by Bea Biddle
"Coffee?" she huffed out a little harsher than intended. "I'm afraid you're going to have to offer me something a little bit stronger after that confession." The words were tumbling from her lips and she barely had time to breathe. "What are you saying? That you're a Warchief? What? Sit down and explain this to me."
Cef sighed, his jaw clenched, and he found he could not look her in the eyes. The things he had done back then, the screams still haunted him when he tried to sleep, the hot, dusty memories he was trying to avoid. But that was all before, everything was different now. "I was Warchief back in Hell. And I was good at my job. I was the best. As long as I had been Warchief, throughout our supreme domination of Hell, the knowledge of the rift had been known to us. We also knew exactly where it led. Our army had been raised and preparing for hundreds of years to break through. We all grew up with the knowledge that one day, one day we would see this new land, one day we would claim this place to ourselves. Scouts had been sent through, always watching, observing, never interfering, and they came back with reports and stories of humans. Weaklings, fragile beings, they were no threat to us. We would walk all over you so easily. Earth would be ours. The new empire. Our future." Cef shook his head with a chuckle, the sadness reverberated in his deep voice. "Our glorious future."
Cef had a hard time believing he was revealing all this to a human, a mere human. He wanted to stop talking, wanted to shut up so he could bury the past exactly where it belonged. In the past. But Karen nodded at him, wide-eyed and curious, urging him to go on. "It all changed though," he heard himself continue before he realized he had started talking. "I made a decision. I don't know why I did it, but I did it, and it was a foolish decision. I made myself the very last scouting party before we marched. I wanted to be the one to clear the way, I wanted the glory of being the last to step foot on the virgin soil before we tore it to pieces. But when I did come through..." he trailed off, his voice heavy with regret. He hesitated, took a deep breath, steadying himself. "When I did come through, and I first saw what lay ahead of us, when I saw the city, saw what humans had built, what they had achieved in the time we had only been concerning ourselves with battle and bloodshed, I could not destroy this place. This place was beauty and life and wonders we've never had in our world, probably never will. Our world is death and chaos. This place, this place was so much more. Once we would have made our way through, once I would have led the armies through, it would all be rubble and destruction, swamped in the stench of death. I- I-" He shook his head again. "I could not let it happen. I could not let my people destroy this beautiful place."
"Really?" Karen squeaked. For some reason, out of everything he had said, she found that part the hardest to believe. She glanced out the window with skepticism painted on her face. ”You found New York beautiful? Really?” Tapping her fingers on the cup, she asked, “So, what did you do?”
Cef scratched his stubbly chin. "I didn't know what to do. I wandered for days, aimlessly, hiding, thinking of ways to stop them. But before I could do anything The Witches found me."
Karen raised an eyebrow at him. "Witches found you? There are Witches? Now I know you're just making this shit up."
"With everything you've seen so far, you doubt the existence of Witches?"
She scoffed at him. ”It's ridiculous.”
"Alyssa will be very sad to hear that."
Karen scoffed again, although a bit more unsure this time. What Cef was suggesting was absurd, even more absurd than the whole speech he just gave her about Hell. "Don't toy with me," she whispered, "If you're lying, tell me right now." Cef said nothing and Karen sighed in defeat. She couldn't stop believing him now, could she? She had believed him so far. "Alright, so Witches found you?"
Cef shook his head. "No, not just Witches, The Witches, the oldest coven on earth. They found me. They had felt the rift, feel the power that burst into your world when I came through. It is like a rift in the very fabric of existence. And I could feel their power, I knew they were creatures of magic. I knew it instantly. Then I did the only thing I could think of, I begged them. I begged them to close the rift behind me. I begged them to sever the connection between our worlds. Luckily, they knew what Demons would bring with them. They closed it.”
"The Witches closed the rift?" Karen asked. The coffee in her cup had gone completely cold and her fingers too. Cef nodded. "Let me get this straight, it takes a whole coven of Witches to close the rift, but only one Demon to open it up?"
