Humans and Demons and Elves Page 5

  “About time,” the Archaedemon squeaked. He ignited himself like the Human Torch, but Edofine’s quick spell prevented the fire from scorching his palms. As the Archaedemon burned, he shrank even further until he was the size of Edofine’s thumb. “Hurry.”

  “You fool! You thought I would listen to you, after what your people did to my home?”

  “Explain...later...I’m...dying...” The voice grew softer with each word.

  “Sara! Sara! How do I heat him?” Edofine asked, dashing into the kitchen.

  “What is that thing?” Sara asked.

  “No time! He has lost his color already, and he will dwindle into nothingness soon. I need to heat him hundreds of degrees.”

  “A hot bath?”

  “Not hot enough. We need something that will cook meat.”

  “The oven?”

  Edofine threw the Archaedemon in the oven and slammed it shut. Sara turned the dials to six hundred degrees Fahrenheit, along with the light switch. Edofine bent down and watched the figure inside through the window. “He will survive. The fool,” he repeated. “That is an Archaedemon, Sara. This one is named Krith. He is the lowest of the low, a scoundrel, a debtor, a gambler, and an alcoholic. He is also a member of the tribe that destroyed my village.”

  “Then why did you save his life?”

  “I could hardly watch a helpless creature die, could I? What kind of monster would that make me?”

  “Are they all that small?”

  “Only when they have been cold for a long time. They convert their mass into energy, burning their size to keep their bodies warm. As Krith heats, he will grow until he is my size. They also lose their circulation, so they go from bright red to a more human tone. Except for the color your husband is. Why was he so angry with me?”

  While Edofine watched Krith, who had fallen fallen asleep, Sara did her best to summarize the concept of racism and the long history of the African American. Edofine found it ludicrous that humans drew lines of distinction within their own species. Sara pointed out that Elves drew lines of distinction within their own genus.

  “That is a different matter entirely,” Edofine argued. “Humans really are untrustworthy. I cannot fathom why Kryvek likes them so much.”

  Sara was about to say, “You hypocrite, I’m human,” but she let it go. He was going through enough at moment already. Maybe his lapse of memory meant he accepted her.

  When she returned to John, she said, “There’s something in Kryvek’s apartment that will make you believe.”

  “I’m not going over there, Sara. You shouldn’t spend so much time with those creeps.” John had taken the TV out first thing, and he sat sulking, watching football.

  “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight,” Sara replied, folding her arms.

  “But baby!” John protested.

  “I don’t want to talk right now.” In another hour, Sara thought, she would visit Edofine to see if Krith had reached full size yet.

  Chapter Five

  Squatters and Tenants and Landlords

  Kryvek hummed the symphony all the way up the five floors he climbed to reach his apartment. A woman in the concert audience came up to the stage after the performance was over, shyly confiding to him that she had a fondness for flutists. He had her phone number in his back pants pocket. Reaching a crescendo at the top of the stairs, he flung his suit coat in the air and caught it again.

  His tuneful course stopped when he opened the door to his home. Edofine was washing the windows innocently enough, but both his thought-music and unnaturally fixed smile communicated tension. “Cousin…” Edofine began.

  Kryvek held up a finger. “Wait. Let me guess. Did you break something?”

  “No.”

  “Did you kill one of my ferns?”

  “No. They grew a few extra inches, for they like my song.”

  “Did you frighten the neighbors?”

  “No. They frightened me, staring at me with such manners.”

  “Did you…”

  “Cease this line of inquiry! I could not help this wrong from coming to pass; Krith was in death’s forest.” Edofine scurried to put away the Windex and rag, returning with a red face. “He is within your oven.”

  Who was in what now? Kryvek leaned against the wall, rubbing his temples. “Explain.”

  “Look in the oven,” Edofine replied, pulling him up and leading him over.

  Through the heat resistant glass, Kryvek saw the shelves had been pulled out to accommodate the presence of what appeared to be a sleeping half-naked, hot pink three-year-old. However, the head wasn’t disproportionately large the way children’s were, and human children didn’t have bat-like wing membranes stretching from their arms to their backs, positioned like the parachutes of flying squirrels. The ears were also pointy—not the delicately curved tips of the Elf kind, but angular, sharp shapes. If someone added horns and a tail, the being inside the oven would be a perfect devil.

