Page 12 of The Monster of Darkspell Comics
“Ridiculous. This entire town has a large non-human population. It’s ultimately what made me decide to enjoy my vacation here. While you can find non-humans everywhere, you don’t typically see thriving communities of them living among handfuls of humans. It makes things a bit more convenient for less conventional species... like demons.”
She shifts closer, practically vibrating with excitement. “What else is there?”
I roll my eyes, but I’m privately pleased with the way her attention is raptly focused on me. I nod toward a pair of females gliding together. “Vampires.” I point to a gangly male speedingaround the rink. “Goblin. And that group over there, night elves of some kind. That brother-sister duo who are holding hands and spinning in circles—they are trolls from what I can tell. That larger, rowdy group, all werewolf pups,” I point out, my mouth curling reluctantly as they practically pile all over each other in their attempt to out-skate each other, though a few of the older ones are pulling the youngest of them along with them.
Her eyes flick excitedly from person to person. Suddenly her gaze fixes on a point on the other side of the rink for a long moment, her expression sobering and becoming withdrawn. I crane my head, trying to see what she does. There’s a bunch of milling humans. Among them there is a man wearing shades, watching the activity within the rink expressionlessly. That’s odd. My eyes narrow speculatively, but Fanny grabs my wrist and tugs until I look over at her and reluctantly stand. Almost immediately I feel the wheels trying to slip from beneath my feet, and I abruptly grab hold of her with both hands, my eyes growing wide.
I want more than anything to stretch my wings out to help my precarious lack of balance, but the roller rink is far too crowded, and the humans are bound to notice if my invisible wings randomly knock them over. Things are easier to disguise when their presence can be ignored, and people are unaware of it. The illusion won’t hold very well if they actually feel my wings slap them. Swallowing back the curses that immediately spring to mind, I shuffle forward, the wheels rolling hazardously beneath me as Fanny giggles and pulls me toward the rink.
“Don’t worry, we will stay on the outer edge until you pick it up,” she says encouragingly. “When you leave the rug onto the waxed floor, just push off with one foot.”
I feel a bit nauseated as we enter the rink, and I tighten my wings against my back, pinning my corethi even more firmly to prevent any accidents. The moment I step onto the rink andpush off the carpet, however, my foot shoots out from beneath me, taking me out and bringing Fanny down with me. My ass hits the ground hard, and I topple backwards as Fanny slams into me. Pain shoots up my tail, and I’m pretty sure that I’ve put a kink in it, and I can’t breathe right since the female’s weight falls on my chest and diaphragm. I drag in a deep breath and feel every part of her body pressed against mine as I stare into her brown eyes. And suddenly I can’t breathe for an entirely different reason as something dark and unfamiliar uncurls deep within me.
Fanny’s eyes widen and she giggles as she awkwardly slides off me. “Okay, sometimes that happens. Let’s try again. This time, try to imagine your weight centered between the four wheels.”
I nod absently as I ungainly push myself back to my feet. The moment I’m up, I grip the sidewall of the rink with my free hand like a lifeline. I’m holding onto it hard enough that I’m surprised that my claws don’t puncture the wood, and it’s partially because I’m doing my damnedest to make sure that I don’t accidentally injure Fanny’s soft and fragile human hand. All the same, I wobble like a newborn calf as I slowly push forward in tiny increments, one foot at a time, while the music blasts from above us and children bypass us in waves. It’s a bit humiliating as well as deafening, but bit by bit my balance is improving, and my speed is picking up. I finally rouse the courage to let go of the wall and skate only a short distance before I come down again. This time, however, I make sure to release Fanny’s hand so that I don’t bring her down with me again. Still, I lie there on the rink gasping for breath as I wonder if it is possible for demons to die from shame.
My human stops in front of me and leans over me as she grins down at my prone form. She offers me her hand, which is absurd because she hardly has the strength to lift a grownnightmare demon, but I take it anyway, enjoying the warmth of it as I push myself back to my feet. Re-establishing my balance, I push forward with her as we glide hand in hand. I’m still horribly wobbly and fall several more times, but there is enough progress that keeps me pushing on until Fanny calls a halt to it with a bright peal of laughter.
