Innocence

by Samael Wolf

  “You did mean to imply that you’re some sort of… fragmentary being, right?” I inquired curiously.

  Aen’s expression darkened as she looked up, and I could readily imagine feline ears flattening to her head. “You’re a sharp one, you know that?” She waved off my apology. “It’s not a bad thing; I’m just starting to see why Sae wanted to avoid you today. She knew you’d probably pry at her. Actually, if it were up to me and Kei, you’d already know everything by now and all this dancing around wouldn’t be necessary.”

  I couldn’t help myself. As bad as I felt for catching her slips, I pounced on this one as well. “Which means that the final decision belongs to somebody above you,” I pointed out. “And since I don’t think that’s Sae or Ley, and it’s probably not Esti, I’d have to guess it’s whoever or whatever is called Omiyage?”

  I didn’t see Aen move, which suggested that she hadn’t. She was just suddenly standing in front of her stool, body quivering rigidly with shock. “I changed my mind, you are too sharp!” she hissed, glaring at me as if I’d offended her. “I’m officially getting out of here before you ask something neither of us want an answer to.”

  “I-I’m sorry!” I called after her as she stormed for the door, stunned by her mercurial behavior. “I can refrain from prying if it’s that much of a problem!”

  She turned, favoring me with a sidelong smirk that belied her earlier reaction. “Why would I want you to stop? I hope you figure it all out so I can tell the others ‘I told you so!’ ”

  I rocked back, having the absurd mental image of taking refuge behind the counter. I couldn’t tell if she was upset or not, and I was running out of energy just trying to keep up. “Is this a cat thing?” I plaintively asked, heedless of my volume since it didn’t appear Aen much cared who overheard at this point.

  She snorted, pushing open the door. “You have no idea.”

  I guess I didn’t.

  It took a couple of hours before I had my mental balance back, but fortunately, the early afternoon rush didn’t last and I had a bit of time to immerse myself in study. By the time I was feeling more at odds with my first meeting with one of Sae’s siblings, I was also feeling a little more confident in the final round of exams coming up. There hadn’t been nearly enough time to go over the texts again between having found out one of my housemates was half demonic, my manager was something and wouldn’t say what, and losing an entire day in the aftermath of my first time with Esti—

  Wow, no, still not ready to think about that without blushing.

  I’d had a busy week. Dad would probably just be happy I wasn’t on my third time reading through each textbook. I made a note to call him later, as soon as I figured out what in God’s name I was going to say about the last seven days. I knew I couldn’t tell him about what I’d learned, but it felt wrong not to say something. I’d come up with something closer to the truth than not. Lying really wasn’t something I wanted to make a habit of, supernatural beings or not.

  Distracted, I was already greeting the person who walked in before I realized this wasn’t an ordinary customer. The words caught in my throat as I beheld Sophia Orkin, stepping in just as diffidently as she had her first time entering. She froze as she spotted me, her expression breaking into a nervous smile I was too surprised to return properly. Somehow, in everything that had happened, I had never counted on actually seeing her again.

  “Hi,” she offered uncertainly as she approached the counter. “I was… I was hoping I would see you again. You probably don’t even remember me. You helped me and my son last week and I never got a chance to thank you for what you did. Is there a good time we could talk, or…?”

  Now that I knew what to listen for, I could hear the anxiety in the way she drifted off. I was lucky enough to have never lived in a house where anyone was being abused—that I knew of, anyway—but I’d had a class which brought home the horrors of domestic abuse. Sophia trailed off because she didn’t know how I would react to the subject being broached. I think if I showed any signs at all of being upset, I really wouldn’t ever see her again. She had no way of separating any negative response, even one imagined, from one which heralded more abuse.

  “Of course I remember. There’s no reason we couldn’t talk right now, if you want,” I hastened to assure her. “If you want privacy, I could give you my phone number. Unfortunately, there isn’t anyone else here right now, so I can’t leave the counter.”

