We Bid You, Please

A poem written during an education class out of boredom or spite or some other negative emotion I've long since been over.

So this is what it means
to be truly alone

Breathless rock
in a forest of life
Drying in sun
Not building it up

I was getting killed
Stuffed full of grief
Ready to explode
On the nearest accepting soul

NaNo - The Rest

This is actually the rest of what I've written so far. It's long, but it didn't feel right to split it up. I have no idea when/if I'll be able to post any more of the story. Anyway, I finally started to introduce the main conflict of the story. On page 52.

I hope you like this. Please pleeeasseee give me feedback about ANYTHING--thoughts, good stuff, bad stuff, things you'd like to see, questions, etc. I want to know people are actually reading this if I'm going to keep writing it in the future. Thanks! Enjoy chapter 4!

Chapter Four

Two years later…

Kale is less than a man, but better than he was. Corten has never been more proud in his life of anything or anyone, including himself, and that’s saying something. Corten has grown, too, in ways he never expected. But for now, they both find themselves in the backwood with the other five men. The trees have returned since the last time Kale was in the mysterious forest, but he now knows why.

Kale understands more about the world—his world—than he ever knew was possible. He can find himself in anything. There are relations between his still somewhat new friends that he understands with much more completeness. There is more between them than Kale could have imagined. Relationships in the demon world, he discovered, are not just friendships or romances. Every last one of them is connected in a brotherhood to each other, and that brotherhood only grows stronger with time and redemption.

Redemption, Kale has found, plays a larger part in his life than even his friends and his brother understand. Being such a unique case, he is left to answer a lot of his questions on his own, and he has virtually ceased asking them of the others. He understands now why they found his questions so menial and pointless. He had no grounds to even fathom the answers. Kale’s life is something indescribable, and his existence is something uncontainable. His life exists fully within him, but extends outside himself and even into other people.

He can influence them, he has found. He cannot change minds or actions or use telekinesis or anything fancy like that. But Kale can release energy into a human and cause him to ponder something not previously realized by the person. They will consider his input before they know his name or his face. From across the street, he can guilt someone into helping a person who has dropped a package.

Kale’s powers are not surprising to the other men, but they do not reveal to him that he is unique. He can do things the others cannot. While Blake has his mind-reading thing, and Enya has his presentations, and Corten his leadership, none of those things combined with the others can equal the potential that exists within Kale’s single right hand. What remains between the Dream Team—which they decided to adopt after Kale recounts his thoughts from his first trip to the backwood—a secret, they do not fret over the difference. They realize Kale has no need to know his impact on the world and its impact returned to him. There is no imminent danger to either. They remain quiet despite their minor reservations, and Kale continues to learn about the world he never knew was truly his.

--

Kale licks his lips and tastes the salt of his own sweat resting there. His hands are grasped behind his back, pulling at themselves, straining to remain still but feeling urges stronger than Satan himself could create. His skin was shimmering and almost white in its strain. His eyes shut tightly, and his ears wide open. Waiting.

The waiting is the hardest part. Kale knew he could restrain himself from the urges. He knew his own strength was way beyond that of the other men, even pooled together. His patience, however, was lacking. It was something he never had need to practice before realizing his real life. Two years previously, before any of this was even under Kale’s radar, he had problems with his patience. Perhaps it was his greatest flaw—his biggest setback. He never understood why waiting was such a big deal. Especially now, with the powers he possessed, why wait was always a question on his mind. He pushed it back almost hourly with reasoning and the things he had learned in his days with the Dream Team, knowing why wait was such an invalid question. In the long run, ironically enough, waiting was the biggest piece. Training was necessary and education was definitely worth completing, but waiting was such an enigma. There were reasons, sure. But to Kale, reason was never enough. He had an experience-based mind, and with no experience to base the need to wait on, Kale found it rather tedious.

Still, hands sore and knuckles white with the muscles in his face, Kale waits.

The men circle him slowly, turning and watching him struggle against himself. Their eyes are red and black, all except for Corten. Corten stands beyond the circling men, mirroring Kale in his stance, but not his tension. Corten is concentrated, but calm. His blazing white eyes focused on Kale, his hands resting behind him, his face even and unmoving.

Corten surely should not be the one doing this, but he insisted. He said it would be better for the two of them.

The men disagreed on almost anything Corten said anymore, but they stopped saying as much. There was more to their obedience of him than his superiority, after all. They had to remain at peace. It was part of the brotherhood of their race. It was part of keeping them alive as redeemed men. They had a grace and a responsibility to use that grace to relate to others.

Corten’s glare bore into Kale’s mind. He tore it apart without being too damaging. Corten had already left a piece of himself there before, he didn’t mind doing it again, but he did not want Kale to go through the same thing involuntarily. He could not let Kale experience the breaking of the mind that came with these intrusions. It would be a reality someday, but not now. Corten controlled himself, and merely explored, knocking over a metaphorical thought table or two on his way down the hall.

