by Xenia Melzer
The figure in the front put their hands on their hips and glared at him, which only made the terrycloth look even more ridiculous.
“Stop it, Dresalantion! I order you! You have to obey!”
Dre stopped laughing. The little shit wants to play games? Dre would give him what he was asking for…and more.
“What do you want?” He tried to sound subservient but it was hard. Dre wasn’t that good an actor to begin with, and despite the fun the humans had provided him, he was getting back to being pissed. The small human—Dre was positive now that it was a boy and had to be a teenager—raised both hands.
“We have brought you a sacrifice to heighten your strength for the task we have for you.”
He made a step sideways and gestured to the left side of the room, where a prone form lay on the broken floor. “Have your fill then carry out our orders!”
Dre had had enough. Why did humans think a blood sacrifice was required? Demons weren’t fond of human meat, since it left a strange aftertaste, and given what people chose to eat these days, that was understandable. Of course, there were some cruel demons who delighted in the fear of the sacrifices, but most of those were doing time in a cell in the demon realm. Demon society had fully arrived in the twenty-first century and his father, the king, had every intention of keeping their existence a secret. For that goal, he had implemented a number of laws that prevented demons from screwing up in the human world while their society profited from the human inventions at the same time.
He eyed the boy while he made a deliberate step outside the chalk circle the teenagers had drawn on the floor. It looked more like an egg than a circle anyway. If they have to mess with me, why can’t they at least do a decent job at drawing? It isn’t that difficult, is it? Even the old Egyptians had managed to get a circle straight, no pun intended. All someone needed was a piece of rope and a stick. Simple, really. The boy was now jumping up and down, throwing more salt at Dre.
“I command you to step back into the circle! I command you!”
Very slowly, Dre pulled back his lips and let his fangs grow out. A whimper resounded from behind the boy and Wonder Woman and Floral Pattern ran for the door. He let his hair turn into scales, which took care of the linen cloaks. When he turned his eyes a shade of crimson, the terrycloth-draped boy shrieked, spun around and followed his friends through the empty doorframe with the rusty hinges sticking out. Satisfied with the hasty retreat of his summoners, Dre turned to the person on the floor. Two steps and he was kneeling next to the body. Very carefully, he grabbed the shoulder and rolled the person onto their back. Two huge, beautiful eyes looked up at him—one blue, the other a deep brown. Thick black curls framed an angular face that was definitely masculine and yet strangely ethereal, like he was an angel—which was bullshit, since angels weren’t all that ethereal. Horny little fuckers, most of them. The full lips quivered, and a tear slid down the lightly chocolate-colored skin.
“Please, don’t kill me.”
Dre swallowed hard. He usually wasn’t attracted to humans—too fragile for his taste—but this one? This one made his heart thud a little harder than usual.
“Don’t be afraid. I would never kill an innocent.”
The look in the still-teary eyes told him the man didn’t believe him. Dre concentrated and his fangs receded, the scales turned back into hair and the red in his eyes bled out. He knew he would never really look human—more like a meta-human or as if he were taking too many steroids—but at least he had a familiar shape now.
“I promise that you’re safe. What’s your name?”
The huge eyes widened even more. “I’m not sure I should tell you. Names have power.”
Dre frowned and tried to get his thoughts in order. The boy was clearly frightened, but not as terrified as he should have been when confronted with him changing his shape. He had expected the boy to pass out, yet here he was, staring at him with suspicion under the fear and a clear knowledge about certain precautions, like never telling a stranger your name.
“You’re right. Names do have power. You know about”—Dre hesitated for a moment then settled for—“the paranormal world?”
The boy sighed. “Yes. Sometimes more than I’d like.” He leaned his head back on the dirty floor and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, a strange determination had almost completely overridden the fear. “May I ask what you are?”
Dre lifted a brow and gestured back to the badly drawn chalk circle. “Make a guess.” He grinned in an attempt to soothe the young man further.
“What do you mean?” The human tried to get into a sitting position and Dre hurried to help him. His hands were tied in front of him with a length of clothesline.
“Shall I help you with this?” Dre pointed at the man’s bound hands.
For a moment he seemed to be confused, but then he held his arms up. Dre let one of his claws slide out to cut through the clothesline. The pieces fell into the young man’s lap and he started massaging his wrists while he looked around.
“Thank you. Now what am I supposed to guess?”
Dre rolled his eyes. Perhaps the teenagers who had summoned him had hit the guy over the head, because he didn’t seem to be the brightest light in the chandelier.
“You wanted to know what I am. Look around you. Chalk circle—”
“That’s not a circle. That’s an egg.” The young man squinted at the floor, where the chalk markings were. “And it’s pink!”
Dre took a closer look and, really, the chalk was pink. How he hadn’t realized that before was beyond him. Though he had been pissed, and he tended to get tunnel vision when that happened.
“Okay, you’re right. It’s a pink chalk egg with scary symbols.”
