Poison had learned to be patient. It was a natural trait for her kind. Daemons were ambush predators for the most part. They hunted prey and they struck. They felt hunger and they killed. The concept of waiting, of planning, of delayed satisfaction, was as natural to most daemons as pride or rage. Poison was like most daemons but at the same time quite different.
She sat in the back office of one of her gang's warehouses, long legs crossed, emerald eyes scanning the financial reports Ethan had prepared. The numbers were good. Better than good, actually. Their criminal enterprise had grown beyond anything she'd imagined when she first started organizing humans to work alongside her. Heists, protection rackets, the occasional contract killing, all of it funneling money into an organization that answered to her.
"The Riverside job netted us another two hundred thousand," Ethan said from his position near the door. He looked as unkempt as always, barely-grown beard, dark circles under his eyes, clothes that hadn't seen an iron in weeks. But his mind was sharp when he bothered to use it. "After we pay out the crew and launder it through the security company, we're looking at maybe one-forty clear."
"Acceptable." Poison didn't look up from the reports. "What about the expansion into the eastern districts?"
"Still working on it. The Vipers have that territory locked down pretty tight. Might need to make an example of someone before they take us seriously."
"Then make an example. I don't care who."
Ethan nodded, scribbling something in the notebook he always carried nowadays. Poison watched him from the corner of her eye, a familiar mix of disgust and something else stirring in her chest. He was useful, this human. More useful than she'd expected when she first claimed him as her slave. His organizational skills, his understanding of human systems and weaknesses, his ability to manage the mundane aspects of running a criminal empire, all of it had proven valuable. And yet he was still human. Still prey. Still a creature that should be nothing more than food to her.
The fact that she hadn't eaten him yet was... troubling.
"Anything else?" she asked, pushing the thought aside.
"Yeah, actually." Ethan pulled out his phone, scrolling through something. "You know that fighter you hate? Zoey Winters?"
Poison's entire body went still. The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.
"What about her?"
"She's been gone for like three weeks now. No social media posts, no public appearances, missed a couple of scheduled events. Her fans are going crazy trying to figure out where she went." Ethan showed her the phone screen, displaying a fan forum filled with speculation. "Some people think she's injured. Others think she's doing some secret training camp thing. A few weirdos are convinced she got kidnapped by aliens."
Poison took the phone from his hand, her claws careful not to scratch the screen. She scrolled through the posts, her mind racing. Three weeks. Zoey Winters had been gone for three weeks. The shadow in her magji shard pulsed, as if reminding her of its presence. That insufferable weight that had been blocking her evolution ever since her humiliating defeat at that human's hands. She could feel it now, heavy and suffocating, a constant reminder of her failure.
"Find out everything you can about her," Poison said quietly.
"Uh, okay? Like what specifically?"
"Everything." Poison's eyes never left the phone. "Her family. Her home. Her routines. I want to know every detail of her pathetic human life."
Ethan stared at her for a moment, then shrugged. "I mean, she's pretty famous. Most of that stuff is probably public record. Give me a few hours."
"You have until tonight."
…
The research was easier than Poison expected. Zoey Winters was a public figure, arguably one of the most famous young fighters in the country. Her rise from obscurity to dominance in the YFTL had been extensively documented by sports journalists, fan sites, and social media accounts. And with fame came exposure.
"Okay, so." Ethan spread several printed pages across the table, along with his laptop showing various browser tabs. "Zoey Winters, eighteen years old, lives with her family in a suburb on the east side of the city. Mother is Alicia Winters, works as a janitor at a firm downtown. Stepfather is Bruce Murphy, works at a data software company, a different company but also downtown. Younger brother is Everett Winters, thirteen, attends Roosevelt High School."
Poison studied the family photos Ethan had pulled from social media. The mother was homely in a boring human way, caring, put-together. The stepfather was thin and slim, the kind of human who looked rather tasty. The brother was muscular, handsome, with the soft look of someone who'd never experienced real struggle. And there, in the center of every family photo, was her. Zoey Winters. The Devil. The human who had nearly killed her and cast a shadow over her very existence.
"The house is in a nice neighborhood," Ethan continued. "Not rich-rich, but comfortable. Two stories, small yard, attached garage. I found the address through property records."
"Show me."
They drove past the house that night, Jinx curled around Poison's neck like a furry white scarf. The small fox daemon's eyes glowed faintly in the darkness as they observed. The house looked ordinary. Unremarkable. The kind of place a million other human families lived in. But Poison's senses told her something was wrong.
"There's magji here," she murmured.
"What?" Ethan squinted at the house. "Looks normal to me."
"You wouldn't be able to sense it. But the house is protected." Poison's eyes narrowed behind her glasses.
"So... we can't just walk in and grab them?"
"Not without alerting whoever set those protections." Poison drummed her claws against the car's armrest, leaving small gouges in the leather.
"Who?"
"I wish I knew."
"So what do we do?"
"The protections are on the house. The property." Poison's smile widened. "But her family doesn't stay in the house all day, do they?"
…
The next week was spent watching. Poison was patient. She had learned to be patient. And now that patience would finally pay off. Her human gang members took shifts observing the Winters family, reporting back with meticulous detail. The mother left for work at 7:30 AM every weekday, driving a silver sedan to her firm downtown. The stepfather left earlier, around 6:45 AM, taking his car to his company. The brother left for school at 7:15 AM, walking the six blocks to Roosevelt High. Walking. Alone. For six blocks.
