First rule of Demonic

You do not speak Demonic.

When tracking down a demon, time wasn't your biggest problem. They were brilliant hunters. If they left a mark behind them, any sort of a clue, they did it on purpose. Each step and each glance can lead you into a trap. Once the symbols fully aligned, once you saw them, it was too late to do anything about the outcome. You, the tiny fly, had set off a signal to the big scary monster at the center of the web, that it's time to feast. That's what you need to prepare yourself for. If you have to deal with demons, luck has long left you with no intention of ever coming back. Fail to notice the tendrils reaching out for your soul and you'll soon stop worrying about everything altogether.

Dora took in a deep breath and mentally prepared herself for the crime scene. With the chalk at her ready, she pushed the door open and was greeted with the smell of freshly spilled blood. Ah. It will be this kind of a crime scene. Dora knew Chorut was a nasty piece of work, she's been going after him for nearly a month now, but there is always a tiny part of you that hoped that this time, it would be different.

She knew she needed to work quick, but the gore surrounding her was too much to bare at once. It seemed there was no surface left untouched with crimson, but so far, no bodies were in sight. That was a first. Still, her stomach was strongly protesting about her decision to venture further in.

This part of the dance was always risky, but then again, you did not become a demon slayer because you wanted a nice retirement in the countryside. Step number one was no quick glances about your surroundings. It's better to risk being harmed by other looters and stray mortals than accidentally coming across a symbol that would transport each of your limbs to another dimension. When dangerous magic was about, you had to rely on your other senses. Sight was too easy to attack. And demon sigils worked quick and dirty. Dora's hearing confirmed that she was here alone. Her smell told her she definitely didn't want to be here alone though, but there'll be plenty of time to regret this later.

Step two was to stick your gloved hands into the biggest pile of mush - try your best to ignore the squishy bits - and begin smudging. It's a lot faster than if you would try to erase and clean the demonic writings. Just cover them up and be done with it. And it really wasn't the fresh blood that should concern you anyways, there is usually very little you can do for the victims of demon attacks. Your task is to look for the dark parts, because the blood used on symbols dried the fastest. Killing always comes after. Who would have guessed that the demons prefer to 'talk' first.

Commands were the words you had to look out for in the beginning. The most common of all demon symbols, they tend to be rather small, divided between two different surfaces and kind of look like someone drew a very sinister raindrop. There is the semi-circle in the southern quarter, spike or two at the top, sometimes stretching high up and ending with a flourish. Chorut liked those. Do not be afraid, said a mark spread across two wooden boxes. That's how he lured you in. Dora could recognise it well by now and ran her bloodied fingers across, smearing every even vaguely oval shaped thing she noticed.

She followed the tips of the symbols further into the warehouse, leaving a trail of bright red palm prints behind her and most importantly - a clean escape route. They softly glimmered in the orange light that was coming into the room. The sun must be setting by now. She needed to work faster.

Next came the attacks and this place wasn't an exception. Bigger and definitely meaner, those guys look liked cuneiform if it wasn't pressed into clay boards but clawed into the very fabric of reality by some wild beast. Which it kind of was. Attacks were very difficult to describe academically as their lines intersected a lot, creating web-like patterns almost. But Dora knew Chorut liked disembowelment and those marks had four, really sharp lines in the eastern quarter. She found some, but there were others, bigger, sprawling across the boxes, the walls, the wooden supports. Some possibly stretched for more then two meters, but Dora had no intention to measure it precisely.

She was methodical in her approach, scouring the space around her inch by inch and slowly working her way in the center, disarming the writings as she went. Judging from the direction and placement of most marks, it seemed that Chorut wanted to get to a certain place here, like he was looking for something specific. Burns, cuts, acid, disease... there were so many. It looked as if the demon went all out, using every single weapon, every little spell he had at his disposal. She was crawling on her knees by now, not risking looking too far ahead and just focusing on her immediate surroundings, keeping her head down, clearing the floor as best as she could.

