Chapter 8 #2
Now I had to exist in the company of a demon that would rather crawl back into hell than exist in the same room as me.
My heart began to pound against my chest, the tightness coming from nowhere until…
It’s getting harder to breathe under the weight of everything.
Tears pooled at the corner of my eyes and I tipped my head upward.
Do not fucking cry. If you cry, you look weak, and if you look weak, he will take advantage of you. I willed myself to hold back the tears. Hold back everything that was threatening to swallow me whole. All the feelings I hadn’t dealt with over the last few months rearing their ugly heads.
Thallor’s eyes roamed over me for a second as if trying to work something out.
As if looking over me for injuries that didn’t exist. Because it’s impossible to see cuts below the skin and wounds that bleed from the inside.
I swallowed back the lump in my throat, digging my fingers into my palms and hissing as my nails pierced the cut that has just about scabbed over.
“Sorry…I…”
The jarring ding of my phone pulled my attention away from my own thoughts. I wiped at my cheek as one stray tear tracked down my face, betraying everything that I was feeling. Taking a deep breath, I looked down at my screen–illuminated with a name that never failed to make me smile.
Nick: We just opened and that creep is back in.
Nick: He’s even making Brent uncomfortable which is saying something.
Nick: What do you think his serial killer alias would be?
Nick: The Tailored-suit Torturer? The Executive Executioner? The Boardroom Butcher?
Nick: Just thinking about how much hair gel he uses makes me want to vom.
Nick: If I’m still alive, I’ll see you Friday xx
Thank god for Nick and his impressive ability to make me laugh, especially at a time like this.
When he didn’t know I needed it. I looked up from my phone to find Thallor still staring at me.
Staring at the wet track left by a few additional tears that came streaming down my face.
I wasn’t sure what his expression was. Pity?
Confusion? It was like he was trying to make out the thousand other emotions I’d experienced in the last two minutes.
Trying to work out what I was truly feeling on the inside.
Good luck with that, pal. I have been trying to do that for years. You’ll need more than demon powers to achieve a feat like that.
A little while later, I had washed all the soil and sweat off my body and slipped into a different pair of pyjamas.
They were black and covered in clouds and stars, and I had pulled a long cardigan around me.
Once I had finally brushed my hair, I stalked back out into the main living area, where Thallor sat on the sofa and rifled through The Malediction Codex.
Mortimer had already disappeared from my apartment, off doing what cats do best.
I stalked over to where a large, multi-coloured, quilted pouf currently resided.
I pulled it from the corner so it was in a position that was slightly askew to the sofa.
Only once I had finally settled onto it did Thallor look up from where he was reading.
He raised one eyebrow but said nothing as he looked at me.
How does one reason with a demon?
“I’m not sure what to do here,” I started, before questioning myself and my own sanity. Trying to reason with Thallor should have been last on my list.
He closed the book, putting it down on the empty seat next to him before levelling me with an apathetic look.
One that loosely translated to in-the-company-of-Quincey-Sterling.
“The incantation was fairly self-explanatory. The Malphas Treaty,” he pointed to himself before continuing, “grants the user three wishes. As the user, you make said wishes. After that, we part ways, and what you do then is up to you.”
“I can’t,” I said quietly, dropping my head because I knew I couldn’t withstand the intensity of his glare. “Not yet…”
“So, I am to what?” Thallor’s voice lowered several octaves, and I realised it wasn’t just his glare I needed to be wary of. It was him. Everything about him. “Sit around and wait whilst you decide. Are you really that fucking selfish?”
A few seconds passed. And then a few more.
I wanted to avoid the same frustrating rhythm our conversations had taken the other times we had spoken.
Where I would say something, and he would snarl at me.
And then I would say something else to rectify the situation, and he would snarl at me some more, before shape-shifting into a terrifying monster that could and probably would bite off my head.
“I’m…”
What could I even say to that? There were so many things at play.
So many things that he failed to realise.
He had made so many assumptions about me as a person and my intentions, assumptions that he hurled my way in the form of ice-cold vitriol that almost had me believing it myself.
