creature's head, as if they'd been kept inside all along. No pupil, no iris ― just two menacing red pools that immediately zeroed in on him.
His heart skipped a beat.
But its weapon was the cherry on top. Arms as thick as two men's forearms rose in the air and manifested a gigantic scythe, probably at least seven feet tall. More than enough to turn Percy into mince meat.
Percy's fists clenched around the dagger, and he wondered how ridiculous he looked ― a kid going up against a giant twice his height with a tiny dagger it probably wouldn't even use as a toothpick.
But, he thought nervously, it's all I've got, so it'll have to do.
Would God smite him if he compared the both of them to David and Goliath?
The demon just stood there, for a second, staring at him. Sizing him up. And then it must have smelled him. Percy could feel a wave of euphoria and hunger vibrate throughout its essence. Shadows seemed to slink off of its body into the air, like noxious fumes escaping a coal plant.
And that's when it spoke.
"You smell powerful … human ... I shall enjoy … devouring you."
Percy shivered. Its voice sounded like the death cries of a thousand crickets, and it smelled like it, too. He felt the demon's aura trying to take hold in his flesh, in his mind. Steeling himself, he called upon the bubbling black energy in the pit of his stomach and expelled it outward.
The demon flinched and stopped, and Percy could feel the electrifying shock running through its shadowy nerves. He allowed himself a quick moment of satisfaction now that he was shaping up to be the underdog in this fight.
"You … are no human," its death-inducing voice snarled, crawling up Percy's skin like a throng of insects. He raised his scythe even higher, as if in challenge. "Just what are you?"
Percy took a deep breath, tightening his grip on his dagger. "Someone who's going to kick your ugly butt six ways to Sunday, Slender Man."
'Slender Man' seemed to disagree. And just when he felt the demon's anger flare, Percy moved.
He took off toward Slender Man, dagger by his side and feinted left before going right, trying to get behind the demon. But Slender Man saw through his feint and moved just as fast. It dodged Percy's thrust from behind and instead slinked up behind him, swinging its scythe in a downward slash and nearly bisecting Percy into two. At the last second, Percy whipped around, raised his left hand and formed a shield of dark energy.
Shoot, that was close, he thought, gritting his teeth as the scythe tried to pierce through his shield.
"Half-blood!" Slender Man roared. He must have sniffed him again.
Sweat began to bead at the top of Percy's forehead. Hissing, the demon tried to press his height advantage, but the shield held. Thank you, demonic strength.
He's strong and fast, a lot more than most other demons I've faced. He must be high in the food chain. But if I can't get close based on skill or strength alone, then I need a distraction―
He broke off that thought when Slender Man suddenly dissipated into the air.
Breathing heavily with narrowed eyes, Percy jumped to his feet and looked around to see where the demon had gone. His fingers twitched, and he felt something rapidly condense behind him.
Oh, sh―!
Dropping the shield, he quickly rolled away, just as the scythe slammed into the road behind him, ripping up the concrete where he once stood.
Yikes, he thought, looking at those chunks. Slender Man had just ripped a three-foot ditch into the road. He needed to think of something fast. He had plenty of stamina and could go for a while, but in an evenly matched fight, the longer the fight dragged on, the better Slender Man's position became. It was quite clear it didn't have any human limitations to worry about, not in its own private little shadow world.
Just as he dodged another swing, inspiration struck him. The concrete! He flipped out of the way as Slender Man attacked again and kept leading the demon back to the jagged concrete rubble. They decorated the street like animal guts ― and grew in number with every swing of Slender Man's scythe.
Sweat pouring down his face, Percy dodged and flipped over each attack, tagging a piece of rock with traces of his energy as he went. The demon hissed in frustration, and his swings became stronger, faster and wilder.
Eyes widening, Percy dropped to the ground as another strike nearly tore a hole in his chest. But that was exactly what the demon was waiting for.
Just as Percy hit the ground, Slender Man launched a powerful kick to Percy's side, sending him flying toward its latest pile of rubble. He gasped at the crippling pain radiating through his side, and that robbed him of a few precious seconds to strategize. It only doubled once his back landed on the rocks. Gasping for breath, he managed to roll over behind the pile and take a second's refuge.
"Come … come, little half-blood… come out…"
He shuddered. That sounded like something a pedophile would say.
He tried to catch his breath, but his back throbbed like hell. The throw hadn't been enough to break his back or crack his skin, but the impact was something else. Gritting his teeth, he sent a hefty part of his black energy to speed up his back's healing. He had to stop himself from moaning in relief once he felt the pain all but disappear.
Just in time, too, because he heard Slender Man rushing toward him. Swallowing his fear, he summoned his energy once more and disappeared in a flash of black lightning. He reappeared a few feet behind the demon seconds later.
All right, let's end this!
With a tired grin, he tugged on all of his tagged rocks and sent them flying at the demon. Surprised, the creature swung its scythe to redirect the volley, and just as momentum carried the scythe away, Percy ran at the demon, jumped, and threw his dagger at the creature's chest.
