The Demon Girl by Penelope Fletcher (each kindness read aloud TXT) 📕

done that. I’d let the fear get one up on me, and plunged into the forest without thinking. I needed to calm down and focus. I figured if I went high, I could see further around me.

I strode back a pace, and took a running jump at a broad oak trunk. I reached the lowest branch starting five feet or so above my head, and dug my fingertips into the bark. Tree climbing was easy, and in no time I hauled my body over the highest bough that would hold my weight. I balanced on my toes, hands to knees. Exhaling my breath was visible plumes of wispy vapor, and for a few seconds I chugged circular globules to amuse myself.

It was cold, it being the end of autumn, but the cooler days didn’t bother me. It was a welcome change since my body had always run hot.

The clouds on the horizon were dark with rain, darker than the sky now. They rolled low and blocked out the coming light. There was a thick hum in the air, a sure sign a storm was blowing in. My heart did a jig in my chest, and my mood picked up, for I simply loved a good storm. The clean scent of crushed needle leaf on the breeze was refreshing, and a nice change to the ashy smell that saturated everything at the Temple.

Getting back on track, I looked around in a wide circle. I bit my lip and looked the circle again, slower this time. I was in trouble. I couldn’t see the Wall or the end of the forest. I must have run much further than I usually did before I’d fallen. Then I’d walked even further in the wrong direction.

I stood, clasped the branch overhead and skipped to the edge of my perch. Loosening my hold above, I pushed back with my foot and both my arms stretched back. I arced into a crescent and was momentarily suspended in the air. The crown of my head raced to catch my arms as my legs coiled and flew overhead. The world was crazy for a second; up was down, down was up. Pointed feet followed my legs around and then I was falling. Feet a foot apart, my knees bent to absorb impact as I landed, arms extended either side of me for balance.

That bit of fun helped chase away some of my distress. I was good at identifying my emotions and could control them with distractions if I caught them early enough. There were several notable times I’d allowed myself to fall into foul rages, where I’d thrown things about and punched walls, laughing as I did so. The most frequent were bouts of manic happiness where everything was funny. The worst and hardest to control were the dark humors. Sometimes the twisted things my imagination threw at me were only scary, and off-colour to think about once I’d snapped out of it. I’d always been odd, different to the girls around me, and those times where I’d lost control made some people suspicious and afraid of me.

Oh yes, I’d become good at controlling myself.

Back down below the forest canopy it was dark. The sunrays had not broken through the leaves, and the understory had a monochromatic look. Silver bark, grey leaves and black spaces between. I pushed some hair out of my eyes that had gotten loose from my makeshift bun, and breathed in. Smells of the forest, nutty sycamore maples and sweet night flowers releasing the last of their fragrance, were strangely comforting. I was deep into wild and civilization was far behind, but I knew panicking would only make things worse.

A faint rustle ahead made me pause and swiftly reconsider panicking. Another, louder rustle made me tense. A tingle of fear ran down the back of my legs. The forest was full of animals of course, deer, badgers and more birds than I could name, though the most popular was the raven.

The thought I’d been consciously avoiding until now, making me want to lie where I was then die quietly and run shrieking in the opposite direction, was that I was in demon territory.

A flicker of light illuminated the leaf edges in the darkness. I heard a low murmur of sound, hushed and urgent. Instinctively crouching down, I crawled forward and was scared. Voices. Demons spoke, of course. They were bloodthirsty and evil, but intelligent too. Like a rational individual, I could have gone the other way, but then I would not know what kind of demon was close by. If they were shifters with tracking skills, I was no better than a dead body anyway. Soon, I saw the pale glare of artificial light and inched closer, keeping myself low to the floor. My knees scrapped sharp twigs, hard stones. The prickly leaves of low grown shrubs stroked my cheeks, and forehead, as I pushed forward. My breathing sounded too loud in my ears, and I tried to breathe shallow. I kept my moves small and stealthy, like I was taught in Subterfuge when learning how to track demons for the element of surprise.

Ahead of me, there was a small clearing and three bodies in it.

Two were human, Clerics, identified by the peculiar hooded crimson blazers they wore with black tails that flowed to their knees. The wide, pointed hood could cover your face to the nose, and the well-known white-eye sigil stitched on their breast pockets, commanded fear from demons and submission from Disciples. The one facing me was female with her hood down. She was skeletal with mud colored hair and pinched lips, but would be attractive if you like women with up-tilted eyes and a mean-looking disposition. The other had his back to me and was a well-built male. Small but compact with big arms and calves.

