by Eliza Nolan
Inside, the fifties charm is overbearing, with its silver and powdery-aqua themed booths and counters.
The server—“Hi, I’m Francis”—is a tall, Korean-American guy in his twenties who speaks faster than I thought possible. He starts us out with coffee I don’t even think I need.
I didn’t sleep at all last night; I was up reorganizing the trailer…and snacking. If I’m being honest, I didn’t sleep the night before either. I don’t know if it’s because I have insomnia, or if demons don’t need sleep. I don’t like this. I like being in control, which is hard to do when you don’t know what’s happening to you. But what if it turns out I’m a monster. There’s so much I don’t know right now that I’m numb with fear.
The one thing I do know is that I’m so hungry I can’t even tell if I’m tired.
I massage my temples.
Next to me, Eva glares silently across the table at Ashton. He avoids her eyes, tapping out a random beat with his fork and knife. I couldn’t follow the whole salt conversation because Eva’s the one who takes AP everything, not me. But I’m pretty sure they ended the discussion on a not so happy note. I’ll ask Eva for the short version later.
I dive for the menu but have a hard time focusing. I want to order everything—everything without salt, that is. How can something be a flavor enhancer one day and a skin-boiling terror the next? Being a demon sucks.
I need something sweet to make me feel better. I rub my stomach and skim the menu. Pancakes drowned in syrup. That’ll work. I glance down the long counter, my eyes landing on a pie case. Pie for dessert. I close the menu and patiently tap the table with my fingers until Francis returns, scribbles down our order, and promises to make it a rush.
The diner is quiet, half empty, but the booth behind ours quickly makes up for that. The couple, a guy and a girl, are arguing about something. Their voices have ratcheted up so they’re shouting until it’s literally impossible to ignore them. The few other tables have gone silent to watch as the fight builds. It’s a train wreck in the making.
“What does he have that I don’t?” the man yells.
Eva cuts away from glaring at Ashton, and we raise our eyebrows at each other in unison. We turn to watch too.
“You didn’t even pretend to not look at him, Rita. Am I just supposed to stand by and watch that?”
“You’re not!” The girl shoots to her feet. “It’s over!” She races past our table and off towards the back of the restaurant.
Ashton can’t stop watching the couple disaster—his eyes are glued to the woman as she slips down the hall to the restrooms. Eva’s switched from couple gawking to eyeing Ashton critically.
The guy throws money on the table and storms out.
“I’ll be right back.” Ashton gets up. “I gotta make room for breakfast.” He also heads towards the tiny restroom hallway.
“Overshare, much?” I say to Eva.
But she doesn’t even smile, her eyes locked to Ashton as he saunters off. Once he’s out of sight she glances around and leans in. “What’s our game plan?”
“Eat breakfast!”
“I mean, what are we going to do with this guy? He knows things. He could be dangerous.”
“Well, yeah, but I’m a demo…I’m probably dangerous, too. We don’t know anything. And you said it yourself: he does know things. Maybe he can help. We definitely need to hear him out.”
“I know.” Eva frowns. “But promise me you won’t reveal too much to him until we’ve both decided he’s okay. Can you at least do that?”
“Fine,” I say. I take several packets of sugar and shake the contents before ripping them open and dumping them in my coffee.
Eva watches me stir in the sugar, opens her mouth to say something, but then thinks better of it.
Ashton emerges from the bathroom corridor a minute later with a swagger in his baggy-jean step. He slides back into the booth across from us and slumps in the seat. His mouth is curled into the slightest smile. He looks at ease. Almost buzzed. If he hadn’t told us he was a Guardian, I swear he could be buddies with the skaters at our school. What does it mean to be a Guardian? Is he part of some secret society that’s the keeper of the knowledge or something?
Francis finally brings my order to the table. Thank God. I douse the stack of pancakes in syrup and dig in.
“So, tell us why we need a Guardian,” Eva mumbles across the table to Ashton.
