It's all written. I will post the rest of it, about five thousand words at a time, on Fridays. It won't take long to post it all. It isn't edited. I just don't have the time or patients right now. I wanted to go ahead and get it out there so those who were interested could 'finish' the story. I won't every actually finish it here, but the portion that was start here will be finished.
*
The breeze on the strand was cool and gentle. While it was by no means autumn even though the calendar said November, the oppressive heat of summer had moved on. Many of the tourists had gone with it as well. Annabel decided she should wander these streets during the off season once in a while. She may not generally like people, but they were always interesting. In this environment she could get the best of both worlds: peace and quiet and mild entertainment. She turned to look at Damien as they strolled past clothing boutiques, novelty shops and the occasional bar blaring music and wondered if life would get back to such a normal pace that something so simple would be the whole of her day.
"Something on your mind?" He asked without actually returning the glance.
"Is our question game done? I'm thinking you got what you wanted." She was just adding to the list, but what the hell. It wasn't like she was hiding much from him for long.
"True, but why would I end it? I'm curious what else I could get you to tell me before the day is out." He turned to her and smiled then. "Or longer. I don't think there was actually a definitive end on that one."
"No. But I might be more amenable to you if I was inclined to let my guard down, and that isn't happening as long as this game continues."
"Strange. I would think you'd want any reason to keep your guard up. But you win. Game over."
Even though he had a point she still considered it a victory.
The old wooden sign hanging above them indicated they'd arrived at the next destination. The inside didn't exactly look like she thought an old soda shop would, but then this was supposed to be older than the 50's. A short flight of worn stairs led up from the street level to a sea of white thin metal tables and chairs. All around the sides were every sweet you could think of: coffee, ice cream, fudge, more candies than Annabel thought possible, and truffles. There was even a museum of sorts dedicated to the history of candy making. It was a pretty cool place, though there were a few more people than she would have liked.
"I like it. A little crowed for the off season though."
"Says the girl who enjoys going to a standing room only club on Saturday nights." Damien commented as he guided her to the soda bar on the left.
Annabel shrugged.
"I like to show off sometimes."
"At least you're honest. Drink?"
"Cherry coke. So why here?" Annabel asked still looking around the building. Had it really been that long since she'd been anywhere but work and home?
"Why not?" He said shaking his head. "I'll tell you a secret. Honestly this is the first time in some time I haven't had a plan plucked from someone's mind. I'm winging it."
Damien led them to one of the empty tables as soon as they had the hand mixed sodas they'd ordered.
"Ok, you read minds. Interesting." By this time nothing really surprised her with him, still he didn't answer the question. "But, why here?"
He took a moment, looking at her with an almost smile on his face.
"It feels good."
"Here...feels good." Annabel repeated his answer, her voice hued with doubt.
"Yes. Ice cream. Chocolate. Fudge. Laughter. It all feels good."
He was right. Even her aversion to crowds didn't overshadow the general lightness of the atmosphere. She took a drink of the coke pondering the creature in front of her.
"It's not exactly sexy though."
"Does everything you do involve food in some way, Belle?" His lips parted in an amused grin.
"No." she answered, laughing at the absurdness of the question before realizing it was her that had been a little absurd. To her it was bizarre that he would so easily equate sex with food in the nourishment sense, but it was. It had been for thousands of years. Maybe he wouldn't give her the mechanics, but somehow that was food. "I see."
"Why are you so alone?"
"I already told you." She answered scowling.
"No." He was shaking his head, no hint of subterfuge or planning just curiosity. "I know you have a phone. I stole it once. Yet in the three days I've been here I've never seen you pick it up. The only person I've seen you talk to you liked little enough to sick a possible malicious entity on her. You're alone. You are the most alone person I've ever seen. I've been around humans that retreat into the woods to live like animals but this is different. You are alone in the middle of a million people. Why?"
"What? Never met anyone like me?" Annabel quipped.
"Don't be silly. What was it? Every story under the sun has already been told. That's in the Bible or something." He mumbled the last part. "But I'm always curious regardless. You all tell the story differently."
