A Born Angel

Published on 19 June 2023 at 00:01

The born Angel Novels: the Kalista Chronicles, book 1

Content Warning and Possible Triggers

     A Born Angel is rated PG-13 for graphic violence, flashes of torture, familial abuse, depictions of death, and vulgar language. Talk of Past Traumas including imprisonment, death of a loved one, and separation from a parent.


Every Action has a consequence...

    Lashdanôke, the Hidden City was meant to be the perfect place for Preternaturals to live free of the animosity of the Human Race. As the Return to Earth approaches, unrest sets in as the perfect façade fades and one girl is thrust into the spotlight after a series of unfortunate events.

    Young Kalista Iliana Angelic is a straight-A student who does her best to stay out of trouble, but she has a knack for being in the wrong place at just the right time. When she agrees to spy on her sister for her mother, she ends up in the quarantined Death Demon Sector and her life is forever changed.


      “And the last order of business, Lashdanôke[1] is complete,” Ashton announced to the six members that were still on the Council of Fire and still speaking to him. We all looked up at him in shared confusion, except for Beelzebub, who was the grand architect of the Hidden City.

      We’d been talking about it and preparing for nearly two thousand years waiting for the prophesied ‘Threat to all Preternaturals and their descendants.’ That threat had reared its ugly head in the form of the Greeks, but that wasn’t the biggest news.

      “Beelzebub and I have drawn up a ward that will be placed on the gates of the city. When the last preter is inside and the gates shut, it will hide the city and slow down time for all inside. Two hundred years will pass here on Earth while one passes in the city and that will put us back on the proper timeline,” Ashton said. The crackling fire from the hearth was the only sound in the room as we stared at him like he was insane. I immediately saw the drawbacks to this new development and knew that his heart wasn’t in the right place.

      Cannon paced the floor at the opposite end of the table as he’d done in the last several meetings. His pacing had the rest of us on edge as he was the levelheaded voice of reason in this equation. We’d all tried to dissuade Ashton from this foolhardy course of action, but we never thought he’d figure out a way to do it. Cannon stopped pacing and turned to the table.

      “The prophecies won’t change if we don’t do this,” Cannon said. Alkyone sat forward and met his eyes.

      “Maybe this is the reason they are set the way they are,” she countered him. Being an heir to an Angel of Prophecy, she would know better than any of us. Other than Atropos who spoke the prophecy and was once again absent.

      “My mother has said that she agrees with Ashton. This is the course we should take,” Beelzebub, the youngest of our members said. I dipped my head to him, and all six pairs of eyes turned to me.

      “Dinari for your thoughts, Beryx,” Ashton said. As she assured me last time she visited, he could no longer read me. It was both a blessing and a curse. Whatever she’d done, it worked, and I was grateful for it now.

      “There are good reasons for and against it. It would keep the city from becoming overpopulated. It preserves the timeline—” I began.

      “And it seems selfish to keep the children stuck so young for so long. It will not end well,” Findibar interrupted. I looked at him across the table and dipped my head.

      “It won’t end well for some, but why not put it to a vote. Without Atropos present, we have seven members to decide,” I said. They looked at each other for a few moments and Findibar nodded, seconding my proposal.

      “I vote against,” he said, and Ashton stood.

      “All against,” he said, waiting. Alkyone, Findibar, and Cannon sounded off. I couldn’t. He made a good point, but because I knew it was a set moment in time, I would vote for it. It would happen so I wouldn’t buck fate.

      “All for.” The others responded, and I nodded. Findibar glared across the table as he stood to object.

      “That’s the vote then. Four to three. We will ward the City Gate, and it will be sealed the moment everyone is inside. You are all to be there. This meeting is adjourned,” Ashton said, not letting his brother get in a word edgewise. Findibar’s face contorted but Alkyone set her hand on his arm, and it relaxed. Findibar straightened the front of his tunic and bowed to the head of the Council.

      “For your sake, Lucifer,” Findibar said, calling Ashton by his first earthbound name. “I hope this doesn’t end in hellfire for you.”

      With that, the other members left, and I felt the familiar tug on the back of my mind that said she was back.


[1] Demoki: the Hidden City

Chapter One

      “Let’s get out of here. She’s as good as dead,” one of my attackers urged the others, pulling at the hulking arm of his Bull Demon friend. My entire body ached, and blood oozed from my open wounds. I watched them through half-closed eyelids as my entire body screamed in pain. One of them grabbed my wrists, while another grabbed my ankles, and they flung me across the alley. I landed half in a pile of garbage bags and half on the redbrick alleyway.

