Dead End Diner: Book one

by Bea Biddle

  "No," he said, "Out walking." Her shivering annoyed him, why would she be out in this cold wearing only a tank top? He sighed in irritation and took off his coat, wrapping it around her shoulders. There, that should stop her.

  Karen didn't know how to react to that, her mind was blurred. She wanted to like it, she wanted to appreciate the gesture. But she was also still a little drunk, and therefore stupid. "You- you don't even like humans!" she spat. She had had a lot of time thinking over every single one of his action, everything he had said. It was annoying how often he ran through her head. ”You don't like humans at all. Why would you put yourself in New York of all places if you don't like humans?”

  He grunted at her. "Go home, sleep it off."

  "Oh no, no, no, no. You are going to talk to me!" Karen yelled. She knew that whenever a drunk woman decides to throw away dignity and modesty to give way to anger and outrage, the sober little girl inside of her sits back, puts up her feet, pulls out the popcorn and presses record, making sure every nasty detail is revisable for the mental hangover the following day. Karen's little girl had only just pressed record. And Karen was fully aware of that, but she still couldn't stop.

  "Seriously, I think it might be best for you to just go home."

  Karen was also aware that shouting in the street was a bad idea, but this was New York, someone had to do it. "Cef, I have questions!" Karen yelled, "And you can't leave before you've answered at least some of them."

  Puzzled, he raised his eyebrows at her and tried very hard not to laugh at the little woman pointing an angry finger at him, threatening him. Him of all people. He almost found her courage endearing. “Oh?”

  "You know what you are? Do you?" she hissed, "You're one of those attention seeking people, yeah, you just want to be mysterious all the time, when in reality, you're just a boring, old Demon."

  "Really?" That was an absurd statement. Cef snorted. What human had ever called a Demon boring?

  "Yeah. It's like- it's like people on Facebook," she sneered, "People on Facebook who write status updates saying how horrible the world is and how sad or hurt they are and how everything is shit. Of course, people comment on it, asking if they're Ok and if they need to talk. Of course, they do." She threw her arms in the air for emphasis. "But the first person only replies, and hours later I might add, that she doesn't want to talk about it on Facebook. Are you fucking kidding me? Why the fuck would you fucking put it in your fucking status then?" Karen was on a roll and didn't realize the confused expression on Cef's face. "I mean, don't we all have people on Facebook who pull that stupid fucking stunt every time they want a bit of attention? It's worse than having to scroll through countless baby pictures. I mean, do I really need to see twenty pictures of the same kid, doing the same thing, in the same place, every fucking day? Does anyone?" Karen shook her head at the question. She was silent for a few seconds, while catching her breath, then realized she had completely lost track of what she was going on about. "I mean, am I wrong?" she asked him, suddenly much calmer. "Maybe I should just quit Facebook, what do you think?"

  Cef gave her a long stare. "What is Facebook?" he asked eventually.

  "Right. Of course." Karen nodded weakly, patting his arm. "Why don't we go over that another time?" Her pats slowed. She couldn't help it. He had been wearing only a t-shirt under his coat and his hard arm felt hot under her palm. Her mind was fuzzy, her body betrayed her as her hand began stroking his skin tenderly on its own accord. She tried stopping herself, she really did, but he was just so big, so brawny. She had never had her hands on quite such a man before. "You- uh, you're- uhm. Well, you're really..." She trailed off, still feeling up his arm, trying to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat.

  Cef watched the little human touch him. Felt the smile spread on his face, unable to stop it. That was interesting. She stroked him like one might stroke a pet, but he still did not stop her. Interesting, and very, very strange. ”Yes?”

