Exhilarating was the word that came to mind when Artem put blade to ice and glided slowly across it. Had he known what Drew was thinking, he would have confirmed the man’s suspicions that being on ice, literally, was new to him. There was a touch of envy as he watched others move smoothly, fluidly, as easily as if they were walking down the street. He wanted to possess such grace and confidence. Instead, his ankles wobbled and Drew kept a firm grip on his arm. Their progress was slow and Drew saved him from falling a handful of times, but the first time around had Artem convinced.
Ice skating was definitely his new favorite part of winter. There was something quintessentially human about it.
“Are you having fun?” Drew asked.
“Tons.” Even though they moved at a snail’s pace compared to those around them.
The sun had passed the midday point and his deadline was coming up fast, but Artem didn’t care, feeling more at peace than he had in a very long time. And the feel of Drew’s hand in his, despite the fabric from the gloves preventing them from skin on skin contact, filled him with a new sense of warmth, one vastly different from the fires burning back home as well as at his core.
Artem liked it and wanted to explore what it meant.
He sucked in his bottom lip, his mind a swirling mess. He was, without a shadow of a doubt, a creature of Below, its where he was born and technically all the other demons made up his family. But they were cruel and reveled in it, finding pleasure in the pain of others, a trait he still had yet to develop all these decades later. Still…
“Artem, watch out!”
Drew’s warning snapped him free of his torment a touch too late. The blade of his skate hit a sizable chunk of missing ice and threw his balance. Even with Drew holding his hand, Artem cartwheeld his free arm in an attempt to stay upright. But much like everything else he’d attempted to get right lately, he failed, landing hard enough on his back to rattle his teeth. Artem’s head made solid contact with the frozen surface and in response he sent out a pulse of intense heat to shield himself, this being an automatic defense mechanism.
“Hey, mister, are you okay?” The face of a little girl of probably seven or eight, her aura blazing as a bright halo, popped into his line of sight. “You took a nasty fall.”
Artem blinked. There was the familiar taste of blood in his mouth; had he bitten his tongue?
“Artem?” Drew appeared above the girl.
“I’m okay,” he said, taking an offered hand to pull him up off the ice. In short order he stood face to face with Drew, tumbling into the man’s blue eyes, noting the clearly marked concern in them. How could it be? After what he did, the way Drew addressed him, he thought for sure he’d crossed a line, messed things up too bad for them to ever be fixed. Yet, here he stood, wishing Drew would hug him like last night and…What was that flutter in his chest?
“Artem?”
He licked his lips. “I’m…good.”
“I think we’ve had enough for one day. How about we head home? I want to call the vet and checkup on the dog.”
“Yeah,” Artem said, following blindly after Drew, letting himself be led off the ice. Things were growing more and more confusing as Artem struggled with the right thing to do. Looking at Drew’s back, Artem asked himself one question, could he drag this man into eternal pain and damnation? Artem’s stomach churned.
From behind them came a cracking, then a splash quickly followed by a scream. Drew practically smacked into Artem, he whirled around so fast. Turning to glance over his shoulder, Artem saw commotion in the general area of his fall, the weight in his stomach growing worse.
“What…”
“Someone help, please! She fell in!” yelled a frantic woman.
“Call the cops,” hollered a man.
“Oh my God,” Drew muttered. Artem flinched. “How could someone have fallen through the ice? The city always make sure it’s safe.”
The wave of emotion that walloped Artem was guilt, though it was unfamiliar and he didn’t have a name for this icky feeling. The burst of heat he expressed when he fell, it must have been enough to weaken the ice. From the torture chambers back home he knew humans weren’t capable of handling extreme cold, their bodies shutting down. Tears burned, a lump lodging in Artem’s throat.
He moved, tugging his hand free from Drew. A plan formulated as he charged across the slippery surface, more self-assured on his skates than he had been when putting them first on.
“Artem!” Drew beckoned.
Artem pushed through the gathered group of people. A woman was crying in the arms of another as two men hung over the jagged edges, fishing for the victim. There was, in his mind, only one thing to do.