      I moaned as their footsteps echoed into the distance. I lay there, still as the dead, until the last echo died away, and I tried to crawl from the refuse. My bruised and broken limbs throbbed, my crushed vocal cords pulsated against my bruised throat, and my eyes burned with tears. I moaned as my muscles screamed in protest, but I refused to acknowledge any of it.

      I had to get free, had to survive. I moved an inch before my eyes drifted closed without warning, and I lay still against the cool bricks, fighting for every painful breath that passed my broken ribs.

I’m not sure how long I lay there before a single set of footsteps echoed down the alley. I forced my eyes open, and the world tilted to the left. I tried to push myself up and fell forward. The rough brick dug into the cuts of the skin they’d exposed as they sliced through my heavy leather corset and pants. The pain was enough for my vision to tunnel, and I cursed the demon spawn under my breath. 

      If I lived through this, I needed to learn to defend myself against Bull Demons. The world tilted to the right as a figure in a scarlet cloak stopped in the opening of the alley, and I breathed easier. Scarlet cloaks were only worn by the members of the Council of Spirit, the head of the Preternatural judicial system. The Council members patrolled the streets regularly with the City Guardians who wore cloaks in shades of grey.

      ‘Thank the Maker, help has arrived, but why is there only one of them?’ They always traveled in pairs while on patrol. Pain drove the thought away and a new one emerged. No one was supposed to travel this sector alone. I lifted my head and tried to speak, but my vocal cords wouldn’t vibrate. The being turned to leave and hope flickered.

      I laid my head on the brick and blood trickled from my scalp. The thought of possibly dying like this in an unknown alley on the wrong side of Lashdanôke flitted through my mind. It sent a rush of pure adrenaline into my system.

      I took a deep breath, ignoring my screaming muscles, and lifted my head again. My vision swam with black spots, but I managed to call out. I tried to say, “help me,” but the only sound to escape my lips was a low moan. They stopped again as the world leveled out and my vision cleared enough for me to see that the figure was male.

      As my healing fire burned through me, I was able to make out some of his features. He was tan with a muscular build from hours of manual labor and had dark brown hair neatly cut just above his ears. I couldn’t make out the rest of his features from so far away, but I felt his metaphysical presence as some of my powers returned. He was my stepfather, Justin Tragedy.

      He looked around the alley but didn’t see me until I laid my head down. He ran to me, footsteps sounding like thunder to my ruptured eardrums and aching head. He knelt by my head and brushed some of the matted ebony brown curls from my face.

      “Maker’s sake, what happened to you?”

      I focused on his dark, deep-set, amber brown eyes and couldn’t muster up a sarcastic remark. That was highly unlike me, but I’d never been in this much pain before. He pulled me into his arms, and I moaned as the pain tripled.

      The thought of him being alone passed through my mind again, but I was too grateful to dwell on it. I opened my mouth to voice my gratitude but all that came out were more moans. He glanced down at me as he walked toward the Court Sector that was in the middle of the city and concern creased his brow.

      “Shh, save your words for when you can speak properly,” he instructed, and I laid my head against his chest. Right now, I didn’t care where he took me or what happened. I was safe, and I could heal in peace.

chapter Two

      When I opened my eyes again, he was walking toward the courthouse. I cleared my throat and lifted my head from his chest as panic set in. The Courthouse was the last place I ever wanted to go.

      “Where are you taking me?” I asked, voice like sandpaper on a rough board. He looked down at me, and his eyes were darker than before.

Am I seeing things? What happened while my eyes were closed?

      “I’m taking you to my office. Last I knew, Larock was still at the Courthouse finishing his paperwork for the day. He’ll look you over, and we can sort this out,” he replied voice cold, implying my guilt. What had I done to deserve this? I struggled, but he held me tighter.

      “Calm down, Kalista.” He said, holding me a little tighter while trying not to hurt me. I continued to squirm, trying to get free. He stopped walking and pinned me against his body.

      “Do you want me to drop you?” he asked, and I stopped. I glared at him through swollen eyes and wished I hadn’t followed my sister and her friends when they left the Academy of Fire and Spirit this afternoon. He walked up the steps and inside the Courthouse without another word. Goosebumps danced across my skin as the strange sensation of dread I always felt in the Courthouse set in.