Bowls of meat and potatoes tumble down from counters as Corten reaches two kitchens, three, and four. Kale has certainly grasped the concepts of the paradox and distraction. Corten finds it in himself to reign in his pride for his brother. Emotion is irrelevant at the moment. It will only allow Kale more defense. This exercise is not about defense—it is about learning how to break safely.

Glass is flying everywhere. It passes by Corten as he walks through his brother’s mind palace and does not do more than scratch his skin a few times. There is no blood. There is no time for blood. The creation of such weaknesses comes later. For now, Kale has surely grasped the basics.

Kale expresses to Corten as the man invades his thoughts that perhaps he needs to work a little harder. Corten takes the challenge, and orders the circling Dream Team members to increase their attacks. They close in on Kale slowly, the circles getting tighter as they walk at faster paces. Kale cannot see them, but he feels them in his presence. Kale counts them over and over, a distraction both for their attacks and for Corten’s invasion.

They have seen this before. It’s obviously nothing new. The clearing of the backwood is the same as the one Kale saw during his first experience there, but now he stands on a raised mound of brush opposite the entrance path with Corten blocking it. The force around them grows more condensed and Kale begins to shake where he stands. The men are now standing around him, their faces mere inches from his head, their red and black eyes growing more intense with every second as they join Corten in his intrusion. The men appear behind Corten within Kale’s mind palace. The place is trashed. Everything has been destroyed except the walls, windows, and the palace itself.

Kale shakes harder; the urges are almost overpowering. His senses diminish to nothing, his hands lose their grip on each other, and his teeth are bared. His eyes burst open, and his arms seem to explode from his body outward, throwing each of the men around him to collide with different trees around the clearing. Corten does not move from his stance as Kale slowly sinks to the ground, but his eyes soften and return to their normal color.

Kale is on his knees, sitting back, eyes closed again, but this time from exhaustion. Corten finally crosses the clearing as the other men stand up and straighten out their clothes, not a single one harmed.

He reaches Kale after what feels like ten minutes of the world’s smallest steps, but he has to make sure Kale is recovering on his own. Corten holds back his need to protect and comfort as Kale sways forward onto his hands and knees, almost bowing in salute before standing shakily on his freshly weakened legs. Kale opens his eyes and breathes heavily for a moment before slapping Corten on the shoulder and chuckling.

Corten remains in his reserved position as Kale walks back toward the path and exits the backwood. Corten continues to forget that he can do so without assistance, unlike before. The past two years have gone too quickly, Corten thinks before chuckling, head down, and following his brother out of the clearing, the other men trailing respectfully behind.

Back in the third meeting room, the men sat around a rather larger table than used to occupy the closet-esque space. They had to invest in something bigger since Kale joined them. The Dream Team could barely survive as it was, let alone with another member.

Kale had also grown accustomed to navigating the darkroom since his induction to the club. He realized the emptiness of the black space came from his perception of it rather than the actual lack of contents of the room. As he changed his perception, the room itself changed. He still passed through a thin layer of blackness like with the backwood, but now he could see a normal parlor and living room within the space. It was perpetually dim, but visible nonetheless. The astonishing factor to this strange discovery was in Kale’s experience with it. The men did not tell him that he could change the room based on his perception. Kale discovered it on his own. He did not exclaim his discovery upon noticing it, however. He figured it was something so common to them that he would be viewed as mediocre or inexperienced or even dumb if they found out he had not been doing this all along.

The darkroom never changed; it only became more visible. Never brighter, just clearer, as if Kale had found a pair of glasses that slowly increased his vision in the darkness as he passed through more and more.

Into the closet space they went, and sitting down at the long, rectangular table, Corten smirked, “So this is what a champion looks like post-war.” Kale glared at him.

It was obvious to both of them and the others that Kale had not won that war like he expected to. His patience had worn thin, and his outburst was costly. While he was able to salvage the walls of his mind palace, he sacrificed a piece of his redemption. The piece was small enough to be irrelevant yet large enough to affect Kale’s countenance. He was tired and irritated with Corten’s destruction of the maze Kale had spent so long on. They were both aware of the tension, but they knew it would pass as always.

“Right. So when do I get to go all Bond on your brain?” Kale asked, feigning an insult on his brother.

“In time.”

“As always.”

“Don’t be that way. You know this test of your patience is a temporary thing. You will gain the ability soon, but it requires practice and concentration and everything you don’t have enough patience yet to endure. It will continue to be a complicated process until you are willing to go through Alexander’s lessons like I talked to you about.”

“Don’t speak to me like you are my superior. You know I’m more powerful. You know I could slaughter you in a second.”

“But you can’t. You’re redeemed, remember? You have a conscience, and it will not allow you to slaughter anyone, particularly me.”

“Whatever you say, Master.”

