Private The Devil You Know

[Andrew Vance]

Tap. Tap-tap.

Emerald eyes glinted in the lantern light, the darkened head of a regal bird peering through the grimy old glass.

Tap-tap. Tap. The eagle pecked at the window expectantly, waiting for the young woman to appear.

He always seemed to show up around this hour, flitting among the shadows as the sun sank into early dusk, when Human eyes wouldn’t be able to tell his face and feathering apart from any of the other birds of prey around, in the dim, waning light. Fresh meat drew them in by the dozens outside the gated compound, whenever an execution or sacrifice took place. Yet he had never stooped so low with the scavengers as to partake in those feasts…

Clutched in his talons was a strip of cloth. Useless? Perhaps. He had a habit of bringing back all sorts of odds and ends for the young woman to turn trash into treasure with. His tokens of affection, no matter what he threw down at her feet, always more endearing when a witless animal did it, playing it cute and dumb. It was probably the only romantic gesture the girl would ever get, in her short expected life, until the cult had its sacrificial way with her.

Even if it wasn't necessary for him to go the extra mile to earn those affections, Andrew had grown fond of it. Of her, and the smile it brought to her face sometimes. A pity such happiness was built upon a lie, for soon all good things must come to an end. He could not stop her fate. But at least, he might make it easier.

Emma Milanes​

 

[Emma Milanes]

Her boots collided with the gravel, thud after thud, sending a searing jolt throughout the soles of her feet. Emma internally winced with every step, but she knew better than to pity herself for being a klutz. The woman had microscopic cuts throughout her face, scratches from the branches she wrangled with to control. Dressed in uniform, her rebellious spirit heaved and grunted at another meticulous thought. Muddy black boots covered the hems of her once-grey cargos. Blotches of black ink clung to her pale skin, it seemed like for weeks she always got stuck oil mining. Eyes mugged her as she walked the same path into the heart of the compound. Finally, she could see her postmodernism, a miniature house staring at her in the distance. How could someone like her live in a home like that?

Placing a hand over her chest, a tickle turned into a violent cough that tore through her throat. She stopped in her tracks, concealing her hacks with her grimy arm. It didn't matter. She already had oil stains up to the roots of her hair, never mind her face. Her brown eyes shot bullets at a nearby bystander, who scurried away like an ant under a shadow.

"Emmaline," came the tone upon her entrance. "Mother."

"You know the drill, and quickly, please. You're tracking that shit in the house." She stepped into the room to her left, closing the door and embracing the quietness of her thoughts. Emma located a pastel blue "Start" button and gave it a solid press. A soft hum filled the air as warm jets of water cascaded down from all directions, enveloping her in gentle mist and steam. She closed her eyes, feeling the water loosen the tension in her muscles, washing away the dust and oil that clung to her from the mines. In only a minute, the water stopped and a panel opened. A stream of warm summer air passed over her, drying her instantly as her old clothes peeled away, replaced by soft, clean fabric that felt like it had been made just for her.

Freshly showered, she stepped into the living room and made a beeline for her room. "Emmaline," her mother warned with a sharper tone.

"Goodnight, father. Abraham." She closed her door gently to avoid any confrontations. The young adult sighed as she climbed to bed. While an hour or so of daylight remained, her daily routine didn't account for any fun, so Emma typically hit the sheets early. Tap-tap tap... but not before talking to her companion.

Piercing emerald eyes met hers as she lifted her window sill open. Her tone had weakened, dropping her guard. "You're always on time."

As the golden eagle flew in, the brunette caught a glimpse of the black strip lodged between its talons. On a small table, a random assortment of stolen nature covered its surface. Rocks of all shapes and sizes, glass bottles, and flower petals for when the creature was feeling a bit more romantic. A weak smile highlighted the scratches on her cheeks, which stung with every sound she uttered. She ushered the bird in her direction, prompting it to perch upon her wooden headboard. She plucked the cloth from its grip and immediately tore a seam down the middle, splitting the object into rather uneven halves. "One for me, one for you"

Emma stared at the fabric hard, making sure it hadn't been tainted with chemicals. "I'm getting really tired of this, I can't stay here. I..." Her voice drifted into space, the life in her eyes gone as her body shuddered. "I can't..." She fought with her conscience to remain upright. The girl's eyelids felt weighted and her pulse grew heavier. Her back collided against the wooden frame, over and over as she tried to control her balance. Once clouded with thoughts, her mind had essentially turned off. She hit her frame again, though this time there was no resistance to be found.

Her lids lifted slowly, staring at the newfound body in her presence. Emma stared at the man, her eyes flickering from the lack of strength, who was looking back at her. His blue-ish eyes painted a story quite easy to get lost in, to which she chuckled to herself. A force shifted her momentum as she began leaning forward, almost collapsing into his arms. Though she should've screamed or yelled for help, not a word came from her empty mind, failing to identify the threat just twenty-four inches from her. "...psss," she mimicked the sound of the wind, swaying her figure to the left. She giggled to herself once more, meeting his crystal blue eyes. A chill ran throughout her body, contorting her body in a sudden, abnormal way.

"You're..." she drew out her words and pointed at the intruder with her thumb. "In my," she giggled, placing both hands on her chest. "Dreeaammm." Emmaline sang the final word, tossing her hands in the air.

Andrew Vance​