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Inner Demons
This is the story of the angel,
Who played poker with the devil,
In the Garden of Eden,
Before it all went pear shaped.
They said:
"I'll see your heart,
And I'll raise you mine."
- Bell X1
The porch is cleaner than it was before they moved in. It holds no evidence that a man died there. Aubrey always thought special cleaners had to be hired for that sort of thing, but maybe because it was in plain view, they worked overnight. Even so, she goes around back and lets herself in through that door instead.
She changes into her own pants, keeping the shirt. Brews herself a cup of coffee. Sits down at the kitchen table. And reviews the past 48 hours in her head.
xxxxx
There were a lot of instances before Beca when Aubrey should have known. There was prom where she accepted the first guy who asked her then ditched him halfway through when a group of her friends found her and asked if she wanted to catch a late movie. Seven of her ex-boyfriends turned out to be gay. Seven of them. And she only ever had eight. The other one she married. There was how she never wanted to discuss who she was interested in at family reunions. How when all her friends were doodling the names of their crushes in their notebooks, she was the one actually paying attention in class.
Her parents alternated between compliments for being driven and concerned she would never find herself a man that way. God – how is she supposed to break this to her mom and dad? Did someone call Brad's parents or is she supposed to do that too? It never even crossed her mind; now she's going to have to tell them their son died hours ago.
There's a knock on the door, and it isn't Beca. She knows what Beca's knock sounds like. It could be the police. That's what convinces her to get up. It'll be a little difficult avoiding the front porch if her door gets kicked down. She pulls open the door, fully expecting a man in uniform, and definitely not Chloe. But there she is, arms crossed, with a look that's so pissed off it almost makes Aubrey admire her audacity.
"What are you doing here?" Chloe demands.
What is she doing here? "What are you doing here? You have the audacity to show up at my house after what you did?" How does Chloe even know where she lives?
"I helped you. And now you're over here when you should be over there with Beca."
"You know, I think I'd rather be alone right now." Aubrey shuts the door in her face then turns around, startled to see Chloe right in front of her.
"If it makes you feel better, he was considering it anyway. I just had a friend give him a little nudge."
"Don't you need permission to enter someone's home?"
"What do I look like – Dracula?" Chloe seems to consider it. "The fangs would be hot. I wonder how that would work; is it possible to be a crossbreed?" She walks casually through the living room and into the kitchen then takes a drink of Aubrey's cold, untouched coffee.
"Get out." Aubrey watches her dump out the mug and start brewing a new pot. "I know Latin."
"So you do know what I am."
"I thought a lot of things could be dispelled with Latin," Aubrey admits.
"I mean there are a few things, but… I'm not a ghost. I'm definitely not a poltergeist. There aren't a lot of other possibilities here. Think about it… What really hates Latin?"
Aubrey blanches. "You're a demon."
"Do you want to go get Starbucks?" Chloe asks, watching the coffee start to drip. "This is going to take forever." She leans against the counter and all but rolls her eyes at Aubrey's expression. "Oh, come on, I'm a demon, not a serial killer."
"I watched you kill two people." Aubrey places her hand on the back of a chair. "If I go next door, will you leave?"
"I'm sorry. I have a flair for the dramatics. But they both deserved it. I did you a favor both times."
"You murdered my husband."
"And how do you feel?"
"Traumatized," Aubrey answers.
"But you also feel relieved."
"No," Aubrey replies, "No, I don't."
Chloe's eyes turn blue and she responds with a knowing smile that makes Aubrey's stomach turn, because, okay, maybe she is feeling a little less stressed without him here.
"You know I had to watch it?" Aubrey asks, "Why couldn't you have made him do it somewhere else?"
"There it is." Chloe taps the glass pot. "Does it always take this long?"
"It's a coffee pot," Aubrey states.
"Look, I didn't know how or where it was going to happen. But the fact is, he's gone. He'll be in Hell for the next few thousand years – and with global warming, at that point, he might as well just stay down there. You don't have to worry about him anymore. Just go to the funeral to save face then forget him."
"That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. I don't know how demons feel, but human feelings are more complicated than that."
"I have plenty of emotions. Seven, to be exact. And, right now, the most prominent one is gluttonous." Chloe flings open the cupboard above the coffee pot and stands on her tiptoes to root around. "Don't you have anything good in here? What is this? Seaweed?"
Not at all convinced that Chloe isn't going to explode her head but giving into that there's nothing she can do about it, Aubrey sinks down into the chair.