“You don’t need to hear this speech again. It will only harden you. So I will leave you to your recovery.” With that statement, Corten stood and motioned for Kale to step out of the room so the rest of the group could discuss his state of mind like they always did after an exercise. Kale rolled his eyes, but left the room as they wished. He knew he was always like this right after an invasion, but he hated it nonetheless. He passed through the darkroom and into the hallway.

Corten appeared for a moment behind him, saying, “Don’t drive like this, remember. You have that room for a reason.” Kale waved him off and continued out the door at the end of the hall, fully intending to drive to his apartment against Corten’s wishes. It was all routine at this point. Corten knew Kale would ignore his warnings, and Kale knew Corten would continue to give them. The ordinary-ness of it all became a comfort, and Kale shrugged off some of his irritation as he crossed the threshold of his bedroom.

He laid down, but could not sleep just yet. He had to reorganize what Corten had overturned during the exercise. Kale knew it would only help to recover from his negative emotions and mental strain, but it was a real pain in the ass. That was no mystery.

The sun departed from the sky as the hours passed with Kale meandering down metaphorical hallways and staircases, picking up the books that held all his knowledge and righting frames on the walls, noting the ones that needed the glass replaced or the tables that needed stain touch-ups. He was not in a hurry. As the rooms returned to normal, he calmed the shaking in his hands and the twitch in his toes right along with the unsettled nature of the palace slowly regaining their intended form.

Kale sighed and figured he’d had enough for the day. He climbed the rest of the way onto his bed and fell asleep without even drawing the covers over himself.

--

Kale awoke to Corten sitting over him on his bed, shaking his shoulders and shouting indeterminable noises at him. Kale started almost punched Corten in the face. He probably would have were it not for the tight hold Corten had on his arms.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” Corten said nonchalantly as he climbed off the bed and left the room, presumably to sit at the kitchen counter.

“How in the world did you get in here?” Kale questioned. It would not have been strange after two years of intense brotherhood for Corten to be in his apartment at random times, but they had agreed early on that Kale’s space needed to be just that—his—if they were to continue their relationship amicably. Corten left Kale his recovery space separate from anything outside what Kale wanted in his world. If he wanted his apartment to remain completely human as it had been before their meeting, so be it. That space was Kale’s, and that fact would not change no matter how close they got. Yet, here was Corten, invading that sacred space, without the convenience of a key to enter the establishment, nor an invitation to be welcome in it.

“I came to wake you before you slipped into a self-induced coma. You didn’t come back for three days last time. That can’t happen again.”

“You told me it was only a day!”

“Well, that was then. We are getting you closer to needing results, and you cannot allow that much time for recovery. Other attackers will not let you simply return to your apartment after an attack and tell you to take your time redecorating.”

“Don’t patronize me!”

“Don’t yell at me. You know I’m right. You need to be stronger than this.”

“I’m already stronger than you! What more do you want?”

“I want us to be happy. I want us to be able to stand in a room together after an attack and not shout insults. I want us to have a normal to return to and not just imagine we’re doing what’s best.”

“A normal to return to. What is your definition of normal? Because two years ago, this wouldn’t have been mine.”

“Normal for us will be different because we are different from everyone else, demon or human or otherwise. No two people are like us in any way. Don’t let that define your normal.”

“You always speak with such eloquence. Did you get that from Mother or Father?” The rude question Kale posed had its intended effect. Corten set his jaw and started to speak, but he realized there was nothing worth saying. He had come to wake Kale, and that was done. Corten left, almost slamming the door behind him.

His patience was wearing thinner than Kale’s at this point, but he would never tell his brother that.

Kale returned to bed and lay down again, but he could not sleep. He still had a few rooms in his palace to clean, and they would take at least an hour or two at the pace Kale was willing to go. Someday he would learn to do his cleaning more hastily, but this was not the day for such change.

He analyzed Corten’s actions while he picked up splinters of wood and shards of glass from the cabinet that had been overturned. Corten had been borderline enthusiastic upon waking Kale (however enthusiastic one can be with a countenance as stoic as Corten’s), but that wore off in one statement, one comment about their parents. The strong counsel, the stone of Thor had been reduced to a stammering wimp upon remembering the fate of the persons that brought him into the world. That remained Corten’s only weakness, and Kale had noted that as quickly as he could, using it almost too frequently to be considered accidental.

There was always a hint of secrecy in Corten’s statements. Kale was not sure if Corten knew he was so obvious, and Corten did not realize Kale could see it in his every word. But they danced around the unknown and landed in a pile of hatred every time. It was not healthy, but they had missed out on an entire childhood of bickering, so they allowed their not-yet-fully-developed minds to indulge.

Kale’s mental form picked up the last of the chairs that had been thrown against a wall. He set it in a different place than he knew it had been before, and waited for his conscience to reject it as it had the first time he attempted to change the layout. It did no such thing. The chair did not shake or crumble or explode. It rested like furniture should—undisturbed and inanimate.

