The Marked Hosts

They ate souls. The invisible savages lived underground, in subway tunnels. They attacked train passengers. Those signs, Do not lean on doors, took on a new meaning six years ago. Contessa Torain wasted years of her life in this humid hovel to convince humans to not blow up her world because of some rogue Brevia. Her world  had energy beings. Humans possessed bombs. She fought in enough wars. She wasn’t interested in finding out if humans or her people were better at killing.

Five years living in this world as a Brevia representative and she was beginning to wish for war. Fighting was easier than talking.

A muscular older male threw a little boy across the subway car. The small one was only fragile in size. His face, as he stared at the big lout, held impressive strength. Contessa felt a twinge in her spine.

He stood and dusted himself off as though he wasn’t just handled like some worthless stuffed doll. The muscled male balked at the child’s lack of fear. He covered his surprise under hatred.

“All freaks deserve to die.”

The male’s voice tried to coax Contessa’s hand around his throat. 

He grabbed the small one by the collar and slammed his back against the car doors. The little one stared with formidable eyes. His face held no indication he knew or even cared he was about to die. The male squeezed the little one’s collar. Everyone knew both were going to die. This time, people watched. They wanted the monsters to devour the small boy. Their desire to see him eaten became strength that weaved into the larger male’s resolve. He was a necessary sacrifice to kill the evil they believed the child possessed. 

The child wasn’t human. Everyone in the car somehow sensed it. They hated him for his otherworldliness. Contessa stood whenever she was on the train. Humans got mouthy when she sat too close. Eating anyone who annoyed her defeated the purpose of her job.

“When your superior speaks to you, you answer.”

Contessa snorted. What an appalling noise she just released. She was gathering some disgusting habits from humans, which was supposed to be impossible.

The muscles turned to her. She held his gaze. His mouth moved like a dying fish. Hatred flowed from his eyes and soured the humid air. Everyone looked at her. People squirmed. The older male turned back to the child. He had more brains than she thought.

He lifted his fist, brought it into the little one’s side. The child’s feet left the ground. The air rushed out of him with an unbecoming sound. The big one did it again. The child didn’t fight back. He didn’t alter his expression.

“Such a waste,” she said.

Contessa walked to the pair. She grabbed the big male by his neck and pulled him back. With her other hand, she threw the little one behind her. She pressed the older male to the doors. The muscles struggled. His strength was no match for hers. He squeezed a few foul words through his crushing windpipe. Contessa never understood why humans reduced themselves to using such boorish words to insult someone. Far better words could set fire to a person’s self-worth.