thought of him singing for her. She was sure that he wouldn't do it.
Kennedy hadn't met many demon-human hybrids in her life, but she knew that no matter how much he claimed to like her, Damien would never lower himself to sing that goofy song for any human.
"Happybirthdaytoyouhappybirthdaytoyouhappybirthdaydearkennedyhappybirthdaytoyou.” Okay, so she knew squat.
It was hurried and muttered in one toneless breath, but he did sing for her.
“There, now go ahead and make your wish so that I may go jump into the murky depths of the raging ocean in humiliation.” She still couldn't believe that he had sung for her.
She lowered her head towards her crushed birthday cake and briefly closed her eyes as she blew out the flame, making her wish silently in her head.
She wished for her dad to come home and for their lives to go back to the way that they were before all that mess with the demons began. Okay, so it was actually two wishes in one. She just hoped that fate felt a little charitable that day.
"Do I dare ask what it is that you wished for?" He asked mirthfully as he split the yellow cake in half and handed her the biggest one. She ate it gleefully and he did the same.
"Nope, your beguiling charm won't help you out this time, Mr. Leoni." Had she really just said that, and with her mouth full? She swallowed.
Oh, she wished that the rock would crack open and let the ocean take her away. But, dammit, she had already spent her one birthday wish.
"You wished for a more extensive vocabulary?" He didn't seem bothered by her retarded attempt at flirting.
"You're right. Oh, poo. Now I'm talking like you!"
"You should be so lucky."
"Oh, shut up." Yeah, Kennedy should learn to take her own advice and shut up herself from time to time.
"Hey, it is flattering to be found beguiling. Although, I do have to ask, do you even know the meaning of the word?"
"As well as you know the meaning of shutting up."
"I see." That last comment was followed by silence, no doubt as a way for him to prove his point, which Kennedy didn't see much of.
Something that she did see a lot of was the ocean. It spread to the far reaches of her eyesight and beyond making her think, yet again, about her probable untimely demise. She couldn't help herself, ever since she had arrived at the beach she had been filled with a dense feeling of dread. It was as if something fatal was about to happen and it was all out of her hands because she didn't even know what it was.
A sigh sounded to her side and she turned to witness as Damien pulled yet another thing out of his pocket.
"Wow! Are those bottomless like Bernie's magical toy bag?" She asked and signaled to his pocket after a fit of mortifying giggles.
He made a face, but didn't reply.
The sun was halfway down to its nightly resting place, but there was enough light left for her to see well as he gave her the bundle of burgundy colored cloth that he had in his hand. She took it and her sense of touch let her know that he had given her some kind of hard metal thing that felt a lot like a knife wrapped inside the cloth.
The cold feeling of dread that she had been fruitlessly trying to fight off for the better part of the evening came back. She slowly unwrapped the thing with a very tremulous hand that she stupidly hoped he didn't notice.
When the final piece of folded cloth gave way, it revealed a shiny blade attached to an intricately designed handle shaped like a dragon holding a red jewel between its claws.
She was amazed and close to panic, but it did look very cool. Hurriedly and messily, she folded the cloth back around the dagger.
"This is a knife, you gave me a knife." Her tone was flat, but the fact that her statement was more of a question was not lost on Damien.
"The proper term is Athame – he corrected and continued – and the stone at its hilt is infused with my blood as well as my power. It is for your protection. I was going to give it to you anyway, but it is fairly fitting as an impromptu birthday present." He shrugged.
"You gave me a knife." She repeated. Her words reflected the incredulity that she felt inside.
"Yes, but it is such a pretty knife." He couldn't think of a better way to explain it at the moment.
"What if the one coming after me is stronger than you are?" She asked seriously.
He had some power, she had seen him order that bald brute around, but he had also made it clear that there were those that could order him around and the sole idea of that was enough to freak her out all over again.
"Then we pray." For all the good that it would do them.
"Well, there's a comforting picture." She heaved a weary sigh.
