The one-story building we are parked in front of is old and dilapidated. From the looks of it, it has been abandoned for years–possibly decades–with over twenty years worth of age and damage marring its facade.
“This is his office,” she says. She watches my face and her expression turns sour. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say. I don't want to scare her. “Let's go.”
We get out of the car, and she walks toward the building. My senses reveal what is going on when we get near. There is an illusion over this building–a weak one, but it's there. It also isn't human magic.
The door leading into this building looks newer than the rest of it. She presses her finger to a box on the wall and waits. A crackle of fuzz comes from the box, but I don't hear any words.
“Hi, it's Anna Romero. I have an appointment with Dr. Nate-lee,” she says. She waits for a response. There is another static transmission, and she smiles at me. “Thank you,” she responds again to no one and puts her hand on the door. After waiting a moment, she opens it.
I have seen a lot of weird things in an odd kind of way, but watching someone interact with an illusion was weird in a creepy kind of way. I really want to know what she sees. She steps inside and holds the door open for me, and I grab it and walk in. She greets an an empty space to her right and takes a circuitous route to sit down in a chair. It's almost like she had to move around something. I follow along and don't comment. I consider walking through whatever it was that she walked around, but I want to see where this goes. She starts talking to me as we, I assume, sit in a waiting room. I answer noncommittally, my eyes assessing the room until her talking breaks off. She looks in the same direction she had when she greeted the empty space before and nods.
“Ok, thank you,” she says and stands. “Here we go.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Here goes nothin.'”
She walks over to another door and opens it, gesturing for me to go in. I grab the door and hold it for her instead. “You go ahead,” I say.
She enters the room, and I inspect it as I walk in after her. This room is better than the decrepit area on the other side of the door. There are still broken windows and the walls are very damaged, but it is in much better condition. Anna walks across the room and sits on a couch, gesturing for me to take a seat next to her. It actually looks like what I would expect the office of a therapist would. The furniture in here is no illusion. There are also real bookshelves filled with books and other knick-knacks. There are certificates of degrees on the walls and brochures on the coffee table in front of the couch. It's a perfect stereotypical representation of the profession.
A large desk is centered in between two of the bookshelves. The desk is clean save for a nameplate on it that reads, 'Dr G. Natley.' Behind the desk, there is a high back chair that is swiveling slightly from side to side. I can just make out the top of someone's head before I sit down.
I can feel an aura coming from them, but there's something off about it. The strength seems too weak to be a demon, but there is definitely a demonic presence. It is not a demonically bonded wizard, either. I don't read that kind of energy. Another half demon possibly?
My thoughts swirl with the possibility. I decide to keep playing along and get comfortable next to Anna on the couch. After a moment, the chair turns fully around to reveal a small man. The thin wisp of a man is pale in color, his dark hair looks stringy and greasy and stops just short of a pair of spectacles sitting high on his hooked nose. He is wearing a dark green button down shirt, dark brown slacks and shoes and an unbuttoned dark brown blazer with elbow patches. He stands up to walk over to a chair closer to the couch we sit on.
“Hello Anna and–” the man's eyes go wide when they land on me. They flick between Anna and I and he hunches in on himself, looking even smaller.
“A–Anna, where is Bradley today? Who is your friend?”
“Hi Dr. Nate-lee, this is my friend, Mike,” she says.
I lean forward and offer my hand. “Hi Doctor, I'm glad to meet you. Anna has told me a lot about you,” I say with false enthusiasm.
His breathing hitches and becomes more rapid. He shakes my hand tentatively, and I feel more of the demonic energy.
“Yes . . . we've . . . made progress with . . . uh,” he stammers while he falls back into a chair opposite the couch then shuffles to sit comfortably.
“Are you okay?” Anna asks him, noticing his obvious discomfort.
His eyes dart to her again before returning to rest on me. He licks his lips. There is a flash of his weak aura that tells me he is nervous–which is clear–but also, that he is a demon. And he seems like he is bottom of the barrel hierarchy-wise.
Anna is staring at him more and more critically.
“Hey, what happened to your burn marks? They look completely healed, that's amazing!” she says.
