The Demon Side (10 page)

“Yeah, I hope so. It just sucks for right now. I wish my mom was still around sometimes.” Etta had such sadness in her voice as she spoke.

“I thought René was your mother.”

“Hell no! My real mom died when I was ten,” Etta said as a tear ran down her cheek.

“So how did your dad meet up with a winner like René?” I asked, wiping her tear away.

“My mom was killed by a drunk driver on her way home from work one night. René was my mom’s best friend. She took care of me when my dad got deployed to Afghanistan for eighteen months. He would call to check in on me when he had the chance. He’d talk to René for hours about how I was doing, if we needed anything. I guess that’s when their relationship developed, because six months after he came home, they got married.”

“So that blue dress belonged to your real mother?” I felt horrible now for having ripped it. Though I still believed it to be a hideous dress, I could understand why Etta would want to wear it, making it seem all the more beautiful.

“Yeah, she wore it to her graduation dinner so I thought since she couldn’t be there at mine, I would bring a piece of her with me.” Etta sniffed the snot running down her nose as she tried to hold back her emotions.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” I sincerely apologized to Etta. I didn’t want to stay on the topic anymore. I’m sure she missed her birth mother even more now that she had been replaced with a wretch like Rene, and I didn’t want her dwelling on it. “Why would your father marry such a useless troll?”

“Who? Rene? She hasn’t always been that way. She used to be really cool. She would teach me all sorts of craft stuff and every Thursday, we would have a girl’s night out. We would typically go to the movies to watch chick-flicks that would make my dad squirm. But, after Alastor started coming around, it all changed. He started messing with her first and that’s when she started drinking heavily. I guess he doesn’t care for drunks either because that’s when he moved on to me.”

My efforts to keep Etta from dwelling on sorrowful memories failed as she remembered her good life before the world of Angels and Demons collided with her world. This whole family had enough pain, anger, and trouble to feed ten Demons. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and tell her it’d be okay, but I couldn’t trust myself not to kiss her and be able to stop.

“So, what song were you playing?” I asked.

“Oh, just some song my mom used to play. She was into the whole ‘mod-rock’ thing,” Etta said, a proud smile on her face.

“Play it again.” I wanted Etta to play her guitar to get her mind off the loss of her mother, but I also wanted to see the passion in her eyes that her body had shown earlier as she played.

“It’s
What Difference Does it Make
by Morrissey and The Smiths. I could play it for you if you want, but I’ll warn you I’m a horrible singer.” Etta picked up her guitar and unplugged the headphones. Just as she began playing, the house shook as the front door slammed. My first instinct first told me that it was Alastor, but the shake wasn’t violent enough to be done by one of us.

“Can I come in?” John spoke through the door.

“Yeah, sure, Dad.”

“Hey. Playing that ol’ song again? You were always a fan of that one. It used to drive me nuts when your mom would blast it in the car. You remind me so much of her.” John rested on the bed. If he’d known how close he sat next to me, he probably would have had a stroke.

“Yeah, Dad, I know. You tell me all the time,” Etta said, annoyed.

“I know I do, but sometimes I just can’t get over it.” John patted the bed next to him. The look on his face told me that this father-daughter talk would be anything but fun. John looked tired, worn out, and frankly, beaten down. He was probably going to get on her about not taking her medication or offer to order more pizza.

Etta got up from the floor and plopped on the other side of her father. It would have been funny if she landed on my lap. Maybe Etta levitating on my lap would be proof enough for John.

John held Etta’s hand on her thigh and delivered the best news I’ve heard to date. “René left us, baby. She’ll be back tomorrow to get the rest of her things, but after that, she won’t be coming back.”

Etta shrugged off the news. My guess is she didn’t want to sound too enthusiastic.

“You guys used to be so close. What happened to those days?” The man seemed oblivious to the damage Alastor caused to the lives of the women around him. I’m sure a lot of their problems could have been avoided if René had showed half the strength Etta did instead of using a bottle to cope.

“Oh, well you know, addiction and mental illness tend to take their toll after a while.” It was good to see Etta use her sarcasm on someone other than me and greedy, overweight realtors.

“I thought everything was going along great for us, but it seems it’s just gotten worse.” John choked as he tried to hide the sound of desperation and uncertainty in his voice.

“Dad, everything is fine.” Etta curled her head into John’s chest, wrapping her arms around him. She knew all too well the man was breaking down and tried to console him. If hugs could build people up from ashes, I’d be out of a job.

“Well, humor me right now. Tell me what’s going on. Is it the stress of graduation next week?”

Etta looked at me from across John’s chest. She didn’t know what to say. Usually, I would whisper in a person’s ear to lie, but this situation proved much different. I needed him to believe she really wasn’t insane, so I could get the truth out of him.

“Tell him, Etta.” I needed her to push deeper into John’s past, to get him to open up so I could learn firsthand how he freed Alastor. It was the only way I would know how to break their bond.

“Well, I tried to tell you earlier, I’ve been hanging out with that Demon named Raha-whatever,” Etta explained to John.

“It’s Rahovart, Etta.” I corrected. Butchering my name was pet peeve number two of mine, which was the reason why I wanted her to just call me Ra. Maybe she thought using my full name would make her story more believable.

“Rahovart—he’s a pretty decent guy. This is his house. He’s been helping me a lot with Alastor, the bad Demon.” Etta made it sound so nonchalant, as if she were talking about some boy at school she wanted to go on a date with and tried to convince her father that it was purely innocent.

John, for once, wouldn’t be getting his daughter off the Demon topic. If he wanted to know what was truly going on, he would have to bend his beliefs. He sat quietly staring at the floor, thinking of his next move. Etta and I both waited patiently for his response.