It was when she was getting rid of a word that was able to turn your insides into outsides and flip your skin around when she noticed a gate on the wall. Star shaped, like those pentagrams you see in any book about the occult. Gates were the only demonic words (somewhat) safe to look at and therefore the most thoroughly documented ones. These marks are considered to be passive words, because they require a key, a spoken phrase if you will, to activate them. Problem was, that no one, apart from demons, was able to speak it. So unless you were possessed or had demon blood running in your veins, they would bring nothing but trouble to your doorstep. For a long time, mages didn't even believe spoken demonic existed. It was thought that all those screams and screeches and gurgles and growls are just that. To be fair, demonic is not really used for communication. It's used to force you to do things. To obey without a choice.

What more, this gate was left unfinished. Dora knew it well. It was missing an eye in its center. It was the very first piece of demonic she has ever learnt. It is true that no mortal is able to learn spoken demonic, because our vocal cords are simply not meant to deliver such ear-piercing sounds. But there are certain circumstances that allow you to mimic it, to learn a word or two. Her master had to break four of her ribs to teach Dora how to hit just the right pitch for this to work.

She stretched out her hand and lightly touched the place where the missing lines should be with her finger. That's when it hit her. All these attacks were supposed to buy Chorut time. He was the one who did not want to be afraid. He was running away. Why else would a demon paint a mark for escape?

Dora immediately stood up and reached into a pocket in her long coat. It's not like she could ruin her clothes any more than she already did, even thought the fact that she had Chorut's blood all over her and not human one, did improve her mood a little. She pulled out a broken hand held mirror with it's glass thoroughly cracked and looked behind her.

There is yet another kind of demon symbols you should be aware of, although they are usually the very last things you will ever see, should you come across one. It's their names. This one glowed like molten lava, like something cut into the earth and let it bleed out. Dora shivered as she tried to memorise some of the pieces she saw in the broken glass. The name was scrawled above the main entrance into the warehouse, from one end of the wall to the other. She needs to get out. She needs to get out now. And as she lowered her hand she noticed something else in the reflection. A barrel of a gun.

"My, my, isn't this the fourth crime scene you 'stumbled into', Miss Ravencroft?"

This was a set up and she walked right into it.

She forced herself to smile as she heard the heavy footsteps of the other officers storming into the room. Her voice needed to remain calm and perfectly leveled. Someone out there definitely didn't want her to leave this room alive. This meant she was getting close.

"Inspector Corden," she replied and left the one hand with the mirror in the air but no longer looked into it. She knew what was about to happen. And with her right hand, she touched the wall in front of her once again.

"Hands where I can see them, Miss. And turn around. Slowly. No funny business."

This time she chuckled out loud. That was it. She needed to provoke him. "Fourth one? Oh, do try to keep up, inspector. I though you are supposed to be good at this work. Or does the governor pay you for your pretty face? You know what they say about him."

If there is one thing Dora knew about the inspector, it was his quick temper and his hatred for anything magical. Something they had in common, in fact. She just prayed he was a decent shot and wouldn't miss. She closed her eyes and began to turn.

"Shut up and turn around. This is the last warning."

Dora kept her eyes closed and tried to recall the voice of her teacher. If you want to speak demonic, you need to feel the sound in every fiber of your body. Not just in your throat and mouth, but deep in your blood and your bones. It's not about the melody, the accent or the rhythm. It's about that one moment between your heartbeats, when you force your soul to scream. The key for escape is Kaeen. Never forget it.

"Or what? You couldn't shoot a target even if it was in front of your nose and begged for it. Is that why you brought all your men here? Because you can't shoot straight?"

And that was all it took. She heard a click, a bang and then sharp heat began to spread from her shoulder.

This should have been the end of it. They promised. She should have just slumped onto the floor and there should be one less witch in this damn world to deal with. Instead, inspector Corden watched her recoil from the impact of the bullet, her back hit the wall behind her with a thump as she opened her mouth to scream. He has never heard such a sound before and had to fight the urge to cover his ears, had to fight the urge to go down onto the floor himself and curl into a ball. His gun wavered in the air. He could have sworn the stonework behind that bloody woman hugged her and pulled her in. This was when his knees gave up.

And just like that. She vanished. There were no signs of her on the other side of the wall.