by Jen Pretty
I climbed up onto a seat by the bar and asked for a gin and tonic. It arrived with a slice of lime. There were three TVs on the wall behind the bar showing the news stations. Boring.
Nick and Julian sat on either side of me. Both of them had water. Also, boring.
“So, what is it exactly that you do?” I asked Julian once I had consumed half my drink and was feeling much less awkward.
“I am now the owner of two hotel chains and a construction company plus a few casinos,” he said, offhandedly like it was no big deal.
“So, now you wear suits all the time?” I asked. I liked him in jeans and t-shirts, riding his motorcycle.
His lip ticked up into a crooked smile. “I can change if you like.”
Nick snorted and rolled his eyes so hard he must have seen his brain.
I left all that alone and downed the rest of my drink, then ordered another. By the time I finished that second drink, I didn’t care at all what the half-demon or demon-touched hunter had to say. A man was sitting at a table behind us and I had swivelled around to listen in to his story about a harrowing experience he had trying to fly out of Panama City during a hurricane. Our hero squeezed into the last flight out when an old lady had a heart problem while in line waiting to board. He was fantastic, and I wondered if I could tell a story like that. It was enthralling, and the people sitting around him all had amazed looks on their faces. It wasn’t like he saved the day. The old lady dropped and he got in line fast enough to take her space. Kind of a jerk move, actually, but who was I to judge? It was a hurricane. Maybe I’d have done the same thing.
When he finished everyone clapped and cheered. Okay, that was just me, and everyone gave me a funny look.
“Time to go,” Julian said.
“Thank God,” Nick replied. They hustled me out of the lounge and towards the big sign that said “departures.”
The Newark Airport was a bustling hub of frantic, confused commuters hustling in and out. We bypassed all the lines, and a nice lady in a uniform welcomed us. Her hair looked like plastic. It was so solid. When she turned her head to direct us to our plane, her hair didn't move at all. Luckily Julian was listening because I had tuned her out to ponder her hair. Then she was smiling at me.
“Thank you,” I said. Julian pulled on my sleeve and I followed him away from the plastic woman.
I had never been on a plane before, so the weird hallway we walked down was intimidating.
“Wait, I don't have my suitcase!” I said and dashed back but Nick stopped me, blocking my path.
“They checked your suitcase while we were in the lounge,” Nick said.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “If anyone stole my net there will be hell to pay.” I slammed my fist into my other hand to punctuate the statement properly.
He chuckled. “Are you drunk?”
Julian piped in. “She’s a lightweight.”
Nick turned me around and pressed me forward. I worried about my net, though. I needed it for the gargoyles. I should have a spare. As soon as we got back, I was ordering a second one from Roderick.
A stewardess led us to our seats after checking out boarding passes. Julian sat next to me, leaving Nick across the aisle.
The takeoff scared the shit out of me, but I kept my screams to a minimum and the other passengers all seemed calm, so I guess feeling like you are about to die is normal. I had a small glass of wine, and before I knew it, we were heading down towards earth again. I unclasped my hands from the armrests and we disembarked. It was strange to come out a similar tunnel and end up in a different airport, but this one smelled like coffee. I was about to say we should grab some when a familiar face caught my eye.
I froze.
A crowd of people passed in front of me, blocking the face I knew as well as my own. I had to be sure, so I waited. Then they passed, and I confirmed it.
“What is it?” Julian said, his hand coming up to rest in the middle of my spine.
I swallowed a lump in my throat, then laughed without humour. My hand rose to point to the woman standing across the airport from us.
“That’s my mother.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Can we just go?” I asked, trying to turn a different way. It only led back to the plane, but I saw a bathroom. I could hide in there till she left.
I booked it to the ladies and into a stall. I probably used too much speed, but I was panicking. I locked the stall door and then hopped up on the toilet seat and sat on the tank so my feet wouldn't give me away.
At least that answered the nagging question about where my mother had gone. She hadn’t called or written in the three years since I broke a stupid gargoyle and the demon inside possessed me. Not that she had ever been a great mother, but she was the only one I had. I rubbed my sweaty palms on my pants and then took some toilet paper and dried my foolish eyes. That woman didn't deserve tears, only a good solid thump with a gargoyle net.
Other women were in the washroom. The sound of chatter and the hand driers was the background to my wild thoughts. There was no way out of here except through the door. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and sent a text to Nick.
“Is she gone?” I asked.
The little bubble bounced telling me he was typing. “Where did you go?”
“Little girls' room,” I replied.
He didn’t type back.
“Hey, you can’t be in here,” a woman said from outside my door.
“Sorry, ladies. I need to talk to my girlfriend who is having a meltdown because her mom just popped up at the airport. She is hiding in a stall.”
Nick must have flashed his smile because the woman all “awed” and told him that was sweet of him to come to my aid. Idiots. He wanted me to go out there and face my crap life, but that was not in my plans for this trip. I’m supposed to be capturing a half-demon lunatic, not building family bridges and mending whatever thing families are supposed to mend.
Maybe it was fences. No. That didn't make sense.
“Har,” Nick said.
