The Captivator

Chapter 1

  It’s obvious he means me harm. There is no choice but to battle now and ask questions later, even though my mind is swimming in confusion, thoughts wild and frantic. Get a grip, and take him down. You’re not dying tonight, that’s for sure. I take inventory and immediately begin to sweat nervously. The Captivator is fully armed, like he should be for a dangerous demon hunt, and all I have is my dagger and rod. Wielding his rod in his left hand and a 12 inch, perfectly polished, Hell-crafted blade, nefariously gleaming in the low street lights, he is a fearsome figure. He also caries at least six or seven more blades strapped to various places on his body. Not to mention, he has over a foot on me in height, at least 60 pounds in weight, and my head is howling in agony (hopefully just a really bad bruise). I’m average height for a girl my age, about 5’4”, and have a lean, muscular build like all Captivators must. But instead of having the lean, almost lanky look of most Captivators, the man in front of me seems massive, his muscles bulging through his shirt.

Obviously, I don't stand much of a chance if I wanted to take him down in direct combat. Plan B then… I was hoping it wouldn’t have to come to this. I can summon one of my demons, but like I said earlier, there’s no guarantee they’ll help, although technically I should have the power to make them. But I’ve never been allowed to practice for too long controlling them and I doubt could keep their demonic beings under control, even for a few seconds. But if one of my demons decided to help, the battle would surely end quickly. Demons, without an angel to cancel out their power, are very dangerous and most certainly lethal in battle. It’s the only option; Jared would have to understand.

I look down at my rod, two marbles of light enraptured in it. One a dark purple, the other a zany blue, they twinkle as if laughing at me and my problematic predicament.

The bright blue light contains fifteen year old Jeremiah. He always appears as a strong, but silent type to me, with a very tall but still fit structure. His icy blue eyes and blonde hair give him the impression of a statuesque angel turned rouge. Cold and calculating, he’d figure out the best way to take down my foe immediately. But the problem with him is, there is little guarantee he will listen to me, even though it was originally his choice to be Captivated by me. He is a unique demon, surely, and he has even said he wishes to repent for his demonic sins and fight to the aid of the Angels. But there is little trusting between Captivators and demons. And even if he was telling the truth about what he said, that would mean, if he believed it wasn’t right or moral to attack this Captivator, then he wouldn’t and he would leave me to die. Of that, I am sure. But it would be nice to use his calm demeanor to my advantage in the battle.

Of course I could always go with Vyn, Captivated in the dark purple light. You could not find a more exemplary demon than Vyn. Similar in figure to her brother Jeremiah, she is lean and beautiful, with deep brown eyes and a set jaw, but quite short compared to her brother, perhaps only an inch taller than me. Forever seventeen years old, she is constantly in motion, always jumping or tapping, never staying still, and wouldn’t hesitate to kill this Captivator just for kicks. The problem with her is, she’d make me pay for it later. Not necessarily through trickery, she would call me out to repay a debt for her services, something Captivators, demons, and angels all have in common. We have to repay our debts, and in a suitable way too. Vyn couldn’t command me to do anything absurd or illegal to the laws of the Authority, but she would have enough ammunition for a pretty big favor, which couldn’t be lethal or painful, but very well could be humiliating and degrading. In all honesty, anything seems better than dying right now and I could use some of her ferocity.

With a bit of reluctance, I close my mind of all other thoughts and hold my rod above my head.

“Vyn!” I screech, putting all of my fleeting energy into her name. Tinging the immediate surroundings with her dark purple shade, I feel her power shaking through my rod. I shield my eyes with my left hand, my right arm still held poised above my head holding my rod, but now quivering. The other Captivator seems shell shocked, which is logical; few have ever seen a Captivator actually summon a demon. The archaic stories say all Captivators used to have Captive demons, but in our day it is a phenomenon.

With a final shudder of my rod, Vyn suddenly materializes behind me, her arm draped over my shoulder and her lips on my ear. “Well what do we have here? You seem to be in quite the predicament,” she whispers teasingly, her breath tickling my neck.

No longer surprised, but now staring in awe and fear, the Captivator reaches for one of his throwing daggers. His rod had clattered to the ground during Vyn’s little light show. “Get him!” I yelp, shoving Vyn roughly off of me. When my sharp glare is met with a questioning look, I roll my eyes then nod. That was all it took.

Having my debt secured, she smiles coyly, winks at me, then immediately lunges at the Captivator before us. She moves so fast, I couldn’t help but compare her to a fierce lioness diving at her prey. Knocking into him with inhuman force, Vyn quickly scatters the throwing dagger in his hand, sending it clanging to the pavement out of reach. Both supernatural beings locked in a vicious embrace on the ground, I feel the last of my energy ebbing away from the difficult summoning. I slowly sink down to the pavement, fighting to remain conscious.

Seeing Vyn on top reassures me, and I grudgingly approve as she knees the rouge male Captivator where it hurts. Given his distracted state, Vyn quickly retrieves his hellish blade, and slashes into his neck and down his chest. I assume he would’ve screamed if he was able to, but all I hear is the man gurgle his own blood and sputter to a messy end. Satisfied with her toy’s demise, Vyn gracefully stands and composes herself. Her golden hair ends perfectly just on her collarbone and she decorates her face with a sweet smile.

“This had better be worth it,” she grumbles, “I got blood all over my shirt.” She wrinkles her nose cutely in mock disgust.  But I can barely hear her and my body suddenly collapses. The last thing I see is Vyn’s face, painted with a conflict of hope and worry.