Alice in Demonland

1. Down the Demon Hole

In Demonland, the weak died. And the strong? Well, they didn't necessarily live either. Down here, even the weak were stronger than any human. That we could be killed was saying something. It had to do with our fathers. They were the greatest of all the demons. Beyond vile and wicked and willing to destroy their offspring at any cost—

"Alice, are you listening?" Peter's words cut through my thoughts.

I snapped my head in his direction. "Of course," I said, facing front once again.

Snickers filtered through the quiet and punched me in the gut. I was a warrior trainee and should be focused. My life literally depended on it.

"Good. Now as I was saying..." Peter started up again. I tried to listen but found myself tuning him out once again.

We were in one of the enormous training rooms deep below Wonderland, Arizona in our compound. It was a realm unto itself and was called Demonland. Aptly named because of what we did and where we came from.

Peter sauntered in between all of the trainees, me included, as he spoke, his hands behind his back. As he went, he would push out a trainee's foot so it was exactly hips width apart or adjust the way one of us was holding our weapon. But it was hard to concentrate.

Any moment, we would play my favorite game. Slaying menial demons. And I was antsy, ready to start. Peter, our trainer was one of the greatest Dark Moth warriors ever to walk the Earth and he didn't seem to care I was sick of instruction and wanted to fight. He continued on and on about the demon order and how things began in the Demon Realm. As though where we lived was any better. Not in the slightest. Though the room was cool, sweat trailed down the center of my back and pooled between my breasts.

The worst part about Peter's speech was I'd heard it at least a dozen times over the years. He needed to shut up already so I could slay me some demons.

"You know of the seven deadly sins?" Peter asked, as though determined to try my patience. His eyes focused on mine.

I swallowed, forcing my mind to listen. "Yes," I said as well as the rest of the trainees. They were as antsy as me. I could sense it. We were like the coil of a spring desperate to break free.

"Well not only are they scary stories told in Sunday School, but they are also living, breathing demon royalty."

Blah. Blah. Blah, I thought, but it was serious. Some of those demons also happened to be our parents.

"The demons you'll be fighting today are menials." Peter pointed at the cage on the other side of the large instruction room. The cage had been fortified by troll magic and every time a demon tried to slip between the metal bars, their nasty bodies were electrocuted.

A hundred of them growled, gnashed their teeth. The really stupid ones threw themselves against the rods, making the air reek of burning demon hair and flesh. Not a pleasant scent when they already smelled like rotting eggs mixed with decaying corpse. They didn't look much better, resembling oversized sewer rats with leprosy. Their skin appeared to be peeling off and oozed snot-looking liquid.

"They're fast and devious," Peter went on. "Killing them is easy if you can catch them. Don't use your weapons unless you're sure you have a clean shot and avoid using your demon powers all together. Otherwise, you'll wind up killing one of the other trainees. Got it?" Peter gave me a direct look. "Alice, what did I just say?"

I forced myself not to roll my eyes. Peter was a great Dark Moth, but his father had been a Pride demon, which meant he had an inordinately high opinion of himself.

"Be careful. The menials are tricky. Don't use our demon powers, but stick to our weapons." My weapon of choice was a katana, but I also kept a small dagger in my right boot and a 9mm in a holster under my shirt.