The office was a labyrinth of fluorescent lights and
endless cubicles, a sterile expanse that hummed with the
monotony of routine. The faint clatter of keyboards and
muted conversations drifted through the air, but even
these sounds seemed distant, swallowed by the
oppressive silence that hung above me. As I pushed my
mop across the tiled floor, that familiar, gnawing
sensation returned—a clawing at the edge of my
consciousness. The feeling of being watched. It was
stronger this time, a palpable weight pressing down on
my shoulders. The room around me seemed darker,
colder. Every shadow felt alive, slithering in the corners of
my vision, and every sound—no matter how small—sent a
jolt through my spine. I could feel unseen eyes, cold and
calculating, studying my every move. The walls, once dull
and lifeless, now felt like they were closing in, their
surface rippling as if something lurked beneath. Nasira's
voice broke through the tension, her tone laced with
disdain. "It's a shame, isn't it? How our high blood is
reduced to working in a place like this." I sighed, not in
the mood for her cryptic remarks. "Why don't you just go
home, then?" She chuckled softly, her voice echoing in my
mind. "I am home. I'm a part of you, remember?" "Wow," I
muttered, half under my breath. "The mighty demon
queen is a part of a mere human."
"That 'mere human' happens to be my son," she replied,
her voice softer now, almost affectionate. "I'm not your
son, woman," I snapped, the words sharper than I
intended. Nasira fell silent, her usual playful banter
absent. For a moment, I regretted my harshness. I glanced
at her, her figure barely visible in the dim light of the
office. "Hey… seriously. Why me? Out of all the people in
the world, why do you call me your son?" She turned her
gaze toward me, her crimson eyes unreadable. "Even if I
told you, you wouldn't believe me. Now, focus on your
work." The conversation ended there, leaving an
uncomfortable stillness between us. I continued
mopping, lost in my thoughts, when a group of office
workers filed out of a meeting room, leaving behind a
battlefield of spilled coffee and crumpled papers. My
patience snapped. "Seriously? I just cleaned that, you—"
"Calm down," Nasira interjected, her voice firm but
soothing. "Don't tell me to calm down," I hissed through
gritted teeth. "This is ridiculous. I can't stand this—"
"Breathe, my dear," she said softly. "Just rest for a
moment." Before I could respond, the manager appeared,
his tie askew and a permanent scowl etched on his face.
"Are you just going to stand there, kid? Clean up this mess
and take out the garbage. Now." Nasira bristled beside me,
her grip tightening on her trident. "If I had the chance, I'd
tear him limb from limb," she growled. "How dare they
speak to my son like a servant."
"Don't," I warned, though a part of me relished her anger
on my behalf. "Let me help you," she said, her tone shifting
to something more playful. With a wave of her hand, the
door clicked shut, and a faint shimmer filled the room. "No
one's here. Watch." I leaned on my mop, skeptical. "What are
you planning?" Without another word, Nasira raised her
hand, and the scattered papers and garbage began to
levitate. They swirled through the air, forming intricate
patterns as if caught in an invisible storm. My jaw dropped.
"You can do that?" She smirked. "There's more where that
came from. Now, let's get cookin'." Before I knew it, she had
conjured a broom from the corner, setting it into motion
alongside the mop. With a flick of her wrist, the trash cans
tipped over, their contents spiraling upward in a controlled
vortex. I pulled out my phone, found a playlist, and hit play.
The room filled with upbeat music, and for the first time, I
felt a strange lightness, a sense of camaraderie. "Cooking
with trash?" I teased, grabbing a dustpan and joining her.
"This is new." "Witness the power of demon mama," she
quipped, her voice brimming with pride. We moved in sync,
an odd but efficient duo. I swept up piles of debris, passing
them to the floating dustpan Nasira controlled. She spun
the mop across the floor in elegant arcs, the water dancing
in her wake. Papers folded themselves neatly and stacked on
desks, while stray pens and office supplies zipped back to
their rightful places. Even the stubborn coffee stains
vanished under Nasira's meticulous care.
At one point, she twirled the mop like a baton, and I
couldn't help but laugh. "You're showing off now." She gave a
mock curtsy. "Anything to impress, my dear." The words
struck a chord, but I pushed the thought aside, focusing on
the task at hand. By the time we were done, the room
sparkled, its once chaotic state now orderly and pristine.
Nasira surveyed our work with a satisfied nod. "Not bad,
huh?" I leaned against a desk, catching my breath. "You
know, for a demon queen, you make a pretty decent janitor."
She chuckled. "And you are finally starting to appreciate
me." Maybe she was right. In that moment, amidst the
strange partnership and shared laughter, I felt a shift. The
animosity I had clung to began to dissolve, replaced by a
tentative trust. Perhaps Nasira wasn't just a burden, an
unwelcome intruder in my life. Perhaps she was exactly
what I needed. And then, pain. Sudden, sharp, and all
consuming, like a blade thrust deep into my chest. It clawed
at me, ripping away my breath, and I staggered, clutching at
my ribs as my vision blurred. "Adam!" Nasira's voice, usually
filled with smug amusement, now trembled with fear.
