The Hidden: The Hybrids, #1

By C.C. Sommerly

Teagan's truth was hard to accept… 

…because one mistake cost her everything.

Would her next move save her?

She loved being a Marine. Getting assigned to the special demon hunting unit was the best day of her life. In a moment, she had to act. She pulled the trigger. It started a domino effect that ended her career and landed her in jail.

It isn't safe.

Many want her dead.

What started as a government experiment, mixing the DNA of demons with humans, spiraled out of control. They needed a perfect soldier to battle the demon invasion. What they got was more dangerous than they imagined.

Twice she was nearly killed.

Now, people Teagan doesn't know, stand before her. They're breaking her out. It's time to go. Can she trust them?

Does she have any choice?

The adventure begins.

You'll love this Urban Fantasy, because the fight for survival and acceptance keeps you reading until the very end.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C.C. Sommerly
• Release date: Jul 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393189282

C.C. Sommerly

CC has been known to trip on a perfectly smooth surface, burn herself when cooking and has an unhealthy attachment to coffee. As with her everyday life, she likes to bring a sense of unexpected to her stories, blurring the lines between good and evil with genre bending fiction. CC is a Marine veteran, who was born and raised in Redding, California. Currently, she lives in Virginia with her kids, cats and a crazy Doberman. When CC isn't writing, she can be found doing photography, reading, being outdoors or enjoying water sports.

Book preview

1

T o hell he did, I shouted at Cpl. Williams, who looked pissed at my response, but wisely shut his mouth. That prick of a Gunny was not getting away with this, not this time or any time.

I barged down the hall towards my destination, my fellow Marines wisely moving out of the way and clearing a path to Gunny’s office. They were used to this by now. The arguments with Gunny Mack were becoming legendary and this one would be equally so.

He couldn’t be this stupid, could he?, I wondered. I trusted the man with my life, but this new order, delivered by a nervous Cpl. Williams, had me wondering.

I stormed up to the office and flung the door open, You had no right to take me off demon patrol.

The lightweight door floated closed behind me, and I stalked to the front of his desk and didn’t wait for his response, Why am I off patrol? I was supposed to be on the rotation for another month.

Gunny continued reading his papers, paying me no more attention than the fly that was idling over his head.

Is this some kind of passive aggressive payback for being too heavy handed in the last demon skirmish?

With irritating calm, Gunny Mack slowly put down the papers he was reading and finally met my eyes. No, it’s not, although you’ve already managed to convince yourself that was the case. So nothing I can say will convince you otherwise.

Oh no, he wasn’t going to turn this around on me, I thought. If he wasn’t still pissed about that, then he was just being stubborn. A stubborn gunny was one that was as an unmovable as a mountain. Once he got something into his mind, it was set in stone.

Teagan, you’ve had three back-to-back rotations and you’re overdue for a new assignment.

It wasn’t unheard of to get extended with a specific duty or assignment, so his argument was bogus. I had saved tens of thousands of lives by taking out those demon armies. Not that I cared about the recognition. I was saving lives, keeping civilians ignorant of the true danger. Our government did a good job at concealing our battles. All citizens thought that we were no longer at war with the demons. It helped them sleep better and unfortunately, made them more open to accepting the monsters.

But it’s what I’m good at, no, what I’m great at. No one can neutralize threats better than me. I’ve personally got eighty demon kills on the books — think about how many lives I’ve saved because of that. Everywhere you see bedazzled people clamoring for more demons, like they are some damn celebrities. If they knew about the unsanctioned demons and the horror they cause, then they wouldn’t be so enamored.

The harsh lines in his leathery face softened as an unrecognizable expression crossed his face.

Life is not only about killing, Teagan.

I shifted on my feet, uncomfortable with the unusually rare show of emotion on the Gunny’s face. His normal craggy and lined visage returned a few seconds later. This was the face I knew — one that showed the strain of being in the military during and after the apocalypse — aging him far faster than life normally would.

The Demon Relations Committee’s new chapter office opening ceremony is tomorrow. The Demon Delegate himself will be there, and I expect you to be a part of the security detail.

What protection am I expected to give an Arch Demon?, I said with disgust. With the powers he likely has, he could take out a city block with a swing of his arm. He is literally the most powerful being on the planet. And, you’re taking me away from protecting people who don’t have the Arch Demon’s powers! And for what?.

