Shedding the Demon (3 page)

“I like that name, Demon, it's different to be sure, but I
like it anyway.” She was becoming breathless due to the combination of the fast
pace and her talking.

“Look!” Damon stopped and turned to face her, pointing his
finger in her face. “I'm trying to figure out how to keep you alive, and I
can't concentrate with you babbling on!” He still had no idea what to do, but
one thing he did know was that he couldn't kill her; not like that.

Her eyes were wide again. “I just want to know your name.”

He sighed, “My friends do call me Demon. My name's actually
Damon.”
But only Andrea ever calls me Damon.

“What would you like me to call you?”

Her pale blue eyes were pretty, he realized, and they were
absolutely huge on her small face and body. With her pale white skin they gave
the impression that the color had been washed out of her. She was definitely
older than the fourteen or fifteen that he first guessed. Her size gave that
impression, but now that he looked closely, she could be mid-twenties. She used
her eyes to try and influence him, which was getting annoying.

“You can call me Demon,” he said sharply. He tore his gaze
from her eyes and spun on his heel to resume a fast pace away from her. Now his
head hurt to match the rest of his body.

 

 

Damon’s stomach knotted as they
approached the entrance to 4C.

“Stay right behind me, close. Don't make eye contact and
don't speak!”

“Ok, Demon,” she complied, using her wide eyes again.

Damon was still annoyed with her, and he was afraid of the
ramifications of what he'd done. Through the last ten minutes of their trip he
convinced himself that he could explain it to Andrea.
She wouldn't really
expect me to kill her,
he told himself,
would she?

They approached the entrance in the clear so the guard could
see them easily.

“Hey, Demon! You made it back, eh?” a voice called from the
shadows to the left.

Damon immediately relaxed as he recognized one his friends. “Yaz—if
I'd known you were here I would have gone around!”

Sarcastic laughter drifted out of the darkness and a figure
slowly appeared as Yaz stepped forward. He pulled up short as he caught sight
of Melanie.

“Whoa, that's risky, sneaking her in. Should've taken her to
a nice room in the City,” and then to Melanie, “Hey, cutie, if you're lookin'
for a real man—”

“You'll let me know if you see one,
sweetie
?” Melanie
interrupted as she blew Yaz a kiss. She fell into character without hesitation.
Damon could only look at her with his mouth open, his own response preempted.
She saw the look on his face and laughed. The sound lifted Damon's spirits even
as he fought against the urge to like her.

“Hey,” Yaz continued unflustered, “what's Andrea gonna say?”

Damon stopped involuntarily, the humor of the previous
moment drained from the air. Without looking back, he said “What
exactly
do you mean by that?”

“Nothin' –just kidding,” he took a couple of small steps
back away from Damon as he replied.

“Huh. Well make sure she hears it from me, and only me, do
you understand?”

“Yeah, I got it. Sorry.”

Damon started walking again and Melanie came up beside him
and hooked her arm around his. He wanted to pull away but decided this charade
was probably best.

They made it to his room without further incident and Damon
sat down heavily on the bed. Since he was promoted to Patrol he no longer had roommates.
Melanie stopped in the doorway and looked around the room wide-eyed.

“Really? You live here?”

“Yeah, this is it,” he said as he began to carefully strip
off his shirt.

“You’ve got lights, and—and water!” she exclaimed as she
peered into the bathroom.

“Most of our rooms do,” he winced as he tried to draw the
shirt over his head.

She reached out to help him, “It looks like you live here
alone. No roommate? Or
girlfriend
?”

“Stop it!” Damon said loudly. “I saved you from a bad
situation, but I never
asked
you to follow me home like some homeless
puppy! And I want nothing from you. NOTHING!”

Melanie drew her hands back quickly, and did not reply.

Damon continued more softly, “Take a shower—a hot shower—it'll
make you feel better.”

Her eyes widened again, but this time it appeared genuine,
not part of an act. “Are you serious? You have
hot
water?”

