• Prologue
    Tony Carter, a thirteen year old boy rather small and frail despite his age with honey gold shoulder length wavy hair, pale skin, and sapphire eyes, trembled. Tears trickled down his face as he lowered the gun. His mother and father lay on the floor, their dead faces still twisted and distorted with fear and shock. Small holes in the middle of their foreheads trickled red blood. He dropped the gun, his hands trembling, and fell to his knees.
    “NO!” He howled. His body shook insanely, as though it had a mind of its’ own. He leaned over and clutched his stomach, his eyes bulging. He let out a grotesque gurgling sound and coughed up blood. He put his hand over his mouth and removed it and looked at the red smeared on his palm.
    “Wha....?” he choked, his voice trembling. His skin was turning a sickly shade of grey, and his blood started dripping from his nose in a small stream. He coughed again.
    Still more blood.
    “W-what is this....?” he looked at his blood, his parents’ corpses, and the gun he had used to kill them with in both horror and confusion. There was suddenly a loud crash outside the door. Knocking.
    “POLICE, OPEN THE DOOR!” Shouted a gruff voice on the other side.
    “N-no—” he coughed more blood, his nosebleed was also getting worse. “—its’ not safe for you! Run while you still can! P-please, I can’t hold it in much longer!!”
    “KID, THE NEIGHBORS REPORTED THE SOUND OF SCREAMS AND A GUNSHOT! OPEN THE DOOR OR ELSE WE’LL BREAK IT DOWN!”
    “GO! Please! I don’t want—”
    “ON THE COUNT OF THREE! ONE.....”
    “P-please....don’t....”
    “...TWO...”
    “...C-can’t...h-hold it...in...”
    “THREE!!!” The door flew open. Tony screamed, his arm moving against his will. It grabbed the gun and shot.
    It moved to fast for even Tony to see, but he heard the muffled gasps of the police officers as the bony hand of death silenced them. Tony moved swiftly, almost impossibly swift, starting to cry tears of crimson.
    “P-PLEASE......ARM....S-STOP...!!!!” He screamed as his legs raced him towards the police captain.
    No. Said a voice from within Tony that was not his own.
    Tony felt his fingers sink into the police captain’s windpipe. Saw the surprise on his face. Heard his cut-off cry echoing in the air. Smelled the scent of the man’s blood.
    The man let out a pitiful gurgle of red bubbles, his eyes rolled back into his skull, and he fell limp. Tony let out a scream of pain, his nose, eyes, and mouth gushing blood. He sunk to his knees, his arm twisting and writhing as though it was a worm.
    “GUH! UHN...!!!” Cried Tony, clutching his arm.
    Quit your whining, you’re making it harder for me. The unknown voice inside hissed. It was inside, but outside as well, like someone whispering into your ear.
    “STOP.....IT.....PLEASE....I-IT...HURTS....!!!” Cried Toby through gritted teeth and the taste of blood. He was about to scream again when his vocal cords suddenly shut down, as though he’d gone mute.
    I said be quiet, Tony.
    Tony opened and closed his mouth, still clutching his possessed arm. Finally, he heard a frightful crack from his arm and opened his mouth and eyes wide, as though to scream, but nothing came out but waves of crimson. He closed his mouth and stared at his arm in horror. His skin was bulging, and slowly, painfully, white, bloody points were breaking through his skin. In awe, he mouthed the word “horns?” as he watched long, clean white bones peel through his skin, covered in blood. Slowly, the blood slipped down the pure white blades of bone projecting from his arms and unto his skin. Upon touch, his skin reacted strangely to the blood. It started to turn blood red and looked like scars.
    Minutes later, the transformation was done. His left arm was dark red, wrinkled like scar tissue, with white bones sharp as knives projecting from his elbow, shoulder, and small, inch-long horns sprouting from his knuckles.
    Carefully, eyes wide, he examined his new arm.
    Well? Come on, what do you think of it? You’re the first host that has survived that. Something about the voice was filled with pride and smugness. Tony continued staring in awe, then thought: How am I not going to skewer myself with these horns?
    There was a silence on the mysterious-voice side, then, reluctantly, the voice replied: Don’t know and, honestly, don’t really care.
    Tony narrowed his sapphire eyes into slits.
    Quit complaining, Tony. Now, that was a satisfying kill, nice and dramatic. Oh, and here’s your voice back. Tony felt his vocal cords unlock. Tony suddenly fell into a daze, a breakdown of his mind, pitch-blackness in his head, locked inside was all despair. Tony began shuddering uncontrollably, tears once again cascading down his cheeks. Blood was still trickling from his nose, but he did not care. He scrambled over to his mother’s corpse and grabbed her cold hand in a vice-like grip with his new hand. He heard a crunching sound and felt the bones in his mother’s wrist break in his grip.
    And then, despair gripping him, he screamed. It was an inhuman scream, as though coming from the throat of a wild beast mortally wounded and trapped without any defense.
    Tony.
    He continued howling.
    Tony!
    Still more howling.
    TONY!!!! Boomed the voice. Tony went silent. He was still gripping his mother’s hand. Bloodstained, lightheaded, and tired, Tony put his head on his mother’s lap and cried himself to sleep.

    Chapter One
    Tony woke up to the distant rumble of thunder and the pitter-pattering of raindrops on the window. He opened his eyes drowsily, still half-asleep, not knowing where he was or what had happened, until.....
    Ugh, you’re finally awake. Its’ been torture, sitting around here with nobody to help plan out what to do today or who died most entertainingly last night. Groaned the voice. Tony said nothing.