Before the demon could even blink, the dagger cut through its chest ― and earthly anchor ― like butter. Percy followed closely behind, toppling the giant to the ground and twisting the dagger into the demon's shadowy innards.
A cry, half agonized and half surprised, erupted from the creature's throat, and the sheer high pitch of it made Percy flinch. The scythe fell from the demon's limp claws and shattered on the ground. Quickly, Percy pulled his dagger out and staggered a few feet away.
The creature's body began to melt away, as if its shadows had suddenly destabilized. Little by little, they dissipated into thin air, their remains sinking down into the ground on their way back to Hell. The last thing to go was its blood-red eyes, which were calculating even in death ― or well, deportation, he supposed.
He waited a few seconds to see if Slender Man had any tricks up its sleeve ― or worse, had any friends ― but as the night began to settle, Percy finally sighed in relief and felt himself relax.
His limbs felt like jello, and his heart was threatening to beat itself outside of his chest. Percy shivered remembering those eyes. It was like they knew something … He shook his head. Perhaps some demons were just more graceful about defeat than others.
Little by little, the street slowly reverted back to normal, almost like a black quilt unravelling at the seams. The streetlights came back on, but store windows remained dark. He saw bodies on the sidewalk, almost all unconscious, and he knew it was time to get the hell up out of there before they all woke up and started pointing fingers.
He shifted his grip on the dagger, preparing to resheathe it, but as soon as he did, a hot fire seemed to ignite on the tips of his fingers. Suppressing a scream of his own, he dropped his dagger. Hot tears leaked out of his eyes as the pain radiated throughout his body, like an electric wave frying his nerve endings. He dropped to one knee, massaging his right hand and clenching his teeth.
And that's when he saw what happened.
The demon's toxic, melting body had seared several gaping holes into his right glove, and his dagger ― blessed by a priest and forged in holy water ― had touched his skin. His unholy skin. Several large red blisters glared angrily at him, and he knew it'd take them longer than usual to heal.
Breathing heavily, he reached down to pick up the dagger with his left hand, still gloved, and sheathed it. Then he just stared for a second. He swallowed a lump in his throat.
"Well, doesn't that just make you feel special," he grumbled sarcastically to himself.
He pushed back a wave of self-pity and loathing at the reminder of just what he was ― a son of the damned and damned himself. Even his own weapon knew it and spurned him for it.
Taking a shaky breath, he forced his legs to move. Time to get home. With luck, his mom wouldn't find out about this ― just like the hundreds of previous incidents that he'd been hiding from her. He didn't want her to worry and scrape the bottom of her bank account to move them across the city. Again. She already did that every time he was thrown out of another school. But moving every time a demon attacked him? They'd be moving every other week.
He felt himself relax somewhat as he typed in the code to the apartment complex and stepped into the lobby. Powerful demons usually didn't manifest inside buildings. Most of what they needed to form — heaps of shadows, piles of trash, bug nests, roadkill and wide open space — just wasn't available. For the smaller and less powerful demons, it was a whole other ballgame, but they were easier to deport back to Hell.
Still, demonic visits indoors were few and far inbetween, and those who came had to leave a large part of their power in Hell, unless they were drawing from some external source. Another reason why Mom had tried to keep him inside as much as possible. Normally, she'd just ward the apartment against demons with blessed crosses, but then she'd be warding the building against Percy. So they didn't couldn't even do that much.
Taking a calming breath, he quickly took off his gloves and stashed them into his pocket. He'd have to find a new pair soon or risk more blisters and welts. Well, or death… That blade could probably kill him just as easily as any other demon.
At the thought, the door opened with a bit more force than he'd meant to apply. Frantically, he checked the hinges — and breathed out a sigh of relief once he saw they were still attached. Rubbing his eyes, he stepped inside, tense. It was dark inside. Mom wasn't home yet. Good. He let his shoulders drop and headed toward the shower.
Time to make it look like he'd been here all along. Perhaps he could pretend he was just a normal 12-year-old boy for the night, too, and play some video games. He snorted to himself.
Now there's a pipe dream. He wasn't a normal 12-year-old boy, and he'd never be. That fantasy had flown out the window about four years ago when his mother told him the truth.
He used to be your average, ordinary kid — or at least that's what he thought. His mother kept him close; if he wasn't in school or playing after-school sports, he was at home with his mom.
He had a few friends, but not many, and they only hung out in school. His mom wouldn't let him go on playdates with other classmates, and he used to throw a fit over it. Now he knew why … and he grudgingly agreed. Even at that point, he had to work to look and act completely and utterly human. He could just imagine how his friends' parents would react if he nearly took their doors off their hinges.
Percy remembered everything pretty clearly — especially how much his life changed once he turned eight. That was the year his mother first told him his father's name…
"Sa-a-t-un?" he asked, screwing together his eyebrows. "That's a weird name. Why is that his name? Could he change it?"
