The Human Monster

By Sara Rigotti

First was curiosity, then confusion, and eventually, fear, as the new presence dove into the darker recesses.
"What are you?"

Hope expected her first encounter with a member of the Order of Raguel to start with a gun pointed at her temple, not with coffee spilled all over her blouse.

After finally finding her way out of hell and into the body of an unsuspecting human, the last thing Hope expected was to find herself possessing the body of a homicidal sociopath. Now, after years of fighting the voice of the human in her head, Hope is running out of ideas on how to get rid of the monster she's keeping contained. Then she meets Cassie, a demon hunter in the Order of Raguel, and the voice offers Hope a deal. Befriend the person sworn to wipe out her kind, and the voice will leave Hope, forever.

But things get complicated when the deal leads to what may be Hope's first real friendship. And unbeknownst to Hope, Cassie and her team have their own mission – one that may bring Hope's worst nightmares to life and play right into the voice's hands.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sara Rigotti
• Release date: Nov 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9781738168125

Book preview

PART ONE

A Deal Between a Monster and a Demon

1

A Demon Possessed

When Hope imagined her first encounter with a member of the Order of Raguel, she expected it to go somewhere along the lines of having a Celestial blade pressed against her throat, or a pistol loaded with Cold Iron bullets pointed at her temple.

What she didn’t expect was to have coffee spilt all over her blouse.

Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!

The burning was a shock, Hope’s hands scrambling to lift the soaked material off her skin, but what froze Hope in her tracks was the tattooed insignia between the young woman’s collarbones, framed inside the V of her shirt. A shortened sword with the arms of its hilt curved into the arms of a scale.

The taller woman reached up to brush dark strands of hair out of her wide eyes. More coffee sloshed out of the crumpled cup in her fist; the Starbucks brand on it now unrecognizable. Oh shit. She dropped what was left of her drink on the window ledge to their right and started rooting through her pockets with one hand. The other clung a tablet tight to her chest. I’m sure I have some napkins or something.

It’s okay, really. Hope pulled at the hem of what was a pale blue blouse, and her eyes caught sight of a red streak in the woman’s hair, so bright it looked with fire – Isn’t that a fun idea – that disappeared into the loose bun on the back of her head.

Hope measured her breathing as her heart fought to beat itself into a panic. Calm down. She told herself. You knew this would happen eventually, just don’t give anything away. Her eyes darted around for something else to focus on. Cars whizzed past them on the road to her right and pedestrians swerved around them, lost in their own little worlds. The coffee was beginning to cool and set into watery brown stains, when the other girl finally found some crumpled napkins and reached out to dab at the shirt.

Hope blinked, and her arm shot up to grab coffee girl’s wrist. Crap! She muttered, releasing the probable hazard to her health. Sorry!

No, it’s my fault. She said, offering Hope the napkins instead. I am so, so sorry.

It’s alright. I don’t even like this shirt. Actually, it was one of her favourites.

The girl shook her head, still apologizing. I should’ve been looking where I was going.

Funny, you’d think one of her kind would be more aware of their surroundings.

Quiet you. Hope shot back at the voice in her head. It already wasn’t safe for her to be near an Order member, the last thing she needed was a distraction. She came back into focus to realize that the other girl was now scribbling something on a piece of paper, the napkins still tightly crushed in Hope’s fist.

Here. She said, thrusting the wrinkled note into Hope’s empty palm. My number. I don’t have anything on me right now, but I promise I’ll pay for dry cleaning, or a new one. Just text me how much.

No really, it’s okay. You don’t have to. Hope stammered. All she cared about was getting away from the girl before she realized the truth.

I insist. The girl said. Her eyes met Hope’s with an intense stare. Hope felt her stomach leap into her throat. This is it, she thought, her other hand curling slowly into a fist.

Then the coffee culprit’s pocket gave a muffled ping. The noise caused her to break her stare and look down. She scrambled for a bit, trying to use her free hand to reach something in the opposite pocket, until finally she got a hold of it and pulled out a phone. As she went to look at the screen it gave off another ping. Shit, I gotta go. As Hope stood frozen, she stuffed the phone back in her pants, grabbed what was left of her coffee cup, and started to hurry down the sidewalk.

