John the Demon Slayer

Book 1
Part 1

I stood on my balcony overlooking the Strip, watching the lights turn on one by one as the sun fell behind the mountains. I looked at the Strip, with it's bright, inviting lights, a gilded fa├žade hiding the darkness and blight that give Las Vegas the nickname of "Sin City". The city thrives on wickedness and immorality. And worst of all are the creatures behind it. For it is not humans that control and dominate the darkness of the world. There is a whole world of magic, of monsters, and of men hidden from the rest of the world. A world filled with wizards, faeries, vampires, and demons. All sorts of nasties thrive in the darkness of our world, and it is my job to fight them. I am the protector of the innocent, the guardian of mankind, the destroyer of shadows. My name is John. John the Demon Slayer.

Hello! I'm Jonathan, John's erstwhile apprentice. I don't know what story he was going to tell you, probably one of the times he marched into heck (I don't like saying the real name) and took on all the demon hordes. Or, it might have been one of the thirteen and a half times he saved the world. (Don't ask about the half, that one was just embarrasing.) But instead of listening to that, I will tell you about the time that me and John first encountered each other. Back before I knew anything of the secret world.
The dreams started when I was very little. I started seeing things in my dreams, and they would happen in real life. Sometimes it would happen the next day, and sometimes it would happen a few months later. For a while, sometime after my thirteenth birthday the dreams stopped. After a while, I began to think I was rid of them. But then, after the night of my fifteenth birthday, they returned with a vengeance. Every night I saw myself in the strangest of situations, but the most amazing part was not where I was or what others were doing, but what I was doing. In the dreams, I did things. Impossible things. At first I thought they were just dreams, but all that changed on the night of my sixteenth birthday.

As you can tell, I'm not the average person. I am a good six foot three in height, and rather thin. I have pale skin, my eyes are a bright blue, with golden rings in the center, and my hair is a golden blonde. I've been told that if I wasn't so skinny I'd be handsome. But my best trait is my intelligence and creativity. I'm the top of my class, and have written many amazing short stories and am working on a novel. But that doesn't have anything to do with this story. My birthday is on the thirteenth of october, and that year it happened to fall on a friday. My party lasted till midnight, and it was loads of fun. After my party I couldn't sleep, so I went out on a walk. In retrospect, walking around after the witching hour on friday the thirteenth was a pretty dumb idea, but what can I say? I'm a teenager!
I walked down the street, staring at the moon. I heard rustling in the bushes ahead of me, and crept toward them, not wanting to startle whatever was in there. I neared the bushes, but as I was about to jump at whatever was in in there, it jumped at me.
I flew backwards as the creature leapt at me. It was hideous, looking like some demented child of a giant bat, bigfoot, and a vat of toxic sludge. It was vaguely humanoid, about the size of a grown man, but the similarities ended there. Its body covered in leathery black skin, and the legs were bent backwards, like a goat, with long talons on its feet. Its arms were devoid of any substance, just skin and bones with frail wing membranes and long, razor-sharp claws. While most of the creature's body was cadaverous, its stomach bulged out grotesquely, as if filled with a vast amount of some liquid. Its face was reminiscent of a bat, with long ears, a flat nose, large, black, beady eyes, a long tongue dripping saliva, and long fangs, which were very visible as it opened its mouth more than should be possible, as the creature leaned in toward me.
I squirmed as much as I could, but despite being even thinner than me, (way thinner) it was immensely strong, and I could not break its hold. The creature seemed to be enjoying it, languishing in my helplessness. Just as its fangs were about to pierce my throat, I gave one last effort, putting all my strength, mental, physical, and spiritual, into breaking out. All of my energy came out at once, and the creature went flying twenty feet into a wall, demolishing it. Okay, I may not be the weakest person, but there is no way I could do that! I started to feel woozy, and as I rubbed my neck, I felt a coating of some liquid, and I remembered the creature's saliva. I begun to get dizzy, and a good feeling went through my body. What happened next was a blur, but this is what I think happened. The creature leapt out of the wreckage, reaching to tear my throat out. Bit at the time, that seemed just fine. I was feeling so good, why shouldn't I just let it rip my throat out? What's so wrong with that?
Just as it was going to tear me to shreds, a blast of painfully bright light struck the creature head on, disintegrating it on the spot. I frowned to myself, wondering what had happened. We were just about to enjoy ourselves. I looked over where the light had come from, and I saw him. He was nearly seven feet tall, with lightly tanned skin, dark hair, dark sunglasses covering his eyes, and a long black trench coat flapping in he breeze. He gripped a pure white staff nearly as tall as he was, its tip glowing with that same brilliant light.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"You look funny," I stated.
He examined my neck. "It got him with its saliva," he cursed under his breath.
"What's you're name? What was that? What are you talking about? Why do you dress so funny?" I asked in a rush, giggling.
"You were attacked by a vampire of the Red Court," he responded. "Their saliva is narcotic, and is the reason for your euphoria and, for lack of a better word, loopyness."
I shook my finger at him. " You didn't answer who you are or why you dress funny. That's very naughty."
"I do not dress funny!" he said angrily.
"What's your name?" I singsonged woozily.
"Fine," he muttered. "My name is John. John the Demon Slayer.