One and a Half

"I mean, they've tried to find it, because of what class he is, it's dangerous, you know? A horn from that class! But no, it's gone!" She rubs her chin as if thinking hard, but she's too smart to ever need that. Kimle only stares at her, wide-eyed. His horn is still in her body, isn't it? She's never heard about a dissolving horn before. Her head starts to ache at the thought of it.

"Okay," she tries to gather her thought for just a moment. "What class is that?"

"Oh, I think they said that he was a deserter from the first wave of the war. Specially engineered for the job of hunting those dirty rats. Kind of funny and ironic how he ended up falling in love with one of them, isn't it?" Her mentor giggles at her little joke, and the student nervously joins in. His father was one of those beasts? She'd really like a thorough check of her blood right there and then, but first:

"I need to talk to him." Her mentor nods and with a faint, confused smile, she continues to lead her student. She's talking the whole time, asking questions about the hunts and the situation at home. All she has to do is nod and grunt at the right times to keep the older woman satisfied. It was like that in her training too, and the follow-ups after her work began. No, now's not the time to reminisce. The holding cells are rarely used for demons, not after the war. The entire headquarter was built by humans after the first attack, and many of her sisters and brothers, mostly soldiers, ended their lives here. Now it's only used for high-level survivors, leaders of gangs and such. They must think he's some kind of special if they're willing to waste resources on him. Halflings aren't exactly rare. If any demon or human decides they're willing to risk it, it's not hard to make one. Usually, they turn up at headquarter's doorstep by the time their horns start to form. Then they're properly taken care of, as they should be.

The facility is three floors below ground, and security's not as high as it were when demons were held here. Humans brought here know they'll not reach the outside alive, and they've chosen not to fight as hard. Probably because of the little bit of 'luxurious' resources wasted on them. And their succubi guardians. Her mentor is a rare case, who decided to be the one who puts them in here, instead of having them glare at her all day. Suddenly, the thought of what kind of halfling horn is circling through her veins makes her nauseous. Her mentor watches her lean against the wall and gag for a few seconds before moving on. They're nearly at the entrance, and even if she'd wanted to back off, she's interested in seeing how he's doing. She wants to know what they're doing with him. If it's about the gang he fought, she thought someone else handled that. Maybe not.

One of her mentor's sister, a beauty even for her kind, takes over the escorting as soon as they're in the corridor with the cells. They're both the chatty kind, and she's left to just keep up with them. Peeking into most of the cells, she feels a jolt of surprise at how many are empty. A ragged male or female in every third cell. More men than women. She's counted a total of eleven captured survivors by the time they reach the end of the hallway. Miss Mentor's friend opens the door with a special key card. There shouldn't be a lot of cells all the way back here.

The space they enter is in the shape of a triangle, with a floor-to-ceiling window on each side that's not the wall with the entrance. Only one of them is occupied. She knows this must be where they kept the real fighters back in the day, but seeing it in use, it feels ... wrong. The halfling's in there. His cell is also a triangle, and he's slumped against the inner corner, as far away from the glass as possible. At first glance, he looks so much like a full-fledged demon that her heart nearly jumps out of her chest. His eyes find her immediately, and there's nothing in them. The fire is gone, not a trace of despair, nothing, not even any pain, although the broken horn must still be hurting. She's looking at a shell. His one and a half horn look pure black in the fluorescent light. She grabs her side when it suddenly hurts again. Her throat dries up.

"Can he hear me?" she asks without taking her eyes off him, cutting into their conversation. The prison guard happily takes the duty of answering.

"Of course. We've tried to use a couple of our spells on him, but of course, with our luck, he's immune to nearly all of them. Isn't that partly because of the class he is?" That last question is more for her mentor, and they return to their pointless chatting. What's it about, knitting with tendons? She sighs and shakes her head.

"Would it be possible to get a minute or two alone?" The two older demons stop mid-sentence and exchange an odd look. Don't they trust her? She places a hand over her heart and sobers her face, "In the name of our Mother, I promise not to kill him," That's not her job anymore, in any case. They seem satisfied with this answer and leave. The guard tells her to just knock on the door as soon as she's done. She can still hear them chatting away, right outside the door, but as long as she keeps her voice low, they're not going to hear what comes next. With a clawed finger, she taps on the glass. The halfling's head twitches, but other than that she has no indication that she's got his attention.

Her headache and nausea reach a high point, and she places a hand on the glass to keep herself from collapsing. This makes him look up, and rise from his slump. Something's wrong about the way he looks at her, is he amused? It only makes her condition worse. She shivers and grabs her stomach with the other hand. In her haze, she doesn't realize that he's moved until he's standing right in front of her and places his hand on the glass on the other side of hers. As soon as she notices, she pulls away, and he grins, his face twisting like a mask on a doll. It gives her goosebumps and she looks away so she doesn't throw up, her body is really fighting whatever poison his horns are made of.

"You can hear me too, can't you?" he asks in a raspy voice. It's nothing like the way he talked in their fight. This voice is darker, hoarser, and doing something to her, something resonates in her. She wants to hear him say something again. It must be the halfling genes that are floating through her blood, it's not natural. That's could, in fact, be what brought her there, what made her want to see him. Right now, she doesn't even know what to say, and there was no reason for the other two women to leave them alone. She's never felt this way before, and she thought she never would, that it wasn't possible. No wonder her body's fighting so hard against it. It's not fair, to force her into it in this way. She sinks to her knees, head spinning and a stabbing pain in her side. On the other side of the glass, he squats to get his head on the same level as hers. He's still smiling, an eerie look on someone whose face is otherwise void of emotion.

"Where's my horn?" he snarls, lips pulled back to bare a set of fangs. In a split second his face goes from tranquil and smooth to pure fury. He bangs his fist on the glass, startling her before the real shock sets in.

"You don't know what you've done?" As soon as she opens her mouth, his behavior changes. His face goes pale, and there's pure fear in his eyes. He falls back on his ass, crawling away on all fours with a horrified expression. It must be the same face that she's showing. A thing her mentor told her once when asked why she didn't want to do the plentiful low profile hunts, come to her. A succubi's spells will not work on someone who's already the victim of real love. She needs to get this halfling horn out of her system, fast.