‘No but-but – they were there, they were everywhere. I could feel them… on me.’ Her friends exchange looks, brewing together their excuses as to why they have to leave. The fun’s over, it seems.
William peers over to Xander. ‘I’m disappointed in you. You said this wouldn’t happen again. You used your power on a human for your own amusement. What if Heret-Kau finds out? What if I wasn’t here? If you were this bad, you should have told me. Go feed before you do something else you’ll regret.’
Xander, still red-eyed and teeth gleaming, looks taken aback. ‘You’re the one who started it,’ he snaps, pointing to the surfboard, still frozen in place. A small detail I hadn’t even really thought about compared to Xander’s elaborate torture.
‘It is not the same. That wasn’t… intentional.’ The ice demon shifts his balance awkwardly and gives a long hard stare as if his own actions confused him. Snapping his gaze away, he returns his attention to the small red-eyed demon. For a moment, they both glare. Xander eventually concedes with an audible scoff, running off into the darkness, giving a final fleeting glance back to me as if he had just remembered my presence. In a moment of transparency, William sighs, turning to face the squabbling humans. ‘You stay here. I’ll fix this.’
I nod, frozen in place. Where did Xander go? Is he coming back? What’s going on? Thoughts run through my mind like an out-of-control train. The ice demon walks up to the humans, unaware of his presence. Tahlia’s friends have insisted on leaving, gathering their things together in a huff. William places a hand on the back of one girl and for a moment she must feel his touch as her eyes grow wide and her head turns to look behind her but before she can grab sight of her stalker, a light grows from the demon’s hand and her body jolts unnaturally. She collapses to the ground with staggered thuds, a small cloud breathing out from her mouth. It dissipates into the air.
The humans gasp as one by one, their friends collapse to the ground, unconscious. Surely, he is not killing them. It looks too kind and too gentle to be something so dark. Tahlia is next and relief touches her face as she falls into the unconscious, her breathing the most steady and peaceful of the group. He must be erasing their memory.
William lingers on Bryce, the demon’s eyes glancing back at me for a moment. He lays his hand on the human’s back. Bryce’s eyes land on me, hanging on the outskirts of the beach. ‘Hey, what’re you…’
He falls to the ground with a violent jolt. It seems the ice demon isn’t so gentle with him.
‘What do you mean he “needs to feed”? What does that even mean?’ I say through huffed breaths. When William had said there was a path to the manor through the coast, I had expected a well-trodden, somewhat walkable path, not a mountain hike in the dark of night on a rocky cliff face with violent ocean washing crashing below.
William waits impatiently for me to catch up to him, glancing at the sky. ‘Just give him some time. He’ll be back soon.’
‘I didn’t even know you guys ate. What exactly do demons eat? No. Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. It’s something weird, isn’t it? Wait, if you eat, does that mean you…?’
William groans, turning his back to me as he continues up the path. ‘I preferred you when you were scared of us. There was a lot less talking.’ He pauses, contemplating. ‘Then again, there was also a lot more spitting.’
I laugh quietly, causing William to glance back, surprised. We both look away. I hear the rocks crumble as I feel the weightlessness. A drop in the stomach. Oh no. William appears in seconds, gripping my arm and pulling me close, away from the collapsing edge. ‘Be. Careful.’
The cool chill radiates from his touch as I’m acutely aware of his hand on my lower back. Looking up, his moonlit face is just inches away from my own. He quickly pulls his hand from my back. I swallow hard. ‘I-uh yeah, thanks.’ Thank God for the night, as I’m almost certain I can feel my cheeks flushing. It’s just the hike. Physical exercise has never been my strong suit. That’s the only reasonable explanation.
William follows my line of sight to his other hand still clasped on my arm. He snatches it back, looking away. ‘We need to get moving. It’s already dark.’
I nod silently, walking a few paces behind him. As we reach nearer to the top, a metal glint catches my eye. ‘Hey, what’s this?’ The demon’s eyes glide over it almost as if actively trying to avoid its presence.
‘Nothing. We’re almost there.’
The golden metal sheet swirls with designs of flowers and small cherub angels. A memorial. My eyes glance at its engraved inscription. Marina Stanwood. No star could shine as bright.
I look back to William, his eyes catching mine. He knows I know, but unlike at the lake, this time I say nothing. The sound of my huffs fill the cold night as we continue the remainder of our hike in silence, small drops of rain quickening our speed.
21
William
The manor is just how I remember it, large and foreboding. Despite the heavy rain, thoroughly trodden steps and cracks in the stone, it still manages to maintain its regal appearance. The manor looms in on me, a physical reminder of my human life; that I had once existed here as a living and breathing human being with a family and a future is a foreign concept to me now. I can barely remember their faces; instead, their memories form shapeless ghosts in my mind. I’m sure they would all be gone now, only myself and Marina remaining.