  “Why is there an Archaedemon in my kitchen? Where did you put the racks?” It had only been one day and Kryvek already felt like a parent explaining to a son that just because something followed him home didn’t mean they could keep it.

  “I removed them so Krith would have room to grow. Once he reaches full size, though, I know not what we shall do.”

  “Let me ask this in Elvish, and slowly.” Kryvek switched languages. “Why is he here?”

  “He tracked me here, and he did not have the mass to return. He burned so much of himself in his effort to stay warm I could cradle him in one hand. What should we do?”

  Kryvek took another glance at Krith, then put one hand on each side of Edofine’s head and pulled it towards his face, so their noses almost touched and he could look directly into his eyes. A traditional Elf will never outright lie (though Kryvek had been forced to start in order to conceal his nature in the human world), but one held this way would find it painful to tell even an evasive truth. “Why did he follow you?”

  Edofine trembled, emotions all dissonance. “He is my, well, I must admit that, er, you see, a strange occurrence came to pass when I was hunting one day, and...”

  “To the point, please. This is my apartment at stake.”

  “We are friends.” Edofine wrenched himself away and dove onto the decrepit green couch, which creaked as he put pillows over his head. The admission embarrassed him so much he couldn’t stand to reveal his face to his elder.

  The only thing Kryvek could think to do was to stand and blink. “You think something’s wrong with me for living with humans.”

  “I know.”

  “I mean, humans don’t try to kill us, for the most part.”

  “I know.”

  “Humans don’t live underground in magma vents and blow flames at one another in contests and drink boiling whiskey and have open, depraved sexual orgies with great regularity—um, okay, maybe they do. Some of them. But they don’t, say, sanction the complete destruction of villages. They do it, but they don’t sanction it. You see the difference?”

  “You understand me not. Have you any idea how frightening, how hungry and aching the days were when I sought game in drought, knowing at any moment a Eudemon might attack and slit my throat? Have you slept with your sword at your side, buried headless or incinerated bodies month after month, or shivered in winter storms? No, no, no!”

  “I feel for you, but I don’t follow you. The bodies were incinerated because of the Archaedemons.”

  “Krith never did such things.”

  “How do you know?”

  “We know when people tell the truth, imbecile. Besides, in the snowy days I knew that if I could find him, he would provide fire, some conversation... He was shunned by other demons for his pacifist ways and his gentle nature, coupled with his severe dislike of any sort of labor. I told him work ethics are vital, but I never managed to convince him so.”

  “Come out of the pillows, Edofine. You look ridiculous.”

  Edofine obediently eme
rged, picking at his coat. “I was lonely. That is the only explanation I have to offer.”

  Kryvek sat down next to him. “Okay. I get now why you’re friends. Why did he risk hypothermia to find you?”

  “You ‘get’ it? Have I given something to you?”

  “I mean I understand. That’s a secondary meaning of ‘get’.”

  “Oh.” Edofine folded his arms and sighed. “I know not why he came. I would have asked, but alas, he is overcome with weariness.”

  The oven door opened an inch, and a drawling voice asked, “Got anything to eat round this joint?” Krith shivered from the heat escaping his small cave. His eyes glowed orange, dancing with fire surrounding two black coals. His skin had finally reached the healthy cooked lobster color, though he was still slightly pale for one of his species. “I wouldn’t mind a smoke, either, but I doubt you got any of those demon cigars with the high heat resistance.”

  “You are squatting in my kitchen without an invitation,” Kryvek said.

  “Sorry. They kicked me out.”

  “Who’s ‘they’?”

  “Everyone. All the other Archaedemons voted on it. I’m in exile.”

  Edofine and Kryvek both groaned. “Spirits,” Edofine murmured. “What did you do? Was it the debts?”