"Actually, it takes two to open it," Cef explained. "One to perform the ritual, the other to have his throat sliced open and his blood drained. An offering to the ancient magic."
Karen shuddered. "So, you stayed? You didn't go back?"
"I could not go back. I would have been tortured to death. I went against orders," he said with a heavy sigh, "The Emperor would never have accepted that I lived after that. Besides, how could I leave these new sights? How could I leave this new wonderful world? It was a sacrifice I was happy to make."
Karen glanced at the paintings. "So you decided to paint what you saw?" Cef hesitated again but gave her an uncertain nod. Karen bit her lip tentatively, taking everything in, trying to digest as best as she could. "You know," she eventually said, "As backstories go, that's a good one. Pretty epic." She offered him a smile. She thought she saw his shoulders relax a bit at her words, but it was hard to tell.
"And you?" he then asked, sitting back in the creaky chair with more ease than before. She hated that she felt a flutter in her stomach at that, but she was ridiculously happy at the development. They were finally talking, finally having an actual conversation. She knew she should not be this excited about it, but she was.
She laughed with a dismissive shake of her head. "My backstory is not as interesting, I'm pretty normal. You know, average girl gets a job at a supernatural diner, the usual."
"I like normal.”
The corners of his mouth curved upwards when he looked at her and Karen felt the beginning of a blush coming. Pull yourself together woman! She coughed, trying to clear her head. "What do you actually do? What does security mean at the diner?"
”I make sure Weres and Vamps, the occasional Ghost, control themselves. I make sure they don't reveal themselves or cause harm to humans.” He emptied his cup and continued, “Our community has to stay hidden, the world would erupt in chaos otherwise. It's not ready to know, it probably never will be. It's a lot safer for everyone if we remain in the shadows.” He gave a halfhearted shrug. “They're a civilized bunch, our community, most of them anyway, but accidents happen. That's where I come in. As security. And how is your back by the way?"
"My- my back?"
"I was tracking Garth the night you ran into him. I was not allowed to interfere, and Alyssa was adamant you would come out alive. I was only there to make sure that you did."
Karen swallowed again, funny how many times she caught herself doing that when she was around him. "I didn't know," she said softly. She remembered how angry she had been when she found out Alyssa had been watching, but that felt like it had happened years ago, everything was different now. The world didn't make sense anymore. Well, it did. But it made a different sense than before. She scratched her forehead, trying to sort everything out in her head. The light flickered. "So..."
"Damn," Cef cut her off. They were now in darkness. The light had gone out. The coffee machine stopped. "It's alright," he assured her, "The building is old, the power cuts sometimes."
"Oh," was all Karen could say.
"Here, let me take that," he said and reached out for her cup, he could just about make out her shape in the sparse light from the street. Fully intending to merely take her cup from her, he folded his hand over hers.
She immediately felt the chills run up her arm. And he froze. His large palm on her hands. She thought she heard his sharp intake of breath but couldn't be sure. His hand smoothed over hers, his fingers slowly touching her skin that tingled from his touch. She couldn't help but to
compare the touch to Sylvester's who had done the same, but where Sylvester was silky smooth and ice cold, Cef's calloused, big hand felt rough and hard. She stifled a sigh. He was warm, so wonderfully warm. And real, so solid. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a tiny uncertain voice asked her why she wasn't comparing him to Colin at all. But she didn't listen to it, she couldn't listen to it, it was drowning in a strange, hazy cloud that settled in her head, an odd feeling she had tried suppressing all evening.
The light coming off the building across the street shone in through the window. She could see the outline of his face, his eyes reflected in the dull light, watching her fiercely. His horns glinted briefly in the sparse light when he took a deep breath. His horns. Damn, why did his horns have to get her so hot and bothered? She was a sick, sick individual, she decided. He licked his lips and a surge of heat spread through her, startling her in its intensity. Finally, albeit painfully slowly, he took the cup from her hands and placed it on the floor. She sat still as a statue, unable to move. His long fingers found her again, deftly stroking the back of her hands in long smooth motions. When they snaked their way around, gliding in through them and tracing circles on her palms she swallowed her moan. Her mind was blank, she had lost it as soon as his strong hands claimed her embarrassingly submissive ones, and she fought the urge to close her eyes, throw her head back and enjoy the moment.
