Mortal Wounds

Chapter Five

Davian's POV

Morgana Avery (2:46 pm):

'Hey, Davian, I don't think we should see each other anymore... Last night was a close call and I don't think we should risk it. I'm so sorry. We can still be friends though.'

I anticipated our secret relationship would go up in flames. I pocket the phone, singing along to the song Somebody I Used To Know, receiving weird looks from people down the street.

The time 3:02 pm shows on BBB's digital banner. The demon is two minutes late. Unbelievable. At this rate, Virgil's dad will realise his kid is being possessed. I'm not keen for the town to go from Pleasantville to the Conjuring. I don't do well with creepy things. I still remember the nightmares at five when after my brother put Teletubbies on the television. Never again.

I pace around St Valentine's hospital. Seven years have passed since my father was admitted here. When I was young, he was a social butterfly with a contagious laugh. Mates often came to the house to c***k a bottle of beer and watched sports. When I was young, sitting on his knee, laughing at jokes I did not understand, I thought he would be there for me forever. Now I don't trust the put-together image he hung up. Kellin told me our father screamed at and threatened mental health workers when they detained him.

Working with death is not easy. The powerlessness which comes from witnessing death pushes even the sanest Reapers to madness. My father was no exception. I stare at my reflection in its window. I pull at my cheek, frowning at the sight. As I grow older I look more like my old man and it chills me to the core. I blink when I notice some old woman death staring me through the window. I clear my throat and wave at her. She sticks her nose up at me and blocks the sight of me with her newspaper. I turn to pace the street again only to give a manly scream when I see Virgil standing behind me, sweater covered in blood.

"What the f**k happened?!" I snap at him, "Where did this blood come from?"

I swear if that demon has killed someone I'm going to find a way to drag its a*s back to Hell. He seems dazed for a moment before he clears his throat.

"Got into a bar fight with my insecurities. Got myself in the nose and now I'm depressed because I got blood on these lovely shoes."

"I swear if you killed anyone—"

"Define 'anyone.'"

I grit my teeth and give him a hard stare. His eyes appear a little red and his skin is paler than when I last saw him. I get the feeling if I ask about it, he will deflect with some comment that will make me tear my hair out. I shake off my jacket and force him to wear it. He casts me a glare as if he feels thoroughly violated.

"You shouldn't be doing crap like that. Virgil's body fainted only yesterday. Is it feeling weird now? Does it hurt anywhere?"

"My stomach feels a little strange," it growls just as he says that.

He's starving and he doesn't even know it. Oh god, the demon is going to end up unintentionally killing Virgil at this rate. I grab its arm and pull him to a random Mexican restaurant. We take the window seat and I observe him scoffing down two burritos, three tacos, large fries and a plate of nachos. Not much compared to me but still, Virgil is going to lose his thigh gap before he gets back. After a while, he seems sated, absentmindedly staring at the window as he sips his lemonade.

"Are you doing to explain what happened?"

He shrugs and I scowl. I've only known him for about a day, but I know that he takes every opportunity to make a snarky comment. Now he is barely acknowledging my existence.

"You've looked depressed since I met you. Hell, even now you look like you've been crying. What's up with that?"

No response.

"Ok, why are you here?"

I can't seem to wrap my head around this expression he wears. Something is eating at him. I don't know what I expected when I met a demon. My brother assured me they were s******c, and drenched in darkness. I didn't think they could look like me when I am done with the world.

"What about your name?" I ask.

He glances at me before laughing under his breath.

"It doesn't matter. That person I was born as died years ago."

Ok, the edgy meter went from a zero to a ten real fast. I wait to see if there is a clever quip he was planning or a punchline to that. He continues to stare out the window, sipping his drink without a care in the world. He tilts his head.

"Is it me or is that human is watching us?"

I follow his stare. I rapidly conceal the side of my face with a menu to hide from the blond, rich guy watching us through the window. Oh god, what is that brat doing here? The demon arches his brow.

"Uh oh, he looks pretty pissed. Is he an ex-boyfriend?"

"He's not an ex. He's just crazy," I growl past grit teeth, "He's the youngest in the family that runs GoldVine. His brother runs the estate and the affairs. Leave the talking to me."

"So many blondes," he tsks, "I'm going to have to refer to him as your ex."

"We never dated!"

A few seconds later, the such place's door swings open and I hear demanding footsteps coming towards us.

"I know you want friends but to blackmail people to hang out with you," he scowls with a posh accent, "Stop holding that menu up. I can see you."

"If I can't see you, pretend not to see me—" he snatches the menu out of my hand.

One of the richest guys from school drags the temperature down in the Mexican restaurant. The pompous backstabbing rumour maker takes the form of Beau Evanderous. The guy is boyish yet proper in dimensions and stature. Delicate blonde hairs are gelled back from his pale face. He inspects us with an upturned nose. I open my mouth to come up with a defence when the demon beats me to it.

