Chapter 1

Ten years have since past when he first arrived in the Golden Gate City, and Zemar is currently out at his favourite bar, the Beach Hut. It was the only place where he felt like himself, and kept him awake. Every night he's plagued with nightmares and is absolutely miserable because of it. Nightmares of blood and gore, it made him sick. He waved in a drunk like fashion to silently ask for another beer to be tossed his way as he slumped over the long bar table. The old oak has seen better days with cigarette burns across her face, scarring her beautiful chestnut colour. He stared into the golden liquid that was set in front and all he saw was a waste of space. He's just like a cigarette butt in the world, a Demon that was tossed aside, even stepped on like trash. He suffered abuse from people he called his family. Sure, they praised his successes but, then turned around and beat him to an inch of death when he failed. Good thing his bruises could heal within hours. He chugged the drink as it caused no ill effect because alcohol didn't affect his kind, but the strong, bitter taste brought some comfort. He swung around in his stool and envied the drunk happy crowd. Angels and their white ass wings, pranced around to loud, upbeat music with the mortals like they were all powerful while Demons were judged. It's not their fault they came from the fiery depths of Hell, to live in a place where evil souls go for eternal damnation. He took a deep breath of the musty air filled with stale beer and cigarette smoke along with other fluids. Being a regular, he'd gone nose blind to the repulsive stench and loud chatter of the small, popular area.

He lit a cigarette and singed his black fur every time he flicked the lighter. He breathed out a puff as he watched Demons and Angels co-mingle with the mortals as a frown took shape. It took The King of Hell years to achieve this goal and it was a stupid idea. The humans didn't treat Demons with the same respect as they did when the Angels first revealed themselves. They still don't, and Demons are the ones that get abused the most but, it's not like Satan cares. For 26 years he suffered hardship in his life, but the past ten years have been the worst.

"Hey, let me buy you a drink," a woman cooed while she approached from his right. Her eyes were red from lack of sleep as she pulled down her red cocktail dress to hide a growing bruise on her ass. His hidden nose crinkled from the smell of sex and alcohol.

"Not interested. Get lost whore," he insulted with another drag of the cigarette, he didn't even take a sideways glance as she sent icy glares before she stormed off. He may be a Demon and they're known to sin but, he wasn't some horny slut. He sighed before circling back to the bar and waved for another drink,

"You'd think the humans would make something stronger for us. It'd be good for business despite you being here every night," the bartender snickered when handing him another mug.

The thick glass was cold to the touch with condensation dripping down the side. The tender has four 3 inch, green horns that barely showed through his thick brown hair, he was something they'd call a half-breed.

"That'll be the day. They rarely give us fucking jobs so, why would they waste their precious fucking time and money making a stronger beer? Fucking racist bastards," he sneered before he took a big gulp of the bittersweet, golden liquid.

"Try being me. I had to hide my tail and trim my claws. I was lucky to even get this job with my horns. Thank Satan I took after my mother," the bartender sighed while he wiped a mug clean. Zemar chuckled at the comment,

"I wish I was as lucky as you, it's like I got the short end of the stick in life. My mother is always gone, and I don't see eye to eye with my fucking father. I'm always referred to as the 'second son' and they treat me like I'm not important. It's like they think I shouldn't even fucking exist," he growled and took another big swig. The bartender patted his back in condolences of his hard life before going back to work. Behind the bar table, rows of colorful liquids glow under the warm lights directly above the shelves, different liquor of every type. He had daydreamed of leaping over the table and guzzling them all in hopes of getting alcohol poisoning but, never had the energy. As he wallowed in misery, he didn't notice the hum of the bar had died down as people turn in for the night at around two in the morning. A few more hours of drowning in booze he left the business feeling a little better and headed towards the only home he had ever known.

Zemar strolled around a corner and sluggishly followed the fenced area. The sun began to rise in the distance, and with the little bit of light just starts to glint off the black iron fence poles. A perfect design on the top gave a sense of satisfaction to the repeating pattern even though the sharp spikes were deadly. The rough cement of the sidewalk was replaced with smooth, cream coloured tiles when he walked through the large black gates and a smile appeared in the corner of his mouth as he returned home. He gave his leather jacket a quick shake in the bush to get rid of dust and other stuff before he tossed it over his shoulder and entered the mansion. His boss didn't like dirty things being tracked into the house. Its clean white doors were silent when they opened and the scent of expensive perfume wafted to his hidden nose. He felt the soft air relax his fur, this was the closest thing he had to a home and a family since his last family kicked him out of Hell. He sauntered down the long hallway, the crimson carpet led the way as he rested his hands on the back of his large circular furry head, feeling safe. The large V shape of his muscular shoulders were more visible in the artificial light as his silky black fur shimmered. His 2 crimson, 10 inch bone horns that were slightly curled inwards with 2 points at the end moved with him as he gazed lazily to the right to look at the row of expensive paintings by famous artists. There was at least five million dollars worth of art just on this wall. He didn't understand the importance of collecting expensive objects, they were just pictures after all, the real world was much more beautiful when you look close enough.

