Chapter 1: A Deal with the Devil - Part 1

The trees tore past Joanna Nixon so fast that their blurred branches made her stomach churn, only adding to the anxiety that ripped at her chest. Every time she felt a buckthorn branch snag at her dress, or when her foot dropped farther than expected—jarring her entire body—she was reminded of the rocking carriage rides that she used to take with her parents. She was reminded of their smiles. The sound of their laughter.

She feared she would never get their blood off of her hands.

The light of the flames that hungrily tore through the Victorian home she had lived in since her birth dimmed as she slipped through the forest. She allowed herself one brief peek over her shoulder, forever committing the last sight of home to memory. She took a deep breath, drinking it all in and freezing it in time as she turned away to continue her frantic escape. As she felt the raised root loop around the top of her foot, it was already too late. She felt her ankle snap, and the noise that came out of her mouth was almost inhuman. The scream ended quickly, however, when her head struck stone and her head began to swim.

The sound echoed out into the vast reaches of the night, and even in her dazed state, Joanna knew that much more than the owls and wolves had heard her cry out. The redcoats would be upon her soon. She pressed her fingers into the dirt, giving every ounce of strength she had left to move herself into a kneeling position. Her arms shook and her vision swayed violently, but she bit her lip against the pain, refusing to look down at the bone she could already feel protruding from the top of her foot. She couldn’t breathe, and she remembered for the first time that she was still wearing the corset she had donned that morning. She struggled to catch her breath, tearing at the strings that bound the corset to her, feeling the knots slip through her fingers time and time again, and she began to weep in helplessness. She couldn’t tell if it was the terror of being caught, violated, and murdered that made her cry so, or if it was that she lacked the strength to protect her family from the same fate.

As the hounds began to howl, the knot finally broke free and the corset came loose. Air flooded into her lungs, and Joanna felt like someone had just blasted every muscle in her body with a shot of that foul, bitter, black sludge that her father sipped every morning with his newspaper. She began to push against the cold ground once more, striving to regain her footing, but as she shifted her legs beneath her the broken ankle sent waves of agony through her body. She began to weep once more as she tried to move, writhing on the dirt path in the dark. She knew that she could afford no wasted time, but every cell in her body begged her to give up. She heard the shrill whinny of horses and she clapped a hand over her mouth to staunch the seemingly unstoppable sobs, slowly dragging herself from the old foraging paths behind their estate, burying herself in the thick brush that surrounded them.

The light of torches rushed past, but she held her hand so tightly over her mouth that her knuckles whitened and her jaw ached. But she would not make a sound. She would not be found. She would survive.

She had to survive.   

‘Jo, dear. Can you hear me?’

She whirled around, rolling onto her back in the underbrush, trying to find the source of the raspy voice. “Who’s there?” she hissed. Despite her best efforts to be quiet, her voice seemed to cut through the branches that surrounded her like a knife. She felt a hand brush across the nape of her neck, and she whirled around once more, feeling the foliage of the berry bushes scraping her skin. Was she going mad? Was she concussed? Perhaps she had hit her head harder than she had thought.

‘Oh, no. Not quite, Jo. Not mad. Not concussed. But believe me when I tell you that is the least of your worries. I’d much rather be mad, myself.’

Her eyes darted to and fro, and she bit her lip so hard she could taste copper. “Please. Please, whoever you are, you have to help me. Please,” she begged, every plea coming a little louder and bringing her a little closer to the racking sobs that would get her caught. “These men are monsters. They want my father’s land. Something about gold beneath the fields, and when he refused to sell it to them, they came back and…and…oh god, they’re all dead,” she wept.

‘Hmm. Yes. Quite terrible, indeed. Have you ever read about monsters Jo?’

“I…I don’t understand. What are you talking—”

The shadows before her seemed to grow blacker and blacker, as if instead of darkness masking the forest around her, it was consuming it. The shadows shifted and stirred like smoke, and when the eyes like glowing embers opened within them, her heart stopped. Her mouth opened to scream, but a bony hand shot from the pit of emptiness and closed around her face so tight that nothing but muffled protest sounded.

‘Shhhh. You don’t want your monsters to find you, do you?’ the voice cooed, a vicious laughter piercing through her, even as men raced by seemingly unable to hear her companion. ‘I am going to go out on a limb and say the answer is no.’ The grip on her face loosened, and she breathed heavily, too terrified to move away from the assailant.

“Answer?” she asked.

‘Come now, Jo, keep up. I asked you if you had read about monsters. There are so many things to learn from a good book, you know. So many wonderful things.’

