Star Eater
Chapter 1

Being possessed wasn't like in the movies, TV, or manga—at least not for Kai. There was no green vomit, eye rolling, strange languages, or horns. He didn't have spikes, holes, or tattoos; no bodily marks of any kind unless you counted the small burn scar beside his mouth. Which, in Kai’s opinion, didn't really count because, one: it was so faded as not to be noticeable anymore, and two: it hadn't been made by the demon. That small burn mark had come from the star Kai swallowed—a star, coincidentally, that the demon had been holding onto at the time.

In Kai’s defense, he’d been a toddler and anyone with a toddler knows that all small, shiny objects in grabbing distance are fair game to be tasted. And the star had been very shiny. The demon, not so much. He’d been mostly a dark, viscous gelatin around the star. And Kai had swallowed them both. Now, he was like one of those Russian dolls: him, the demon, and the star.

“Good morning,” Akuma, the demon, said cheerfully as Kai blinked awake.

Coughing dust out of his mouth, Kai rolled onto his back and wished for water. Above him the night sky faded out from twinkling diamonds to distant fireflies. Around him the air was heavy with the smell of jacaranda flowers and sagebrush.

Sitting up, Kai patted dirt and sand away and got his bearings. He was on a dusty trail on the sharp edge of a deep ravine. The trail was high up because beyond the rugged wilderness of the park was the familiar and unimpressive view of the San Fernando Valley. Beyond that, hugging the horizon, was the thin navy line of the Pacific Ocean against a pale sky. To his left, a sign marked the trail he was on. Somewhere in the hills above Mulholland, he thought. Akuma nodded.

No, being possessed wasn’t like it was depicted in pop culture. For Kai, being possessed mostly consisted of waking up in places other than his bed. And it had been this way for the past eleven years.

“Morning,” he mumbled, combing his hair out of his eyes and then rubbing crust away. “Can we make a deal that if you take me into the hills, you at least bring water?” Kai asked.

Beside him, Akuma nodded. “I'll try and remember.”

Akuma's voice sounded gravelly and warm, which always struck Kai as incongruous to the demon’s shadowy nature. For one, the demon didn't have vocal cords, or any physical organs. There was no reason for him to have a speaking voice, let alone one that sounded warm and avuncular. For another, Akuma was icy cold, cold enough to burn the skin if Kai touched him too long when the demon was in Kai’s shadow. And when Akuma was underneath Kai’s skin, he brought down Kai’s core temperature four degrees. It was one of the many mysteries surrounding the demon that Kai didn't have answers to, not that he’d ever really bothered to investigate.

Right then, Akuma was sitting next to Kai in his shadow, mirroring Kai’s pose in ebony. At a glance, they were two friends having a chat, the boy and his Peter Pan shadow.

“Hey, we are friends,” Akuma protested, responding to Kai’s thoughts. Except Akuma couldn’t separate from Kai like Peter Pan’s shadow could. His legs and feet became formless and disappeared into Kai’s feet like a tether.

“Yeah,” Kai glanced around. There was no one on the path. “I just don’t want anyone to see you.”

At least Akuma tended to stick to less-traversed trails. Kai did not want to dodge early morning joggers. He was already small for his age, looking closer to twelve rather than fourteen. Being found in dirty pajamas and no shoes would inevitably lead to the police getting involved. Following police, his parents would be called and Kai simply could not have that. He worked very hard not alert them to his—or rather Akuma’s—nighttime activities. At least he had socks.

“See, I remembered the socks,” Akuma said. Through his tether, Kai could tell that Akuma was feeling proud of himself.

Around a yawn, Kai simply said, “Good job, buddy. Next time, water,” and stood up.

The sun was coming; school was in a few hours and Kai needed to get ready. He checked his Fitbit. It was almost 5:00 a.m. He ran through the vitals the Fitbit had recorded in the night and judged his body had gotten three, maybe four hours of rest. It wasn't the worst night he'd had; being possessed also left Kai in a constant state of sleep deprivation. Demons didn't sleep, or at least Akuma didn't. Kai didn't know any other demons.