  “Kind of. I owe round about two hundred pounds of asbestos, six hundred rubies, and one and a half tons of gold. The rest was because I tried to make them not ruin your village. Thanks a lot, Ed.”

  “So you blame me for your aberrations? If your surface temperature were not of such heat to give me third-degree burns, I would strangle you at this very moment.”

  He smirked. “No you wouldn’t. You’re a softie.”

  “I suppose I must thank you for your peace-keeping efforts.” Edofine swung open the oven door so he could see his friend better.

  Krith gasped and burst into flame, rubbing his hands all over his bare chest. “You’re gonna make me shrink again!”

  “And this should worry me? We cannot have you grow to full size, for then we would have nowhere to put you.”

  “Why do we assume that Krith is going to remain in there at all?” Kryvek protested.

  The Archaedemon and the other Elf stared at him. “We could not leave him to die,” Edofine said.

  “Listen to the kid, mister.” Krith coughed and shivered. “You’re making me cold.”

  “Edofine is family, and his presence is acceptable. You are not related to me, and I have no guarantees that you won’t try to burn this place down, or kill me, or frighten the neighbors.”

  “I kind of did already,” Krith murmured.

  Kryvek decided to take some aspirin. “On Monday we will go to the OMHI. We will have them relocate Krith somewhere sufficiently warm, all right? I’m already in trouble with Mister Yale.”

  “Who is this Mister Yale?” Edofine asked.

  “I am.”

  Edofine slammed the oven closed—catching the tip of Krith’s left ear in the process—and stood in front of it at attention. Kryvek stiffened and plastered on an ingratiating smile. The two Elves stared at the newcomer. Mister Yale was the owner of Pleasant View Apartments, dressed in a hideous brown suit and lime green tie. He was in his forties with a bulging stomach to match, imperious and stern. He also had severe anxiety problems and Edofine could both hear his neurosis and see his hands twitch.

  “Who is this, Fletcher?” Mister Yale asked, pointing a thick finger with a cracked brown nail at Edofine.

  “My cousin, just visiting for a few weeks,” Kryvek replied. “Would you like to sit down? Have something to drink, maybe?”

  “I prefer to stand,” Mister Yale said.

  “Hello,” Edofine mumbled, waving.

  “Let me make this clear. The Youngs have another complaint. They said a lunatic in lady clothes broke down their door, burned spots in the floor, and cursed at them. They described this young man exactly.”

  “Excuse me, sir, but what I am wearing is not feminine in any way,” Edofine said.

  Mister Yale looked him up and down. “Looks pretty fruity to me.”

  “My cousin Edward does Live Action Role Play,” Kryvek lied.

  “Uh huh. Why are you standing in front of the oven?”

  Edofine tightened his grip on the bar behind him. “For the warmth.”

  “Instead of boiling oil during the medieval battles, they use water. He was soaked, and his backside still is.” Kryvek hated lying. He couldn’t think of any other way. Edofine disapproved every word, he knew.

  Mister Yale walked up to Kryvek, cornering him. “You may not understand this, but there are other people in this building, and they matter a great deal more to me than you do. You’ve been playing music at midnight, making all sorts of commotion at all hours, and must we revisit that time you knocked holes in the wall? If I see in any way that this Edward is anything other than a relative, or if I hear any more objections from the other residents, you are out of here.” He jabbed a fungus-covered fingertip into Kryvek’s chest.

  “Yes, sir. Anything you say, sir.”

  “Good. I am glad we had this little talk.” Mister Yale slammed the door behind him as he left.

  Kryvek slumped to the floor, his face in his hands. “Someday I’m going to fill that man’s body with arrows.”

  “I will assist. Why did he call me a fruit?” Edofine looked at his cloak and leggings. “Perhaps I should borrow some of your clothing. When did you make those nighttime noises?”

  “I was only trying to follow the rituals of the summer and winter solstice,” Kyrvek complained. “The holes in the wall were from me rehearsing opera solos for my voice training. I tutor teens, you see. I didn’t know opera was such potent magic. It took me days to get all the trees out. Now I have to exorcise all the spirits and create an anti-spell field before I can sing something from Aida! Christine wanted to know about basic sword fighting, so I showed her. It was for her job, for goodness’ sake. That man is the most culturally insensitive boor that I ever had to be subordinate to.”

