Mimi's Demons

Chapter 76: Poke'mon Stickers and Ageless Demons

Per usual, Duke avoided the basement where he stashed his reluctantly acquired demon. So when he finally went down there again just to make sure the creature hadn't upended the surgical room or put bows on all the fishhooks in the torture room, he found the spare room he'd lent the thing so it wouldn't hang out in the hallway like a bad horror movie had...changed.

"What is all this?" he asked.

The bed had been covered in a plush comforter and pillow he did not remember throwing down here. Posters with those 'Poke'mon' adorned the walls, clashing horribly with the grim cement walls. There was a bookcase loaded with what looked like manga, a TV with a colorful Switch, and various what he knew as 'office toys' for adults who'd never grown up out of children say on surfaces here and there.

The only things he had ordered down here himself was the computer and tablet. The bed and desk had already been here, and who knew about what had died on the mattress. Except, now that he was looking closer, the mattress had been replaced too.

In the middle of it all sat the startled demon, an open book of manga in hand and something garishly yellow and fuzzy peeking out over his elbow. He sat on a thick, blue shag rug.

It took Duke a few seconds of staring before it clicked and he groaned.

"Omen, this isn't interrogation..." Duke hadn't cared what Omen was doing with the demon as long as the demon stayed in the basement, so he hadn't asked for a report. Apparently the Sikh had taken full advantage of that.

Honrye wrapped a wing around himself, hiding whatever fuzzy thing he held. At the kid's carefully blank face, Duke felt his mouth twitch.

"I knew about the Switch, at least," he said, eyeing the bright Poke'mon stickers on said Switch. He'd agreed to it mainly because he had read about kids being more likely to confide in someone they didn't see and Honrye had become antsy down here in the basement with Mimi out of his sight. He didn't want a replay of the Halloween situation to occur, and since he couldn't chain the kid down to the floor he had to actually find a way to appease him.

"Are you going to take it away or not?" asked Honrye.

"You want me to."

At Honrye's stiffening, Duke snorted.

"I could care less what you do to this room, as long as you do your job and don't cause me any trouble. How'd you get Omen to buy you all this?"

"I didn't," said the kid churlishly. "He just appeared with it all. And that maid, the one Mimi likes, she brought the posters and bedding."

"Well, you do look the part of a child." Which made Duke wonder. "Just how old are you?"

"A spirit's age is relative."

"Then in relation to me."

Honrye took a moment to consider him.

"You're the elder," he said. "Spiritually, you were brought from the intelligences before me. Most of the people on Earth now are my elders in that regards, even Mimi. But starting anew with birth makes that irrelevant, though I've been finding with having a growing body my memories have...dimmed. If there's a day it ever becomes a true mortal body I don't know how many, if any, of my memories will remain."

Duke didn't know where to start opening that box. Then decided he didn't care enough. It was a tangent for another day, probably over text when he needed an excuse to insult a speaker at a meeting.

"Take advantage of my people and I'll hang you on fishhooks again."

Honrye's carefully blank face wrinkled. "I had no such intention."

"Then we're good. Feel up to having a roommate?"

Honrye scowled. "You are not putting that Garcia kid down here."

"I might, if he misbehaves. I already have so much parenting in me for Mirianna, and I actually like her."

"He's twelve!"

"And you're, what, thirteen? Relatively speaking."

"I don't know, does it matter?"

"To Omen and Serena it does, which is her name, by the way. Respect it."

Honrye dared to roll his eyes, but didn't let Duke leave his line of sight.

After giving the room a once over to make sure there really wasn't anything to be concerned for, he was feeling a bit sadistic so he crossed the room to try and peer into the winged cocoon the demon had made.

"What do you have in your lap?"

"Nothing," said the kid, too quickly.

"That's not concerning."

"It's just a stuffed animal."

"...You're hugging a stuffed animal?"

The kid said nothing, averting his eyes.

Duke recognized Mimi's evasion tactics. And while he didn't appreciate that she'd picked up such a habit from a demon, it did make him grin to see the demon uncomfortable.

"The fear demon who made the head of the Mexican cartel pee himself is snuggling a stuffed animal." Now that was entertaining.

The kid's wings hiked up, nearly hooking on the little black horns from his head. He'd turned to hide his gray face beneath one of them.

Duke chuckled, delighted at such a turn, and looked around with new eyes at the Poke'mon and colorful manga on the bookshelf. Life had such a way of surprising you.

"I'll be expecting your report on tonight's patrol," he said.

He turned and left, not waiting for the kid's reply. He sent a text to Omen and Serena to warn them that, despite how he may look, the gray thing in the basement wasn't a child before heading to the front where a car should already be waiting for him. 

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Depression and anxiety are weird, man. You keep getting this random thought 'maybe if I bury myself in a whole in the ground or in a forgotten basement it will get better.' Like no, dude. If anything that'll just turn you into the Wendigo or some urban Skinwalker on the prowl crocks and Dorito bags. But does mental illness care? Nope. So Native American monster it is. Better than just sitting here, wallowing in it.