Page 14 of Demon's Angel

That statement makes me feel no easier. The last old woman he had caring for him tried to drown him in a too-hot bath. I’m beyond frantic with worry.

“Calm down, woman. Violet, calm the fuck down. Answer my questions and maybe I’ll let you see him, okay?”

I’m still struggling, my brain seems to have switched off, settling on only one thing. Now all I want to do is get back to my baby. I realise I’ve been in some sort of fugue since I left him; now it hits me how wrong it was, and maybe, just maybe, there’s another way to sort this mess out. A way which means both Theo and I can be together. Trouble is, I have no idea how it could be achieved.

“Calm down. Breathe.”

I’m pulled back more tightly. I can feel movements of a chest behind mine. A ribcage that rises and falls rhythmically. Unconsciously I find my lungs beginning to work in time with his.

“You’re safe. I’ve got you. You’re safe. Theo’s in very good hands. Breathe, that’s it. Breathe. You’re safe, Violet. Safe.”

It’s his quiet, reassuring voice that breaks me. One minute I’m struggling to get loose, the next all the fight goes out of me. The last breath I’ve taken comes out on a sob, soon followed by another. Now he turns me, my arms go around him, my muscle memory seeming to remember the man who had comforted me when I was a kid, who’d held me at Nathan’s funeral, encouraging me to let all my grief out. He’s Demon no longer, but Dave, my brother’s best friend.

I cry for ages. All the tears I’d held back as I survived my ordeal, pregnancy and becoming a single mother, all the despair I’d kept inside as my mom grew worse, all the fear and escalating horror, all the months when I couldn’t allow myself to be weak. A hand is rubbing my back, a voice murmuring nothings into my ear. I’ve no idea how much time has passed before I’ve recovered enough to speak.

“He wants Theo,” I tell Demon. “He’ll stop at nothing to get him.”

“Here is not the place for this conversation,” Demon says gruffly as he lifts me up into his arms, carrying me bridal-style, as if I weigh nothing, to the door. He shows no signs of exertion as he carries me up the stairs. In the main room I look around eagerly, but there’s no sign of Theo, just a few men drinking or with their arms draped around women who might as well be naked for what little they’re wearing. A fog of cigarette smoke makes me worried for my son’s lungs, but Demon might be the only person who can help me.

It’s time I tell him the truth.

Up another stairway and I start to worry about his back, but it’s as if he’s carrying a feather, not a woman who could never be called skinny, and who’s still bearing weight gained through pregnancy. Down to the end of a corridor, and then to a room on the left. He puts my feet on the ground but still keeps one arm around me as he reaches into his vest for a key. When he finds it, he places it in the lock.

“Worried people might steal your stuff?” After my initial surprise that he keeps the door locked, I don’t wonder about it. The men here are criminals, after all.

“Nah, worried about Bitch making herself at home.”

Well, the thought that Demon has to fight the women off shouldn’t, and doesn’t, shock me. But the fleeting pain the thought brings is unexpected.

Then we’re inside. I have a second to appreciate the tidy, but very masculine, room, before Demon points me toward the bed. As I hover, unsure whether to stand or sit, he pulls up his desk chair, turning it around before he places his ass on the seat, his arms folded over the back.

“Vi. I reckon there’s a lot I don’t know. Supposition can be dangerous, so why don’t I let you get it all out? I won’t jump to judgement until you’ve finished.”

“You did earlier,” I tell him, as I perch on the edge of the bed, “and you’re assuming there’s judgement to be made.” I’ve already been in front of a jury who didn’t believe me. Why should Demon be different?

He actually looks chided, but then defends himself, “There’s wrong things done for the right reasons, and right things done for wrong. Can’t help but feel what you did isn’t right, but I’m comin’ to doubt you’ve got no feelin’s. Tell me straight. How d’you feel about the kid?”

That’s easy to answer. “I love him with all that I am. There’s nothing more important to me than Theo.”

He nods, slowly, as if re-evaluating everything he’s thought up to now. Then he lets out a long sigh. “Think this is going to be a long session. You want a drink?”

“A water? I’m, er,” I glance down, drawing his attention to my leaking boobs, so quickly look back up. “I’m still breastfeeding.”

“The kid going to be alright with bottled shit?”

“Theo,” I correct haughtily, “is going to be fine. He’s a greedy little bugger; I supplement him with formula every day.” I want to go to him, but Demon talking about bottles suggests at least he’s not going hungry. Mind you, if he was, I’d expect him to be brought to me. When he wants to be fed, his cries soon become deafening.

“Theo,” he repeats as though chastised. “Any particular reason you named him what you did?”

I shake my head as he stands, opens a mini-fridge and extracts two bottles. One of water, one of beer. “Not really. I liked the name. It means ‘God-given’; I suppose that’s what I think he is. Never expected him or…”wanted him, I complete in my head.

He reseats himself and nods as though he’s plucked the words out of my head. “Talk to me, Violet. How much of what you told me the other day was a lie?”

“None of it,” I reply, shocked. “It’s true, I lost my job. Dad died, I came back here. I had been planning to return to New York, but I couldn’t go straight back. I needed to find a new job first. Then, when I saw how Mom was, I knew I had no choice but to stay here instead. She went downhill fast when Dad had gone. She’d found him, you see, when he collapsed. I think the shock was the last straw.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Pre-senile dementia.” Such innocuous words for something which sucks the soul out of a person, leaving behind nothing but an empty shell.

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