Demon Stories

Diana: Judgement Call, 1803, England

Diana

Judgement Call

1803, England

I rarely kill. One does not have to get one's hands dirty when there is a little assassin present. However, this time I would be the one to pass judgement, to take the life with my own emotional hands.

This little assassin was currently playing with my hair, as she had recently developed a habit to do. 

"Don't pull, Violette," I ordered, and continued to write my letter. I put the tip of the quill on my tongue, which was a bad habit. However, it helped me think. These habits. We all picked them up from Beau because we adored him. We loved that laughing, charming boy. But he was not laughing or smiling anymore. My poor friend.

As I wrote in quick, pointed letters, I thought about the state he'd been in when we had made contact about ten years ago. He just had not been himself, frantic and seeming to be in a confusing cloud. We had made visits to France, Germany, Austria, wherever he was at the time, talking to him and trying to act like everything was normal but it was far from normal. He may have tricked the little one, but not me. He could never trick me. Something had been severely wrong.

He was a fright when he arrived at our doorstep five months ago, quite literal. I had shoved the little one away, and taken him into my room. I knew the little one was listening at the door, but I didn't want her to see him like this.

He could not even put two words together. I just sat there on the bed with him, my hands on his shoulders, staring at him square on. He could not look at me. Then, with a shock to my entire system, he just started to cry. Weeping like a little child with deep, deep sorrow. So in shock was I that I could not even comprehend to comfort him. I had never seen him cry. This jovial, energetic, joyous, dear person was just losing it in front of me. We sat there together, as he cried for hours.

He still will not tell me exactly what is wrong, but I have a feeling. There are rumors. The timelines sync up. It is said there became a terrible demon in the last one hundred years, a demon of all red who destroyed entire villages. A demon who had a human demon lover, a slave. I do not want to assume, but I did not know him for the last one hundred years except for those few visits. If there is one thing Beau is, it is expertly deceptive. Could he have been hiding this from us? Was this what was severely wrong, that I had sensed?

The letter was nearly complete, and I held it up to see better. 

"If you do not cease with you pursual of this one, I shall come for you," Violette read. She paused, and I eyed her just over my shoulder. "That is tired. May I write it over? May I write it please?" She was excited. "Who are you coming for? Is it that lady? Oh let me do it for you! Let me!" She was bouncing now.

You see, there is a troubling lady whom we have met time and again lately in this country town. Violette and I have lived here for nearly five years. We have gotten to know our neighbors, however sparse they are. There are about sixty in this town, not too many. 

When Beau came to live with us, there came one out of the woodwork who became a large pain in our side. Oh this lady. The second she saw Beau she became attached to him. She would see him at the market or walking beside me or with Violette. These instances increased in frequency and now she was everywhere. I know she had memorized our favorite places.