She got a few feet away before turning to look back over her shoulder. Without breaking stride, she called out, Text me, okay? before disappearing around the street corner.

Hope blinked and waited for a few moments, fully expecting the girl to realize her mistake and come charging back around the corner. But she didn’t.

Hesitantly, she opened the fist that held the girl’s note and flattened it out the best she could. On it was a phone number, and a name.

Cassie.

✽✽✽

You could have taken her.

I thought I told you to be quiet. Hope managed to make it all the way to the safety of her mediocre apartment before the voice spoke up again.

Where’s the fun in that? Besides, when have I ever listened to you? The voice mused. At least I had the decency to wait until we were in private.

Admittedly, Hope was relieved the voice had waited, remembering too many times when it distracted her, and she zoned out in public – and that was when she wasn’t face-to-face with someone who would kill her if they had any indication of what she really was.

We couldn’t get that lucky. The voice muttered.

Hope snorted despite her better judgement. But now that she was settled and calm, the sound of the voice brought back the problem she was dealing with before she ran into Cassie: how to kick the cruel and foreign voice out of her head.

This morning was another failed attempt on an ever-growing list of failed attempts. Two hours on a jolting bus with a pack of tourists and a man who sneezed into his own hands. Only to meet with some soccer mom who believed herself a physic healer with too-perfect crystals probably made with resin and sold to her by another – more intelligent – scam artist. Hope knew some humans were capable of things outside of the range of normal, but it seemed the fakes far outnumbered the real ones.

And it was starting to eat away at her motivation.

At the back of her thoughts, Hope could feel it smile – a cold sense of twisted giddiness, mixed with a scrapping sensation like teeth against the back of her neck. She sighed; she almost forgot the voice could see everything inside her head.

Hope rubbed her palm against her cheek and walked into the closet her landlord called a kitchen. She pulled her damp blouse up over her head and cast it across the kitchen isle, scattering a couple pill bottles with various quantities. Each one another failed attempt, medical gambles to remove the voice, when she had the time to take a bus outside of her way to talk to a medical professional long enough to get a prescription. Or when she had enough money in her pocket to find someone who used an alley as their office place.

Hope trailed her hands down her front as she leant her hip to the island counter. The skin around her chest and stomach was pink and slightly warm to the touch, but the tingling had faded during her walk, and she couldn’t feel any blisters when she traced the burns with her fingertips, so she supposed it was fine. She had some aloe vera in her bathroom cabinet she could put on it later.

As she stooped down to collect the fallen orange containers, she noticed the brown spots that decorated her frayed white bra – the coffee having bled through her blouse. She sighed but made no move to remove it. Damn thing was old when I got it anyway. She thought. Besides, who’s ever going to see it?

I am. Snapped the voice. But Hope ignored it.

She popped open the door of her ancient fridge that clunked and whined in greeting and bent over to grab a can of beer tucked at the back of the bottom level. Then she stared at the cans for a moment longer, before snatching two more and letting the door fall shut.

Must you do that to us? Hope smirked at the strain in the voice’s words. Are you going to leave me alone? She asked.

The voice didn’t answer. Then yes. Yes, I do.

The alcohol made her body lax and her mind foggy, but it also silenced the voice for a short while. Or at least it muddled both of them enough to turn the voice into a senseless murmur. And if she lost a couple hours of her day, then so be it.

This has been a shit day anyway.

For once, the voice offered no comment.

Hope made her way into the living room, where a single chair stood facing a full-length mirror that leant towards the wall. Popping open the tab on the first can, Hope placed the other two on the floor and settled into the second-hand chair and started picking at the stitching where someone had tried to sew up a rip in the cushion of the armrest.

Taking a deep swig of beer, she met the eyes staring back at her in the reflection.

The face in the mirror was a kind one. Brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, showing off a round face with full lips and sunken features that gave her a sympathetic look. Hope had had enough encounters with people in bars and coffee shops to know that others found the face attractive, but she hated it. The thought of changing it crossed her mind once and awhile, but she always decided against it, because no matter what, she would never be able to change those eyes.

Eyes that weren’t and would never be hers.

They belonged to the voice in her head. The human she was inhabiting, if they could even be called that.

I should be offended. The voice said. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to be mean. It actually sounded hurt, but Hope knew better.

