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I also couldn’t bring her to a hotel when she was as roughed-up as she was. The human cops would come knocking with questions that neither of us could answer.
See, the thing was, despite how long I’d been walking around the human plane, I hadn’t exactly made a lot of friends.
Part of that was because most other people and creatures died eventually.
The other part, obviously, was because I could barely function with Dale’s rejection of my Claiming, so going out and seeing anyone unless I absolutely had to was out of the question.
But I did know someone.
While I wouldn’t exactly call us close, he was the kind of man who considered everyone his friend. He would open his doors for me.
Though, to be fair, he opened his doors to everyone.
Arick.
Our friendly neighborhood warlock.
One of the most powerful in the world, in fact.
Not that you would know that by how he lived his life. He spent more time partying than working on his skills.
Arick was more of a ‘work smarter, not harder’ sort of man. He used his skills to cater to the richest of the humans, something that left him with a very comfortable lifestyle that allowed for him to pursue his other passions.
Art.
Plants, for some weird fucking reason.
Partying.
And women.
I don’t know what most people picture when you ask them what kind of home a warlock might live in. I would bet good money that most wouldn’t say a two-story modern building made of dark gray metal. The large windows were mirrored, which made it impossible to see inside even in the bright daylight.
He had a pool, a hot tub, and an art studio in the backyard.
But for the first time probably ever, there weren’t half-naked women frolicking around. There weren’t men trying their luck with said women. There was no music or caterers around.
It was just Arick’s sleek car in the driveway.
And silence.
“The fuck,” I mumbled to myself as I walked down the driveway with Dale in my arms.
She wasn’t actively crying anymore, but she was still whimpering quietly.
“We’re almost there, baby,” I murmured. “I’ll fix you up,” I added.
I didn’t know what I could actually do for her, though. I could treat the wounds, sure, but that wasn’t going to do much.
I guess if all else failed, I could bum some drugs off of Arick to numb her until her body could heal itself.
For a long second, I thought maybe Arick wasn’t home.
But when I got to the front door, it slid silently open, inviting me in.
“Arick?” I called as I stepped inside.
I’d only ever seen his place when it was packed with people. Without them, the space was huge.
While the outside of Arick’s place was minimalist, the inside was as maximalist as you could get. Lots of dark walls, knick-knacks, collections, and art. In some rooms, the canvases were stacked five or six deep against the wall.
“Arick?” I called as I moved through the front of the house and toward the back where the kitchen was situated. But also his den where he was usually to be found lounging on the mattress floor with several women.
“Interesting pair,” a deep voice said as soon as I stepped into the kitchen.
And there he was, sitting at the table, cradling a mug between his large hands.
It was the most still I’d ever seen him.
Well, everything about him was still except the tattoos up and down his arms. Which were moving so fast that it was almost nauseating.
Arick was almost freakishly tall. He would have looked down on that demon I’d killed in the woods. He had long black hair, a chiseled jaw, grass-green eyes, and a lean, fit body.
“This is a bad time,” I said. It wasn’t a question, but Arick sighed and nodded regardless.
“Yes, but that wouldn’t have deterred you anyway. It will be quite a story to tell some day. A demon falling in love with a demonslayer.”
“I’m sorry it’s a bad time, but I needed somewhere safe to bring her, so she can heal.”
“Of course, my friend,” he said, waving a hand out. “Make yourself at home. The hallway closet upstairs has a first aid kit. My nightstand has any drug you might need, legal and not.”
“I appreciate it, Arick,” I said, getting a simple, distracted nod from him.
It was so uncharacteristic for him that I actually turned back before I left the room.
“Is something happening?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Something big?” I pressed.
“Bigger than you can imagine.”
“You’re worried about it.”
“Yes, my friend. As you should be too.”
“What is it?”
“The old gods,” he said, shaking his head. “They’re awake.”
The old gods?
I had no idea what he meant by that.
From what I understood, there was just the one God.
“It is a long story, my friend. One for a time when your lady friend isn’t whimpering in pain.”
With that, he got off his chair, opened the back door, and disappeared into the backyard.
