Leighton Wray had always hated mornings. He hated the way his alarm clock bleated nauseatingly each morning at 5 sharp and the way his joints creaked when he hoisted himself up from his bed. He hated the way his coffee maker would take ten minutes to start up though it promised him his cup of Joe in only three and how his damned keys always seemed to misplace themselves.

Today was no different, this morning was just as horrid as the rest, Leighton thought as he meandered his way down the narrow halls of his workplace. This morning was perhaps worse than others, as he had been called in an hour early for some sort of urgent business. He hadn’t even read the case file yet and there was nothing Leighton hated more than being unprepared. Except, of course, mornings.

The portly man paused at a receptionist’s desk, only to be annoyed further by the fact the secretary was already busy on her mobile, chatting away. His sausage-like fingers began to thrum steadily against the granite countertop as he cleared his throat.

The secretary hesitated a moment before muttering a hasty goodbye and laying the phone down at her side.

“Good morning, Mr. Wray.”

Leighton harrumphed impatiently, the thrumming now stopped as his hand came up to stroke his waxed mustache methodically, “Yes, Yes. It is a morning, indeed. All formalities aside…Do you have the papers?”

The woman was hardly taken aback by her superiors brusque behavior- she had known Leighton for three years and he was still as impatient three years back as he was today. It was better to not take his abrupt behavior to heart, coworkers had warned, he wasn’t much of a people person until it came to election time.

“Yes sir, they’re right here.” She said with a smile, brandishing a rather ordinary tan folder that she had produced from a drawer.

“This is all of it?”

“Yes sir.”

“Ah, well…thank you then.”

Without another word Leighton ambled off again, leaving behind a bemused secretary. He thumbed through the pages of the folder as he walked, his brows raised at the bold heading.

“So this is what this is about? What a nuisance.” He muttered to himself, running his hand through what was left of his thinning hair.

He continued his way down the hall, coming to the very end. There stood a heavy oak door that creaked when it was pushed open. Leighton fumbled in to the dark room blindly, his hands groping along the walls. It was a few seconds before his hand connected with the switch. With a mechanical whir, the lights flickered to life.

Leighton heaved a great sigh. Maintenance has obviously ignored the room. A thick layer of dust had settled over the long meeting table and the chairs and was low clinging to every available surface.

He pulled free the chair from the head of the table and dusted its surface before taking a seat. Now the waiting game had begun.

Slowly and meticulously the room began to fill with people. First came an older woman, her salt and pepper hair pulled into a bun and a bald squat man with curiously bugged eyes. They sat next to one another in silence. Following after them came two more men with tight expressions and very similar looks, perhaps brothers or cousins, related by blood. Finally the last to enter was another younger. She was much younger then the first and by anyone mans standards, quite attractive. Her hair was long and ginger, falling to her tapered waistline. Her face and arms were dotted with light freckles and light green eyes flickered with interest behind darkly rimmed glasses.

“Now that we are all here, I suppose this meeting will be officially underway.” Leighton said sitting up and fixing his tie compulsively, “So then, If I’m reading the paper correctly, we have somewhat of a problem on our hands, don’t we?”

The stern older woman laughed, “Somewhat of a problem, Leighton? To call this problem little is an understatement. Do you realize the last time this happened was over 150 years ago? The results we’re not pretty. Families murdered and innocent lives lost…”

“Vivian, please.” One of the tight-faced men interrupted, “We know what happened. There’s no need to get so defensive.”

Vivian turned to give him a cold glare but thought better of it, relaxing her posture, “You’re right of course, Anthony. I jumped the gun. Forgive me.”

Anthony nodded his head in her direction, “It’s understandable. All of us are hard-pressed for a solution.”

This was clearly the case, Leighton thought as his eyes jumped face to face, noting each of their distinct but troubled expressions. That was, until he reached the young woman with the fiery hair. She seemed at ease. He frowned, wondering who exactly she was. He couldn’t recall if she was at the last meeting. His eyes locked with hers as she began to speak, her tone smooth and calculated. It was slightly unnerving to Leighton to see this young woman so composed, especially in a room filled with superiors at least double her age.