I wish you would leave me alone. She thought, taking another swallow of beer. She winced as it burned on the way down. I wish I could force you out.

The voice growled. I suppose I’m lucky then that you’re so incompetent. Then Hope felt a shiver, like the voice shook itself. You know, this doesn’t have to be so bad. We could be great together, you and me.

Hope snorted; she’d heard this before. Instead of answering, she threw back her head and chugged the rest of the can all at once.

The growl came back full force. She giggled at it, toying with the empty can in her hands. The first can always made her feel giddy.

You are not at all what I imagined your kind to be like. The voice said, the sound only starting to grow murky. Like she was hearing it through phone line instead of whispered directly in her ear.

I’m not like the others. Hope chuckled. I’m special.

Or broken.

You used to be so polite. She pouted. I knew it was fake, and you knew I knew, but you still tried to pretend. What happened?

It was pointless. Why on earth would I keep up an act that wasn’t working?

It wasn’t the only act either. Hope said. She dropped the empty can and picked up a second. She popped the tab, but instead of taking another drink she splayed out the opposite hand and started listing off her fingers. "You tried crying and begging, flattery, you tried to make a deal, then there was the politeness. All fake."

Hope took a gulp of beer. The first time you were honest was when we first met. You wanted to team up with me.

I’m still waiting for you to come to your senses. We should be out there, you and I, with your strengths and my ideas, we could be incredible. Don’t you want to know pleasure?

I just wanna live. Hope said. Her high slowly sinking as she drained the second can. I wanna be a normal human. Wanna live in my apartment, wanna go to work and bars. I wanna be happy.

Well don’t blame me for your unhappiness. The voice said in a huff. I never asked you to possess me, now did I? Demon.

2

The Family Business

Cassie rushed through the doors of the main branch of the Ottawa public library, dumping her ruined coffee cup in the nearest trash bin. She glanced quickly at the time on her tablet as she took long strides across the tiled floors, dodging the various chairs and tables. Fuck, I’m late. With one eye on her surroundings to keep from running into anything or anyone, she fired off a text to her friends, letting them know she arrived.

She was already in a rush when she ran into that girl. So much so her friends started asking where she was. She felt terrible having to run off like that, feeling a bit like she just committed a hit-and-run, but she hoped the girl would reach out so at least she could try and make it up to her.

Pushing her thoughts aside, Cassie weaved through the rows of black and orange armchairs in the lobby that always reminded her of Halloween decorations someone forgot to put away. And the rest of the library was, aesthetically, just as impressive. A squat, rectangular cement building jutting out from the high-rises, with thick walls and windows set on the inside, it was practically camouflaged into the rest of street.

The interior reminded her more of a modern office building, with canary yellow walls and tiled floors. The lobby had stairs leading either up to the children’s library and conference room space, or down to more shelves, displays, and tables of computers, with the checkout tucked behind it all. Signs hung from the panelled ceiling detailing which each section was, but Cassie wasn’t interested in any of them.

She bypassed the staircases leading upwards, instead trotting down the main steps to sprawling ground level. She strode past the information desk and avoided the milling public, going all the way to the back wall, where a door with a push bar stood in the corner. A placard labelled it ‘Employees Only’, and opening it led to another staircase going into the bowels of the library and the rows of almost ceiling-high archives – a dim-lit contrast to the bright office-lit upper floors – where very few members of the public visited. There she found the other members of her Order team gathered around a heavy wooden table with a single desk lamp, almost concealed by metal shelves and rows of filing cabinets.

It still felt odd to Cassie, referring to the friends she’d know for years as her ‘team’. They were her brother Gabriel’s friends first, and it felt like they’ve always been around. The twenty-year-old twins, Eve and Adam, only about a year and half older than Cassie herself, who’d only recently turned nineteen. And Daniel, the oldest of their group at twenty-one, and Gabriel’s best friend.

The three of them were a part of her family, long before she was brought into the Order’s fold, just under two years ago. When she was given the rundown of the world behind the one she knew: that demons and monsters existed. And keeping the peace are monster hunters that called themselves the Order of Raguel.

Sorry I’m late.