The shadow’s hand reached out once again, falling upon hers, and in the briefest of moments, she felt her heart stop. She saw one of the redcoats holding her mother down, his pants around his ankles, and her screams filling the room. Joanna’s long chestnut hair hung matted around her face, stuck to her sharp, sculpted features by tears, blood, and sweat. Her father’s head rolled into her hands. She heard the laughter of the pretty boy soldier as he wiped the blood off of the knife he had used to dismember the man who had protected her for as long as she could remember. She felt an anger rising in her that she had never felt before. She felt a hatred eating at her chest, burning into her so ferociously that she could have sworn that her dress was aflame.

Then she saw a man she had never seen before. Not exactly a handsome man, though he was comely in his own right. He had long, raven colored hair, thin lips, and a crooked nose. His jaw was slim and hard, feminine and yet masculine all in one, and he was peering out of a window as an army of people approached. Their torches cast an orange glow across both land and sky alike, causing the farming tools they carried to gleam in the dark. His face flashed in her mind, his mouth dripping crimson, and his hands soaked in the same. She saw a coffin—the holy crucifix of her lord emblazoned upon it—and the rich soil that it lay in. The forest that it was buried beneath. The Victorian style home that burned in the background, and the men in red that scoured the woods around it.

As he let her go, she dropped to her knees. Her tears had stopped, and she felt as if every thought that she had ever had vanished. Her mind was completely blank, and all that existed was his voice.

‘Now you know where I sleep. I’ve been watching you for a long time, Jo, and believe me, I am dying to meet you.’ The laughter rose once more, as if there were no greater joy than to hear the sound of his own voice.

Joanna Nixon narrowed her eyes, and clenched her teeth until her gums felt like they would tear. Every empty place in her mind was slowly flooding with the hatred and anger that she had felt when he had touched her hand. As she leveled her gaze, meeting those blazing red orbs, there was nothing but fury burning in her amber eyes.

“What do you want?”

‘Why, to help you of course. I mean, if you want to get specific, I want you to help me much more than I care to help you, but none-the-less, I am most certainly offering you compensation in return for your aid.’

“What compensation?”

‘Blood, my dearest Joanna. Blood. Don’t you want to look into the eyes of your mother’s defiler as he breathes his very last? I can help you do it. All you have to do is say ‘yes’ to my offer. I will give you the power you desire. The strength to destroy your enemies, and you will—”

“Yes.”

‘Whoa now, darling, you haven’t even heard what it is I want in return.’

Joanna’s fists tightened together, and she stood up from her crouched position on the ground. This time not even the pain that pounded against her ankle could keep her bound to the earth. Her amber eyes shone in the light of the torches that canvassed the area, and it was as if the fire of hell was burning within them. She took one last, hard look into the glowing embers that lay within the shadows in front of her, and her face twisted into the visage of hate.

“I don’t care what you ask of me, demon. If you give me the strength to see justice done, I will give you anything you could ever ask of me. Even my life.”

‘You know. I think you might be my favorite, Jo,’ the voice stated, and the hand protruded from the shadows once again, latching onto Joanna’s wrist. ‘But the thing about monsters is, usually to kill one, you need to be one.’

She had a brief moment to see the shadows twist into the semblance of a face—one with a sharp, feminine jaw, and  masculine tone to it—and the horrible grin that lay within it, before a pain that she could never have believed was real coursed through her entire body. She could feel him inside of her as he moved through her veins, and she knew that her soul was lost forever.

Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as the black, smoke-like essence filtered into her blood. She could feel it surging through her body, and she could identify the darkness that it carried immediately. She couldn’t explain how, but she could feel it inside of her like a disease. But…she liked it. She lifted her broken foot into the air and regarded it with an inquisitive look as the bone seemed to pull itself back into her leg. Simple moments later, every trace of the wound had disappeared. A smirk slowly grew across her features, and she bit her lip. A feeling much like pleasure worked its way from her stomach to her spine, tingling all the way up to the nape of her neck. Every moment that passed, she felt the bloodlust claim her, and every small bit more that she wanted to fight against it, she learned she wanted to give in twice as much.

As she found her footing, testing the previously broken limb with a few quick stomps, she almost jumped, hearing a quiet laughter all around her, steadily growing louder and louder. Her eyes darted to and fro, looking for the source of the laughter, until her eyes widened and she closed her mouth, realizing that she had been standing among the trees, laughing maniacally. The torches shifting through the forest all stopped simultaneously, and as the hounds snarls intensified, she knew they were almost upon her. All eyes were now on her. But, in the midst of the moment that could be the end of her life, Joanna felt clarity like she had never experienced before. A smile spread across her lips, and she was surprised to find no room in her mind for fear. She knew, beyond a doubt, that she would live. She knew that the voice she had contracted herself to would deliver exactly what it had promised.