"What's wrong? Speak to me!" I tried to answer, but the only
sound that escaped was a wet, choking cough. My hand shot
up to my mouth, and when I pulled it away, crimson stained
my palm. Blood. The sight of it made the pain surge anew, a
searing wave that sent me reeling. My knees buckled, and I
would have collapsed had I not braced myself against the
wall.
"Enough of this," Nasira said, her tone now commanding.
"We're going home. Now." "Home?" I rasped between gasps
for air. "No, we're going to a doctor." Her eyes flared, a
mixture of frustration and worry. "I don't trust them, Adam.
They won't help you." "And what do you suggest?" I snapped,
another cough tearing through me. "Just let me bleed out on
the floor? We're going, and that's final." Nasira glowered but
didn't argue further. I stumbled out of the office, each step a
monumental effort as the pain gnawed at my insides. The
city lights blurred around me as I made my way to the
nearest clinic. By the time I arrived, my shirt was damp with
sweat, and my breathing had turned shallow and ragged. The
wait felt eternal. Each second stretched into an hour, and
every breath was a struggle against the tightening grip in my
chest. When my turn finally approached, the doctor stepped
out, locking the door behind him. "Closed for the night," he
said with an indifferent shrug. "Are you kidding me?" I
growled, my voice cracking. "Not now, dammit!" My fists
clenched at my sides as I muttered under my breath, "Why
does this world insist on crapping on me every chance it
gets?" As I turned to leave, cursing my luck, a familiar voice
called out, soft and gentle. "Adam? Is that you?" I looked up,
and there she was, Sarah. Her warm smile faltered as she
saw the state I was in. "Adam, are you okay?" "Don't worry
about me," I tried to say, but another violent cough betrayed
my lie. Blood flecked my lips, and Sarah's eyes widened in
alarm.
"You don't look fine," she said, her tone firm. "Come
here." She led me to a bench nearby, where the streets
were mercifully deserted. Sitting beside me, she leaned in
close, examining. She listened to my breathing. Her brow
furrowed in concern. "That doesn't sound good." "What is
it?" I asked, dread pooling in my stomach. She hesitated,
then spoke softly. "Tuberculosis." Nasira, who had been
silently hovering nearby, gasped. "What?" Her voice was a
mixture of disbelief and horror. "Great," I muttered
bitterly. "Just great. Another gem to add to my perfect
life." "Hey," Sarah said, placing a reassuring hand on my
arm. "We'll figure this out. You don't smoke, right?"
"Never," I said. "Good," she replied, her voice still calm but
tinged with urgency. She rummaged through her bag and
handed me a small packet of herbs. "Take these. They
might ease the symptoms a little. But Adam, you really
need to see a doctor soon. I'm sorry, I can't really help you
much, but this isn't something you can ignore." I looked at
the herbs in my hand, then back at her. "Thanks, Sarah.
And don't apologize. It's not your fault." She gave a small,
sad smile. "I'm just sorry you're going through this." Then,
to lighten the mood, I said, "But hey, this isn't going to
cancel our date, right?" I couldn't help but laugh, even
through the pain. "You're still on board?" "Of course," she
said, her smile now genuine. "Wouldn't miss it for the
world."
We sat in companionable silence for a moment before
parting ways. As I watched her walk away, a warmth
settled in my chest, not the searing fire of pain but a
quiet comfort. Sarah cared. She was a rare light in my
otherwise dark world. When I returned home, Nasira
was waiting, her expression unreadable. The moment I
stepped inside, she spoke. "Adam, I'm sorry." "For
what?" I asked, sitting down heavily. "For this." She
gestured vaguely, her crimson eyes filled with guilt.
"I'm supposed to protect you, and yet I can't even keep
you healthy. I'm not at my full strength, and because of
that, I'm failing you. What kind of mother am I?" Her
words caught me off guard. I leaned forward, resting
my elbows on my knees. "Nasira… You're not failing
me. You're here, aren't you? Watching over me, helping
me in your own way." She gave a small, rueful smile.
"Still, I wish I could do more." "Well," I said, trying to
shift the mood, "about that date prep you mentioned
earlier…" Nasira's smile widened, the guilt in her eyes
softening. "Oh, so now you want my help?" I shrugged.
"Figured you'd appreciate the chance to prove your
worth." She laughed, a sound both comforting and
strange coming from the queen. "Well then, let's get
started."