Are you disobeying an order? Gunny responded quickly. His voice had a frosty edge and his eyes pierced into me. He was serious about this new assignment. I had already pushed him far beyond the normal limits. As much as I wanted to disobey, what he said was true. He was my superior.

Noticing my silence, he continued, Intel gave us information about an imminent threat against the Demon Delegate Angra Mainyu. With the recent demon assassinations by pro-demon factions, President, General Gridley, ordered the Elite Guard to provide security detail on all public demon events from here on out.

Of course, it was presidentially mandated. No arguing with the President, a.k.a., the Supreme Commander, I thought.

I’ll be there, Gunny, with the rest of the detail. As much as I don’t want to, I will protect a demon, I said.

2

The crowd of people clustered around the front of the building, pushing and straining to get closer to the shiny red ribbon, which blocked the door. It was a pitiful little thing to hold back the masses, but they were playing nice and patiently waited for the Demon Delegate to cut it and officially open the new building to the public. Perhaps, they were merely there to see what many people considered a dreamy Demon Delegate. He was one of the first higher demons that made an appearance on Earth after The Great Sundering in 2019. And more than thirty years later, he held a celebrity status with internet sites dedicated as fan sites like most actors and pop stars had.

For me, a demon is a demon no matter how handsome or human looking they seem. I didn’t care that his wings were compared to hematite with their gray to silver cast that shifted in the sunlight or that his violet eyes positively glowed.

I eyed the entrance and the hordes of humans pressing against the barricades, and the fluttering of the blood-red ceremonial ribbon catching my eye. It was too long for the posts it was connected to, and its ends fluttered lightly in the breeze like a streamer of blood. I shook myself from the morbid thoughts. Paparazzi with cameras at the ready and news reporters circled the crowd, waiting for the first glimpse of the Demon Delegate as anxiously as the crowd that was made up of mostly women.

I was positioned near the tree line, under the shade, which helped make the warm day bearable. No one seemed to notice me. The tree line was filled with some sort of sickeningly sweet flowered trees and bees lazily flying through the blooms. Whoever picked this location for the new office certainly hadn’t taken into consideration that the landscape provided ample hiding places – making it an absolute security nightmare.

I walked along the trees, scanning for any rogue demons, which despite the intel seemed unlikely. The hair on my arms rose up and the back of my neck itched. Someone or something is watching me, I thought. Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I forced myself to continue my leisurely pace, to not alert the watcher that I was aware of him or her. None of the security detail was close to me. They patrolled around the building and performed crowd control, so it was up to me to neutralize this threat. The Demon Delegate would arrive any minute.

I started whistling and nearly cringed from the off-tune ditty, hoping that the sound would distract the watcher from my actions, so I could take him or her by surprise.

Sensing movement to my left, I sprang towards the now-visible Morpho Demon. I quickly scanned for the facial tattoo that would indicate he was a registered demon. According to the treaty between humans and demons, all legitimate demons had a twisting, tribal-like tattoo on their face, which meant identifying rogue demons was easy. We couldn’t touch a registered demon, but we could take out any unregistered ones, since they were considered outlaws to both demons and humans.

The Morpho Demon resembled a giant slug and even had a slug-like slimy trail that it left in its wake. It lurched out of the tree line in a weird rolling and wave-like manner, heading towards the crowd. There was no tattoo on its face, so it was not a registered demon and was fair game.

I had only moments until crowd noticed the threat. The Demon Delegate’s limo moved up the driveway, conveniently diverting their attention from the threat. Raising my rifle, I aimed my sight on the demon, and fired three shots in quick succession. The crowd reacted, screaming and stampeding away in their panic. I saw my fellow Marines running towards me for backup — not that it was needed; the threat was eliminated.

I looked down and saw that I was knee-deep in demon guts. I slogged my way out of the slippery aftermath but managed to slide on my butt anyways. As I carefully rose, I was tackled from behind and thrown face first into the demon remains. So much for having my back guys, I thought. Lifting my face from the ground, I spat out a mouthful of salty and slimy guts. Instead of seeing a demon attacker, I saw the muzzles of several guns pointed at me.

Are you fucking kidding me right now? How about a hand? And, is Demon Delegate secured? I said.