  She looked up into his face and stifled a groan. He was smiling down at her, his face bathed in shadows in the darkened street, black eyes glinting under lowered brows. He looked just like the satyr she had left back in the shower and the memories came flooding back to her. She really hoped that Demons couldn't read minds, because at that moment she was unable to keep images from her latest fantasy flashing in her head, while the object of it stood right in front of her. She blushed furiously, something that only made his grin widen. He made her feel fuzzier than the alcohol had. "You're- you're quite hard," she squeaked, immediately wishing she hadn't, as she gave his arm a final pat. He raised one eyebrow at her, his smile mischievous, a dangerous spark in his eyes, and she instantly knew what he was thinking. Because it was the exact same thing as her. Fuck. Embarrassed as she was, she still couldn't stop her own smile from spreading as their gazes locked. Briefly, the air between them sizzled inexplicably. She blamed the alcohol, and the warm coat, and then the alcohol again. But there was no point in blaming anything, she was lost, lost in his stupid, dumb, viciously handsome face.

  But then his expression grew serious, harsh. His eyes narrowed, brows lowered, and his nostrils flared. She almost stepped back from him, her sexy satyr gone in an instant, replaced by anger, but she had no time to do so. He grabbed her shoulders, pushed her to the side. She tumbled backward, her shoes slipping on the wet steps. With a scream, she fell down the stairs and landed in a heap, wrapped in his large coat, at Road Rage's entrance.

  She sat up, furious and frantic. She was going to scream at him. What kind of behavior was that? She could have gotten seriously hurt. But the split second after, a large bulky newcomer slammed straight into Cef, pinning him into the brick wall behind him. The open coat he was wearing blew in the wind, making it impossible for Karen to see what was really going on in the dark. Suddenly the man was thrown back and Cef broke free. He held the man by the throat, throwing him down the street with such force that Karen feared for the street rather than the man.

  He crashed into a streetlight, bending it at the base. The light flickered and went out, leaving part of the street in total darkness. The man took no time getting back on his feet. He snorted in a harsh laugh and shook his head. His dark fedora covered half of his face, but Karen could have sworn she saw his eyes flashing with vicious humor. With a growl, he charged at Cef again, his shoulder crashing into his chest, and hammered him into a nearby parked car. Leaving Cef in a deep dent in the hood. The car alarm blared loudly.

  With a roar, Cef pushed himself off the car and jumped back on the street. With a punch through the hood of the car, he broke through, pulling out wires. The alarm stopped.

  A strange sound rang out instead. A strange, raspy, unfamiliar sound. The sound of metal nails being scraped along a chalkboard, the sound of a million knives and forks scraping on plates. It came from the newly arrived man. He was speaking. Speaking to Cef. For a moment, Cef's expression changed, doubt flickered in his eyes. The man laughed, a horrible, twisted sound that made her wince, and charged again, fists raised to strike.

  Karen felt frozen in time, she couldn't move. She could only watch in fear from her place on the ground, hiding down the stairs. It came to her that she had never seen a real live fight before, she quickly decided that she would have been able to live without this one as well. Cef caught the newcomer's fists in his hands and shoved him back. Both men started circling each other. That foreign sound, that horrible screeching, was now coming from Cef, and Karen understood that it was his mother tongue. She had no idea it would be so different, so alien.

  A gust of wind blew the fedora away, the man's horns glinted in the sparse light. Longer than Cef's, lying back, they were almost flat against his skull tangled in the long hair that whipped around his face. His broad smirk made her uneasy. Cef's fierce but worried expression more so. The man reached out for the broken street light and yanked it out of the ground. Karen stifled a gasp, she had never seen anything like it. He struck out, throwing it around him like an oversized w
eapon.

  Cef jumped out of the way just in time, stumbled back and landed on the asphalt next to several trash cans. He picked one up, the metal lid fell off with a clang, trash cascaded down to the ground. With a grunt he hurled it. The other man knocked it out of the air with his pole. The next trashcan took him by surprise, struck him straight in the face. He lost his grip on the light, it clattered to the ground.

  It didn't bother the newcomer at all. He smirked again, dangerous and arrogantly, reaching inside his trench coat. The black blade he withdrew made Karen's heart beat in her throat. It was too big to be a dagger, too short to be a sword, but looked more dangerous wielded in his hands than any she had ever seen before. Even in the darkness, Karen could see it was a deep, deep black, the strange metal shining red where the light reflected in the blade. He charged once more, the blade singing as it cut through the air.