  Sophia nodded, but I wasn’t sure how to interpret her expression. Disappointment mixed with relief, perhaps?

  “I won’t bother you long, then.” Yet she paused a moment to chew her lip, looking at me curiously. “Jeffrey insisted on showing me a video, now that we don’t— now that we have more free time.” She took a breath, shivering. I tried not to guess what would have originally concluded that sentence. The subject of her late husband lay between us like a used tissue, so unpleasant neither of us wanted to touch it. “Was that really you? Sammy Long?”

  “Sanmei,” I automatically corrected her, which probably answered her question by itself, but I could never quite restrain myself when it came to giving a wholly complete response. “And almost certainly. I was on a show and in a documentary.” I took off my glasses to show her my gold eyes with their slight hint of cloudiness. “I’m happy to answer any questions you may have.”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s not that,” she said, though I noticed her gaze kept returning to my eyes. “I was just— I wondered if—“

  She seemed unable to get the thought out, and I could well understand. When I got flustered, sometimes I was lucky if I could speak at all. I decided to try and, as people said, reboot this silly machine we called ‘being social.’

  “Let’s start over,” I invited, holding out my hand. “My name’s Sanmei. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  The woman hesitated and then took my hand. I think both of us were uncomfortable with the contact, but this was a social nicety that usually signaled a new beginning. She shook it gently and then let go, her movements so very flighty, it hurt my heart. “Sophia. I was wondering if you’d be willing to… spend time with Jeffrey. He’s been talking to himself a lot lately and I think he’s made himself a new imaginary friend to help him cope. He doesn’t really have any friends his own age and he’s been out of school a lot, this past year, so he won’t have many when he goes back next month.”

  “Spend time with him?” I echoed blankly. “You mean like a tutor? I used to tutor kids around his age when I was finishing high school.”

  She looked at me like I’d grown a second head, clueing me in that I may have misinterpreted her. “No, I just meant he’s been asking about you and I thought it might help if he saw someone he knew. Now that Zack— now that he’s not— I was going to offer to treat it like babysitting and pay you.” She paused. “Finishing high school? How old are you exactly? Fifteen, sixteen?”

  I blushed and ducked my head. “Eighteen, but actually, I finished high school when I was eleven." And now I’m a junior in college. But I didn’t say that out loud, because she was already giving me the look people do when I say such things, the expression that began with disbelief and then bordered on awe as they realized I wasn’t making a joke. Even if I were inclined to brag, I don’t feel more intelligent than other people. If anything, it usually feels like I’m struggling just to keep up with everyone else.

  She was still giving me that stare. “Would you mind tutoring Jeffrey? He’s been out of school a lot the last year. I could, I mean, I’d compensate—“

  Heavens, she’s almost worse than I am when I’m flustered. I cleared my throat, trying to interrupt before she worked herself up even more. “We’d have to coordinate it around my schedule, but I’d be happy to do anything I can. We can talk about compensation later. Let me give you my phone number and we’ll figure out the details after I get off work tonight.”

  I tried not to feel like I was taking charge. This woman was possibly old enough
to be my mother, but she seemed so lost and unsure of herself that I had to take initiative or else we were going to get interrupted by a customer. Fortunately, she quickly acquiesced and accepted a business card for the No-Name Coffeehouse with my number written on the back. As if that was the only thing holding her back, she thanked me profusely, her fervent whispers drawing an uncomfortable amount of attention, before excusing herself to go pick Jeffrey up from her mother’s. She quite reasonably hadn’t wanted him to have to sit through the funeral arrangements.

  She left me wallowing in undeserved guilt. I knew, objectively, that telling her what happened to her husband would be a bad idea, that his death was probably unavoidable and necessary, and that I had done very little to contribute to it. Esti was to blame if anyone, and I’d already concluded that I couldn’t fault her for what she’d done, so I guess that left myself. Oh, I could have blamed Zackary Orkin for his own death, but what happened to him… I didn’t feel like it was really justice. It may have been necessary, but I wished it could have happened a different way.

