The Dark Firm

Meet Zagon:

Species – Demon

Hair color – black

Eye color – blue

Age - 21

Date of birth – 31 October

Star sign – Scorpio

Favorite color – black

Height – 191 cm

TDF = The Dark Firm

***POV – Zagon

I quickly glance over the letter for probably the millionth time since it appeared in a flash of blue light on my 21st birthday; just a single paragraph in fluid manly handwriting.

Zagon,

The time has come for you to know that I’m your biological father. You are born with the mark – the chosen one. Soon, you will learn more about the prophecy and your destiny.

But first, you have to trust fate to lead you on the right path and find the girl with the blue moon tattoo.

Your dad,

Apollyon Nox.

PS – if you need to contact me leave red flowers on your mom’s grave.

Needless to say, I was shocked to my core after reading that, and rather confused, torn between believing it or not. I mean, the whole thing is just strange – a prophecy … yeh … never heard of it, neither has Luan or Marrok. And a path of fate? A tattoed girl? I don’t believe in any of that shit.

And it’s rather a far stretch to believe Apollyon Nox is my dad. Thee Apollyon Nox, previous Demonant and famous serial killer psychopath – the man that almost destroyed Creperum. And nobody rumors say he’s been dead for years. So this letter must be a lie, a hoax, why should I believe he’s my dad? And even if he is my father I want nothing to do with him, his prophecy, or any of the destiny shit.

The elevator stops and I quickly stuff the letter back into my pocket.

The silver metal doors of the elevator silently close behind me as soon as I step out onto the 13th floor of the building. The high-rise building is magnificently modern from the outside, mainly consisting of metal and glass, but the inside is what’s really breathtaking.

I half expected a dark, cold, and strict office interior, but it’s nothing like that. Instead, contemporary workspaces are arranged in airy groups amid neutral-toned wood décor, brightly colored lounging areas, expansive windows, and soaring ceilings.

Picturesque views of a rocky mountain, flowing into the deep-blue ocean fill the floor-to-ceiling windows almost like a painting, while spicy cinnamon and rich coffee ride the air.

My eyes fall on the 100-inch surface hub filling most of the wall opposite the elevators. A Colorful map of Creperum is displayed on the white screen, showing each kingdom, its ruler, climate, and population stats. The numbers seem to update themselves the whole time, probably adding each new birth while subtracting each death.

I notice a few more species listed than the ones I encountered so far, but I’ve gotten to know the majority of them pretty well during my global travels and I’m rather the species expert by now – even if I have to say so myself.

Each species has its own distinctive qualities, like a specific smell or unique features like pointy ears or skin color. For example, demons smell like peppermint, wolves have a wild musky scent, while vampires have an odor of incense and blood and commoners smell sweet, like candy sugar and so on and so on.

I slowly walk over to the next hub with a detailed map of Earth, manifesting all the countries and cities as well as all the teleportation ports. Most big cities on Earth have at least one port, hidden safely from humans.

Yep, Earth is accessible to most creatures if you can obtain a chip and as long as you are not a threat or don’t reveal yourself or anything about our world to the humans. But humans can’t come to our planet. Hell, they don’t even know we exist. Although Earth is drifting idly through our sky, Creperum is not visible from Earth. That is because our ozone layer is much denser than their’s, blocking our planet from their sight.

“Ah, Zagon. You’re early. I’m Caspian.” An elf (I know this by the earthy smell, pointy ears, and blue eyes) pats me brotherly on the shoulder as if we’ve known each other for years.

“Let’s get you a cup of coffee before we start.”

He directs me through lots of cubicle-type workstations filled with focused office workers of all species. My presence seems to attract curiosity like a wave on a sports pavilion, but I ignore it, being rather used to drawing attention by now.

The coffee bar sprouts lots of greenery hanging in pots from both the wooden clad walls and ceiling. The yellow cup he places into the coffee machine fills up quickly with dark brown caffeine, followed by luscious steamed milk that marries completely with the strong espresso, and then it gets topped off with soft foam, like a fluffy cloud on a sunny day. He hands it to me, gesturing for me to sit down on one of the colorful high-chairs standing in a row along the bar.

I take a sip, the burning liquid cascading down my throat, the foam bubbles are so small and numerous they can’t be seen, but they can be felt on the palate – a texture like liquid velvet. This is heaven in a mug. I glance over at the machine, remembering the make and model – must get one of those at home.