“Yes, we do. This is why 4C is so special to us,” Damon caught
himself, and decided not to say any more. “There are towels hanging in there,”
he said as he gestured toward the shower.

Melanie hurried into the bathroom, looked thoughtful for a
moment, and then closed the door. Damon was not watching her anyway, as he was
already pulling out MedPacs per Andrea's instructions.

Applying the MedPacs and setting them properly took more
than half an hour, but Melanie was still in the shower when he finished. He
already felt better and the rudimentary tests run by the 'Pacs didn't find any
major injuries. The shoulder wound showed a high risk of infection, but he
would be going to the Infirmary soon.

He laid back on the bed carefully so as not to disturb the
'Pacs, and finally faced the thought he had been avoiding.
What am I going
to tell Andrea? I can give up on ever patrolling again, and I'll probably have
to move back into the barracks -ugh!
His thoughts raced but he couldn't
come up with a good answer. He wasn't worried about any of the possible
punishments, he was worried about disappointing Andrea.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.
His heart leapt into motion and his breathing became shallow—it was Andrea. He
knew by her knock.

He answered the door, and she stepped in. “How are
. . .” She stopped suddenly when she heard the shower running. “Oh,
you have someone here—sorry,” and she turned quickly, nearly tripping over own
feet.

“No wait,” Damon grabbed her arm gently. “It's not what you
think.” In the back of his mind he thought maybe, just maybe, he should have
let her leave and not told her the truth.

She turned slowly back around. “What is it then?” she asked,
cocking an eyebrow.

Damon sighed, unsure how to answer the question. The shower
stopped and he realized this was not going to end well. “I have a problem, and
I need your help,” he blurted.

“What . . .” she started and then, as suspicion grew
in her, she asked, “who is it?” She moved past Damon to stand in front of the
bathroom door.

Melanie opened the door, wrapped in a towel. She saw Andrea,
yelped in surprise and stumbled back a few steps.

Andrea's eyes narrowed as she turned her head slowly to look
at Damon. He met her gaze briefly and then looked down.

“What . . . the
waif? Really?
” Andrea
stammered. “You're dead,” she said to Damon. “I've got to tell Michael about
the whole thing now.” After a short pause she added, “Oh yeah, and then I have to
explain to him why I
lied in the first place
!”

Damon couldn't look her in the eyes. “I'm sorry, Andrea, she
followed me.” He glanced up, but couldn't hold her gaze. “What was I supposed
to do? She already found the path so even if I took her back, she'd find it
again, and—”

“Enough!” Andrea hissed through clenched teeth. “I am
absolutely livid that you neglected your training to such an extent. And
ignored
what I told you to do.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

“I won't be any tr—” Melanie started.

“You!” Andrea jabbed a finger toward her, “do not get to
speak.”

“Andrea,” Damon said as he stepped toward her.

She held up her hand to stop him. After a few moments of
silence, she said, “I don't know what to do with you. With either of you. I have
to go see Michael.”

She pushed her way between Damon and Melanie as she rushed
to the door. Before leaving, she stabbed them both with a harsh glare. “Damon, I'm
very disappointed in you, I can’t believe you could let me down like this.”

If he didn't know better, Damon would have thought he saw
tears in her eyes. Before he could be sure, she turned away and rushed out the
door, slamming it behind her.

Silence followed her departure until Melanie said, “Well,
that could have gone better.”

“Shut up!”

Damon decided to follow Andrea. “Stay here and don't leave
this room,” he said to Melanie as he left.

“Exactly what I intended to do,” she said to the closing
door.

 

 

Damon arrived at the door to
Michael's office too late to see Andrea go in. Leaning casually against the
wall next to the door was a man that Damon knew only by name.

“Jeremy, is Andrea in there with Michael?”

“Yup, she sure is. Said you'd be showin' up 'ere soon, too.
Asked me to 'ave you wait.” He pointed to a folding chair against the wall.