He smiles weakly and stands up, buttoning his blazer. “Yes. . . Treatments have, uh . . . Excuse me, please,” he says, inching toward the exit. “I have to speak to my secretary. I'll be right back.” He drops all pretenses of a calm retreat and bolts for the door. I burn and we reach the door as he opens it. We put a hand on it and slam it shut, glaring down at him and grabbing his chest with our other hand. His jacket starts smoking in our grasp as we lift him off the ground. A look of genuine terror is plastered to his face, and he screams.
“No, mercy Lord Alastor!” he yells, and tries to flee from me. My burn extinguishes immediately, and I shrink back down.
“What did you say?” I ask, dropping him to the floor. He lands on his feet and lowers his arms before straightening his clothes, tamping out the smoking section of his jacket and shirt.
“My apologies, Mikael. You reminded me of your father.”
Oof. That hits like a punch in the gut.
“My father? Who the hell are you?”
“I have been given the name Gnat. I work for your father, Lord Alastor.”
A rush of emotions bubbles in my chest, and I have to take a few deep breaths to extinguish the embers that threaten to reignite the burn again. It succeeds, but my void pulses out before I can cap it. The energy shatters the illusion, and there is a sharp intake of breath behind me.
“Why are you here? Why her?” I ask, looking back at Anna for the first time. She is gaping at the room with her hand over her mouth. I can't tell if it's from my burn or if it's the absence of the illusion that has her so stunned.
Perhaps it's everything. I thought she was being pretty cavalier about the many things that have happened, but maybe her brain has just caught on that this is real?
“Anna?” I prompt.
Gnat sighs. “I was tasked with retrieving the artifact of power for your father. It was in her possession, and I had to get… creative to find a remedy for the situation. I still have no idea why she was so resilient.”
“Her mind was fortified against manipulation, that's why!” I growl, looking back at him.
His eyes widen quickly at my outburst, but he recovers. “That does explain it,” he says, looking off into the middle distance, seemingly unfazed by the implications of what he has done.
“You almost tore her consciousness apart!” I wasn't prepared for something like this. This was not in my plans for today. I turn to look at Anna when she shoots past me, knocking the little man to the ground and straddling him. She pulls her arm back to punch him and he raises his hands, gathering energy. I nullify it with a wave of my own energy and whatever he was planning to do fizzles out. Anna unleashes her trauma on him, and I don't stop her. She pounds her fists across his diminutive frame over and over again, and rightfully so. Once she has exhausted herself, she wheezes and finally falls back away from him. Her wheezing transforms into body shaking sobs as Gnat whimpers on his back beside her. His face is a bloody mess. I kneel to check on her and realize the blood is not all his. Anna's knuckles have opened and are bleeding as well. Gnat turns to lay on his side and spits out blood and something that looks like it might be a part of a tooth.
“That's on you,” I say looking down at him. I lean in and hold her. Her body is vibrating with the buzz of spent adrenaline and the now quiet sobs that shake her frame.
“I'm sorry. This is my fault, again,” I say.
She looks up at me and shakes her head, then normalizes her breathing with a few deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth.
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“What is?” she asks, through the breaths.
“All of it. This guy works for my demon father. I'm assuming that he was told to do this for some reason,” I say, looking down at the heaving broken little demon. “You and I need to talk. You'd better be here when I get back.”
He gurgles in response and his head falls back to the floor. He stays where he is lying.
I help her up and usher her out. She gapes open-mouthed at the building as we exit. With the illusion gone, she sees what the building was the whole time. She hands me the keys, and I take them, helping her get into the passenger seat. I watch her for a moment before starting the car, but she just looks out the window at the building.
Things are getting confusing again. While the drive back is mostly silent with her continuing to look out the window for most of it, my head is abuzz with questions that I want to ask Gnat. There are so many that I don't even know where to start. This all seems so petty and more involved than my father has ever been. I start to wonder if maybe that demon doesn't actually work for my father. Gnat said his name, but I have already forgotten it. It started with an A, or maybe an E. I don't really remember. I start guessing at what it could be when Anna nudges me.