No worries. Eve said, swiping her thumb across her phone screen. Cassie caught a glimpse of a smiling blond woman, the tinder logo at the top of the screen. Eve noticed her eyes and tipped her phone towards Cassie with a raised eyebrow. Cassie shrugged, and Eve gave the picture another glance before shutting off her phone. She used her high-heeled foot to push out a chair for Cassie. Just glad you weren’t killed by something.

Contrary to her demeanor, Cassie knew Eve worried about her whenever she was late. Eve worried about everyone. She acted like a badass in heels – and she was – but she was also a genuine mother hen. It was why she never lost her phone; if anyone she cared about was in trouble, she’d be damned if she didn’t answer immediately.

What took you so long anyway? Daniel asked, fiddling with the cuffs of his dress shirt. In the weak light, the almost bleach-white color stood stark against his umber skin tone. He pulled one of his knives out of the table, and Cassie could see two more plunged into the wood. Good, she thought. They couldn’t have been waiting for her for too long if he only made it to three.

I ran into someone, like actually ran into them. She gestured at the splotches of coffee on her pants. I spilt coffee all over them, but I gave ‘em my number so I could pay for it.

Adam looked up from where his nose was buried in a musty old book, black curls falling over the glasses hanging too low on his nose. The book was written in what looked like French, with a picture of a painting taking up half of one page. Do you have what you wanted to show us? He asked.

Always to the point, aren’t you? She teased, pulling up her tablet and turning it on. She spent a few seconds clicking through tabs before she found what she wanted and placed it on the table where they all could see. A PDF was open on screen. The design was blocky and had a garish border around it, with no title or proper document name. It looked like a scan of a page from an old book, and the light washed out some of the writing. A drawing of a stone was at the top of the page.

She’d saved it off an obscure blog on religious mythology. The site was garish, clashing blocks of color and too-small text, created by someone who obviously didn’t know how to code. A normal person would write it off as being fake or just some nutjob’s crack-pot fever dream – no crazier than alien abductions or vaccines giving people autism – but people with open eyes could tell there was more to it. A lot of Order members go online in blogs, chatgroups and subreddits to share information or ask for help.

In the past, Order members had to find the right copy of the right book and pray the right information was there. Except monsters and demons rarely gave people the time to look up what they were and how to kill them. Now they could scan a book’s page and send it halfway across the globe instantly.

The wonders of the modern age.

So, I was thinking about hunting, and how.... And how we can avoid what happened to my brother. Cassie’s hackles locked up at the thought of Gabriel, but she shook it off. She promised herself she wouldn’t look back. How it’s most dangerous at the beginning of a hunt, when we don’t have eyes on the demon, and how difficult it can be when we don’t quite know what we’re up against. And I think I found something that could help.

Something like what? Our biggest problem is that we don’t even know what we’ll be hunting until we’re hunting it. Eve said. It could be anything: a Sinner, or another Leviathan – Her voice broke for a second and her eyes darted to Cassie. – or anything else for that matter. So, unless you’ve found some sort of universal demon killing weapon, I don’t see how it’ll be much help.

What we could really use is another exorcism incantation. Adam said. He looked back down at his book and frowned. Or a containment seal.

It isn’t either of those. Cassie turned the tablet to face Adam, knowing he’d be the easiest to convince. It’s a stone.

A stone? Daniel asked. How in the name of Raguel is a stone supposed to help us?

It’s not just some ordinary stone. I’m talking about a Paradise stone. It’s a heavenly object that glows in the presence of demons.

Eve propped her feet up on the table. So it could tell us when we’re close to one. I suppose that would be better than relying on someone’s gut.

Hey! My instincts are always right. Daniel said.

Oh really? What about the Sinner than nearly killed you last year? Or the hound you thought was a stray dog? Or how about –.

That’s enough. Adam cut in, not taking his eyes from the screen. This could help, but I don’t know how we’d even find one.

Well, what is it anyway? Eve asked. This Paradise stone?

It’s a shard of heaven that fell to earth when Lucifer was cast out.

Daniel snorted. I can’t imagine there are very many of those. There aren’t. Cassie admitted. But I think I know where we can find one.

3

A Deal is Struck

It was snowing that day.

The day Hope finally managed to find a way through the cracks and out of Hell.

Minor possession demons like herself were mostly overlooked, and the craftiest out of them had an easier time getting out of Hell than the higher ranks. She couldn’t remember how long