Kale stared at it for a long moment and ultimately chose not to interpret why at the time. He was tired of his own questions. They were often the only ones asked. He had nothing to teach the others, so all he did was ask and absorb. It was relieving and tiring at the same time, and Kale was resigned to accept both effects. He was, after all, the student, the youngling, and the protégé. It was not his time.

He left the room and the unmoving chair and his mind entirely. He let his subconscious wander around the physical apartment he was in. It brushed fingers over dusty shelves and dry surfaces, tracing patterns with its feet as it sauntered around the perimeter of the bedroom and reached the door. It followed the wall around a corner and passed the TV, heading for the balcony. Kale joined his subconscious in leaning on the railing and looking over the city. It was a strange idea, that he could be outside himself, but he was able to see the scars on his arms and the worn down condition of his face in the morning light.

Kale examined his appearance through the eyes of an outsider. He looked like a normal person at first glance. Though, searching deeper into his own eyes, he saw the beginnings of fire. The irises were morphing from their Caribbean Sea blue to a lighter, cloudy sky color. The red fire was not there.

Kale allowed his subconscious form to return to his mind and left the balcony to examine himself in the mirror. He looked first at his hair, just the same as two years before, except slightly thicker and darker. No one else would have noticed.

He leaned against the counter and moved in close to study his eyes. Like he noticed on the balcony, they had grown significantly lighter than Kale remembered. In the left one, he saw a flare. It was white—hotter than the red fire the other men had—like Corten’s eyes when he grows angry.

This did not worry or concern Kale. It did not affect him in the least. It was merely another factor of his life, another observation made about his subtle transformation into… well, the demon that he was. It was slow, almost unnoticeable, but something that was becoming a part of him, or rather that he was becoming.

--

The next training session found Kale in the presence of the Dream Team with the exception of Corten. It was unusual for him to be absent, but the man had duties other than attacking his brother. They were in the darkroom; Kale was not yet sure why. They had seated him in the center of the largest couch and were standing around the table that rested in front of him. Rather than clasping their hands behind their backs as had become normal to Kale, their arms were crossed over their chests, almost protectively. They looked prepared to throw trouble makers out of a club.

Kale sat quietly, looking between them and assessing possible reasons for their presence in the darkroom. He was not terribly worried. He could see, after all. He began to wonder if this was another test of his patience, when—

“KALE, BROTHER OF BELOVED CORTEN,” Roth’s voice boomed through the small, dim space.

“Uh, yeah?”

“WHAT HAVE YOU TO SAY?”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.”

“YOU ARE IN AN UNFAMILIAR LOCATION, SURROUNDED BY STRONG OPPONENTS. YOU CANNOT SEE. WHAT WILL YOU DO?”

“What do you mean I can’t see? I can see you perfectly. Well, I guess not perfectly. It’s a little dark and slightly blurry, but it’s a lot better than it used to be.” Kale watched Roth’s face mash up as his head turned to the side in confusion. Blake was even more perplexed, obviously attempting to read Kale’s mind and face at the same time. Alexander was the only one whose arms did not fall to his sides, but his glare did soften into a look of surprise.

“You can see?” Alexander asked.

“Yeah, did you not know that?”

“You should have said something. How long?”

“How long what?”

“HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN ABLE TO SEE IN THE NOT-SO-DARKROOM?” It was the first time Kale had ever heard Alexander make a joke, and it was definitely not the right time to laugh.

“A—a little over a year? It’s been getting better over time. At first I thought I was seeing things, but then I started actually reaching out to touch the stuff I thought I passed, and it was actually there.”

“And now?”

“Now? Now I can see you all pretty darn well. Blake isn’t doing great over there; you might want to check on him. I know that the couch I’m sitting on is a deep forest green and the table in front of me has a thick candle on it. You’re all standing pretty equally distant from each other and from me. Why is it so weird? Maybe my eyes just adjusted well over time or something.”

“This is much more unusual than that. The darkroom is more than just dark.”

“What is it?” Kale didn’t understand what the big deal was, but Alexander ignored his question and began barking out orders.

“Roth, wipe that look off your face. Go summon Corten. Kenton, start looking into this. I want to know just how rare it is and what it could mean for Kale. Enya… you know what to do. Blake, wait here while I take Kale into the first room. Search the waves for any revelations.” Kale was completely lost in the vernacular of the demons. He frequently forgot that they all had much more experience than he did, whether or not he was in fact more powerful.

“Kale?”

“Yep.”

“Come with me.” Alexander turned and walked into the first meeting room and Kale followed closely behind. Kale knew there was a heavy talk coming, and he was not particularly excited. This was definitely at a higher caliber than the time he let Roth melt his pen in the third room. It was still stuck to the floor.

“Kale.” Alexander stated his name as he shut the door behind them.

