Page 13 of Demon Food

Someday he’d move past this phase and maybe then he’d be grateful he had me to protect him. Me. No one else was willing to sacrifice for him the way I was. Not even himself.

He stretched an arm toward the door, his voice cold as he asked, “My cane. Hand it to me, please.”

I glanced at it, sucking my cheeks. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Never mind, I’ll get it,” he said, starting to hobble toward the door.

I rushed to it, so he didn’t have to. I ran my fingers over the part where he gripped it the hardest as I handed it over. It was an old wooden thing that’d started to splinter in places. I needed to get him another one, but money was tight to say the least.

He took it without a word, leaning heavily onto it as he twisted toward the balcony, starting with baby steps. “No, I’m not going anywhere, Feloré. As I have nowhere to go.”

My eyes rolled shut as I released a sigh, smearing a hand over my face. Shit. It was times like this when I wished we had more than one room. More than one bed to share. It’d likely be days before he even started to forgive me.

“Look, we’re both hungry. I know it’s late, but what if I got us a treat? The market hasn’t closed yet. I’ll get us a honey bread or a citrus. Sound good?”

He didn’t respond, lowering himself into the chair he kept by the balcony so he could watch the birds. Or in this case, the rain. He’d be there for a while.

I grabbed a log from our little stack and tossed it into the fire for him. Then I took my coat from the hook, hesitating by the door. “I’ll be back. Do you think you can stay awake for thirty minutes?”

Silence. Other than the popping of the wood, all that ensued was a long, blaring silence. So, I dare not say it, even if I wanted to.

I love you, Landry. Everything I do is because I love you.

5

It was two weeks later, and living with Landry had been challenging. I’d expected him to have moved on by now, but no such luck. He hadn’t spoken to me much, either, barring a few one-word answers between icy glares.

He’d also been cagier than I’d ever seen him, scribbling things in a journal he kept tucked beneath his pillow. I couldn’t help but suspect he was up to something. Like he was formulating a plan to speak to Terrek behind my back, which would be a nuisance but nothing I couldn’t handle.

With the stress at home, I’d found myself pouring most of my attention into Lennox, teaching him tricks of the trade like how to minimize his gag reflex or how to swindle a hungry demon out of extra coins by charging for ‘additional services’, only to have it be something nominal like a massage or hair braiding.

The progress was slow, but he was doing so much better. He’d built a small list of clients that visited him a few times a week. If he could just land one more vultus by the end of the day, he’d meet his quota for the first time.

I had a plan. I scored a quality robe (and by scored, I meant stole) because sometimes even just the appearance of success could help. A new robe implied the brothel owner felt confident enough to invest in him, so perhaps a vultus would feel the same.

If only he would answer his damn door.

“Lennox.” I knocked. “It’s me. Open up.”

Not a sound from the other side, which was odd. Typically, the door sprang open the moment I knocked, and there he was to greet me with a smile. I supposed it was early. Perhaps he was still in a deep sleep from a lover?

“Lennox.” I rapped again. “If we don’t get to the cauldron now, we might as well not go.”

That was what we called the community bathtub, as it was a heavy, dented black iron thing with green mossy scum growing around the rim. Like a fucking cauldron. They only filled it once a week on Bathing Day, and if you weren’t at least the fourth or fifth in line, it was debatable if it was even worth it.

“Okay, but don’t come crying to me when there’s no soap left,” I said, hanging his new robe on his doorknob for him to find. I couldn’t help but smile a little because I could see his face lighting up. You’re serious, Feloré? This is for me? Thank you. Thank you so much.

“Get some rest,” I said to his door, holding out the arms of the robe. It was a champagne color, and it was going to look nice on him. “Come find me.”

A few minutes later, I was stepping up the shifty ladder of the cauldron and trying not to think too hard about the questionable lukewarm water as I lowered myself inside.

Where I was immediately assaulted by a wad of hair.

“Gods,” I screeched, flinging it onto the washroom floor, which it hit with a wet splat.

Jaxlyn paused from where he’d been scuttling around, picking up towels. “What was that?”

“Nothing. Hey, I’m glad you’re here.” I twisted around, swishing my hands through the murky water in search of the soap. “Maybe you can help me out with something.”