THE DEATH OF THE DAMONS

“Wake up Xavier.”

13 year old Xavier Damon decided that he couldn’t keep ignoring the voice that had been beckoning to him for the past thirty minutes. He turned and stretched in his bed, tired. He looked up at the broken clock hanging loosely on the cracked wall of his room. It was 10pm.

“But I slept off by 10 and it’s been hours,” he said to himself coming down from the bed.

He opened the door of his room and walked through the corridor. From the other end, he could hear the sound of water dropping steadily from the kitchen . He paused and perked his ears to listen. Something was not right!

In the thirteen years he had lived with his family in one of the oldest and most dilapidated house in Manhattan, there was one thing he knew for sure – the kitchen tap never leaked. Every other tap in the apartment but not the kitchen tap. He walked further, his grip tight on the torchlight in his hand, ready to put it on at any minute and go “Bam!” on whoever he would find snooping around.

Getting to the door of the kitchen he stopped to listen. He could swear that he heard his kid sister, Layla whimpering. She was up to her tricks again! Angrily, he burst into the kitchen, switching the torch on.

“Layla if you think this is a joke then….”

“Xa-xa-xavier,” she stuttered, her voice muffled by a pair of hands covering her mouth.

Xavier Damon stared down at his kid sister on the floor, blood flowing from a cut on her lower lip, staining the white tiles of the kitchen floor.

“Who..who..are you?” he stammered, pointing the torch towards the figure, whose head was bent down towards the ground as he covered Layla’s mouth.

“Who do you think Xavier Damon?” the man replied raising his head up.

Under full lighting, Xavier could make out his features very well. He was devilishly handsome with gleaming black eyes. His golden hair fell across his face, covering one eye and ran down his back. He looked fourty or older and Xavier immediately guessed that Layla must have stolen something valuable that belonged to him.

“I would return it,” he pleaded. “Whatever she stole I would pay you back.”

“Oh but you didn’t steal did you?” the man grinned turning to Layla on the floor. “Your beloved brother calls you a thief.”

Xavier turned to Layla on the floor and stared at her. The fear that had been written all over her face was no longer there. It had been replaced by anger and hatred. He knew that look quite well. Layla had always been a pickpocket: old watches, coins, anything at all that sparkled and he had never failed to remind her that she was a thief. He knew that was the one name she hated being called. They had fought over it a lot but there he was, affirming it in the presence of a stranger.

“She is,” he repeated. “But she’s also my sister. Tell me and I’ll pay.”

“Too bad,” the man replied standing up. “I’ve seen lots of bad last words but calling your sister a thief?”

“What!” Xavier exclaimed but it was too late already.

The man went down with lightening speed and with a sickening crack, he pulled the 8 year old’s head from her neck.

“They always stain my tux,” he muttered, wiping the blood that had splattered all over his white suit.

Xavier was too shocked to move. He stood still, staring at the head of his younger sister in the strange man’s hand.

“I know you’re feeling like a terrible person right now,” the man said patting Xavier on the shoulder. “But come along now. I don’t have all night and there are lots of deaths for you to watch.”

He walked briskly out of the kitchen, his shoes carrying blood all the way and Xavier had to run to catch up with him.

“I’ll kill you, you bastard!” Xavier screamed running towards him.

“Don’t come anywhere near me,” he commanded not even looking back at Xavier. “You’re meant to die last.”

“Arghhhhh!” Xavier screamed as he attacked, blinded by rage.

“Kira!”

A dark figure bursted through the ceiling and landed on Xavier, pinning him to the ground. He struggled to move but there was no way. Looking up, he noticed that the person holding him down had grey fur like a wolf, gleaming red eyes and sharp claws. A wolf girl.

“That’s Kira,” the man announced. “My right hand. Kira make sure Xavier remains a good boy would you? The show is about to start.”

He jogged up the stairs in a jiffy and the next second, Xavier could hear all the doors banging open one by one.

“No one here,” his voice echoed from above.

“No one here too.”

“Lots of empty rooms. Where’d they all go? Hawaii?”

“Don’t open the fourth door,” Xavier prayed.

He kicked the fourth door open and the whole house was silent for a while.

“Knew I’d find you here Dan,” the man laughed. “And the ever sweet Maya. You could have married me! What a fine breed we’d have raised! The first of it’s kind. Such a shame…” He paused for a while.

“And the twins. So adorable. What’s your name boy?”

“Brian,” he heard his little brother say.

“And you? Come on, don’t be scared.”

“Luke.”

“Okay, Brian and Luke. Mummy and Daddy made some bad decisions a long time ago…” Brian started to whimper.

“Don’t cry boy. Don’t cry. The pain won’t be long,” the man said.

“Ghost!” Xavier heard his father say. “We could talk. Take me, take Maya, spare the kids.”

“I could,” Ghost replied “But that would be unfair to poor Layla, wouldn’t it?”

Xavier heard a loud roar and he blacked out immediately. He woke up minutes later to see the wolf girl staring him down and the headless bodies of his parents and brothers beside him.

“Why?” he cried.

“You are an Alpha,” Kira said walking up to him. “And you have to die.”

Xavier closed his eyes and felt the world spin as his head left his body.