Demon Walking

by Eve Langlais

  “A dragon mage,” Luc said with a sneer.

  “Or a demon,” Babette retorted.

  “Doesn’t matter either way. Whoever that person is, they’re the true menace and the reason Luc has to stick close to me.”

  “You don’t need him to kill anything.” Babette jerked a thumb at Luc. “You’re a big girl. You can do it yourself.”

  “Not according to my visions. I need help. His help.” She cast him an apologetic look. “Without fail, if Luc doesn’t come to my rescue, I will die.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tell people you’d seen yourself die, and there was always a ton of drama.

  The first time it’d happened, Elspeth was six and having a party. Mother had planned it and invited Elspeth’s whole kindergarten class, trying to make her strange daughter some friends. Elspeth went along with it because, in one vision, the party ended well.

  However, someone must have crushed a butterfly somewhere because she didn’t live in that version of the future. That morning, Elspeth had drawn a series of pictures. The yard, bright and green with growth. The pretty, white gazebo with its calming, limestone flooring. The brilliantly colored bouncy castle Mother had bought. And lots of happy, smiling faces. Elspeth was in the castle, waving while eating cotton candy.

  The next picture showed a tornado suddenly arriving in the yard. Mouths on the people open wide in silent screams.

  The next, a raging force, the entire page covered in vicious swirls of back and gray wax. Shredded within it, brighter colors. Then, the more disturbing parts…as in limbs. She’d worn her red crayon down to a nub.

  Mother took one look at her art and calmly cancelled the party.

  Elspeth had pouted. At six, she didn’t grasp death. After seeing the destruction the tornado left in their yard, she’d gotten a slight inkling.

  The party wasn’t the only time she’d escaped death. Every few years, a new deadly vision would come along. Most could be avoided, and for those that couldn’t, she asked for help.

  Like now. She needed Luc to survive what was to come.

  She’d not seen it clearly yet, just bits and pieces. What she’d not expected was her bestie’s jealousy that Luc was pivotal to Elspeth’s future instead of Babette.

  “What do you mean you need this asshat to live? You know, I’ve been nice, trying to give you the benefit of the doubt with this whole vision thing. But now, I think maybe you’re just deranged. Because who in their right mind would choose a demon over me to save them?” Babette shook her head and tsked.

  Luc came to her defense. “Elspeth is not deranged. She has a gift. A rare talent.”

  “I don’t know if I’d use the word gift,” Elspeth muttered. Without her pills, remaining positive proved a touch harder than usual.

  “It is a gift. Ignore the skeptics.” A pointed look at Babette by Luc. “And don’t doubt your sight. After my people changed their violent ways, they ditched many of our old teachings, too. They chose to ignore our seers when they should have listened.”

  “People have a hard time listening,” Elspeth replied. And using a bullhorn to get her point across was considered a public nuisance by the cops.

  “Can you blame them for shutting their ears? You’re talking about the future coming to you in dreams. I’ve dreamed, too, after eating some magic ’shrooms. Dreamed I was gonna date a despot who wanted to rule the world.” Babette’s face twisted. “Shit, that did happen.”

  “I don’t need anyone to believe what I see. Because it’s not always set in stone. There are many possible futures, and I don’t see them all. Not even a fraction. Just chunks here and there. Sometimes, only a blink of an eye. Hints, certainly not enough to run around screaming that the sky is falling.”

  “Is it ever going to fall?” Babette asked with utmost seriousness.

  “Not in anything I saw recently. But I believe there was a time back in the nineties where it almost happened.” Mama claimed it was the big hair and the aerosol sprays in the eighties that almost caused it.

  “Does anyone know you have visions?” Luc asked. In the dungeons, those with the gift tried to hide it. Because the suzerain always took those people away.

  “My mother knows. Why do you think I spent so much time at the asylum growing up? Lovely place. Always a ton of art supplies.” She fondly remembered their pudding.

  “Erm, I thought the whole locked-away thing with some head shrinks had to do with your happy, happy attitude and lack of arrogance.” Babette held out her hand and took the garments Alfred silently dropped into her palm.

