Matched With A Demon

by Ripley Proserpina

  “Well, when she wakes up. We can ask her. And then you can leave us alone.”

  The side of his mouth turned up, softening his stone features, so she found herself smiling in response. “I hate to remind you, but you’re the ones in my house.”

  7

  Armaros

  The human hummed excessively and off-tune. Her voice was a mosquito in his ear he couldn’t bat away. She also ignored him, which he didn’t like. Her gaze flitted around his home, pausing on furniture, staring out the window, never landing on him. An hour passed before her humming stuttered to a stop.

  “Is this Earth?”

  “What?” He stared at her in confusion.

  “You don’t have to look at me like I’m an idiot,” she stated, offended.

  “Yes, this is Earth.”

  “I wondered, you know, if I was staring out at another dimension. Or if we were in the clouds, or Heaven, or Hell. You can both disappear—it’s not a huge leap.”

  “No, I suppose not,” he hedged. She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to continue. “This is my home, on Earth.”

  “Why do you even need a house? Can’t you poof wherever you need to go? You could probably poof into a hotel without paying—poof out—poof. Poof. Poof.”

  He could, but he liked Earth. It was his place. He could get lost in the masses and disappear from the eyes of the Fallen. In his home, he could relax, even if nothing more than closing his eyes for a night. No one came here begging favors or forgiveness. He could just be.

  “It’s a space I don’t need to share,” he answered thoughtlessly. Until he answered, he hadn’t realized he would.

  Nodding like she understood, she continued to brush the girl’s hair off her forehead. With Delia’s eyes closed, pink lips pursed, her features were familiar. Leaning his elbows on his knees, he edged forward staring at her intently.

  Her face.

  A memory flashed through his mind. Waking in a desert, his body aching and wings broken. He saw his sister, unconscious, after their unending fall, wings draped over her body like a shawl.

  Their faces were the same. This child and his sister’s. How could that be? Anxiety flooded him and he stood, pacing around the room. Fallen didn’t have children. They created demons from the souls they gathered, infusing them with power and twisting them to their purpose. Their bodies weren’t capable of—

  The girl yawned, displaying pearl-white teeth. Her eyes opened, the dark-cherry color meeting his.

  Apparently, they were capable of having children. At least, his sister was.

  “You found us.” She was teasing him. For whatever reason, the girl stopped running. She wanted him to catch them, wanted both of them alone with him.

  “Yes. You’re very clever hiding here.”

  Her arms stretched over her head. She turned, peeking over her shoulder at the human who gave her an indulgent smile. “Cheeky.” Lifting Delia, Lucia placed her on the couch while she swung her legs to the floor. She groaned, cracking her neck. “This guy has some questions for you.”

  Delia met his eyes. “Do you?”

  It was disconcerting, the child’s mix of wisdom and innocence. Nonetheless, he plodded forward. “I do.”

  Reaching for the human’s hand, she played with her fingers. “Okay.”

  “Who is your mother?” He needed confirmation.

  Red eyes met his. “Vasanthi.”

  The bottom dropped out of his world. He could actually hear thousands of years of beliefs clatter to the floor like pots and pans.

  “Do you know what she was?”

  Her blonde head bobbed. “Yes. She’s like you. Fallen.”

  A breath caught his attention, the human’s eyes were wide, the whites seeming to expand and her hand went to her throat.

  “Where is she now?”

  Her eyes dropped to the hand holding hers and she shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Was it possible this was some game his sister played? Was she so bored? No. It was not in his sister’s nature to jest like this.

  He considered forcing her to answer, but if the power she’d shown earlier was any indication of her ability, he’d be wasting his time. A word came to mind. One he hadn’t spoken in time immemorial. “Please.”

  A tear fell on the human’s hand and then another. They were human tears, Fallen didn’t cry, demons didn’t cry. “She’s dead. She and my father.”

  “Dead?” He shook his head. “She can’t be dead.” His kind couldn’t die. The only one capable of killing—“Dead,” he breathed.