“How come you didn't see it?” she asks.
“Huh? See what?”
“How did you know what it was? Why didn't you see the building like I did?” she asks. “I thought you fixed my head.”
We're still a good distance from my house, and I was kinda hoping this would wait so I don't have to explain again when we get back home. I've already explained so much lately that I don't want to come off as irritable toward her, but it makes sense that she wants to know.
“I did,” I say with a sigh. “Well, we did. But that building wasn't necessarily mind affecting magic. It was an illusion, and it was demon magic. I saw through it because demons can't fool other demons with illusions. Anything another demon casts that affects our perception doesn't work. If it could, it would be hell for the hierarchy.”
“So demons can't use magic on other demons?”
“Oh, they definitely can. Just not mind-affecting magic. Even my ability to make people avert their gaze from me doesn't work on other demons. I learned that last year when I tried to make two demons look anywhere but at me. It didn't work. They knew I was there the whole time,” I say. It was lucky that they hated each other so much. I thought I was hidden, but it turned out that my presence was just inconsequential to them. Either one of them could have killed me without breaking a sweat. In the end I did come out on top–kind of. “So they just beat each other senseless then blew each other apart with destructive 'magic.'” I use air quotes when I say magic, and she notices.
“Why did you say 'magic' like that?” she asks, mimicking my quotes.
“Because it's not really magic–it's just an innate ability.” I have never had to talk this much about my demon half. To be honest, I didn't even know that I knew this much about demons, but I suppose I have forgotten more than she will ever need to know. Unless she delves into demonic studies, but that would mean that she was making deals with demons for abilities beyond her reach . . . I don't think that is something she would do with her fear of magic, but perhaps I should be paying more attention to the kinds of questions she is asking. “We're born with them, and 'abilities' is a more accurate term than magic. Humans use magic, and it requires years and years of study and preparation to use it with half the ease a demon can.”
“Do you not count yourself as human?”
“Mmm, I would say I have a healthy portion of a foot in each door,” I say after a short pause.
She nods and puts her head back against the window, staring out at the passing landscape. “How was that guy using demon magic . . . or abilities? Did he make a deal?” she asks.
I assume she is referring to Gnat. “He's a demon,” I say with a shrug.
“That guy was a demon?” she asks incredulously, lifting her head off the window again.
“Yeah, they're not all crazy big or stunningly beautiful. A large portion of the population look like him and just want to live their lives. It takes a lot of power to be able to get here from their realm. Most need help. But there are enough demons in this realm that you have most likely met a few without even knowing it. The ones that make the trip here without help are much more capable and usually come with an agenda.” She shakes her head and leans again.
“You make some of them sound like refugees,” she says after chewing on her lip for a moment.
I shrug. “In a sense, yeah. Pretty much. Humans and demons aren't far off. Both do horrible things to each other and to their own. The powerful make the weaker fight their battles of pride or conquest. They use silver tongues and empty promises to unite the populace under one banner, either through religious or patriotic zeal. Doesn't really matter which really. Either way, a zealot is a zealot.”
I glance at her intermittently as she continues to watch out the window at the scenery passing by. “Can I ask you a question?” I ask.
“Sure,” she says, still not looking at me.
It may seem like an odd time, but I want her to think about normal human stuff for just a little while. There's been a lot of supernatural events, and I don't want her to spiral again. I don't know a lot about her life right now besides what I have seen, so the only thing I can think to ask her is about Brad.
“Don't feel like you have to answer. You said that there's some kind of feeling of resentment toward him now, so what is going on with you and Brad? What do you feel about it? Is it anything I can help with?”
She's quiet for a moment before she sighs deeply. “I don't know,” she says, and I don't push it. That was kind of a cheap move to get the questioning to stop, and I don't feel good about it. We both let the silence set in. I'm not sure what she is thinking about now, but a lot has happened in a short time.
Shortly before we are back to my house, she sits up and I can see her mouth working again. She stops and shakes her head looking frustrated.
“Are you okay?” I ask as I put the car in park.