He wasn't supposed to touch her like this, but now he had started he didn't want to stop. His hand on her delicate skin made him feel so strange. He wanted more, needed more. He wanted to run his hands up her arms, tear the duvet off and push her down on the mattress. He wanted all those silly clothes of off her, she should be naked, she should expose all to him and he would run his hands everywhere, feeling her, tasting her.
The thought shocked him. He was at a complete loss with her. He could not explain or reason for his reactions. What was he doing? She was human, of all races, human. Why was this happening? He traced the length of her fingers, slowly feeling his way down, all the way to the tips. He heard her whimper and his heart started beating faster, hammering against his ribcage, blood rushed in his ears. After all these years, why was this happening now?
She intertwined their fingers in response to his touch. She did. Sliding hers in between his, caressing the back of his hand with her thumb. And he almost lost control. "Karen?" he whispered, his voice urgent, needing. When had she gotten so close to him? Her face only inches away from his. "I want to touch you, may I?" He almost growled at himself. Why was he asking permission? He never used to. But that was then, that was back in Hell. He had never been a gentleman. Part of him didn't want to care what she answered, it just wanted her, it wanted to satisfy his own pressing needs. He couldn't listen to that part anymore, he was better than that. He shuddered, his whole being vibrated with the effort keeping himself in check. How did a mere human get under his skin so much?
Karen couldn't answer. Couldn't move. She had frozen solid the second the words had left his lips. With their fingers no longer entangled, he began lingering strokes over her hands, her wrists, slowly making his way up her arm. Her skin burned with every languid touch, every gentle caress, her throat threatening to let loose the moan she knew was close but tried to hold back. If she let herself moan she would break, she would lose herself, she was sure of it. He was so close, his presence so overpowering. If she tilted her head just right, all he had to do was close the small gap between them and she would finally know what his lips felt like. At that very moment, she would give almost anything to know what they felt like. He brushed the duvet off her shoulder as his fingertips traced flames up her arm.
Shit, I'm wearing granny panties! she mentally yelled, pushing herself out of her dreamy stupor. What? No! Colin! Fucking Colin! She snatched her arm out of his hand. “I can't!” she breathed. What was she doing? What the fuck was she doing? She almost just- She almost just let him- Well, whatever it was he was going to do, it certainly wasn't something she could let him do. No matter how attracted she was to him. You are such an idiot! she screamed inwardly, What the hell do you think you are doing? You have Colin! Her inner voice was right, she had Colin, although she certainly didn't deserve him after this. She felt both embarrassed and furious with herself. She had practically offered herself up on a silver platter. And to a Demon!
She jumped up on shaky legs, the duvet falling back on the bed behind her. Her action made Cef sit back in the creaky chair with a jolt. She snatched her shoes from the floor with less grace than she wanted and bolted for the door. She had to get out, she needed to get out. But she couldn't find the door in the dark. She hammered on the walls. "Where is the fucking door?" she shouted, feeling her panic rise.
Cef stood up, way too calmly for her liking. She sneered at him. Why was he so at ease? Shouldn't he be as flustered and embarrassed as she was? Crossing his arms over his chest, he relaxed against the small kitchen bench. His indifferent attitude angered her instantly. Had he just been toying with her? He didn't care at all, did he? And he knew, he knew what he had done to her, what he had reduced her to. He was probably laughing at her on the inside. He would probably run straight to Sylvester to laugh at the stupid, easily led human he could have had if he had wanted to. Karen was furious. And more than embarrassed. "I crossed a line," he eventually said. It sounded like a question and that pissed her off even more.