      “I have nothing to apologize for. You didn’t see anyone else almost dead in the alley. Why am I in trouble? I didn’t do anything wrong,” I rasped, my sore throat making my voice gravelly. He sat me on the stiff couch in his office, and I leaned back, trying to soothe the pain in my ribs. I thought about running but my left leg throbbed and would’ve given out, so I stayed sitting. I was healing, but it was a slower process than normal, and I hated that. Just when I needed my powers most, they would fizzle out on me.

      I didn’t need to be here. I needed to be at home where Makumae[1] could heal me. I’d been here a handful of times and each time I was in deep trouble for some reason or another. This time was no different. I was the victim, yet here I was, again.

      “Now that you have your voice back, tell me how it is that you ended up in the Blood Demon Sector,” he paused for an answer, but I kept my mouth shut. “The Council has restricted travel to that sector. Your mother and I told you kids to avoid it. Why were you there?” he asked, standing in front of his desk with his hands in the pockets of his pressed slacks. I slouched into the couch, limbs still impossibly heavy, and tried to understand the question.

      The Blood Demon sector… If the map I memorized our first year here was correct, I was five blocks from there when I lost sight of Allistasia and her friends.

      ‘Why would Ali go there?’ I pushed that thought away and decided the truth was the best option. If I lied, someone would drag the truth out of me sooner or later.

      “I was spying on Alli. Makumae wanted to know where she and her friends went after school. Allistasia wouldn’t tell her,” I croaked, trying not to sound pathetic or whiny. His eyebrows rose in question, and he stared me down. I held his gaze as he leaned on the front of his desk and crossed his arms over his chest.

      If I weren’t so used to it, it would have been intimidating. After ten years, I’d grown numb to his intimidation. Ten years and still they treat me like a child. I tried not to roll my eyes, but I don’t think it worked.

      When we entered the Hidden City, I was three years old and only a year passed here for every two hundred that passed on Earth. I would celebrate my thirteenth birthday this year. It is humiliating to have the body of a teenager and a mind that would rival Earth’s best philosophers. Yet they still treated me like a child.

      Justin turned his head to the door, disturbing my thoughts and I tried to turn my head, but it wouldn’t move. I sighed and moved my eyes but still couldn’t see what or who he was staring at.

      “Is spying for your mother the best you can come up with?” The familiar tenor voice of my uncle asked from the doorway. Larock Healer, Makumae’s older brother, strode into the office holding an ice pack in one hand.

      His red hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, showing off his warm amber eyes that matched his hair, and the freckles on his youthful face, which was half covered by a thickening growth of red beard. He slipped the ice pack into a fabric sleeve and held it out to me. I took it and gave a small painful nod of gratitude. I leaned back further and closed my eyes, gingerly placing the cold pack over the bruised and swollen left side of my face.

      “It’s not a story,” I sighed, and they stared, waiting for more. “Ask Aiden. He refused to follow them.” When they didn’t move, I groaned and tried to sit up. My muscles screamed at me to stop, and this time I listened.

      “If you don’t believe me, let me tell Makrana Stella. She’ll know if I’m lying,” I stated, slipping into a monotone rhythm. My eyes wanted to close again as Uncle Larock’s eyes wandered over me. Anyone else would have found it creepy, but I felt his Therakinesis like a warm blanket as he searched for broken bones and internal injuries.

      I opened my right eye so that I could watch them. Uncle Larock shook his head in feigned exasperation and his eyes darkened with wisdom. I knew that look all too well. I was in for a lecture, but I didn’t need another verbal lashing. Not after the one I’d gotten last week. Uncle Larock straightened his gray buttoned-down shirt and rolled up his sleeves.

      “Kalista, you have five broken ribs, a severely fractured leg, a mended collarbone, and a perfectly healed nose, along with a clean break in your wrist that healed almost a week ago. Would you like to change your story?” I shook my head, and he pressed on. “You can’t expect your twin to lie for you all the time. Did any of the girls see you?”


[1] Demoki: Beloved Mother

Chapter Three

      Uncle Larock sat next to Justin, and I tried not to roll my eyes. Was he being thick or was this just not my day? After being physically beaten by a gang of bloodthirsty demons, now I was going to be verbally beaten by my uncle, and Stepfather. This day could not get any worse.

      I wasn’t at fault. I was simply following Makumae’s instructions. It was a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. My head throbbed and spun as I tried to focus my good eye on them.

      My anger threatened to rise like an ocean of fire in my chest, but I pushed it down. My eye tried to close again, but I forced it open. If I was going to defend myself, I needed to stay calm and fight through the sleep that wanted to pull me under.