“Yes?” They both sat down.

“We have a problem.” Kale knew Alexander didn’t want to say whatever it was.

“And what would that be?” But he was not yet worried.

“There’s something about you that’s . . . different.”

“Well, I knew that.”

“Sort of. We’ve explained your unique situation, but in reality, there should not be too many noticeable differences between you and the others. You have trained much more quickly probably due to your age, and you have adjusted to the group rather well, probably due to your brother’s presence and assistance.”

“Is there something wrong with that?” Kale was beginning to worry. If Alexander was still holding whatever-it-was back, it must be huge.

“No, not with that. At all. But there is something else.”

“Goddamnit Alex, stop dancing around it!”

“It is not that simple, Kale. This is not the same as the first revelation that was delivered to your puny brain—it is beyond. It is more. It is redefining and—“

“And that wasn’t? Are you diminishing the impact of what I am on my life? Are you saying that was NOTHING?”

“Compared to this? Yes.”

“Is it… bad?” Kale said as he sat back down, not even realizing he had stood in the first place.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“Satan.”

“Oh. Is this… his fault, or something?”

“No. It is not about fault. It is about reaction. Whether Satan reacts. Or whether he leaves you alone.”

“Which is more likely?”

“The former.” Alex’s face had not moved except for his minor anger outburst. Kale started to note this as a pattern among them. They tended to be rather emotionless.

“So back to the original question. What happened to me?”

“You’re more powerful than we thought, even after these two years.”

“How is that a bad thing?”

“You may or may not be a temptation for Satan to, shall we say, desire your assistance.”

“Stop putting it lightly. What does that mean?”

“You have potential to be summoned and directly influenced—no, coerced by Satan to be his right hand.” Upon seeing the look of horror on Kale’s face, Alex continued hurriedly, “It is not a sure thing, like I said. But we need to prepare for it.”

“But I’m redeemed. How could he know?”

“Ever since the Fall of man, Satan has had this world in his hands. He knows more than you think.”

“Couldn’t he have figured it out way before now, if he’s that powerful?”

“Not necessarily. He is not able to read minds. Blake is one of few who can. Satan relies on spies or Watchers to reveal things to him. This would not be an issue, except for the fact that we do not know who the spies are or where they are. They can take many forms; they could have been watching us at any time.”

“Could they be watching us now?”

Kale did not receive an answer. Alex simply bowed his head for a moment and breathed before taking his hands apart and off the table and walking to the door.

“Since you obviously do not need to be led through the darkroom, I will give you as long as you need. Come back to the third room when you’re ready.”

The second Alex stepped through the doorway Kale could not see or hear him. That was the quality of the darkroom. It was nothing. Or, it was supposed to be nothing. Kale knew differently now. He began to wonder just how many things went on in his life that he did not notice were different, and how many more things he had yet to figure out.

Chapter Five

“You said yourself it was inevitable. It was bound to happen, just not anytime soon, that you could see. It was something further off in the future, as long as nothing significant happened.” Kenton.

“Something significant happened.” Blake.

“We should have known sooner.”

“That’s not possible—“ Alex.

“WE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN SOONER.” Corten paused. “This could have been avoided completely.”

“SIR, BELOVED CORTEN. I APOLOGIZE FOR THE SAKE OF OUR DISRESPECT, BUT I BELIEVE NONE COULD HAVE FORESEEN THE NEW FORM TAKEN UP IN BELOVED KALE.” Roth.

Everyone was arguing. There were spurts of silence and spurts of yelling, most of the time so much yelling that no one person could be heard. That was the first intelligible section of the conversation in an hour. Kale still continued to sit quietly, no input or comments. They were arguing about him. He didn’t need to be there, especially since he had nothing to add, but they figured he needed to be a part of it. It was his life and future they were planning. Protecting.

“I simply do not understand how in two years of training, education, exercises, and mind reading for God’s sake, we could not have even thought of it.”

“It is not as if there was anything to precede him. He is the first.”

“Hopefully not the first of many.”

“We have no way of knowing.”

“But we do know we need to figure out a plan of action. Satan knows, and he’s coming, and we need to be ready.”

“How do you begin to prepare for Satan?”

“Right. None of us has even heard from or seen him in at least a decade.”

“And Kale has never seen or heard from him.”

“That’s a strange thought. How do you prepare to fight something you’ve never experienced?”

“Would you all stop talking about me like I’m not in the room?” The quick chatter was silenced, and every head in the small room turned to look at Kale. “It has been almost two hours, and I would like to go home. I don’t care if you plan something without me. I won’t have anything to offer anyway. Please just let me leave.”

“You may leave whenever you desire, youngling.” Kenton did not often address him, and no one had called him youngling in a long while. Kale could not bring himself to care as he sauntered slowly over the few feet between his chair and the edge of the room, mumbling over his shoulder.