Sally gave him a sad smile. "It wasn't always his name. He used to be called Lucifer Morningstar."
Percy frowned even harder. "That's even weirder." He giggled. "Why didn't he change his name to something cooler?"
Sally didn't laugh with him. She pursed her lips. Her gaze turned toward the floor. "He didn't choose to change it. It was given to him."
"Oh," Percy said. He was about to say something else, but the ice cream truck came swinging around the corner, playing its alluring jingle, and Percy was off.
A few months later, he found out just who his father was...
Percy didn't mean to knock over the woman, but she thought he did anyway.
He'd been running after a soccer ball and had got briefly distracted when he heard someone call his name behind him. He'd craned his neck back to look ― just for a second ― but it only took a second to crash into something hard.
He heard a choked gasp of surprise before a powerful thump rang in his ears. Percy threw his arms out to steady himself, trying not to topple over himself. As he regained his balance, he breathed a sigh of relief and peered down curiously at what he'd run into.
When he looked down, he saw a young woman collapsed on the ground, limbs splayed about like spaghetti noodles. She wore baggy jeans and a loose, beige blouse. Something shiny drew his attention to her chest, where he saw a silver cross necklace glinting in the sunlight.
She smelled like bread and sugar, though Percy didn't see either. Her face was as red as her hair, and she threw him a glare so fierce that he took a step back while wiping his sheepish smile from his face.
"S-sorry, lady. I wasn' looking where I was goin'," he stuttered out to her, hand rubbing the back of his head.
She scoffed and grumbled underneath her breath. She probably didn't think Percy would hear her, but he did.
"Devil child," he heard her mutter. "Beasts, all of them. This is why I don't want kids."
Percy blinked, head tilting in confusion. He knew he shouldn't have pushed her on it, but he couldn't recall what that word meant, and it sounded a lot like an insult.
With wide, childlike innocence, he asked, "Devil? What's that?"
For a second, the woman didn't say anything. She just stared at him, face blank with surprise.
"'What's―?' You don't know who the Devil is? Jesus, child. Has anyone taught you anything? He's the embodiment of evil. King of Hell. Ruler of the damned. Enemy of all humankind. This ring a bell at all?"
Percy frowned, blinking. Remembering what she'd called him, anger began swelling up in his chest. He clenched his fists. "Hey, I'm not a devil child!"
The woman's face twisted into a sneer as she pulled herself up and dusted off her clothes.
"Could have fooled me," she muttered darkly. "Only Satan's children would have such utter disregard for human beings."
Percy's face drained of all color, and he went as white as a sheet. "Wha-what did you say?" he whispered.
She threw him an annoyed look but didn't answer. Instead, she walked away toward the other end of the park. Percy felt weak in the knees, and before he realized it, he'd dropped to the ground. The soccer ball lay a few yards in front of him all but forgotten.
Her words echoed over and over in his head.
"King of Hell … Enemy of all humankind …"
When he got back home that day, he asked his mother if his father was the Devil.
Sally seized up in surprise, and nearly dropped her soup ladle on the ground. For a couple of seconds, she wouldn't look at him. But when she slowly looked into his eyes, all he could see was pity and sorrow. His chest tightened.
She took a shaky breath. Her eyes began to shine a little, as if tears were minutes away from escaping her eyes.
"Oh, Percy..."
When he was eight and a half, Percy tried to enter a church.
Snuggled between two drab office buildings, it had looked so beautiful. Two towers, white as marble and decorated with narrow rectangular windows, reached high into the sky. Their tips formed spirally points, and in between the two towers was a large, breathtaking rose window. Percy could only imagine how beautiful the church looked inside. He wanted to know and he wanted to know now.
He crossed the street and approached the central door, one of three along the church's façade. It was made of fine mahogany and the top of the doors curved into a triangular crest, almost like a tiara. But with each step he took, he began to feel hotter and hotter. He felt sweat pouring down his forehead, his back, his arms. He began to feel sicker than he ever had in his life. His hands shook, and spikes of pain prickled all along his body. He looked around to see if anyone else was experiencing something similar, but everyone else seemed fine.
He tried to ignore the heat and pain. Stepping up to the door, he reached for the handle. Just as he grasped it, he yelped in pain and immediately let go, stumbling back. Right before his eyes, a nasty welt formed on his right palm, where he'd touched the door. It was an angry red, like a scar, and seemed to warn him that more were to come.
That's when he realized.
As if someone turned on the light, he became hyperaware of his elven ears, his sharp canines and the black blood that sludged through his body. Tears pricked his eyes as he remembered just who he was, just what he was.
He took a step back from the church. Another, and then another. The pain began to lessen, even evaporate completely. He stared down at the sidewalk, devastated. The son of the Devil was not welcome in a house of God.
He was just about to turn around and leave when he heard someone approaching him. He tensed.
"Hey, kid, are you alright? That sounded like a nasty scream back there. Did the door shock you?"