It would have been gratifying to be the only one he'd ever met like her in 5,000 years if she was honest with herself, but that was silly. The number of people he must have met was unfathomable to her.
"I just...don't connect with people. Period. I don't understand them for the most part. And then I have no real desire to. I do like to watch them though. Sometimes I think I don't belong in this world."
Not the way you are now but there is nothing to change that
. He mused to himself. The need for hunters was long past. There hadn't been an upstart from his kind since he could remember. At face value he would consider her a poor unlucky thing, but she came along for him at the perfect time. Of course humans were terrible at realizing the value in any purpose.
"If there was a rule on belonging you would probably be exactly where you belong, but since there are no rules you still are. You found me."
"Oh good my crisis of faith in the world is miraculously cured." She grumbled. "Besides you found me. I wasn't looking."
"Hmmm...if that's the way you want to see it."
Annabel was completely lost on how he could possibly think she was looking for anything like him and the trouble he represented. Several times her lips parted in an effort to rebuff the comment, but every time there was nothing to say. Because of him she had someone to talk to which, like it or not, everyone needs. Because of him she was getting a glimpse of another world and maybe the question of whether or not she belonged in this one would finally be answered. And now, because of him, who knew what was next. Still, just because someone has questions does not necessarily mean they are looking for the answers.
"On one hand I suppose five thousand years gives you the right to be so sure of yourself. On the other, you are supposed to live that long, and longer. Maybe you take longer to learn things. You've already said time goes by differently." Annabel waited for a rebuttal but Damien only nodded.
"True."
"So it does take you longer?"
"No." he laughed. "But your logic is sound. Kind of makes you wonder what a fruit fly would know if it lived as long as you."
She sighed and drew circles in the little puddle her glass made on the table.
"What is your name?" She asked after a few minutes of silence. It wasn't that the silence was uncomfortable, but sitting there without asking something given the vessel of knowledge in front of her was impossible. Besides, the name he used couldn't possibly be of Egyptian origin. Or maybe they spoke perfect English and just left all those funny pictures for humans to find eons later as a practical joke.
Damien was speechless. He dealt with his own kind so little that the idea of his own name was little more than a faded memory, but it was still there. His first reaction was to say that she would not understand. Forget lacking the proper vocal chords to produce the sound, one needed something else entirely to understand their language. Then again, technically, she was something else entirely.
"What makes you curious of so simple a thing?" He asked, still contemplating the idea of trying to legitimately answer her question.
"You may have seen every story, but I haven't. Nothing is simple when it comes to you. Besides, if I'm meeting someone for the first time the first question I ask them is not going to be 'so tell me your whole life story'. It's 'hi, I'm Annabel, what is your name?' Though you're probably going to tell me that I can't pronounce it or something."
"Actually there is no pronouncing it. We have no need for words generally. It makes any language of yours a bitch to learn."
"Even better. How exactly do you speak without words? Even if you talk telepathically or whatever you still have words don't you?"
"No. I can't even explain how we communicate." Damien looked perplexed. It was abnormal on his drool worthy features. Even with the intellectual course their conversation had been sticking to, looking to long at him had Annabel's mind drifting to a more seductive location.
"I'll just tell you. Maybe you'll get it, maybe you won't." He continued finally.
The demon, though that term was fitting him less and less, made no movements. To any onlooker the table's occupants had suddenly run out of things to talk about and were sitting quietly staring at their drinks until another topic presented itself. As difficult as it was for Annabel to grasp, the truth was exactly the opposite. She heard nothing in any context she could relate to, but knew what he said nonetheless. It was that otherworldly cinnamon and heat and breath; a feeling that was simply known, not felt. Their language was some strange form of emotions and she could understand it!
"Holy crap."
"I take it you got that."
"I don't know how. Is it common for humans to understand your language?" Annabel asked a little bewildered.
Lying: It wasn't in him. How many questions would telling her that she was the only one that had ever understood his language prompt, however? He continued pondering his answer until the girl in front of him started to wonder.
"Damien?" She might understand his language, but it wasn't something she could grasp enough to simply start using. The name he spoke to her would have to continue to suffice.
"No." He said finally. "It's not common."
"How uncommon is it?" she pressed.
