Demons 3 Draft 1 CH 07 (Patreon)

I pause on entering the house. The area traditionally populated with chairs, a couch, and a screen for entertaining guests has medical equipment, computers, sensors, and a variety of others I never expected to see again.

“This isn’t needed,” I say, my stomach tightening. The memories of the experiments scientists performed on me are still clear. The pleasure many of them displayed in finding out how much pain and damage I could endure, how far they could push me before my reflexes and mind failed.

“You’re back!” The woman entering from a backroom is small but thick for her height, her short hair is coppery, her eyes brown, and her smile is what Jason liked to call blinding. Her happiness at my presence does not engender comfort. “I couldn’t wait for you to be up and about. I have so many questions about you.”

“I’m fine,” I state.

“I’m sure you feel that way, but I’m the doctor, I’ll be the one to decide that.” He pats the medical bed. It is simpler than what the scientists used.

“I know how my body functions. Once I’d eaten again, I’ll be fully functional.” I look at Moores, who takes a step away from me. “I thank you for your hospitality, I’ll leave now.”

“No, you aren’t,” she says. Her smile is gone, her expression is serious. It reminds me of Amanda when I didn’t measure up to her expectations. A memorable occurrence because of how rarely she wore it; until those last few days. “I don’t let my patients just walk out because they think they’re fine. You were brought to me after being torn apart by a wrinkleskin. I don’t doubt that whatever they did to you makes you tough, you wouldn’t have survived for me to help you if it hadn’t, but you are going to put your ass on this bed and let me examine you. If I say you’re well enough, then you can leave.”

I glance at Moores, he is the person in charge here.

“Feel free to argue with her, she won’t do what I tell her.”

“Not when it comes to someone’s health,” she says. She pats the bed again, her expression softer.

The reflex to do what a scientist tells me is still there, but I have years of doing what I want to combat it. “If I do not like what you do, I will stop it.”

“Perfectly fair.” She smiles again. “Oh, and I’m going to need you out of those closes for the examination.”

“Maliya,” Moores warns her as I undress.

“I need to see everything if I’m going to form a proper opinion.” There is more to it. I can smell her excitement as she watches me. Her expression resembles Jason’s when he saw a man he desired.

Nude, I sit on the bed. Her touch is clinical, she fights her desire to touch me the way the women in the sexual movies Jason showed me touched the men. I recognize what she does. Feeling my pulse, testing the areas where the wrinkleskin pierced flesh and broke bones.

“You do heal quickly,” she comments. “And well. I can barely feel scaring where your skin was ripped. Do you know how quickly you heal compared to baseline humans?”

“No.” She raises an eyebrow and I elaborate without intending to. “All this was always for the scientists’ curiosity. I am. I heal quickly. It’s all I need.”

“Knowing your limits could help keep you alive, you know. That wrinkleskin came close to killing you.”

“Then I die.” The finality in my tone doesn’t match how I feel. It hasn’t matched for over a year now. She raises an eyebrow again. “I do not seek to die. There is still much of the world I want to see. But I will die, possibly violently. I accepted that when the lie behind my creation was told to me. I still accept it.”

“Taking on fights you can’t win isn’t how you stay alive,” Moores says.

“I can not stand aside when I believe a demon endangers humans. I have tried. I am in the wilds partially so I do not have to be in such a position. Would you have preferred I let a demon eat those children?”

“Of course not, but throwing yourself at a problem blindly isn’t a good way to do it.”

Malaya motions for me to lie back.

“I did not know I was blind. What you have here contradicts everything I have been told about demons and humans interactions, what I have experienced.”

“How strong are you?” she asked, cutting off Moores’s reply.

“Strong.”

She chuckles. “A stoic patient.” She looks at Moores. “You have no idea how refreshing that is.” The man looks away, blushing. “But I wish you knew a little more about yourself. I doubt I have anything that can use to set up a baseline for you. Demons aren’t really into weight lifting, although Many Names thought it would be fun, for a few days. I’m guessing you can’t tell me how much endurance you have, how fast you can run?”

“I can run faster than a support van through clear city traffic,” I stated. “And I can maintain that speed for six or seven kilometers without being too tired.”

“I’m going to guess you tested that in the field, not in the lab.”

I nod. “There were times when running back to the headquarter was more practical than waiting for the van to pick me up.”

She runs a hand over my black skin and it prickles before I can stop it. “You don’t like being touched?”

“It has rarely been a pleasant experience.”

She looks me over and her scent changes as her smile becomes lustful. “That’s something we should definitely remedy.”