His eyes widened and his heart began beating like a drum. It was a priest, dressed in black cassock. He wore a tab collar around his neck, and a cross necklace bounced on his chest with every step down he took.
Percy gulped. Was he here to kill him for trying to enter?
The priest must have noticed his discomfort and slowed his approach. "It's OK," he said, taking little steps forward. "I won't hurt you. I promise."
The priest's blue eyes bore down into Percy's, and he could sense the man's sincerity and generous love. Hesitating for a second longer, he finally nodded at the priest.
With a hint of relief, the priest bent down on his knees, took his injured hand and studied the welt. His brow furrowed and a frown marred his gentle features.
"That's a nasty wound you've got there, kid. Why don't you come inside the church and I'll help you clean it up?"
As soon as he said "inside the church," Percy froze up with terror. Frantically shaking his head, he stepped back, wrenching his arm out of the priest's hand.
Surprised, the priest just stared at him, slack-jawed. Percy should have just run at that point, but his legs wouldn't move. The priest studied him for a second, blue eyes swimming in worry.
"You don't want to go inside — is that it?" he asked, sounding a bit baffled.
Percy blinked before giving him a slow, weary nod. The priest raised an eyebrow, then sighed.
"OK. Let's compromise. You stay out here, and I'll go see if I can find something to take care of your wound."
Percy didn't know what "compromise" meant, but he nodded anyway. As long as he wasn't going inside. Though, he noticed with a spike of fear, it felt almost unbearably hot just to sit on the stairs leading up to the church.
Other people jetted across the sidewalk in front of him, rushing to and from work. He saw his class on the other side of the street, horsing around and making fools of themselves while Ms. Angela, an old maid who was nearly as blind as a bat, tried to teach that day's science lesson. He was tempted to go rejoin them. The wound would heal soon enough anyway.
Just as he was about to get up, he heard a couple of voices behind him. They sounded like they were his age, like they were in a class, too. He turned around. He saw six or seven kids huddled around another priest, older and thinner than the last. They were asking him questions about — he focused his senses — about religion and dinosaurs and people.
"Why did God create the world?"
"Oh, oh, oh! Were dinosaurs on Noah's Ark?"
"What does God look like?"
The priest had answers for every single question. Calmly and gently, he explained his answers with supreme confidence. Percy felt himself drawn in. Ignoring the heat searing his skin, he crept up the stairs, slowly but surely. The man noticed him out of the corner of his eye, and Percy saw his eyes twinkle.
He turned toward him just as Percy climbed another stair. With warm eyes and a kind smile, he asked, "Do you want to ask something, too, son?"
Percy nodded, almost shyly. "Yes, sir. Err…" He hesitated for a little bit, but when he saw concern began to creep up into the man's eyes, he stuttered out, "D-does God love bad people?"
The priest smiled at him. "Of course. God loves all people, all of His children, even sinners. He doesn't love what bad people do, but in all of His children, He sees the potential for good, for change."
Percy took a tiny step forward. Hope began to blossom in his chest.
"So he loves everyone no matter what?" he continued.
"Yes," the priest responded kindly. "Of course."
Percy hesitated for a second longer, but then asked what he really wanted to know.
"Even the son of the Devil?"
Surprise flitted across the man's eyes, and his jaw dropped slightly. He just seemed to stare at Percy for a second, and Percy could feel the confusion and sorrow battling each other inside of him. His stomach dropped. The man didn't have an answer. The heat spiked, making him flinch.
And just when the man opened his mouth to speak, Percy jumped up and ran away.
When Percy was eight and three quarters, a demon attacked him — and that's when his life took an irreversible change for the worse.
He was walking home from school when he first smelled it. It was an awful rotting smell that belonged in a graveyard, and he'd thought at first that an animal had simply died near him. It wasn't the first time he'd smelled roadkill. But then he heard something, too, a sweeping sound — like someone was dragging something along behind him or her.
He turned around to look and what he saw made his blood curdle. A few feet in front of him sat a cat, the ugliest, smelliest cat he'd ever seen. Its fur was knotted and covered in dry blood, and a gaping hole opened its empty, gutless stomach to the world. Its back legs were mangled, and that was what it was dragging along behind it. Red, chilling eyes stared at him with glee and an unnatural smile — like an evil version of the Cheshire Cat's smirk — twisted its face.
It looked like a walking corpse. Then with a jolt, Percy realized ― it was a walking corpse.
For a second, he was frozen in shock and could only stare. Surprise ― and a little bit of morbid fascination ― kept him rooted to the ground. He'd never seen anything like it in real life, only in the movies. Then a noise shook him from his trance. A voice … coming from the cat!
"You. It is you. The half-blood prince. I smell you. I recognize that blood," it had hissed, an awful grating sound that pierced his ears like nails on a chalkboard. Another sound erupted from its mouth, as if someone had put a chalkboard through a shredder. It took Percy a minute to realize that it was laughing.
"What good fortune," it cooed. "Time to go home, little prince. Leave these filthy mortals behind. Your father's waiting."