After a few giant bites of syrupy goodness, my hunger quiets just enough, and I turn my attention to Ashton, waiting for his response.
He looks around at the half-full diner, the people enjoying gut-rotting coffee and greasy breakfasts. “Maybe we should have chosen a less public place. We can talk after breakfast.”
Francis returns with Eva’s hash browns and cheese and Ashton’s measly English muffin. No wonder he’s so bony. Eva waits until Francis has gone before continuing.
“Nope.” She nails him with a glare that could pierce steel. “You have through breakfast to convince us you’re useful. Your current status in my mind is a mash-up of evil demon and psycho-stalker. So talk your way out of that.” She takes a gulp of her own coffee without removing her eyes from him.
Ashton watches as I shovel another chunk of pancake into my mouth, followed by another. His staring should make me self-conscious and make me stop gorging myself, but I’m too starved to stop. I don’t care.
Ashton reaches across and touches my plate. “You won’t quench the hunger this way.”
10
Grace
I stop chewing, put down my fork, and glance at Eva. She eyes him, leers at him. I know she doesn’t trust him, but if he can help me quench this need, if he can give me any clues, I’ll try anything.
I nod for him to elaborate.
“Hunger’s been growing inside of you, ever since that night, hasn’t it? Sugar helps a little, but you’re craving something more, aren’t you?”
I finish chewing my mouthful, and nod hesitantly.
“Have you figured out what you really crave, yet?”
“No. Do you know? I need something but I’m not sure what.” Please let him know how to end this hunger.
“For each demon it’s slightly different,” he says. “Most thrive on the emotions, usually suffering of others around them such as sadness, rage, pain, loss, or desperation. For some demons it’s more tangible; they crave the hearts or the brains of humans. Or even babies. Whole ones.”
I cringe and gag. Please God, I could never stomach that. I cover my mouth with both hands.
“There are also a few upper-level demons that require souls for sustenance.” He takes a paper napkin and twists it in his hands. “You don’t have to worry about that, though. The demons of that level are all ancient—older than the world itself.”
I turn to Eva and whisper, “Inanna.”
Eva presses her lips together and subtly shakes her head. She still doesn’t trust him.
“So, you know she’s not craving normal food,” Eva says, “but you don’t know what she’s craving?”
“Well, it’s probably not brains or babies, judging by her reaction to me mentioning them.”
I let out a shaky breath of relief. I don’t think I could ever hurt anyone, let alone eat them.
Ashton continues, “I’m guessing it’s some form of human suffering. That’s what most demons feed on. Pay attention to those around you. You should be able to sense the feelings of others. Pay attention to the types of emotions that draw you in. You’ll figure it out.”
I can do this. Sure. Feed on emotions people are already having. That sounds painless. I close my eyes and take in a slow deep breath, and then let it out. Then another, and another. The restaurant conversations have quieted since the yelling couple left. Through the near silence I can feel something else...underneath my hunger. It’s a trickle of emotions at first, but a lot of them, like the hushed voices of a far-off crowd. As I focus, the emotions get louder and louder until before long it’s a rumbl
ing stampede of every feeling I’ve ever felt, and some I haven’t. There’s worry, regret, love, boredom, fear, anxiety. As they flood through me, I do my best to focus on each one of these feelings in turn, waiting for one of them to spark something, to pull me in.
Nothing.
I roll my shoulders and shake out my hands and try again. I search around for more feelings in the sea of human emotions. A hint of anger lingers nearby, a splash of joy. But nothing resonates with my hunger.
Outside a siren ramps up into a blare, and I open my eyes and watch though the window as a fire truck pulls out into the street and rumbles by.
“Anything?” Ashton asks.
“I can’t sense anything. I mean. I guess I sense something, but it’s a lot, and I can’t tell what is what and where it’s coming from.” Stupid fire engine. It’s hard enough to focus without all the noise.
“It’s okay. You’ll learn to focus over time.”
“How long does it usually take?”