"The brother has a girlfriend," one of her scouts reported. "Some rich girl who goes to the same school. She's got bodyguards and shit, serious ones. They're together basically all day once he gets to school."
"But not before he gets to school," Poison noted.
"Right. He walks alone. The parents drive alone. For about fifteen to twenty minutes each morning, all three of them are completely vulnerable."
Poison studied the map she'd had Ethan prepare, marking the routes each family member took. The mother's commute. The stepfather's commute. The brother's walk to school. Three targets. Three windows of vulnerability.
"We take them all at once," Poison decided. "Same morning. Simultaneously."
"That's gonna require coordination," Ethan said, frowning at the map. "We'd need three separate teams hitting three separate locations at the exact same time."
"Then coordinate it."
"And what about after? Where do we take them?"
Poison considered the question. They needed somewhere secure, somewhere the magjistars wouldn't think to look, somewhere she could wait for Zoey Winters to return home and find her family missing.
"The old meatpacking plant," she said. "The one we acquired last month. It's isolated, it's ours, and it has enough space to hold prisoners."
"That place is a dump."
"Then clean it up. I want it ready within three days."
Ethan sighed but nodded. He knew better than to argue when Poison used that tone. Jinx stirred on Poison's shoulder, the small white fox lifting her head. "The magjistar community-"
"Is bloated and slow. If they mobilize, I'll have what I want." Poison's emerald eyes glittered with anticipation. "Zoey Winters took everything from me. My pride. My potential. My future. It's only fair that I take everything from her in return."
…
The morning of the operation was cold and gray, the kind of dreary day that kept most people indoors. Perfect conditions for a kidnapping. Poison positioned herself personally for the brother's capture. The mother and stepfather would be handled by her human crews, competent enough to grab two unsuspecting civilians, especially with the element of surprise. But Everett Winters was the one who would be hardest to secure before reaching protection.
That rich girlfriend of his. The Sinclair girl. Poison had done her research on Elizabeth Sinclair. Next in line to lead one of the most powerful magjistar families in the region. Trained since childhood by skilled practitioners. If Everett reached the school, reached her, the entire operation would be compromised. So Poison waited in an alley three blocks from the Winters home, hidden in shadows, Jinx ready to open a portal at a moment's notice.
Her phone buzzed. A text from Ethan:
*Mother acquired. She fought back but no serious complications.* A minute later, another buzz:
*Stepfather acquired. No complications.*
Poison smiled. Two down. And there he was. Everett Winters walked down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, earbuds in, completely oblivious to the world around him. He was humming something under his breath, occasionally checking his phone. Probably texting that girlfriend of his. How pathetically unaware humans could be. Poison moved.
One moment she was in the shadows. The next, she was directly in front of him, her hand clamping over his mouth before he could scream. His eyes went wide with terror as he saw her, the green hair, the glasses, the inhuman gleam in her emerald eyes.
"Hello, little devil," Poison purred. "I have some questions about your sister."
Everett tried to struggle, tried to break free. He even threw a punch that might have impressed Poison if it had come from anyone else. But against a Second-Grade daemon, a human teenager's resistance was meaningless. Jinx opened a portal behind them, a swirling vortex of displaced space.
"Don't worry," Poison said as she dragged him through. "You'll see your family soon. And then we'll all wait together for Zoey to come home." The portal closed behind them, leaving nothing but an empty sidewalk and a pair of fallen earbuds.
…
The meatpacking plant had been transformed. Not into anything comfortable, of course. Poison had no interest in making her hostagess feel at ease. But it was functional now, clean enough to occupy, secure enough to hold three terrified humans, and isolated enough that no one would hear them scream. Alicia Winters sat against one wall, her work attire rumpled and dirty, her eyes red from crying and rage. Bruce Murphy was beside her with Everett Winters huddled between them.
Poison circled them slowly, savoring the moment.
"Do you know why you're here?" she asked.
Bruce spoke up with a gulp. "I can probably imagine..."
Poison crouched down to his level, her face inches from his. "I'm going to use you to destroy the person you love most in this world. Your daughter. Your stepdaughter. Whatever she is to you."
"Zoey will kill you," Alicia whispered. Her voice was hoarse, broken. "When she finds out what you've done-"
"Oh, I'm counting on her finding out." Poison stood, spreading her arms wide. "That's the entire point. She'll come rushing home the moment she learns her precious family is in danger. And when she does..." Her claws extended to their full length, gleaming under the industrial lights. "She'll find me waiting."
"You don't know what you're dealing with," Everett responded. "Zoey's a magjistar. It's her job to deal with monsters like you."
"I know exactly what she is." Poison's voice dropped, all pretense of playfulness vanishing. "I know better than anyone. She nearly killed me once. Humiliated me. Cast a shadow over my very existence that I've been unable to escape for far longer than any daemon should." She leaned close to Everett's face, her emerald eyes burning with barely contained hatred. "But that ends now. One way or another, this ends now." She straightened and walked to the window, looking out at the gray sky.
"Jinx. Is the message prepared?"
The small white fox hopped onto a nearby crate, her tails swishing. "Ready to send the moment you give the word."
"Good." Poison clasped her hands behind her back. "Now we wait. She'll return home eventually. And when she does..." She smiled, imagining Zoey's face when she saw the video. The horror. The rage. The desperation.
"Welcome home, Zoey," Poison whispered to the empty air. "I've been waiting for you."