Percy's blood ran cold and he finally stirred into action. With little regard for any observers, he started running at full speed, hoping that the cat wouldn't be able to follow. But it did, and it was. In fact, it was gaining on him, even with two crushed legs.
Panicking, Percy picked up the pace and steered toward home. He didn't know what to do. Could you even kill demons? Maybe he could lock them out of the apartment!
He smashed through the lobby door and ran up the stairs, taking three at a time. He arrived at his apartment in record time and swung open the door, nearly taking it off its hinges.
"Mom!" he shouted. "Mom, where are you!"
Hearing the panic in his voice, his mom dropped everything and rushed to the door. Her heartbeat sounded like a freight train, and her eyes clouded with fear as soon as she saw the panic on her son's face.
"Percy," she said with a sense of urgency. "What happened?"
"Something's chasing me―"
Before Percy could finish, that same something crashed through the door, riding a river of splintered wood and dust that nearly struck Percy in the back. He dove to the floor just in time, hands covering his ears. The sound pierced Percy's ears like a sword, temporarily stunning him. Sally flinched in surprise and nearly tripped back.
And through the debris both mother and son saw the intruder ― the cat monster.
Sally's eyes widened. While Percy froze, she whipped into action, zipping back to the kitchen and grabbing a giant bottle of water. Ripping off the cap, she ran back to the room, and just as the demon lunged at Percy, she threw the open bottle at its face. A stream spilled out of the bottle and hit the cat's face dead on.
Shrieking in pain, the monster recoiled into the wall and left a nasty dent in the plaster. It began hissing, frothing, as its eyes began to glow a sinister red. Its face was half melted and still dripping little beads of poison onto the floor.
It crouched, getting ready to pounce on Sally, but before it could, she whipped out a silver crucifix from her back pocket and threw it with deadly precision. It hit the creature dead on in the chest, and with a scream of pain, the creature exploded into ethereal black flames. It was so quick that Percy wondered for a second whether he'd imagined it. But the look in his mother's eyes and the dent in the wall told him otherwise.
And suddenly, he felt his mother's arms pick him up and wrap tightly around him.
"Percy," she whispered into his hair. "Percy, are you OK? Did it hurt you?"
Dazed, Percy just shook his head and hugged his mother harder, though he let up when he heard her ribs protest.
"Your father's waiting."
He gave an involuntary shudder.
"What was that?" he asked, voice slightly muffled against Sally's blouse. He thought he knew, but if she said it … if she confirmed it, then …
Grim, his mother let go of him and studied his face.
"A demon, Percy," she said, sending a shard of ice through his veins. "I thought they'd wait a bit longer to start going after you, but … it seems I was wrong."
She swallowed and angry tears pricked at the corner of her eyes. "Listen, Percy, you're going to need to be prepared. They're ― they're never going to stop coming after you, so you're going to need to know how to protect yourself."
Percy took a deep breath. He didn't like the idea of ever seeing one of those things again. "But," he stuttered, "but how? What if I fail? What if they … they catch me?"
Sally's gaze hardened. She stayed silent for a moment before opening her mouth. "Then they'll―" Her mouth dried and she tried to swallow. "―they'll take you away from me."
And despite his fear, that was all the motivation Percy needed.
His mom ended up coming home around 8:30, about an hour after the demon had attacked Percy. He'd just gotten dressed when he heard her key unlocking the door. Quickly, he shoved his gloves under his mattress, along with the dagger he still needed to clean.
"Percy?"
His mom never shouted. She knew he'd hear her however she spoke with his "super sonic hearing," as she liked to joke.
"In my room!" he shouted back as he sloppily pulled the covers over his pillows. She entered his room about a minute later and gave him a beautiful smile.
"Are you hungry?" she asked. "We've got some pizza in the fridge."
He nodded and then winced as pain flared in his upper back. Sally's smile faded and her eyes filled with concern.
"What's wrong?"
Percy shook his head, grimacing. "Nothing. Just my back. It's been doing that for a few days."
Sally sobered and peered around the apartment. The curtains were closed, all windows locked.
"You can take them out if you want, Percy," she said. "There's no one here to see." When he didn't respond, she gave him a sad smile. "I'll go warm up the pizza."
Then she left.
He grimaced as another flare fired through his nerves. He took off his shirt. Standing in front of the mirror, he peered at his back. Two mounds of scarred flesh rose a few centimeters up just below his shoulder blades. They were slightly blackened, as if charred, and if he looked closely, he could tell they were a bit irritated. He bet falling into the rocks finally did it, finally broke the camel's back for him there.
A wave of loathing plowed through him. He didn't want to let them out. He didn't like what they symbolized, what they told everyone. But as another wave of pain slammed into him, he unconsciously let go, gasping and arching his back as two large things pierced through the mounds.
He took a few seconds to slow his breathing before looking up ― and glaring. Two large wings sprouted from his back and just about took up the entire room. The tips arched just over his head, and the tail feathers nearly touched the ground. Many feathers were black as shadow, but at least a quarter was tipped in gold while another was tipped in electric blue. They mixed together across his wingspan, almost like a hawk's wings.
