Caymn
As soon as Cara was gone,
Caymn flung himself out of bed with inhuman speed. Within seconds, he was
tearing through the fabric of reality, diving into Limbus.
Demons were slowly trickling into Charleston, South
Carolina, gathering in their search to find Cara. And him. The whole city was
thick with spiritual activity, from both sides, and the tension between both
demon and angel was slowly rising.
Though they were unaware of him, Caymn saw demons
perched atop buildings, clustered on church steeples, appearing like black ants
as they moved along the gray landscape. Some were doing their normal duties,
following humans and whispering in their ears, but the majority of them were
not. They were searching.
When Caymn landed by Cara’s home, he knew she was
there. He couldn’t see her—no one could see her in Limbus, the spiritual realm,
because the cross she wore had been given a special dose of protection. Though
Caymn was one of the best curse-makers in his city, his power was no match for
Diabulus and all the demons combined, so he’d had to ask for additional
protection.
He had been contemplating his next move a couple
months prior when he had seen Hasmal, a golden-haired angel with brilliant skin
that shone like glittering diamonds, guarding a church’s front steps. Caymn had
approached the angel slowly, head bowed low in submission.
“Caymnaburus,” the angel said, indifferent.
“Hasmal,” Caymn replied, just as coolly. “I have a
favor to ask the Maker.”
Hasmal didn’t even blink.
“I wish protection for
someone,” Caymn muttered. He couldn’t stop thinking that his request was
idiotic, that there was no way the Maker would help him in this, but he was
desperate.
“The girl will be protected,” the angel said.
Caymn’s face stayed his usual cool mask, but he was
surprised.
“Her mother is a true believer and the Maker has
heard her prayers. Give this cross necklace to her and no demon traveling the
spiritual realm will perceive her.” The angel was suddenly handing a cross necklace
out to Caymn and he grabbed it, still too stunned to speak. “You will not be
under protection though, Caymnaburus.”
Caymn nodded gravely, expecting as much. He needed to
be on the move soon if he wished to stay hidden. He had done things to protect
himself, like paying greatly for his summoning symbol to be partially erased
and redrawn incorrectly in the private summoning collective. The only demons
that had the summoning collective in its entirety were Belphegor, the prince of
scrolls and tomes, and his less-than-faithful servant, Ereptor, whom Caymn had
paid off. Even queens had to go through Belphegor to get a particular summoning
symbol, but Caymn’s had been altered centuries ago and there was no way to find
it unless someone had memorized it previously, which was doubtful. By now
Diabulus must’ve tried to summon him and been unsuccessful. But all of Caymn’s
shyesty maneuvers wouldn’t keep him protected forever. He needed to be on the
move.
All he had to do was convince Cara to quit her job
and travel with him. He could tell her that they were in danger, him moreso
than her, but he didn’t want her to be running for her entire life—at least, if
they were, he didn’t want her to know about it. Her life was short in
comparison to his and he wanted all her years to be happy and carefree. He
wanted to live a happy life with her, even get married to her if she wanted. It
wouldn’t stand in the laws of Heaven or Hell, but he wanted to be tied to her
for as long as she lived.
If he was being perfectly honest with himself, it
wasn’t just her happiness or even his own safety that he was trying to look out
for. He was afraid of giving her the ultimatum: stay with your family or run away with me. Which would she choose? He couldn’t be sure,
but he had reason to believe she’d choose her family.
So, if he couldn’t tell her the truth, there was only
one option left. It was taking more time than was comfortable, but he had to
pull lots of strings to move her future in the direction he wanted. He had
never thought he would lead anyone to a church, but when Cara’s mother had
asked her to fill in for an organist one Sunday, Caymn had pushed and pulled on
the mind of The Retreat’s hotel manager to make sure he heard her play. Cara
was a gifted musician, so he hadn’t really had to push or pull too much to have
the manager offer her a new job at the five-star hotel, only had to plant the
seed.
Now, he had
to work on someone who would be visiting the hotel this weekend. Very
occasionally, Hollywood celebrities and the like would stay at the hotel, and
Caymn had heard word of a music producer that was putting together an all-girl
rock band, but had an opening for a pianist and a drummer, both of which Cara
could play well. From what he understood, it would be small time, traveling
around the country and opening for other small-time bands, but it would be
perfect start to their travels…
A flap of wings suddenly came crashing down only feet
away from Caymn, startling him and disrupting his train of thought. This wasn’t
a low-level demon either, small with only the hopes of turning into a cat on
the other side. This was a warrior, equal to Caymn in ranks, and his black eyes
were fixed toward Cara’s apartment.
Caymn didn’t move, didn’t even allow himself to feel
anything, lest he tip off the other demon of his presence. He was running out
of time.
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