Among Demons : Rebellious Huntress

Chapter One : Bitter Morning

*Morgan Evans*

The loud sound of someone thumping down the stairs pulled me from my peaceful sleep. I groaned and rolled over, blinking sleepily at the unfocused white door that sat a few feet away. Slowly blinking, clearing the fogginess from my eyes, I waited, hoping that no one else was going to loudly disturb my slumber. I was just about to slip back into the cozy arms of a deep sleep, when another set of heavy footsteps stomped past my bedroom door and down the stairs.

“Fuuuuuuck.” I groaned, feeling more awake now than I had just a second ago.

I flopped onto my back, glaring at my blank ceiling before turning to look for my phone on my nightstand. The glowing screen announced the early hour that I was forcibly awoken, making my annoyance rise.

“Stupid, inconsiderate pricks.” I muttered, forcing myself into a sitting position. “Stomping around like the cocky f***s they are.” I stretched my body out a bit, huffing before kicking off my poofy duvet and rising to my feet. “No care for everyone else that wants to sleep and rest just a little longer.” I pulled off my black tank top, wiggling out of my worn sweatpants that had a fist sized hole over my left thigh. “Of course, everyone must abide by their rules and wake up at the ass-c***k of dawn.” I stretched some more, now standing in the nude in the middle of my room.

“Morgan, do you–AHH!”

I turned lazily after my door was opened, locking eyes with the wife of one of my brothers. She was completely frozen in shock, her eyes wide once she realized that I was completely naked.

“What are you doing!?” She shrieked at me, irritating my still sleepy mind.

“Getting dressed.” I answered plainly, rolling my eyes as she turned away and backed out of my room, blindly reaching for the doorknob in order to close the door. “Knock next time!” I chuckled as she slammed the door.

I could hear her heels clicking rapidly down the stairs that lay right outside and to the left of my bedroom door. Who wears heels so early in the morning? The suns not even up yet, it's just cresting the horizon. Don’t her feet hurt? She wears them all the damn time and constantly complains about them every night too. Always making my brother massage her feet or using that fancy water foot soaker thing my mother got her. And that really girly outfit of hers, with its itchy looking pearl white cardigan, floral print blouse and knee length pencil skirt. She looks uncomfortable when she moves, her arms and legs shifting in jerk-y motions. I’ve even caught her grumbling about her outfit or frowning at something itchy, scratchy or plain bothersome that irritated her about her clothes. Yet she continues to wear them. It’s like she insists on being in unbearable outfits for some stupid reason, even insisting on adding all that make-up she plasters all over her face. And don’t get me started on the over the top jewelry she likes to flash around.

I paused in my stretching when I heard her muffled voice shouting for her husband in pure outrage, letting me know that she was already looking to start accusing me of crap. I rolled my eyes again, sighing in annoyance. It’s too early for this bullshit.

Taking my sweet ass time, I pulled out a matching pair of light gray panties and strapless bra, slipping them on before digging in the mess that my closet always turned into. I managed to find a pair of skin tight hunter green pants and a black halter top with a wavy waterfall cut along the hem that exposed the tops of my hips and a small strip of skin under my belly button. It was a comfy, free-flowing top that created a little tail behind me that stopped just over my back pockets, floating a bit when I walked. Some short ankle socks and slim dark brown ankle boots finished off my look.

I’m always criticized about my fashion sense by my mother and both sisters-in-law. They all disapproved of the darker colors I enjoyed wearing and hated that I never wanted to wear any of the over the top clothes they always gift me. ‘You can’t have beauty without sacrifice,’ my mother would say, everytime my outfit choice was brought up. But I would much prefer a pair of tight jeans or shorts and a cute crop-top or loose fitting tank or t-shirt when it's nice and sunny outside. It confused and irritated them all so much, especially when they also know how big of a playful and flirty person I tend to be. It just didn’t compute that someone dressed in dark clothes, has a few tattoos, never wears make-up and refuses jewelry of all kinds, was also the same someone that flirts openly, dances around a lot and loves flowers.

“MORGAN!” A deep male voice screamed, the sound echoing weakly from where I knew the stairs started on the first floor.

“Here we go.” I muttered to myself, moving towards my full body mirror that sat in the corner of my room.

I looked over my outfit calmly, grabbing my comb and smoothing out a few wild strands of my shoulder length caramel colored hair. My eyes flickered over to the reflection of my bedroom door, just past the reflection of my bed behind me, waiting for him to burst in and begin his typical demanding tirade.

As expected, I heard the thunderous thumps of heavy footsteps climbing the stairs a few seconds later. Then, not reacting to the sound at all, my door was once again flung open, slamming back onto my open closet door.

“What the f**k is wrong with you?!” Marshall, the eldest of my two brothers, stood in my doorway, glaring daggers at me.

“Good morning.” I chirped back, ignoring his question and continuing to peacefully comb and arrange my hair in the mirror.

“Drop the crap, Morgan.” He puffed, his chest heaving with his anger. “Why the hell were you flashing my wife?”

I paused in my hair care, looking into the reflection of his eyes with a raised eyebrow.

“Is that what she said?” I chuckled, already feeling drained. “She has quite the imagination, if she thinks bursting into my room while I’m changing is me purposefully flashing her.” Slowly, I turned with a wicked, mocking grin on my face, seeing my brother's anger spike. “Did my nudity offend her delicate sensibilities?”