“Kent. Blake. Cort. Enny. Roth-my-man. Alex.” He envisioned Alexander tensing at the use of his nickname, but the demon did nothing. Kale continued out the door. “Nighty night now.”

NaNo Day 14

By now, I should have twice the word count I did when I posted last time, but it's been a difficult ride. I told myself up until the week before that I would notnotnot do NaNo this year. I had no time, and that is completely true. I started nonetheless, and I'm glad I did, but I will not be reaching 50k this year.
Maybe next fall when I'm taking 14 credits and not going home every second I'll actually get close.

Current word count: 14,350
Anyway. Here's the entirety of chapter 3 that I thought I posted but apparently didn't. Excuse the length. (and the over-cheeseyness of it all)

Chapter Three

Kale opened his eyes and found himself on the floor, covered in sweat. He could not remember his dreams, but he remembered the pain he felt while in them. It was an indescribable pain—not in the sharpness, but in the emotion of it. He didn’t feel depressed or worthless. He simply felt weak. He was angry, but not irate. He thought the discovery meant he would soon be standing over someone putting a knife in their chest or mauling them with the claws he was sure to grow at some point.

However, it still took him several hours to pull himself away from his apartment and find something to eat. He looked at his watch upon reaching a café. It read 4:35pm. The shop was almost empty except for two elderly couples who almost mirrored each other on opposite sides of the room. Kale ordered a sandwich and sat down where he could see out the window.

People walked briskly down the sidewalk; they were almost invisible. They all blended into each other, and the cars rushing behind them did not make the scene any less trippy. Kale felt separated from the unnecessary mess of people and machines. He felt outside.

One man who passed the window stared at Kale while he walked. That was the last free moment Kale had.

He stood up, threw away the rest of his food, and stormed out the doors and down the sidewalk. It took him only 20 minutes of angered steps to reach the mysterious building that held the darkroom and most of his memories of Corten. The stairs were behind him in seconds, and before Kale knew he was there, he was banging on the door with the force of a police officer with a warrant for arrest.

There was no sound from inside the building until the door opened dramatically. Kale’s eyes met Corten’s as he stood on the other side.

“You promised me answers.” Kale demanded.

“I knew you’d come back.” Corten answered without a single emotion crossing his face. He did not scold Kale for his demands, but welcomed him inside with a step back and a swing of his arm.

“Where are you depositing me today?”

“There will be no deposits for a long while now.” Corten closed the door and faced Kale.

“No other poor youngling souls to destroy?”

“Your soul was destroyed a long time ago. You simply weren’t aware of it.”

Kale did not ask what that meant. He would wait a little longer and receive the full story of what he was and why he was not aware of it.

“Shall we?” Corten led Kale down the short hall for what felt like the hundredth time that week. They passed through the darkroom, Corten guiding Kale by his arm, and entered the closet-looking meeting room. Again. Kale sat, and Corten stood behind the chair opposite him.

“Is this the only room through that door?” Kale asked.

“Of course not. There’s the darkroom, this one, and two others. The darkroom is the only unique room in this section of the floor, though. The other three are identical in every way. We use them for meetings, presentations, negotiations, and a few other things.”

“Will you tell me the other things at some point?”

“There’s no sense in hiding anything from you now, but you wouldn’t understand some of the things we do quite yet, so I won’t befuddle your mind.”

“Fair enough.” Kale nodded. “Are you planning to sit and tell me what happened to my life?”

“Explanations, yes, but I will not sit right now. I was waiting for your questions to end so I could fetch some of the boys.”

“The boys?”

“Blake, Enya, and Alexander are in the other room. They can help explain.”

“Oh. I’ve never heard you refer to them that way before.”

“Human habit. My apologies. Can you contain yourself for a moment while I fetch them?”

“Sure.”

Corten left one meeting room and presumably went to another. In a minute or two, he was back with Blake, Enya, and Alexander trailing him. The door was closed, and everyone sat down besides Corten. He instead leaned against the door and shut his eyes.

“You all go ahead. I need to collect my thoughts.” Corten said to no one in particular.

“Well then,” Enya began. “I may as well start. A lot of things will take a while for you to understand. I ask that you be patient with us. You will understand, more than you wish to, in time.”

“I heard that.” Kale remembered those words. They were spoken in his head the day of his adventures in the backwood. “Something said it in my head.”

“Oh, that was probably Blake. He’s been known to listen to your thoughts and give us reports.”

“I’m part of how we know you so well. I kept track of you in the backwood, also. We needed to know where your head was, metaphorically speaking.” Blake explained.

“What exactly do you do? I—I mean, I know Enya said he was a ‘presenter’ or whatever that means. But you didn’t say what you were—are.”

“I remember. I didn’t want to confuse you. At that point, you were not even aware of your supernatural condition. You probably still will not fully understand, but I am a mentem lector. I keep track of thoughts and dreams.”