  Cef sprang back, picked up the last of the trashcans by his side, using it as a shield. Trash rained down on him when the weapon sliced through the metal as if it was butter. The other Demon continued slicing, swinging the blade from side to side, Cef dodged left and right. He couldn't continue like that. The Demon came too close, sliced too close. He scanned the surroundings for a weapon, any at all. Found none. It was too late. The blade found its mark, a straight cut into his side. With an enraged growl, he ducked once more, missing the blade by a hair, but then fell, stumbled backward and landed on the ground. His blood splattered on the asphalt.

  The Demon roared victoriously when he knew he had won. He raised the blade one more time, savoring Cef on his knees in front of him. His lips drew back in a snarl as he laughed at him, sneering words that Karen couldn't understand at him, but she had no trouble deciphering the tone. He was gloating. She had to do something, anything. She had to help somehow.

  She scrambled up the steps, desperately looking around for help. She found the trashcans. Trashcans! Cef had done alright with trashcans. They were pretty sturdy. She reached for the metal lid by her feet and yelled out, "Hey!"

  The man turned with a bewildered snarl. His attention on Karen. Without a chance to second-guess her plan, she spun the lid at him like a frisbee. It didn't hit him. It wasn't even close. But it did give Cef enough time, he ground his teeth and jumped up, both arms around the man, forcing him back against the wall. The weapon fell to the ground. But Cef wasn't done. With a final grunt, he picked up the startled Demon and slammed him into the ground, head first. Karen heard the neck break as clearly as if she was standing next to them. The crack rang out like a bell in the now silent street.

  And then she vomited.

  Cef was out of breath. His body shaking. He dropped to his knees with a tired sigh. Karen was wary about approaching the scene but wiped her mouth and did it anyway. "Is he- Is he dead?" she asked. She already knew the answer. He was lifeless, just lying on the road. His neck bent in a way no neck should be able to.

  Cef said nothing as she approached him. She surprised him by reaching her hand out to him, offering to help him up. He surprised himself by taking it. He was tired, it had been too long since he sparred with a Demon able to match him. Way too long. He remembered the gash deep in his flesh. He was losing blood. Too much blood. He needed to lie down to recover, but he didn't have the luxury. "He is dead," Cef stated weakly, his body leaning against Karen. How humiliating, leaning on a human as if he couldn't walk by himself.

  "What do we do now?" Karen asked. She didn't know much about killing people, but she had seen enough crime shows to know that you can't leave a dead body just lying around. Especially one with such long horns sticking out of his head. And the street looked a mess, as if a tornado had been through. There would definitely be questions.

  "He will disappear.”

  ”Disappear? What do-?”

  ”Don't ask questions, just get out of here,” he breathed out the command, tried pushing off her. He couldn't. Damn, he needed time, time to recover. But they couldn't stay there.

  Karen suddenly remembered as well. "You're hurt," she pointed out, eyeing up the bloody shirt he was wearing. It was impossible to tell just where the blood was coming from, it was everywhere.

  "It's nothing," he grunted. ”You need to get out of here.”

  "Nothing my ass. Come on." She straightened her stance, wrapped his heavy arm around her shoulders and huffing and puffing, managed a few steps, wobbling down the sidewalk, away from the contorted body behind them.

  "You really need to go, they'll be here soon," he repeated, "You have to get out of here."

  "Aha," she agreed with a nod, "That's what we're doing, getting out of here."

  He groaned. "I need a coffee."

  "You need to tell me where you live so I can get you there. Also, we need Sly and his magic healing touch, or whatever it is he does to heal you. Do you have a phone? How do we get in touch with him?"

  Cef grunted. "No. No Sly. You need to go home to your place. I need to go home to mine." He pushed off her, walked a few wobbly steps before wavering, finding he had to lean on the wall next to him for support. Clutching his side, the blood gushed through his fingers.

  Throwing her hands in the air with a loud annoyed groan, Karen stomped after him. She had had enough. Enough of that night, enough of dumb, stubborn Demons, enough of drinking. She wrapped his arm around her shoulder once again and told him to shut up when he tried to argue. ”Look, you're dripping blood all over the place. Just fucking tell me where you live, and I'll get you there. Now isn't really the time to be a stupid, stubborn, human hater.” Putting one foot in front of the other, under the heavy weight of him, she slowly but steadily, began walking down the sidewalk again.