Damon sat down heavily in the chair, trying to figure out
exactly how things went so bad.
I should have killed her. I've killed before
and it didn't bother me, I've killed to defend and protect the Family, and I'll
do it again. What's different this time?

His thoughts roiled around the same subject over and over.
He couldn't find an answer and he couldn't stop thinking about it.

“Demon!”

Damon looked up as he realized Jeremy had been saying his
name repeatedly.

“Wake up, man, Michael and Andrea want to see you now.”

Damon felt sweat beading up on his forehead. “Thanks,” he
mumbled as he steeled himself to face the anger.

The room beyond the door was well-lit and Damon was a little
surprised at the number of electric lights in use. Michael sat in an
overstuffed chair, leaning forward with his hands clasped together, resting
elbows on his knees. Andrea was on a couch next to him and her glare made Damon
flinch. He felt off-balance, like the floor was unstable, as he walked to the
middle of the room, and stood stiffly before them.

The man was older, with graying hair. He still had a lean
fighter's build, and numerous scars crisscrossed his forearms. His face was
lined and worn, but was shaped with sharp, angular features. Penetrating blue
eyes bore into Damon where he stood.

“Demon, my Demon, what are we going to do with you?” Michael
said.

Damon's eyes darted over to Andrea quickly and then back to
Michael, unsure if he was supposed to answer somehow. Before he could open his
mouth, however, Michael continued.

“Andrea tells me that her previous account of your patrol
may have been,” he paused and glanced at Andrea, “not entirely—shall we say—
complete.
”

Damon felt a surge of hope, since Michael sounded very calm.

“Andrea has filled me in on all the details, and I'll honest
with you, I am disappointed. Even though I understand that you found it
difficult to kill the girl, you need to grasp the gravity of the situation, and
the importance in protecting the Family.”

The implication that Damon disregarded Family interests truly
hurt, and he wanted to speak in his defense. However, Michael did not tolerate interruption
and Damon knew that it would not help his situation to press the matter.

“You know the importance of keeping the perimeter safe, and
I know that you understand, because you learned it from Andrea.” He paused, looking
thoughtful for a moment before continuing, “Allow me to recap my understanding
of what happened this evening. If I get something wrong, you can tell me after
I finish.

“Mistake #1, the big one: you rescued the girl.” He ticked
off the first point on his finger. “Then Mistake #2: the girl followed you
somehow; and it’s quite worrisome that she could do that.” He ticked off a
second finger. “Finally Mistake #3: you couldn't kill her,” he ticked off a third,
“and then you decided it would be safer to bring her in than leave her out
there with potentially dangerous information.

“Ironically, this last thing was the actually the correct
action at that point in time.
Although
if you had avoided
just one
of the three mistakes we would not be in this situation right now. Do you agree
with this assessment, my Demon?”

“Yes, sir, I do,” Damon felt relief pouring over him even if
he didn't understand why he was getting a reprieve.

“Good. Then here is what needs to be done. First, you are
removed from solo patrol, obviously. It may be a long time before you see that
role again. Second, YOU must decide what to do with the girl. There are two
choices and you may pick one. First,” he held up one finger, “you may kill her
now and be done with it. Second,” he held up a second finger, “she stays with
you, in your room, and shares your resources. In other words, she literally
eats off your plate. You will get no extra supplies or rations, and you must
share everything with her. The Family simply cannot afford to take on another
mouth to feed at this time. Also, she must work a full duty schedule, most
likely in jobs that are less-than-desirable.” Michael finished, looked over at Andrea
for a moment, then back at Damon. “Which will it be, son?”

Damon paused only long enough to make sure it really was his
turn to speak. He already knew he couldn’t kill her in cold blood, “I'll take
the second. You’ll never even know she's here.”

Andrea made an almost imperceptible huffing sound through
her nose, but it struck Damon through the heart.

“You may go now,” Michael said, “Andrea and I have more to
discuss.”