  “Can you let me have my ear back?” Krith asked.

  “Oh. Forgive me,” Edofine replied, opening the oven so the eartip was no longer trapped.

  “How do we feed an Archaedemon?” Kryvek asked.

  “Burn something badly,” Krith said. “Char it to cinders.”

  “Let’s see what Lira did to her dinner; she always does that even without trying.” Kryvek stood up and patted Edofine on the back. “Don’t feel bad. It wasn’t your fault.”

  Edofine smiled slightly, though his eyes seemed permanently on the brink of tears. “Tell me, does Lira have a male in her life?”

  “If you could convince her to incinerate some chocolate-chip cookies, that’d be sweet,” Krith called after them.

  Chapter Six

  Dreamers and Schemers and Helpers

  “This is indeed rather awkward,” Lira observed, standing in Kryvek’s kitchen and looking at Krith.

  Krith, currently three feet tall, woke from his nap and opened the oven, leaning out to look at her. He whistled and said, “You know, hybrids are underrated these days.”

  Lira pursed her lips, pulled an unidentifiable mass of carbon out of the brown paper bag she was holding, and then dangled the burnt offering in front of his face. “So is food. Make any sort of catcall again, and I throw your dinner out the window.”

  “Sorry, ma’am. Whatever you say, ma’am,” mumbled the Archaedemon.

  Christine was sitting next to Kryvek on the couch, cozily nestled among the cushions. Kryvek felt exceedingly comfortable, since she was practically a cushion herself, though he wouldn’t tell Christine so because she was so high-strung about her weight.

  Ever the anthropologist, she said, “I think he’s fascinating, and we could learn a lot from him at the OMHI.”

  “Huh? What? Is someone going to dissect me? Ed, help!” Krith hyperventilated smoke, which made the sensitive Elf cough.

  Edofine hovered around the stove
and countertops, periodically inching near Lira, and then gasping and backing away whenever she looked at him. “You have been foolish enough in times past. Do not add to it.”

  “Somebody’s high-and-mighty,” sneered Krith. “Where do you keep your plates, Kryvek?” Lira asked.

  Edofine could barely breathe as he watched her dark, slim form unconsciously dance as she searched for the dishes.

  Kryvek pointed. “On the cupboard to your right. I only have five, so please don’t break one.”

  “They’re cheap plastic.” Lira poured her attempt at dinner for herself and Christine onto one plate, arranging it as tastefully as she could. She was mollified that at least someone could benefit from her cooking. Usually she had to throw it out and order pizza.

  “Oh, make fun of my poverty as a musician and teacher, will you?” Hearing Lira’s confidence fall, Kryvek quickly added, “I jest, I jest.”

  “I wish I could sense emotions,” Lira said, cool and composed, handing the plate to Krith, who had set his hand on fire.

  “Don’t melt my plate,” Kryvek said.

  Krith extinguished his hand. “Sorry. Could you turn the thermostat up or something?”

  Christine turned the knob on the wall, as she was sitting near it. “At least you can tell when people are lying, Lira. I wish I had that.”

  All were silent except for the sound of Krith chewing on ashes. Lira sat down on a folding chair, and Edofine sat next to her, making silly, uncertain smiles. He found it strange to interact with people who didn’t immediately know how he was feeling. No wonder humans were so messed up—everything they did was based on confusion and emotional deafness.

  Christine’s stomach hurt with hunger, and she wondered if she’d survive this low-fat low-sodium low-sugar wholegrain, vegetarian diet. Surely a cookie would do no harm. Kryvek made wonderful leaf-shaped energy biscuits from acorn flour. Why were Elves all toothpicks, anyway, even the ones with sedentary jobs? It wasn’t fair.

  There was a knock at the door, and Sara called out, “Edofine? Can I come in?”

  “The door isn’t locked,” Kryvek said.

  “How’s John?” Christine asked, as Sara sidled in and walked over to take a look at Krith.