Staff Sergeant Teagan, stay where you are and toss your weapons down. You are being detained for the murder of Demon Delegate Angra Mainyu’s son.

What the hell? That slug-like demon was the Arch Demon’s offspring? How was I supposed to know the Arch Demon went slumming and had a lesser demon as a son?

These were the same types of demons that Marine Intel said were behind the recent delegate assassinations. And, this was exactly why I was out here with the other members of the Elite Guard. Demon Delegate Angra Mainyu was a target as the DRC’s Committee Head.

Corporal Williams’ knee pressed hard against my back, forcing my attention back sharply to the crap ton of trouble I was somehow in. Why am I being subdued and treated like a criminal? This is total crap and an overreaction to an accident, I thought.

Drop your weapons, said Corporal Williams, who put more weight into the knee killing my kidneys.

I tossed my sniper rifle aside but couldn’t reach my sword to also toss it.

Unless you want me to keep my sword, you either need to loosen up on the knee crushing my kidneys or you need to detach the sheath and get it yourself, I said.

The pressure eased against my back and I slowly shifted my body weight to the side, so I didn’t spook him because he’d surely lost his damn mind. I unsnapped the sheath, tossing my sword on the ground next to my rifle. Corporal Williams wrenched my arms back and handcuffed me as soon as my sword was out of reach.

This is ridiculous. How was I supposed to know he was a legit attendee? We were told to be on the lookout for Morpho Demons and I’m no murderer, I said as best I could with my face still pressed into the ground.

Corporal Williams squeaked as a shadow loomed over me. Someone roughly pulled me up by my hair. My eyes locked on the Demon Delegate, who stood over me, his face twisted in anger.

His eyes cut into me as he said, Actually, you are a murderer, and I will see you penalized to the full extent of the law. If I had my way, you’d be turned over to my control and I’d make sure you paid for what you did to my son.

Please God, don’t let the Marines give me to him, I thought, suddenly overcome with fear. Despite their angelic appearance, shadow demons, like the Demon Delegate, were known not only for their ability to create overwhelming fear and nightmares, but also for their viciousness. The thought caused a shudder to wrack through my body. The Demon Delegate was scary to even a seasoned Marine like me. Please God, don’t let the Marines hand me over. I felt bad for killing an innocent, but it was an honest mistake. He was a potential threat and charged the area when the Delegate’s vehicle came in sight.

Why wasn’t his son with him? And more importantly, why wasn’t his son tattooed? The whole thing was suspicious. And made me wonder what the hell was going on.

3

Corporal Williams and the rest of the security detail hauled me back to the base and straight to the military police (MP) and promptly threw me into the brig, a.k.a., military jail. If people thought a civilian jail was bad, it was nothing compared to a military one. Things were much stricter, and you still adhered to all military rules and regulations, but without any freedom. The MPs walked me down to a special cell closer to the entrance and their offices. They had me change into a special inmate uniform — brightly colored to maximize the humiliation before tossing me into the single person cell.

Don’t I get one phone call? What happened to innocent until proven guilty? I asked.

I’d never been to jail or in any kind of trouble. I grew up in a Catholic family and still attended Mass. I never did drugs, drank or even rebelled in my teen years. Why wasn’t I being booked and released? Isn’t that what they did on TV? Why wasn’t I allowed to be on house arrest or something? Instead, I was stuck in a cell with a jail full of actual criminals. Give it another decade or so and humans would be sharing the cell with demons. For now, we managed the unregistered ones with capture, when possible and death more times than not.

I paced my cell until my legs got tired. Sitting down on the narrow and rock-hard bed, I contemplated my next move. I still didn’t fully understand everything that happened. The Delegate’s son was acting suspicious. I remembered that Corporal Williams was in charge of the security detail. Gunny thought the leadership position would be good career building. It was Williams who sent me to that stand of trees.

I jumped up to the cell bars and yelled, Guards! Is anyone out there? I want my phone call, a lawyer, hello!?

One of the guards, a tall and leanly muscled Marine, sauntered into view and narrowed his eyes as he saw me. Well, if it isn’t the Slayer, he said sarcastically. That’s what they are calling you now. Once word leaked to the media that you were here, a horde of reporters mobbed the main gate requesting entry. Them reports are saying we’re censoring and preventing freedom of speech.