“Not that scary. Some of them are wrong. I mean, look at that one over there. It should have two loops instead of three. And the four lines at the center? If whoever drew this tried to summon a demon, they should have spent a bit more time studying their basic mathematics, because you need parallel lines, not crooked ones. And…” The young man trailed off. Very slowly he turned his head to Dre, his gaze traveling from his navel up to his face. “Holy shit. You’re a demon!”
Dre bowed with a flourish. He could hear the fear creeping back into the young man’s voice and he wanted it gone again. He had liked the scholarly tone that the guy had used when he’d examined the circle way better.
“At your service. And as I said, don’t be afraid. I swear, no harm will come to you.”
Different emotions flickered across the face of the young man. There was the fear again, but also caution, which Dre thought was good. A human could never be careful enough when dealing with paranormals. Mixed in with those emotions was a healthy dose of curiosity fighting to be heard. After a few moments, curiosity apparently won out. The young man held out his hand.
“My name is Sammy—and I’m human.”
“Nice to meet you, Sammy. I’m Dre, which is short for Dresalantion. And I’m a demon.”
Dre took Sammy’s hand in his own and marveled at the softness of the skin and how completely his huge paw swallowed Sammy’s much-smaller hand. Sammy seemed to notice it, too, and for a moment, they both just stared at their connection. Dre was the one to break the silence first.
“How did you get here?”
Sammy scrunched his pert nose. “To be honest, I don’t know. One moment, I was taking out the trash after our book club meeting, and the next, something stinking was pressed against my nose. I woke from the sound of your footsteps on the floor.”
Dre sighed. “So, you probably don’t know who took you?”
Sammy shook his head. “No. I did hear them shrieking just now, but I was still too dazed to realize what was going on.”
“Pity. They should pay for what they did.”
Dre was still convinced Sammy’s abductors were underage, and he would have loved nothing more than to teach them a lesson.
“They’re dabbling with occultism. If you
haven’t frightened them off, they will soon get another lesson.”
Sammy sounded a bit sad.
“Don’t tell me you feel sorry for them?”
“Not really. I mean, they kidnapped me, and I’m not naïve enough to think it was for friendly reasons, but they clearly have no clue what they’re doing, which means they won’t survive for long. And we won’t either if we don’t get out of here. I don’t like the sounds this building is making.”
Dre didn’t know what to make of Sammy. He didn’t seem too frightened anymore, and the way he talked about his kidnappers showed that he knew quite a lot about the paranormal world. He sounded pragmatic, and yet Dre could sense an innocence in Sammy that he usually associated with children. And as if this contradiction weren’t odd enough already, there was also Sammy’s slender build that spoke to something inside Dre, as well as a deep sadness in his eyes that hinted at yet another secret of the young man’s.
Sammy slowly got up and had to grab Dre’s arm when he suddenly started swaying. Dre steadied him by slinging his arm around Sammy’s waist. This brought their bodies even closer and, despite the filth all around them and the traces of fear and adrenaline still lurking in Sammy’s system, Dre got a whiff of his natural scent and felt a shiver down his back. Unlike shifters, demons didn’t recognize their true mates through scent, and Dre had always wondered how some pheromones in the air could make a shifter go crazy. But when he inhaled the spicy aroma of pine needles and cinnamon wafting from Sammy, he could imagine what it had to be like. The young man’s scent was pleasant. Dre realized he had been staring at Sammy with his mouth open and tried to downplay his reaction.
“Easy there. Whatever they used to knock you out must be still in your system. Do you want to sit down on”—Dre gazed around—“that comfortable-looking pile of debris over there?”
Sammy chuckled. “Looks tempting. To be honest, though, I think we really should leave here. I’m not too sure how much weight the floor can still handle, and you’re awfully big. No offense.”
“None taken. Let’s get you out of here.”
Without waiting for Sammy’s response, Dre lifted him in his arms. He figured that was the fastest way to leave the building without using his usual means of transportation. Somehow Dre got the feeling Sammy wouldn’t appreciate a trip through time and space at this moment. Sammy yelped in surprise and slung his arms around Dre’s neck, which felt better than he cared to admit. It was also strangely comforting that Sammy seemed to feel safe enough to cling to him.
“Wow, your skin is almost burning.”
“Perks of being a demon. We’re never cold.”
“Like a heating blanket. Must be nice during cold nights.”
Dre raised a brow while he tried to move gracefully through all the debris scattered around the abandoned building. Now that he was out of that tiny room, he realized he was on the second floor, according to the faded sign on one of the walls. In his search for a staircase, he turned right, where the floor seemed to be a little less cluttered.
“Did you just compare me to an electric device?”
Dre could feel Sammy’s grin against the skin on his neck and couldn’t suppress his own. Sammy was obviously relaxing more and more in his company, and he liked it.
“You have to admit it’s kind of an obvious comparison. And heating blankets are a great invention, first used in the 1900s, but back then they were still kind of clunky and considered an oddity.”
