Advent by Wyatt Damon

Author:Wyatt Damon [Damon, Wyatt]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rebel ePublishers
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

My back against the wall, my head hanging lifelessly to one side, I still had the gun in my hand when I woke.

Leon and Eric had patrolled, protecting me, the whole night. Demons or not, they were still half-human, and they needed to sleep. I cared about their well-being just as much as they cared about mine. I tried hard not to show them my pain and worry, but I knew Eric could see right through me. Leon, on the other hand, saw what he wanted to see – a demon.

I moved forward. My back ached from being pressed against the cold wall for more than six hours. For most of the night I had been vigilant and prepared, listening to the sounds of the house, to every bump and creak of the night. I wasn’t about to let my brothers take the fall for me. If there was one thing our mother had taught me, it was that I had to pay for my mistakes. Everything had consequences.

I never spoke or thought much about her. I had blocked out the pain of my past so that I could have a future, an actual future. I hadn’t wanted to remember her face, or her smell, I just wanted to forget everything from the darkest years of my life. And over time, I did. Sometimes I dreamed of the night our father tried to kill me, the look in his eyes. I didn’t want to turn out like that. I wanted to be an angel. I wanted to prove my difference to the Light side, to prove that I did not belong on the Dark side. Our mother did, why couldn’t I?

I stood up and placed the pistol on my nightstand. The sun had just begun to rise. Knight was lying on my bed, his eyes opening when I moved. I opened my curtains and let the sun shine in. A red and gold light radiated from my chest and I looked down. Gold and heavy, with a diamond in the very middle, the necklace the priest had given me after I had just changed. He said it would do well for me. It hadn’t. It was just hanging there, unresponsive and worthless. I removed it and placed it next to the gun. It was just adding to the onus of my affliction.

I put on my favorite torn jeans, a black T-shirt, and picked up my leather jacket. I stuck the pistol in at the back of my pants so that my jacket would cover it. I took a bowl of cereal from the kitchen, retreated to the lounge and turned on the TV. Knight stayed by my side, behaving as if he understood the cartoons.

A fox ran up a mountain. He had that crazy look on his face – the same as all cartoon characters have – large, protruding eyes and a long, pink tongue. He looked over his shoulder time and time again, obviously running from something. It was another fox, chasing him with a ten-foot hammer.

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