  Standing, he walked to the window and pressed his hands against the glass. One push and he could break it. A prickle of pain began along his shoulder blades. His wings throbbed, begging to be released. He could fly out of here and never come back.

  His earlier anger at his sister dissipated. She’d discovered something he never knew was possible. But more than that, she seemed to have found a way to connect with who she used to be.

  Guilt. It was he who had been troubled; he who’d yearned for more than the worship he’d been created for.

  If not for him, his sister never would have fallen.

  The pain burned at his back. He let the tips release, and his skin split. He held his wings there, furled and hidden while his body ached.

  His sister was no mindless drone, but her will was nothing like his. Everything she’d done after falling, he’d strong-armed her into. Creating demons, hoarding power, souls. All of it his idea. When he fell, he fell hard, embracing his punishment. If he were supposed to be bad, then he would be the worst there was.

  “I don’t understand,” the human’s voice cut through his musings. “Why didn’t your mother send you to him in the first place?”

  8

  Lucia

  The man stared at the glass like he was ready to smash through it. Delia stared at him, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

  “Stay here,” Lucia whispered.

  “Mister…” She remained wary as she approached. At no point did he acknowledge her presence. One hand touched the glass, fisting tightly. He studied the expanse of the city, but Lucia got the sense he didn’t see any of it. Without thinking, she lightly touched his shoulder. He jumped, spinning and narrowing his eyes as he glanced at her hand, and then pointedly, at her.

  “Sorry.”

  Shrugging, he went back to the window.

  Lucia struggled to come to a decision. He seemed to be in pain. She couldn’t help but want to help him, even after his thoroughly asshole moves. A voice whispered in her ear, Why do you care? He hurt you. He’ll hurt you again if you give him the chance.

  Ignoring it, she tried again. “My name is Lucia,” she offered as an olive branch. He’d taken it before, now she gave it freely.

  “Lucia.” The name slipped from his lips, accented in a way that made her shiver. His eyes cut to hers, head lowering. “I already know. Why offer it now?”

  Taking a deep breath, she refused to rise to the bait. “Because now I’m giving it to you. It’s my choice. And you’re Delia’s uncle. We should know each other.”

  “Why?” He rounded on her, stepping into her space until she was forced back. “Why do you think we should know each other? You are nothing to me. Nothing to her.” Blue eyes flashed in Delia’s direction. “You are no one.”

  “I am someone to her,” she replied, refusing to back down. “I care about her.”

  Eyes closing, he laughed, then shook his head and moved away. “Stupid.”

  His words were meant to hurt, and they did, but somehow Lucia knew his anger wasn’t at her. He was confused, overwhelmed, and lashing out at the nearest target.

  “Maybe,” she shrugged. “But she’s with me now.”

  “Oh,” he scoffed. “She’s with you, because you’re what? Enamored of her?”

  Her feelings were deeper, but when she opened her mouth to argue he steamrolled over her.

  “There has never been a creature like her
in all of time. And somehow you? You, the what? Perpetual student—How old are you, anyway? You’re prepared to raise her? Mold and shape her?”

  Feeling her cheeks flush, she struggled to respond.

  “No quick answer? No pithy rejoinder? You’re a fool if you think you are ready for a child like her.” He rounded on Delia, eyes darkening to black. Behind him rose a cloud, stygian and thick. It followed him, a veil of malevolence seeping from his pores.

  Jumping between him and Delia, she held out her hands. “Stop.”

  He ignored her.

  “How did she die?” His words were harsh, merciless. He stared over her shoulder at Delia. “Delia. How did your mother die?”

  “Stop!”

  He advanced on her, the cloud rising and swallowing her. It was alive, and it smothered her. A manifestation of every doubt and fear she ever had, she could hardly breathe beneath it. It whispered to her, you’ll never be anything, you’ll always be alone, no one loves you, you’d be a terrible mother, give up, give in.