My feet, like blocks of lead, reluctantly force themselves up the steps. Unruly vines spiral upward around pillars of white in an effort to reach the sun. Climbers envelop the side of the manor, the structure slowly devoured by nature and time. It’s hard not to hesitate. Yes, this house was still occupied until recently but it was a lie when I had said that occupancy was the reason I hadn’t returned. Memories are like ghosts; they’ll haunt you if you give them the chance.
My hand rests on the old gold-plated handle, now worn through to its silver metal. It gives way with pressure. It’s unlocked, just as it had been when I had come previously. The double doors spread open with a heavy groan.
Siara takes no time to brush past, wandering through into the foyer with awe. She ambles, unable to find a particular place to settle. ‘This place is amazing,’ she whispers. Those emerald eyes shine wide, gleaming and glancing from chandeliers, to paintings and eventually to the grand staircase that lands in the centre of the room. Her mouth is left hanging ajar, a smile curling at the corners of her lips.
A thin layer of dust has settled on the furniture, an unnoticeable thing to a human in comparison to the grandness of the estate. The caretaker has clearly rescinded their responsibilities. Exhuming her sensibility, the human girl kicks off her shoes with a quiet huff as to not track mud across the marble floor, a considerate but ultimately redundant gesture. The people who would have cared about something like that are long gone.
Siara frowns as she passes the frames still left on the mantle, photographs inside removed. She picks them up, inspecting them, but she won’t find the answer she’s looking for. Placing them back down, disappointed, she looks back over her shoulder. ‘I’m going to look around some more.’
I nod. That is what we’re here for; she doesn’t need permission.
As she darts up the stairs, the purple pouch still fastened to her jeans sways back and forth. Diving her hand inside it, she turns the corner, out of sight. It’s unclear why she’s still eating them, especially now that she has access to real food. I can only gather it’s a force of habit.
A scuttle and scratching of claws on floorboards, both demon and animal, erupts from the room to my left. I enter, having sensed his presence already. Xander manages to snatch the small prey by its tail after a chaotic chase around the cloaked furniture. He pierces it with his demon claws. A soundless flash of lightning alights the room in a stark white, displaying Xander’s hunched body and the now limp body of the rat. He glances over quickly, finally noticing my presence. Recognition brings some degree of clarity to his crazed eyes. Averting his gaze, he continues feeding. A stream of deep red trickles down his fingers dripping rhythmically onto the panelled floor. Thunder grumbles in the distance. Listening for Siara’s footsteps, I make sure she’s not nearby. It would be best if she didn’t witness Xander in this state. Hungry is one thing, feeding is another. ‘Are you feeling better?’
Silence fills up the room. For a moment, I think he must still be angry at me for what happened earlier, but a few sheepish nods are visible in the darkness. Pulling away from the rodent, he watches as a small transparent cord coils out from within the flesh, floating upwards. The boy’s claws lace around it, pulling it back down to consume it. His eyes soften, settling back to their original murky green. The small rodent, on the other hand, disintegrates to ash in his hands, sieving through his fingers like sand, a small pile of bones left in the centre of his palm.
I snatch the other wrist and eye it closely. ‘Good. It’s healed.’ I can’t say throwing a weapon at a child, demon or not, sat particularly well on my conscience. Xander responds with an apologetic smile. I chuff. ‘I’d suggest apologising to Siara as well, she–’ I stop.
Where is Siara? I can’t hear her. I can’t sense her presence at all.
‘What’s wrong, Master?’
I walk back out to the foyer, closing my eyes to focus. There’s no sound of her. She’s not here. She’s gone. This is the same feeling as before, just earlier this morning at the townhouse. A warning runs through my body, the hairs on my arm raising. There’s someone else here. Something else.
They feel familiar. Closer and closer the presence draws. I know it but I don’t. Xander shifts, also sensing the otherworldly creature. I can’t tell where it is, but it’s near. Focus.
There. A figure passes by the side window on cue, their face distorted by the darting raindrops that race down the glass. Both Xander and myself move to the window, peering through. A slim girl in a yellow dress walks by, the rain causing it to stick to her narrow frame completely drenched. Her bare feet weave through the wet green grass. Mindlessly she trenches through mud, her head held high, her posture elegant, a slight sway to her hips. Definitely not Siara.
The wind flies her long hair around chaotically. Like a ghost, she wanders, listless. Thunder hammers from above, the storm brewing directly overhead. The word slips out.
‘Charlotte?’
