Forty-one

You’re awfully anxious, Elizabeth.”

“Really.”

“Goodness.” She shuddered. “You’re trembling.”

“I didn’t sleep…” I looked up to catch a knowing look on her face. “Well last night.” I threw in for her benefit.

“With how horrible you look I’d say you didn’t sleep at all.”

“How are things at the restaurant?” I asked side-tracking her. “Are there anymore rich foreigners’?”

“Surprisingly yes,” She said. I knew the distraction would work. Jennie was passionate about her job. “They are becoming more frequent.”

I was done with my breakfast by then. “Have a great day at work.” I said ready to leave.

“You’re terribly happy today.” She observed. “You’re singing again.”

“I can’t get the lyrics out of my head.”

“You aren’t dressed for school.” She said.

“I’m not going.”

“Is anything the matter?” she frowned worriedly.

“I’m tired. I’ll call in sick.”

“I’m not letting you…”

“Please mom.” I crossed my fingers. “Just this once, please.”

She nodded resiliently. “Going out on a date?”

“Mom.”

“Benjamin taking you out, I see.”

“Jennie , I told you I’m only interested in one guy and that’s Bradley Carter.”

She sighed dejectedly. “When will I see him then?”

“I’ll ask him and let you know.”

“Okay.”

I gathered the dishes and washed them hastily at the sink. She said goodbye. The second her car pulled out of the driveway I whirled around, abandoning the dirty dishes, running back to my bedroom but I stopped, surprised to hear a gentle voice come behind me.

“I thought I’d help you with the dishes.” His voice was amused.

I turned around, unable to believe he was really here, and sure enough Bradley was by the sink, holding the dish soap in one hand and a plate in another. He looked so stunning in my mother’s kitchen, so foreign.

He didn’t belong here, not an angel like him, not him. He didn’t belong with me I realised with great dismay.

“So human,” I mumbled.

“Mm,” He sighed and proceeded to wash the dishes. I just stood there staring at him.

“It would go much faster if you helped me you know?”

“Right,” I whispered.

He laughed. “Don’t worry I’m done.”

I laughed too. “I’m going to shower.” I said. “Wait for me.”

He nodded.

I took off my clothes hurriedly, falling down when I stepped on the heels of my shoes to take them off and hopped in the shower. I had a cold shower, that way I could cut my bathing time in half. I brushed my teeth ferociously.

I hastily washed my hair trying very hard to control my thoughts from wondering to Bradley, doing the dishes in my mother’s kitchen. I wondered what Jennie would say if she came home to find an angel at her house. My heart hyper-wired. I towelled quickly, missing my hair and my feet. I couldn’t prolong it much longer.

I pulled on a blue crop top and high waist white and black stripped shorts. The bathroom was in a mess. I promised myself to clean up later, when Bradley had gone home.

I walked barefoot as I made my way down the hall into the lounge. Bradley was waiting for me, with a smile on his face, his black eyes unreadable.

He patted the spot beside him on the couch. “Come sit with me.”

He didn’t need to tell me twice. I sat down heavily. I was tired from staying up all night but also unwilling to sleep, not that I could sleep with him there.

His soft voice interrupted my thoughts. “You kids have it all wrong. Demons are not malevolent, wicked, manipulative spirits that possess human bodies so that they could traffic against the living. Our souls don’t do an era in hell either. Our souls are not hell-bound.”

“So what are you saying?”

He scooped me up and sat me cradling his lap, I lay my head against his chest. His fingers brushed through the knots and tangles of my shady crimson curls.

“Demons are born not made, it would be much easier if we were spirits which could possess anybody we please, if the demonic contamination infested on hosts that sinned, don’t you think? The world would be filled with wondering lost spirits that are looking for souls to corrupt.” He rolled his eyes. “Hell doesn’t even exist. We were created by the same superior being that created humans, animals, plants – all living things. We were given superhuman abilities, supernatural gifts, which is very puzzling. But everything else is.”

"So no mysterious epidemic that turned humans to you know…?"

He threw a pointed glance in my direction, and raised a loose tangled strand, still wet from my shower, to comb his long fingers through it. I shivered. “My mother has a theory – just like there are different kinds of animals, others more inferior to others – and so there are three kinds of two legged, talking creatures. Low in the food chain are humans, then witches and then demons.”

“So there only exist three…” what had he said. “Two legged talking creatures.”

“As far as I know,” He murmured. “And I’ve been around for quite some time now. I would’ve come across another creature. I’ve lived in every country and state. The younger we say we are the longer we can live in one given place. People start noticing after ten years. We make it a mission to leave before people we went to school with start greying.”

“Although my mother was born human –”

“Really?” I interrupted, fascinated. “But you said demons are born not made.”

“Yes. Her case is rather rare.” His jaw set. “She doesn’t remember anything from her human life except her name and last name. She was buried alive…” he sighed. “We think her family thought she was dead and buried her or she did die and by some mysterious way something or someone changed her. It was seventy years before she awoke. It’s not that she remembers her name as opposed to the fact that she read her name on her tombstone. She didn’t even bother looking for her family. She died when she was twenty – Of course all of her family members were already dead – she was alone and scared, she lived in an old warehouse for a while. My father found her hunting. They’ve been together since.”

"Or maybe she was born a demon and suffered from some sort of memory loss?"

“That’s definitely something to think about.” He whispered. “We had to rule it out when Victor came across an article from a newspaper about her death. She was definitely human.”

“How many others are like her?” I was surprised. What a disturbing life that was for her. To lose her family. To wake up all alone knowing that her siblings were dead, to wake up to a different world and she had to learn hunting all by herself. What would I do without Zack in my life? The thought made knots all over my body.

“She’s the only one in all of history.” His eyes lit up when he spoke of her. The respect he had for her shined in his usually dark eyes. “She has a gift – as we call the curse – she can turn a human to one of our kind. She’s very unique. She’d done it only once. But unfortunately Phyllis doesn’t agree to our way of life, our diet. She visits every once in a while.”

“Curse?”

He sighed, “You see, there are abilities that are possessed by all demons; from immortality, invulnerability – injuries that would be fatal to humans, such as broken necks or gunshot wounds, have very little - if any - effect on demons. Super stamina - demons never tire, nor require food, water, oxygen, or sleep to sustain themselves. Super strength - Demons possess superior physical strength compared to that of humans; capable of physically overpowering both witches and humans. Supernatural Senses - we have an enhanced sense of smell and taste, hearing. Regeneration – suppose a demon sustained an injury they can heal themselves. Enhanced Immunity - As a general rule, the older a demon is, the more resistant they are to harm. These are considered gifts.” He glanced at me warily. “and the curses are the individual norms and powers we possess far beyond the general abilities – take me for instance, I can teleport to anywhere in the world I choose, not occupying the space in-between and I can assess ones soul – it’s like mind reading but in a much more concentrated form I can assess every thought one has ever had and also know if they have a dark or pure soul, my mom can convert humans into demons, Zane can manipulate people’s feelings and also steal them– it is a much powerful form of empathy.

“Victor and your dad?”

He grinned. “They are very special. My father is a healer – he can heal both himself and others with a simple touch of the hand, Victor he can manipulate memory.”