Psyche

Chapter Two

The ticking of the clock filled the silence in the room. It sounded like the scratching of insects. I probably would've smashed the clock by now, but I was saving it for later in case I got pissed.

I turned over, burying my face in my pillow. I so did not want to get up. The only thing my father had ever had against me: Come on Phoenyx, get up. Training. Come on! You don't want to fuck with me!

Ah, memories of home.

Maybe Patchy could hold off for longer. Maybe I could make sure he did back off. It wasn't as if this job was all that important. Surveillance. Recon. Observe and report. And there was nothing in this town except the humans-excluding me, of course.

Boring humans. Couldn't they make beautiful things, like the pumilio-the cave-dwellers? The humans knew them as 'dwarves'. Or, maybe they'd could be really smart, like the malafici. The mages. But no. The humans were loud,  boring, annoying, boring, dumb, and did I mention boring? Honestly, I was the best thing that'd ever set foot in this town.

The clock beeped. I reached out and punched the 'off' button. Rolling out of bed, I stretched, scratching my head and looking around for a pair of jeans. Clothes, clothes, clothes . . . Where was I supposed to be today? Oh, yeah, among the humans. Recon. Bo-ring . . .

I pulled on some jeans, hopping over to my boots as I pulled them over one knee, then the other. I grabbed a t-shirt hanging out of a suitcase and struggled to pull it over my head, my back to the mirror that reflected back my muscles and tattoos there. I looked over my shoulder. Perfect. Human-looking. I grabbed my jacket and shades and stepped out of the tiny cottage I had commandeered three days earlier. Not my style, but it was foreclosed, and no human was going to come snooping around.

Yawning, I slipped my arms through my jacket, and walked toward the forest at the edge of the property. Where was I supposed to be? Look at me. This job was so boring that I was forgetting what I was supposed to be doing.

Putting my shades on, I loped through the forest, my mind narrowing in towards my goal: the school. Recon.

Honestly, I didn't know why Patchy's boss wanted me to observe a human. And I knew it was Patchy's boss, even though the demon hadn't said so. Patchy was a lesser demon-a minori. He was controlled by a greater demon-a maniori. That demon was the one that was calling the shots.

And what was I getting for this shitty waste of time anyway? Oh, yes. The butterfly blades of the great warrior Equitem. He'd led the Dark Armies to victory in 19,876 B.C.-that was human time, mind you-and those swords had been the key to it all. Technically, they were twin knives. Rare. One of a kind. Great for ignis, or those with power over fire, because it helped them to control the gift. Not that I needed control, since I had perfect discipline, but besides being the best warrior the Canum had known in three thousand years, I also happened to be a collector of weapons.

Hey, what can I say? I'm a sharp guy.

"Hello Patchy." I said suddenly in thickly accented English. No use hiding it, I didn't give a damn what Patchy thought. My language had been obliterated a long time ago, with the rest of the Canum, and every time I spoke it, I recognized their memory. Their blood-in me.

Patchy was just some dicky lesser demon-who gave a damn about his blood? Though, admittedly, I was glad Patchy knew little about my pedigree. Actually, no one knows about it, which is probably keeping me alive.

"Damn, how do you do that Nicky?" Patchy dropped down from a tree above him. Skin the color of terracotta and eyes like black beads stuck in his sockets, Patchy had foregone his human skin for their meeting, "I need the info on the target."