Demon Hero: Dark Fae Hollow 1 (The Dark Fae Hollows) Read online

  Demon Hero

  The Dark Fae Hollows – Hollow 1

  Jae Vogel

  Charmed Legacy

  Contents

  1. Chapter 1

  2. Chapter 2

  3. Chapter 3

  4. Chapter 4

  5. Chapter 5

  6. Chapter 6

  7. Chapter 7

  8. Chapter 8

  9. Chapter 9

  10. Chapter 10

  11. Chapter 11

  12. Chapter 12

  13. Chapter 13

  14. Chapter 14

  15. Chapter 15

  16. Chapter 16

  17. Chapter 17

  18. Chapter 18

  19. Chapter 19

  20. Chapter 20

  21. Chapter 21

  22. Chapter 22

  23. Chapter 23

  24. Chapter 24

  25. Chapter 25

  26. Chapter 26

  27. Chapter 27

  28. Chapter 28

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  Also by Jae Vogel

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Demon Hero: The Dark Fae Hollows – Hollow 1 © 2017 Jae Vogel

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

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  Description

  What if your whole life has been a lie?

  Cora’s Hollow is under threat of social disruption. The signs are written all over the buildings and the faces of its people.

  The Fae have been pushed into hiding. Fear of magic has been the strongest propaganda tool offered by the human government. Whether or not the people believe is of little importance. A divided public is the easiest public to control.

  Follow the story of a Freedom Fighter, a Bartender, and a Veteran as they discover their love for one another and fight against the endemic social war with little hope to survive.

  DEMON HERO is a standalone contribution to the Charmed Legacy Dark Fae Hollows collection. Stories can be read in any order. To learn more, visit CharmedLegacy.com

  Created with Vellum

  Chapter 1

  I never drank on nights like this. Nights where the wind coursed violently through the outside of the bar, and the blood ran high on the inside of my skin. As a matter of fact, I made it a point not to drink at all on shift any longer.

  The people here were either bitter or somber. There was not much room in between, and I took it as a sign of the greater environment. The social climate was awash with pain. That was all there was any more since the coup — pain and a lack of trust.

  “Barkeep,” a gruff man at the end of the bar growled. “Why don’t you fetch a round of absinthe?”

  I fucking hated serving absinthe. The only reason these people drank it was out of spite. I told Sol, my boss, that I wanted to stop serving it, but he refused to comply.

  The poor bastards at the end of the bar were drinking irony, and they were doing it at the expense of everyone else inside who wasn’t free to be entirely themselves. They were doing it at the expense of my own dignity, but I couldn’t stop them or speak up for myself. Each time it happened, I was ready to lose control of myself… to finally slip, to let go and cast such a powerful curse on the person they would be buried beneath Cora herself.

  “Of course,” I replied with a smile, literally dying on the inside a little bit more each time.

  “That’s right, doll! Ye know how to please a man like that. You got them looks and an ass that could kill. Don’t you pretend like you don’t want more than a little tip from over here.”

  I looked over at him with a wry grin and a smile in my eyes, imagining his dick wilting like a decomposed flower. Flirting with the idiots was mandatory, otherwise, they wouldn’t come back. As much as I resented the experience, I was part and parcel of the product Sol sold at the bar.

  I brought a set of traditional glasses and spoons over to their place. Much to their delight, I began to prepare a drink for the each of them.

  The actual content of the absinthe was weak. Not worthy of being called much more than Faerie piss by old-world standards, but one couldn’t appropriate someone’s culture and retain authenticity in the same breath.

  The three men sang a song about what they might like to do with a Faerie, if they caught one.

  Tie ‘er up and hold ‘em down.

  Choke a Fae out till she claw the ground.

  Stay clear o’ the teef cause they got some sass…

  What’s better ‘n a cunt is a Faerie’s ass!

  Echoes of their laughter bounced off the walls. There were other varieties, but this one was more creative and cruel than most. The murderous rage was so deep that all I felt was a queer form of hopelessness, and nothing more.

  Breathing in deep through my nose, I poured the sugar on the spoon of each glass and then soaked the sugar in high-proof alcohol. The green liquid fell over the sides. I watched the grains fall into the dumber below and listened to the men sing the second verse of their rowdy Irish haunt.

  My hands began to shake when I realized that more than a few eyes were on me. I placed the liquor in the cup, trying to still the tremble.

  One of the rowdier men, the one who had called me over in the first place, reached a hand over the counter and spanked my ass. The hit wasn’t hard, but it also wasn’t welcome.

  The group took a laugh at my expense. I walked away under the pretense of grabbing some matches. Fortunately, the people were rowdy enough that they took my departure as the attitude of a sore bartender.