“They looked good last night,” Akuma said, face turned upwards.

“Hmm,” Kai replied, standing. “You do remember you have your very own star, right? I mean that's the reason you fell to Earth.” He stretched his arms overhead as he spoke, then shivered when the Santa Ana winds blew against him. October in Los Angeles wasn't cold, per se, but in the middle of the night it could still go down to the fifties and Kai wasn’t wearing much.

“I know,” Akuma agreed, sounding bashful. “But sometimes I miss home.”

Grunting, Kai bent over and stretched his hamstrings, then winced when he felt sand grate along the skin in his groin. He wiggled, trying to dislodge it. When that didn't work, and it never did, he sighed and straightened. He was ninety percent positive Akuma didn't go rolling around in the dirt naked with his body on these nightly jaunts. But he didn't have access to Akuma's memories and whenever Akuma took him to the hills there was always sand later. Sand got in everywhere.

“Okay,” Kai said, glancing around. He was more than awake enough for his morning run. He considered their location. Home was technically closer but that course was all hills. Besides, there was no one there to notice him. And he was hungry.

Attuned to his thoughts Akuma said with a grin, “Bear claws.”

“Bear claws,” Kai agreed, smiling back. The demon didn’t have a nose or a tongue, but he did so enjoy the smell of bear claws.

Before Kai could head in the direction of said sugary pastries, there was the distinct sound of rocks and dirt cascading down the steep trail and it was getting closer. Akuma flatlined, which is what Kai called it when the demon deflated Kai's shadow. The demon didn't slither back into Kai’s body, though, but held himself still, waiting.

The boy turned to confront whoever was coming up the trail. They were too close for him to get away. The ravine was too steep to go down and there wasn't enough brush to hide in. His liar's instincts kicked in and Kai had five semi-plausible stories prepped for why he was out in the middle of the night in only his pajamas and socks. One of them involved the mob, and although it was the least plausible story, Kai was fairly proud of it given the time constraint.

What came up from the trail wasn't a person, however, but a coyote. Now, there were tons of coyotes in and around L.A. and they had little fear of humans. Kai had seen his fair share waking up in strange places in the middle of the night. This coyote was an adult, maybe thirty pounds, its large ears flicked forward as it barked at him.

Coyotes rarely attacked people. They were scavengers and hunters of opportunity. But Kai was painfully aware of how small and whip-thin he was, not to mention there wasn't an ounce of aggression in him. He was an opportunity and the coyote looked very hungry. It lowered its head, muscles bunching as it prepared to attack. Kai just sighed. It was way too early for this.

The coyote leapt and Kai distantly admired its form and how, given normal circumstances, its front paws would have hit him squarely in the chest and its teeth would have landed in his throat. Unfortunately for the coyote, Kai phased out, felt a peculiar shudder from the star inside of him, and then the tingle of nerves as the poor animal went through him. It wasn't expecting that, of course, and the momentum carried it in a beautiful arc, until it hit the ground hard, tripped, landed on its chest and slid for about seven feet behind Kai.

Kai cringed in sympathy, having turned and witnessed the end of the leap. Akuma rose up between them, billowing out in Kai’s shadow like an angry black balloon. As the coyote collected itself, the demon casually reached out and grabbed a hold of its bushy tail. The coyote yelped in shock, then pain, immediately pumping its legs in a vain attempt to escape Akuma's searing grip.

“Akuma,” Kai rebuked.

The demon turned to Kai without letting go, easily holding the struggling animal. “It tried to kill you,” he said.

The coyote whipped around and tried to bite Akuma's hand in his desperation to get away. Kai could see the fur falling off his tail where Akuma's hand held it firmly. Its mouth and teeth passed through the dark shadow and it yipped in distress as all those related parts also got a taste of below freezing temperatures.

“Let it go, Akuma,” Kai said firmly.

With a shake of his head, the demon obeyed and the coyote scrambled away and dashed down the trail. They could hear it yipping in pain for a few minutes before the quiet returned.

