Titanium

Twenty-Four

Malak stared at the computer screen with numb disbelief. It was open to an article dated March 10, 2012 from the local newspaper in Sulphur, Oklahoma. There was a picture of his wife, a bit older than the last time he had seen her, underneath the headline:

'DAUGHTER GOES ON MURDEROUS RAMPAGE: KILLS MOTHER'.

Further down on the page, beside the article itself was a picture of a young woman who looked to be the spitting image of his wife. Abigail had grown into a fine young lady over the years, it seemed. As he scanned the words in the article, his heart sank. Apparently, Abigail had come home late one evening and got a knife from the kitchen before stalking upstairs to her mother's bedroom. They called it overkill. She had stabbed the older woman in the chest nearly two dozen times before slitting her throat.

Afterwards, his daughter had gone on the run, doing her best to evade the police. No one knew what happened to her after that.

"Oh, Angel," Malak muttered to himself. "What happened to you?"

***

Aosoth made her way toward the white Buick Encore parked outside a small diner. Closing her eyes, she breathed in deeply, smirking when she caught the scent of Malak Reynolds.

"Got 'cha," she muttered.

Holding back, the demoness waited until a middle-aged man with an oval face and a bald head exited the diner and headed toward the Buick to approach.

"Excuse me? I'm looking for my father," she addressed the man.

"Uh, sure, miss. What's his name?"

"Malak Reynolds. My name's Abigail."

"You're Malak's daughter?"

"You know him?"

"Yeah, I gave him a ride a while back."

"Where did you drop him off?"

"Two towns over. In Ada."

"Thanks so much Mr..."

"Williams. Aiden Williams."

"Aiden," Aosoth smiled, "you've been very helpful."

Aiden smiled back as Aosoth flicked her wrist, snapping his neck and causing him to crumble to the ground. Her eyes flashed black as she stared down at his body.

"You've been very helpful, indeed."

***

After the initial shock of learning that his daughter had killed his wife in a violent rage had worn off, Malak began looking into any unusual activity surrounding the day of the murder. It turned out, the weeks leading up to the event, there were several electrical storms in the area.

"Demons," he muttered to himself, pulling the silver blade closer to his body under the table.

Switching back over to the newspaper article, he hit print and went to pick up the page. Once he had it, he grabbed a pair of scissors, cutting the picture of his daughter out and throwing the rest in the trash. Malak made his way out to the street and continued his search.

"Excuse me? Do you recognize this girl?"

The man he had stopped took the picture, looking at it closely.

"No, sorry," he shook his head.

"That's alright. Thanks anyway."

Malak took the picture back, continuing to stop random strangers on the street and showing them the picture. He knew it was a long shot, especially since it had been so long since Abigail had run off, but he refused to give up. As he rounded the corner, a vaguely familiar voice met his ears.

"Hello? I'm looking for my father."

"What's his name, sweetheart?" 

"Malak. Malak Reynolds," the first voice responded.

Malak walked faster down the street, approaching where the voices were coming from. As the two women came into view, his heart skipped a beat in his chest. He didn't recognize the woman facing him, but the dark curls of the woman with her back to him looked exactly like Eleanor's.

"Abigail!" he called out.

The woman facing away turned around and his jaw dropped. She looked exactly like his Eleanor had: same long hair, same fair skin, same pure blue eyes. But as the woman smiled, it was his Abigail's smile that greeted him every time he came home.

"Daddy," she greeted him.

The two embraced as the other woman walked away.

"I thought I'd never see you again," Abigail breathed.

"I know, Angel, I know," Malak responded, rubbing a hand up and down his daughter's back. "You got so big."

Abigail laughed, pulling back.

"Can't call me your little bug anymore."

"No, I suppose I can't," Malak laughed in return. "You look so much like your mother."

Abigail's expression contorted into one of pain and sadness at his words, and he almost regretted saying them.

"I know," she whispered. "I miss her so much."

"What happened, Abi? I found an article that said you murdered her."

"Oh," Abigail rolled her eyes. "Right. That."

She blinked and her eyes turned pitch black.

"I had orders," she smirked.

"You get out of my Abi," Malak growled, pulling out the silver blade.

"Sorry, but I can't do that. I have to bring you to my boss."

Malak lunged for the demon with the blade, but she easily sidestepped him before putting a hand on his shoulder and transporting them both away.