His mother told him that the wings glistened in the light, probably from the gold accents. She also told him his father's wings were pure black, and only black. He took comfort in that, just knowing that in some ways, at least, he was and would always be different from that monster.
The feathers felt softer than silk and were just as sensitive as fingers, as he found out to his dismay. They were an angel's wings ― just blackened and spotted. Only one demon had an angel's wings, and if anyone in the know saw Percy like this, they'd know exactly who he was. That was why he tried to keep them hidden as best as he could.
But it seemed that he'd reached his limit today. He could retract them with his demonic energy for a few weeks at most before the pain became too much. But he figured he'd grow a tolerance over time. He'd have to if he wanted to survive in this world.
Grimacing at them one last time, he wrapped them around himself and walked to the kitchen, where his mom was pulling the pizza out of the oven.
She turned around and sucked in a soft breath at the sight of him, like she did nearly every time she saw him with his wings. They're beautiful, she'd tell him each and every time as she stroked his feathers, but he'd try to block it out. There was nothing beautiful about two blackened symbols of evil.
Feeling a bit self-conscious, he folded his wings behind his back, trying to make them look smaller. Sally watched him with amusement.
"You know, they're not done growing," she said, smiling as she set down a plate of pizza on the table in front of him.
Percy groaned. "How much bigger are they going to get?"
Sally laughed. "A few more feet at least ― just enough for you to fly comfortably, silly."
Percy made a face into his pizza. "Then it'll be even harder to hide them." Sally's smile grew a bit sad and the amusement died from her eyes.
Percy fidgeted. He felt a little guilty, knowing he'd caused it. With all the things his mother had done for him, all the sacrifices she'd made, the least he could do was put a smile on her face, and he couldn't even manage that.
"So, er," he started, searching around for a subject, "how was your day?"
The amusement trickled back as she guessed what he was trying to do. She began to tell him about the visitors her candy store saw today ― and the blue candy she'd brought him that night. She only ever started bringing him blue candy once he said it was his favorite color.
"And besides," she added, laughing, "no one else tends to grab the blue candy, so it's all yours."
When his mom went to bed with that same happy smile on her face, Percy felt a little bit better about his lot in life.
Too bad it wouldn't last.
He woke up feeling sick the next day ― something that never happened unless he tried to go to church. He groaned as he pushed himself up. He felt queasy, almost dizzy, and really, really tired as if something were sucking up all his energy.
But what really caught his attention was the monstrous throbbing from his hand. His right hand. At that realization, he sat straight up and checked out his hand. The red blisters from the dagger were gone as if they'd never existed ... but something else, something foreign, rested on his palm.
His blood chilled when he saw it ― a tattoo. A demon tattoo. It was small, about the size of his nail, and shaped like a pentagram in sloppy black ink. Each black line writhed around, as if alive, and he could feel them leeching off his demonic energy. He swallowed hard. This was not good. How did he get ― oh.
Slender Man … It must have tagged me before melting back to Hell. This is really not good.
Slender Man had hit him with a tracking mark, designed both to pinpoint its prey's location and drain enough energy to keep its prey from fighting back.
A tendril of fear snaked around his heart. He knew something was up. No demon gets deported with the equivalent of a smile. Slender Man would come back soon, and Percy would soon be too weak to stop it.
At that thought, he stumbled out of bed, grunting as his legs protested. He took a couple of steps forward before he tripped and landed on the ground with a large thump.
His eyes widened as he heard a light switch flicker on and quick footsteps beat the ground as if running. Oh no. Mom.
His door was wrenched open, and he heard a gasp. "Percy?" Her voice was frantic. "What happened? Are you alright?"
She knelt down beside him and helped him up onto the bed, checking him over for any wounds. He knew the exact moment when she saw the mark.
Her hands froze, her heart skipped a beat, and she looked at him in complete terror.
"Percy," she said, voice shaky, "did something happen last night? What didn't you tell me?"
For a second, Percy remained silent. Just as he opened his mouth to reply, a flare of pain erupted from his hand, leaving him gasping for breath.
"Percy," she said again with a sense of urgency he'd only ever heard a few times in his life. "Tell me. What happened?"
Her hands felt ice cold, and he heard her heartbeat thumping a mile a minute. Clenching his teeth at the pain and the fatigue, he opened his mouth and haltingly told her the story.
By the time he finished, she was as white as a sheet. "You should have told me last night. We would have left then."
Percy shook his head, frowning. "It wouldn't have made a difference. The demon still would have found us, and we'd still be freaking out."
Sally pursed her lips and her brows furrowed. "Is there any way to get rid of it? Did the other hunters ever tell you anything?"
Percy bit his lip, trying to remember, and finally shook his head. He felt his mom's panic explode even though she didn't show it. That was one thing he loved about his mom ― when things got bad, she didn't let the panic go to her head and she didn't start throwing out blame. She just moved on and tried to solve the problem.
