The Spirits' Guide

Owen swallowed his scream as the blade pressed closer to his throat. He watched as the girl in the black dress stared at the one behind him.

His stomach plummeted to the ground as he stared into Iris's eyes. He swallowed back a wave of fear and nausea as he understood who held the knife. Iris's gaze turned away from Abigail's to Owen's.

"Leave me be, witch. This matter belongs to the demons." Abigail threatened Iris calmly. Iris leveled a cool glare on Abigail.

"You killed one of my girls, Abigail. Even if you hadn't done that, the boy is still half witch. We have a say in the matter of his life," Iris scoffed. Abigail sighed, the blade on Owen's neck slightly loosening its grip.

"He threatens Nabal." Abigail croaked. Iris glanced at Owen before she looked back to Abigail.

"Why are you helping him? Because of him, you lost your sainthood. I can speak to the gods, get them to help you." Iris suggested. What was between the two of them? Did they know each other?

"I made my choice when I laid with David. I chose to sacrifice my sainthood and humanity for him and I will not go back on that decision. You should know all about that." Abigail growled at Iris. Draped in black that seemed oddly natural for her, Iris shrugged.

"I never gave up my chastity for a man who would just pawn me off the moment he had a chance of profit. The only reason why he hasn't done that to you yet is because you serve him his every wish and do it well," Iris paused, reaching through the slit in her dress to pull a knife from a strap on her thigh, before continuing, "and a better offer hasn't come. So, tell me, is the boy Belial's bastard?" Owen began to shake with a fury.

"All of his children are bastards," Abigail said simply. Within a heartbeat, Owen felt a sting in his throat.

He watched as Iris, wide-eyed, shouted and dived for him. He didn't understand what was happening until he felt a hot, sticky liquid stain his shirt.

He began to feel more than just a sting but a burn. Oh, how his throat burned. He could hear Iris's shouts faintly as he felt a growing cold move from his fingertips to engulf his entire arm.

"You would have done the same," He heard Abigail say, strangely loud since he could barely hear Iris's screams. What was the witch saying? Slowly, sleep engulfed him.

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"What am I going to do?" Iris muttered quickly to herself as she held onto Owen's wound. Blood no longer gushed but only slowly seeped out.

She knew it was a futile effort. No mortal could survive such a wound.

She finally leaned back when she felt the body stop twitching. Sitting in an awkward position, Iris stared at corpse. She could feel her own slit throat, hidden under a thick velvet choker, sting in guilt. First it was April, then it was her, now it is Owen but only one of them walked away.

She looked away from the body and stared at her bloody hands, both covered in silk gloves that helped to hold her severed left hand in place to reattach. She knew the feeling of blood from past experiences, but it felt wrong.

She knew Owen, barely, but she knew him. She'd even taken a liking to the boy but now his blood was on her hands. She'd killed friends before, but this wasn't the same. She was supposed to save him, keep him safe.

She covered her mouth with one of her bloody hands to smother the sob. She listened to the strangled scream with tears in her eyes.

She hated this feeling, the sense of not being good enough. A simple and weak demon and a stupid boy was all it took for her job to go down in smoke.

"Get up," a voice demanded her. She ignored him. She had no plans. What was she going to do next? Avenge April? Owen? She had no plans, nothing to say for her time in Aneria than just the deaths of a witch and a half-witch.

"I said get up!" He shouted as he yanked Iris off the ground.

Slamming her into the wall behind her, he snarled, "Don't pull this bullshit now. It was just a mutt, a stupid little mortal boy that meant nothing to either of our own existences. He was nothing more than dust."

Iris looked into his eyes, eyes she could never tell the color of, and said, "Every life has meaning. He was half witch, his life had meaning. The boy was the bastard son of Belial, the half brother of Lucifer and Nabal. Owen's death means that either one could inherit his powers. If Lucifer gets any stronger than he already is..." She trailed off at the end, wondering if she would ever be able to handle defeating one of the princes of hell.

Unlikely would go to impossible if he were to ever grow stronger. She would not let that happen. Too many lives were lost because of that demon and she was going to slaughter him like cattle.

He slackened slightly as Iris got her feet under her. He released her as she raised her head, eyes glowing with a fury. She wasn't good enough for Owen, but she was good enough to finish the job.

"What am I going to do next? Abigail's killed Owen but if we can get to her, I might be able to kill her, that should fix the problem if Belial were to have anymore bastards." She muttered, thinking of a plan that could turn the job in her favor.

Iris grew quiet. If she were to enter Hell, she would be able to reach Abigail before she informed Nabal of her plans. Curse those demons.

He broke the silence by saying with a sigh, "Belial had another bastard. Name's Gianluka, Owen's older brother. Frankly, I'm quite surprised he was able to survive as long as he did with Abigail chasing after him like a hell-hound." Iris stared at the ground as she caught his tone. He did not want to tell her this. He knew of Gianluka, but he never told her.

Iris glared up at him as she asked, "There's a brother?"

"Yes, he came to the hotel looking for us. Although it may be a trap."

"What are we going to do about the body?"

"I'll take care of it. Just return to the hotel and speak with the man, that demon woman doesn't seem to know what he looks like so she won't know he's dead." He explained to her as he motioned from Owen's body to the end of the alley. Iris nodded, unsure if he was talking about Abigail or Josephine.

She would leave such a morbid task to someone who would enjoy it. Hopefully, he burned the body. Owen was a witch, maybe not a full one, but he was still a witch who deserved the burial of one.