“And you’ve been keeping track of mine?”

“Precisely.”

“Well that’s easy enough to understand.”

“For now, that is all you need to know about me.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll go next.” Enya spoke. “As you said, I am a presenter. You may have seen one aspect of my job during the ceremony when you came here the first time. Those were my cards. They may have seemed randomly strewn across the table, but they were placed in precise locations to be analyzed. The blue one I selected was the redemption card. I was proposing we send you into the backwood to determine your state of normalcy and dedication. You seemed solid from what Corten had observed so far, but we wanted to be sure so we could reveal your state to you at the same time as your race.”

“So is that what you meant when you said I was ‘redeemed’?”

“Yes. We knew you had taken a permanent human form, but we needed to determine your state of mind, as Blake said. We wanted to be able to tell you that you were redeemed when you woke up. If you hadn’t woken up when Alexander slapped you, that would mean you had yet to be redeemed, and we would have had to retrieve you.”

“Wait. Alexander slapped me? I wondered why my face hurt.” Corten snickered, still against the door.

“He did. It was necessary, I assure you. But it doesn’t matter. You were likely redeemed a long time ago, by someone you no longer know. I’m sure it was an emotional moment. I am sorry you will never be able to remember it.”

“Um… Thank you?”

“You are quite welcome. Now, my job as presenter usually entails planning and describing those plans to the others. Extremely menial stuff. But I am also typically the handler of the younglings—what we call demons who either do not know their heritage or do not have a grasp of their abilities. In your situation, however, you met and connected with Corten first, so he has become your handler.”

“My handler?”

“Don’t be offended by the title. It is merely that. He guides you in the darkroom and interacts with you outside this building. The rest of us are free to take care of the rest of our duties without worrying if you are lost or in the middle of a breakdown or some similar situation. Corten watches you, with a little of Blake’s help in the mental area.”

“That sounds reasonable enough, I guess. Is it strange that I’m taking all of this in without even asking myself if it’s true?”

“You know in yourself what is true. It is your life; you cannot escape it, and you will never be able to deny the realities you face because they are a part of you as much as your flesh is.”

“Well wasn’t that deep for five in the afternoon.”

“Oh, it’s not five in the afternoon,” Corten said, finally opening his eyes and lifting his head from the door.

“How would you know? You’ve practically been sleeping this whole time.”

“I have been doing anything but sleeping, youngling. I have been plotting your imminent doom.”

“Wait, I thought…” Kale momentarily looked frightened.

“I’m joking. I was listening to the conversations and planning my own speech about your history.”

“Oh.”

“Back to the time of day, it is almost seven in the evening.”

“What? How is that possible?”

“Time passes quickly in the darkroom. That is truly the only explanation I can give you at the moment.”

“I… will be sure to remember that.”

“Kale, we know there’s a lot going on in your head right now. We’re willing to give you whatever information you ask for as long as it’s in the right time. We’re also willing to give you space if you need to think or process something apart from our company. If you need to rest, let us know. We will not judge you. We understand you better than everyone.” Alexander’s statement sat in the air for a moment before Kale finally responded with gratitude.

“I appreciate that, I guess. I’m fine, though. I really want to continue. Can we—can you tell me who I am?”

“Sure. Your name is Kale Rietan Perford. You are 19 years of age, and you life in Torman City by yourself. You have no parents or siblings that you know of, and you keep no company. You graduated last year from Torman High School in the top 25% of your class, but you attend no university. You are perfectly content to explore the city by yourself and never accomplish much of anything. About a week ago, you met Corten in line at a café and even after barely knowing him, followed him into a creepy building to meet a creepy, uniform group of men sitting around a table with what you thought were poker cards.

“You were freaked out by everything overall, and extremely confused as well, yet you chose to come back and, ultimately, recently found out you are not who you thought you were—not even of the human race. This fact confused you even more and caused you to be angry toward every last one of us although you know we did nothing we should not have done. You still don’t understand what is going on or what your future holds, but you were willing to return to us for answers, and we are willing to give them to you.”

“Um, wow. Thank you so much for detailing my recent life story.” Kale’s head shook in awe of the rant Alexander had just completed. He chuckled before continuing. “But that wasn’t what I was asking, and you know it. I heard the sarcasm in your voice.”

“Well done. You can detect simple tonal qualities. Now, we must strongly consider creating a course in which you can learn how to ask better questions. What did you really want to know, since everything I just told you was supremely obvious?”

“My past. I want to know where I came from, how I managed to think I was human all that time, why I can’t point to anything abnormal in my entire childhood that makes being a demon make sense.”

“We’ve taken measures to assure that you didn’t find out until we couldn’t keep it from you any longer. Those specific measures are not particularly important. We may tell you someday. Your parents were both demons as well, the same type and heritage of course. You were too young to realize it when they were sacrificed, which is why you were never told, and why you don’t know them. The fact that you are redeemed kept you from experiencing ‘abnormalities’ as you call them.”

