The day after my parents' wedding, I filled a duffle bag with clothes and money, even adding a book of photographs into the mix. I flipped through the pages a couple of times before I left for the train that Dillan had tickets to. Earlier in the week, he, Fango, and Delta had gotten the tickets. I never asked how, just knew that they would be used on our journey to Vegas to save Mary. Oliver had the theory that they had probably relocated her, but Dillan argued that Bluethorne probably didn't remember me taking the paper since he was hit on the head so hard.

I put foot after foot, carrying the bag at my side. It bounced off and on my leg with each step I took, each one carrying me away from home from what I thought would be sometime. Each and every step added just a little more weight to my heart, tearing me away from my parents and my little sibling, who would probably be born by the time I got back. My heart clenched as I remembered slipping out the door, unnoticed and unseen by my family.

Yet, there were more urgent matters up ahead. Saving Mary.

I sat on the bench and checked the watch in my wrist, which read eleven twenty-two. The train came at one, and the station was right out of Milton. On top of that, I had to wait for my group, which, of course, consisted of Oliver, Delta, Dillan, Fango, Carter and Ace. The rest of the group would create vessels once the train was to begin moving.

I groaned as I watched the time tick up to eleventh thirty. Each minute seemed like an eternity, especially since it would take us about an hour to get to the train station. "Damn it, boys, what's taking you so long?" And I thought it was the girls that took forever to get ready! Then again, I did just keep on the same skinny jeans and Metallica t-shirt I slept in, then put on a pair of shoes I found in the attic. Groaning, I put one leg over the other, running my sender finger along the bench's plastic wood. "Fuck."

Someone grabbed my shoulders from behind and bit my ear.

I let out a shriek and backhanded the person, spinning around as I grabbed by ear with one hand and pulled the sword from my belt with the other. My weapon only slipped out a few inches before I saw the person and let it sink back into the sheath I had made for it. "Dillan Raking, what the fucking Hell!?"

"Frustrated people are tasty!" Dillan exclaimed, wiping his mouth with a laugh.

Face burning with rage, I let my arm droop from my ear. The bite wasn't even gentle, and I was surprised he hadn't taken a nick out of my flesh. "Where's all your stuff?" I asked, watching as Oliver followed close behind him.

"Delta agreed to carry it. There's only two bags with all of the boys' stuff in them, so he will be fine. How do you have so much stuff that you need a whole bag?"

I flushed. "Granted, I have room in here and no one to share room with. Plus, I am a girl. I have things I would rather not let a bunch of guys snoop through."

Dillan snickered. "Afraid of Fango seeing your bra?"

"I swear, Dillan Raking, I will fucking cut your head off."

Oliver stepped in between us, taking the cigarette from his mouth to speak without mumbling through it. "Don't fight!" The silver smoke wished from his lips. "Nothing will get solved here. Vurandos, quit teasing my Extant." The white-haired Apotropaic gave the other boy a glare with his sapphire eyes. Dillan smirked.

Soon, Delta came dragging an over-stuffed duffle, while it seemed Fango had obliged to carrying the other one. Ace and Carter walked behind them. Carter's deepest gray eyes were wandering as he folded his hands into his shorts pockets. Ace had a gentle smile on his face, and he nodded at Oliver in greeting.

I gave the sight of the brothers a sad smile. I hope my little sibling and I get close. I wiped the smile off my face, then turned towards Dillan. "It's time to get going. The train leaves in an hour and twenty minutes, and it will be a struggle to get out of Millton and get to the station on time. You guys should have been here earlier. Scratch that, we should have all gotten here earlier."

Dillan rolled his violet eyes. "Nahara does this to."

"Does what?"

"Nags me about time. Is that a female thing?" Dillan scratched the back of his head. "Anyways, it's better than not showing up at all, right?" He gave a small, innocent smile and pushed his hands into the pocket of his sleeveless denim jacket. "So, are we going, or what?"

Oliver slipped his hand against the handle of my duffle, taking the weight from me. I gave him a glare, as if to say he didn't need to take and and I wasn't weak, but he only shrugged and let my duffle droop to his side.

Dillan placed one ticket in between his teeth and began passing out everyone else's. I snatched mine from him and placed it in the pocket of my skinny jeans, feeling naked without the carrying my own weight.

The others walked ahead of me as Ace and I took up the rear. Would he not soon be Mary's Apotropaic, I would have probably avoided him. However, I had to know what kind of Minium was expected to train my best friend and smaller soul sister. I prayed that he would be better than Oliver who, although protective, had yet to start consistently training me. Sure, there was every now and then, but that wasn't enough. Granted, things were a bit busy and now with Mary gone, but still...

I looked over at Ace. He looked like a seasoned shoulder, his back rigid and his black eyes set forward, unblinking. He also looked ready to fall apart. There was a certain weakness I could see under all that soldier-like strength, one that made me blink twice. At just the wrong words, he looked ready to snap inside but stand strong otherwise. Unless he had already been broken. I could see weakness. Defeat.

"So... You'll be Mary's Apotropaic, right?" I asked him cautiously.