Chloe slides the bag of seaweed chips toward her with one finger. "You're really upset, aren't you?" she says when Aubrey pulls the bag closer and starts to sniffle while playing with the bag clip.
"What gave it away?"
"Fuck. Let me make it up to you?"
Aubrey laughs. "I think you've done enough. If you want to make it up to me, leave and never come back."
"I think that's a little harsh. I'm going to make you dinner."
This isn't happening.
"You're scared of me," Chloe points out.
Aubrey is totally not terrified of sharing the same room with someone who could explode her head just by snapping her fingers. Her insides aren't clenched. She's not trying to focus on taking slow, even breaths. And she's definitely not regretting leaving her phone at Beca's. It's not like anyone could help her anyway – except for maybe a priest.
"I'm not going to kill you. I want to help you."
"I don't need help." Aubrey is doing worse now that Chloe is here than she was doing at trying to sort her life out on her own. "I don't want your help."
Chloe makes a humming noise and evaporates then reappears next to the refrigerator.
If Aubrey did have her phone, she'd be searching 'sudden onset schizophrenia' with it.
"Either way, you have to eat. Should I make casserole? That's like the traditional someone you shared your home with died food, right?"
"See if you can find some empathy in there," Aubrey mumbles while Chloe digs around in her refrigerator and freezer.
"I found this." Chloe lifts up a box of frozen waffles. "Mm. Chocolate chip. Chocolate is close enough to empathy, right?"
It's probably futile to point out waffles are a breakfast food. Chocolate is one of the only foods that seems even remotely appetizing right now though. "How do you do that?" she asks as the oven lights with a finger snap.
"The real question here is who doesn't own a toaster?"
"People who don't like toast."
"Are you always this serious?" Chloe asks.
Aubrey doesn't answer.
"So this is what you're going to do? You're just going to sit here and isolate yourself?"
No. Aubrey is going to wake up at 6am and go to work just like she does every Monday and then she's continue to sit here alone until Tuesday.
"It's like walking or waving your hands," Chloe says, "I can just do it."
"And what if you accidentally do it?" Aubrey asks.
"Do you accidentally walk or wave your hands? I'd show you, but you'd probably freak out."
"I'm already freaked out."
"This would make it worse."
Aubrey watches her walk around and make waffles like this is her house too. "So if you really are a demon that means you came from being trapped in Hell with Satan or whatever, right?"
Chloe turns her head, but with her eyes the way they are, it's impossible to tell exactly where she's looking.
"Why would a demon be trying to help someone? Don't you all just lie and drag people down with you?"
"Hell isn't the eternal place people think it is," Chloe explains. She pours them both a mug of coffee then sits down across from her. "I'm out on probation."
"You're on probation from Hell? Do you have a probation officer I can speak with?" Aubrey gets up to get herself some cream and sugar. God knows why, she brings some for Chloe too.
"Hell is like prison. You do something that lands you there and from there you're sentenced a term – and, I mean, it could be eternal depending on what you did but – but that's like child killers and Trump supporters."
Aubrey covers a laugh with a cough then glares in her direction.
"Anyway – then you get out on a hundred years probation and if you do a good enough deed, you earn your soul back. If not, you either go back down there or you get stuck making deals for eternity."
"So, I'm a charity case." Aubrey gets it now. "What you said about liking me was just you manipulating me for your own benefit." That actually makes a lot of sense when Aubrey takes into consideration that she's a fucking demon.
"I wasn't lying about that."
"So how many people actually get out of Hell for good?" Aubrey asks. By the look on Chloe's face, it isn't many. "How many years have you been trying?"
"998," Chloe answers.
"Have you thought maybe killing people is the problem?"
"No one is judging me for populating Hell with awful people," Chloe says with an eyeroll, "That's just business." The oven timer goes off and she stands up to retrieve the waffles. "Maybe instead of me helping you, you could help me. We could help each other."
"Why would I do that?"
"Because Beca's boyfriend is making a move and you're wallowing in self-pity," Chloe answers, moving the curtain next to the stove to peer out the window.
Aubrey is going ignore that last part. "That's not Beca's boyfriend."
"Does he know that?"
"Chloe. Listen to me, okay? You cannot kill Jesse. If you're going to meddle and I have no choice but to accept, you cannot hurt or kill anyone else. Make it a deal."
"What does that really mean?" Chloe asks, closing the curtain and putting their waffles on plates.
"What do you mean what does it mean? It means don't hurt or kill anyone." It's not exactly vague.
"Okay, but, hear me out – what if we're together and someone tries to mug you with a knife? I could easily get the guy off you, but I have to just stand there and watch."
