The Impact (Book II)

Sector B

"Well, shit." I rested my hand on Belua's neck.

We had arrived in Sector B without too much trouble. Sectors A through G were where Optima Generals and the Demon King chose as their territory. The remaining sectors were governed by noble Generals. The higher up one would go through the sectors, the better the area and the more powerful the demons grew. Sector A was the Demon King's territory and Sector B happened to be...

[You didn't think to check to see if it was Tavor's sector before we came here?] Rayi groused.

It's rather difficult to do research while running from the damned angels, isn't it? I retorted, shuffling from foot to foot as I stood at the checkpoint.

What if he recognizes us? I touched the eyepatch that covered my half-changed eye, my other one permanently red. When I'd go out in public I would put it on, otherwise, I would easily be recognized as Mikayla's sister.

Demoness mothers clutched their young children, their clothes torn and ragged. Most of them came from Sector E like me. Refugees. Civilians caught in a war they wanted nothing to do with but couldn't help but constantly be caught in the middle of skirmishes. Some children were alone, looking around helplessly with dried tear tracks running down their cheeks.

The Amdusias family crest was on the bicep of each Royal Guard soldier as they barked guttural orders out to the refugees and each other. If we weren't moving fast enough, they would shove us, creating something akin to a domino effect as we all bumped into the demon in front of us. It was almost my turn. Belua caught my father's scent and gave a low growl. I whispered, "Calm," and he stopped.

Each soldier had a different type of weapon. Some had modernized weapons they had stolen from the human military when they attempted to put a stop to the quarreling. The humans were swiftly and harshly put back in their place as the inferior race and the fight in them died quickly as extinction fell upon them. Most soldiers preferred their own bare hands, it seemed, or perhaps their familiar form when it came to fighting. Either way, I was not inclined to find out the hard way how they fought.

"Next!" my father's baritone voice boomed.

Releasing the breath I didn't realize I had been holding, I stepped forward and held my arms out to the side as two soldiers pat me down. While they did so, Tavor stepped forward with a clipboard and a pen in his hand. As he loomed over me, I looked up at the face of my father, whom I hadn't seen in over two thousand years.

The last time I saw him, he was staring daggers at me in the arena where I was pitted against Will. It was all I could think of as I looked into his golden eyes.

He didn't look much different; his hair was still long and unbound, tucked behind his tapered ears. His sharp, angular face made the scars over his eyes look all the most severe. There were streaks of white starting at his temples in his hair, the only indication he had aged. If I remembered correctly, he was middle-aged for a demon, almost into his ten thousandth year. He was adorned in a high collar, black leather jacket that brushed his knees and buttoned once in the center just above his navel, revealing his strongly muscled torso. His pants were black as well and tucked into his thick-soled boots. To the side of his head was his General mask, which only covered the upper half of his face and was supposed to portray a horrified expression, the eye holes wide.

"Name and what sector you are coming from," he said, scrutinizing me.

"'m Morren. Sector E." I rasped, my voice as rough as sandpaper.

I lowered my arms when the soldier gestured for me to do so. His eyes dragged themselves over me before settling on Belua. Belua pressed his side against my hip and I felt him quiver. Rayi hissed, [He knows. How could he not recognize his own blood? Or that dog of yours?]

"It is not often any other than Optima have hellhounds," he commented.

"Found 'im among some debris. Took to me."

"Indeed. Sector E. That General did not care for his sector as well as he should have, given the angels decimated it in minutes. Most of these refugees seem to be from that sector. Remind me; what is the name of the General?"

[He knows!] Rayi insisted. Internally, I swatted her away. "General Jennuth."

Tavor rose a thin eyebrow at me. I steadily met his gaze and he gestured to my eyepatch. "What happened to your eye?"

"Got in a fight wit' one of them pigeons. Took me eye out 'fore I coulda blinked." I answered brusquely.

Finally, he stepped to the side and held his arm out. "Welcome to Sector B. May you find your stay here hospitable."

"Thank you, my lord." I bowed deeply and went on my way.

Before it was Sector B, Tavor's territory used to be a large city about half an hour away from Whitewood, which was now divided into Sectors B and C. I could remember the times Will and I took the kids into the city to go shopping or catch a movie. No longer.

[Now what?] Rayi whispered.

"We find a place to stay and I will make contact with Dust Cloud so I can let him know I'm alive."

The city was it was before, just devoid of the warmth of humans. The buildings stood in defiance of the fallen civilization. They possessed no vulnerable flesh but concrete and steel, not as timeless as the mountains that surrounded the city but able to outlast its creators by centuries. Torn banners hung over bridges with slogans no longer read. The market bustled with demons buying souls and wares. But, souls were becoming harder and harder to come by and demons were beginning to hunt Lesser Angels, who were rumored to possess souls.

Adjacent to the tenement building I chose was the clock tower, forever stuck at half past noon. The time this city fell to the Duke Tavor Amdusias and his legion. An incubus leered at me as I passed him in the hallway. He ducked his head in submission when Belua growled at him.

The apartment I chose was filthy. It consisted of two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a kitchen so small it was part of the living room. The wooden floorboards were horribly scuffed and stained with something that looked an awful lot like dried blood. The mattresses looked lumpy but I was more interested in whether or not the water still ran hot and the fridge still worked.

I threw my bag into one of the rooms and walked to the door. "Come, Belua."

He trotted after me. I could hear idle chatter coming from the thin walls, most of the conversations inane and not worth my time.

Outside, there weren't too many demons out and about. It was probably late. Royal Guards patrolled the streets, often walking together in groups of four. I heard the telltale shriek of a Deathstalker and a scream.

I cleared away from that area; Deathstalkers were Human-Turned-Demons who no longer looked humanoid. They often remained in their shapeshifting form until it turned into something...grotesque. They were not creatures to mess with. I wandered across the street.

It wasn't too hard to find an empty alleyway. It was narrow and just large enough for me to comfortably squeeze through.

"Guard," I told my hellhound. He sat at the mouth of the alley, his head turning as he listened.

Ducking behind a set of boxes, I reached down my shirt and withdrew a black communicator. I stood still, listening. All sounds came from a couple of blocks away. I turned it on, nearly wincing at the static sound erupting from it. One of Belua's ears flicked back for a moment.

"This is Closed Guardian," the melodious voice chimed.

The Angel of Communications, whose real name I would likely never find out, was always strangely chipper, given the current situation. I didn't think she would be a good fighter. She also had an odd habit of referring to herself in the third person.

"This is Corvus reporting. I am in Sector B, as in bagel. Inform Ether of my location." I said.

"Closed Guardian confirms Corvus is in Sector B. Are there any other messages Corvus would like Closed Guardian to pass on?" She asked amicably.

I swallowed back my desire to ask how my children and Will were doing. "No. Corvus out."

Shutting down the communicator I stuffed it back in my bra and got back to my feet. The bar had a whiskey sour with my name on it.