  “Aw, girl, don’t be like that,” the man moaned.

  “Let ‘er be. Let the girl do her job, ye horny fucker,” said another.

  The group began targeting one another with quick jabs and slights. Their laughter was the loudest and most grating in the room. They were so confident in their position. Assured their opinions were dominant. Positive they were secure in their prejudice. They knew I would come back and finalize their absinthe experience.

  Their laughter subsided as I returned with the matches.

  “If we came across any of those Fae in here,” the brave one said, “you know what I’d do?” His eyes looked to the right and left, and made sure his voice was just loud enough to be heard by anyone in the bar.

  “Just in case any of the sneaky Fae are around and want to hear the shit that is about to come out of your mouth?” said the middle of the three.

  I lit the first spoon of sugar on
fire, bringing a sweet-smelling smoke into the air.

  “We’ve heard it time and time again,” he continued. “Ye don’t need to go repeating it for any of us. We all know you’d string ‘em up and play with them some.”

  “Yeah, the guys too, heh?” another said.

  This last comment elicited a shove as the man on the left reached over to push another on the far right. Apparently, homosexuality was still taboo, even if the implication was sodomizing an allegedly inferior race.

  “Besides, with the Naturalization Process coming up, you won’t need to do any of that. They’re going to be just like us, or so they say.”

  Another drink was set ablaze.

  “Once a Fae, always a Fae! Don’t you know those government pamphlets are nothin’ but convenient lies?”

  “Fer gods’ sake,” said the only man amongst them who seemed to have any sense. “Don’cha know how ta read? The damned pamphlets come with scientific references any fool can look up.”

  “I don’t need any pamphlets to tell me what I already know in my gut!” The brave man belched in my face as the third pile of sugar caramelized beneath a pillar of flame. The three men joined in a cheer and slammed the drinks in their faces, savoring the burning liquor in their throats.

  Of course, the flames were gone, but the manly endeavor of drinking something that had been on fire seemed to bolster their ego a bit. Sol wasn’t a cheapskate when it came to buying quality liquor. As a matter of fact, we did have the best absinthe in town, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t complete shit compared to what it used to be.

  “Those Fae,” the man burped again, “who are hiding in plain sight, they’re getting more than they deserve. Why, back in the day, when you had criminals at large like that, you’d take ‘em into public and shoot ‘em.”

  “Not again with the public executions…”

  “Just cause you’re a coward and don’t know how to speak the truth, doesn’t mean that real men—”

  “Like yerself, I’m sure.”

  “Your mother might know, if you don’t,” was all the man said before immediately reaching to grab me once more. With a swift motion, I stepped to the side, avoiding his grip. I watched with satisfaction as he leaned off balance onto the counter, dumping his elbow into a glass of water.

  “Another round,” he said, shaking his sleeve off with an irritated scowl. “For me and these pansies… if they can handle it.”

  “Ah, gentlemen,” said a man across the room. Two others followed behind him.

  He was a regular at the bar, and a bit of a dark one. I had my suspicions about who he was, but it wasn’t smart to out someone based on nothing more than suspicions. The practice was dangerous as hell, and it could result in people getting hurt… or worse.

  “I have to say,” he continued, “I’ve heard more than a few songs, and I have a feeling that yours was not really up to snuff.”

  “Got a real fuckin’ poet here, I guess?” the gruff man said, laughing. “Nobody asked if you liked it.”

  “Well, when you sing so proudly, it sure seems like you enjoy an audience…”

  “You know what I think? You might just be one of those Fae. Wanna come over here to teach me a lesson?”

  “On the contrary, I just think you really could have done much better. I like my songs dirtier than that. Besides, it’s easier to take a Fae from behind if you hold her by the wings.”

  The dark man leaned on the bar and snapped for my attention. When I looked at him, he gave me a smile. There was a wicked twinkle in his eye, and fear crept inside my chest. The other men, they were brash and undesirable, but at least there was nothing hidden about their behavior. This man was different. Some part of me instinctively knew he was dangerous.

  “Barkeep, let me buy the next round for these gentlemen,” he said while turning to them and smiling. “Might get me one as well. Absinthe… that’s what you were drinking, correct?”

  The other man nodded. He was obviously suspicious, but he also wasn’t known to shy away from a free drink.

  “Where I’m from, the absinthe is much better than the stuff you have around here. We used to think of absinthe as something that could impart the drinker into a visionary state of poetic reality. I’ve tasted the stuff you are shilling out at this bar…”

  The man turned to me, and to Sol, who was now standing warily behind me.