  An excellent manservant who arrived just in time and, obviously, well prepared, given he’d managed to find women’s garments rather easily.

  Luc turned his head before Babette dropped the blanket.

  Adorable.

  “Dealing with my lack of arrogance and other dragon traits was only part of it. The dreams were the other reason. I started having the visions when I was young. Small things at first. Lost trinkets that I would see in a dream and then find. Knowing when someone was cheating on his or her spouse. Or lying. I thought I was doing the right thing by helping people and telling them.” Elspeth’s lips turned down. “People don’t want the truth.”

  “They hurt you.” Luc practically growled the word.

  Startled, she raised her gaze to his and found herself captured by the blazing heat. “They didn’t mean to.”

  “Why did your parents not protect you?” He paced, his body tense.

  Also wearing entirely too much clothing. Really, who needed a shirt inside? Perhaps if she stripped hers, he’d remove his.

  “My mother protected me. Once she knew what was happening, she told me that I had to keep those dreams to myself.” At night when her mama smoothed back her hair, she’d whisper, “Hide what you are. Tell no one. Trust me. It’s best.”

  “How is that helping?” Luc stopped and whirled to growl at her.

  “Because if people knew, they’d try to use me.” The history she’d dug up on her kind was very clear on that point. “There’s a reason Yellow dragons are rare.” Rare and not long-lived.

  Did something in her tone change? Because his gaze narrowed. “You’re hiding something.”

  “Me?” She batted her lashes. He didn’t soften. “You caught me. I have a twenty in my bra.” She shoved her hand into her shirt and removed a green piece of paper. “I borrowed it from Babette in case we got separated again.”

  He swallowed. His eyes lost focus. Was he having a vision, too?

  Babette snapped her fingers. “Dude, the way you’re acting, people will think it’s the first time you crushed on a girl.”

  What if it was? Elspeth had heard enough to know he didn’t have much contact with people before coming here.

  Luc rubbed his chin, mulling over everything they’d discussed, looking rather handsome and thoughtful. She could see the moment clarity hit him because his eyes widened and he blurted, “The person in your visions, the one you deemed more dangerous than me, is going to come after you.”

  “It’s what seems most likely from what I saw.”

  “But that means you’re in danger. Why haven’t you departed? The peril is great if you remain.”

  “It’s dangerous for me everywhere. The visions don’t leave because I move around. The future doesn’t stop if I’m not there.”

  “It’s a large burden,” he said softly.

  “I guess, but I’m used to it.” Elspeth smiled. “Good thing I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

  “You shouldn’t have to.” Luc’s growled words wrapped her in a caress. “No one should have to see the ugliness of the world all the time.”

  “It’s why I have the pink pills. The green ones are for when my pink pills aren’t working.”

  “You’re on drugs?”

  “Several,” Elspeth admitted. “Or I was. I kind of stopped taking them a few days ago.”

  “Is that bad?” Babette asked. “Do you need a hospital?”


  Elspeth cocked her head. “I’m not technically ill. I’ll just be seeing more stuff until I get my meds back.”

  “Seeing…as in?” Babette queried.

  “The future. We’re coming to a right fork soon. Racing and racing onward and further.” Elspeth cocked her head. “In some futures, we’re heroes.”

  “Heroes?” Babette straightened. “With cool costumes?”

  “The coolest.”

  “And you saw this?”

  “Yup.”

  Babette cocked her head. “Question? Are all Yellow dragons psychic like you? Because this is the first I’ve heard of it.”

  “Because it’s usually a weak power. Most Yellows barely get déjà vu, a few, like me, are inundated with possibilities and go quite insane.”

  “Are you crazy?” Babette asked. “Not that I’m judging. I like crazy.”

  She showed them a wide smile. “I’m a manageable crazy. I learned at the asylum that I could handle anything if I tackled it with a positive attitude and a grin.”

  “Are you sure they didn’t mean positive attitude and a gun?” A dry reply by her bestie.

