Chapter 2 Chpt

Gabby

Fourteen years later ...

To dodge the large, meaty fist that was aimed at my jaw, I jerked back with my head. I somehow just managed to get my tongue snipped. If he did the same move again, I'd be able to avoid it.

Damn. That was painful. Earlier, the bastard had been being reserved. Fortunately, I had learned from my many failures and was better prepared than before.

I lowered my eyes. My heartbeat became calmer as I took a big breath. If I wanted to survive this with only minor wounds, I had to focus. I had a feeling Uncle Gregor would not allow me to tap out this time.

Fuckhead.

My eyes popped open at the gentle sound of a boot turning on the floor. I sank low and missed his repeated swings. He was aware that I didn't make the same error twice, but he still made sure by testing me. Always.

His meticulousness was getting on my last freaking nerve, and these tests were starting to happen every day lately.

My cheek was kissed by a breeze. Did he truly believe I'd make a mistake again? G-man was becoming off-balance. I thought of punching him in the throat, but he was too cunning to be fooled by the blows. I would have to come near enough to touch his neck.

I calculated my chances of getting close enough to strike while keeping in mind that retaliation would never be worthwhile as I inspected the exposed skin over his carotid. I ducked once more and looked for a different part of his body to attack.

I managed to spin just out of reach as he surged forward. The more he attacked me, the more I considered our problematic family dynamics and how hard he was hitting me. A good example is when my nose was only a hair away from the knuckles.

My interactions with my uncle-and his fists-could best be described as complex. Unfortunately, my relationship with the male delivering me my current smackdown was far stronger than my one with my sire.

Uncle Gregor was somewhat lower on my list of He Who Deserves a Bitchslap than my father since, unlike my father, he had never tried to shoot my ass.

Although it might be a stretch to call it murder, what do you describe the moment when your soul is torn from your body?

I was struck out cold by two fast blows to the area just below my ribcage. He backed off after I retaliated with a knee to the stomach. absolute child's play.

The movement of Gregor's body occurred more quickly than the eye could follow. He was the clan's expert in managing his speed and movement. In front of anyone who was not the Other, slow and controlled were necessary.

In contrast to Father, Fabian was the one who always informed me that most people in this world were unable to handle anything even vaguely magical. They have an innate fear of anything seen as unique.

I was homeschooled and never allowed to leave the farm by Fabian because of this. He questioned my ability to control my gifts in front of the demeaning Homo sapiens.

He was the picture of authority as Dominus, head of the biggest demon clan in the Earth Realm. He needed to be able to freely move around people. He also can defend himself with a simple flick of the wrist. I possessed only a small portion of his might because my mother had been a human.

He repeatedly demonstrated to me how inadequate I was, and I despised him for it. But occasionally, especially when I saw him glancing at me with eyes that occasionally resembled wariness, I questioned which of us required the confirmation.

I wasn't helpless.

I did a harder backhandspring than I should have at the slightest mention of that filthy little phrase. To avoid getting one of my boots on his chin, Gregor had to pause.

I knew from away that the win would be fleeting.

I realized my mistake as I tried to fix myself. My chances of dealing with a beating were being ruined by the ruminations in my thoughts. I had overcorrected while distracted. He intended to hold me accountable as well.

I was struck in the temple by the Greg-a-nator once more, this time with a flawless roundhouse kick. He was able to swing a leg before I could block it because I lost focus and backed up too much.

My body was dropping on the exercise mat in free fall. At least my soul was still inside of me. A few minutes of unconsciousness were vastly preferable.

Without the soul, a being could not survive. Although your heart may be beating, you are not truly alive. You're just a shell. Daddy Dearest taught me that the body is merely the soul's home and is meaningless apart from the spirit.

With a soul firmly in his fist, he could issue an order, and the body would carry it out without question-apart from the command itself, which was input and processed by the brain's network of neurons.

It's like turning someone into a computer, he said.

I compared it to becoming a zombie.

I'll never forget how it felt to be the victim of the first furatus-the demon term for snatching a soul from a body that doesn't want it. I was altered by it. Additionally, it provided me something priceless, something the Dominus would never permit me to even aspire for.

Leverage.