Ace's black eyes snapped towards me, unable to process my words for a slight second before blinking in understanding. "Oh! Yeah! I'm excited to be able to talk to her and stuff after all this time!" The excited, tone-shifting voice of a teenager did not match his inside or outside appearance.

I nodded slowly, suddenly weary. "All of you Apotropaic seem pretty dedicated..." I glanced ahead to see each Extant, except for me, standing with their Apotropaic. Carter and Dillan were deep in conversation, Caleb and Delta were beside each other, and Mun and Fango were at least acknowledging each other's existence.

Ace smiled. "Especially my brother. Ever since he had met you, he came home every day talking about how awesome you were. Even before that, he spent two hundred years fantasizing about you. Not in the bad way."

I paled. "How old is Oliver? And how old are you?"

"Oliver is seven hundred years old. Honestly, we lost track of our exact age, but we just know he is younger and he is the youngest Apotropaic," explained Ace, whose eyes jumped over to his brother.

I let my hands slide into my pockets as I fiddled with the ticket, spacing off with my eyes trained on Oliver. The angled bob thinned on the back of his head, and I kept my eyes on his neck. I paid more attention to my thought, which sprung with wonders. I was becoming part of a project larger than me, and a group larger than life. Whenever Mary came, I would welcome her into this group. We all would. And maybe, just maybe, there would be a shot at us being normal before we die.

***

Before that day, I had never been on a train, but I found it to be like a slightly more fancy bus. Oliver sat in the seat beside me, and, creepy enough, he never took his eyes off of me. For an entire ten minutes, he wore a small small on his thin lips and his wide eyes were trained on me as he fidgeted with the sleeve of his hooded jacket.

"Why are you looking at me?" I growled, scraping my nail across the sword sheath.

Oliver gushed. "I can't, no matter how many times I look at you, even begun to comprehend how proud I am of who you turned out to be."

"Sheesh, you sound like my father." I skimmed my eyes over Oliver's cigarette. I wasn't sure if that was aloud on the train or not, but I wasn't about to say anything.

"Your father must be a good man," said Oliver, voice lifting into more of a question than a statement.

I said nothing to further the conversation. His father was Salt, which couldn't have been very good in itself. Instead of completely ending the conversation, I steered it into an entirely different direction. "My mother is a good woman, too. How is Ebony?" Of course, having of slipped I to her skin before, I was interested in what kind of mother the woman turned out to be.

Oliver glanced away. "I don't talk to her unless it's about you. I really wouldn't know..."

I sighed. Not good, then. I am really disappointed in you, Ebony Kalos.

I glanced out into the walkway, where an older man snaked by. He was older than Gary Bluethorne, but not by much. He had a well-muscled body, covered by a muscle shirt and shorts. He had a buzz cut and tattoos littering his arms, followed by black eyes that glanced my way.

My eyes widened. For the minute that he and I kept eye contact, the world seemed slow, and I could feel my heart pump cold blood through my body. His lips snaked into a grin, and he passed me with ease. I sat there, blinking after the stranger, unsure what had just happened.

Black eyes...

I turned and gripped Oliver's wrist. Said Apotropaic blinked at me in concern and confusion, tilting his slender face to the side. "What's wrong, Extant?"

"I..." His eyes could have been any color. It wasn't worth it to be wrong. "Though I saw something... Sorry..."

He gave a polite, patient smile. The same one a good parent gives a child to encourage them. "That's alright, Em. Has riding a train got you spooked?" Instead of sounding mocking, he appeared genuinely curious.

I shot him an angered look. "No. Not the train." Fuck you, Oliver. "Maybe something else, but I am not a weak-minded little bitch who pees her pants from new experiences."

"Emma, I didn't me-"

A gunshot.

***

A child, white hair messy over his little head, let the butterfly land on his hands. The butterfly did not exist.

Salt watched the child with the imaginary butterfly, smiling. His black eyes sparked with life, for even the most hateful demon could not help but come to love their child. This one, Oliver was his name, looked like him. He didn't dare bring the other one over to the Dark plane. That one was smarter and more loyal, and looked like his sister, Ebony, although she had given birth to the child in front of him.

"Why are my eyes blue and not black like a demon's?" innocent little Oliver had asked, letting the imaginary butterfly flutter off into nonexistence.

"Your bloodline was corrupted. Your mother was my sister, you see," Salt explained, taking little Oliver by the hand as they stepped off deeper into an imaginary castle.

"Did you love her?" Oliver could not find room in his little heart to judge love. He saw nothing wrong in anything.

Said demon stopped, crouched, and took his son by the shoulders. "Oliver, I did not love your mother. That aside... If we were to do something, would you keep it a secret?"

***

A woman staggered into the aisle, heart clutched over her chest. I jumped as the hot blood splattered against the floor, and she fell face-first.

Oliver covered my eyes from behind and pulled me back, away from the sight. I made no attempt to scold him, nor peel his hand off of my gaze. After all, I was terrified of the blood. Soon, he stepped in front of me. Being taller than him, I could still see over his shoulder.

The man who walked out from behind the dead woman was the same muscular man as before. He was covered in red and black liquid, a short sword in his hand.

He really is a demon... I curled my lip and pulled my sword out of its sheath, ready to fight.