  I was worried about Jeffrey too. I didn’t know how old he was and knew very little about child psychology in general, but it did seem like he was a little too old to have an imaginary friend. His father may well have been an abuser, but there’d been something between him and his son — I still remembered the look of mingled rage and shame Zackary had given me as he embraced his son. It was entirely possible Jeffrey was young enough that he didn’t really understand his father’s actions and missed him enough to create an imaginary person to help fill the gap left by his absence.

  It almost felt good just to be able to worry about people for regular, everyday human problems, and not be questioning my grip on reality or wondering which neighbor might turn out to be a supernatural entity.

  I swear, eventually I would stop being so naïve.

  Chapter Six

  The following week and a half seemed to take pains to remind me how much more complicated people could make things. I called Dad because I finally had news I could tell him that I didn’t have to filter for supernatural content, but I wound up having to convince him that I wasn’t taking on too much work by offering to babysit and tutor Jeffrey as well as keep my part time job. He was excessively paranoid about me becoming overloaded and jeopardizing my dream of joining the medical profession. Not without reason, I suppose. I’d had problems with depression when I was younger, pushing myself through schooling, skipping grades and never spending enough time in one place to make friends. The few recreational activities I’d taken on had mostly ended in even greater stress, as I had trouble connecting with people my own age and being taken seriously by more mature people. With how badly burnt out I had constantly been, Dad had started trying to get me to take life a little slower.

  In the end I convinced him that I could handle it. I felt pretty good about the rest of my exams, and once I finished them, I’d have almost an entire month to relax when I wasn’t working. I wasn’t fond of being idle for long and he knew it. Besides, after the end of the semester, Cassie and Jesse would be going back home until the next break and that would leave the house significantly quieter. Well, Esti had suggested ways we could liven it up, but I wasn’t about to tell Dad what she’d had in mind. That was almost as unlikely as me admitting that I kind of hoped she was serious.

  The next objection came from an unexpected source. Since it turned out Sophia lived further north of Seattle in the Mountlake Terrace area and I wasn’t fond of long trips by bus, I asked if Esti would be willing to give me rides if I paid gas money. She was willing, but voiced a protest I hadn’t anticipated: “I won’t stop you from doing it, but it is a bad idea. What you know could get us both in trouble and hurt this family a lot in the process if they suspect you had something to do with what happened to Officer Asshole.”

  I winced as much from her profanity as her warning. “I’ll be careful,” I promised, the words sounding inadequate even to my ears.

  Esti shrugged. “You’re the one I worry about more,” she said, cupping my cheek in her hand. “It’d be a shame for something to happen just as I’m making up my mind about whether or not I want to pursue you.”

  I swallowed thickly. My throat seemed to have dried up the instant she touched me. “You keep saying things like that and you’ll make it hard to tell when you’re teasing or not,” I breathed. Esti laughed and slid away so quickly that I had trouble even ‘seeing’ it.

  “Maybe that’s something we should revisit while we have the house to ourselves for the next month,” she said, then blew me a kiss and walked away, calling over her shoulder, “Let me know when you’ve got a schedule planned out for this thing.”

  I nodded dumbly, then, realizing she didn’t have the advantage of seeing over her shoulder like I did, managed to articulate something approximating agreement. The impulsive part of me suddenly begrudged having a full week of classes and exams left to go. The rest of me simply wondered… was it even safe to have this kind of interest in someone who was, for all intents and purposes, a succubus?

  At last it was the 19th and classes were officially concluded. From what I knew already thanks to grades being posted or could guess from how confident I was in my exam results, it was another successful semester with high marks and my GPA would probably be at or near 3.9. I cooked dinner for the house as a celebration — salmon wellington, consisting of salmon steaks blanketed in a mixture of cheese and spinach and wrapped in puff pastry. It took a little while to prepare and bake, but the result was a delicate collage of creamy flavors and flakey textures which seemed to go over well with everyone. For once, I didn’t mind the suggestive moans Esti made as she savored the dish.

