CH.9 The Demon and His Prey
Iris woke up in her bed, in the tower of her parents' house.
That familiar smell in the air. She had no idea how she had gotten there.
The last thing she remembered was running away from the palace, falling down the stairs.
She remembered lying defeated on the cold ground, staring at the darkening skies until the dark clouds engulfed her too.
She woke up to the drumming of the rain on the roof.
It was leaking and water dripped through the gaps onto her face.
Lazily Iris opened her eyes. As she tried to sit up, pain gripped her body.
Her breath was shaky. She was no longer wearing her ball gown.
A light nightgown hugged her slender body.
Who had changed her clothes, she asked herself.
Her bruises showed through the soft fabric.
As she stood up, she felt dizzy. She had to grab onto something to keep from falling. She felt weak. Her mouth was dry.
The memory of the masquerade ball at the palace still played in her mind. She wanted to erase it. She would scratch it right out of her brain with her nails if it were possible.
She noticed a white rose in a vase on the flimsy table.
She was sure it hadn't been there when she left the room the night before.
She hesitantly took it in her hand and admired its beautiful head in full bloom.
She smelled it. A sweet scent that reminded her of her birthday. The last little joy she had left.
For a moment she sat there alone, just her and the emptiness.
Thinking hurt, so she didn't do it. It seemed like an eternity before she dared to step out of her hiding place from despair.
Her steps were careful as she walked down the stairs.
She walked along the wall. The wood creaked under her feet.
No voices echoed in the silence. Her stepmother and Anastasia had probably not returned from the palace yet.
She imagined Anastasia lying next to him now.
He was touching her the same way he had touched her that night.
She shuddered at the thought. It disgusted her.
Iris sat down on the last step. She ran her fingers through her hair. She buried her face in her knees. She closed her eyes, fighting back tears. She wanted to cry, but it was as if the oceans of her tears had dried up. Not a single drop. Only the cruel, vast emptiness eating her alive.
Someone gently touched her, lifting her gaze. She saw his golden eyes again. There was something comfortingly familiar in them. Something that told her she was finally home.
"Are you okay, my little witch?"
"No," in a small voice she admitted.
She didn't want to lie anymore. Not anymore.
She had tried to keep up the mask for so long, for the promise she had made to her mother, for the honor of her father, but she couldn't pretend anymore.
The years had been killing her. She hugged her demon.
For some reason, she felt that everything was better with him.
Luc hesitated to hug her. It was something unfamiliar to him.
Her closeness. And he saw the pain in her eyes, a crack he didn't want to widen.
"What about your leg?" he touched her right ankle gently. "You lost your shoe and fell pretty hard."
As if out of thin air, he conjured her shoe and put it on her.
"It fits perfectly."
"My ankle hurts a little, but nothing I can't handle."
Luc lifted her into his arms. Iris gasped softly at the sudden movement. She gripped him tightly around the neck.
"What are you doing?"
"Your leg is injured, so I'm carrying you to the kitchen so you don't have to strain it."
"You know I can walk, right? I walked down all those stairs."
"But now I'm with you, and you don't have to."
There was an unexpected tenderness in him for the demon. Iris had always imagined them as malevolent creatures that preyed on the souls of the innocent. But he... The way he held her protectively in his arms, his eyes etched with a promise of war against anyone who would try to harm her.
And she had to admit that she liked it when his powerful arms held her as if he could keep her world from falling apart.
"How gallant of you."
"I am all gallantry and generosity. I could yet become an angel."
A slight smile graced her lips. So weak and fragile that it was almost nonexistent, but he noticed it.
"I knew you could smile."
Luc carried Iris to the kitchen and sat her down on the table. He wanted to lift the skirt of her dress, but she stopped his hand from wandering higher.
"I am a demon, Iris, not a human. If I ever claim you, you will beg for it yourself."
She allowed him to lift her skirt and look at the wounds. He gently traced the bruises that adorned her skin with his fingertips. Carefully, as if she were made of glass, he grabbed her ankle. Iris winced in pain.
"It probably hurts more than you're willing to admit."
"It doesn't hurt," she objected. "I'm not a fragile doll."
"I know. It's even worse when you actually feel the pain."
He pulled her skirt up a little higher, to just above her knee.
Iris never had a problem showing more bare skin than necessary, like when she was swimming naked in the lake, but she felt kind of vulnerable in front of him.
She wasn't afraid he would hurt her, she was more afraid of herself.
Of what lurked inside her. When he was near, the voice inside her was stronger.
Calling her. Her mother must have felt that darkness, she told herself.
That was why she had so often emphasized to her the necessity of good triumphing over evil.
She was afraid she might succumb to the temptation of his golden eyes.
That maybe she wants to taste the forbidden fruit.
"Doesn't anything else hurt you?"
He searched for injuries with a gentle touch. When he rested his hand on her ribs, she held her breath.
She shook her head in response.
"Did you change my clothes?" she asked him, giving him a questioning look.
He leaned towards her. He braced his hands on the table, holding her with his own body as if in a cage. His eyes sparkled as mischievously as his smile.
