Chapter 2

Rachel

Al shows up right when the sun goes down. I want to explain to him, yet again, to stop showing up just because I'm taking too long, but he never listens.

"How's the daughter?" he asks. He's changed a lot in the past fifteen years. Trying to keep up with the century. I think we might have rubbed off on him a bit, with are choice words and ideas.

"She's not hear," I state. She doesn't need to be exposed to his morbid ideals.

"Is she not, now." He runs his gloved hand over my counter top. "How old is she now?"

"Fifteen, sixteen in November."

"Oh, yes, she's growing up so fast," he says as if remeniscing.

"Shall we go?" I ask, mocking his English ancient tightly.

He's about to reply, when there's the sound of a door slamming.

"Well, looks like your daughter's home. She sounds upset."

She does, I've never heard her slam her door before. Al's presence makes me uneasy, but if my daughter is upset, I need to go see why. So I make my way to toward her room.

I hear crying on the other side of her door. "Lear, are you alright?"

She doesn't respond. I try the knob. "Lear, let me in," I insist, "What's wrong sweetie?"

"I...I told him," she stammers, over come with tears.

"What are you saying, sweetie, you mean Less?"

"Y...yeah," she sniffles, "and he rejected me!"

"Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry, open the door."

It takes her a moment, her face is down cast, her eyes puffy, her chest contracting with sobs. "Mom," she cries, looking up at me, her eyes brown from her earring, "I'm so tired of this! I hate hidding what I am!"

I pause, she's never said anything about this before. She finally sees Al, and seems embarrassed by her crying, but just for a second, her anger quickly returns.

"It's not my fault people won't accept the fact that I can be both a demon and a good person! I'm just tired of everything! Even some humans don't accept Inderlanders, how are they going to accept me?! A species even Inderlander's distrust and avoid!"

"Sweetie, it's not so bad."

"How would you know?! You aren't like me, you're parents were witches! You just have the blood! You can't possibly understand!"

"She's right, dove," Al agrees.

I glare at him, letting him know he's not helping.

"I just..," my daughter continues, "Don't want to hide anymore," she cries.

It was far earier to take her anger than her sadness.

Learimarkless

I don't like to cry, especially in front of my mom, who I have never seen weep without the greatest of reasons. She's so strong, it's almost discouraging, but it feels wonderful to get this off my chest. This has been bothering me for a long time.

I always thought that she could understand, because she had been treated poorly by the media for being a black witch, but that's nothing compared to me. Nobody knows she's been tampered with, nobody knows she's a demon when it counts, but I am.

We're completely different. She can't understand, and that isn't her fault, but I need someone who can see what I see, who knows how I feel.

My gaze falls on Al. He's a demon. He has been his whole life, however many hundreds or thousands of years that's been.

His eyes find mine, their red gleaming under the flouresant church lights. They're just like mine, the color of blood, and slitted. I'm suddendly ashamed of having mine hidden, like I'm cowering behind a curtain.

"Mom." I look her straight in the eye. "I can't do this anymore." I take out my earring, fumbling with it and feeling the faint sting as it comes out. I put it in my pocket, feeling suddenly free, clean, and powerful.

"I... I don't know how to help you." My mother, for once, looks unsure. She still looks so young, but as a witch and/or demon, she will live for many more years. To infinty.

"And you don't need to, just listen. I know you don't like the demon's. You don't count yourself as one, which is fine, but you also don't count me. You're always telling me I'm not like them, but I am like them, and that's okay. I'm proad of what I am, even if it will hold me back.

"I don't want to stay here, where people think what I am defines me. I'm not asking for much, just some time on the field. Let me spend a little time amoungst the people who can understand me."

Rachel

I know what she means the moment I hear the tone of her voice. She wants to stay with the demons.

"Lear," I try to object, but I see her eyes. Her demonic eyes, filling with tears. They make me think back to that day. When I'd ran from the demons, clutching her to my chest. I remember the way she'd smiled right before Al had appeared.

I don't want her to go, I don't want her to get hurt, but I can't say no when looking in her eyes.

"Okay," I whisper, "lets just talk about this."

Learimarkless

We sit down, and we talk it out. I'll go with her today, then when we get back I'm going to pack up clothes, and spend a week in the ever-after.

I'll be going to school everyday, but I'll go right back to the ever-after afterwards, and I'm not to tell anyone else that I'm a demon or remove my earring while in public.

I easily agreed to this, because she's taking a big step by just letting me into the ever-after.

She doesn't want me to spend any more time with Al than necessary, so I'm going to purchase my own place in the ever-after. That had been an interesting conversation.

"But I don't want you staying a week with Al," my mother had said.

"Okay, fair enough, but Newt is no better."

"Why, don't you just get a place of your own?" Al had asked from the doorway, after coming back from sorting throught the fridge. "I'm sure nobody will ever ask you to pay."

There are conditions to my stay. I have to call her by scrying mirror everyday, and if I'm going to go anywhere where there will be other demons I'm supposed to go with Al.

"I don't want you around everyone alone," she had told me.

"Don't worry, I'll go with her," Al had smiled.

"I don't see how that makes it any better," my mother had remarked, "But I guess I'll hear about it sooner if your there."