"What about holy water?" she asked. "Would that wash it away?"
Percy flinched. "It'd wash me away, too," he grumbled.
Sally didn't laugh. Neither did he, in fact, as he saw the shadows begin to flare around them. Their eyes widened. They didn't have much time before it arrived. And Percy was in no shape to fight.
"I―I'll get my dagger," Sally said, making to stand up. Percy stopped her. "No," he told her, shaking his head. "It wouldn't matter. You need torun. He's too powerful for mortal hunters. He kept up with me last night."
Sally's lips pressed against each other until they turned white. "It's better than nothing at all," she finally said. "I'm not leaving you, and don't you dare suggest otherwise."
She left before he could get another word in and before he could try to beg her to run. His heart clenched painfully.
As the shadows flickered again, Percy let out a growl of frustration. You stupid idiot! he screamed at himself. Why did you have to go out last night! His mom was about to die, and it'd be all his fault.
He pressed his hands to his temples. Think. What could get rid of a tracker mark?
If he were completely human, that answer would be obvious, like his mom pointed out earlier: holy water. All he'd have to do is bathe in holy water and he'd be fine. But if he did that, he'd probably die, too, especially in his weakened state. He wanted to kick himself.
This was why the other hunters, all human, never mentioned any other remedy ― because it was obvious, and no human would ever be harmed by holy water. No one ever worked with a demon trying to fry his own kind.
He jolted as the shadows flickered a third time, and he began to hear a familiar hissing. Muscles taut, he forced himself to stand up, gritting his teeth as the mark greedily leeched on his energy, and pulled out his gloves. Putting the left glove on his right hand, he fumbled for his dagger and pulled it out. He promptly collapsed against the bed as the mark took even more from him.
Down, but not out, he told himself. With a grunt, he hauled himself onto his bed. Perhaps if he tried to fry the mark? He took off the glove and sent a tiny bolt of black lightning at the mark ― only to kick himself when the mark absorbed the energy and grew over his entire palm while he felt his reservoir deplete even further. He shoved his glove back on.
His mom returned at that moment with her own dagger and a couple of water guns loaded with holy water. A thin cross necklace encircled her neck, and a padded jacket protected her chest. Her hair glistened with water droplets under the light, too, and rivulets of holy water poured down the length of her body. Slender Man would get a nasty surprise if he tried to choke her.
He could see a flashlight strapped to her belt, too. Right ― a shadow demon. Forcing himself up, he went around turning on all the lights and lamps in his room. He didn't dare open the curtains in case others saw them.
Percy caught his mother's gaze. Her face was grim. He could sense the emotions broiling within her. She was ready to die for her son. Ready to die for a stupid mistake he'd made. He clenched his fists. There had to be something he could do! If only there were some demonic equivalent of holy water that he could use on himself and stop this mess―
He froze.
He turned to face his mom.
"Mom," he spoke, slowly. "I think I know a way out of this." He felt a shimmer of hope burst through her panic, and her grip tightened on her dagger.
"But," he paused, hesitating. "You're not going to like it. It's ― the fire. I can use the fire. I can burn it off."
Her knuckles turned white. She began shaking her head. "No. No, Percy. You can't. There's got to be something else. What if he feels them this time? What if ―" Her words choked off. "I can't lose you to him."
Mouth dry, Percy forged ahead. His hands shook. "It's the only option. Either I burn off the mark or we both die."
Her eyes were hard.
"No, Percy. There's got to be something else. What about your lightning?" she pressed on.
"Mom, I don't have the energy for―!"
He cut off as the shadows flickered a fourth time. He heard a whisper.
"Prey..."
Shuddering, he closed his eyes. "There's no time. I'm sorry, Mom."
Before she could get in a word edgewise, he pushed her away and stumbled to the opposite end of the room, where the flames couldn't touch her. Then he focused on the bubbling black mass of energy inside him and called.
… and called. And called again.
Nothing.
His eyes flew wide open. Dread seized him.
No, no, no―
He tried again. Nothing. Work! No matter how much he called, nothing answered back.
No ...
He didn't have the energy. Every time he built it up, Slender Man greedily sucked him dry. His wide, terrified eyes caught his mom's gaze, and at once, she understood. Her eyes grew sad, and watching it felt like a slap in the face. She raised her dagger and readied her bombs. She flashed him two fingers. He nodded with dread simmering in the pit of his stomach.
Just as he wrenched his eyes away, the shadows erupted from the walls and killed all the lights. There goes that plan. Before long, they began to condense into the humanoid demon from yesterday. He was so tall that he had to stoop, and his seven-foot scythe nearly scraped the ceiling. Percy's chest fluttered with fear.
This time, Percy could see a wide, inhuman smile that stretched across the entirety of the demon's face.
"Knock, knock," it hissed, and then laughed. "I shall have a grand time of ripping you to shreds, half-blood."
