Chapter 3 #2
I shoved away from him, but didn’t go far, not with that tail thing wrapped on my arm. I looked down at it, at the way the spikes curved away from me so I wasn’t skewered. The way the spines quivered. So realistic. “Let me go,” I spat, glaring up at him. “I didn’t come here for this.”
“No?” His eyes burned as he looked me over. “What did you really come here for? The other demon is too young for you.”
“You think I’d take advantage of someone so young?” I sputtered, struggling against his grasp. That tail felt too real, grasping me like a live thing. Strong. Implacable.
His eyes flickered and he leaned closer so I could feel the heat coming off him.
Lines like glowing fire spread beneath his skin like he was coming apart and showing the magma underneath.
It looked so real. Felt so real. And those eyes.
They didn’t look like contacts. They looked like death come to devour me.
“Young means he doesn’t have control. He would kill you unintentionally. I can’t have you dying before you’ve paid your debt.” His voice was gruff, and his skin kept getting hotter.
“Psh,” I said, struggling to push off his tail and not notice how good he felt at every point of contact. “And you said this would be business. You’re all the melodrama and none of the brass tacks.”
He narrowed his eyes at me and then released me.
As he threw himself back into his massive chair, his body changed color and sizes, until he was the old Dorian I remembered from the strip club.
Still muscled, but leaner, more archer than battle-hardened warrior.
He still didn’t have a shirt, but the way he’d just changed, getting rid of everything demonic in less than a blink left me reeling and stunned more than anything else I’d seen.
I stared at him, searching for a spike or a flicker of tail. “How did you…”
“It’s a glamour used to hide the demon from the world.” He looked at his hand as he flexed it, but they were the tapered fingers I remembered, the ones without claws.
“It’s a glamour used to…” I stumbled around the desk and ducked down, looking for the tail. There was nothing but his feet and legs.
I looked up at him, sitting at his feet while the world started going blurry. “It’s a glamour used to…”
“Hide the demon from the world,” he repeated with a flicker of compassion in his eyes. “If you’re going to be working here with me, you’ll have to accept my reality. This is not a human establishment. I am not human, and I never was.”
I nodded as I slowly stood up between his knees. My own knees were so wobbly, I wasn’t really surprised that I collapsed on his lap. His eyes widened, but he shifted me so my head was on his arm and I could stare up at him.
“Sorry,” I said, staring into those brown eyes. They weren’t glowing. Neither was his skin. “I think I’m having a mental break.” That was the only logical explanation for all of this.
“It’s good to take a break now and then,” he said with a slight frown as he ran a hand down my arm. It was better than a tail. Was that real? Was anything?
“Is it? I’d like a break from being mental. That’s my normal. That’s why I live in the Candy Kingdom. But my special effects aren’t as special as yours.” Wilkie had wings. Real growths fused to his shoulder blades. That wasn’t pretend. My baby hadn’t come out of me in costume.
I struggled to sit up and he let me go, not using his tail to stop me. I tried to see his butt, but he was sitting on it. Where did the tail go? I knew where his jacket and shirt were, ripped in two pieces and left on the floor to either side of him.
I picked up one piece of white fabric and stared at it for a long time. It was ripped, but the fabric was really good breathable cotton with a hint of silk.
“These are great fibers,” I said, staring at the rip line.
He’d actually ripped his shirt off like that?
That wasn’t possible. You couldn’t just flex and tear something down the back that evenly.
And the jacket was even thicker. I peered at his hair, but there wasn’t a hint of spikes.
I cautiously touched the silky strands and he grabbed my wrist, pulling it down while shaking his head.
“You shouldn’t pet a demon. He might come home with you.”
I frowned at him. “You think you’re a real demon?”
His lips tilted. “It’s either that, or I have some seriously worrisome growths.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and then opened them, but he was still there, looking how he’d looked, but it didn’t seem real anymore.
It was too shiny, less well done than the fangs and tail.
“Say you are a demon. You come from hell? Like the hot place all fire and brimstone? You fight with angels? You’re here to steal people’s souls? ”
He flashed a real smile as he leaned back, hands open, relaxed on the arm rests.
“There are other places, dimensions, and that’s where I’m from.
My world was devoured by the Zombie Queen.
All of my remaining kind fled to this world.
I was here before that, though. I’m not a proper demon.
I would kill angels if I could, but they’re already dead.
I don’t steal souls, I feed on emotions.
I fed on lust when I had the strip club.
Now I feed on blood lust. The same but more. ”
“You couldn’t just go to war zones and hang out feeding on that?”
