Barn Rest Part 2

After the war, most of the demons had returned to Pandemonium. However, those who remained were often enslaved or abused, cast aside, and looked down upon by society. Just thinking that the Succubus might have been tortured or experienced unsavory things made the Witch queasy.

The Succubus blinked at the Witch. “Oh no, I lived among humans after I learned transfiguration magic. I became a female courtesan to ensure I had an adequate supply of nutrients without killing humans. I was so popular that my patron even wanted to buy me,” the Succubus said, narrowing her eyes, remembering the past.

“But I couldn’t stand humans because they sell their young and beat people for no reason.” The demon’s face scrunched up as if remembering children being beaten. Demons treasured their young ones much more than humans. It was unthinkable to beat their children and even more so to sell them to brothels.

“It wasn’t until later that I realized that to humans, fairness isn’t important. When bad things happen to them, they complain but don’t do anything about it or realize they caused their own misfortunes. The girls that were sold to the brothels, the children, they cry but were helpless. It was sickening to watch.”

The Witch thought back to her time when she lived among the demons and their constant violence against each other. “But you demons also fight all the time,” the Witch said. She stifled a yawn. It wasn’t even her usual bedtime yet. She could feel her body weakening from fatigue.

“We only do it if both parties agree and if we’re on similar levels. It would be unfair if we fight with someone who could barely fight back,” the Succubus said.

Even though the Witch wanted to know more, she was having difficulty keeping her eyes open, and they had a long road ahead of them.

“Perhaps we should sleep now, My Lady,” the Succubus suggested.

The Witch nodded, too tired to respond with words.

The Succubus laid out the blanket they borrowed from the barn owner. She carefully tucked the Witch in, then laid down next to the Witch and guarded her sleep.

☄⚝☄⚝

I often dream of a demon. Under a willow tree, he reads to me. After he reads, he holds my hands. His hands are warm—so tender and so loving—that it makes me want to cry. I want to squeeze him back, tell him I miss him. I can’t. My body can’t move. My mouth can’t speak. Then I sink into another dream of witches, swords, monsters, and a journey with a demon that ends in death. Yet, if I were asked whether I’d be willing to repeat this dream, I’d say, “Yes,” a million times just to see the demon again, feel his warmth on my skin, and see his kind eyes reflected in my own.

☄⚝☄⚝

The following day when the Witch woke up, she found breakfast, hot and plentiful, awaited next to her hay bed.

The Succubus came in with a pan of water and knelt at the Witch’s side.

The Witch stretched and turned her neck. “I think I feel better than yesterday,” she said. “Maybe my demonic energy was too low, and I just didn’t notice because I rarely use it. Having you next to me must have helped somehow. Maybe it’s a resonating effect or something.”

The Succubus handed the Witch a damp towel for her face. “I’m glad I was able to help,” the Succubus said. She set the pan of water on her lap and reached for the Witch’s hands.

“Yesterday, I didn’t get to finish what I was saying,” the Succubus said as she gently took the Witch’s hands and dipped them into the warm water. The Witch wanted to take her hand back, but remembering the Succubus's disappointed expression yesterday, she stayed still.

“You’re the first human to try to understand us. Never before had a human wanted to know us. All they knew was to fear and hate us. They see us as strong creatures who are violent and evil. You’re the first to ask if we have families, if we feel sad when we go to war, and if we feel pain when we get hurt.”

The Succubus looked up at the Witch, whose morning bleary eyes woke up at attention to the demon’s words.

Drying the Witch’s hand with a soft towel, the Succubus continued, “A cambion had no choice but to be half demon and half human. You choose to give your heart to our Lord; in exchange, he gave you a part of himself.

“Your heart, fashioned out of our Lord’s flesh, beats inside your chest. Every time we see you, we could see the influence of the demon flesh spreading, integrating into the rest of your body, turning your flesh and bone into that of a demon. Yet, you still retain your humanness.

“Can you imagine a human willingly becoming a demon? That’s why every time you visit us, we’re so excited to see you, to see how much of your body has become like ours, and what part of you remained the same.”

Embarrassed, the Witch retracted her hands. The Witch turned her head away from the Succubus looking at the her with great admiration. The Witch wanted to dig a hole in the ground and hide.

“I don’t deserve such sentiments, especially since feelings are so hard to come by for demons,” the Witch said.

The Succubus reached around and gently took the Witch’s hand. “My Lady, precisely because our feelings rarely arise that this is precious, and you are precious to us. Can you not avert your gaze, and instead, face us and accept our feelings?”

The Witch realized she had made a mistake. It was inconsiderate of her to turn away when the Succubus was being so sincere. As much as she felt uncomfortable and embarrassed, she turned to face the Succubus.

“My apologies,” the Witch said. “I’m not sure how to react, truth to be told. At that time, I just did what I wanted because I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t think I’d live to see today or even survive the ordeal at all. I’m not sure how to accept your feelings, but I’ll acknowledge and respect them.”

“Thank you, that’s all I need. That’s all we need,” the Succubus said, squeezing the Witch’s hand softly.

“I should be the one to thank you,” The Witch said. She put her other hand on the Succubus’s and held them thankfully. “For your guidance and your protection.”

“It is my pleasure, My Lady,” the Succubus said. She lowered her head and touched the Witch’s hand to her forehead.

With such a display of affection and honor, the Witch couldn’t help but blush.