Quickly, Percy threw his dagger. It caught Slender Man in the shoulder, but it hadn't penetrated far enough to be a threat. His mom followed up, spraying Slender Man with holy water from behind. The demon roared and shrieked as it was hit on two fronts. Its body began to destabilize, shadows melting away like dry ice ― but then Percy lurched forward, choking out a pained gasp as he felt another portion of his energy leave him in huge sucking motion.
Once standing, he dropped to his knees, left hand threatening to bend under his body. Slender Man laughed as its body reformed, crushing the dagger in its shoulder like a toothpick. Percy gritted his teeth, trying to force himself to move.
Move, Perce, move! His legs ignored him.
And as the demon made to bring his scythe down on him, he could only watch with acute dread. But just before the scythe reached him, the demon let out a harrowing cry. Startled, it turned around ― and saw his mom.
It felt like someone had shoved a gaslight in his chest. "No!" he screamed. "Mom, run!"
But the stupid, brave woman didn't listen. She jumped out of the way just as the demon's scythe slashed toward her, throwing her dagger at its chest in a last-ditch effort. His heart just about leapt out of his chest when the demon dodged and went in for another slash.
"No!"
She had nowhere to run and nothing to defend herself. She was separated from her remaining weapons and trapped between a demon, a wall, and death. Time slowed, and Percy watched in horror as the demon's scythe edged closer and closer to the one person he loved more than life itself.
An anguished cry ripped out of Percy's throat, and in that moment he hated Slender Man like he'd never hated anything before.
And something clicked.
He felt something shift inside him, like a match lighting up. Ethereal blue flames erupted along his arms, caressing him like a long-lost lover. They glowed brighter and burned hotter with every angry thought Percy shoved out. In his anguish, his control over his wings faltered, and they, too, shot out and spread across the wall. His golden and blue accents began to glow, clearing away the demon's putrid aura. Percy didn't dare look at his mom; he felt her fear and anguish raging around her from the other side of the room.
The demon whipped around, and Percy could taste its shock as it took in the wings and the ethereal blue flames wrapping around his body.
It froze, and fear poured over it like an avalanche. "I-Impossible! No child of his has ever―"
Percy didn't even let it finish. The flames gathered into his palms. One burned away the mark; the other enveloped the demon.
As soon as the flames touched it, the demon let loose a bloodcurdling scream, worse than anything he'd ever heard in his life. Both Percy and Sally flinched. The flames seemed to consume its essence, eating it from the ground up and flattening it into nonexistence like a car crusher. Within a minute, it was all gone. Gone, gone, gone. Even the essence it'd once leaked into the air. The fire had lapped it all up.
Breathing heavily, Percy collapsed against the wall, nearly dinging up his wings. The fire sputtered out, taking the mark with it. The pressure lifted off of him, and the pain subsided, but his energy didn't return to him. If anything he felt weaker than before ― about as strong as a newborn kitten.
He let out a shaky breath.
He didn't know the flames could do that. Mom had told him stories; the hunters had told him stories, but to completely wipe something from existence … He shuddered. If he wasn't careful, one spark could wipe out something ― or, he thought with dread, someone ― and he'd have to live with that guilt for the rest of his life.
Now he understood why his mom didn't want him to use them. If that's the kind of power they held, what would his father do to him? Or worse, with him? He might take Percy away and turn him into a weapon; or he might just destroy him right off the bat to preserve his monopoly on the flames of destruction.
His mom had taken cover under the bed while the flames took care of the demon. She, too, looked shell-shocked. He could feel her fear and it made him want to puke. Was she afraid of him? His fists clenched. He couldn't blame her. He was afraid of himself.
Because the worst part of it all was that the flames felt good. He had reveled in them like a toasty blanket, and a part of him missed them now that they were gone. A well of shame threatened to burst out of him like a geyser.
He looked at the ground and didn't dare meet his mom's eyes as she crawled out from under the bed. He heard her flinch and recoil. The heat of the flames still lit the air. He screwed his eyes shut and took a deep breath.
"I-I'm sorry, Mom." It came out quiet and small, like a child apologizing for committing a wrong.
He heard her swallow, then take a deep breath. Her dagger clicked into its sheath, and he heard a rustle, like she was adjusting her clothes. He could sense her struggling to wrestle down her fear, and that just made him feel even worse.
"Percy." Her voice carried a slight tremble and nearly cracked, like her throat was dry. "Pack your things. We've got to go. Now. Only the essentials."
Still looking down, Percy nodded.
"Where?" His mouth felt dry.
He felt a brief flicker of wistfulness flare up. Startled, he looked up. His mother bore the barest trace of a smile, and her eyes grew misty.
"The beach. … To Montauk."
And that's a wrap. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Inspiration struck over break, and I finally had time to write. Note: Percy will be a year older by the time to heads to Camp Half Blood.
Please let me know if you all caught any mistakes. I edited this on my phone. Also, a disclaimer: I am not Catholic, so if that scene doesn't resonate with Catholic views, please let me know.