Zemar inched closer to the doorway towards the main hall and underneath his fur, his hidden ears could hear a heated argument going on inside, it sounded more like a debate, which were not uncommon. About to turn the corner he heard his name and stopped in his tracks,

"Zemar is becoming uncontrollable! We need to get rid of him before those fucking pigs pin those murders on us," the fur on his neck raise in anger. His large eyes widen as they make his face seem smaller that it was. They can't get rid of him; Antonio would never allow it he thought.

"I understand your concerns Eric but, he's the only thing keeping the other gangs at bay. He's nothing more than a threat against them," a familiar old voice was barely heard from across the room,

"The others don't have to know. I could take him out back and shoot him like the fucking dog he is," Eric aimed a finger gun at Antonio with a smirk. He imagined himself blowing the brains out of the teenager. Antonio slowly stood from the chair, using his black, golden tipped cane to support his wobbly, old legs that are full of arthritis. He looked feeble with boney fingers and his face sunken in, brown eyes permanently squinted and hunched over. There was some sadness to his tone when he spoke,

"Zemar has been loyal to me for years. It's been a good three years... But, do what you must. If everyone believes he'll endanger our business, take him out," Antonio gave the order as Eric's grin grew.

Zemar dropped his jacket and nearly fell to the floor as he leaned against the smooth wall for support. He clutched his chest tightly from the sudden, heartbreaking betrayal he just heard. His dark maroon stripes stretched with every deep breath he took. Antonio, the man who rescued him from death and the closest he had to a father figure, just stabbed him in the back. He felt his guts being ripped out of his body when he realized he meant nothing to the old man and was just used as a tool. He wasn't squeamish but this, this caused his stomach to twist painfully into a knot as he held back the urge to vomit. What is he going to do? Where is he going to go? He can't go back to Hell and he has no other place to stay, he thought.

"I knew this was too good to be true... No human wants a Demon," he sighed and gathered up whatever pride he had left. If he was going to die, then he's going to take Eric and the rest of the Grimm Reapers with him.

Zemar dusted his black fur flat and put on a smile before he walked into view,

"Zemar my boy! How was your weekend?" Antonio smiled as he greeted with a welcoming hug around one leg. Zemar mustered up the best smile he had, his large mouth seemed to engulf half of his face, even the 2 stripes on his cheeks seemed to move away as his pearly white, knife like teeth became visible. They were so perfectly lined, no gaps in between that he had the definition of a perfect smile as he greeted in the same manner as always,

"Antonio, you look younger every day," he roughly patted the old man on the back. Nearly knocked the wind out of Antonio's weak lungs,

"Ha Ha Ha, you flatter me boy," Antonio chuckled. Eric stood behind them while adjusting his light brown locks,

"Oi Zemar, you up for a drink tonight? The boys and I are gonna grab a few and have a party in the Redwood forest. Rumors are it's haunted by a woman in red," Eric raised his eyebrows up and down as the universal sign of a sexy hint. His hazel eyes glint from the chandelier lights above them. Eric was a cool guy to hang out with but, from what he just heard, his outlook on the man changed and didn't trust hanging out anymore. But it's not like Eric could really harm him anyways.

"Sure, that sounds like fun," he smiled while holding back a menacing gaze from his icy blue eyes. They were so blue and unnatural in the Demon realm that they figured he was either blind or dead.

"Awesome! See you then bud, we'll meet up at the edge of the forest. Right by the largest tree marking the pathway in,"

"Yeah, yeah. I know the place. No need to explain where it is," he snickered and walked off towards his room.

Zemar couldn't stop pacing the perimeter of the confined space of the bedroom, he couldn't help but have some worry about what will happen tonight.

"Will they try to kill me with guns? Or knives?... I hate both. They're both a fucking pain to heal after," he mumbled as he paced, he decided that this was the best night to get out of the gang. He's been wanting out for awhile now but, didn't know how.