“That depends on the demon.” He folds his hands in front of him on the table and smiles sadly. “How quickly does the demon learn? How easy is it to access what the demon hungers for? How prevalent is that something in the world? Some demons feed on rage, for others it’s more specific, like the anger one feels after getting passed over for promotion.”
Within the tangle of everyone else’s emotions, I feel my own fear growing. I can learn, but if it all depends on how easy it is to access what I need…the way my luck is going, it could be the holy grail of emotions. What if I never find it?
“So…” My voice shakes. “What do I do in the meantime? Starve?”
Eva inches away from me in the booth. Does she think I might eat her?
“Do what you’re doing. Eating sugar helps. Meditation helps, too. Like any hunger, if you dwell on it, it will grow, so pushing it out of your mind is helpful. Meditation and yoga are great.”
“Demons do yoga?” Eva snort-laughs.
“Some do. You have no idea what the hunger is like,” he says to her.
I put yoga on my list of things to try—asap.
Eva eyes me again. “Once she finds what she craves, how does she...consume the suffering? Does it hurt? I mean, the human?”
I put my fork down again and wait for the answer. Unable to breathe.
“No,” Ashton answers.
I sigh.
“A human’s ‘suffering’ flows around them like a sort of invisible cloud. You only need to be in proximity to absorb it.” He pauses. “I guess there’ve been no scientific studies done, so it might hurt them somehow, but not in any way I can see. Although, I have seen demons deliberately stir up trouble for humans, just to drink their suffering. That’s why demons have a reputation for mischief. If they’re hungry, and nobody is suffering, they’ll find a way to make them suffer.”
I relax a bit. Even if—in an emergency starvation situation—I have to stir up mischief in order to cause a bit of grief, that’s not permanent. People bounce back from emotional stuff all the time. That’s what therapists are for.
Eva points an accusing finger at me. “Do not mess with me. My emotions are not your food!”
I glare at her, and then cram a pancake bite drenched in syrup into my mouth and chew. Like I would do that to her. She’s my sister. Annoyingly bratty at times, but still my sister. Unless…
“Would I know if I was feeding?” I ask through my mouthful of pancake.
Ashton chuckles. “Yes, you…It’s hard to explain, but you’ll know when it happens. It feels pretty amazing.”
“Is it safe for her to eat like that?” Eva nods at my plate. “She’s been eating non-stop for forever now. Won’t she explode soon?”
I slow my chewing. I’ve been wondering the same thing. I never feel full, but can I get full?
“Demons don’t have to eat, but when they do, they don’t really digest anything. It all dissipates and vanishes. It won’t even make it through to her stomach. Demons crave feelings. So right now she’s satiating her hunger with the feelings she gets from eating sugar. Not the sugar itself.”
“So, as long as it’s not salty, I can eat all I want.”
Silver lining.
“But there’s salt in everything.” Eva’s eyes harden and her cheeks redden.
Here we go…
“As long as it’s a small amount, like in baked goods, it’s fine. Remember, it doesn’t get digested, so trace amounts don’t usually do much. Anything that is salted though, stay well away from it.”
Eva grumbles and takes a bite of her hash browns.
Ashton straightens his glasses and scratches the back of his head, his hair still flat on one side where he slept on it. “So, don’t you guys want to know why you need a Guardian?”
Eva swallows. “You mean, it’s not to save Grace from eating Pringles? I thought you were just here to give her the scoop on how to demon.”
He tilts his head to the side. “Well, there is that, but there’s also a bit more going on. Let me give you a quick version of the bigger picture.” He crosses his arms and leans forward. “The demon world has always thrived in a state of chaos. There is no head honcho, no Devil or Satan, who rules everything. I mean, there are devils, and there is a Satan, but he’s only one of many high-level demons in a constant struggle for power. There are several groups—call them nations, armies, gangs, or cults, whatever—each of them lead by one or several of the higher-level demons.”
