Page 21 of Demon Apathy: Sunderverse
Fingers moving quickly, I turned the pages, knowing that if I took too long, I would lose my nerve. The first page dedicated to explaining the prophecy was mostly blank with only a few lines written in Arabic… or maybe it was Aramaic. I had no idea. Frowning, I turned to the next page, where details about the origins of the prophecy were explained at length.
According to the text, a woman named Nureen Malakha was credited with the prediction. She had been a Skew, a seer to be precise, and lived during 800 BC. The next section went on to credit a list of advancements she’d made in certain areas of divination, some of which were still in use at the time of the tome’s writing. I skimmed the information, getting the sense that this Nureen hadn’t been some parlor con-artist but someone of repute, someone who had the respect of her contemporaries as well as Skews in future generations.
My hand shook as I turned to the next page. Once more, the entire sheet was dedicated to a few sentences though, this time, they were written in English.
The brave hunter’s sword will refuse to yield. But the one will come on a day of strife and, with the weapon, will bring down the heavens in a fury of fire.
Um, what??!!
Hell no!
This was definitely not about me.
Struck by how utterly ludicrous the idea was, I threw my head back and laughed.
Bring down the heavens in a fury of fire.What did that even mean? No human could do that, much less me.
I exhaled in relief, feeling as if my heart had suddenly been released from a vice grip. Someone else—a demon or maybe an angel—was supposed to wield the sword to bring down the heavens. Not me. The fact that I could wield the sword now meant nothing. Another person would come later, and they would have the same ability as me. Also, they would be the kind willing to unleasha fury of fireat the pearly gates.
Feeling a million times lighter, I deposited the book on the desk and made myself comfortable on the bare mattress, throwing the hood over my head and stuffing my hands in my pockets. The fatigue of a long day descended on me, making me drowsy, but it was a renewed sense of freedom that allowed me to drift to sleep almost as soon as I set my head down.
8
Thenextmorningmyeyes sprang open before 5:30 AM, for which I was grateful. Mom wouldn’t be up for another half an hour to discover that I wasn’t tucked safely in my bed. For the past six weeks, we’ve been exercising together, though I use the wordtogetherlightly. She speed-walked, making a wide loop around several neighborhood blocks, while I ran the same loop three times over, waving her goodbye as I sped by and tried to encourage her with some motivational phrases.
Move it, old lady!
Nonna could go faster than you.
She argued that I wasn’t being motivational but mean, though the proof was in the pudding because she’d improved her time by five minutes already.
Stifling a yawn, I checked my phone to make sure I didn’t have any panicked voicemails or text messages from my family. To my relief, there were none. I got out of bed slowly, trying not to wake Jenna up, but she must’ve been sleeping lightly because her eyes sprang open as soon as I rose to my feet. Her blue eyes were wide as she stared pointedly at me.
“What is it?” I asked. “Are you all right?”
She frowned, scrubbed at her face, reached for her glasses, and slipped them on. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. It’s just…” She pointed vaguely toward her desk.
The tome with the prophecy now lay there. “I read it.” She kicked the covers away and planted bare feet on the floor.
“Oh.” Well, that explained her freaked-out expression first thing in the morning.
“What does it even mean? How will you bring down the heavens in a fury of fire?”
I scoffed. “Me? No, Jenna, that prophecy is not about me.”
“How do you know? Youcanwield Striker’s Queller.”
“First of all, who the hell is theBrave Hunter? That could be anyone, not necessarily Striker.”
Jenna shook her head. “That was what his fellow demon hunters called Striker. They admired him and were in awe of his skill.”
“Okay,” I admitted. “Butthe one? I mean, c’mon, what is thisThe Matrix? That could refer to practically anybody in this building or elsewhere. Haveyouever been given the chance to hold Striker’s Queller?”
“No, but what are the chances that more than one person will be able to wield it?”
“Out of gazillions of people in the world? My guess is they’re pretty good. C’mon, Jenna, think logically.”
She rubbed her forehead, then ran her fingers straight through her hair. If I did that, I would run into several gnarly tangles, but her black hair was so straight and silky she barely needed a comb.