      “No, they didn’t see me. What kind of a spy would I be if they saw me?” I sank further into the couch and heaved a sigh as they exchanged worried looks. “I was instructed to follow and keep to the shadows,” I clarified. Voice slow and thick with sleep. I rested my spinning head on the top of the cushion behind me and took a deep breath. The pain in my head doubled, but I couldn’t summon enough strength to lift it again.

      Uncle Larock’s left eyebrow rose, and Justin’s eyebrows knit before they looked at each other. I let my eye close and cursed my bad luck.

      “And the truth falls on deaf ears,” I muttered under my breath and tried to focus. If I could project to Makumae, she could set them straight and heal me at the same time. The house was only two miles down the road but, with the pain distracting me, I didn’t know if I could project at all.

      “You found her in the Blood Demon Sector. I’m surprised she survived a beating from them,” Uncle Larock quipped, now focused on Justin. Had he said something, and I not heard it? That was ominous. One of those blows to my head must have caused permanent damage. I focused on raising my head and listened carefully.

      “Not exactly. I found her in a back alley just outside of the sector. I don’t know who beat her up, but it looks like their handiwork,” he noted, crossing his arms over his chest and staring over Uncle Larock’s shoulder as if seeing the scene again. “When I found her, she couldn’t talk or move, and she was barely breathing. She looked dead. I have to hand it to Ash. He must heal fast,” Justin joked. My ears perked up. No one talked about my father and hearing Justin refer to him warmly sent up a dozen red flags.

      “She is still here,” I dryly commented, and they turned to me with a start. A sad smile crossed Uncle Larock’s lips before he shook his head again. I let the ice numb my face as I waited for one of them to move or speak again, loathing the pounding in my skull.

      It was so loud, and I wished it would hurry up and heal. My head always took the longest to mend. Any other minor injury healed in minutes, broken bones took days or hours depending on how bad the break was, but my head took a week at least to be back to perfect working order.

      I watched them, trying to decide if I should jump up and hobble to the house to get her myself or yell at them for standing around debating when I obviously needed healing. It would be interesting to see if I could make it home before they noticed I was gone.

      A small voice in the back of my head warned me not to move, but I wasn’t so sure. I wasn’t in trouble, so I didn’t need to run, but I always seemed to be punished when I wasn’t in trouble. Irony was not my friend.

      They stood, and I eyed them warily. I wasn’t ready to defend myself or fight anyone. I needed rest not scrutinizing glares.

      “Kalista, you zoned out again. I can see some bruising on your cranium, but I don’t see a fracture from this angle,” Uncle Larock informed me, stepping to the couch. “I need you to lift your head again,” he paused, and I obeyed. He set one hand to my forehead, supporting my head as I leaned my whole body forward. “Did one of them kick you or were you tackled by a Bull Demon?” Uncle Larock joked, a smirk pulling the corner of his lips up.

      I didn’t laugh. It was too close to the truth. Bull Demons were huge beast-like monstrosities made wholly of muscles. Their biceps were bigger than my waist, their legs were twice that size, and the runts were ten feet tall. I rested against his hand and pain coursed through my body like it was the only thing pumping my blood.

      “Both,” I cringed, and he set his free hand on the back of my neck. “I didn’t see everyone that attacked me, but a Bull Demon charged me. It cornered me in the alley where Justin found me. Its friends joined it, before the real beating began,” I croaked. I shuddered remembering the crunching of my bones. That shudder caused pain to rack my body. I cried out, and they sprang into action. While I writhed on the couch, Justin jumped to my side helping Uncle Larock hold me still.

      “You need to lie down. We don’t want you hurting yourself more,” Uncle Larock offered in his doctor voice. It was usually all cold and professional, but this time it was tainted with concern, and it told me what he wasn’t saying. I was very lucky to be alive.

      They helped me turn, and Justin picked my legs up and set them on the couch. When I started to set my head down, Uncle Larock stopped me with his hand to my neck.

      “Kali, you’re bleeding.”

Chapter Four

      His surprised whisper didn’t faze me. It was a gross understatement. I had multiple wounds that were still bleeding, along with more bruises than I could count, and all over my broken bones throbbed. Of course, I was bleeding. Makumae would throw a fit when she saw me.