  Cef didn't argue that time.

  five.

  ”And this is it?"

  A grunt and a nod from Cef confirmed it. That last step almost broke her. It was bad enough having to be a crutch for a heavy Demon, but the fact that he just had to live on the top floor of an old building, without any elevators, was the one that really got to her. The surroundings suited him though, old and run down, the perfect place to live if you wanted to hide from people.

  His door was unlocked, Karen was about to point that out when Cef walked through as if it was normal. Perhaps it was. Maybe a Demon didn't need to have a lock on his door? Maybe his mere presence was enough to scare off potential thieves.

  "I lost the key," Cef breathed, "The locksmith is coming to fix it."

  "I see," Karen said, a little disappointed, and packed away the theories in her brain.

  She wasn't sure what she had expected to see behind the door. Perhaps a grand place, marble floors, lots of shiny sculptures and black velvet chairs where he'd lounge about sipping expensive wine while polishing his horns. Or maybe rock and free-flowing lava, fire and brimstone. Several different possibilities flashed in her mind. And yet, nothing prepared her for what she saw.

  "I wasn't expecting company," Cef grunted. "I haven't cleaned." His gruff voice made her feel as if it was her fault for intruding on his privacy. And she felt bad.

  "It's alright," she whispered, more to herself than to him. It was a simple studio apartment, smaller than even her place, and that was a feat in its own. Fridge, sink, and a few cupboards in the corner. Through an open door, next to a tiny dresser, in the back, she spotted an old tired toilet, and a shower above an old beat up tub. That bathroom made her own seem luxurious. The bed dominated the room, shoved up against the wall, it was covered in sheets, pillows, and blankets, none of which went together. He had bottles and pots standing around randomly, filled with water, the roof must have been leaking. The wallpaper was coming off, stained as it was, exposing brick walls. The wooden floor was uneven, there were large gaps between ill-fitting planks, the boards stuck up in a few places, and it creaked loudly when Cef moved around. She could hear the neighbors, she could practically hear everything that went on in the building as if it all happened in that very room. The place was an absolute dump. Even worse than her own place.


  But in spite of the lack of upkeep, it was tidy and semi-clean. No cockroaches or other bugs crawling around. That made her breathe a little easier. Although, it did smell like- like- Karen struggled to find a word that would fit. Chemicals? Acid? No. Paint, that was it. It smelled like paint. She looked around for the source. She didn't need to. Half the apartment was filled with painting supplies, tubes of every color scattered across the floor. Cef quickly whipped a large stained sheet over the bulk of it, kicking a few stray paint tubes under the sheet with an exasperated sigh.

  "It's none of your business," he answered her unvoiced question and walked over to a window. For such a small place the windows were incredibly large, filling up the entire wall. He opened the middle one, letting the cool night breeze flow into the room, thankfully taking away the paint smell. Sirens were heard in the distance, and then not so distant. Shouting, laughter, car horns blaring, throbbing music, every sound of New York made its way through the window.

  "So," Karen started. She was standing in the doorway feeling awkward and small, not knowing where to go from there. Suddenly she didn't feel very confident in her decision to help him home, instead, she felt like an eager puppy that had followed a man dumb enough to throw it a crumb. "So, Demons do actually sleep." She tried keeping the tone light as she motioning to the bed he had sat down on. He grunted again and began kicking off his boots. The silence was heavy and uncomfortable. She wondered if he felt it, too. It was then she realized she knew absolutely nothing about Demons. Did they eat? She had never seen him eat. Did they drink? He obviously drank coffee. Did they go to the toilet? Exactly how old are you? She growled when she caught herself wondering if they had reproductive organs like humans? She knew it was a stupid thought, he looked so human after all. Maybe they were cold-blooded, though? She smiled at the thought. No, he was warm-blooded. The feel of him pressed up against her in the blood cellar was still so fresh in her mind. And she enjoyed that memory too much sometimes.