He blinked. “I’ve fought in several wars over the years. It’s one of the things that makes me not a proper demon. I tend to sympathize with humanity.”
“Oh. Over the years? How long do demons live?” I asked questions that seemed logical, but they seemed to come from someone else. Demons weren’t real. Except how else could you explain the shirt?
“Demons live until they’re killed. The longer they live, the harder they are to kill.”
“So, if you survive into your forties—”
“Four hundreds.” He stood up, taller than he’d been before, like he couldn’t quite pack all of the demon behind his old glamour.
“Four…” I stared at him while the idea of being four hundred years old smashed whatever was left of my rational mind and left it in a pile of goo.
“You’re going to start working now. You’ll wash dishes. Does that sound agreeable?”
“Okay. Wait, you want me to wash dishes now?” I looked up at him as he escorted me towards the door, a hand on the small of my back. “But we haven’t worked out details of the loan payment.” Yes. Let’s talk about the loan now that we’d gotten the mythical part of the conversation out of the way.
He flashed a sharp smile. “Your friend has to leave before the full moon, and your other friend must leave before her husband realizes she’s gone missing, and your other friends need to leave before they get themselves killed.
The bar should be secure enough for your mortality.
We’ll iron out the details tomorrow morning.
I’ll have Straldi take you home after you work until three. ”
I stopped, turning and putting my hands on his bare chest. I needed to stop.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t understand what was going on.
I’d come here for my son, not some weird ‘I’m a demon, I’ve always been a demon, and I’m hundreds of years old,’ nonsense.
“You’re saying that Honey and Lucy are real werewolves and vampires? She’s not just a furry?”
He covered my hands with his. His hand was so large, so capable of reaching into your chest, pulling out your heart, and squeezing all the happiness out of it.
Slowly, slowly, the glamour melted away and I was forced to look up higher into his sculpted face.
The spikes looked extra sharp with his hair falling forward, eyes burning gold, but not as dark as before.
Did that mean he’d calmed down? His body was hot under my fingers, but not quite enough to burn.
And the lines of magma under his skin. Real.
True. If only he’d looked like this before so I would have known that he really was a monster.
His heat stirred me with a shock of awareness that was more terrifying than the spikes coming out of his head. It didn’t matter what he looked like. He still made me feel like I was home.
I pulled my hand away and gave him a calm smile to cover up the frantic racing of my heart, the twisting in my stomach.
“Dishes until three will be perfect. I don’t need you to show me the kitchen.
I’m sure I can find my own way.” Maybe the other winged one could give me directions.
Maybe he wasn’t Wilkie, but maybe he knew other younger demons who…
My son was a real demon? From another dimension?
Things were getting blurry around the edges. I wasn’t getting enough oxygen.
He rumbled, “How beautifully confident you are. I remember the trouble you got into at a human club. I will escort you to the kitchen.” He gave me a smile that was somehow charming in spite of the glimpse of fangs.
“Oh. You’re worried I’ll steal things?”
“I’m worried you’ll be accidentally murdered. This is not the same sort of establishment I ran before.”
“To go with your new fangs.”
“And my craving for blood and war.”
I blinked at him and then headed for the door. “That explains it.” Nothing explained anything. There were no explanations, only confusion piled upon impossibility.
“Not that you’re asking for explanations. You will get them anyway, but not today. Today is the full moon and my club is full as well.”
“It’s not safe here? What about the young demon? Is he safe?”
He made a sound, a sigh of disappointment.
“You’re still thinking about him. He’s not for you.
Still, if you’re concerned, my club is safe from what hunts him, so yes, he is not in immediate harm.
That will change if he accidentally eats you, crushes you, or rips out something that won’t grow back, like your spine.
If you wish to keep him alive, you’ll keep your distance from him. ”
“What hunts him?” I grabbed his arm while the world spun with panic.
Hearing that something hunted the demon who may or may not have been my son was over the edge of too much.
My son was a real demon? Really? But he’d been so cute and sweet and perfect.
But something was hunting him? What if this demon wasn’t Wilkie?
What if my baby had already been taken by the thing that hunted young demons?
He looked down at my hand where it rested on his skin then back to my eyes.
“The White Rabbit was hunting him, but he’s currently being held in the Grand Master’s dungeon.
I do not know who the Zombie Queen has given the assignment to after she lost her favorite.
Perhaps she forgot about her pet demon.”
“The Zombie Queen? The one who killed all the demons? I don’t…” The blurriness grew as panic and not breathing finally got to me. My legs went out and he caught me before my head hit the ground.
“No, you really don’t,” he murmured, words that lingered along with the scent of cinnamon bears as I blacked out.