Oliver held up a hand at me. "You haven't been trained properly with that thing. Let the others handle it."

"I'm not standing here pointlessly!" I growled. "I sensed that guy before! That's why I got afraid, but I didn't know what to do."

Oliver and I ducked behind the seats, well-hidden. I cringed at the smell of blood. "It's not that I don't think you can... But this is a Dark General... Satan."

My eyes flew wide.

Oliver drew his own knife from a pocket in his jacket, pressing himself against the seat. There was another gun shot, and the whole train came alive with screams. "Don't get me wrong... He is the weakest of them, but still powerful..."

Satan could be heard calling out, "Where is Emma Whitestone?!"

Oliver paled. "Why you?"

"I don't know..." I whispered over the sound of my own heart thundering in my ears. I prayed to Croma it had nothing to do with my false pact to betray Croma that Bluethorne and I had discussed. After all, no one weasels their way out of a deal with a devil. "When are we going to jump him?"

"Hold on... You stay.... Now..." Oliver spring out into the walkway, knife in hand. From my side, I watched him plunge forward towards Satan to attack.

From across the aisle, Dillon gave me a mildly panicked glance, then glanced through the crack in between the two seats. I copied him on my side, watching the blurred fight between my Apotropaic and the general. I gripped the seat, silently urging Oliver on.

I wasn't sure what had possessed me, but I found myself slipping into to walkway and fighting the urge to cough and gag. I brought my sword out as it slipped against its sheath, and Satan's eyes jumped to me. His mouth curved into a grin, and he easily threw Oliver aside. Wood splintered as my Apotropaic landed on a cart.

"Emma Whitestone. You're dumber than I thought, but no matter. I called for you, and now you are here." He licked his lips, letting his knife clatter onto the floor in a pool of blood.

"This is my fight. No one is going to fight it for me," I clarified. Why do I keep getting myself into these damn situations?! I angled my blade out in front of me. The word 'WHITESTONE' blazed in purple.

"That's Bluethorne's sword..." he observed. "How did you get that?"

"Doesn't matter." Within completion of the sentence, I swiped my blade through the air. There were a few squeaks of alarm and surprise from people hiding behind their seats. An entire second passed before a cut welled up blood on Satan's cheek and trickled down his chin. His black eyes sparked with a concoction mild amusement and hatred.

He took the gun and fired. In a panic, I swung the sword, and sliced the bullet in half. My eyes widened. Lucky... Because I don't know what the fuck I am doing... He looked unimpressed as he attempted to find a new angle, firing two at once. I made a shield of air that they ricocheted off off, and he curled his lip in disgust. He captured the bullets in midair and then dropped them near to the woman's body.

"Obviously, guns don't work on you. Will illusions?" Satan smirked.

I grit my teeth, remembering the image of Mary's false death. I was not going to go through that again. My eyes passed over Oliver, who was brushing himself off, and Satan, who was inching nearer to me.

"Or... Maybe your mind is weaker than that?" he asked. "Maybe all we must do is talk..."

I put my blade in front of myself in warning, but he kept coming.

"Who is to say we won't kill her, huh? You know who I'm talking about... The little bitch who won't stop screaming, 'Emma, Emma, come save me!' Annoying, really."

I took a step back. "Shut up! You're doing a horrible job at this, you know!" He kept inching even closer.

"Oh? But she won't quit talking about you. She keeps humming music from that one band you like. What is it? Metallica?"

My blood ran cold. "Gary knows I love that band. This could be his words! I wear a Metallica tee to his class every day!"

"Oh? She keeps humming The Unforgiven. Your favorite song, she says."

That, Gary didn't know. I took another step back, and he kept coming. I tried to slash my sword across his chest, but he caught it and tossed it aside.

"The funniest part about this, now that she remembers you, is that she won't put that memory to use. You are gone from her, forever. Both of you are to die alone, separately. Even if I was lying, you ill never get to see her again... Because..." He gripped my neck. I curled my fingers around his muscular hand, gagging. "You're going to die."

Suddenly, there was a spray of warmth across my face. His body went limp, and he slumped to the ground. I sucked in a huge breath, then turned to Oliver, who was standing behind the body with my sword in his hand. Blood dripped off the blade's edges, and Oliver's wide eyes found mine as he panted.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You didn't have to do that..."

He swiped the sword across his jacket to clean off the majority of blood. "Of course I did. You are a reckless girl." His strange tone wasn't at all scolding, like it should have been. "Still, I guess you helped a bit..."

Dillan glanced over the seat, purple eyes round. "Do you have a death wish?!"

I ignored him, pushing past Oliver. The deal was, being a team player was hard work. Especially after so long of being alone with only Mary. Besides, these were my fights.

Oliver sat beside me again, pulling me to his chest in an embrace. I had the urge to hit him, but didn't follow it. Instead, I wondered how the Hell the conductor wasn't dead.

The picture is a cover that KingLoloBear made.

Sorry, guys, but the story will be on hold for a while. I don't exactly feel like writing... Something has kind of come up in my life and I won't be able to write for a while... Still, it'd be great if you would comment and tell me if you enjoy the story so far and vote.