No. No. I knew who I was as a person. Manic?
Sure. Indecisive? Most definitely. Na?ve?
I don’t doubt it. But selfish? That’s just something you tell yourself to make hating me easier.
“What would you even be doing otherwise?” I asked before I could stop myself.
His brows creased further, if that was even possible, and I watched him closely to see if he would shift into his other form. “More important things than this. None of them, your concern.”
And then I laughed. It bubbled up from the depths of my core, pulling every last bit of pain, sadness, and indignation with it.
It was a laugh that was jarring and cold and bitter sounding.
I would have cowered away from it had I not made the sound myself.
“And that’s not an answer. You say you have more important things to be doing but cannot list a single one.
You tell me I’m selfish, well, I think you are full of shit. ”
“You,” Thallor growled, standing to look down upon me, “are—”
“Intolerable. Insufferable. A waste of fucking space.” I refused to stand down and instead chose to finish his sentence for him. “I know. I get it. I might even have a dictionary somewhere if you want to add a little variety to your insults.”
For a moment, we just sat there staring at each other.
I saw the rise and fall of my own chest mirrored in Thallor.
Wave after wave of coursing fury, adrenaline, and something else I didn’t dare think about coiled around my body.
The rings of his eyes burned with an intensity that fuelled my rage.
He stood, taking a step toward me, and this time I didn’t falter.
I didn’t run or hide. I stood, defiant in his presence until there was nothing but a sliver of distance between his body and mine.
The heat radiating off him paired well with his smoky scent, and if I hadn’t been so inexplicably angry, I might have been tempted to lean into it.
As if having a similar thought, Thallor reared away from me, the look of disdain so infuriatingly clear on his face. “I am not sure how long I can tolerate being in your company.”
“Yeah, well, that makes two of us.”
“Why can’t you just make the wishes now?”
“I just can’t.” I sighed.
“Because you are selfish.”
“Because I’m not ready to. I told you before, and I’ll tell you again, you can think what you want, but you aren’t going to rush me into this.
You might not like that. Hell, you might fucking hate me for it.
But I am going to do this on my time.” I was pleading with him now, my voice more desperate than it had been moments ago.
I couldn’t bring myself to explain what I was planning on wishing for lest I muddled up the words and messed up the whole thing.
But at the same time, something about me and everything I felt inside wanted to bubble up to the surface.
Something inside me needed him to understand just how important this whole thing was.
“So, I’m just supposed to sit on this sofa and wait for you to make a decision?”
“Well…not on this sofa…”
“Yes, this sofa. You want to make my life miserable? Well, then I will wait right here for you to make a decision.” He sat down, leaning back into the sofa, before he picked up the cursed little book that had started this whole thing.
I wanted to go back and scream at myself to just leave it be.
Thallor didn’t look up at me again. He just continued to riffle through the pages as a way to avoid speaking to me.
“What happened to not being able to tolerate my company?”
“I am a demon. I torture souls in hell. I have tolerated far worse, but I’ve yet to spend longer than a few hours with you.
I suppose only time will tell if that’s true.
” And then he looked up at me, settling me with a look I wasn’t sure I’d seen before.
It wasn’t disgust or disdain. He didn’t look bored or unimpressed.
If I were to look up pity in the dictionary I was looking for only moments ago, Thallor’s current expression would be definition enough.
I wasn’t sure what was worse, him hating me or him feeling such apathy for me that all he felt was sorry about my mere existence.
And as much as I disliked Thallor, for his assumptions and cruel words and condescending looks that did little other than make me feel small and insignificant, I was still wracked with a strange sense of guilt.
That somehow, in all this, I was burdening him.
Doing him a disservice. I couldn’t help but accept the notion when I considered all the facts.
At the heart of it all, I was the one at fault.
I was the one who summoned him. I was the one who…
who was selfish. I let out an exasperated sigh.
“I promise,” I whispered as I quietly crumbled under the pressure.
I chose to keep my head down, taking in the tassels of my rug as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.
“I promise I will make three wishes—all of them. I just need time to figure out what they are. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the best I can offer you. ”