The rustic zinc countertop hosts a large array of fresh fruit, pastries, and an array of other food for workers to pick and choose from. There is a row of glass-door fridges in the corner, each one filled to the brim with different things, like bottles of nectar or blood bags – the blood type clearly marked on each. They cater for every species’ appetite it seems – talk about the perfect work environment.

“Nice place you have here,” I need something to break the ice, still feeling highly uncomfortable. I hate not knowing what’s going on, what’s going to happen, or who I’m going to occupy a room with. Blame it on my upbringing – but I just don’t trust people - period.

“It’s not bad,” Caspian laughs.

“Why am I here?” The man on the phone didn’t say what the meeting was about, just that I needed to be here. I almost didn’t come, I hate being ordered around, especially if I’m left out on the details - but curiosity got the best of me.

I take another slow sip from my cup, the muffled sounds of silent conversations fill the spaces, people scattering around like ants, each on its own private mission, seemingly oblivious to their surroundings.

“All I know is that the Demonant wants to see you. Just wait here and I’ll go see if he’s ready,” he says, leaving me seated at the bar, before walking away.

The Demonant? The leader of The Dark Firm, and one of The Elders. I crash my thoughts, trying to find a reason why I’m sitting on this bar-chair in the most secretive building in the world, waiting for one of the rulers of Creperum to talk to me.

Maybe they found out about the letter. No, how could they? The letter arrived by magic, and we burned it – so unless they sent it I can’t see how they can know about it.

Maybe they want to hire us for a job; we are the best bounty hunters out there. It’s possible but it never happened before. Usually, they just send the jobs out on the net, they rarely request a personal hunt-down. And if they do, they just send an e-mail.

Ok, maybe they want to recruit me again. They’ve tried before, but the previous times a scout was sent to talk to me, they didn’t invite me to the building.

“Zagon, you can come through.” A busty commoner brunette, with a too-tight skirt and even tighter blouse, pouts from the door. I swear the buttons at the front of her shirt are going to strip any moment, given the force placed on them. Her eyes move over my form while she plays skillfully with her hair, she’s undoubtedly interested – most women are.

I let out a deep breath. Females are all the fucking same. Predictable beings flooding with sensitivity and heightened emotions, getting excited over the smallest romantic gesture that hooks them onto the hopeful deception of true love. Yeh, right, as if that even exists.

I wink at her and she licks her lips and flatters her eyes. Like I said, predictable. Girls act like naïve angelic virgins, but even the holiest angel becomes a sexual blob that will cry out in pleasure like an undercover whore, when you know the right moves. And after the night of pleasure, as if it’s supposed to mean something, they turn crazy praying-mantis-type stalkers that cling like ticks, never to let go until there's a commitment of some kind. That’s why I fuck them and leave them, avoiding the awkward uncomfortable morning after sessions.

She’s pretty enough, but I’m proud to say no girl has the power to turn my little buddy on, without me wanting it of course – it’s a matter of control over your body and I’ve become a master on the matter.

Even so, I’m extra selective when it comes to choosing a fuck-buddy. Somewhere out there is a girl, I, as sure as eggs are eggs, don’t want to run into.

I don’t know why the goddess created mates in the first place. I mean, it’s just a bunch of fake voodoo magic, like fate and believing in the universe. I’ve seen what marking a mate can do to a man and it’s not a pleasant sight.

But I’m not falling for the mate-bond shit - it’s not love, it’s an obsession. I mean, you can’t just look into someone’s eyes and WOOP suddenly you’re in love, willing to die for her. Nope, that whole thing is a fucked-up scam created by Selene to make us reproduce or something. So even if I find my mate I’ll never accept her, I won’t mark her, and I definitely won’t love her – I’m in control. But it doesn’t hurt to be careful, just in case.

The brunette opens a door and waits for me to walk in. I intensionally clip past her, letting my arm brush immodestly against her breasts. Her mouth drops slightly, and I start to count … one … two … three … and there’s the distinct smell of her arousal. It never takes more than 5 counts. I strip a smile, turning my back purposely to her. I got what I wanted.

Click! The door closes and I focus on my new surroundings, a large room with small workstations equipped with high-tech equipment along one wall, the other covered in bulletin boards and lots of screens, cozy clusters of sofas and chairs for more casual discussions are stacked in the one corner, a long conference table with comfortable chairs in the middle.

“Zagon, he’s waiting for you.” Caspian gestures towards the corner where the collection of soft furniture is huddled in an intimate group. Then he orders the other people to clear the room before leaving himself.