Alice in Demonland

In Demonland, the weak died. And the strong? Well, they didn’t necessarily live either. Down here, even the weak were stronger than any human. That we could be killed was saying something. It had to do with our fathers. They were the greatest of all the demons. Beyond vile and wicked and willing to destroy their offspring at any cost—

“Alice, are you listening?” Peter’s words cut through my thoughts.

I snapped my head in his direction. “Of course,” I said, facing front once again.

Snickers filtered through the quiet and punched me in the gut. I was a warrior trainee and should be focused. My life literally depended on it.

“Good. Now, as I was saying…” Peter started up again. I tried to listen but found myself tuning him out once again.

We were in one of the enormous training rooms deep below Wonderland, Arizona, in our compound. It was a realm unto itself and was called Demonland. Aptly named because of what we did and where we came from.

Peter sauntered in between all of the trainees, me included, as he spoke, his hands behind his back. As he went, he would push out a trainee’s foot, so his stance was precisely hips-width apart or adjust the way one of us was holding our weapon. But it was hard to concentrate.

Because as soon as he stopped blathering on, we would play my favorite game, which was slaying menial demons. And I was antsy, ready to start. Peter, our trainer, was one of the greatest Dark Moth warriors ever to walk the Earth, and he didn’t seem to care that I was sick of instruction and itching to fight. He continued on and on about the demon order and how things began in the Demon Realm. As though where we lived was any better. Not in the slightest. Though the room was cool, sweat trailed down the center of my back and pooled between my breasts.

The worst part about Peter’s speech was I’d heard it at least a dozen times over the years. He needed to shut up already so I could slay me some demons.

“You know of the seven deadly sins?” Peter asked as though determined to try my patience. His eyes focused on mine.

I swallowed, forcing my mind to listen. “Yes,” I said as well as the rest of the trainees. They were as antsy as me. I could sense it. We were like the coil of a spring desperate to break free.

“Well, not only are they scary stories told in Sunday School, but they are also living, breathing demon royalty.”

Blah. Blah. Blah, I thought, but he wasn’t kidding. Unfortunately, some of those demons also happened to be our parents.

“The demons you’ll be fighting today are menials.” Peter pointed at the cage on the other side of the large instruction room. The pen had been fortified by troll magic, and every time a demon tried to slip between the metal bars, their nasty bodies were electrocuted.

A hundred of them growled and gnashed their teeth. The foolish ones threw themselves against the rods, making the air reek of burning demon hair and flesh. Not a pleasant scent when they already smelled like rotting eggs mixed with decaying corpses. They didn’t look much better, resembling oversized sewer rats with leprosy. Their skin appeared to be peeling off and oozed snot-looking liquid.

“They’re fast and devious,” Peter went on. “Killing them is easy if you can catch them. Don’t use your weapons unless you’re sure you have a clean shot, and avoid using your demon powers altogether. Otherwise, you’ll wind up killing one of the other trainees. Got it?” Peter gave me a direct look. “Alice, what did I just say?”

I forced myself not to roll my eyes. Peter was a great Dark Moth, but his father had been a Pride demon, which meant he had an inordinately high opinion of himself.

“Be careful. The menials are tricky. Don’t use our demon powers, but stick to our weapons.” My weapon of choice was a katana, but I also kept a small dagger in my right boot and a 9mm in a holster under my shirt.

“Very good.” His light gray eyes that exactly matched the rest of the Dark Moth trainees studied me. I was an oddity in many ways, but the most prominent was my eye color, which was a vivid blue.

“Queen of Hearts,” the guy on my right whisper-coughed.

Everyone around him snickered.

“Quiet!” Peter’s angry voice boomed. Even the demons stopped chattering. “There will be no name-calling. Use your energy on slaying the demons, and for Hell’s sakes, please focus.” The tension in the room shot up. “This isn’t a game…” he began and then trailed off as a giant smile filled his face, replacing the anger. “What am I saying? Of course, it is.” He clapped his hands.

The half dozen trainees around me joined in, cheering, hooting, and hollering excitedly. Because it was a game. One our father’s started thousands of years ago.

