5.0 - Light Of The Stygian Orb

by Krista Walsh

  But then Molly had shared her guilt over killing that useless incubus demon, Antony, and laid out the picture of her stalking the streets at night trying to stumble upon some new otherworldly monster. He could have accepted her going to someone else for help — no matter what she said about contacts, he doubted she knew anyone who’d be willing to open his yap about the secrets of the otherworld — but he couldn’t let her step unknowingly into that world without having an idea of how to face it.

  And he believed she would take that step. By the tremor in her lips and the shaking of her fingers, he recognized that she didn’t believe it herself yet, but a few months from now, she would feel the urge to explore again. Only he wouldn’t be around to get her out of the mess she might find herself in.

  So, fine, he could delay his leaving for one more night. Tomorrow, he would set off and find somewhere else to settle down. New alleys to make his own.

  Ahead of him, Molly shifted on her feet, angling her head to take in the sounds from the main street behind her and the rustling of a raccoon in the garbage cans to her left.

  He had to admit he was impressed by how well she’d held up against the ghouls. She was far from trained, but her natural instincts were strong, and she showed great potential for learning how to fight them back without trouble.

  Stop it, he told himself. For a fleeting moment, he’d imagined himself teaching her. If she was determined to step where she didn’t belong, at least she should know how to stay alive.

  But thoughts like that would only lead to trouble. For one thing, he didn’t have the time or patience to deal with teaching a human girl everything it would take to protect herself. But more than that, he had to stay on his own. It was the only way he could be sure to keep himself safe as well as the people around him. He would allow her one conversation, but that was it.

  “Here,” he said.

  Automatically, she reached her hand out, palm up, and he laid the cane across it. She wheeled it through her fingers until the tip rested against the ground, and then she stepped forward, waiting for him to tell her where they were going.

  “Follow me,” he said, and turned on his heel toward the alleyway. Then he stopped. How was she supposed to follow him? She couldn’t see him. Should he make noises as he walked so she could track the sound? He scowled at the thought of whistling as he walked. He didn’t whistle.

  Feeling awkward and uncomfortable, and fighting down the anger that arose at feeling awkward and uncomfortable, Zach reached back to take her free hand and rested it on his arm.

  “Be careful where you step,” he said. “When ghouls die, their bodies fall apart and melt into puddles of decomposition. It washes off easily enough, but it can be slippery if you’re not expecting it.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  He glanced at her face to try to gauge the tone in which the gratitude had been offered, but her expression was neutral. In the dim light of the parking lot, he couldn’t make out much more than the glint of a distant streetlight in her eyes, creating shadows on her pale skin and messy mop of hair. Everything about her screamed vulnerability, and he hated that he’d once again been put into the position of guarding the weak.

  He couldn’t guarantee that he was up to the job.

  As they made their way out of the parking lot and into the alley, he kept his eyes peeled for Karl or any of his minions following them, but the streets were quiet now. Had the bumbling creature outside his apartment even noticed that Zach had left?

  He realized that despite his scorn, he’d allowed Karl to worm his way into his thoughts, making him paranoid. With a scowl, he shook off his concern. If the demon came for him again, he’d deal with it.

  “Watch the curb,” he said to Molly as they stepped out of the alley and onto a quiet side street.

  All of the windows that had glowed with flickering television light had gone dark. It was one of the unexpected perks he’d discovered of living in the suburbs. When he’d first moved here, Zach had believed it would be difficult to blend in with the shadows and keep out of sight, but the truth was that most of the families here were in for the night by nine o’clock, lights-out by eleven, giving him greater freedom than he’d had in the busier downtown core.

  “There’s a crack in the sidewalk here,” he warned, and nodded his approval as Molly stepped over it.

  “You don’t need to do that,” she said.

  “It’s not like you can see them,” he grumbled. “You’ll trip and fall, then I’ll have to cart you back to my place so your parents don’t catch you bleeding everywhere. That’s not the best way for either of us to make use of our time.”

  She snorted a laugh. “I didn’t reach sixteen years old without taking a few tumbles, but I get by pretty well on my own. You don’t need to coddle me.”

  A black wave of irritation swept over him. “I was only trying to help.”

  Molly gave him an unsteady smile. “And it means a lot to me that you were, but I’m capable of taking care of myself.” She paused, and he guessed that both of their thoughts had returned to the fight in the alley. “Most of the time. I can walk down the street just fine, anyway.”

  Feeling somewhat mollified, he left the navigation of the cemented pitfalls to Molly’s instincts and her cane as they wound their way through the streets and the alleys to the college.

  “Where are we?” Molly asked as she passed through the side door.

  He held it open for her, then stepped inside and made sure the door was locked before leading her toward the stairs.

  “The old New Haven Trade College,” he said.

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “Not surprising. It’s been closed for six years, so it’s just sitting here, waiting for the city to figure out what to do with it. I’d guess the only people who think about it anymore are the alumni and the city counselors who wish they could tear it down.”

  “Hello!” Molly called, and raised her eyebrows as her voice reverberated across the wide corridor and bounced back to her.