“Don’t start with your bullshit excuses!” He snapped back, taking one firm step into my room. “I don’t want you picking fights or shocking my wife like that. Am I understood?”

“Sure, sure.” I waved him off, still showing how unbothered I was. “As long as she remembers to knock, then we won’t have a problem.”

“You have no authority to be making any demands, Morgan.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Then I don’t know what you want me to do.” I shrugged, leaning back so my hip pressed against the edge of my small wooden desk. “It’s not like I’m a man and she saw something she shouldn’t. We’re both girls, so we both have the same bits.” A slow smile grew on my face and I tilted my head to the side a little, seeing my brother's eyes narrow some more as he picked up on my subtle change. “Could it be…” I chuckled, adding to the tension on purpose. “Is your precious little wife jealous?”

“She has nothing to be jealous about.” He gritted out, his hands balling at his sides. “Not from a fat, disloyal b***h like you.”

Ignoring his jab at me, I smiled with mock sweetness, clasping my hands over my chest and making my voice as syrupy sweet as I could.

“That’s so sweet, Marsh.” I ran a hand through my hair and met his rage filled gaze, challenging him to look away first. “It’s good to know that even the vilest, most rotten hearts are capable of finding someone to love.” I took one long step forward, rounding the corner of my bed. “Especially someone like you… someone so ready to kill a member of your own family…”

And there it was. The one thing that always made the first born child of the Evans family back down. The one card I was always willing to throw back into his face every time his drama queen wife wanted to pick a fight with me. The only thing that made actual shame and guilt come crashing into the ice blue eyes we shared.

He clenched his jaw and he looked away, closing his eyes for a tense second before looking back at me with nothing but the embers of his anger flickering in those eyes.

“Just stay away from Sophia. Henry too.” He then turned and skipped down the stairs, sounding mighty worn out now compared to the thundering stomping he had done a few minutes ago.

“f**k you.” I hissed, rushing over to close my door.

Once my door was closed and I flicked the lock in place, I turned and flopped back onto my bed, landing on my belly. I was feeling so tired already, and I just got up. Still, this was one of the better mornings for me. And that’s saying something.

My family is a very irritating and persistent ‘thing’ that clings to me and my every waking moment. Everyone in the Evans family has essentially turned their backs on me after a certain incident a little over two years ago. And it sadly took place the night before my 18th birthday.

I shook my head clear of the memory, not wanting to focus too much on it. It may make me a hypocrite to some degree, that I’m so willing to bring up the subject against my brother every time he tries to lash out at me. But I honestly couldn’t care less. Not after every single one of them showed me exactly what kind of people they are… how far they were willing to go… and how easily they planned to use my death as a weapon, if I hadn’t survived...

“Ugh!” I groaned, pressing my face into my bed to try and smother the memories that were stubbornly trying to come back to me.

I jumped up a second later, needing something else to focus on, and rushed over to my bedroom door again. There was a hidden switch tucked away along the door frame, barely bigger than my fingertip, and couldn’t be found unless you knew it was there. I easily moved my finger over it, finding it a few inches above my head, and pressed it. A soft clicking sound rang out in my room and I smiled as I stepped back.

Nothing obvious had changed, but my room was now secure and locked up tight for the next hour. No one would be able to open my door, even if they had the key. No one would be able to hear anything, even if they pressed their ear to the door or wall. The one window that sat above my bed had a thin sheet of reflective film roll out, preventing anything or anyone from looking in. And a small, wireless device was kicked on as well, protecting my devices from any potential hacking while I worked.

Everything had been secretly and skillfully installed by a friend of mine, and all during one of the rare weekends when my entire family was out or away. So no one in the Evans family knew just how secure my small, little room could become.

I jumped onto my laptop, pulling it out from under my bed and powered it on. It took a few seconds, but soon the password screen appeared and I quickly typed in the six digit code. It was a special day to me, one that my family would never be able to figure out. I scanned through the few little icons on the home screen, finding the obscure, solid black picture of a small dagger. Most would assume that this was the icon for a cheap computer game of some sort, especially when the home screen opened up requesting another password. This page was programmed to move on to a crappy pixelated medieval game if the wrong password was put in. This one was a secret code word that only my closest friends knew, and I calmly typed it in.

With the correct password accepted, a completely different page opened up.

This one was in all black and white with very few tabs trailing down the left side and a large calendar taking up most of the center. I clicked on the top most tab where important or urgent information was recorded and sent out an encrypted email. I typed in the person I wanted to send it to, who was technically my handler/lead contact, and quickly detailed the information I had overheard my father and brothers talk about just last night.

It was the main reason why I insisted on coming back and ‘living’ here in my family’s estate. The only reason why I put up with the very people that cared more about their reputation and family name than their only daughters well-being. And it was the very least I could do to try and untaint the Evans name. A name that, not too long ago, had been considered a friend and Guardian to any and all Demons. That is, until my great-grandmother was rejected by a Demon man that she became obsessed with. That one rejection had the crazed woman coldly turning her back on all the good that our ancestors had done in order to help and protect Demons that were stuck in our world. It was her choice that turned the family away from being a trusted ally to all Demons.

Now, after years of going down a dark and polluted path, the Evans family was known and seen as one of the wealthiest supporters, suppliers and informers of Hunters in all manner of Organizations.