      “No shit, Sherlock! I thought my head was spinning because the world found a merry-go-round,” I sassed without thinking. I didn’t enjoy being fragile and being wounded made me cranky. Both were at the top of my “use sarcasm if” list. The other things on that list were being attacked, someone dying, and being forcibly admitted to an Asylum.

      “This isn’t the time to be a smart ass, Kalista,” Justin reprimanded me, barely keeping his voice down. I stared up into his brown eyes and blinked for a few minutes.

      Justin didn’t swear unless something was horribly wrong, and he couldn’t fix it. Judging by the ashen hue of his face, the situation had just gone to Valkarah[1] in a handbasket. Worry lines creased his forehead, a frown thinned his lips, and the tick in his jaw flared to life.

      “Justin, either calm down or get out,” Uncle Larock shot at him while grabbing a towel from his med kit. “She didn’t mean anything by it. Sarcasm is as natural as breathing to her. It means her brain is still functioning properly.”

      Justin’s anger turned to concern as Uncle Larock turned my head toward the wall.

      “She gets that from her— Run home and send Anna, quickly!” He ordered unable to finish the thought. Justin didn’t think to argue, he ran out without so much as a reply. Uncle Larock turned my head back to his and switched hands. I kept my eyes on his as fear gripped me.

      “Kalista, Esca’Troikas[2], you need to stay awake and calm,” he soothed my nerves. I gingerly nodded as I tried to remain calm.

      ‘Is the injury that bad? Did Uncle Larock just call me sweetheart in Demoki?’ I didn’t know that he remembered the Angelic language let alone spoke it so casually. Didn’t he just say that I didn’t have a cranial fracture, or did I dream that? He slowly let me lay back, and I watched his face, but his aura was so filled with white fear that it blurred his features.

      “Kalista Iliana, talk to me while we wait. I need to know you’re still conscious,” His voice was steady, but his fear confirmed my suspicions. I lived through yet another near-death experience.

      “What do you want me to say? Not five minutes ago you said that I didn’t have a fractured skull. I assumed I was fine, and the dizziness was due to blood loss,” I rushed in a panic. My hands shook, my heartbeat thrummed in my ears, and my words came out too fast for even me to understand them or maybe that was because my ears were ringing. I despised the physical cues that reminded me just how injured I was. My entire body tensed at the thought, and I refused to relax as black spots speckled my vision.

      “Try to stay calm, Kalista. Breathe deeply, in through your nose and out through your mouth,” he instructed, and I shifted then winced. “But don’t move more than that. Anna’s coming. She’ll heal you, and then we can all go home. Just stay still for a few minutes,” he continued voice shaking but precise and far too careful. It was easy for him to bark orders, but calm was impossible.

      If I was too calm, I was likely to fall asleep. If I fell asleep, I might not wake up in the land of the living. If I was too tense, I’d pass out, which led to not waking up again. Wasn’t there supposed to be a happy medium?

      “I’d calm down if I knew why you’re so worried.” I glanced at his face without turning my head, and his eyes were on the back of my head. I rested my torso against the couch and whimpered at the pain it caused. Everything hurt.

      “Please, tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been a doctor for longer than I’ve been alive. Haven’t you seen it all?” I asked, wanting to know just how bad they’d kicked my skull in.

      Information was power, and I needed some. I needed to concentrate on something to keep the black spots away. I glanced at him again, but that caused the black spots to reappear. I stared up at the ceiling and focused on a particularly strange looking blackspot. I could almost make out a face, but when I blinked, it was gone. Uncle Larock shifted, and I refused to look at him again.

      “I was wrong earlier. It isn’t cranial bruising. Your skull is fractured, and you’re bleeding out. I’m holding a rag to the back of your head. Can’t you feel it?” he asked without taking a breath.


[1] Demoki: Hell

[2] Demoki: Sweetheart

Chapter Five

      My eyes widened, and adrenaline dumped into my system, banishing the black spots.

      “I thought I was resting against the couch,” I said. Those idiots had cracked my head open. No wonder they left in such a hurry.

      Hades, I couldn’t feel a cursed thing and my pain was dissipating. If I lost that much blood, I might be out cold when Makumae arrived. That was a problem. I clenched my hands around one of the pillows as an army of black spots ate the edges of my vision and tears burned my eyes. No, I would not pass out.

      “I can’t feel anything. Uncle Rock, I-I’m seeing spots,” I confessed, voice shaking as shock set it and the tips of my fingers tingled. My mind refused to function, and I couldn’t think of anything more to say. He set his free hand on my shoulder, and I slowly shifted my eyes to see his face. His amber eyes were wide with fear that mirrored my own and he pushed some stray strands of his shoulder-length ginger red hair behind his ear.