  “Babette! Shooting is never the answer.”

  “I don’t know if I agree with that. I’ve shot many a pheasant that was the answer to my aching belly.”

  “Your kind still hunts to eat?” Luc asked.

  “Actually, we usually hit the grocery store unless I’m craving something really fresh.”

  “Did your people hunt?” Elspeth found herself curious about him.

  “As my people evolved from a violent species to a peaceful one, we moved away from eating flesh. We chose to only eat that which we could grow and stopped hunting entirely.”

  At that Elspeth interrupted. “So you’re saying you don’t eat meat then?” Her nose wrinkled. “That doesn’t seem right because I know I’ve smelled bacon in your house.” She could scent the ambrosia of the salty protein from several blocks away.

  “I eat meat. All my people ended up returning to it. In the dungeon, we didn’t have a choice. When the jailors slowed our feeding, we hunted anything that moved.”

  “Meat is meat,” Elspeth noted. “You survived.”

  “Hold on a second.” Babette jumped in. “I want to know how you plan to fight. If your people didn’t kill anything, then what method did you plan to employ to take over the world? Were you going to have a dance-off?” Babette did a finger snap thing, her body undulating as she sassed Luc.

  He frowned. “Demons don’t dance.”

  “And they don’t fight either, according to you,” Babette poked.

  “Are you implying we were somehow less than you? I’ll have you know, we were extremely advanced as a society.”

  Babette immediately fired back. “Did you have the internet?”

  “No.”

  “Television? Cell phones? Dishwashers?”

  “No. We had scrying mirrors, echo chambers, and washed our own dishes.”

  “But you didn’t have any science,” Babette exclaimed in her aha moment.

  “Because we had magic.”

  “Except you didn’t have magic. You said the metal in the rock made it impossible.”

  “I said it made it hard. In the dungeons where it was concentrated, it was nigh impossible. But aboveground, with some insulation from the effect, small things were doable.”

  “What about here?” Babette, ever sharp, quickly zoned in on the important bits.

  He rolled his shoulders. “There is magic here for the shaping, but I don’t yet know if it is compatible with me.”

  Luc’s honesty was almost too much. Did he not know how to keep a secret? Elspeth wanted to tell him to keep some things to himself.

  “As a representative for the demons, you are really starting to disappoint,” Babette declared with a sigh. “You can’t shift. You can’t do magic. You can’t have sex like a normal man.”

  “My ability to fornicate is fine,” he exclaimed hotly.

  Babette smirked. “Thank you.” And then turned to Elspeth. “You’re welcome.”

  “For what? I already knew we were compatible.” She’d had a vision of them together.

  “You get dirty dreams, too?” Babette’s gaze widened.

  “Not about other people,” Elspeth quickly corrected, only to realize that it sounded just as bad. Her cheeks heated, and she couldn’t look at Luc.

  “You go, Elsie!” Babette high-fived her. “And I guess now that I know you’re a true-blue gypsy lady with visions, I will forgive you for being freakishly happy and optimistic all the time.” Babette’s eyes lit up. “Fuck me, that’s why you’re so bloody nice. You’re compensating for being fucked-up.”

  Elspeth’s lips quirked. “That’s only part of it. By doing unto others, I am trying to do my part to ease the ugliness in the world.” She hung on to a vision of the perfect world, glimpsed only once. But it had stuck with her. “Most of the things I see, the bad stuff, is easy to avoid. Uttering a kind word instead of an insult. Sharing instead of hoarding.”

  “I am not sharing my hoard.”

  Elspeth put a hand on Babette’s tense arm. “There is nothing wrong with having treasures. Simply ensure they harm no one.”

  “The only thing hurting is my ass from the candy.”

  “What do you hoard?” Luc asked.

  Usually, she didn’t tell. Elsie knew all too well the mockery people felt compelled to dish out. But she wasn’t ashamed of her hoard, and Luc wasn’t like a dragon. “I like to gather kind acts. Laughter. I find my collection of hugs especially satisfying.”

