Raised in Hell

SIX

We drive, me and the fox, for miles. Then it hits me. I can heal this fox. I lean two fingers over to the fox and rest them on her forehead. Her eyes shimmer a lucent purple. Then the bleeding stops. She stands up and looks at me.  The loving look in her eyes opens up some door within my soul I never knew. A door I hid away and denied existed. But suddenly it opens. However it has no affect. I still feel nothing. My soulless body that somehow houses a soul remains cold.

I stare back at her. My face a solemn straight face. I've hidden behind this face for years. But really behind it I want to smile, and cry and just live. Then the inner rage that always hits banishes my feelings and I pick up the fox. I reach for the handle in the middle of the front seats and pull it to park. I open the car door and step out. I slowly set down the fox on the cold grey cement.

"Go away. You'll be better off without me." I yell at it. She stares at me with those large amber eyes. Her huge triangular grey ears droop down. I feel like I've hurt her. I don't need this pity. I can't feel it though. But I want to. I want to feel it all, but the itching of pity is a mere graze against my scalp. My want is overcome with a true feeling. The one feeling I've always had. Rage. I begin to turn around to get back in the black truck. I feel a warm nudge on my leg. The feeling is so different from the chilly air, I instantly feel it.

I have some kind of urge and I abruptly reach to where the warmth spread. My finger tips reach the soft fur and flourish. The feeling. The feelings I wanted. Pity. Love. Happiness. They are real. At this moment I know. I crouch down and wrap my hands around the body of the animal. I lift her up and stare in her eyes.

Some unspoken bond forms and get back into the truck with her in my arms.  I gently place her on the nest I'd made before. I caress her soft fur and stare at her. A smile, long lost smile, one that actually means something forms on my face for this meaningless animal. But is she really that meaningless? No.

"I suppose if I'm gonna keep you, you need a name, right?" I say to her, even though I know she doesn't understand me.  However she raises her head from her nesting spot and stares at me. I quietly assume that means yes.

"How about, Shax. I mean it's a guy's name but he's a pretty bad ass demon."  She suddenly rises up and walks over to my arm. Her small head nudges against as though to say she agrees. She then goes back to her nest and lays down, still staring at me.

"Alright, Shax it is, or rather Shax you are." I say with an out-stretched smile still on my face. I pull the lever to Drive and we go.

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We turn into some random town, in some random state. The only information I know about our placement is we're some where in the United States.  There's a watery scent to the air as we drive about the town. At the edges it seems small, but the town suddenly reaches to great heights and becomes a city. I pass a sign is bold green. In slightly worn letters it spells out a less foreign word to me. Seattle. I smirk, remembering my poor old demon days. I spent a lot of time here. Mainly in a bar. A pretty spacial bar, if I remember correctly. But that was so many years ago. I still want to go there though.

"We're gonna take a detour," I say as I swerve into an empty alley. I slowly drive the car through the dirty brick walled hood. Bright graffiti glits off the dull walls. I know I'm in no danger , yet I speed out once I'm half way through. A dreary street of bars shows just as I exit the alley. They all look lonely and run down but one takes the cake. I swear, given another week, it's roof would fall down. The windows are clouded in and covered in dirt. A blinking neon sign dully signals the bar's name. The G-spot. As I near it I realize the sign actually read The Gathering spot, but the -athering's lights were out. The faulty sign somehow created a much more alluring and  attractive title. I pull in behind a black impala. Just as I reach for my handle a man opens the impala's door. Four people exit. Three men, and one small woman. Or perhaps she just looks small compared to one of the men's great height. I crank the window down a crack and take in the air. The stench of evil flies to my nostrils. It's quickly interrupted though. Angels. They're here. But not exactly. I smell the stench of not only one angel, but one and a half. A nephilim. A nephilim is here. The girl. She must be the nephilim. The man in the tan coat smells too deeply of angelic origin, and the others reek of human intent. Once they enter the bar a dull bell rings and I take that as my call to open the door. I follow the same path as they did to the bar's doors.  Shax follows intently behind me, trying out her healed legs. I open the door just as they turn the corner to a hidden room. I take in the scent of the lowly populated bar as I follow their foot steps. Whistles from gruff bikers protrude through my ears as I walk. I ignore them as my sensory filled body takes in everything else. The dusty countertops mix their smell with the air but a singular scent overruns any other smell, liquor or human. It would seem like a musky scent to any average human, in fact anything with any human origin. Even vampires would'nt be able to smell it. It's the scent of monsters. If you have enough gathered, they reek of evil. The same scent that lingered outside, only much more concentrated. It grows stronger as I reach the hidden room. I hear a series of mumbles and a slam before I enter the room.