"I'm rebelling against my father. He didn't want me to come to this town so I came here. I saw Davian in that arcade store, so I decided to hang out with him too because father also didn't want me near him. Two birds. One stone. Reverse psychology for the win."

Beau looks at him with a confused scowl.

"They gave him pain meds and I'm making sure he doesn't hurt himself," I interject.

"Ahh, perhaps they gave him morphine. We were going to give you chocolates at school today. I really think you should be home resting," he advises with fake concern.

The only reason why Beau pretends to give a s**t about Virgil is because he's popular. No doubt, Beau will blab about seeing Virgil here and get him isolated from society. Beau turns to me with a slight disgust.

"It still doesn't give you any reason to take advantage of him. He's an upstanding member of society," he chides me, before gesturing Virgil to get up, "If you wish to explore this town I do not mind helping you. I'd rather you explore the town safely with me than be with—" he glances at me, trying to come up with an adjective, "—Someone with questionable social skills."

The demon sips his lemonade, raising both brows at me as if asking, "Are you going to take that?"

"Why are you here?"

He gives me a painfully fake smile.

"My brother wanted me to personally hand over business documents to BBB news." Beau puffs his chest out in pride.

It's difficult to imagine Beau is the next heir to this town's throne. Well, that's what I like to call it. This place was run by the Church in the medieval ages, and the Evanderous were at the head of it. From his father, Cassiel Evanderous inherited full control over this town's commercial life and trading affairs. If Cassiel died, Beau inherits all that power. Naturally, Beau was raised to believe the world owes him.

"Why are you so proud of being your brother's postman?" the demon asks in pure confusion.

Beau's eyes narrow before he taps his lips.

"What are you doing here? Visiting your father in the psych ward? How many years has he been in there now? I guess that mental break down fried his brain pretty bad, huh?"

I want to strangle him but before I can, the demon cuts in.

"I've always been interested in the concept of Free-Will versus Determinism. Hardcore determinists believe that humans don't have free will and that we are products of external influences. Looking at you, I'm starting to believe it."

I shoot him a puzzled look. Beau blinks a few times, appearing completely off guard.

"What are you talking about?"

"Out of curiosity, how much do you let your brother or the morals you were taught control your life?"

"Excuse you—"

"Tell me at least one thing you've done which made you happy your brother would disprove of."

Beau juts his finger out at him, opening his mouth and shutting it, then opening it again without words. His face goes through the five stages of grief. At the end, he sits down next to Virgil's body with his head in his hands.

"I have done nothing for myself," he admits, "Do I even have free-will?"

I stare at the demon, befuddled. He just dragged Beau into an existential crisis.

"You're going to grow into the spitting image of your father. I bet you're still a virgin, aren't you? How old are you again?" the demon drawls, not seeming too concerned about Beau's impending mental breakdown.

Beau's face flushes.

"Ok, now this is harassment," I step in only for Beau to ignore me.

"Twenty-years-old," he answers.

The demon blinks rapidly a few times.

"Why repress yourself?"

"Because?"

The demon rests his cheek on his knuckle as he watches Beau's face. I shoot him a questioning glare that he swiftly ignores.

"You should do something your brother wouldn't approve of," he tempts.

"Like what?"

"Like finding a bar and getting either wasted or high, or both, maybe find someone to sleep with."

Beau's jaw drops.

"How would we go about this?" Beau asks to my surprise.

"Hey, hey. Timeout," I cut in before Beau falls for his deception, "Your reputations—"

"None of us would dream of telling anyone. With this everyone has leverage on each other, thus we're bound to an agreement of silence. Otherwise, we'll all face social exclusion."

Is the demon doing this so he can keep Beau quiet about seeing us here?

"Except Davian is already excluded. What leverage would we have on him?" Beau points out, squinting suspiciously at me. For the love of God, I hate this guy.

"I doubt he wants his psychiatrist accusing him of corrupting other students," the demon suggests, standing up, "Pay for the drinks and I'll show you a good time."

I stand up urgently when Beau follows him like a curious puppy.

"Whoa, hold up," I shout, rushing up to them, "Beau, don't listen to him, he's high on pain meds. Virgil, your father would expect that you'd be home."

"I know some upstanding clubs," Beau suggests, ignoring my existence.

"Sounds too rigid and formal," the demon dismisses.

"Neither of you should be going," I chide.

Gods, I sound like a father. These people are aging me.

"If you're so concerned, you should pick the place and keep an eye out," the demon suggests with a sly smile, "Or join us."

"Maybe I will," I snap, pissed off by his smugness only to realise what I agreed to.

Fuck.