by Mark Eller
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"Jolson," the spawn said. "My name is Jolson."
Anithia carefully watched the spawn sitting at her table. She didn’t want him there, had not even asked him to enter her home, but Missa had invited the thing to dine with them while Ani had been preparing dinner. Fortunately, for now, the spawn seemed to be in its intelligent phase. In other words, it answered questions with complete sentences.
"Why are your eyes black?" Missa asked, throwing out one more of her ceaseless questions.
Ani’s nerves felt frayed by this endless chatter when a thing from Hell sat at her table. Could the child never shut-up?
"I don't know," Jolson answered.
"They aren’t always black," Missa said. "They change, just like mine do."
Jolson looked at his hook and back at Missa. "Maybe it’s because I'm no longer entirely spawn."
Anithia almost choked on her soup. She studied Jolson closely, and his strangeness suddenly made sense. His pale, scarred skin, his muted features, and his bearing all shouted spawn, but there were inconsistencies. Spawn had no courage, little intelligence, and they certainly did not have an evil tainted hook attached to the end of their arm. Yes, Jolson was spawn, but he was also something different. Something scarier. Almost shivering with fear, she starred at his hook and wondered how he had gotten it. Even now, Ani felt its draw.
"I bother you," Jolson said to Ani. Looking down at his plate, he pulled the hook closer to his body.
"It’s all right, Jolson." Missa piped in. "My daddy was a demon fighter, but he never killed your kind cause spawn never did anything really bad, and besides, you never had no say in how you ended up this way. Mommy won’t make you leave. Will you, Mommy?" Missa turned large, pleading eyes on Ani and sucked in her bottom lip.
"Missa," Ani said. "We are not demon fighters, and daddy is no longer here. Jolson escaped from Hell, and he’s wearing something he— he shouldn’t have. A demon or devil or something else is likely to come after him, and when they do they’ll probably kill us just for fun. We aren’t strong enough to defend ourselves."
"I can help you." Jolson said, his voice soft, pleading. His eyes glittered and swirled, drawing on her emotions almost stronger than the hook. "I can give you something."
"What could you ever give me?" Narrowing her eyes, Ani shook off the effects of his gaze. What could a pathetic piece of refuse like him do for her?
"What do you want?" Jolson asked. He looked at her expectantly.
"What can you give me?" Ani repeated.
"I can give you courage." Jolson said. "I can give you conviction." He held up his hook, twisting it slightly before her so she could study all its deadly angles. Ani wanted to touch it. She needed to touch it.
"This has stolen attributes from thousands of souls. It holds everything it has taken. I can pass some of those attributes into you— for the right price." Jolson's voice thickened, became hesitant, and his bright eyes started to become dull, telling Ani he was about to enter his stupid phase. "Chose right and Farnon…Farnon will never bother you…again."
"Who told you about Farnon?" Ani demanded.
"Who’s Farnon?" Missa asked.
"I…hid in the Hell hole…for weeks…before I dared leave." Jolson answered. "I–I saw— you b-but hid because your light frightened me." His face became slack, and his head drooped.
"Jolson?" Reaching out, Missa shook him. He looked at her with weary eyes.
"I…sometimes…can’t think," he said and drooled.
Shaking her head slowly, Anithia rose to pull Jolson out of her house while her mind churned over thoughts. Something about the conversation didn’t feel right. "Keep your gifts," she told the unresponsive thing. "You have nothing I want. Besides, I’ve nothing to give away."
Jolson didn’t respond. Ani hoped her resolve would remain strong when Jolson once more became aware. Demons or devils or something else would come for Jolson. Part of her hoped they came soon.
