“It is possible to feel compassion for strangers.”
“She’s gotten herself pregnant out of wedlock,” he said. “She made her own choice.”
“We don’t know her circumstances.”
He followed the signs back onto I-40 west, and I could sense the argument was over.
“Why did you say I’m unwilling to see the demons?” I asked.
“I’d venture to say you’ve not opened yourself to evil. You have to be willing to really see it and accept it for what it is.”
“I don’t want to be open to evil. I don’t even like to watch the news. I know it’s out there, but the details hurt too much—feeling all of those people’s suffering.”
He gave me a quizzical glance. “What do you mean, ‘feeling their suffering’?”
“I’m not always good at blocking their emotions, especially if it’s a big group of people with a lot of dark emotion. I try to push it away, but sometimes it still seeps in, and it hurts.”
“You mean you actually feel the emotions they emit? Not just see it?”
“Yeah,” I said, “don’t you?”
“No! I can only see their colors. Feeling them must be an attribute from your mother.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what to say to that.
“Wait,” he said, the threat of a smile on his face. “Does that mean you feel lustful every time somebody near you feels it?”
“No, pervo. It’s not like that—it’s more like an unsatisfied longing for something. It’s uncomfortable.”
“Hmm. Too bad. Well, no offense,” he said, “but you’ll need to toughen up a bit. It would benefit you to see demons and know what they’re up to.”
He was right. I knew I would have to deal with it, but right now I was focused on getting information.
“What exactly do the demon spirits do?” I asked.
“They whisper not-so-sweet nothings into human ears.” He drove with one hand. The other hand twirled a pen back and forth between his fingers without much attention to it.
“What do you mean?”
“You know the little voice in your head?” he asked. “The one humans like to call their ‘conscience’?” I nodded. “It’s actually the messages people are receiving from their guardian angels. You see, the demon spirits whisper thoughts into a person’s mind, and the demon thoughts battle it out with the human’s own feelings, along with the messages their guardian angels are trying to instill. The old cliché about a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other is not far off. A demon might whisper to a girl that she’s unattractive and unworthy of love. Then he’s gone. His job is done. He moves on to the next victim. The girl’s angel then whispers that she is beautiful and she is worthy, blah, blah, blah. Which do you think she’ll choose to believe?”
It was so unfair. I pushed on with my questions.
“How often do the demons visit people?”
“It depends on the need. Once a month. Once a year. It varies from person to person.”
“Why are they allowed to do this?” I couldn’t help but feel betrayed on behalf of humanity. I was jolted by the bitter edge in Kaidan’s response.
“Maybe because the Creator is not as good and loving as you give Him credit for.”
“You’re angry at Him?” I wasn’t sure why it surprised me.
“He’s never done me any favors. I was damned from the moment of conception, and you probably were, too, with or without your bit of angel.”
“What do you mean by that?”
He ran a hand through his hair and stared hard at the road. “I mean there’s no chance of redemption for the Neph. It’s the first lesson we learn during training. We go to hell, just like our fathers.”
Wait. What? He had to be mistaken.
“I don’t see how that can be possible,” I said. “Maybe your father didn’t want you getting any lofty ideas about not being the prodigy lust boy.”
“We’ll see,” he said. “Ask your own father when you meet him.”
I tried to focus on the landscape and not the confused feelings inside me. I couldn’t even bring myself to get excited at the Texas state line. All I could think about was the possibility of being condemned to hell. It couldn’t be true. I would find out the truth, although I wished it didn’t have to be from the demon who fathered me.
I leaned against the door, zoning out at the flat expanse of land in every direction, and let my eyes close.
A nudge against my arm made me crack my bleary eyes and look around. I sat up and smoothed my hair back as my vision adjusted. We were out in the middle of nowhere. Miles of flat nothingness.
“Sorry to wake you, but I have to stop for petrol.”
We got gas at a small country store, along with sandwiches, apples, drinks, and rocky-road fudge made by the owner’s wife.