  “Not bad… but not exactly great. Missing a bit of something from the old country. Don’t you think so, dear?”

  The last question was directed at me. I started to sweat even as I attempted a smile to disarm him and brush the question away. Even the drunken stupor of the rowdy group was not slow enough to ward away their new perceptions. Suspicions had been raised, and confirmation bias had wormed its ugly way into their minds.

  I watched them turn on me.

  “I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Sol said. “All of you. You can keep up your little power play outside, but I won’t have a witch hunt in my bar. Not tonight.”

  “You don’t have to defend me, Sol,” I said evenly. “I’ve got my birth papers, just like each of them.”

  I was doing my best to regain control of a lost situation. My steadfast voice and confident manner seemed to have a life of its own. I tried to talk fast, hoping to divert the attention away from whatever that man had just said. If he outed himself as a Fae in here, then it was plain as night he was looking for trouble. And that kind of trouble wasn’t good for anyone.

  “From what I’ve heard,” I said, “the Fae are really dangerous. The government has asked us to be careful. These folks are not out to ruin anyone’s night. I’m sure this is all just a misunderstanding.”

  Now the rowdy group was confused. I knelt behind the counter to fish my papers out of my bag, thinking about what I would do if I were caught. I could never show my face in the neighborhood again. Everything would change in an instant.

  The crowd was quiet.

  All attention was focused on me.

  I now had to prove myself. I was guilty until proven innocent, and the newcomer to the bar was delighted with the show being put on. There was a sense of triumph in his eyes that made me uneasy.

  “This should be good,” the troublemaker said, resting his hand on the burly man’s shoulder. He leaned in toward the man and whispered in his ear. “You know what we’ll have to do to her if she’s lying…”

  He nodded solemnly.

  “There is no strength in a song that doesn’t reflect reality. We’ll have to hold her down while you sodomize the unfortunate thing. Does that excite you?”

  Now the burly man was starting to get uncomfortable. His friends noticed and stood to interject, pushing the man away from the troublemaker’s shoulder.

  “Hey, hey,” I cried out with a laugh, trying to put the group at ease. “Here you go. Here are my birth papers. See, everything is in order. No reason for anyone to get upset. It was an off-colour song, but nothing a little drink can’t fix, right?”

  The dark man imperiously snatched my papers from my hand, and then brought them to his eyes. He looked so official that everyone in the room paid attention.

  *click*

  Charlie, a photographer and longtime patron, took a picture of the man inspecting the document. For a moment, the man’s expression broke his officious manner.

  Then it hit me. He is a Fae…

  “Now,” the dark one continued with renewed vigor, “I am a bit of an expert in forged birthing documents, if I do say so myself.” He slammed the paper on the bar, right in the middle of the three men. “Look here,” he commanded, forcing the two nearest people to huddle in next to his breast. “Do you see these breaks in the watermark? How about the slight sheen of the paper?”

  “Holy hell,” one said, his eyes growing wide.

  “Please, please,” the troublemaker continued, urging everyone in the area to come where he was positioned. “Pull out your own birthing papers. See for yourself. Don’t take the word of a s
tranger.”

  The three at the bar fished out their own papers. A few other curious people came over to take a closer look. They wanted to verify for themselves. To see what a fake looked like.

  But I knew what they really wanted. Blood was on the trail, and they wanted to see a Fae get crucified.

  “He’s right,” a voice rang out.

  The camera’s shutter clicked again. And again. Sol stood up and grabbed my shoulder, but I pushed him away.

  “So let’s see it, big man,” the dark one said with an edge in his voice. “Do you want to hold her down yourself, or do you think the bartender over there should do his civic duty and restrain her for you? You’d better hurry up. I’d hate for you to get sloppy seconds, though I hear it gets loose enough about the fourth time around.”

  The troublemaker’s dark eyes narrowed as he watched the drunken man eagerly stand up. He looked so proud, like his day in the sun had just arrived. I looked around the room, seeing a few patrons making for the exit. The victorious and arrogant group stood up, one of them calling for the room’s attention.

  “Don’t nobody call the police. I got a personal account to settle with this Fae.”

  “But wait…” the troublemaker said, his intention practically dripping from his eyes. “Now that you’re an expert, don’t you think you should see my papers too?”

  Don’t do it, was all I could think.

  The man and his friends began to grow uneasy. Even through their drunken haze, they could sort out the dangerous edge in the troublemaker’s voice.

  “My mother named me Talon,” he continued. “Because after she was raped by a group of men, not unlike yourselves… she wanted to arm me with a powerful name. So you can snatch up your prey from on high and drip their blood onto the fields below. That’s what she’d said. Now she was a poet.”