  Babette wrinkled her nose. “Those are emotions, not things.”

  “They are. And to me, they are the most precious things in the world.” When she felt especially morose and disconnected, or if a vision hit her particularly hard, she’d retreat into her vault of hugs and fall back into the sensation of holding someone against her. Someone anchoring her to a place and time.

  Not everyone understood that kind of treasure.

  The look on Babette’s face proved amusing. Bafflement. “You collect feelings. How are you supposed to touch and pet them? And eat them even if you’re on a diet?”

  “I remember them, and I feel good.” Elspeth closed her eyes.

  “What happens when you don’t feel good?” Luc asked.

  Her eyes opened. “We don’t talk about that in my family.”

  Babette cackled. “Elsie, that was just about the funniest thing you’ve said all day. As if you’re dangerous. Only around a dessert bar.”

  “You don’t think I can kick ass?” Elspeth tittered.

  “I know you can.”

  “We’ll soon find out.”

  “What?” Luc yelled.

  “You got an outfit planned?”

  “Yes. It’s hanging in the closet at the hotel. Or, at least I assume it still is.”

  Babette sighed. “Yes, that monstrosity is still there. I’d hoped to be thousands of miles away from it at this point.”

  The woman carried on a conversation as if Elspeth weren’t discussing her eminent demise. She’d gotten used to people placating her and pretending she was joking.

  Luc took it quite seriously. He glared. “Am I the only one who grasped what Elspeth said? She predicted her death.”

  “And even she said she’s wrong sometimes. Besides, she’s a dragon. We’re tough to kill,” Babette remarked.

  “Show a little care. She’s your friend,” he growled.

  “Yours, too,” Elspeth added. Then again, the mere fact that he felt the need to defend her said volumes.

  “Chill, dude.” Babette blew a raspberry. “You do realize now that we know about her future, we’re going to stop it.”

  “How? We don’t even know what we’re fighting. How do you battle the unknown? Really, I’d like to know because it might help with the whole conquering thing.”

  Babette puffed out her chest. “Doesn’t matter what it is. We’ll go in and kill it.”

>   “And that will solve all your problems?” he asked.

  “It might have solved yours if you’d tried it,” Babette retorted.

  “Maybe it would have. Or, we would have all died that much sooner.”

  Elspeth didn’t like his pessimism. It was up to her to raise his spirits. Or at least show solidarity. “Don’t listen to Babsy. She’s an instigator. I, on the other hand, am a peacemaker. I will turn the other cheek before I fight.”

  “What if they slap the other cheek?”

  “I offer to forgive them because they are obviously hurting and in need of an outlet.” And slaps didn’t sting for long. It also made her cheeks naturally pink. It didn’t take much to convince someone to slap her. They were always so helpful when she asked.

  Luc scowled at her. “Speaking from experience, I can tell you that is a horrible philosophy. Sure, it sounds great on the surface, but here’s the thing. If a person is willing to slap someone who’s defenseless over and over, then there is no amount of forgiveness that will help. One day, you’ll end up dead. My people learned that lesson.”

  “For me, managing forgiveness and creating my own happiness stave off the depressing nature of the visions. Without optimism, I tend to react poorly.”

  “You mean like when you’re drunk? You’re a right psycho when you’ve had a few too many,” Babette remarked.

  Heat rose in Elsie’s cheeks. “Which is why I avoid alcohol. Apparently, when my inhibitions are lowered, some of my baser instincts emerge.”

  “You mean your dragon side,” Babette interjected. “You’re repressing your true self with all that goody-two-shoes shit.”

  “I don’t need to be mean to be a dragon.”

  Hands planted on her hips, Babette sassed, “Maybe if you were mean, people wouldn’t pick on you all the time.”

  “You don’t pick on me.”

  “Don’t look at me as a shining example.” Babette ducked her head. “I’m one of those who made fun of you behind your back.”

  “I know, and I forgive you, best friend.”

  “Ack!” Babette gagged then sighed as Elsie insisted on giving her a hug. “I’ll never understand you.”