“Okay, enough,” she giggles, though I don’t miss the way she glances back across the rink. Something is clearly disturbing her.
I peer over at the crowd clustered around the arcade games near the rink again and frown. “What are you looking at?”
She shakes her head and laughs dismissively, though it sounds hollow to my ears with no real mirth behind it. “It’s nothing. Let’s go grab some slices and park ourselves somewhere before you end up bruised from top to bottom.”
“Demons never bruise,” I mutter resentfully, but something flutters warm within me as she takes my hand again and leads me out of the rink.
I have to admit that food sounds pretty damned good right now. Even if it is cheap pizza and stale beer. And while I can’t drink the warm piss that humans call beer, I do manage to swallow down several slices of pizza one after another. It tastes like cardboard, but Fanny’s pure enjoyment of the place is infectious. I even allow her to drag me over to the arcade where I dutifully hand over quarters while she repeatedly destroys herself on a game called Ms. Pacman. I normally don’t have any patience for human merriment, preferring to feast upon their screams of terror, but from Fanny... it’s not so bad.
Chapter 11
Fanny
My hands are shoved into my back pockets, and I rock patiently back and forth on my sneakers, my Walkman blaring Judas Priest in my ears over the popular tunes chosen to be played through the mall’s speakers. I bounce to the rhythm of the music as I patiently wait for my turn. It’s good that Pashar has been loosening the leash a bit more. After my first trip, fetching lunch has become one of my daily responsibilities, and I’m really enjoying the opportunity to stretch my legs.
And after having my eyes opened in a big way at the roller rink, I’m exploring the mall far more attentively and with far more enthusiasm as I walk through it to and from the shop. Although there are quite a few humans, I’m learning to pick out the non-humans present, and it’s a trip. Unfortunately, it looks like my spooks-watching won’t be happening much today. I seem to have hit my timing wrong because the line at the Good Char is longer than I expected. Finally, it’s my turn, and I step up to the counter and exchange a smile with the girl stationed there as I pull my headphones from my ears.
“Hi! Welcome to the Good Char. What can I get you?” she chirps with an amazing level of cheerfulness.
“Hey! Let me get—” I begin but my voice trails off as I’m distracted by an unsettling presence moving from the corner of my eye.
I turn to look at the source more fully and frown when I see the guy from the other day lower himself into the chair acrossthe way. His eyes are fastened on me, and the small hairs on the back of my neck prickle in response. He smiles and tips his head to me before opening his newspaper. He puts on a good show pretending to be absorbed in its contents, but I’m not fooled. The subtle shift of his head and the flick of his eyes are enough to tell me that he’s watching me. A chill creeps over me, and I start to back away from the counter, but the wiener-girl catches my wrist and looks over at me with concern.
“Are you okay? Is that guy bothering you? Maybe I should go get Dzik,” she rambles worriedly. “Dzik?” she calls over her shoulder.
The huge linebacker stationed behind the grill looks up and makes his way toward us as he wipes his hands on a rag. This must be Dzik. His dark eyes sweep over the crowd coldly before focusing on the girl in front of me.
“What’s going on?” he demands in growl that could rival anything that came from Pashar.
“The guy over there—with the newspaper,” she babbled, but I patted her hand, not wanting to distress her. And with the hope that she might loosen her death grip from around my wrist.
“It’s okay. No one’s bothering me. It’s just... have you seen that guy around here a lot?” I ask, tipping my head toward him.
Dzik squints at him for a moment but shakes his head as he slaps the rag over his shoulder. “Him? Nah. But I don’t pay much attention to the meat-sacks. You recognize him, Kimmy?”
I freeze at his turn of phrase, but when I peer over at him, he’s not even looking at me but scrutinizing the girl at his side.
Her eyebrows beetle, but she shakes her head. “I don’t know. I think maybe I’ve seen him walking through the mall a few times, but nothing that really stands out. Do you think he might be trouble?” she whispers as she looks anxiously toward Dzik.