  Zach cast a quick look through the window to his left to make sure her call hadn’t drawn attention from his stalkers.

  “It sounds like a big place,” she said, dropping the volume of her voice a few decibels. “No one else uses it?”

  “They try from time to time, but they don’t get to stay long. The cops don’t want people turning the place into a crack house or a squatter’s den.”

  “Then how are you here?”

  “I’m smart.”

  Her head jerked back in surprise, then she gave him another smile, this one far more conspiratorial.

  He was amazed at her courage. Here she was, alone with an otherworldly being in the middle of the night after fighting off a band of ghouls, yet she seemed more interested in the fact that he’d outwitted the police.

  Fearless.

  He hoped the trait didn’t get her killed.

  Although he’d obeyed her request to let her navigate her own way through the streets, his concern increased as they stepped down the stairs toward the boiler room. Aside from all the rusted clutter, he’d installed more traps throughout the area to keep out the unknowing and unwary. More were set up along the hallway beyond the hidden passageway, with a few on the upper levels as well. Anything to keep people out of his space.

  The ones in the boiler room were simple and in need of an upgrade — like the empty paint cans to the right that were set to tumble a bucket of nails overhead if they were dislodged — but would be enough to hurt her if she set one off. Then he’d have to rush her to the hospital and explain how she’d injured herself. He imagined frantic parents and curious doctors, neither of which he wanted or needed to deal with right now.

  Yet as he watched her, she rounded the objects in her path as though she had been here a thousand times.

  The sight spurred a slew of questions, but he kept them to himself as he led her through the door in the corner of the boiler room into the space of his makeshift apartment
.

  The stove was still going, keeping the temperature in the room comfortable despite the chill outside.

  “Stay here for a minute, and I’ll figure out somewhere you can sit,” he said.

  As he stepped away from her, Molly turned in a slow circle, as though taking in all the information of the space around her.

  Dusty brushed against her shins, and she jumped at the sudden contact.

  “Just a cat,” Zach said.

  Keeping her hand out for balance, Molly crouched down. The kitten tentatively approached her outstretched fingers, her fuzzy head twitching and jerking back as her nose touched skin. Deciding the girl was no threat, Dusty began to purr and pushed her head against Molly’s hand. The sudden change in pressure shifted Molly’s footing, but she caught herself and laughed, stroking her fingers along Dusty’s spine.

  “What’s his name?” she asked.

  “Dusty.”

  “That’s an awful name. It makes him sound all dirty.”

  “You can’t see how filthy she is.”

  He bit his tongue, wondering if he’d been rude, then realized he didn’t care. She was the one barging into his life, so why should he worry about pushing her away? That was what he wanted.

  “No,” Molly said, “but I can feel that she’s sleek and…okay, maybe completely covered in dust.” She wiped her hand on her shirt and rose to her feet as the kitten approached Zach and meowed at him for more food. Zach cursed himself for not grabbing something on the way.

  Out of guilt, he moved to the shelf in the corner where he kept his emergency stores. He pulled free a strip of beef jerky from its packaging, broke it into small bits, and left it on the floor for Dusty to peruse. The purrs started even before the kitten reached her dinner.

  Zach dragged a second wooden crate across the floor and set it beside the one he used as his own chair. After a moment’s consideration, he slid it closer to the stove, figuring the human would need the heat more than he did. Once he felt certain that everything was as good as it could be, he guided Molly to her seat.

  She found her balance on the wobbly box, brushed her fingers over the surface of the wooden slats, then continued her exploration toward his tattered copy of Plato’s Republic that was sitting on a low end table beside her.

  “I wouldn’t have taken you for a book guy,” she said.

  He glanced toward the half-dozen books stacked next to his bed, courtesy of the public library and his nightly scavenging. “I don’t know if you’re in a place to be making any assumptions about me.”

  She tilted her head toward him as she picked up the book and flipped the pages from cover to cover. The reverence with which she handled the pages gave her away as a fellow reader. “What sort of things do you read?”

  “Whatever I want. Aristotle, Camus, Patterson.”

  She grinned. “That’s quite the range.”

  Zach shrugged. “As far as I see it, it’s just a bunch of old white guys sharing their thoughts about how the world works as though it applies to everyone. But it helps pass the time.”

  “It seems like you lead a pretty interesting life,” she said. She set the book down and returned her tactile attention to the edge of the crate she was sitting on. “How long have you been here?”

  “I crossed town about the same time you did. It made more sense to stick close if I was going to be keeping an eye on you.”

  Molly stretched her hands toward the stove and rubbed her palms together. “You know, some people might think that was creepy, considering you’re more than — what? Twice my age?”

  He listened for any kind of discomfort in her voice, but heard only amusement, and the smiling twitch at the corner of her lips removed some of his own uneasiness. He’d never suffered another person in his space, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

  “You know my purpose, and that’s all that matters. If I wanted anyone else’s opinions about my choices, I’d get a job and rent a nice apartment somewhere. But I don’t want to hear what people think of me or the way I live. So here I am, sitting on crates, keeping my scavenged food warm over a gas stove, and eating it off broken dishes.”