Blood.

The hounds and their masters were the first to arrive, but as the men let their leashes go, the beasts tails sunk between their legs. They took one look at Joanna and her amber eyes, glowing with the light of the sun, and they turned, darting through the trees. The men did not have the same animal instincts that the hounds had, and they stood their ground against the woman moving toward them. She seemed to tower a hundred feet tall as they stared into her eyes, and their numb hands reached for their muskets as they looked at her, but they could not find the will to draw them. Joanna did not recognize either of the men’s faces. They were not her targets.

“Excuse me, but I seem to have gotten myself lost in the woods. I was looking for a fat swine with a golden cross-shaped medal hanging over his heart, and a pretty boy that likes to dawdle around him like a lost puppy. Both, of course, are among your ranks. They took something dear to me, and I need to get it back.”

“Are you outta yer damn mind? I know who you is. The captain’s offered anyone who brings you in a promotion. We jus’ gotta take you back to the town hall an’ let ‘im string ye up,” the first man piped up, though the second was fidgeting, kicking the mud at his feet.

“Well. That, my good men, is exactly what I was looking for. I know a promotion would suit a pair of strong, handsome, men like yourselves, but…aren’t there other things you might want. Things that are a bit more…fun?” she asked, her hand trailing from the crook of her neck to the laces that tied the chest of her dress together.

Her fingers found the strings expertly this time, and as she pulled them away, it left just enough of her dress open so that they would see her breasts tightly pressed together as she leaned ever so slightly forward toward them and licked at her lips. The man who had previously spoken took to the bait almost instantly, but the nervous one lashed out and grabbed him by the arm.

“I—I don’t think that’s a good idea Greaves. S—she don’t s—seem right.”

“What, are you afraid your little weasel won’t quite be enough?”

A soft laughter issued from Joanna as she backed away from the men slowly, going just a little bit further into the undergrowth and away from the main paths that had led the hounds and the men to her in the first place. The other torchbearers had perked back up and were trying to catch the trail of the vanished hounds and their masters, but when they came to the place where the woman’s laughter had originally come from, it would be long empty.

As Joanna edged backwards, the two men followed, the nervous lad being roused by his companions jests. As they rounded a bend, Joanna was waiting for them, her dress slipped down over one shoulder and her dress hiked up just enough so they could see the tops of her thighs.

“Hold this, boy. I’m takin’ this little whore first,” Greaves stated, grinning as he handed the nervous man his gun and loosened his belt. He failed to see the terror in the younger man’s eyes, and when the redcoat turned, ready to satisfy all of his lusty desires, instead of a woman poised to satisfy him, he was eye to eye with a snarling beast. The hounds that had run from their sides only a few minutes before were standing there now, their eyes seeming to sparkle with a dangerous light. “Whoa now, boy. Easy, now.”

The nervous man fell to his knees in horror as he watched the dog lurch forward and close its jaws around the man’s neck. The black fur around its muzzle gleamed as the blood washed over it in bursts that matched the man’s fading heartbeat, and the second dog rounded behind him, sinking its teeth into the man’s leg and tearing at the meaty thighs of those who had tormented them for so long. Keeping them trapped in a cage and beating them whenever they pleased. The hatred was all the animals could comprehend as they consumed the man piece by piece. When he had stopped resisting, and the animals could sense the chill of death on him, they rounded on the second man, their bloodied mouths gnashing hungrily as they looked at him.

“Now, now, my dears, don’t be so greedy. This one is mine.” Joanna walked out of the trees, blending through the shadows as if she had disappeared and were only now choosing to be seen once more.

She walked between the snarling dogs, placing a hand on the tops of their heads and hushing them quietly. The man was shaking, both his and his superior’s guns were laid down at his sides and he held his hands up in front of him. “Please. Please, I beg of you. D—don’t do this. I…I have a family. A little girl just a few months old, and a wife who needs me. I’m only here so I can make enough money to provide for—”

Joanna placed one finger on the man’s lips and she knelt down in front of him, looking directly into his eyes. She was about to speak when suddenly her vision went black and images swam before her as they had when the demon touched her arm. She saw her home, once again, though this time it was undamaged. The redcoat kneeling in front of her was arguing with his superior. ‘There has to be another way,’ he said, and the plea in his voice was honest. ‘We can’t kill these people just for their land. They’ve done nothing wrong.’ But his pleas fell on empty ears, and the men entered the home to commit their acts of ‘duty’.