Strange that when my world went black and Gregor stood above me shaking his head in disapproval, my mind would decide to think back on that particular day.

I got hit in the face with ice-cold water, which jolted me out of my reverie. Similarly, this had become ingrained in my experience to the point where I was no longer startled when the liquid splashed into my mouth and nose.

You do realize that, girl?

It was more difficult to pry open my thick eyelids than to raise a Volkswagen. I scratched my temples, certain that a forty-ton freight train had plowed into me.

Mateus, one of the elite troops who also resided in the manor, received the bucket from Gregor. My former sparring partner was my age. He was the only creature I considered a friend. I gave them each a glare.

"Gregor, you could have killed me."

I sat up and dragged myself to my feet after the tilt-a-world in my mind stopped.

"Gabby, don't let your guard down."

"G, I'm serious!"

"As am I. You are a half-demon, do you need me to tell you that? Which makes you very difficult to kill.

Yes, but...

Nothing but. You let your guard down. You've never before misplaced it. I trust you understand the consequences of doing so. You did well to create some distance between us, but as soon as you turned around, you ought to have been alert and prepared for the next assault.

"Of course, G. I muttered, lowering my guard, and offered a clumsy salute.

I wasn't trying to be ironic. I would now always be on watch. I never made another serious error after the first one. I regretfully made a shitload of new errors. I should have been named Calamity, Gregor would frequently say.

And stop addressing me as G. It's not my name; it's a letter.

After grinning and chuckling at me, Mateus hurriedly looked away when Gregor turned to face him.

Mateus, don't encourage her. She already poses a threat.

Mateus laughed once again as I yelled at him behind his back.

"Do you have to always be so...you?" Gregor grumbled.

Why must you always be such a jerk? I responded while trying to ignore the pain under my ribs. The only weapon I found challenging to learn how to block was words. Why was being me such a problem?

A lot.

"AGabbya, watch your language."

When I heard my father's voice, I tightened up. In recent months, I had only occasionally seen him. He had been going back and forth to the Otherland and other crossings, taking care of whatever needed to be taken care of. I made it my mission to be present whenever he was home.

I could only go as far as this building without breaking any laws because it was on the other side of the property. Additionally, I used to go there for what I thought of as therapy, pummeling the men who worked for my father.

Because I was supposedly dangerous to them, women were never allowed to spar with me. My greatest source of pride came from that. Of course, there weren't many things in my life that I could feel this way about.

Mateus stood up straight like a good soldier boy. Shortly after stealing my virginity while we were both seventeen, he started becoming unusually cautious around Fabian. He didn't need to bother. Who I boinked didn't matter to Fabian one bit.

The way Gregor responded was characteristic of him. He did nothing more than nod his head in his brother's direction.

"I'm sorry, Dad." Not me. I was speaking the scripted phrase out of habit.

He disregarded my apology and carefully made a lap around the room with his hands tucked in his pockets. In the training area, his light grey three-piece suit and expensive polished shoes stood out as being inappropriate.

Fabian didn't appear to be a day older than 35. Never would his thick, dark hair become grey. Barring any harmful spells the witches or fairies could conjure, his body would continue to be in good shape and be powerful.

One of the numerous benefits of being a demon was having attractiveness and eternal youth. That combined with any Fortis' high sex desire made for an alluring combination. Mateus claims that this is true, at least for the human chicks.

Fabian undoubtedly received some female interest. I believed my mother had succumbed to it. I'm grateful that he kept his sexual life hidden from me. Already, my upbringing had been severely flawed.

I was following his movements because I had spent years trying to identify the greatest threat in space. He moved slowly, studying the many weapons displayed on the walls as if they were artifacts in a museum. No weapons were required for the father. The most lethal weapon of all was him.

No matter if the mother was a human or an Other, males of our race have always been stronger than females. Who knew there could be sexism in the genetic code? What a letdown I must have felt on the delivery table.

Mateus, I want to have a private conversation with Gregor and AGabbya.

The young man gave his Dominus a bow and then turned to leave, giving me a fleeting glance. On the concrete floor, fifteen footsteps could be heard. The time between the door's opening and shutting clicks was 4.2 seconds.