  “Do you like it like that?”

  Zach realized his tone had come off bitter, when he hadn’t meant it to be. He’d crafted the kind of life he needed.

  “I don’t see that liking factors into it,” he said. “It just is the way it is.”

  Molly appeared to chew on that for a while as she worked the chill out of her arms.

  “Do you drink coffee?” he asked.

  “Not if I want to get any sleep later,” she said. Then a shiver ran through her, and she propped her elbow on her knee, resting her chin in her palm. “But maybe a small cup wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

  Zach started more water on the stove and heaped a single scoop of coffee into the cracked French press. Tomorrow, he would take the dishes out and give them a rinse under the neighbor’s outdoor hose. It wasn’t a great system, but it worked to keep the cups from growing mold.

  “So what exactly is it that you’re hoping to learn here?” Zach asked.

  Molly pulled her fleece jacket closer around her neck. “If I said ‘everything,’ would that make you run with terror?”

  “‘Everything’ would take a few centuries to explain, and I don’t have that kind of time.”

  “All right, then how about we limit it to you being here. Not just you, of course, but all of you. Like Daphne and Gabe and Vera — how is it that this world is full of fantastical creatures and no one knows about it?”

  Heat ignited under Zach’s skin, and he exhaled slowly, reminding himself that she was an ignorant child looking to learn. For now, he would overlook her insults.

  “First off,” he said, “you won’t make a lot of friends if you go around calling us creatures. We’re not animals. Most of us. Second of all, more people know about us than you think. Just because people in your circles have been walking around with their eyes closed, doesn’t mean everyone has.”

  “Eyes closed?” Molly asked, tilting her face toward him.

  “You know what I mean,” Zach replied, realizing he would need to be just as mindful of his words as he expected her to be about hers.

  This is a horrible idea, he thought as he poured the boiling water into the French press to let the coffee steep.

  “Fine, I’m sorry about the creatures thing,” she said, letting his comment pass. “I just have a hard time putting together the idea of a daemelus with someone who looks, talks, and acts human. How do you look like us?”

  He cringed at her casual use of the word daemelus, hating the term that had been thrust upon him by Jermaine, as though he believed he knew more about Zach’s nature than Zach himself. But if he interrupted their lesson over every poor word choice, he would never be able to leave the city. He let the term slide and focused on her question.

  “The leading theory is that it’s a genetic quirk. Based on the information our cells pick up from the environment around us, we take on the form of the dominant species in the area. On Earth, since everything we need to survive is usually in an urban center, we appear human. On top of that, enough interspecies breeding has gone on that, for some, their human appearance is as natural as yours.”

  Molly frowned. “What do the rest of you actually look like, the ones without human genes?”

  Zach scowled. He didn’t like thinking about what lay under the surface of his skin. “Depends on my mood.”

  The girl fell silent, and he wasn’t sure if he’d frightened her or if she was processing what he’d said.

  In an effort to smooth the way, wanting to get as many of her questions answered as quickly as he could, he kept talking. “That applies to most demons in different ways. Allegra, for example, is a succubus, which means she not only takes on the shape of the dominant species, but an ideal version of it.”

  Molly sighed. “She must be beautiful.”

  “More beautiful than any other woman I know, and
twice as deadly.”

  “What about Gabe?” she asked. “Is he really a descendant of Medusa?”

  Zach grunted, and the sound made him realize how unfamiliar he was with human conversation. How long had it been since he’d sat down and exchanged dialog with another being? The muscles in his back stiffened as he realized it was nine months ago, when he’d been sitting around the table in Jermaine’s locked room.

  “He claims to be,” he said, shaking off his discomfort at how small his world had become. “The sunglasses he wears would suggest he has a reason to keep his eyes shielded. It’s possible that part of his genetic line would have left snakes in his hair, but those genes might have been blocked by his Fae blood, which, like the succubus, tend toward heightened attractiveness.”

  A flush crept up Molly’s neck, and he rolled his eyes. Even she had apparently been charmed by Gabriel’s roguish qualities. Zach wouldn’t mind smacking the Gorgon’s grin off his face if the opportunity ever arose.

  “But he’s not deadly,” Molly said.

  “Absolutely he is,” Zach snapped. “Don’t ever let yourself doubt it. Some of our kind were born to draw human attention, but even that quality is intended to lure people in. You ever hear the stories about changelings? Who do you think is behind that if it isn’t Gabe’s kin? Never trust anyone of the otherworld if you want to stay alive. We’re smart, quick, and strong. You wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  He expected to see her pale with fear, but instead she shrugged. “It doesn’t sound that much different than living among humans. You can never really trust anyone not to hurt you.”

  Zach felt the tension in his shoulders ease. This girl wasn’t stupid. At least she had that going for her.

  “So we’ve covered the fact that I’m surrounded by people who could snap and kill me at a moment’s notice,” Molly said, her fingers tapping on her knee with apparent unease at the revelation, “but where did you come from? Why are you here on Earth?”