Hand of the Goddess ✔️

Chapter 11: Alive

She opens her eyes, hoping to find the demon dead on the classroom floor. Instead, she sees Aaron staring at her, the bullet caught between his fingers. He almost looked disappointed.

"Ladies know better than to kill men trying to help them," he said.

"Well you're not a man," she said, firing another bullet. He dodges the shot this time, his face calm as if he had anticipated this. The bullet hits the board, leaving hairline cracks.

"Then what am I?" They stare at each other, neither willing to back down.

She fired another bullet at him in response. He sighs, smacking the bullet out the window, causing the glass to shatter. She's surprised that no one has investigated the study room yet. They were causing quite the racket.

"Who sent you?" the butler asks, attempting another line of questioning. "Whatever they promised you, I can say with absolute certainty that they won't deliver whatever it is you want from them."

"Stay still so I can kill you!" she yells. Aaron was starting to piss her off, but she was also growing more desperate with every shot.

"You think a gun will kill me?" he said.

"This is a special gun," she said, "for special creatures like you." A gun that at the moment, wasn't working.

"Is that so? I guess you're just a poor marksman, then. I can tell by the way you're holding your weapon that you've never shot a gun a day in your life," he said.

She bristles at the remark. "Oh shut up, demon scum. You deserve death for what you did." She fires another shot at him. This time, he lets the bullet hit him, all while holding eye contact.

"So that's what you think I am. A demon." He spits out the bullet, letting it fall to the ground with a clink. Her face pales, all the color draining out of it. Was there no way to kill him? No way back home? The faces of her family members flash before her eyes. Her mom, her sister - and who could forget her cat, Jessie, with cancer in his lungs? Would she ever see them again?

Suddenly, it was very hard for her to breathe. She lets the gun fall from her hands and curls up in her seat, pulling her legs toward her body. Fluorescent pink stars twinkle in her vision, her head getting dizzy. Oh god, was she about to faint? Not like her mental health mattered anyway. What was the point in being conscious if she was never going home again?

"Nicole," Aaron said, grabbing her shoulders. "Breathe. Follow my lead. Inhale, exhale. Deep breaths."

"I can't," she said, hot tears streaming down her cheeks. All thoughts of killing him abandoned her. "The air won't go in my lungs."

"Follow my lead," he repeated. "Inhale," he said, demonstrating a deep inhale. "I'm not letting go of this breath until you inhale with me."

She takes a deep breath, mimicking his inhale and sucking the air into her lungs. She shakes a bit, trying to get a hold of herself.

"Now exhale," he said, letting go of his breath. She releases her breath. After a few more breathing exercises, her vision starts to clear. But the tears wouldn't stop coming. She tries to focus on the weight of Aaron's hands on her shoulders, the hardness of her wooden chair - anything that wasn't the panic in her brain.

The butler hands her a handkerchief, respectfully choosing not to comment on her endless stream of tears. He lets her sob into his shoulder, patting her back. They stay like that for a while, her crying and him consoling.

It occurs to Nicole that for a cold demon, Aaron actually had a warm heart. But then she remembered why she was here and what he had done. How could a killer pretend to be so kind? Yet it didn't seem like he was faking his kindness.