“I have no interest in what you are imagining. Jason tested me, and I have no sexual drive, either for women or for men.” Or demons. The memory of Claws explaining how demons reproduce, of giving me a small demonstration. Of the recollection of him and Fangs doing it, I glimpsed in the process and how indifferent it left me. “Something in the process employed to make me stripped that from me.”

“That’s a shame,” she says. “Are you sure it isn’t something you’ve grown out of? I’d be more than happy to test—”

“I am sure.” I fix my eyes on hers. “I am not your toy. What you wish is immaterial to me.”

“I didn’t mean…” she trails off, hands raised, stepping away.

“Your smell says otherwise.”

Moores chuckles. “Looks like someone’s immune to your charms, Mal.”

“I guess it’s true what they say. There’s a first for everything.” She smiles at me. “I’m sorry, it’s just that usually men are—”

“I’m not interested in hearing your justification,” I cut her off. “Simply do not act on your impulses.”

“Okay,” she replies, put off by my directness. “Do you know anything about how they made you?” Her touch is clinical again when she touches my black arm, pressing and shifting the skin.

“They injected the man I used to be with a vaporized soul stone.”

“What’s that?” She reaches my neck and searches for a pulse there.

I hesitate. “How much do you know of what happens when a demon dies?”

“Not much. Protect has been good at ensuring no one who is within his territory dies, and he isn’t forthcoming about talking biology with me.”

“Could have something to do with you explaining human sex in detail,” Moores says under his breath.

“It was for research purposes,” she replies. Her blush and smell contradict her.

“Then I don’t think I should say more. It is part of who they are, so Protect should explain it if they feel it is something you should know. But they don’t refer to it as a soul stone. I don’t know that they have a name for it.”

“I’ll ask him about it,” Moores says. “He’ll be more responsive to me than you, Mal.”

“Why did you say ‘the man you used to be’?” she asks.

“The process destroyed his memories. Erased him. This is his body, but I am nothing of who he was other than the skills he knew. Jason referred to that as muscle memory. I know how to fight, how to fire a firearm, even if I have no memory of ever learning.”

“Do you know how it changed you?”

“I can tell you what it changed, but if you’re asking about the process by which it changed me, I don’t know.”

“How do you feel about x-rays?”

I frown. “I’m not familiar with it.”

“It’s a machine to see your insides. It throws radiations at you and it’s recorded on a plate. Demons don’t react well to radiation, better to some than others, but x-ray makes them sick.”

I recall the sword Amanda planted in my stomach. How I didn’t heal as quickly. The goop Claws placed on the wound to draw the poison out. “I do not react well to radiation, but I don’t know how it compares to demons.”

She nods. “We’ll go with a sonogram then. No point in risking your health just to see how you’re put together.” She rolls a machine closer and sets part of it over me. “If your hearing is close to that of demons, this might be uncomfortable.”

I wince at the piercing sound as she turns it on and slowly moved the device over me. I grit my teeth as it passes over my head and once it’s gone, it takes me a few seconds to realize it.

“Well, you were right. All the breaks are pretty much gone. The worst of them are barely micro fractures at this point. If you don’t tangle with another wrinkleskin, you should be fine in a few days.” She studies more of the image. “I’m amazed how dense your internal body is. Can you change the shape of your bones? The way demons can?”

“No. Only my skin, and just the black part, although I can extend it over part of the rest of my body if needed.” As a demonstration, I extend some over my face before letting it retract to my collar bone.

“Does it lose any durability when you stretch it like that?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“That’s pretty impressive. Very much like the demon’s skin. As thin as they can make it, it’s always extremely resilient. How far can you stretch it?”

“Over most of my body if I have to.”

“Can you show me?”

“No.” This time I don’t respond to her raised eyebrow. My worries over how much of me there will be left the day I am fully covered with the black skin are my own. Claws reassurances aside, even he admits I am unique and no one can really know what will happen. Not even Amanda.

Once she understands I won’t answer, she nods. “Well, I’m giving you as clear of a bill of health as I can, considering your physiology is very different from what I’m used to. You’re free to go if you think that’s what’s best for you.” She rolls the machine back where it had been as I dress.

Protect is by the house when I exit with Moores. He looms over me, his growl a threat, a promise of a swift death. “Are you certain?” they ask Moores.

“Moores!” a man yells, running toward us. “Moores! They’re back.” I straighten at the fear in the man’s tone. The undercurrent under Protect’s silence is worry.

I turn to them. “Who’s back?”