Demon cults? Fear floods through me. I grip Eva’s hand under the table, my palm sweating. This is why I didn’t research any of this. “I don’t want to join an army. I don’t want to join a demon gang.” I don’t care how much I can eat without getting full, I don’t want to be a demon. I am not cut out for this.
Eva squeezes my hand. “How is any of this happening without anyone noticing? I mean, if there was a constant demon chaotic war for power, wouldn’t humans figure that out?”
“No,” Ashton answers. “Because most of it is taking place in the demon world, which is one that, thankfully, most humans never see. While they’re alive, anyways.”
I lean back against the seat, relieved. “So I’m safe. Mom and Dad saved me. Saved us.”
Ashton sighs. “It’s not that simple. Normally, when a new demon is created, depending on their level, there’s fighting between the groups over which group the new demon will swear allegiance to. The higher level the demon, the more insane the fighting. But in your case—” he points to me “—it’s even more complicated, because you’re in this world. Most demons never make it to this world. And the ones who do are usually called here for specific purposes that place heavy restrictions and bindings on what a demon can actually physically do in this realm. You, however, are not only new and on the market, but also in this realm with very few restrictions. So it doesn’t matter what level demon you are, all the factions want you. Or they want to kill you for having too much potential power, because they already have a player in this world and see you as a threat.”
Allegiances? Restrictions? Demon Levels? Power?
I slam my hand down on the table. “Well, screw this!” My cheeks burn. “Can’t I just promise the demon world that I won’t choose sides or help anyone?”
“Demons lie,” Ashton says. “They’re known for it.”
“Then what should we do?” Eva asks. “Is there somewhere we can hide? Is there a way she can cloak herself so other demons can’t spot her?”
“Actually, you are cloaked,” Ashton answers. “You have some really strong magic protecting you. Both of you. It’s seriously high-level magic.”
“What? How?” Eva asks.
“I honestly don’t know. It’s not demon magic, it’s human. Maybe your parents did something.”
I twist the ring on my finger. “Then why do we need a Guardian?”
“Because no matter how strong a spell is, all magic can be unwound. If a demon is cunning enough, and there are plenty who are, they’ll figure out a way to get aroun
d your cloak.”
“You’re a demon, right? How did you find us?” Eva asks.
I drop my fork, my mouth hanging open. The gangly twig guy with glasses is a demon?
“What gave it away?” Ashton grins.
How the heck did she figure that out?
She nods towards the bathroom. “When you went to the restroom, you were following that girl who was in the fight with her boyfriend. She was all upset, and you could hardly contain yourself to wait long enough that it didn’t look like you were following her. Then, when you got back, you looked like you were satisfied.”
I look down at his plate, his English muffin still untouched. “You didn’t eat anything,” I say. “Why did you want to go to breakfast if you…demons don’t need to eat food. So what was it that you took from her?”
“She was feeling raging heartbreak. That is the very flavor of anguish that sustains me. Normally, I could have let it go, but if I’m going to help protect you, I need my strength. So when I saw the opportunity I took it.”
Of course, while I’ve been busy stuffing my face Eva’s been doing some serious observations. Ever since Inanna took our parents, I’ve been obsessed with protecting Eva. So much so that it’s hard to remember she’s not always so helpless. She’s pretty smart, too.
And this wiry guy is a demon.
Ashton turns to me and smirks. “Stop looking at me like I’m about to grow horns.”
That’s when I realize I’m re-analyzing every inch of him. His eyes, crystal blue, seem sharper now in the frame of his glasses. His ears, fairly average. His skin is pale but not overly so, with no scales or scars that I can see. Five fingers on each hand, two arms. No horns.
“Sorry,” I say. “But while we’re on the topic…” I run a hand over my own head. My hair is smooth and, thankfully, horn free.
“When do the horns come out?” Ashton asks the question for me. “Usually during a ritual or a battle, also sometimes when under extreme stress. But you can learn to control them over time. Hide or show them whenever you want. Sometimes I like to pull them out on Halloween. That way I don’t have to bother with costumes.”