I stumbled from square to square on the sidewalk, trying to think of what they were called. Pavers, maybe? Flagstones? The smell of rotten milk, the pushing through oily air, the occasional breeze that brought despair, loneliness, like being the sole soul anywhere, desperate for human contact, these things drew me closer as much as a smart man, heck, a reasonable, rational man would turn away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was, of all of them, Rayya, who centered me. Who kept me from drifting with the occasional touch on my back, guiding me and anchoring me to what was real. The spriggan sibs didn\u2019t touch me, didn\u2019t touch anyone that often. They had talked about it, once, but we were (or at least I was) drunk on blue wine at the time. I didn\u2019t remember much about it, other than that were some kind of repercussions to it. It sounded lonely to me, but they weren\u2019t human. I had to remember that. They weren\u2019t human.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Streets passed by, alleyways filled with fluttering plastic bags, dancing circles of leaves and the detritus of what we call civilization. Heavy summer scents of proto-sewage, spoiled foods that had no life left in them, cracked concrete and asphalt made more of pieces than whole, and the sun dipped degrees behind the mountains, a twilight with a distant glow, like fire on the horizon. I love where I live, and the sunsets on the eastern plains are incredible, but this night it was a nuclear glow, a warning, a doom on the threshold of night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I staggered, drunkenly, nauseated between occasional brief contact with Rayya. Sometimes when she extended a hand I felt a cold, icy breeze. It was kind of refreshing before it stole your breath. Rayya, the icicle. Sprigginsicle. I\u2019d workshop it. I thought ironically warm thoughts about her for a moment, before my brain scrambled to remember she wasn\u2019t human. She was here for her own reasons. All of them were here for their own reasons.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He stood at the corner, leaning against a free newspaper stand. I could not have placed him as remarkable in any fashion. He looked like a guy, just another average white guy. Average height, average weight, bit of scruff, clothing matched just about anything anyone else was wearing. His hair was a little grown out, and that was one of the first things that started to make me see him. There was a little more. A little more length in his fingers, a little more length in his teeth. His eyes were closed as we came up to him, but when he opened them, I didn\u2019t need to ask. I knew. Eyes do tell you a lot. I don\u2019t know if anyone can actually see a soul in them, but this time, I could see the lack of one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Don\u2019t ask me what colour they were. It wasn\u2019t television \u2014 they weren\u2019t black through and through, they weren\u2019t unnatural, they weren\u2019t even just empty\u2026 they were hungry. They were wrong. What looked back at me had something that didn\u2019t fit here. It was bigger and angrier than the shell of skin around it. It was horrible.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was terrible. It was lonely. It missed its brothers. It had no conscience, and while it had been content to seduce and entice it was becoming impatient to find something, anyone that could open a door. So what if a door opened both ways? It wanted to go home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For a moment, I felt pity. Sympathy for the Devil is a trope, isn\u2019t it?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAnd yet, the N\u00famen\u00f3rean would have it that the greatest triumph of the great Deceiver was making mankind think he did not exist. Sorry, Numancian, was it? Numantine.\u201d It chuckled. It was a sound that could curdle milk, and caused pain in my stomach, turning it inside out, a twisting pain in my gut. I held onto my pastrami, darn it. That was a good sandwich and I had already sacrificed my Dairy Queen to a dragon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAnd what are you? Ah yes, it\u2019s the dragon slayer, is it?\u201d I hadn\u2019t said anything, but I looked back at its eyes. Now there was something. Peredur\u2019s eyes showed the slow burning of his internal (I would have said infernal, but it no longer seemed appropriate) engine. This creature, its eyes were a pit, and inside the nothing was hunger, and despair, and a craving so sharp I could almost feel the sides of my mouth bleed as if its needs were a knife.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I lurched, and realised I was alone. My friends had abandoned me. Not my friends, my\u2026 what did I really have that bound us together? Shared circumstance was no friendship. Even Ed just put up with me because we\u2019d known each other so long. What was it called? Sunk cost fallacy? Ed was just being nice. He and Zack were just pitying me. His mom fed me out of obligation. And Eve? She would have been happy being an only child. Who was I, even?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I keyed in to what he said. Dragon slayer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t kill her,\u201d I said. \u201cHurt, yeah. She ate my\u2026 she ate someone I was fond of.\u201d Doloise. I didn\u2019t want the name in his mouth. \u201cI closed off some of her power. In time, she\u2019ll grow it again, and open things up, and be the nasty scourge of the Western world she might want to be. I didn\u2019t kill her. I am not a dragon slayer. Whoever says that is wrong. You\u2019ve got bad information, Vasil, probably from enemies who want to make me a player on the stage. I might occasionally help move a prop, but most of the time I\u2019m happy being in the audience.\u201d I was rambling, but that made me feel a little better.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOh, but do you know what Peredur did after you left? The Great Peredur, Dragon amongst Dragons, but you\u2019ve felt the weight of his will. Do you think leaving a crippled Dragon on the field meant no one took the bait? You practically fed her to him, a present to increase his power. No wonder they\u2019re fond of you. The witch that left you \u2013 what was her name? You were becoming immune to her power. That\u2019s when they leave you, you know. As soon as you get strong. As soon as you pretend to have a spine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Was it true? I didn\u2019t care about the witches. I mean, I cared for the witches just fine, since it seemed like every woman I was interested was one, but I wasn\u2019t going to let some\u2026 demon, yes, that\u2019s what he was\u2026 not human. Inhuman. Inhumane. I wasn\u2019t going to let it try to diagnose my relationships. But the thing about Peredur and Naul? Could I have done that? Who took on the moral toll of death in that case? Just bad luck? Nature? Was I just justifying the situation?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAnd the one time you did have a spine, the one time you took what you needed, you assaulted someone. Sexual assault, you know. Akin to rape. Is that how you think of yourself? Is that what you are? Is it what you really want? Do you even remember who it was? Someone\u2019s little sister.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I knew. I didn\u2019t want to, and I felt horrible about it. Both pieces \u2014 that I tried to push it from my mind, and that I had done it. I had. I knew it was wrong. Did Misko know? Did she judge me? Was she slowly plotting my demise, the way wizards were slow and terrible to anger? Wizards summoned demons. It was a thing in fiction, so why not in reality? Maybe this was some kind of set-up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOh, yes, little sisters.\u201d I was on my knees, and I hadn\u2019t realised I had fallen. \u201cYou do know the hakawati, the so-called Spriggan, the younger one is in love with you. You ignore her, and are cruel to her, because you have that one silly rule, one that denies that love is a decent bridge between peoples. Really, leaving dragons to be eaten, girls to be abused\u2026 I ask again. What are you? And,\u201d he stared down, directly into my eyes. \u201cWhat gives you the right to judge me?\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
He looked like just a guy. Shouldn’t a demon look more… demonic?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1001002,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[24],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1803","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-chapter-11-opener"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3-2-1-boom.com\/doctor-e\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1803","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3-2-1-boom.com\/doctor-e\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3-2-1-boom.com\/doctor-e\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3-2-1-boom.com\/doctor-e\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1001002"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3-2-1-boom.com\/doctor-e\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1803"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.3-2-1-boom.com\/doctor-e\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1803\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1805,"href":"https:\/\/www.3-2-1-boom.com\/doctor-e\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1803\/revisions\/1805"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3-2-1-boom.com\/doctor-e\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1803"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3-2-1-boom.com\/doctor-e\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1803"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3-2-1-boom.com\/doctor-e\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1803"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}