  Stubbornly, she pushed through it, knowing Delia was hurting on the other side and she needed her. And the man—fuck, when she got out of here, she was getting his name—needed her, too.

  Like moving uphill through a blizzard, she finally reached the crest of the darkness and collapsed. Kneeling, hands against the cold marble floor, she caught her breath. “Stop,” she panted.

  Delia stood, feet planted on the couch, her gaze fixed angrily on her uncle. Before her eyes, an answering cloud rose around the child. Was it possible there was a color blacker than black? If so, Delia created it. Small body vibrating with energy, her hair began to whip around her head.

  “Enough!” Lucia yelled. Pushing herself to her feet, she stumbled to Delia, grabbing her. The cloud immediately disappeared and black eyes met hers. “Enough, Delie.” There was a sound like a window shutting out a storm. “Enough,” she repeated. “Both of you.”

  Whatever anger held the man up abandoned him. He collapsed, falling onto his butt. His arms hung limply off his knees and he stared at his hands like he’d never seen them before.

  “You’re both hurt, you’re both scared. But you have each other, and you have me.” At her pronouncement, the man looked up. “Well, Delie has me. You… Never mind.”

  Delia trembled, laying her head on Lucia’s arm. Smoothing the child’s now wild hair, Lucia continued, “You have family. This is your uncle. That’s good, isn’t it? And maybe he has an anger issue, but he certainly seems like he could protect you if needed.”

  Lucia could feel his gaze on her, but she refused to glance his way.

  “You’re not going to leave me with him?” Delia’s voice trembled, her eyes wide and scared.

  “No.”

  “Yes,” he answered simultaneously.

  Pinning him with a glare, Lucia repeated, “No. I’m not leaving you with Uncle Grumpy-pants.”

  Delia giggled. “Maybe he needs an ice cream.”

  Lucia continued to watch him, pretending to contemplate her idea. “You might be right. Ice cream helps everything.”

  Lowering his eyes, he shook his head. “You think your joking is helping?”

  Smile disappearing, Delia shook her head. “No,” she answered her uncle in a tiny voice.

  Placing her hands over Delia’s ears, Lucia got his attention. “Fuck you. She’s a kid. Fucking fake it if you have to.”

  “Fake it?” His lip curled in a way that would have been sexy if he wasn’t pissed off all the time. “Someone murdered my sister, and you pretend it didn’t happen.” Standing, he pressed his palms into his eye. “Fuck!” he swore and disappeared.

  Slowly, she took her hands from Delia’s head.

  “You both said ‘fuck.’”

  Staring at the place where he’d disappeared, Lucia nodded. “Don’t say it. It’s a bad word.”

  With Delia’s uncle gone, Lucia decided to make them feel at home. She scoured the fridge for food, but there was none, and finally decided to call for takeout.

  “You like pizza?” she asked Delia, scrolling through her phone for a number.

  “No.”

  “No? What kid doesn’t like pizza? But you like ice cream?”

  “Everyone likes ice cream,” she answered absently.

  “I thought everyone liked pizza, too, but apparently, that’s not true.” When Delia stuck her tongue out, Lucia returned the gesture before continuing. “What do you like?”

  The wall suddenly became extremely interesting to the girl. “I can’t tell you,” she whispered.

  “Delia. Of course, you can tell me!” Unless… “Is it blood? Do you drink blood? Are you a baby vampire?”

  She threw her head back, laughing heartily. “No! I don’t drink blood.” Quieting much too quickly for Lucia’s taste, she went back to contemplating the wall.

  “Delia. Honey. If you need something, I will get it for you.”

  Delia held her hands out, staring at her arms. Dressed in a button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled, her arms appeared even more frail and skinny. “I haven’t had anything to eat since my mom and dad left.”

  “But the ice cream?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t get anything from it. I can taste it. I like it. But it doesn’t fill me up.”

  Though she was afraid to ask, Lucia plodded on, “What does fill you up?”