    Tony? It inquired.
    “Yes...?” said Tony, but merely in a soft, sad whisper. The memories of the night were coming back.
    Are you aware of the fact that you’re laying in a corpse’s lap? Tony cried out and leapt to his feet.
    Okay, now that you’re up and about, let me introduce myself. I am a parasitic demon virus created in a lab by accident. My name is Krankheit von Satann, pleasure to meet you. It said.
    “The pleasure is all yours.....I’m unhappy to have met you, since you ruined my life.....” mumbled Tony, choking on held-back tears.
    Everyone dies eventually, Tony, unless, of course, you’re me. Somewhere in Krankheit von Satann’s voice, Tony thought he heard a smirk.
    Tony buried his face in his arms and muttered something.
    Pardon? Didn’t catch that.
    “.....Unforgivable git.” Said Tony, louder. Stunned silence on Krankheit von Satann’s side.
    Finally, Krankheit stammered: W-why, if I had hands, Lad, I’d spank you for saying that.
    “Shut your trap and leave me alone, you monster. You killed my parents and you’re happy about it!” muttered Tony, looking at his new arm. It was both admirable and hateful, with its’ long, razor sharp horns, polished white, and its’ red skin looked liked old blood.
    FINE!! SEE IF I CARE IF YOU GET BEATEN!! I WON’T COME BACK TO HELP TILL YOU APOLOGIZE, YOU LITTLE BRAT!!!!! After the outburst, all was quiet in Tony’s head, but not for long. For now questions and exclamations were appearing. But, Tony didn’t pay them any attention. He wasn’t staying in this Godforsaken place, and before leaving, he had to get cleaned up.
    He walked into his bedroom and got a few pairs of clean clothes and his backpack, then went into the bathroom to take a bath.

    Chapter Two
    Tony walked away from his old house, down the old street. He had, with some trouble, willed the horns to sink back into his skin a bit, which was exceedingly painful, and had gotten dressed. He was wearing a long-sleeved, clean whit shirt, a grey sweat jacket (he put the hood up, since it was cold and he didn’t want any neighbors to recognize him), black jeans, and grey sneakers. His backpack was rather heavy, and was slung over his shoulder.
    Its contents:
    1. Two more shirts and another jacket, another pair of jeans, socks.
    2. Toothbrush and two containers of toothpaste and three bottles of water.
    3. Books.
    4. The gun, so the police wouldn’t see his fingerprints and begin chasing him.
    5. Money and a Flashlight (with batteries, of course).
    6. Food.
    Tony was sure he had everything he needed, but it was still a tearful farewell to the home he was raised in. As he walked away, he took one last look at the large white Victorian, its’ front yard beautiful, even in the winter chill. Tony quickly averted his gaze elsewhere, so his old home would no longer sing its siren song to call him back. It was too full of miseries to go back to.
    He rounded the corner, not looking back. He knew that he would probably never return.
    Chapter Three
    Tony strode amongst other folk in the crowded streets and sidewalks of the Winter Market, which sold unusual plants and foods only good around winter. He looked around in amazement. Never had he seen so many people in one place, besides his birthday parties. He had never gone outside much in his life, being taught at home by tutors and his parents, the world seemed an unimportant place compared to his piano or dance lessons, his math and science instructions, and his painting and literary arts. His parents had told him he was simply too important to trifle himself with the world outside till he was a grown man and inherited his family’s business.
    I’ve defied my parents’ wishes, thought Tony with a sigh. Suddenly, someone ran into him and knocked him to the ground.
    “Ow!” he cried in a whining voice.
    “Watch where you’re going, you little boy!” snarled whoever had so rudely knocked him over. Tony was amazed. He never heard that people were so rude!
    Just as Tony was going to show whoever had knocked him down a piece of his mind and get up, a hand descended towards him. He looked up, alarmed.
    “Are you okay?” asked the girl in a thick German accent. Tony opened and closed his mouth. She was very tall and slender, definitely an athletic girl, with fiery red strait hair curled delicately at the ends, a deep, peach colored skin, and storm grey eyes with long eyelashes. She smiled at Tony reassuringly.
    “Come on,” she said, offering him her hand. “I’ll help you up.” Tony took her hand, and an electrical shock like lightning shot from his hand, to his head, then down to his toes. She pulled him to his feet. The crowd bustled around Tony and the girl, some people knocking into them.
    They were still holding hands and staring at each other like complete idiots, in the middle of the busy market. Tony’s heart was beating so hard and fast, he feared everyone could hear it. He nearly leapt into the air when she girl’s jean pocket started buzzing. She looked just as startled as Tony felt.
    Letting go of his hand, she fished in her pocket and retrieved a pink phone. She looked at the screen and flicked the phone open.
    “Ja?” she answered. “Es ist Sie, Vater. Ich bin in einigen, keine Sorgen Haupt.” she paused again, listening. She looked a bit frustrated now.
    “Nicht bin ich nicht an einer Partei!” She exclaimed. Then, another pause. She sighed.
    “Traurig, Vater. Ich bin in wann Haupt.” she hung up and looked at Tony sadly. “My father wants me to come home,” she explained.
    “Were you just speaking German?” asked Tony.
    “Yes.”
    “Ah.” Tony said ‘ah’ a little louder than expected, because just as he did, someone knocked into him. She smiled, waved a goodbye, and then walked off.
    She’s not the only German who wants to talk with you. Remarked Krankheit unhappily.
    “Oh, shut up,” muttered Tony.
    TO BE CONTINUED....