I kept quiet but heard his feet shuffling up the row of stalls until he got to mine which I had locked. He knocked. I kept my trap shut.
“Harlow, I know you are in there. I can hear you breathing. Can I come in?”
“This is the ladies' room. You shouldn't be here,” I said.
Nick groaned, and then his head slid under the stall door, followed by his body.
“Oh, my God! Get off the floor. People pee on that!”
Nick slid through and popped up to his feet in front of me. I covered my eyes so he wouldn't see my puffy gross face and sniffled hard, in case my nose was dripping. Nick's warm hands took mine and pulled them away from my face.
“What happened between you and your mom?” he asked in a soft voice.
I tried to pull my hands out of his grip and cover my face again, but his grip was firm, so I brought my face down to them. I was nearly resting on his chest. He took a step forward and wrapped his arms around behind me. He was kind of straddling the toilet, but he was warm, and I blocked out the fact we were in the bathroom stall.
“She was a shit mother,” I muttered. “She took off when the demon possessed me.” I whispered the last part because some nosey ladies were still standing around in the washroom listening in.
Nick’s parents had abandoned him, too. But they gave him to the state instead of hightailing it. He also had siblings whom he had reconnected with since. I had nobody but Len and sometimes Lincoln, though he was a shit most of the time. More like a boss than a friend.
I leaned forward and my foot slipped, almost dropping my new boot into the toilet. Nick caught me before the rest of me plummeted in after it though and all was saved.
I leaned back and realized his blue shirt now had a few wet marks on it. Great.
“I’m sorry. I didn't expect to see her ever again and certainly not today.”
“It’s okay, Har. I still haven’t spoken to my parents. My sister keeps trying to set up a
day for us all to get together and I keep bailing. I know what you are going through. But you can do this.” He tipped my chin up to look at my face. “This is nothing compared to facing down a demon.”
“She is the original demon,” I said. “She is my superhero origin story.”
Nick laughed, and so did a couple of women who were still eavesdropping. Super. Now my dirty laundry was fodder for bored housewives. They better not be live tweeting this. Speaking of which, weren’t we talking about demons? “Ix-nay on the demo-nay,” I said in a harsh whisper.
“Come on, Harlow,” Nick said, taking my hand and unlocking the bathroom stall. I washed my hands and rinsed my face so I looked less snotty and gross. Then I ducked down and let the hand dryer dry my face. The warm air helped clear up the red splotches on my cheeks. God, I was a delight.
I stepped out into the airport terminal and found Julian speaking to my mother. He didn't look mad like I thought he should. He was chatting away with my estranged mother.
Her eyes slid towards me in slow motion. I paused mid-step, and Nick stopped at my side. She blinked at me. Then a small smile turned up her lips.
I scowled. How dare she smile at me?
Julian crossed the distance and stood in front of me, blocking my view of my birth-giver. “She will meet us at the hotel and you two can talk there,” he said.
I raised my eyes to his. “Why do I have to talk to her?” I asked, trying to hold back new tears. My plan to be mad instead of sad wasn’t working very well.
“She is a half-demon.”
Well, there ya go. My momma was a half-demon; like I couldn't have put that together by now. Duh. She was a lousy mother and an awful person in general. This should not come as a surprise. But as Nick turned me to walk towards the doors out of the airport, the gravity of that information settled in my stomach and made me want to puke. If she was a half-demon, what did that make me?
I tossed that idea around for so long the cab we had piled into had already stopped in front of a hotel & casino called Lucky River. I was certainly not lucky to be here. They better have pizza and a mini bar.
The cab driver fished our luggage out of the trunk. I wasn’t sure where Julian's came from as I didn’t remember him having any, but maybe it was some VIP magic. I dragged my rolling suitcase behind me over the interlocking brick of the front walk to the doors, following Julian and Nick who had started a conversation about stocks of all things like that was important in a time like this. I was having a midlife crisis. Or existential crisis.
It was a crisis anyway.
“Hello, Mr. Doyle,” the woman behind the desk said as we approached.
Julian gave a small nod and the woman handed him two key cards and a little stack of notes. “Your messages,” she added. “I hope you enjoy your stay.”
Julian said nothing. He handed one key card to Nick and the other to me, then led us to the elevator.
Once we were on and the doors closed, he turned to face me. “I have to take care of some business. Your mother should be here shortly. You can discuss things with her, and when I get back we can go talk to some half-demons who have seen Collin in the area.”
“Sure, boss,” I said snidely.
He ignored my tone and instead turned to Nick. “You got this?”
Nick nodded.
“Are you two managing me? This is not cool. I’m in the middle of a family thing right now. You can both fuck off and I’ll handle it myself.” I pushed the button on the elevator to try to make the doors open, but it kept sliding up like I hadn’t given it a command — stupid electronic crap. I pushed the door open button a bunch more times and finally it made a cheery little beep and the doors opened.
“Your room is there.” Julian pointed, then stepped back onto the elevator and the doors slid closed. Jerk.
