His heart skipped a beat, his next breath catching in his throat and quickly forming into a lump that made him cough. Drew took a stumbling step back, shocked by the creature that now stood before him. His mind raced as he attempted to make sense of it all. Cracks began to form, spreading across his world view, or at least his understanding of it, the big picture changing with one revelation. If demons were real, and it was hard to deny that fact with one standing before him, what else lurked in the darkest shadows or within the hearts of those walking beside him every day?
Drew liked to think himself open minded, a firm believer in ghosts and the afterlife, but this, it shook him to the core.
And yet…
The initial fear he felt in seeing the fires burning in Artem’s eyes dwindled, subsiding with each passing second. He took in the sorry state of Artem, watching as feathers black as coal drifted to the snowy ground, and recalled the sorrow, the sheer anguish Artem displayed over the fate of the Lab. It was enough to ease his fears, to settle his racing pulse.
One of the feathers landed nearby and he bent to retrieve it. Touching it made everything more tangible, solidified that this wasn’t some twisted dream. It also subtly burned his fingers, kind of like touching a bowl of soup without giving it a chance to cool first.
“What? Aren’t you running away? Where is your fright?”
Drew suspected Artem wanted to inflict terror into his tone, but fell short, the last of his inquiry coming out as more of a plea. Drew considered the battered demon, knowing what he asked was valid, sensible, and Drew had asked himself the same things mere seconds ago. He twirled the feather in his fingers—it had cooled considerably, and as he watched, it began to slowly disintegrate.
“Should I? Is that what you want?”
Artem fluttered his wings, like autumn leaves, more feathers fell. “I am a creature from Below, of fire and brimstone, sin and evil.”
Before Artem finished, Drew was already shaking his head. “I don’t believe that, any of it.” The befuddlement of Artem’s expression did little to hide the demon’s disappointment, prompting Drew to speak in haste, the words popping out of his mouth before he realized he was thinking them. “Perhaps you were born in this place of sin and chances are there are hundreds just like you describe, things of evil. But I’ve seen the very light of your soul, Artem, and you are not darkness. You are not pestilence or death or any of those things.”
His words were meant to be hopeful, uplifting, but Artem cried out and fell to his knees, burying his face in his clawed hands. To see him distraught, it tugged at something inside of Drew and in a flash he was down on his knees before Artem, heat rushing off the other man, the snow around them all but melted away.
“Artem…”
Drew thought of the car ride to the clinic, the way Artem sat in the backseat cradling the Lab, silent tears coursing down his cheeks. The way he held the tip of the dog’s ear between his fingertips, rubbing it slowly, methodically, and in the rearview Drew recalled the utterly lost look in those dark eyes.
“Please look at me,” he said quietly.
Almost as though he were ashamed, Artem dropped his hands, keeping his gaze downcast. Drew reached out, hooking a finger under Artem’s chin and forcing his head up until their eyes met. For a brief moment he remembered what happened the first time their eyes locked, the odd sensation of falling and being burned, all of which now made sense. Sort of. This time, however, he was granted permission to gaze into eyes that shimmered like dying stars in a black hole. Mesmerizing, enchanting.
Without breaking hold, he used his other hand to trace the curve of Artem’s cracked horn, jagged lines rough to the touch. And he realized, quite starkly, how easy it had been for Artem to identify with the dog. His heart broke, the familiar sting of tears in his eyes. Artem was a stray, tossed aside when he no longer served a purpose, discarded by those who were supposed to love him, and for what?
Drew pulled Artem into his embrace, wrapping his arms around the faintly burning ember that was the demon. He closed his eyes, wishing how somehow this simple hug would be enough to heal the wounds and put back the scattered pieces, but erasing the damage was never that easy. After a moment of hesitation, Artem followed his example, wrapping his arms loosely around Drew. A second later he shook as a wave of fresh tears swept over and through him.
* * * *
A couple of minutes later, Drew pulled back, wiping away a tear with his thumb. He knew he should have been scared, repulsed, maybe even running for his life, but to see Artem so hopeless…“Will you come home with me? I think it’ll do you good to get some rest. We can figure things out tomorrow, if you like, of course.”
“Home…” the word tumbled out of Artem and threatened another round of tears.
“Yes,” Drew decided, standing, offering his hand out to Artem. “Come on, it’ll be okay. I promise.”
It seemed like Artem was going to refuse, a range of emotions passing over his face, then he tentatively placed his hand in Drew’s and climbed to his feet. Drew gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“There we go. Now it’ll be a bit of a walk, if you don’t mind, by then we can both get some sleep and start fresh in the morning.” They started off, Drew curious. “Do, um, demons sleep?”
“In a fashion, yes.”
“Okay.”
They walked along in silence, neither of them letting go. Drew managed to keep any unpleasant thoughts at bay, finding an odd sense of peace in the demon’s presence; which made him wonder what that said about his soul. And thinking of his own soul brought forth the question of whether or not demons possessed something similar, surely Artem did, otherwise why did he experience grief? Surely that was an emotion beyond the realm of demons, or at least it was according to every book and movie in existence.
When they reached the spot where Drew encountered Santa, he found it empty, the old man having finally packed it in foe the night. He noticed in passing, however, that the snow outside the building remained untouched, pristine until the morning masses turned it sickly gray. There was no trace of the Santa or the poles that held the kettle. Had it snowed enough between the time of their meeting and the end of the flurry to cover any tracks? Drew shook his head. Why worry?
They were a block away from his apartment when he could no longer fight the cold, the adrenaline sparked by the sight of the accident and the ensuing events finally wearing off. Drew began to shiver, his teeth chattering.
“You are cold?”
“Yes, I’ve been outside a tad too long and my clothes are damp, but we’re almost to my place.”
As he said it, Drew spotted the twinkling blue lights that adorned the trees outside his apartment complex. Two massive blue spruces stood to either side of the entryway and every holiday season the landlord wrapped them in strands of blue lights. Drew marveled at them from his living room, often times just letting their glow wash into his apartment, all of his own lights off, with the exception of his Christmas tree.
There was a subtle shift in the air around them and the next thing Drew knew, Artem wrapped Drew as best as he could with the shredded remains of a wing. Almost instantly Drew’s chill was banished.