  She came to my room that night while I was going through my textbooks, trying to decide which ones to keep and which to try and sell back to the bookstore. Esti stood in the doorway for a bit before I realized she was watching and looked up from my desk laden with overpriced books. My exasperation must have shown, but I was tired and had been having no luck looking up trade prices online. None of the sites were formatted well for my screen reader and I was having a hard time finding any results for the books. It was nights like tonight that made me want to hate computers.

  “Is now a bad time to talk?” Esti asked, eyebrows lifting as she took in my state of pique.

  I dropped my microbiology textbook with a soft thud and closed the netbook. “Now is a fantastic time to talk. About anything. Puppies. Garish purple toys. Politics.”

  “I’m impressed sex toys wound up on your list. I must be rubbing off on you. You even manage to sound irritated, and I wasn’t sure you were physically capable of it.” She smiled softly, coming in to stand behind me. “Would a backrub help?”

  “Probably not. Your touch tends to create tension, not relieve it.” Not that I’d admit how much of an uncharacteristic craving I had for it. Even after two sexual adventures with her—or because of them—I wasn’t sure where we stood. I swiveled in my chair to face her, hoping I wasn’t blushing too much. “What did you need to talk about?”

  Esti sat on my bed, her manner strangely subdued. She looked around a minute, eyes never quite settling on me. At last she said, “I was wondering if you’d put any thought into what you’d want out of a relationship with me if we were to get together.”

  I froze, certain I had misheard. “Together? As in—“

  I meant to continue, but the words twisted and slid away from me, leaving me speechless. She took it as a complete thought, although there was more I would have said if I could get my brain to cooperate.

  “Together-together, whatever that word means to you. I know we’ve talked about it before, but now you know a bit more about me and why I can’t let just anyone throw their heart at me.” Esti’s mannerism was almost blithe, as if she didn’t share the significance her words had upon me. I shook my head, but she didn’t see it. Her gaze was now fixed on the wall, where I had a poster of Ava in her Olympics uniform triumphantly holding a
fistful of gold medals by their ribbons, taken during the medal ceremony. Esti’s eyes absently roamed the picture, as if determined to avoid me.

  “I’m interested in trying, if you are, but…”

  The words cut into me like a knife into room-temperature butter, with all the sweetness and the steel of both. I found the words in my mind again and forced my tongue to give shape to them. “But what?” I managed to prompt, feeling dread and hope curdling my stomach.

  Esti shrugged and cast a sidelong gaze in my direction, a thin smile curling her lip. “There’s something I didn’t tell you before that might make you think differently about me. About any possibility of having an ‘us.’ I told you I feed on people’s energy, but I didn’t really tell you why.”

  I licked my lips. It sounded uncomfortably like Esti was trying to talk herself out of this, not me, but I tilted my head questioningly, inviting her to continue. With that same odd smile, she tilted her head up and addressed the ceiling. “See, technically, being a demon has nothing to do with feeding off people; that’s just kind of a side effect. When demons reproduce, they pass on some of their demonic essence, and inheriting that is what makes someone a demon or not.

  “But essence is unstable. Instead of going through puberty when they hit their teen years, a demon enters a period where their essence starts to break down like a chemical reaction, releasing a lot of power in the process. This is where a demon gets their special abilities, but it also means they have to start adding more fuel to their essence, feeding off other people to help keep it from going what we call ‘inert’ or ‘null.’ If that happens, the demon is still technically a demon, but they lose all their powers and can’t feed off people anymore. It’s permanent, as far as anyone knows.”

  She paused. It took me a second to realize that she was looking for a sign of acknowledgement. I had missed this cue so many times that I practically had to train myself to notice it. “Which is why you feed off of people. So you don’t lose your powers.”