Slayer? This is total bullshit. It was a misunderstanding, a mistake! Anyone else would react the same way.

No one else has your kill record. We all heard about your exploits; we know you get off on killing demons. You hate them — that’s what they’re all saying.

I want a lawyer. It’s my right.

When Warden says you can, he smirked, as he walked away whistling.

Jerk. I needed to know what my rights were and talking to a lawyer would be the quickest way to get that information. If what the guard said was correct, the media was already running a smear campaign by painting me as a ruthless killer and then having the nerve to claim the right to pester me, I thought.

I laid back on the bed and waited. I would either get a lawyer or I would eventually sleep. I had nothing but time on my hands at this point. I still hadn’t absorbed what happened. A heavy numbness and a nervousness made my stomach clench in worry that this would not end well. It was the kind of queasiness you get on patrol when facing down a raging demon and it is only quick thinking and your skills with weapons that make surviving such a powerful creature possible.

4

The next morning, the same guard from last night woke me, screaming, Wake up, Slayer! Wake up! Guess you’re luckier than I thought – you got a visitor.

As I approached the cell door, he ordered me to put my hands together to cuff me. Standard procedure when a dangerous prisoner leaves the cell, he explained, enjoying himself.

It rankled me being treated no better than a criminal. When other inmates passed my cell, none of them were restrained. He slapped the handcuffs on my wrists and tightly locked them, grinding my wrist bones together. I could already feel the blood in my hands being restricted from the pressure of the cuffs.

They’re too tight.

I don’t want to hear any lip from you. Act up and you can forget about your visitor. You’re not in charge around here.

We walked into a private room where I found a stranger waiting for me. The guard pushed me through the door. She’s all yours, Mr. Maxwell, and he slammed the door behind me.

I stared at the man before me. He looked like every other middle-aged lawyer from any movie or TV show. Or, maybe from some universal standard of dignified stoicism that was instilled in them through law school. He had salt and pepper hair, and wore a crisp, expensive-looking charcoal suit. His brown eyes were framed by metal rimmed glasses and his hair was slicked back. The lawyer studied me as I studied him. Maybe I had a chance against whatever case the Marines would throw at me for killing the Delegate’s son. This guy didn’t seem to get intimidated and he’d need that courage in spades when the general public was so convinced that I was a monster.

My name is Chester Maxwell and I’m your appointed lawyer, he said. As I tried to speak, he cut me off.

Let me continue. I’ll be frank, Staff Sergeant Teagan. The case against you doesn’t look good.

Of course, it didn’t.

What am I being charged with? I was never formally charged with anything, I said quickly.

You are being charged with first degree murder, terrorism, and a hate crime.

I jumped to my feet, This is total crap. I didn’t murder anyone, I said vehemently.

Did you not kill the Demon Delegate’s son?

Well –

Based on the evidence and witnesses after the killing, the Demon Delegate asked the President, General Gridley, for you to be extradited.

Extradited to where? The Delegate’s son was killed in America. Where is it they want to send me?

He coughed and squirmed in his chair. His face contorted with a brief flash of panic and what might be anger. It was the first sign of emotion I had seen from him.

Good, I thought. I hope he was uncomfortable. My life was on the line, so he better well take it seriously.

The Demon Delegate is claiming Hell is his homeland and you should be tried there.

He wants to send me to Hell?

Listen to me carefully, I will do whatever is in my power to prevent an extradition, but it doesn’t look good. The Demon Delegate is claiming this is an act of war or one of terrorism. The President has to save face, and that very well may mean handing you over.

My stomach dropped and my vision dimmed. I hated demons, they were all evil, but my religious roots were still there – buried. I was a Catholic. Could I really be sent to Hell? Not only was I not getting out of jail, but my life and my soul could be forfeited over a mistake.

What can we do? I asked in a small voice that I didn’t recognize — so unlike my normal blunt and forceful manner. This weakness pissed me off. I wasn’t a baby, but this was so far beyond any situation I could have imagined I would be in.

That’s something I need to figure out. There’s never been a case like this before. Since it’s unprecedented, that means the courts and our government will be paying close attention to how things play out. Handing you over to Hell sets a bad precedent and I’m certain that’s something the President hopes to avoid.

I was flooded with relief and he continued,