And so it began; another night without her. He could just make out the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall outside the bedroom door. He lay in the hazy darkness on the bed, his hands clasped behind his head, gazing upwards at the ceiling. His eyes were bloodshot, testament to the sleepless nights he'd had of late. They focused on nothing, staring past the ceiling, the roof; seeing and seeking the past.
A brighter past; a past in which they shared their laughter and their sorrow; their pleasures and their pains. A sad, distant smile adorned his lips. As much as it hurt to think about her being gone, he still couldn’t help but love her deeply. She had done more than stolen his heart; she had completed his soul, making him feel more complete than he had ever been in his life. Even knowing that he may never see her again, may never hear that sweet voice in his hear, or feel that angelic touch on his soul again, he still couldn’t stop his heart from swelling to bursting when he thought of her.
As he lay there, drifting in his waking dream, he heard the clock chime faintly. “Three o’clock,” he thought to himself, shifting slightly. A faint clatter drew his attention; he’d removed his pistol and laid it beside him when he’d collapsed on the bed earlier. Sighing, he started to lever himself up off the bed, hoisting the shoulder holster holding his pistol as he did. Halfway to his feet, some subconscious sixth sense screamed out a warning. He threw himself to the floor in a headlong dive just as something crashed through the window. Shards of broken glass rained down around him as he moved, twisting himself enough to draw his pistol from its holster, leveling it at the monstrosity slouching in the demolished remains of the window.
He cursed under his breath; he’d hoped they wouldn’t find him so swiftly. He wanted to at least have more information about what had happened to her before they did. But that was a wistful hope now.
“And one for another day,” he vowed to himself.
The creature facing him focused on him with milky black eyes. A snake-like hiss escaped from its “mouth”, a thin slit at the base of its head filled with four rows of pointed, sharpened teeth. It watched his movements warily; it had been warned, apparently, of his talents. Not that he needed those talents to deal with something as weak as a Naga. It drew itself up to its full height, almost brushing the ten foot ceiling with the top of its head. Its gaze never left him, though it was difficult to imagine what it could see with those dark, milky orbs.
He watched its movements almost casually. He’d faced down more Naga than he cared to recall; their attacks were almost laughably predictable. He nearly laughed as the Naga seemed to coil into itself, preparing for its powerful lunge. When it came, he knew it would come blindingly fast; but always, always, it came straight ahead. No last minute swerving, no feints or bluffs. Every time, it was straight at the enemy.
Not that its attack wasn’t dangerous; few had the speed and agility necessary to avoid the attack a single time, let alone long enough to realize it’s predicable nature. With the full strength and weight of its form behind it, he’d seen a Naga tear through a ten-inch steel wall like it were made of paper. And as its snake-like appearance indicated, it moved with the speed of a striking viper. But none of that really mattered to him; he could easily match its speed and strength.
So he watched. And waited, for that single moment that would tell him when his action was necessary; that moment that put him on the brink between life and death. Again. He’d lost count years ago how many times that had happened in his life. He wasn’t about to start again now.
There; he saw the rippling of the muscles along the snake-like appendage that served as its “legs”. That was the sign to watch for; that tell that warned of its impending strike. And it was, as he’d thought before, laughably predictable. He moved even as the Naga sprang forward, his motion so smooth and quick as to make the Naga seem as if it were standing still. He hit the ground just as it came even with him. Three shots erupted in the night; two pierced mere inches apart on its chest, the third dead center between its eyes. The Naga’s momentum carried it on, where it crashed through the wall loudly. Had it survived, it would have twisted in midair, using the wall as a springboard to throw itself back into the fray. A worry for lesser men, he thought.
“I see your reputation is well earned, Valentine,” an inhumanly deep voice, carrying the tone of gravel sliding across slate, came from the shattered remains of the window behind him.
Without even a hint of surprise, Valentine turned. “I prefer Val, actually,” he drawled out casually. “I take it this was your pet?” He addressed to the figure standing framed by the shattered glass. It was human-enough looking, if one ignored the glossy obsidian orbs that sat where eyes normally would in its face. It was dressed, typically, in a well tailored three-piece suit. “One of these days,” Val continued, “I really need to speak with your tailor.”
The demon laughed. It truly was a demon; the Naga could be considered demons by many, but they were truly merely the lowest level of creatures that true demons employed. Val wasn’t showing it, but he was horribly terrified by the things mere presence; he’d slain a true demon only once in his life. Which was one more than most would ever claim to have killed; it was one of the reasons they were seeking him so desperately. Along with the object he had fled with from that encounter. They felt it set a bad precedent to let demon slayers walk away alive. Of course, the object they sought from him had never been in his possession, but they didn’t know that. And he wasn’t about to tell them, since it was the last bit of protection that she had left.
“Your bravado does you credit,” the demon smiled, a hideous smile given the soulless nature of its eyes, along with the sharpened teeth that filled its mouth, “but it’s not very believable. I could’ve killed you where you stand at any point, whether you killed the Naga or not, or even without sending it after you. No, I merely wished to test your abilities. I have a favor to ask of you. One that will pique your interest, let me assure you.”
“And what would that be?”
“As you know, the actual existence of demons has little in the way of racial loyalty behind it. The demons who seek you were allies of the…demon you managed to slay. I was one of his chief rivals. You actually did me a great service in slaying him, and for that I thank you.” The demon stepped carefully over the shattered remains of boards and glass that littered the floor. “But, there are still other…obstacles…standing in my way. While I do have a vested interest in that treasure you stole; I sense that you do not have it on your person, so killing you would prove counter to that interest. At least, for the moment.”
“Get to the point,” Val interjected. “I could care less about the current events lesson.”
“Yes,” the demon paused. “I suppose it would be rather boring for you, at that. Alright,” the demon pulled an object from the pocket of its suit. He tossed the picture to Valentine. “That is what I want you to kill for me. Aside from Exaros, whom you have already slain, she is my closest rival.”
Valentine looked down at the picture and nearly dropped it in shock. It was a picture that appeared to be of a girl of about ten. “She is a rival?”
“You should know better than to judge us by our size or appearance,” the demon retorted. “She is, honestly, one of the oldest of our kind. Old enough, in fact, to remember the Dragon Wars.”
The Dragon Wars; Valentine had heard of them while he was a servant of Exaros. The Dragons were guardians chosen to protect humanity from the demons. Supposedly, they were human originally, but were given the gift of magical power; enough power that each was individually as strong as even the greatest of demon lords. They were hunted to extinction, however, by the very people they were chosen to protect. Thanks, in part, to the demon’s subversions. However, before that, there was a massive war between the demons and the Dragons. It was that confrontation that sent the demons into hiding, disguising themselves as humans, and their attempts to turn the humans against the Dragons. Each dragon was supposed to have possessed a single amulet that was the channel for their power; so when their death approached, they could pass it on to a successor.
“And you expect me to be able to kill her?”
“In all honestly, no. I expect you to die, in fact,” the demon’s bone chilling smile returned, “but, if you should manage to survive; I can perhaps give you information about the one you seek.”
Valentine crushed the picture he held in his hand in anger. A bright light shimmered around it, “And why shouldn’t I just beat the answer out of you now?”
The demon laughed; full of such malice that Valentine’s blood froze in his veins. But his anger burned too hot for it to really affect him. “You know as well as I that you couldn’t beat an answer out of me. Kill me, perhaps, if you were lucky. But you don’t possess the power to force me to tell you anything.” And with that laughter hanging in the air, the demon vanished.