“It tried to kill you,” Akuma defended stubbornly, disapproving of Kai's sympathy.

“Yeah, and from what you've told me, all your siblings tried to kill you all the time,” Kai said, shaking out his limbs. “It’s not personal, it’s... I don't know, life? By the way, what the hell was that shudder from the star?”

Akuma quieted as he took stock. “It feels,” he cocked his head, “a little dim. We need to feed it,” he said.

“We need to feed both of us,” Kai snorted. “Okay, I think the nurse's office has hydrogen peroxide. We can steal it when we get to school.”

Akuma silently agreed and retracted from Kai's shadow and into his body. It was like a cold river running up his legs and into his stomach, but comforting in a familiar, homey way.

I'm starving, Kai thought as he took off at a run. Inside him, a tiny star wrapped up in a darkness demon pulsed out, seemingly in agreement.

On another plane of reality, another teenager was not handling the morning's setbacks with quite as much grace as Kai.

Mason raged. He raked the ground with his claws. He punched and smashed stone pillars the size of telephone poles into dust. He roared and thrashed and carried on at the uncaring environment until the area just outside his family's territory was unrecognizable. And when the last of his energy poured out along with his sweat and tears, he collapsed in a pile and wept. This was the twenty-seventh time he had searched for and failed to replace the case. And his fits were getting worse.

The eerie wind of the Plains picked up and began healing the worst damage of his temper tantrum. Within hours the harsh elements that ruled this place would soften the marks. In a few days the damage would be erased entirely. Some of those rock formations might even regrow back. Mason didn't understand why. The physics of the Plains had no set of rules that he or any other daemon could ascribe to or follow. It hardly mattered.

No one came to the Plains anymore save to sharpen their claws or, like him, vent the powerful rages that took hold of his kind. The difference was, most daemons reveled in the power and fury that flowed so naturally through their bodies as they grew. It gave them the strength and confidence to challenge and change ranks in the ever-tumultuous landscape of clan politics.

Mason loathed it. He loathed every aspect of what he was and what his family was. Death and blood and pain—that's all he associated with the surname Wright. All he wanted was to escape. But to do that and guarantee the safety of his mother and sister, he needed the case.

He had taken perhaps the greatest risk that night, searching his father’s private study to no avail. Before that, his attempts had included everything from the arms caches, to the escort hotel, to the family vault. Anywhere with beefed up security, which had been hell to avoid, Mason had checked.

If his failure wasn't frustrating enough, while he had stood in the center of his father’s study, going through the obvious places, he then, stupidly, checked the fish tank. He had been struck by a memory of Batman, who was definitely, in Mason’s opinion, a daemon. No human is that violent, aggressive, and fast, I don't care what anyone says. And the device Batman used to get into the Batcave—a switch in the fish tank—had floated to mind.

Unfortunately, Mason's father, Silas Wright, didn't keep koi or exotic tropical fish. No, Silas Wright collected things associated with power like one of Napoleon’s canons, which stood in the garden. Or the gun that had shot President Kennedy, which hung in the dining room. Or the glass crown of a Sidhe king that no mortal could wear, which sat on a shelf behind Silas’s desk. In the fish tank, Silas kept piranhas. One of the buggers had managed to bite hard enough into Mason’s scaly transformed skin to draw blood. That had started the tantrum. That, and the failure.

Where does an archdaemon hide the highest symbol of his power? Mason wondered.

Realizing the eerie wind and the bleak, sulfurous landscape was not going to provide answers, Mason shuffled back to the approximate spot where he’d last marked his personal territory. Then he blinked out of the Plains and back onto Earth, landing in the center of his bedroom.

Just looking around at the room, he almost went back into a fit but tightly reining in his anger, Mason sat on the carpet. He crossed his legs and focused his breathing. Eventually, the red scales retreated. His hair turned from a witch’s blue-black to a rich dark blonde. The neon orange eyes faded to grey and all the horns and spikes and tiny wings that had recently sprouted retracted under his skin.

By the time his alarm went off, he was another teenager with a moody attitude. Except, he was growing more desperate.