Fox Among the Demons

by Trudie Collins

  “This is Fox,” Komi said.

  “So we finally get to meet the girlfriend,” Fox said as he took a seat at the table.

  “Friend, not girlfriend,” Natasha hastily corrected.

  Fox looked at Komi, one eyebrow raised.

  “I may have exaggerated our relationship a little,” he said quietly. He continued more loudly. “Let’s talk about training.”

  “Oh no. Play first. Get changed and I will teach you all how to play water volleyball,” Natasha said as she closed her laptop. She pointed out where the changing room was, then noticed that Komi was heading toward her back door. “Where are you going?”

  “To get changed.”

  Natasha shook her head. “You know you aren’t allowed in the house. Use the pool changing room like everyone else.”

  Trey walked over, a huge grin on his face. “Let me get this straight. Not only is Komi not your boyfriend, but he’s not even allowed in the house?” Natasha nodded her head. “Boy do you have some explaining to do, big brother,” he said as he placed his arm around Komi’s neck and herded him toward the changing room door.

  While the demons were getting changed into their swimming costumes, Natasha went into the house to stow away her laptop. She noticed that Fox remained at the table.

  As she walked back into the garden, she heard the gate slam shut and Lucy walked into sight. “I hate that man,” she said through gritted teeth. Natasha didn’t have to ask who she was talking about.

  “What has Ben done this time?” Natasha didn’t really want to know how Lucy’s boyfriend had upset her, but she thought she should ask.

  “That good for nothing, rotten little...” Lucy started to say, but stopped when she noticed Fox. “Sorry, I didn’t realise you had company.”

  “Fox, meet Lucy, my niece. Lucy, this is Fox, one of Komi’s friends.”

  “Komi’s here?” Lucy needlessly asked. Natasha didn’t like the way Lucy smiled. Those two got on a little too well for her liking. She couldn’t help thinking that he was a bad influence on her.

  The changing room door opened and Trey walked out, wearing nothing but tight fitting swimming shorts. His body was lean and muscular and he had a well-defined six pack. Lucy’s face lit up as she looked him up and down.

  “And this is?” she asked.

  Natasha rolled her eyes. “Trey, his younger brother. I was about to teach them volleyball. Go and get changed if you want to join in.”

  Lucy ran to the door. She returned a few minutes later wearing a bikini that didn’t leave much to the imagination.

  “No,” Natasha said. “While you may think that is appropriate on the beach when you are with your friends, it is not suitable pool attire when we have guests. Go and put something else on.”

  Trey’s mouth was hanging open as he watched Lucy pout then go back into the house, slamming the door behind her.

  “Sorry about that,” Natasha said to Trey.

  “Don’t be. I’m not. Unless you’re apologising for making her get changed.”

  Natasha didn’t reply.

  When Lucy returned, she was wearing a black one-piece swimsuit. It clung to her in all the right places, emphasising her good figure, but at least she was now showing less flesh.

  “Satisfied?” Lucy asked her aunt.

  “No, but I won’t make you change again.”

  Everyone except Fox got into the pool. A net had been put across at exactly half way, dividing it in two. They split into two teams then Lucy and Natasha explained the rules. It was a game that Natasha and Lucy had often played with Lucy’s parents, when they were alive.

  They would play the best of three sets, with each set lasting fifteen points. The teams would swap ends at the end of a set. A set had to be won by two clear points, else play would continue past the fifteen point marker until one team had two more points than the other.

  Points could only be scored by the serving team, with the serve going to the opposing team if the serving team didn’t win the point. This meant that a really good team could win without the other team scoring simply by making sure they didn’t lose the serve.

  On each change of serve, the player serving also had to change and they would continue to serve until play went to the other team. Each side could hit the ball three times before they had to hit it over the net, as long as the same player did not hit it twice in succession. They were using a large, light weight, plastic ball which floated and wouldn’t hurt if someone got hit, which happened frequently, yet was heavy enough to get over the net when hit hard.

  If the ball went out of the pool, it was deemed to be out of play and the person who hit it out was classed as losing the point, unless it hit the water first.

  It did not take the demons long to get the hang of the rules and they soon began to learn tactics, like hitting it to the person on their own team nearest the net so they could slam it down into the water, over the net, before the opposition could get to it.

  The speed of play increased and soon they were hitting it hard at each other. There were going to be a few red marks on bodies by the time they got out.

  They had not been playing long when Natasha’s phone rang. She got out of the pool, placed a towel around her waist, looked at the caller ID and grimaced. It was Lucy’s boyfriend.

  “Where’s Lucy? She’s not answering her phone,” the voice on the other end of the line said as soon as Natasha hit the answer button. He did not even give her time to say ‘hello’.

  Natasha did not appreciate being spoken to like that. She could hear the anger in his voice. “She’s in the pool.”

  “Tell her to speak to me.”

  Natasha did not react. She didn’t like this young man, but she was not going to let him make her show her dislike. “Firstly, Lucy will speak to you if and when she chooses. Secondly, we have guests over and you are disturbing us. I will not be summoning Lucy to speak to you. Do I make myself clear?”