"Yes, yes you did," Karen snapped, "I'm leaving."
Cef sighed in irritation. "Here." He moved to stand beside her and opened the door for her, the hallway was even darker than the apartment and she didn't really want to go into it. "Take this." From a pile of clothes by the door he handed her a thick shirt. "It's cold out," he explained, the tone of his voice making it sound as if she was being an idiot for not taking it.
“Oh, you are just- you- you are such an-" she spluttered and stuttered awkwardly. "You are an ass, Mr. Warchief," she finally finished. And I'm an even bigger one for fucking liking you a second ago. Cef said nothing, just stood there in the dark, still holding out the shirt for her. "Don't pretend you care," Karen hissed at him, tearing it out of his hands. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes, relieved that they were in darkness. Why did she want to cry? It made no sense, she should be angry, shouldn't she? She marched out into the hallway and slammed the door shut, not giving him a chance to respond to her.
She then found herself bathed in complete darkness. She was still able to hear the rest of the building's tenants making various noises, noises she would rather not know what was, but from Cef's apartment, there was only silence. She wished she knew why she was listening. The light flickered above her, it came back on with a hiss. "About fucking time," she told it, sighing with relief. She had not wanted to walk down the stairs in total darkness.
Examining the shirt in her hand, she found it to be just an ordinary, black, long-sleeved shirt, but it was thick enough to at least be of some use going home. She pulled on her shoes, taking her anger out on the laces. She was so far from her apartment, she would have to take a cab. Would she even be able to get one in that neighborhood? She forcefully pressed her mind full of thoughts and plans about how to get home, anything to stop her from thinking about stupid Cef. It worked. Kind of. With another grumpy huff, she walked down the stairs as she pulled on the shirt.
✽✽✽
Cef pressed his forehead to the door, listening to her moving around, then to her stomping down the stairs. He didn't want to see her go, he didn't want to hear her either but couldn't stop himself from listening. He steadied his breath in an attempt to be aware of every last step until he could no longer make her out in the maze of sounds coming from the building.
He was so confused, couldn't explain to himself exactly what he had been doing, what he had been thinking. He hadn't been thinking at all. He pushed off the door. The little indent in his bed where she had sat, the little cocoon still in place, mocked him. He wanted to rip off the covers and flatten it, erase every trace of her. He could still sme
ll her in the air, her scent lingered. Torture.
He should not have propositioned her, she was a mere human. Just a damned human. You could have just taken her. The thought ran through him like an electric shock. She was just a female and she wanted you. She had wanted him, she most definitely had, he was so sure of it. That was strange in itself. A human? Wanting a Demon? You could have just taken her, you should not have let her change her mind. He growled at the voice in his head and pushed it to the back of his mind, into the space reserved for drowning out the past.
He had denied himself female company for what seemed like forever, that was surely the only reason he was there, touching a human the way that he had, practically begging her to let him take her. Him? A Demon! Begging a mere human for a touch? The thought was laughable. He had denied himself for so long, denied himself everything in a weak attempt to make up for his past, for all his mistakes. That was the only reasonable explanation.
Maybe he was going mad, but he could still feel her under his fingertips, he could still feel her skin against the palms of his hands. What was happening to him?
He was suddenly angry. Angry that Karen had rejected him. Angry that his needs were not met. Angry that he would spend the rest of the night alone wishing she had stayed. It was ridiculous, Demons they did not care for humans. That was like a horse caring for an ant. It did not make sense. She was not powerful like a Witch or a Vamp, not even a Were. She was weak and fragile. So why had he wanted her so much, wanted her so bad he could already taste her? And why did he keep imagining her in his bed? Why did he keep imagining her underneath him? He looked at his hands, the hands that had just a moment ago been pleasuring her. Because they had, he knew that she had enjoyed it. Granted, he didn't know much about human females, but they were all the same in the end, weren't they? Human, Demon. Could their bodies respond so differently?