Sometimes, as it has done since birth, my brain kept note of the unimportant details. Anything that Dad thought was pointless, he detested.

"Status?" Fabian questioned as he carefully examined an arrow tip he had taken out of one of the numerous quivers.

Gregor looked me over while crossing his arms. Why was the scary uncle staring at me?

"Excellent memory. Exceptional accuracy was achieved with each weapon tested, notably the bow. more than capable in hand-to-hand combat. good equilibrium. Strong. Quick. likes to use the C-4 to destroy stuff. swears profusely, but you were already aware of it.

I tightly pursed my lips to keep my grin hidden. Never before had I received such adulation. I began hand-to-hand training not long after I turned seven. I mastered the bow, several throwing stars, and even the long spears by the time I was fourteen.

Although no one said it, I was a natural. The warriors didn't give each other high fives.

Gregor had until this year refused to allow me to train with a blade, reasoning that I would be better off learning evasive techniques and becoming proficient with weapons engaged from a distance. I was female and so smaller and weaker, so I knew that was why. Years of pleading later, he gave in.

"So, nothing new?" you ask. Gabriel scowled.

Both yes and no. She has long had a preference for short swords. She has an odd fondness for katanas. Nearly as excellent with them as I am. She will soon surpass me.

My father was interested in that. Less than a week after receiving the katanas, I had spent almost all of my free time learning how to utilize them.

They came from Gregor as an early birthday gift. They weren't, but I pretended they were since he had given me the weapons a few days earlier and my 21st birthday was the following day. Girls could have dreams.

Incredulous, Fabian exclaimed, "You're kidding."

With his dual blades, my uncle had been practicing his techniques for centuries. Only a few days had passed since I began exercising with them. To be fair, ever since I was old enough to consider it, I had been observing and mentally compiling what he could accomplish with the weapons.

I never laugh.

Gregory was accurate. He was utterly without humor. I was more interested in my father's question's motivation. He wasn't one for idle conversation or checking in on me for any other reason than to chastise me or give me instructions.

"Father-"

"Quiet. Gregor: "Is she ready?"

"I think she is,"

Prepared for what? I queried.

To carry out your obligation to your kin, Fabian retorted.

I released the breath I'd been holding without even realizing it. It wasn't all that horrible. Fabian was curious as to how I would fare in a fight. I hadn't been outperformed by men with decades of training and actual fighting experience in over a year, except for my sparring sessions with Gregor.

In terms of gender roles and abilities, I was aware that I was an outlier. But truly, nobody seemed surprised given who my father was.

The clan's demons all acquired fighting skills. It made sure that we could control our behavior and deal with anyone trying to enter or depart the Otherland without authorization. Everyone has to go through training.

A lot of the other factions, many of which had the potential to become enemies, saw our might as we increased our force. This was especially true for those who were physically able to watch over the other crossings.

Only the most ferocious of animals guarded each passage in the Earth Realm. Their responsibility was to make sure there was no unauthorized traveling. On the opposite side of each crossing, some Gatekeepers had the same goal.

Only a select few immortals had the skills-or the guts-to cross between realms without being noticed. Everyone was concerned about the outcomes, whether they would come from the Gatekeeper or the crossing itself.

Supernatural creatures born in the Earth Realm might enter the Otherland very easily. Many were captivated by the abilities of what effectively served as portals to the lands where magic is said to have originated. There, we would be more powerful.

Unfortunately, very few were able to return. It was practically certain to be a one-way excursion. Only extremely powerful individuals, like my father and uncle, could withstand the depletion during the return trip to the Earth Realm.

None of that was a concern for me. My responsibility was to acquire the skills to defend the clan if necessary. Why, however, did my stomach still feel uneasy when everything made sense?

"Gregor, on second thought, I'd like to speak with my daughter privately."

If you'd like, I'd be pleased to explain everything.

"No."

Gregor paused. Fabian kept staring at his younger sibling till he finally averted them.

It was the largest act of defiance my uncle had ever put on. My stomach began to bubble as acid slowly burned its way up my esophagus.

"Very good. When you two are through, Gabby, come find me.

I smiled at Gregor and gave him a nod while thinking about my lip. When Fabian Petrov wanted to be alone with me, bad things happened.