  She was glad that she didn’t hear his reply as she hung up.

  Natasha glanced at Fox, who had been listening to the conversation. “I’m not sure which is worse, teenage girls or teenage boys.”

  Fox glanced over at Trey before saying, “I know what you mean.”

  Instead of going back to the game, Natasha went to the fridge and opened the door. “Are you driving?”

  “No,” Fox said. “Why?”

  Instead of answering, she handed Fox a bottle of beer, which he gratefully accepted. She took the top off her own before sitting at the table opposite him.

  “So you’re the one who is allegedly going to teach me.”

  “Allegedly,” Fox said before taking a deep drink from the bottle.

  “Why didn’t you join in the game?” Before getting down to the reason why he was there, Natasha wanted to know more about him. He appeared hesitant, as though he was reluctant to be honest with her. This did not bode well. If they were to have a student/teacher relationship, she had to be able to trust him. If he could not answer the most basic of her questions, trust was going to be an issue.

  He took a long drink from his bottle before answering. “I don’t undress in public.” Natasha opened her mouth to ask why, but Fox had not finished speaking. “My father was, how shall I put it? Not a nice man. My mother died giving birth to me and he never forgave me. He used to whip me regularly. I have the scars to prove it. I always keep my back covered up. It avoids people asking questions I’d rather not answer.”

  Natasha didn’t know what to say. She had not been expecting him to reveal something so personal. It made her want to know more. “Do you still see him?”

  “He died.” Fox looked at her closely, almost as if he was assessing her. “How much has Komi told you about wizards, Natasha?” he asked.

  “Please, call me Nat.” She then went on to tell him everything she could remember Komi saying about wizards, including the reason Fox decided to become a teacher.

  “There is one very important piece of information that it
looks like Komi forgot to mention,” Fox said when Natasha had finished speaking. “Where we come from, witches and wizards have different types of magic. Whenever they come into physical contact, they feed off each other, with the stronger taking more from the weaker. The two people involved don’t feel this happening and they have no way of telling who is feeding off who until so much magic is taken that one of them dies.”

  Fox paused to take another drink. Natasha had no idea where this was leading to, but didn’t interrupt him by asking.

  “My father didn’t believe the stories. He believed that those in command had made it up in order to prevent witches and wizards being together. When I was about ten years old, he started a relationship with a witch. Everything seemed to go well and there was no physical evidence that one of them was killing the other, until my father dropped dead one day. I saw his body. It looked desiccated, as if it had been sucked dry. I later found out that that is, effectively, what had happened. The witch’s magic was so powerful compared to my father’s at that stage that she was unable to stop it taking his life as well as what was left of his magic.”

  “Oh my God,” Natasha said. “That must have been a traumatic experience.”

  Fox shrugged, as though the event had no meaning to him anymore. “Not as traumatic as you would think. I was glad he was dead. I was fifteen and ready to start studying for a trade. My father’s death meant I could choose to become a teacher instead of a wizard. It was the best thing that could have happened to me.”

  Natasha wished to change the subject. Talking about his father did not seem to bother Fox, but she knew what it was like to put on a brave face. “I understand why you became a teacher, but why become a weapons maker as well?”

  Fox smiled. “Because I love weapons. I may not be allowed to use them, officially, but this way I get to hold them, test them, practice with them. And I am very good at what I do. A workshop has been built out the back of where we live and I tend to spend a lot of time there.”

  “So if you agree to teach me, would my lessons include how to make the weapons?”

  Fox didn’t bother to give the question any thought. “No.”

  It was the answer Natasha had been expecting and the curtness of the reply did not put her off asking her next question. “Tell me something. Why does Komi want me to be taught all about what it is he does and why?”

  Fox looked at her thoughtfully. “That’s a good question and I’m not sure I know the answer. I thought it was because you were dating, but that seems not to be the case. I have a better question for you. Why do you want to know more?”

  Natasha didn’t need to think of the answer. “It’s a good distraction. Come with me.”

  She led Fox into the house. Before the door closed she heard Komi call out. “How come he gets to go into the house and I don’t?”

  “Because I like him,” she called back. She closed the door so she did not hear his response.

  Natasha led Fox to her lounge and pointed to a picture on the wall. It was of a man who was older than her. If he hadn’t been told of the family connection, Fox would never have guessed it. Natasha looked nothing like this man. “My brother,” she said. “Despite the age gap, we were very close. I was devastated when he died.”

  She then pointed to a smaller photo beside it. It was of an attractive young man, dressed in his graduation robes. “That’s Paul, my boyfriend. He lives abroad so we don’t get to see each other very often. Losing them both at the same time was hard and Komi’s stories take my mind off them.”

  Fox’s eyes flicked from one photo to the other, finally resting on Paul’s. “So he is the reason you are not interested in Komi.”

  “No. Komi is the reason I am not interested in Komi. Don’t get me wrong, I like him, I like him a lot, but he is a little too, I don’t know, full of himself I suppose, for me to see him as anything other than a friend.”

  “I know what you mean,” Fox said. There was no hint of sarcasm in his voice.