I get a sidelong glance from her for a beat before her head fully turns. She looks me up and down before her eyes finally rest on mine.
“I only saw it for a second but, is that what you really look like?” she asks.
Honestly, I had been waiting for this since I burned in front of her. I'm surprised it took her this long to ask. I lost my cool back there, ready to risk it all over what he’d done. It was unclear which she was really bothered by, the illusion shattering or me changing. I guess it could’ve been both. Averting my gaze, I gather my thoughts.
“I look like what I always have. This is me, right here. That,” I say gesturing to mean when I changed, “was us. That wasn't a full transformation, but that's kinda what we look like when we're in sync with a common thought or goal.”
“And what was your goal? Was it to hurt him?”
“Yes,” I say. Hesitation wouldn't be my friend right now, she is watching me too closely.
“Why?”
I exhale a puff of breath and look away. “Because of what he did to you,” I say, meeting her eyes again. “I never respond well when humans get caught up in spells, abilities or non-human and demonic affairs. Especially when it involves the people I care about.”
She studies my face. “Why'd you stop?”
“Because he caught me off guard. He called me by my father's name and asked for mercy. I'm not really into being compared to that guy.”
She acknowledges my response and pivots her line of questioning. “Have you ever hurt anyone while you were like that?”
I rub my chin and look away again. This is hard. “Yes,” I say curtly
“Was it Christine?”
“Among others,” I say, still looking away. “But for her, she got hit while I was trying to grab her to stop her from hitting me. The others were on purpose.” I can feel her staring at me, but I don't really want to see her expression. I've made confessions about myself to people I thought I could trust before. It's what drove me to travel with a shadier crowd in my youth–there was no judgment. It's also the reason why I don't let many people get too close to me. The look I get is always the same when they see me, see us. I am sure I'm going to see it now, but to my surprise, I feel her hand on my arm.
“That's not you anymore though, right?”
I finally look at her, and what I was dreading is absent. The expression on her face is not accusatory or disappointed, it's nearly pleading. I don't quite get why.
“Right,” I say quietly, turning my attention forward again.
“I hurt that guy on purpose. It didn't make me feel good. He messed with my head so much, but hurting him back didn't do anything for me. I actually feel sorry for him,” she says.
“That makes sense, but he definitely could've hurt you back. I don't know what he can do, but he was starting to use an ability when you were hitting him. He's not the physical type, so I assume he had some kind of damaging ability ready, but it fizzled out.”
Her eyes go wide for a moment.
“That was lucky, I guess.”
“Yeah,” I say. I'm not sure where she's going with all of this questioning, but I don't feel that I need to tell her that I helped. She needed that to happen, and I understand that.
“Thank you for everything you've done for me, Mike. I know I've been asking a lot of questions. Some of them may have come off as an attack, but I don't blame you for other people trying to use your connections to get to you.” She leans toward me, and I get chills, but it's not from her proximity. Well, not only from that. She kisses me on the cheek and sits back. I wish I could revel in the feel of the touch of her lips, but instead, I lean back and turn, staring behind us. There is a demonic aura moving toward us–and it's moving fast.
She follows my gaze. “What?”
I put the car back in drive, and the tires screech when I push the pedal to the floor. The tires of the car spin and the front of the car bounces a few times before we start moving down the road as fast as her car will go.
“When I stop, you get in this seat and get away from me as fast as you can,” I say. Her eyes are on my face again, but she doesn't protest.
“Okay.”
This aura feels familiar, and it is eager for a confrontation. I read momentary confusion in its aura as we pull further away from it. I have to get clear of the neighborhoods and make sure Anna runs before this being attacks. I speed through the streets and narrowly make it through some near-collisions with other cars while making my way to the fields outside of town. By some measure of luck, I don't pass any cops and make it just outside of town with only a few honks and certain hand gestures directed my way. The aura starts moving quickly, having rapidly regained the lost ground. The brakes pump as we skid to a stop, and I jump out.
“Continue this way and circle around back into town on a different road. I'll call you later, I promise,” I say.
“Okay,” she says again and watches me until she drives past me and continues down the road. Hopefully, I will be able to keep that promise.