"I do not know what happened between your mother and you, but you should not let it drive you apart, especially now that your father is missing." Kennedy looked up incredulously at that. She couldn't believe that he had just gone there.
That's right, he didn't know! She screamed in her head.
"Wow, that was a drastic change of subject." Sarcasm dripped from her every word and informed him of everything she held back from saying.
"I can tell that you are angry– "
"Understatement." She interrupted rudely.
"My mother was a wonderful woman." He said then, a soft tone taking hold of his voice. Kennedy was stunned into silence. He'd never spoken about his past like that. He had never spoken about his past at all.
"She used to bake me cakes to celebrate all kinds of occasions. From birthday's and baseball victories to a silly high mark on a school assignment. She was human, as you may have figured."
Kennedy nodded and he went on to tell her how Amelia – that had been his mother's name – had raised him all by herself as a single mother in old fashioned nineteen forties Romania, where such a thing was greatly frowned upon. Even more so at that time.
In spite of his unlikely origins, he had been well accepted within the lower class society that his mother had surrounded herself with after his birth.
He told her about how she left her skin working at a rope factory during the week and as a waitress on the weekends just so that he could have everything that she thought he deserved and about all of the times that she would sit and talk with him until he fell asleep even if she was almost dead on her feet herself.
Then he told her what he could remember about how she died the night of his thirteenth birthday. He had been awakened suddenly by his bedroom door slamming shut and sat up in bed to see a terrified Amelia leaning against it.
She was spilling what appeared to be the kitchen's salt on the wooden floor. He called out to her and wondered if he was dreaming it all when she gasped and threw open the door, running out into the living room.
His eyes misted over, but no tears fell. Kennedy wondered if his tears had already been spent after so many years of grieving. She wanted so much to comfort him. Her hands ached to touch his, to let him know that she was there. But, she was afraid that one touch would be too much, that it would shatter his composure and make him retreat back into himself. So she sat still and let him go on with his story.
Damien confided in her that he had been very scared and confused as he sat there waiting for his mother to return. Then he heard it, the unmistakable sound of malicious male laughter followed by his mother's choked scream. His mother's cry made him run to her aid.
When he had gotten to her, it had been too late.
Amelia lay on the floor with her neck twisted at an odd angle and an athame sticking out of her chest. Her beautiful brown eyes were open, unblinking. The dark shape of a man loomed over her with his back to him and his hand on the hilt of the murder weapon.
Fury rose in him unlike anything he had ever felt before. A wave of something hot and cold rushed through him, starting at the pit of his stomach and spreading to the palms of his hands.
Then he felt it, it was like a dam had burst open and suddenly he was screaming, tackling the man that dared to hurt his mother. The force behind his im
pact was such that both of them went flying over the living room couch and landed on the floor on the other side.
Blinded by his rage, he failed to identify the energy blasts coming out of his hands as they were practically harmless to his opponent. A man that, he would later learn, was his half brother from his father's side and that looked dumbfounded at him as if he were some creature from outer space.
He heard somebody shout to the man. He hadn't even noticed that there had been other people in the room. The man that he knew then as Dante grabbed him by the neck with one hand and lifted him effortlessly from the ground. His legs flailed at the air underneath them and his pride screamed at his futile attempt to avenge his mother.
They had wanted to have him killed too, but the man that had shouted, Buer, his now mentor, convinced them not to. He said that Damien had showed promise and that he would take it upon himself to train him properly.
Dante dropped him harshly and Damien wasted no time. He threw out another energy ball. His effort was for naught, because the object of his fury had disappeared from the room, leaving the attack to land on the wall.
He felt all the air rush out of his lungs as something hit him in the back of the head and made him see black.
He woke up at Eden Manor, Buer's mansion in England, after tha. Thus began his second life as a half demon lackey to the Lillake Brethren. It was one of the many demonic brethrens that formed the Great Circle of the Fallen Covenant and Damien was sworn to serve them, always bidding his time until he could finally exact