The demonic rules of our demon fathers were simple: Bed a woman. Wait until after their half-demon child was born. Kill the human mother. Once the child reached the age of maturity, which was eighteen, the real fun began. At least according to the demon sire. They would hunt their offspring and wouldn’t stop until the child, and everyone the half-demon cared about was dead.

“It’s so awesome,” said no one ever, including me. I wasn’t going to let some filthy demon hunt me down in its twisted game. Instead, I intended to take the fight to him. Well, in a manner of speaking. The other trainees knew at least something about their demon parent. They found out by the color of the marks on the backs of their hands once their abilities manifested. If their demon parent were Pride, like Peter’s, then the marks would become purple. Greed was gold. Those from a Lust demon had their marks turn pink. Envy was green. Gluttony demons produced orange markings. Wrath became red. And, Sloth half-demons had their markings turn blue. The marks on the backs of my hands had been black since the day I was born. They hadn’t changed colors, even when my abilities manifested.

It was yet another odd thing about me.

All Dark Moth trainees wanted to see our demon parent dead. Killing them was how we proved ourselves, how we became full-fledged warriors. Most half-demons, called Moths, were born without any extra powers. Those like me were the elite. Born with power equivalent to that of our demon sire. If we survived the deadly battle with the demon, then we became Dark Moth warriors. Our destiny was to fight for those Moths without the marks. We would become their protectors, their light in the darkness. That was what the Dark Moth Society did. It was why we were all in the compound preparing to kill as many menial demons as possible.

Practice for the real thing.

“And the winner gets a night off above ground,” Peter said, crossing his arms.

“Oh yeah. Watch out, Wonderland, here I come,” Steven said.

Peter chuckled. Walked over to the cage. Unlocked the padlock. “Get ready. In three. Two. One.” He jerked open the enclosure. Menials flooded out, stepping on and clawing each other to get at us.

I ran forward, pulling my katana from its sheath and driving it at the leading menial. Before it connected, the demon darted to the right and landed on top of Pamela, pulling her hair and digging his claws into her face.

“Hold still, you writhing little rat.” I brought my blade down across the demon’s neck, slicing it in two. Green blood spattered my face and got all over Pamela before it turned into a pile of dark ash.

Neither of us was fazed. “Thanks, Alice.” She spun, pulling an arrow from her quiver and sinking it into the stomach of the nearest demon. “Blue,” she shouted.

I went after two demons, cutting one of the Menials in half while sinking the blade from my boot into the eye of another. “Red and pink. That’s three for me.”

The others were counting, too, even though Wrythe, the ruler of our society, would decide the winner.

Eric and Wendy worked together, which wasn’t surprising given they were a couple. First, Eric would bait the demons, and Wendy would slaughter them. Then they would switch it up. I wondered if they fought together, hoping for a tie so they both would be able to go above ground.

I didn’t care whether I went into Wonderland or not. My goal wasn’t to have fun. All that mattered was I got plenty of practice so that when I met my demon father, I would be ready.

Still, it was great practice, and I quickly took out five more.

“Alice, save some for the rest of us.”

“Not a chance, Georgia.” I smirked. The girl was greedy, but then she was the half-demon offspring of Greed.

“Tell me something, Alice. If you win, what do you intend to do with your prize?” Georgia asked, slicing off the head of another demon.

“Enjoy it,” I responded, killing three more in quick progression.

She used her double-edged axe to kill another two demons. “Guess I better make sure you don’t win.”

“If you think you can.” I sliced through two more at once and stabbed another in the stomach. Then I spun around and cut through two before noticing four of the demons on Gilbert. He fell to one knee as one of the demons bit off his ear.

Gilbert screamed as deep red blood dripped from the wound.

I aimed and tossed the knife from my boot at the demon. The blade sunk deep between its beady eyes. The demon fell off, taking another of them with it to the ground. I ran forward and sliced through both.

“It’s over,” Peter’s loud voice boomed. “Do we have our winner?” He glanced over at Wrythe, who’d come in without my knowledge. Our king nodded.

“We do. Bring the trainees forward,” Wrythe commanded.

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