Dre was so baffled by this completely superfluous piece of information that his mouth hung open. “An oddity?” was all he could say.
“Yes. They started getting more attention in 1921, when they were used to keep tuberculosis patients warm. From then on, the heating blanket started its triumphal march to popularity, and in 1936, the first automatic electric blanket was invented. That basic design didn’t change until 1984, when the first thermostat-free blanket was introduced to the market.”
“So I’m a thermostat-free blanket?” Against all odds, Dre was having fun with this. He was a sucker for useless knowledge himself, but he hadn’t known about the heating blanket.
“I’m not sure. Do demons have thermostats? It would make sense, since you’re so hot—no pun intended.”
Sammy obviously tried his hardest to sound serious, but there was a hint of laughter in his tone that Dre found almost irresistible. Sammy sure was an interesting human.
“You’re aware that I’m an almost-eight-hundred-year-old demon who just saved your skinny ass from being sacrificed and you want to know if I have a thermostat on my body?”
He must have sounded harsher than he’d intended, because Sammy shuddered, and Dre instantly regretted his words, even though he had meant them as a joke. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You must be in shock, and I blabber like an insensitive asshole.”
“It’s fine. I am in shock, but I’m also known for having a terrible brain-to-mouth filter and being horribly inappropriate. And, if you haven’t noticed yet, I tend to divulge my wisdom when nervous. My social skills are abysmal. You did save me, so thank you…again. And I’m sorry for comparing you to a heating blanket.”
Dre pressed Sammy’s body a little closer to his chest when he finally found the stairs and started a slow, very careful descent toward the ground floor.
“I don’t mind. I wouldn’t mind being your heating blanket, if you wanted it.” It was a mild attempt at flirting, meant to distract, but Sammy seemed to take it quite seriously. He leaned back a bit to look directly into Dre’s eyes, his expression so serious that it fooled Dre until Sammy opened his mouth.
“You know, relationships based on intense experiences never last.”
The derelict staircase groaned when Dre came to an abrupt halt.
“Tell me you’re not quoting Annie from Speed here!”
“I’m not quoting Annie from Speed here,” Sammy deadpanned. Then he broke into a broad smile. “I’d have never guessed that a demon would know the film.”
“Are you kidding?” Dre started walking again, very mindful of where he was treading. “That film’s a classic. I’ve seen it at least fifty times.”
“So there are cinemas in hell?”
“Not to disappoint you, but I don’t live in hell—well, at least not the kind the Christians invented. It’s quite cozy, actually.” Dre hesitated, not sure how to breach the topic he wanted to talk about. “But I assume you probably knew that already. Drugs aside, you seem awfully relaxed for somebody who just narrowly escaped becoming a sacrifice and is now in the presence of a frightening, clearly non-human creature.”
“If I told you this was a side effect of the drugs, you wouldn’t believe me, would you?” There was a hint of laughter in Sammy’s voice. Okay, the boy obviously was over his initial fear. Mission accomplished.
“No. I’m a demon, not stupid. Out with it. What’s your secret?”
They reached the ground level, and after a quick look at the floor, Dre decided it was safe to let Sammy stand on his own feet. He did keep an arm around his waist, though, in case he got dizzy again. Sammy was apparently grateful for the support, because he placed his hand on Dre’s biceps when they started walking toward the exit of what must have been some kind of apartment block. And if Dre weren’t completely mistaken, which he rarely was, then Sammy had discreetly sniffed him while he’d put him down.
“To be honest, I don’t know what my secret is. I guess I kind of attract paranormal beings. As you may have guessed already, I’ve always been a nerd, the kind who reads all kinds of books and knows stuff nobody else is interested in, so, therefore, has no friends or social life to speak of. After my parents died, I opened a bookstore, and before I knew it, I was the go-to specialist for antique occult books and Japanese manga. Don’t ask me how those go together because I myself don’t know. It just happened. I started a book club with two adorable older ladies who turned out to be witches. Within a year, a zombie, two werewolves, a banshee and a vampire joined. The z
ombie now lives in my cellar behind his computer and only comes out for the meetings. Two weeks ago, the banshee tried to kill us all with ballistic pastries. I still haven’t found out what she had planned to bake originally, because those lumps of blackened sugar could have been anything. The vampire comes from an old European coven and is training to become a carpenter, of all things. The werewolves are alphas without a pack who make more money in a week than most people see their entire lives and they have a secret crush on Jane Austen.” Sammy took a deep breath. “As you can see, I’m used to oddness. I knew demons existed, but I always thought you liked to stick to your own kind…like old vampires.”
Dre couldn’t believe it. He stared at Sammy open-mouthed. “You deal with Japanese manga? There are a few I want to get my hands on.”
Sammy’s face lit up. If there had been any fear still lingering, it was apparently completely gone now, evaporated in the joy of sharing a hobby.
