The Demon in Me

By Ashley Tomlinson

Akari has been murdered. 

 

In her last moments she sells her soul to ensure revenge against her murderer. Now, she's a demon in Hell working for the Devil himself to collect souls from others.

 

She has to live with the consequences of her rash, last-minute decision – falling in love with the Prince of Darkness possibly the biggest of them all.

 

When Akari learns that a dangerous demon is trying to overthrow Lucifer and escape to Earth with millions of other rebel demons, she knows she has to take action. But how can Akari, a young, novice demon, stop another vying for the throne of Hell with an army on his side?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ashley Tomlinson
• Release date: May 5, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393112259

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Copyright © 2020 Ashley Tomlinson

This is a work of fiction any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

First edition 2020

Front cover image by Drop Dead Designs.

Edited by Red Adept Editing.

Published by Animus Ferrum

P.O. Box 1035

Turner, OR 97392

Www.Animusferrum.com

Printed in Turner, Oregon

ISBN: 978-0-578-67684-5

Library of Congress Number: 2020906646

This book is for my Grandma Katie. I got my love for reading and writing from you. I just wish you were here to read this because I think you would have really liked it. It’s dark and twisted, just how you liked your books.

Forever in my memories.

Katie Lynch

1949 - 2007

When she’s mad; even the demons run for cover...

Prologue

A Beautiful Revenge...

Idon’t know how I got here or who this person is, but that doesn’t stop me from watching him. Silently, I stand watching this stranger as he sleeps in a bed that is also unfamiliar to me. Leaving crosses my mind briefly, but something is holding me in place.

I was drawn to this house. I was walking in the dark of night, along the empty streets, and this place called to me. It was easy for me to slip into the dim, silent house. The stairs didn’t utter a single creak as I crept up them. The only sounds heard throughout the house are the soft snores of the man in front of me and a dripping plop.

Drip, drip, drip—it is a steady noise, and it is close. It’s in the same room as the sleeping stranger and myself. He stirs gently in his sleep, rolling over to his back and revealing his face to the cold night air and to me.

His face shocks me. I’ve seen it before, in the terrible lighting of a bar. He was charming as he was slowly getting me drunk the previous night. He wouldn’t stop telling me I was beautiful and stroking my face. To my drunken eyes and ears, it was sweet. If only my mind had not been corrupted with alcohol, if only I had stayed home, I may still be alive.

Instead, I stand before him, covered in mud and my own blood. I now realize that the dripping sound is coming from me. My once-white dress is now a dingy brown with a mixture of dirt, blood, and water from his sprinkler system trailing down the front and down my legs until it collects on the floor at my muddy feet. The front of my once-gorgeous dress is now torn, revealing most of my torso, and the hem is beginning to fray. My shoes are in front of the bathroom, where he must have left them when he carried my lifeless body down the stairs and into his basement. That was the last room I would ever see.

I stand there looking at the man who killed me. The man who is responsible for killing many other women that were all in the wrong place at the wrong time, just as I was.

A smile crosses his face in his slumber. He’s probably thinking back to the previous night when he brought me back to his place and proceeded to take me up the stairs. In my mind, I was in for a night of regretful fun, until he suddenly changed. He shoved me against the wall before he began to strangle me. I tried to fight back, but with the amount of alcohol in my system, it was useless.

It all turned dark for a while. Then I woke up tied down to a bed, not this bed but a cold metal bed. I still wore my white dress, and it was carefully tucked beneath me as if he cared about my comfort. There was something tied around my mouth so tightly it was digging into the sides of my face. Tears came to my eyes as I realized I was going to die here, in this house, because of this seemingly charming guy.

Stepping out of the shadows was the man that was about to kill me. There was a plethora of surgical tools on a tray in his hands. Sorry about this, beautiful was all he said before he took out a scalpel and began cutting into my abdomen.

I wish I could say my death was instant. I wish this murderer would be able to rot behind bars for the rest of his life, but he won’t get that chance.

Anger boils inside of me at the sight of him sleeping as if he didn’t just strip me of my life. He took me from parents, who would never know what happened to their twenty-seven-year-old little girl. My body is buried in a shallow grave in the middle of the woods behind his house. Will anyone ever find me or the others buried back there? Only time will tell, but the police will find one body tonight: his.

Something happened to me when I was wishing for my own death, when I had given up on begging for anyone or anything to save me. Something answered me; it just waited until I was already dead to answer my prayers.

Two men stood before me after I died, one dressed in all white and one in all black. I was given an option, and I’m not sure I chose correctly. The man in white told me to go with him for everlasting peace. The man in black told me to go with him if I wanted revenge for not only my death but for those of all of the women that my murderer had killed before me. At that moment, I was so filled with pain and anger that revenge was all that consumed my mind. Even in death, I was angry.

