Felicity’s hand reaches out in introduction. The demon steps forward and folds her wings behind her so that they loom impressively. She draws her talons in so that they’re only half as threatening.
A couple of people clap timidly, but she smiles as if she’s received a standing ovation. She primps a moment for the vid bot, then angles it to capture the picturesque view of the scenery behind: Victorian-style storefronts and cobbled streets, with wrought-iron streetlamps filtering their light through the canopy of mature oak trees lining the sidewalk. It’s upscale, but not unapproachable. Welcoming, in fact.
“No doubt you have questions,” the demon says, her words buoyant and practiced. Felicity knows a political speech when she hears one. “But these are not new questions brought on by my presence. These are the questions you’ve been struggling with for the entirety of your lives. You want to know if there’s more to life than trudging through the day to day. You want to know the purpose of your existence, if there’s anyone out there who appreciates the sacrifices you make for the good of others, who applauds your moral victories that often go unnoticed and unappreciated. Well, know this: I appreciate you.” She steps forward into the small group of people and reaches out with her hand. A man falters, backpedals, but the demon calms him as she presses her hand against his forehead. “You,” she says. “You work hard to support your four children. You stay with your wife, though you know she’s been unfaithful, so your family can remain intact. It eats you up inside. It’s killing you slowly, and yet the love you receive in your children’s laughs, their smiles, it fuels you. Especially from your youngest, Beka.”
The man looks startled, shakes his head, but then he loses it and turns to a blubbering mess. The demon pulls him in, allows him to weep on her shoulder.
“You must forgive her. She is a good woman who made a mistake. If you allow this to consume you, your children will lose you just the same. Do you understand?”
The man nods slowly, wiping away his tears.
She’s good, Felicity thinks. But she’s seen what this demon is truly capable of, what’s in her true heart. She knows what the demon could do if she had real power, and Felicity has to do everything possible to stop her from getting it. Felicity knows the people will listen, but she can’t move, can’t talk, which presents a bit of a dilemma. The only thing she has to fight with is what’s left of her mind. She puts aside the anger, the judgment, and absorbs the depths of the demon woman’s being. She feels her desire, her longing. This day has been brewing in her heart for decades, centuries even. This scares Felicity, but she doesn’t look away. She imagines the hardships the demon woman has endured, the continuous hiding of who she really is. The connections she’s had to make with people over and over again, only to repeatedly watch those she’d loved pass away until death lost its meaning.
You’re afraid to let anyone into your heart, Felicity thinks to her. You don’t have to be.
“You think you know me?” the demon growls under her breath. The grip tightens so abruptly that Felicity convulses. “You don’t even know who you are. What you are!”
Felicity cowers back into the shadowy depths of her mind. How was she supposed to know? Every time she starts to discover who she is, someone or another stirs up the contents of her brain. But the real her is still in here, somewhere. Covered up and buried, but not erased. She’ll find it, if it’s the last thing she does.
She concentrates, focused on all the little nooks and crannies of her memories, searching for something. She’s not sure what, but she senses she’s getting closer. Closer.
So close . . .
A familiar hard slap against the inside of her thigh jerks Felicity back to the present. Of all the times for her tuck to come undone! After the last rush job and subsequent wardrobe malfunction at the audition, Felicity had gone through more than enough athletic tape and nylon to keep this from happening again—even after all the sweat and friction from three full dance sequences and being carried halfway across the city by a deranged flying demon.
Perhaps not surprisingly, no one notices the bulge at the front of her dress. Some time ago, maybe even as recently as thirty minutes ago, this would have been headline news or at least garnered a hearty round of laughter at her expense. Felicity takes some comfort in that, for once, she’s free to just exist without outside pressures and expectations. Exactly how long this existence will last, well, that’s still to be determined.
Just be, Felicity thinks, holding on to each second as if it were her last. Just be yourself . . .
The swell between her legs lengthens, inching down her thigh, to her knees. Felicity tries to angle her head so she can see it, but her gaze is kept pointed toward the crowd. They’ve noticed it, too, now. But there’s no laughter. Not even a snicker. Just wide, terrified eyes.
And hissing.
Not hissing from the crowd, but from her crotch. Finally, she sees it—the meter-long cape cobra rising up to eye level, hood fully displayed, fangs glistening and ready to pierce flesh. Felicity doesn’t question why there’s a snake there; she just thinks about the possibilities of it. Over the course of her terms, Felicity has learned a thing or two about cape cobras. One bite has enough venom to kill six people. She wonders how much it would take to kill a demon.
She wills the snake to strike. Right at the demon’s jugular.
The demon panics, flexes her wings, unleashes her talons, and in that moment, the reins on Felicity loosen enough to get away. “Run for your lives!” she calls to the crowd, and like that, they snap from their trance, and flee in all directions.
The demon is back upon her. Felicity retreats a step and watches as the demon woman’s mouth cleaves open, widening past human proportions. Her nose and upper lip fuse, becoming hard and sharp. A beak. She squawks, a shrill note that penetrates Felicity’s eardrums with pulsing pain, the snake hastily retreating to her nether regions. Felicity manages a smile, or perhaps a slightly less doomed wince as she continues to back up, step by step, no hope for rescue. She butts up against the trunk of a concrete-bound tree. She tries to turn and run, but Sydney’s talon clamps down around Felicity’s throat, pinning her in place.
“Blood will be spilt for your foolishness,” she says, signaling her beasts with her free hand. They spring forward on their muscled haunches, hovering a meter above the pavement, snarling and drooling. “I’ll give them a taste for human flesh and then we’ll see how long it takes for you people to come begging for mercy.”