While the human went off to bed, Artem stood before the window, looking out at the park. The warnings from Cyril were still wicked fresh in his mind. Artem glanced down the short hall that led to Drew’s bedroom. While he slept he was more vulnerable to the influence of the darkness, how easy it would be for Artem to sneak into Drew’s room and whisper deviant half-truths in his ear until he woke wishing to part with his soul for something more promising.
But Artem turned away, focusing instead on the Christmas tree in the corner. It was odd to see, one of the things that baffled him endlessly, this human need to celebrate in a fashion made popular by the druids, especially when it was now traditionally believed that anything pagan was tainted, dirty.
Humans, he suspected he might never understand them.
Crossing the room, Artem marveled at the multicolored lights and the way they bathed the artificial pine needles in soft light. Bauble glitters under their touch, ornaments they were called. He saw snowmen and polar bears, penguins and snowflakes. Some of them he touched gingerly, wanting a better look, but it was the delicate feathery wings of an angel that prompted him to move away. He wandered around the living space of Drew’s apartment, taking in all the little trinkets and doodads that represented a mortal’s life. From pictures of people he considered important to more Christmas decorations.
Finally, however, as the horizon began to grow lighter and the sun woke from its slumber to greet the twenty-fourth day of December, Artem settled on the sofa. Demons didn’t exactly sleep the way humans did, but they still required a short period of downtime in which to recharge their powers. Artem knew his were failing, he could feel them slipping away, and after such a trying few hours he suspected some distance from his situation might prove useful.
So he drew up his legs, closed his eyes, and shut down.
* * * *
A rich aroma tickled his nose and tugged him from the depths of his rest. Eyebrow quirked, he heard Drew whistling joyously in the small kitchen near the entrance. Something smelled delicious, beckoning Artem from the couch. He wandered to the kitchen where he spied Drew standing before the stove, cooking meat.
Drew offered a slight smile. “Good morning. Happy Christmas Eve.”
Artem blanched.
“Sorry,” apologized Drew. “I suspect it’s not a favorite holiday in your…country.”
“You could say that, yes. What are you doing?”
“Making breakfast,” Drew replied. The contents of the pan wound up on a plate. He turned the oven off. “Do you eat?” color crept across his cheeks, turning them a pleasant shade of red. “I feel awkward asking these questions, I hope you don’t mind, though.”
Artem shook his head. “How else will you know? And food is not something I require for sustenance, but it does smell good and sometimes we indulge in order to pass ourselves off as mortal.”
“In that case.” Drew got to work putting scrambled eggs, strips of bacon, and toast on two plates. Then he proceeded to pour a dark chocolaty beverage into two mugs. He offered one of each to Artem.
“I hope you’ll join me for breakfast.” He headed for the small table and two chairs in the corner. “It’s not much but I enjoy cooking, especially for others. When I was younger,” Drew said, settling down, “I used to dream about becoming a chef and opening my own restaurant. I figured I would go to culinary school and write cookbooks and have a TV show.”
Artem sat across from him, picking up a fork and moving the eggs around. The food smelled wonderful. He took a bite, savoring the taste of them. “And you are something other than this?”
Drew shrugged. “I work in an office. It pays the bills, keeps food in the cabinets, a roof over my head, that sort of thing. It definitely isn’t what I dreamed my life would be.”
Artem chewed, refusing to let the nagging voice in his mind gain further foothold. Yes, it was there, plain as any day, the means with which he could get leverage on Drew’s soul. He could, for that hefty price, turn Drew’s world around and make his dreams come true. And as he bit into a piece of bacon Artem realized that that was exactly what he wanted to do.
Without the awful string attached.
He sagged back against the chair. Failure, the word slipped across his mind. Tomorrow was the big day, time was running out, and here sitting before him was exactly what he needed to prove he was a demon through and through. If he returned to the place below with a soul as pure as Drew’s, he would be cheered, those smirks wiped from their toothy grins, no more sniggering behind his back. But…
“Are you okay?”
Artem blinked, chasing the allusion, or was it more a delusion, away. Drew stared at him, head slightly tilted. “Hm?” He reached for the mug. “Oh yes, I’m okay. I think.”
“Please forgive me,” said Drew, gesturing at the mug with his fork. “Most people drink coffee in the morning to go with breakfast. I never developed a taste for it and this time of year I like to have hot chocolate. I know it’s a little strange…”
“Hot chocolate?” This beverage was new to Artem so he chose to sip it, then took a big gulp when he tasted the rich flavor rolling over his tongue. “It’s wonderful. Can I have more?”
Drew chuckled and something in Artem’s chest fluttered. The out of place sensation caused him to sit up straight, a hand going to his chest. He knew humans and other truly living beings possessed hearts, one of the main sources of their life force, but he was a demon with no purpose for such a thing. Even now he could hear the rhythmic beat of Drew’s heart like a sweet lullaby.
“Artem?”
“Yes?” Why did he keep spacing out?
“I was wondering if you might care to join me today for a little…” Drew cleared his throat. “Christmas merrymaking.”
“Merrymaking…This word is foreign to me.” When Drew smiled he experienced that odd fluttering feel again.
“This is usually my favorite time of year. I love the magic of Christmas. This year, however, I must admit I’ve let a few small unfortunate mishaps bring me down and ruin my holiday spirit. Tomorrow is the big day and I’d like to find the joy I seem to have misplaced.”
Now Artem understood why the glow emanating from Drew was faint. He also found he was curious about two things, how one lost their joy and what exactly merrymaking entailed. There was, however, something else on his mind. “May we check on the dog?”
Drew’s eyebrows rose. “Of course. We can make that the first stop of the day. So you’ll join me?”
“Yes, I think I will.”