  “He sometimes makes me feel like I’m a conquest and that as soon as he gets me into bed, he’ll move on to the next girl.”

  Natasha had been expecting Fox to defend his friend, but he didn’t. “I can understand why you feel like that. He does tend to have a lot of short term relationships and likes to brag about the women he has slept with. He has never spoken about you like that, however.”

  “I’m going to shower,” Natasha said. “I’ll give you something to look at while I’m gone.” She went into her bedroom and returned a few minutes later with a bag, which she dropped at Fox’s feet.

  “Take a look,” she said. “Just try not to break anything.”

  When she returned to the lounge, dressed in a light summer dress, which her wet hair was making damp, Fox was still looking at her weapon.

  “What is it?” he asked. It had two thick metal chains attached to the top of a strong wooden handle. On the end of each chain was a spiked metal ball. It was heavy to lift and looked, and felt, lethal.

  “It’s a flail. A medieval weapon. It was designed to kill someone wearing armour. Hit someone on the head with that and they won’t be getting up again.”

  “This is really impressive,” Fox said. “Can I try it out?”

  “No, you can’t,” Natasha said quickly. “Who knows what you will end up damaging. It’s for display only.”

  Fox was not going to give in that easily. “Can I borrow it? We have a practice room for weapons training. Nothing in there can get damaged.”

  “No.” Natasha held out her hand and Fox reluctantly handed the flail to her.

  “I’ll agree to teach you everything you want to know, in exchange for you letting me use this,” Fox said.

  “I haven’t said I want you to teach me,” Natasha pointed out.

  “No, but you will.”

  Demon Blood

  When they returned to the garden, Lukine was lying on one of the sunbeds and the others were still playing in the pool. They were now purposely aiming the ball at each other, hoping to cause some damage.

  “Competitive, aren’t they?” Natasha said.

  “You should see them when they train. I sometimes think the three of them are trying to kill each other.”

  Fox and Natasha sat at the table once more. “Why do you think I can understand your language?” she asked.

  “That’s easy. You have demon blood in your system. Every demon can understand our language from when they are first born, even if they can’t speak it. It isn’t something that has to be learnt. So, the question you should be asking is, how do you have demon blood running through your veins without knowing about it.”

  Fox then had Natasha run him through her life, from when she was born until the present moment. She spoke of being the youngest of three children. Her brother was really only a half-brother, on her mother’s side. His father had died and his mother remarried a while later, with Natasha and her older sister being the offspring of the second marriage.

  Her sister, Sandra, travelled a lot with her work, so had been unable to look after Lucy when her parents died. Natasha went on to explain that her parents were normal people; neither of them could be demons.

  “Is it possible that you are adopted?” Fox asked.

  “Of course not. Jim would have told me if I was. There is no way my brother would have kept something like that from me.”

  “Then I’m at a loss. Maybe you don’t have demon blood and there is another explanation.”

  Then he looked at Natasha intently. She was beginning to feel uncomfortable when he suddenly asked, “Do you trust me?”

  The question took Natasha by surprise. “Trust you? I hardly know you.”

  Fox took a vial of red liquid from his pocket and put it on the table in front of her. “That is a magic potion. We drink it whenever we are injured. No matter how serious the wounds are, this will heal them.”

  “Okay,” Natasha said. She had no doubt that Fox was telling her the truth. Why would he lie t
o her? She picked it up and looked at it closely. The liquid was the colour of blood.

  “We have discovered that it only works on demons. It has adverse effects on those with solely human blood. I want you to drink it.”

  Natasha didn’t like the sound of that. “What do you mean by ‘adverse effects’?”

  “Headaches, nausea, temporary paralysis. Even death, in some cases.”

  Natasha put the vial down. “And you want me to drink it?”

  “Yes.” He said it so calmly he had to be winding her up. She studied him, but there was nothing in his expression to suggest that he was.

  “Even though it might kill me?”

  “Yes.”

  Natasha got up and walked over to the pool, taking the vial with her. Leaning on the fence, she called out to Komi. “Fox wants me to drink this. Should I?” She held the vial up so he could see what she was talking about.

  “No. That’s way too dangerous.”

  “Okay,” she said and returned to the table. She never took her eyes off Fox as she pulled out the stopper, poured the contents of the vial into her mouth and swallowed.

  She shuddered as the potion made its way down her throat. It was bitter, but not unbearably so. From the pool, she could hear Komi swearing. “May the Creator have mercy,” she heard Bolene say.

  Fox remained silent, watching her for any sign of a reaction. What he would have done if there had been one, she had no idea.

  “How do you feel?” he eventually asked.

  “Fine,” she said. “I feel absolutely no different.”

  “Well that answers that question. You are definitely a demon.”

  By this time, Komi was out of the pool and through the gate. He ran over to Natasha and grabbed hold of her, shaking her. He had gone pale. “In the name of the Creator, Natasha, why did you do that?”

  She was touched that he was panicking. It showed he actually did care about her.

  “Fox thought it was a good idea, you didn’t. I decided to trust Fox.”

  Komi let her go and stepped back, running a hand through his wet hair. “That was a stupid risk to take. It could have killed you.”