“I wouldn’t consider this problem so dire.” She stated coolly, ignoring the murmurs of disapproval it brought, “We’ve progressed since that time, or at least most of us have. Isn’t that so, Vivian?”

Vivian frowned, raising her eyebrows, irritated she had been singled out, “What are you implying, Miss…?” She trailed off, allowing the other woman to answer.

“Ashe. Quinlan Ashe.”

“Yes… well, Miss Ashe, the younger generations have developed their own views but I’m afraid they don’t understand how deep the differences between our species run.”

“Ignorance is no excuse for fear. We hardly have any information about the sub-race we call ‘demons’. Even the name we call them screams ignorance. I thought we had stopped believing in such things eons ago. A soul is a soul, despite its bodily form.”

“It’s merely a nickname. They’re barbaric creatures. I would hardly call them a sub-race of human souls.” Vivian countered, haughtiness clouding her tone, “Neither should you.”

Quinlan shrugged ever so slightly. ‘Demons’, as most of the people within the city knew them, we’re indeed a sub-race of human souls biologically. Certain characteristics set these souls apart and even altered the appearances of their physical selves. Demon souls we’re larger in stature then human souls, all of them well over 6 feet in height. Their eyes were much more animalistic in coloration, ranging from yellow to slate grey and their build much more predatory. They lived in traveling clans and often fought one another in a constant struggle for power.

The main difference that separated the two races, however, was no more than a matter of morality. All souls were created with a significant other to compliment them. No matter the body that soul inhabited, it would always find its partner. The bond between the two souls were said to be the strongest of all and generally the matching worked in the favor of these pairs.

The souls would be reborn into their physical forms at the same time (give or take a year or two), in the same species or race. The souls themselves did not understand how this occurred and no amount of scientific study could pinpoint to as exactly why this always happened. Accidents did happen, if they were accidents at all, as Quinlan had often pondered, and sometimes souls were misplaced in a different species or race.

Demons for whatever reason didn’t seem to share this bond between souls. They either dismissed the feelings or perhaps lacked them entirely. They found the dependency on others unneeded and would only form bonds with others for the purpose of procreation. Love, except between blood relations, was a foreign concept to them. This created stigma between the two races. Humans were disgusted by their lack of adherence to what they felt to be a sacred bond.

When a human soul was born into a demon body it often led a conflicted life. It would try to conform to the ways of their birth parents but all the while long for something they couldn’t quite comprehend. The human soul would never be permitted to meet its partner and thus both would suffer from severe depression which ultimately led to premature deaths.

This was only because the humans were to afraid to interact with the demons and the demons to angered by the way the humans had always shunned them. A cycle of mistrust had built up through the centuries and it seemed as if it was there to stay. It was a preposterous and out dated practice in Quinlan’s opinion. Demons, barbaric? She often scoffed at this statement; weren’t the humans themselves barbaric for letting the two suffer a lifetime without one another? Weren’t humans barbaric for shunning their follow souls because of differentiating opinions?

Her train of thought was cut short as Vivian added on to her declaration suddenly, “Can we get back to the main issue on hand? You’ve overstepped your boundaries enough for one meeting, haven’t you?”

Quinlan smiled slightly, “The main issue has everything to do with this one, but if you so insist....” She settled back in her seat, leaving an uncomfortable silence afterwards.

Vivian made a soft he-hemming noise in the back of her throat, “Simply delusional if you ask me...” She trailed off once more as Leighton threw her an exasperated glare.

“All in favor of keeping the separation of these two souls apart for the safety of our city and for peace across the lands please raise your right hands.” The bug-eyed man croaked deeply, much like a bullfrog.

All hands in the office raised high except that of the Quinlan’s who merely folded them neatly in her lap.

“So be it. This meeting is now adjourned.” Leighton said, standing with a flourish, “I bid you all a good day. Miss Ashe if you don’t mind—“ His question cut off as he blinked in confusion. He had meant to ask what position of office the woman held but the spot where she had sat was now vacant.

Quinlan was already down the long narrow hall, her heels clicking furiously against the tile with her brisk pace. She was frustrated, yes, but not defeated. A smirk tugged at her lips. Oh no, she was not defeated in the least.

“No war has been one on one battle alone…” She mused to herself calmly, closing the front entrance door behind without a backwards glance.