"I could kill them all but... If they think they killed me... then they won't come after me. I could be free of this life and start something new... Or I could just roll over and let them really kill me and this nightmare would end forever... Fuck! Why is this so hard... Why must I fucking be like this," he exhaled as he flopped stomach first on the king-sized bed and buried his face into the large pillow. It wasn't that hard of a decision, the obvious answer was to murder them before they had a chance to hurt him but, how could he kill the only mortals to take him in. They're his family. He groaned into his silky red pillow, tears welled up in his eyes unnoticed, crying wasn't something he did often. Or more accurately never, he hadn't cried since the first time he took someone's life. After a good few hours have gone by, he sat up from the bed, his mind finally made up. The whites of his eyes glowed red with a growl in his throat, he knew what had to happen.

That night was clear and only a tiny sliver of the moon was visible. The new moon was only last night, but it seemed so far away. His mind was blank but crowed as he flew through the sky on his mighty feathered wings. He was the only other Demon to have wings and his father always taught him to keep them hidden. He never really understood why, he was a royal. He glanced up at the stars, they were bright as they guided his way, and it only took a couple of hours before the huge Redwood forest came into view. The giant trees had a red tinge in the light of day and that's where it got its name from. Their leaves filled the canopy with dark green colours as he casted a shadow from high above. He circled the group of men down below by the entrance to the thick woods like a predatory hawk would do to its prey.

"Sup," he growled while landing just behind the group in the shade of the trees, scaring the shit out of them. Eric turned with a jump before he realized it was only Zemar,

"Fuck! Give a man a heart-attack won't you!" Eric chuckled nervously before he quickly held up a 24pack of Bud light,

"Now that everyone is here, let's get this party started, shall we!" Eric grinned broadly.

Zemar strolled behind the group, he couldn't help but wonder why Eric wanted to drive 4 hours just to have drinks here. It was suspiciously far out of the way, when San Francisco had plenty of other forests they could've gone to. It was probably easier to murder him here and get away with it, the forest was in a different state and if a body was dumped here, there'll be no leads to them. They walked a fair bit into the lush forest, the dirt path began to thin and the ground became damp from the moss flourishing under feet. The large trees thinned out to small, skinnier ones and bushes grew taller to take full advantage of the open area.

"Dude, where the fuck are we?" one of Eric's friends noticed the change from lush, tranquil forest scenery, to a foggy, chilling swamp,

"Remember when I told you about the lady in red? This is where most of the sightings were. Folks say she was murdered here by a past lover, drowned in this very pond," Eric explained in a creepy tone.

"Ghosts don't fucking exist," Zemar remarked while crossing his arms, being a Demon, he knew that such paranormal activities didn't manifest in this world or the next. When a mortal dies, they die. That's it. No returning to Earth to haunt the living, nothing except where their soul belongs.

"Pshh! Party pooper, you have no sense of adventure, no wonder in your life. Demon's are so boring, at least Angels would've gone along with it," Eric complained, Zemar growled at the mention of Angels. He hated those stuck-up bastards.

No other words were exchanged except the normal jokes and stories as they settled around a campfire by the eerie pond, chugging beer like it was water. 3 hours had gone by before Eric stood up with a beer held in the air,

"G-Guys, I have a t-toast for Zemar," Eric sputtered as he swayed a little. He averted his eyes in embarrassment of what might happen next,

"Z-Zemar has been part of the Grimm Reapers for a really long time and-and I think we should recognize his loyalty to our gang. I have prepared a s-special gift for ya bud!" Eric chortled when spilling some of his beer. He stayed frozen as he saw the others turn to look at him while Eric turned around to grab something from the small pack he brought with them. Zemar clenched his jaw and closed his eyes when he calmly took a sip of his beer after hearing the small click of a handgun aimed in his direction.

"Thanks for your loyalty Zemar, we'll miss you dearly," Eric sneered and pulled the trigger, the movement followed by a single echoed shot throughout the quiet forest, disturbing the peace as black birds flew every direction in a frenzy. Blood and brain matter splattered the bush, staining the green leaves with a deep red design as pink chunks slid off with a splat. The thick blood dripped onto the moss as it soaked up the liquid like it was parched and that was the only drink around. The huge, body leaned over and fell to the ground, making a squish as it landed in the bloody mud.

Everyone was silent and couldn't believe the Demon fell for their trap.

"Nice shot Eric! Right in the fucking head," one applauded as he examined the hole in the Demon's forehead, seeing right through the head,

"I knew he was too fucking stupid to figure it out. Demons are so trusting to Humans that it makes me fucking sick," Eric spat on the ground next to the black, furry body.

"This calls for a real celebration! Drinks are on me!"

"Now that sounds like a good fucking time,"

"First thing first, help me throw this corpse into the water. We can't have the fucking police snooping around," Eric ordered and grabbed the feet. It was a struggle to lift the heavy Demon but, they managed to throw the body into the water with a splash,

"Alrighty, let's go grab us some real beer!" Eric cheered, and led the way back towards the trucks.