“Okay, say I believe all of this. Does this good Demon know why this Alastor one is bothering you and giving us so much trouble?” It wasn’t the response I wanted, but it was a good start.

“Rahovart, or Ra, as he prefers to be called, thinks you did something bad that released Alastor while you were deployed.” Etta seemed impressed with herself as she pronounced each syllable of my name properly.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me this is what you see and believe, Etta.” John pulled Etta up from his chest and stared into her eyes.

“It’s all true, Dad.”

“Okay, so what does Ra-ho-vart—did I say that right?” Etta gave a small nod. “So what does he say to do to get rid of the bad Demon?”

“I can possibly answer that if I knew what he did to release him.” I directed my answer to Etta.

“Well, he says he needs to know what you could have done that was bad enough to release him.”

“You know I don’t tell war stories, baby. What happens there stays there, plus it’s nothing your ears need to hear. Your friend is going to have to figure out another way to get rid of him.”

“Dad, I’m a big girl. I can handle it. If you tell us, maybe we could end it all. I told you what you wanted to know. Maybe you could do the same for me.”

John rested his head in his hands and took in a few deep breaths. She gave me a
what-do-I-do-now
look behind his back.

“Ask him one last time. If he doesn’t talk, Etta, I’ll be forced to do a deep walkthrough on him.” I completely bluffed but I had to get her to push him harder.

“Dad, please tell us.” She tugged John’s shoulder.

“Us?” John nervously chuckled. He didn’t believe Etta for a moment. “Fine, okay, God help me for what I’ve done.”
Great—that name again
.

“Only one situation comes to mind. It happened before I came home the last time and everything went bad on the home front. There was a small village outside of Kholm, Iraq, that was hit pretty hard by a group of insurgents. They were taking the young boys to Al Qaeda training camps and killing whoever tried to stop them. We were sent in to defuse the threat and restore day-to-day life for the people. Everything went according to plan. We stayed in the village for a few weeks getting to know the people and distributing supplies, blankets, and food. The people welcomed us into their homes and treated us like heroes. I met a twelve-year-old girl named Badria. She reminded me so much of you, Etta. She had your spunk, determination, and your big heart.

“But like all good things, it had to come to an end. Other people needed our help. The people cried as we marched out of the village to our next assignment. As we were leaving, the insurgents were returning. They knew we couldn’t do a thing unless they shot at one of us. Behind us you could hear the cries and screams of women and children. As I looked back, I saw three men gathered around Badria as she cried over her father’s body. When one grabbed her by her hair and threw her on the ground, I lost it. I ran back toward the village, shooting as I went. My men followed me, shooting as well. Insurgents don’t wear uniforms like we do and with the chaos of everything going on, you couldn’t tell who was who. I shot a man in the back. He turned to see who had shot him before taking his last breath. It was Rammi, Badria’s uncle. He cradled her in his arms trying to flee from the gunfire. The bullet passed through his chest and into Badria’s head. Innocent lives were lost because I didn’t follow the rules of engagement.

“When we returned to our camp, I lied and said they opened fire on us. Many of my men lied for me and now they have to live with the guilt of what I did and the guilt of what they did because of my reckless decisions. Washington knew we were lying, but because of my ‘impeccable’ record, they decided to demote me to gunny and threw me into a desk job instead of into Leavenworth where I belonged. Most of my men lost their careers.”

I never saw John as a crying man, but when a tear fell from his face as he spoke, I knew exactly what Alastor was feeding off of. The blood on his hands and his guilt made John a perfect endless source of dark energy for a Demon. Anytime he stopped producing, all Alastor had to do was antagonize John through René and Etta to stir up his soul. John became a source no Demon would ever give up willingly. If Alastor returned, it would be a life or death battle for him. Without a source, Alastor would have no choice but to return home. I couldn’t kill John just to get rid of Alastor so I could save Etta. I hoped John would give me an easy fix, but all he did was make the situation ten times more complicated.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this. I should get to bed and so should you. We’ll finish talking in the morning.” John stood up and kissed Etta on the forehead.

“Good night, Dad.”

“Good night, baby. I love you.” John’s face hung heavy with worry. He’d just spilled all of his inner demons to his daughter. No father would want his daughter to see him as a monster, but when Etta replied, “Love you, too, Dad,” John released a small sigh of relief.

Etta plopped back onto her bed and stared at the ceiling for a few moments. I wished I could hear her thoughts. Her father had just admitted to being a murderer for all practical purposes, though that was not how I viewed him. I truly believed John only tried to save the village, but his fervor and some help from a desperate Alastor turned what should have been a heroic act into a bloodbath. Many men have unknowingly fallen from grace in the name of the greater good. Now, hopefully Etta would see that her father was just the victim of blurred lines between good and evil.

“What are you thinking?” I asked as I lay down next to her on the bed.

“Can a person still go to Heaven even if they’ve killed someone?”

“Well, I’m not in the business of getting people to Heaven, Etta. That’s the last place I want them to go,” I reluctantly replied.

“Even if it were me?” Etta stared hard at me with watery eyes, looking right into my blackened soul. I never gave much thought to where her soul would go, except to stop her from mistakenly giving it to me.

“That is a choice for you to make. I can’t force you to choose a side. I can only put the temptations in front of you.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“What do you want me to say? I want to see you burn in the depths of Hell? You’ll never hear that from me. Only you and your actions can decide where you go when you leave this world.”

“I would go if it meant I could be with you, you know.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” As much as I would have loved for that to be the case, her comment angered me. I couldn’t imagine a person like her becoming something like me.