I dragged my suitcase down the blue-carpeted hall to the door he had indicated. It took me a few tries to get the key card to work but finally the light switched green and the door opened to display a bright open suite. It must have been the penthouse, or whatever the fanciest one was, because it had floor to ceiling windows looking out over the city and a separate bedroom. The furniture was all classic: leather armchairs and matching desk chair sat in front of an office-sized desk. There was also a small dining table and a TV on the wall. I rolled my suitcase into the bedroom and plopped it on the bed, which was so tall I could have used a step stool to climb on. I flicked on the light in the bathroom and almost did a happy dance, even in my sour mood, because there was a big fancy tub with jets.
There was a knock at the door and I thought about not answering it. If it was my mom, I might avoid her a bit longer. Then I heard Nick's voice through the door and decided he wasn't the enemy. Right now, anyway.
“Hey,” he said, then he looked around. “You have a way nicer suite.”
“Well, Julian likes me. You not so much.”
Nick chuckled. “Yeah, no kidding.”
We sat in silence for a moment. It wasn’t as awkward as before, but it was still weird.
“I ordered you some pizza.”
Oof. If we had been in Vegas, I would have married that boy. I wrapped my arms around his waist and he held me for a minute. “Thank you, Nick.”
“I got you, Har.”
A knock on the door sent my stress level rocketing. “Here we go.”
I opened the door, and she stood there, a near mirror of me: the same blond hair, the same face. We were nearly the same height, too. For some reason, she was taller in my memory.
“Harlow,” she whispered and then cleared her throat. “How have you been?”
I scoffed. “Yeah, like you care.” Nick cleared his throat behind me, sounding for all the world like Len reminding me of my manners. “I guess you might as well come in.” I left the door open and walked to the small sitting area with the fancy leather chairs.
She walked in behind me and the heavy suite door slowly clicked shut. Nick still stood by the small dining table, his face as blank as Julian's.
The room was quiet for several long agonizing moments. I tried to form words but I hadn’t even pictured this day. I had convinced myself I would never see her again and now here she was.
“Harlow, I hoped we wouldn't have to meet like this.”
I glared at her. I was innocently trying to capture some half demon and she was standing there apparently waiting for me.
She looked down at her hands, having the good grace to look guilty as she spoke. “I wanted you to have a better life.”
I kept staring at her, her eyes averted. It had only been three years but she looked the same as I always remembered.
“Are you immortal?” I asked.
She nodded.
“You were a shit mother.”
She nodded again and swallowed hard. I wanted to shake her.
“Why?” I said on the edge of anger.
“I couldn't let anyone find you. They couldn't know.”
“Couldn’t know what?” I asked, getting frustrated with the tiny little answers.
“Half-demons can’t have children. Well, not until you.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Are you saying I am the only… quarter demon?” If I wasn’t still angry, that might have been funny.
“That's exactly what I’m saying,” she said.
My eyes slid to Nick. His face was as shocked as I felt. This was the twilight zone level of crazy. Then I realized just how shit the deal I got was. I was some part demon and didn't come with any cool powers. I also didn't look like a demon, so the tradeoff was probably fine. Who wanted to have scales or wings or horns on their head? Not me.
“So, you abandoned me because?”
“I knew as soon as Lincoln came sniffing around after the demon-possessed you that he would take you on. The town needed a new hunter, and you were strong enough to survive the possession. You have our will, if nothing else. Your stubborn will to live would save you and Lincoln, and the Demon Division would make s
ure you were well compensated.”
Once Linc fessed up to hoarding my stash, I discovered I was well compensated. I had enough to buy my own house, though I still hadn’t found one I liked as they were all too big and empty. I was better off with Linc anyway, since being alone again wasn’t part of my plan.
“What about before that? You would leave me alone for days.”
“I didn't leave you alone. You had Len. He promised he would take care of you.”
“Oh, well, it's fine then!” I jumped to my feet. “Who needs a parent when I can have a pizzeria owner? He wasn’t my mother!”
Her eyes flashed red. Apart from the fact she was the worst mother ever, she also had glowing red eyes. My mother, the demon.
I fled to the bedroom and slammed the door. Then stormed into the bathroom and slammed that door, too. I considered throwing something at the door for a third exclamation, but I ran out of steam and collapsed to the floor.
I ugly-cried for a while. The kind of sobs that don't make any sound, then you hiccup and your nose makes snot bubbles.
I tried to remember one happy memory of my mother; I didn't have one. We lived together and then she left. My life had improved upon her departure because Lincoln was always there, and so was Len. They were the family I got to keep. It didn't take the sting away from the fact my mother abandoned me, though.
Once when I was in 5th grade, I painted a picture of a horse in art class. It was a true masterpiece, and I got an A on the assignment. One of the few times I got a good grade. I raced home to show my mom, climbed the stairs to our apartment, and flung open the door only to find my mom wasn’t there. I had seen her before school and she said she would see me later. “Later” turned out to be two days later. By then I had thrown my art away. I dropped it in the dumpster behind Len’s while I was looking for something to eat because the cupboards were bare.
That was the first time Len fed me. He scooped me out of the dumpster and sat me on a stool in his kitchen while he made me a pizza.