"No need to worry, my queen, I wasn't looking."
Iris gently slapped him on the shoulder. "And you call yourself a gentleman."
"I am a gentleman according to my convenience."
"I've already noticed."
She was glad for his company. He could distract her thoughts. His presence made her pretend she wasn't crumbling inside. He was the lone ray of sunshine amid the storm of her life.
Luc disappeared into the garden for a moment. He returned with various herbs that even Iris didn't recognize. He made a kind of ointment from them and rubbed it on her ankle.
"What is that? It smells terrible."
"The worse the smell, the more effective."
He bandaged her ankle. A little too hard. She winced slightly in pain.
"You'll be fine tomorrow," he said.
"I have a question for you."
"You have many questions, dear Iris, and nothing will stop you from getting the answers."
"The rose I found this morning is from you?" she asked.
Before she could open her mouth again, he gave her the answer to the question she hadn't even asked.
"If you're referring to all those roses you got for your birthday, they were always from me and only me."
"Why?"
"You were sad after your mother died. Sadder than a rainy day. I wanted to cheer you up."
"But why didn't you ever show up?"
Luc sighed. "So many questions."
"And you are reluctant to answer them."
"I don't mind," he objected. "It wouldn't be appropriate for me to show myself at that time.
Your father didn't know about your mother's past, and it would be quite complicated to explain it to him.
However, his fate was already written, and I wanted to give you the last happy moments you had left with him. "
"You knew my father was going to die?"
"Fate cannot be changed, Iris. Once it is written, no power in the world can change it."
"But when he died, I was left alone. You weren't here."
Luc sighed deeply. He couldn't talk himself out of it anymore.
"I'm here now, and nothing in Heaven or Hell will stop me from coming back to you, Iris. I will always find you."
He started cooking and Iris looked at him in amazement. She wanted to help him, but he insisted that she rest.
"Are all demons this nonchalant?"
"I just didn't want to scare you on the first day," he said indifferently. "Usually it's just torn-out hearts, bloody sacrifices, and hellfire. And the smell of death, which you get used to over time."
Panic flashed across Iris' face.
"That was a joke," Luc laughed, and Iris forced a fleeting smile. "These are centuries-old prejudices that have condemned us to a life in the shadows and darkness. They also consider people like you evil, my little witch. They hunt down the ones like you and burn them."
"I'm not a witch," Iris snapped.
"Of course, you are, dear Iris," he said. "Just like your mother and your great-grandmother and all the women of your lineage. Most of them unawakened. I suppose you didn't think the power you sew into your clothes was a gift from God?"
"What does unawakened mean?" Iris wondered.
"A witch who has not yet found her full power. That fire within you still sleeps, and I plan to awaken it. It will burn brighter than the sun in the sky."
"What if I don't want to?"
"You'd be crazy to refuse. And besides, you've already accepted me, so you won't get rid of me that easily," he reminded her of the symbol on her palm that bound them together.
Iris stared at the symbol of the eye. She traced its lines gently with her finger. It even seemed to her that it winked at her.
"Tell me, why didn't my mother accept you?" she asked him.
She wondered if she had done the right thing. If her mother had rejected him, had she made a mistake by accepting him when he seemed like the only cure for her broken heart? He didn't seem like the monster from the fairy tales.
She didn't know what to believe.
"That's probably because I never asked her to accept me. None of your ancestors."
Iris was confused. She didn't understand. Why then...
"Did you trick me?"
"I did not," he denied the heinous accusation. "I am the demon protector of your bloodline. Demons and witches have walked side by side for centuries. But what is between us is rare and special, my queen. One day I will explain it to you. When you are ready."
"Why should I trust you?"
"You simply have no choice."
"Then at least tell me why my mother wanted nothing to do with you."
"I am a demon. She considered me a creature born of pure evil. She thought I spread evil throughout the world like a whisperer."
"And do you?"
"Of course not. I just have a lot of fun ideas that often go wrong."
"I don't know what to think of you, Luc," Iris said.
"Don't think. Feel," he told her.
"I don't want to feel anything right now."
"So for now, let me guide you so that your gift is not wasted."
"You'd better cook something like you promised. I'm starving."
Luc smiled. "As my queen wishes." He bowed nonchalantly to her. "Does my queen like pancakes?"
"I love them."
It was hard for her to believe that there could be a monster hiding inside that demon. Not when he was attentive and kind to her.
At night they lay in the cool grass, watching the stars.
He threw his jacket over her shoulders to keep her warm.
When she fell asleep, he carefully picked her up in his arms and carried her to bed.
Not to the tower where her stepmother had banished her, to her old bed.
Soft and comfortable. He didn't take his eyes off her all night, sitting by her side, making sure she was safe.
He watched her sleep peacefully, immersed somewhere in the oceans of dreams. When he saw that she was being chased by nightmares, he turned them into sweet dreams. And when she woke up, he was with her. She was no longer alone.