I now know that what I chose was the wrong choice, but there is no going back. So I silently step out of the black puddle and up to the side of the bed, still watching him with an intense glare. The closer I get to him, the more I know what I must do.

The last step I take is the first time I make a sound. It’s a small creak, but it’s enough to awaken mister charming.

His eyes grow big when he recognizes me, and he tries to jump out of bed, but that doesn’t happen. I’m too fast for his slow mortal body; I’m also too strong. I pin his body down to the bed, using only my weight. My mouth begins to water at the very thought of what I’m about to do. Please, don’t hurt me, he begs, and tears start to come from his eyes.

You mean the way that you hurt me? I whisper in his ear.

My teeth start to protrude out of my mouth, and they are so sharp that they cut my lip on their way out. A growl erupts from my throat as I bite down on his delicate throat. His scream turns into a gurgle before no sounds come from him at all. I have stripped him of his life just as he has stripped not only me of mine but so many others of theirs before me.

His blood drips from my chin and down my body until it lands on his chest. A bloody smile plays at my lips as I look at his lifeless body. Though I know I have to spend an eternity in hell for the decision I made, it’s rewarding to know he will never kill again.

You’ve done well, comes a voice from behind me. The man dressed all in black holds his hand out to me, urging me to take it.

There is no longer a choice for me because I gave it up when I chose revenge. I’ve made my peace with that.

Let’s go. I have much for you to do.

I take his hand, and we make our way down the staircase. A trail of blood follows me throughout the house and out the door. When we emerge outside, there are police cars everywhere, but they all run right by us as if we’re not even there. There is shouting, and neighbors in their pajamas are all looking toward the charming house. I turn back and watch as they storm into the house with flashlights and guns raised. I smile knowing what they are about to find.

The demon beside me laughs as we continue our walk, unseen, down the street. I believe you will make the news for killing the son of the mayor of this fine city. It's a shame they will never know of the dark things he has done. Sometimes revenge isn’t the answer, because now people will mourn the death of a serial killer. Worst of all, they will never find the bodies of any of the young girls that he has killed, and there are hundreds of them.

I grow cold knowing that because I made a rash decision, I have ruined everything. True, he will no longer kill, but now no one will ever know that he killed in the first place.

And don’t worry, beautiful, you won’t be cold for much longer.

If you don't deal with your demons, they will deal with you, and it's gonna hurt.

-Nikki Sixx

1

THE DEMON GUIDES ME through the pits of Hell, keeping a firm grasp on my arm the whole time. The heat is terrible. I feel like my blood is beginning to boil beneath my skin, and my lungs are finding it hard to get oxygen to my body. I falter, making the demon sigh and pull me closer to his side. I cringe, not wanting to be close to him, but I don’t have the strength to fight him.

Don’t worry, beautiful, you’ll get used to it, he says with a sneer on his lips. He steps away from me and pulls me behind him along the heated streets, where lava pours out like waterfalls into pools of liquid fire. Someone is pushed into a pool, and their screams reverberate through me. I move to cover my ears, but the demon won’t let me go, so I can only manage a hand over one ear. I cringe at the sound of the screams. I want to help them, but what could I do? Whatever I would try would probably end in myself burning up along with them. Even though I don’t want to, I can’t stop myself from watching the person being consumed by the fire. Soon, the demon that pushed them into the pool reaches in and pulls them out. Their skin is black and smoldering, but in seconds it’s back to a more natural complexion. Then, without hesitation, the demon pushes them into the pool of fire once more. It appears that this poor person suffers this way day in and day out, repeatedly getting pushed into the fire and pulled back out just to get pushed in once again. Finally, I tear my eyes away and look ahead of me.

My senses are overwhelmed with everything else going on around me. Every religion talks about the overbearing heat, but there are so many things not talked about that I’m witnessing. Brimstone—the scent that people name when trying to describe Hell—is the most pleasant of the smells I’ve encountered during my stroll through the streets here. Burning flesh seems to be a permanent odor in the air. It also smells like rotting meat for some reason. I once heard that demons smell of rotting meat, so maybe it’s them I’m smelling. I want to cover my nose, but I fight it. I will not show any kind of weakness. If they knew the smell was getting to me, then they might figure out a way to use that against me.

There are too many sounds pouring into my ears at once to try to decipher each one. The loudest of them all is the screaming. There are loud growls every so often, which make me want to walk closer to the demon, but I don’t. I keep my pace and try not to let my fear show. I don’t look at the other demons that pass us, but I can feel them looking at me. When I catch a glimpse of one, I quickly look away, wishing I never looked in the first place. The visual is burned onto my retinas, so I see it even when I blink my eyes—its tall, horned form with rows upon rows of sharp teeth dripping blood. It is dragging a man by his long hair, which is wrapped firmly around its clawed hand, and its hooved feet leave indentions in the road that repair instantly as it walks. 