      “How about you finish laying down? Roll onto your side,” he instructed, and I fought to stay conscious. ‘Where is Anna? She should have been here by now.’ His thoughts echoed through my mind. His instincts urged him to run out into the hall and see if she were coming, but his fear forced him to stay and help me remain conscious.

      I ran his words over in my head before I understood them. Of course, I needed to lay on my side. I don’t want to get blood all over the couch. On second thought, it was probably a moot point since I set the back of my head on it earlier.

      I laid down on my side, facing the back of the couch so that he could see the wound, and I grabbed onto the cushion. A gasp escaped his lips and I cringed.

      “Keep talking to me.” He instructed, and I bit my lip to keep from screaming. I took a deep breath, then another before I could think clearly.

      “You didn’t answer my first question. What do you want me to talk about? I can’t think let alone carry on a logical conversation,” I debated, trying to keep my eyes open. When Justin found me, I was minutes away from a coma, and apparently that hadn’t changed.

      “I don’t care what you talk about. Just keep talking,” he clarified in a serious, concerned, and yet slightly frustrated tone. That was the wrong answer. There were so many things I could say that he wouldn’t want to hear, and they were the only things that came to mind. My brain-to-mouth filter disengaged, and my carefully placed barriers dropped.

      “Fine. Let’s talk.” I took another deep breath and let years of frustration boil over. “Everyone seems to think that I get into trouble for the fun of it. They think I’m some no-good Dakata[1] that will never amount to anything,” I stated my innermost thoughts as tears sprang from my eyes. The tension in the air was thick enough to choke me, but I refused to stop.

      “I don’t see why everyone hates me. It can’t just be because I’m Packana’s[2] daughter.” I paused only to breathe, and he didn’t stop me. “He is a good man. He’s never cross with me, and I never saw him mistreat anyone. Sure, he can be brutal, but the punishment fits the crime. The Council does the same thing on a regular basis,” I rambled, switching topics. A warm presence entered the room, but I was too emotionally invested in the conversation to keep my mouth shut.

      “And another thing, this whole arrangement where we all live in one place and have everything provided for us is shit. It breeds contempt and fighting because everyone wants bigger and better than what their neighbors have even though they can’t get it,” I continued my rant, hoping that the other person in the room would speak, but neither spoke. My anger burned, keeping me awake as I dug my nails into the cushion.

      “What’s with the silent treatment? You wanted me to talk. Conversation is a two-way street,” I quoted my Makrana’s[3] usual riot act. I was being ignored, and I would not let that slide, not today. I started to roll over, but a soft female hand touched my ribcage through one of the holes in my shirt and corset.

      I stopped and breathed a sigh of relief when Makumae’s bright, healing fire pushed through me. A green hue covered everything, and my muscles relaxed in the warmth of her fire, letting it comfort me like a warm blanket.

      “Keætæ[4], don’t move,” Makumae instructed. I obeyed, unsure how much longer I could keep my eyes open. Her very presence relaxed my mind and sleep beckoned. Then without warning, I snapped back to the reason I was here.

      “Did you ask her?” I asked. I needed to know I was cleared of guilt. I didn’t want to be punished for doing what she asked. I was already beaten half to death by a gang of demons and needed outside healing where I hadn’t before. I’d managed to heal the few broken bones I’d received without anyone’s help.

      I recalled what Uncle Larock said about an already healed broken arm and kicked myself for forgetting about my fall last week. I’d broken both bones in my arm after being accidentally pushed out a second-story window at school. I hadn’t reported it, and I wasn’t aware that the break was bad. I simply healed it and moved on, like I did every other time I was bullied.

      “Yes, he did ask me, and I set him straight,” She reassured me since he seemed speechless. “I’m almost done, Keætæ. When you’re healed, we’re going straight home, and I’m going to have a long talk with your sister.”

      My face paled at the thought, and I was glad that I was facing the wall. I didn’t need them to panic again.

      “Please, you can’t do that. She’ll hurt me worse than those demons did,” I begged not wanting to be on the wrong end of Allistasia’s anger. Makumae’s fire receded, and I sat bolt upright feeling no pain at all. My head spun, and everything went pitch black.


[1] Demoki: Devil’s Spawn

[2] Demoki: Beloved Father

[3] Demoki: Grandmother

[4] Demoki: Princess

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