Every day he brought her a bouquet of flowers, roses and irises. He carried her in his arms while she pretended her ankle still hurt. Her lovely demon was able to dispel all the dark clouds hovering over her.
And for the first time, she allowed herself to be genuinely happy.
Luc taught her easy spells, such as making flowers bloom in the garden. Just a simple thought was all she needed.
"Close your eyes and concentrate."
She closed her eyes and when she opened them again the whole garden was bursting with colors. She was learning quickly.
"We have to start slowly. Until recently, you didn't even know who you are, Iris. I don't want your power to get out of control," he told her when she wanted more.
"And how long will it take?"
"I don't know, but faster than I expected. You learn very quickly."
"Teach me! I want to know everything."
"It seems like you don't mind being a witch anymore."
"I'm not saying I like it. I'm just curious about what you have to offer. I like the..."
"Power?" he found the right word for her. "That feeling when the world is at your feet?"
"I want to be as powerful as you."
He took a step toward her. He let the space between them disappear.
Iris shivered at the gentle touch on her waist as he pressed her against his chest. He brushed an unruly strand of hair brushed behind her ear.
He leaned toward her slowly, and as he did so, the curtain burst into flames.
It tore them apart. Luc waved his hand, and the flames died down, leaving only charred fabric behind them.
"You will. One day," he said. "When you learn to control it."
?
Several days passed before her stepmother and Anastasia returned from the palace. It was the most peaceful seven days Iris had ever experienced in her life. They were probably more beautiful than her childhood memories.
Luc had been a pleasant companion to her during those days of freedom.
He hadn't made her think about the pain of the thorn stuck in her heart.
He had distracted her. He told her about distant corners of the world, other realms, and times, and Iris listened intently to his captivating voice.
Sometimes she had daydreamed so much that it seemed as if the world around her had melted away and she had seen the distant lands he had told her about as if they were alive.
As if she had only had to stretch out her hand and touch them.
Or was it his power that was showing them to her?
Her stepmother found her in the garden. She was sitting on a swing covered in roses.
Bees were flying around. Her legs were spread out on Luc's knees.
He was caressing her ankle provocatively.
When she saw her stepmother, panic overcame her.
Her heart skipped a beat. But she paid no attention to Luc. As if she hadn't even seen him.
"I see you've been hanging around while we've been gone."
"I have to admit, I've enjoyed life without you." Iris tried not to show embarrassment, glancing at Luc.
He was piercing her stepmother with a hostile gaze. There was something about him that could kill. She could feel it from him. It burned in his golden eyes.
"No more lying around from now on. Go pack your things," her stepmother told her.
"Why?" Iris didn't understand.
"You are going with us to the palace."
"We had a deal. I'll make you a dress and you'll leave me alone for good."
"Our agreement was that if you make the dress, I won't tell the royal guards that you're involved with the rebels. Now go pack your bags. We want to leave before sunset."
"I'm not going anywhere," she refused firmly. "We had an agreement."
"Did you really think we would ever let you go, Iris? You're more naive than I thought," her stepmother laughed. "With your magic dress, we'll take over the whole kingdom."
"No," Iris said unyieldingly.
"You have no choice. Either you do what I want or the king will find out your little secret. I guess people wouldn't like finding out you have witch blood running through your veins."
"I'm no witch," she snapped.
"Maybe. And maybe you are. The enchantment in your craft tells its own story. And let's not forget those children. I saw how you sewed wings for those children who were blown away by a kite and allowed them to fly. One was killed then."
Iris remembered that day very well. There was no wind and she wanted to make the children happy, whose kites refused to fly. She didn't want to hurt anyone. But for some strange reason, the stitches came loose, the spell wore off, and the child fell from the heights.
"I didn't do it on purpose."
"But who will believe you? A witch who kills children? If you want to keep it between us, you will do exactly what I tell you."
And she had no other choice left.
Iris was packing the few things she owned. Luc was pulling everything out of her bag, only adding work to her.
"Stop!" she shouted at him.
"You don't have to go with them if you don't want to, Iris," he told her.
"I have no choice."
"You always have a choice. But sometimes the choices are pretty poor."
"Exactly. And I have a choice between going with them and watching Anastasia hold hands with the man I love and even helping her steal a kingdom for herself, or ending up on the gallows or under the executioner's axe. My options suck."
" You're forgetting the possibility of running away with me," he suggested.
Iris laughed. He wasn't the first to suggest it to her.
"What then? Will I end up on the run because my stepmother will make me a criminal who planned to overthrow the king, or will you kidnap me to Hell?"
"I can't take you there. Not yet," he said.
"And where shall we go?"
"Anywhere. Somewhere far away, where no one will find you."
"Prisoner there or here, what's the difference? Still on the run. Or are you planning to have a minor accident happen to my stepmother so that our secret will remain a secret forever?"
"I can't. The ancient rules forbid demons from harming humans unless we are summoned or they attack us first. They are the rules that protect this world from the chaos that always lurks in the shadows to consume it."
"If you don't know of any other way to free me from this vicious cycle, I have no choice. So please stop making me feel bad and give me back my things."