I use my free hand to wipe at my drenched forehead, pushing my hair off it. I wish I could put my hair up so that it doesn’t stick to the back of my neck, but I can’t. I do the best I can to move my hair off my wet skin with the arm that’s not in the firm grasp of a demon.

Finally, the demon that is half dragging me behind him comes to a stop in front of a mansion. There is a freaking mansion in the middle of Hell? It is surrounded by a black fence with sharp points tipped in red, which I hope are just paint. The house itself is a gothic style with gargoyles on the roof and along the path. The gate opens on its own, letting us through.

I don’t fight it when I’m pulled inside the gates, which close as soon as we step to the other side. I don’t struggle as I’m practically dragged along the cobblestone walkway to the front of the house. I do, however, jump and cower away when one of the gargoyles along the path growls and takes a step toward me. Down, the demon snarls, and the creature settles back to its spot as if the whole thing didn’t just happen. It sits still like it was before, but its eyes follow us as we move around it.

The house is more intimidating the closer we get to it. Its dark exterior looks like the burned flesh of the person that we left behind on the walk here. The door is painted a shade darker than the house, making it look like an open mouth about to swallow me whole. For the first time, I dig my heels in, trying to stop the door from consuming me. The demon jerks me toward him, facing me for the first time since we were together in the mayor’s son’s room. Don’t make me have to carry you in there. It’ll be much worse for you if you fight this, he says, his eyes glowing black like the house.

When it’s clear to him that I’m not going to fight him anymore, he pulls me through the gaping mouth that is the door. I close my eyes, not wanting to see what’s inside. I’m greeted with cool air for the first time since all of this happened. I open my eyes, and my mouth drops open as well at what I see. The house is like any other house. There is no fire or brimstone. No one is being punished inside. It’s light and airy. I turn to look back out the door, seeing the darkness and death behind me, and then look in front of me again at the white walls and light-gray furniture. There’s even a chandelier hanging above my head, glistening in the light.

I don’t have long to marvel at the interior before grabby hands is pulling me once again to a closed door. Actually, it’s a set of French doors with red curtains covering the windows, so I can’t see what lies ahead for me. He knocks on the door, not releasing my arm from his ironlike grip.

Enter, a voice on the other side of the door says. The doors both swing open by their own accord, making me flinch and try to pull away. I’m shoved through the doorway, and the doors swing closed behind us, shutting us in the room with whoever is sitting in a chair facing away from us.

I look around, not wanting to see the other side of the chair. There is a couch and two armchairs around a modern-looking fireplace. In front of me, there is a big mahogany desk with a laptop on top and nothing else. There are two small bookcases filled with books on either side of a giant bay window. My eyes drift to the large red rug on the floor, which has black swirls on it in some sort of design. I’m sure to some that would be cool, but to me, it looks a bit too busy.

You can leave, Xic, a voice says, knocking me out of my thoughts. The demon releases me and walks out the room without saying a word. Xic? That’s his name? It doesn’t sound very threatening, I think to myself. Then the chair begins to turn, and all thoughts leave my head instantly. I glance at the doors that are closing behind Xic and debate making a run for it. I wouldn’t if I were you, the voice says, making me look back to the desk in front of me.

First, my eyes go to the elbows resting there, and then they travel up to the face cupped in the two scarred hands. I don’t know quite what I was expecting, but this handsome man wasn’t it. His blue eyes are so piercing that I almost can’t look into them. Let me guess, you were picturing some grotesque creature with horns and goat legs? I open my mouth to protest, but he holds a hand up, stopping me. Save it. I don’t really care.

We stand looking at each other. I try to stop my eyes from roaming over his handsome face, but it’s like they have a mind of their own. His seem to be suffering the same fate. I can feel his eyes moving over my body like they’re burning a trail into my skin. A shiver runs down my spine at the heat I’m feeling, and I try to shake it off.

Would you like to have a seat, beautiful?

That word makes me grind my teeth. It was what he called me. He didn’t even ask me my name. He just called me beautiful, and then he killed me. That’s not my name, I say without thinking.

A smirk crosses the man’s face. I know your name, Akari. The color drains from my face at hearing my name come out of his mouth. Akari Koga Walker, born in Seattle, Washington. Your parents are Ian and Hana Walker, both born in America. Your mother was raised by her traditional Japanese parents, but she seems to have struck away from tradition. Your father has Irish roots, but his family has been in America for generations. Need I go on? he asks,