  Red eyes flicked to hers and away. “I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like…” Her eyes went to the ceiling. “Energy? I could get some from my mom, and a little from my dad, and then I was full.”

  Oh, my God, she eats souls. Closing her eyes and centering herself, Lucia allowed herself one second of freak out time. One. There. “Can you get what you need from me?” What am I doing? But Delia was so pale, and so gaunt. Was she starving to death?

  Her eyes got wide and she shook her head, pushing herself back and away from Lucia.

  “Deliashva…” The rest of Delia’s name was lost to her, so she corrected herself. “Delia. Can you get what you need from me?”

  “My dad said never to take it from anyone else.”

  “Honey, I bet he never meant for this to happen. But if he told you to find someone safe, he’d have known what you need to do.” She clapped her hands together. “So. How do we do this? You want me with a cherry? Or some cheese? A meatball?”

  Her words did what she intended, and Delia laughed before getting serious again. “Just stay there.” Keeping her eyes on hers, Delia climbed into her lap. “Stay still, keep your eyes on mine.”

  Her gaze caught and held. From the back of her head, down her spine, and all the way to her toes, something pulled at Lucia. It didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t comfortable either. The red of Delia’s eyes brightened, hypnotizing Lucia whose eyes began to close.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  The link was broken, and the cushions hit the back of her head. Delia was ripped away from her and icy blue eyes filled her vision.

  “Don’t be angry.” Was that her voice? It sounded too weak to be hers. “I’m fine.” A small gasp made her turn. “I’m okay, Delia.”

  Wiping her nose, the girl shook her head. “I’m sorry, Lucia. I didn’t mean to take so much.”

  “You let her do this? Are you insane? This is what I mean. This is why you’re unfit to care for her.”

  Her eyes wanted to close and she let them. “Shut up. You’re boring. All the time, blah, blah, blah.” Folding her hands under her face, she sighed. “I’m going to take a nap. Wake me up when you pull the stick out of your ass.”

  9

  Armaros

  Lucia. She looked like a Lucia. Dark curling hair, long dark lashes, that nose. Her face was much younger in sleep than when she was spewing snark at him.

  “What were you thinking?” He faced the child, his niece.

  “I don’t know.”

  Twice, now, he’d run away when things were intense. Emotions weren’t familiar to him, and his had run the gamut. He didn�
�t know what to make of this girl, or the human. Contemplating the death of his sister was enough to make him raze a city. And analyzing this human, who’d somehow gone from human to Lucia in the time it took him to have a tantrum, transformed him into an idiot.

  No more running. He’d stay until they figured this thing out. They.

  He and Delia. Of course.

  He meant he and Delia, not he and Lucia. A human had nothing to offer him.

  Delia crept closer to her, eyeing him warily like he would stop her. As if he cared if she gobbled up a dozen humans.

  Then why did you stop her from gobbling this one? He didn’t know, but he preferred not to think too hard on it.

  “Is she okay?” One small finger poked the human’s side.

  “She’s fine. But what were you doing?”

  She curled up next to Lucia, elbow leaning on her hip, arm slung around her legs. Searching for comfort, his niece found it in proximity to her chosen human. “I was hungry.”

  “Hungry?”

  “Yes. How do you eat?”

  “I don’t.”

  “You don’t? Even my mom ate.”

  “Did she?” He’d never seen Vasanthi eat. He was loathe to admit there were things he didn’t know about her, but the being in front of him reminded him he’d been in the dark when it came to his sister.

  “Yeah.”

  “Like you did?”

  “Yes. Sort of. She needed humans. I needed her and my dad.”

  “Interesting.” He studied her. She looked better than she had when he left. Color in her cheeks, eyes less sunken. Even her posture was better, less like she was curling in on herself. “How often do you need to eat?”

  “Every week or so.”

  “When was the last time?”

  Her eyebrows raised as if to say, duh, before she glanced at Lucia.

  “Before Lucia,” he clarified.

  “Oh.” The color left her cheeks. “With my dad.”