“Why were my parents sacrificed?”

“They were chosen. It was not up to them, and your presence in their lives did not change the fact that they had to uphold their duty.”

“Who chose them?”

“Satan, who else?”

“That… is not what I expected you to say.”

“What did you expect me to say?”

“I don’t know, some committee or leader.”

“Satan is the leader. He makes all the decisions.”

“Okay. I guess that makes sense. You keep saying I’m ‘redeemed’. What does that mean? How does it work?” Everyone had remained still through Kale’s conversation with Alexander until this point. Corten walked around the table as they continued to talk and took a chair, sliding it away from those next to him, and directed it away from the table. Kale could only see his profile as he sat in the chair.

“Redemption is something that a demon cannot do themselves. You cannot redeem your own body. Someone close to you has to do it for you. You were redeemed by your brother.”

“How? What do they have to do?”

“Many believe it involves petitioning Satan for the freedom of the other. Others think it has to come from a human sacrifice. Still others do not believe it can happen at all, or that it can fail very easily.”

“Which one is the truth?”

“All three. The sacrifice of a human is the least truthful of the three, as it does not involve a human in most successful cases. Those who believe it often choose to so that they do not have to sacrifice themselves, which results in a more complete redemption. If the sacrifice is a demon, it is more wholly powerful and long-lasting, if the redeemed party wishes it to be once they are of age and understanding.”

“I’m not sure I got all of that, but it’s whatever. You said my… brother sacrificed himself for me?”

“Yes. It was more effective than any we had ever seen before.”

“I did not know I had a brother.”

“You wouldn’t. The sacrifice does not result in complete annihilation of the subject, but it damages them. It is much more difficult for them to be redeemed after the fact. Redemptions are rare.”

“Is there any chance my brother will ever be redeemed? Could I do it?”

“Your case is an unusual one; that is what made it so powerful. Your brother was redeemed before his sacrifice.”

“So, what does that mean for him?”

“He has been damaged, as the sacrifice does, but the damage was not permanent as we expected it to be. It has actually strengthened him quite significantly. He has his temper tantrums—they are almost like echoes of the incident—but he has benefited from it more than any of us could have imagined.”

“Can I… Is he in hell?”

“No, he is here.”

“Will I ever meet him?”

“You already have.” Corten angled his head down as Alexander spoke and began tapping patterns onto the table next to him.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Corten is your brother.”

Kale looked at him in awe. He finally understood the connection they had—he thought he had imagined it. He understood why he trusted Corten without reason. He understood why Corten was his handler, why he offered rides and food and comfort. He understood why Corten was always tense when the group was talking about Kale like he wasn’t in the room listening, and he knew the meaning of every sympathetic glance he had ever received from him. Everything made sense like it had failed to before. Kale’s life was completely a result of his brother, the brother he never knew but always trusted.

Corten had not moved for a few minutes, his hand resting on his knee. The man didn’t even seem to be breathing. He simply stared into the floor in front of him, looking afraid of the situation he found himself in.

“LOOK AT ME!” Kale yelled. Corten’s hand startled and his head snapped up, eyes wide. The two looked at each other for a moment, Corten’s eyes slowly relaxing and his body turning to align with his head. Kale tried to speak multiple times, but no words came out. Finally, he choked and took in a shuddering breath. Kale could see the fear still present in Corten’s eyes.

“Thank you,” Kale whispered, and Corten let out a heavy breath he seemed to have been holding in. “I know I don’t really understand, but thank you.”

“Kale, the fact that you’re thanking me means you understand plenty. You’re welcome. I’m glad you’re here.” Corten smiled through tears silently streaming down his face, then stood up and walked around the table. Kale stood to meet him in an embrace he never thought would feel so complete. They both laughed and patted each other on the back.

“You knew who I was,” Kale said as he pulled back enough to look Corten in the face. “Last week in the café, you recognized me. That’s why you asked about my book.”

“I just had to know if it was you. I heard your voice, and I was sure, and I just had to try to tell you. I wanted you to understand.” Corten dropped his hands from Kale’s shoulders so they were simply standing facing each other. “After our first few conversations, I knew it would do you more good than harm. You seemed so okay with your life being so empty. I knew it could be more. I wanted you to have that option. And, now, here you are. Here’s your option.” Corten stretched his arms to either side, making a vague gesture to the room and the other men and Kale’s possibility for a meaningful future. “Is this okay?”

“This is… more than I knew I could have.” Kale smiled and tilted his head to the left a little. “I almost don’t know what to do with myself.”

“Join us!” Corten exclaimed a little too quickly and enthusiastically. “I mean, if you want. I want you to join us. We can teach you everything.”

“I want to join you. I’m already a part, in a way. I guess there’s more to find out, though.”

“So much more. Welcome. Are you ready to start?”