To my horror the feeling that surged through me was not relief. These Clerics would take me back to the compound, and I would get into heaps of trouble having to somehow explain the hole in the Wall. But that versus being caught by a demon and killed was preferable, right? No. I sat in my hiding place and quaked in my boots. My stomach twisted into a double knot and my teeth chattered, because something bad was happening.

The third body in the clearing was a demon. A kind I had never seen before in my life, meaning she could only be one thing. Green skin damp and scarlet hair wild, the fairy was sprawled across the forest floor in a tangle of her own gawky limbs. It was clear to me she was terrified. Her vibrant skin looked sallow and her eyes blood shot. A tazer probe buzzed in her shoulder blade, another on her upper thigh. She was crying, a pitiful high keen that was so frail I could barely hear it.

The Lady Cleric twisted the probe deeper into the fairy’s leg. “Why do you spy on the Academy?” she asked with chilling calm.

The fairy-girl cringed back. “I mean you no harm.”

“And here I thought a fairy could tell no lie.”

“I can’t.” The high chime of her voice shook on each word. “I speak the truth. Let me go, you don’t understand what will happen. My brothers-”

The Lord Cleric punched her. Her head flew back and a spray of blood wet the dry mud and spattered over the leaves concealing me. Face wet with tears and whimpering, she tried to crawl toward the trees and dragged up clumps of earth with her fingernails.

“You must let me go.” The words sounded muffled, like she had a mouthful of something foul.

The Lord Cleric executed a neat half turn and stamped on her thigh. There was a sharp snap, like I’d picked up a twig and yanked on the ends until the fibers split apart and cracked open. The fairy’s leg buckled into an unnatural shape and she screamed. The sound was guttural, a direct translation of pain to sound. I slapped a hand over my mouth to smother my own shriek. Not because of the broken bone, I’d seen and heard tons of those, but because I’d caught the Lord Clerics profile and recognized the handsome face. The Lord Cleric dragged the fairy back into the centre of the clearing and brought a knife to her face. Clamping a gloved hand over her mouth, he slashed the blade across her cheek. Blood seeped from the wound and strangely, the smell of sizzling flesh seeped into the air. I gagged.

It was then my body reacted. It was something natural hidden deep within, you see. I know it now, but didn’t know it then, so my actions made no sense to me.

Lurching forward, I snapped twigs beneath me and reached out to her. The Lady Cleric spun and a big, blocky thing appeared in her hands. A gun. I crouched and froze. She peered into the trees for the source of the noise, and I stepped back, snapping another twig underfoot.

The fairy’s red irises twitched to me. We locked gazes and recognition made her eyes blaze, her face crease with panic.

She whispered, “Run.”

The Lady Cleric’s gun swung, jerked, and a gunshot cracked the air. The fairy-girl convulsed then was still, so still.

I was frozen, horrified. I’d seen demons bagged and tagged before when they had dared to breach the Wall and threaten human society, but we were Outside. This was their territory. What could she, a fairy-girl child, have possibly done to deserve torture and execution?

“Show yourself,” commanded the Lady Cleric. She stepped forward this time and her eyes roamed the space. She clutched the gun more securely between her hands. “Show yourself, I say. Come out so we can look at you.”

When a Cleric asked you a question you answered, and if they bade you to do something, you did it. They upheld Sect Doctrine. The Sect was the single most powerful organization humankind invested their faith and security in. If a Cleric told you to do something, the Sect was telling you to do something. And you did it without question, without thinking. They commanded and you obeyed.

I knew if I did as she asked, I was as dead as the fairy-girl on the floor not ten feet from me. Her word echoed in my ear. Run. It was the only plan I had. I stood from my hiding place, wheeled on the spot, and bolted into the darkness.

The sound of another bullet split the air. Something whipped past my arm and left a hot sting. Feet stumbling, the tears streamed down my face. Thorny branches tore at my clothes and hair. I crashed through the undergrowth, not caring how loud I was or that they would be able to track me I needed to get away. Run, run and hide. I had witnessed something hidden, and knew if they caught me, they would kill me.

A dark shape jumped into my path and brought the butt of a gun hurtling toward my face. One forearm came up to protect my head and jerked violently. Then I cranked back my fist and snapped it forward. The answering grunt told me it was the Lady Cleric. As she staggered the gun swung again, barrel first and forced me to drop and roll. Using the force of my body popping up, I spun, cocked my leg and kicked like mule. My heel connected with her upper back and sent her off-kilter-stance to hell. She flew toward a tree, spindly arms and legs flailing to hit an oak trunk hard. She collapsed to the floor in a messed up heap.

I’d struck a Cleric. Something crazy people with death wishes did. It was dark and I fretted she saw my face and would recognize me in a