And so, amidst the trials and tribulations, we
planned. For the first time in a long while, the weight
on my shoulders felt just a little lighter. The night's
fragile silence was shattered by a gunshot—a
thunderous crack that echoed through the air like a
death knell. I froze, my heart pounding in my chest as I
peered through the window. Below, a group of armed
men stood in the pale glow of the streetlights. Their
guns gleamed, and their faces were twisted in
malicious glee. Two bodies lay lifeless on the
pavement, blood pooling beneath them, a grim
testament to the gang's ruthlessness. The leader—a
hulking brute with a cruel smirk—held a woman and
her child hostage, their terrified screams muffled
beneath the harsh bark of his commands. He thrust his
weapon towards a trembling man, demanding money.
My hands clenched into fists, anger boiling beneath my
skin. Even the police, stationed nearby, remained
motionless. Their inaction was deafening. "Adam, get
back inside. Now," Nasira urged, her voice low and
urgent. But before I could heed her warning, one of the
gang members turned his head, his eyes locking onto
mine. A twisted grin spread across his face as he raised
his gun. "Well, well, boys. Look who we've got here."
Recognition hit me like a punch to the gut. These
weren't just any thugs— they were ghosts from my past,
the bullies who tormented me during my school days.
The leader, Jack, stepped forward, his sneer as obnoxious
as I remembered. His nose was crooked—my handiwork
from years ago. "Remember me, kid?" Jack taunted. "You
broke my nose once. Now it's payback time." Before I
could react, their fists met my ribs, my face, knocking me
to the ground. Pain blossomed with each blow, but the
humiliation burned hotter. Jack laughed, the sound
grating in my ears. "Not so tough now, are you?" Nasira's
anger boiled over. With a flick of her wrist, a trash can
soared through the air, slamming into one of the gang
members. The distraction gave me a chance to crawl
away, but something primal surged within me—a rage so
intense, so all-consuming, that it drowned out every
rational thought. One of them grabbed my arm, and
without thinking, I sank my teeth into his flesh. His
blood flooded my mouth, warm and metallic, but
something was wrong. It didn't just taste like blood—it
was intoxicating, rich, and savory, like the most exquisite
meal I'd never known I craved. It ignited a hunger in me,
a deep, primal need. I licked my lips, savoring every drop.
The taste was sweet, almost addictive, with an
undercurrent of life itself. I wanted more.
Nasira's voice broke through the haze. "No, not here, not
now!" The gang member screamed, pulling away as I lunged
for another. This time, my teeth sank into his finger. I felt the
crunch of bone, the sinewy texture of flesh yielding under
my bite. I tore it away, chewing, the taste of salt and copper
mixed with a sickly-sweet tang that made my head swim
with ecstasy. A blood-curdling roar escaped my throat, a
sound so feral and unearthly that it silenced the world
around me. I felt my jaw stretch unnaturally, splitting in half,
revealing rows of jagged teeth beneath. The taste, the power
—it was euphoric. I turned to the next man, his throat
exposed, and pounced. My teeth tore into him, blood
spurting as I ripped through flesh and sinew. His gurgled
screams filled the air as I drank and ate, each bite fueling the
monstrous hunger within. The last of them fell to the ground,
eyes wide with terror. He scrambled backward, babbling
incoherent pleas. I approached slowly, savoring his fear. His
face twisted in horror as I grinned, my entire face splitting, a
grotesque display of my transformation. His screams were
cut short as I grabbed him by the throat, lifting him
effortlessly. My teeth sank into his face, tearing away flesh
and muscle. The taste was divine, a blend of fear and life
itself, richer than anything I'd ever known. The world around
me was a blur of red and screams until silence fell. My senses
slowly returned, the haze lifting. I stood amidst carnage,
blood dripping from my hands and mouth. I looked down at
my reflection in a puddle of blood, seeing the monster I had
become.
"What... what have I done?" My voice trembled, cracking
with horror. "My God, what is this?" I stared at my
bloodstained hands, the weight of my actions crashing down
on me. I stumbled backward, my breath hitching, heart
pounding in terror. Nasira appeared beside me, her
expression grim. "Adam, listen to me. It's fine. You didn't do
anything wrong." "Wrong?" I screamed, my voice raw. "Look!
Look at what I've done! What the hell am I?" Before she could
answer, a shout rang out. "Freeze!" The police, finally stirred
from their cowardice, aimed their weapons at me, it's like
they knew that this would happen and they waited, like it
was all a set up... Was I over thinking all this? The first shot
rang out, then another, and another. Nasira acted swiftly, a
trash can flinging into their line of fire, deflecting bullets.
"Run, Adam!" she shouted. "Now!" I didn't need to be told
twice. I bolted from the scene, my legs carrying me faster
than I thought possible. I leapt high, landing with unnatural
grace. The pain that should've been there was absent,
replaced by a newfound agility. The city blurred behind me
as I fled into an old mansion I knew in the woods, the
shadows swallowing me whole. My breath came in ragged
gasps, and my mind raced, replaying the night's horrors. The
blood, the taste, the monstrous power—I couldn't escape it.
And yet, as I ran, a chilling realization settled in my chest, I
had only begun to glimpse the beast within.