"That implies we're hanging out somewhere together, which isn't going to happen," Aubrey states, "And I could take him without your help, thank you. You might actually learn something while watching."
"You're gonna take down a mugger with a knife?"
Aubrey leans back, mug of coffee in hand, and nods.
"Okay." Chloe turns back around and goes through some kitchen drawers. She holds up a frosting spreader. "Prove it. Fight me."
Aubrey scoffs. "Fight a demon?"
"I'll play fair. No finger snapping or super human strength. Unless you think you're going to lose either way…"
Aubrey Posen never loses. "I don't want to hurt you."
"You can't hurt a demon. I barely even feel pain. Let's just set some boundaries on who I can and can't kill."
"Okay," Aubrey concedes, "I'll fight you. But you have to use normal human strength and if I win, you can't hurt or kill anyone at all during the rest of your time on probation. And you can't actually stab me with that thing." She isn't exactly sure what kind of harm an icing spreader can do, but she does know she isn't about to explain being impaled by one to Beca and some ER staff.
"Deal."
Yeah, Aubrey wasn't actually expecting her to agree and her immediate confidence in the matter has her second guessing herself. A Posen never backs down. She slowly slides her coffee back across the table and stands up. "There's more space in the living room." Her father always says fighting is a lot like playing Chess. It's all about the strategy and knowing your opponents next move so you already have the counter move set up. So when Chloe tries to ambush her on the way to the living room, Aubrey is already ready, grabbing her by the arm and spinning her so the weapon is pressed up against her own neck. "Drop it."
The spreader bounces off the edge of the carpet and clatters on the kitchen floor.
"You never thought about putting your husband in his place?" Chloe asks. She breaks from Aubrey's hold and goes for her neck.
You can't hurt a demon, Chloe told her, she barely even feels pain. Aubrey uses that as a good excuse to grab her arm, turn around, and flip her straight over her shoulder. Chloe grunts as she hits the ground on her back, and Aubrey climbs on top of her before the shock can completely wear off. She pins her down, wrists near her head, legs flat on the floor, and blows a strand of hair away from her face. "Do we have a deal?"
Chloe blinks her eyes back to their normal human color and stares up at her. "That was hot. We should do that again sometime."
"Do we have a deal?" Aubrey repeats.
"You know we didn't kiss on the last one - you know, the agreement to actually make it a deal?" Chloe points out.
"What?" Aubrey breathes and sits up, still straddling her lap.
"Don't worry. I'll still honor it. But this one gets sealed – if only because I can't let a pretty girl on top of me strictly for violence." Chloe props herself up on her elbows. "Note the 'strictly' part."
"Noted," Aubrey deadpans.
"So? What are you waiting for?"
Honestly, Aubrey is having a difficult time catching her breath. It doesn't help that her throat is so dry she can barely swallow. "How do I know this is actually how you make a deal or if you just want to kiss me?"
"What if it's both?"
"Are you hitting on me?"
"Oh my god, no wonder you're having such a hard time in the relationship department. Yes, I'm hitting on you."
"How does that help me?"
Chloe squints her eyes and tilts her head. "Consider it practice," she answers nonchalantly, "Seriously though, if you want to keep the deal, that's how it's done with everyone. You can imagine why I get excited when it's with someone this body actually holds some interest in. Also, breakfast is getting cold and you can't deny I'm hot."
"I don't know what you actually look like."
"Semantics."
Only because this is the only way Aubrey can assure the safety of everyone around her, she leans forward and presses their lips together for a second time. She inhales sharply through her nose as Chloe's hands come to rest on her thighs, making their position a lot more compromising than it already was. "There," she whispers and climbs off of her. She runs her fingers through her hair, looking one way before walking in other direction.
"Okay, so here's what we're going to do," Chloe says, appearing in the kitchen, nearly giving Aubrey a heart attack, "First, we're going to eat breakfast which is technically dinner, obviously. Then you're going to go next door and ask her if she wants to watch a movie."
"She hates movies."
"That's even better."
"And Jesse is there. And she has work later."
"Trust me, she'll drop all those things."
"Isn't that a little bit needy?" Aubrey asks.
"Your husband just died; you are needy." Chloe places her hands on Aubrey's back and pushes her back over to the table. "She's not going to know you know Jesse is there." Hands on her shoulders, she pushes Aubrey back down onto the chair.
"His car is outside."
"Play dumb."
"Then she's really going to think something's wrong."
"Something is wrong. Use it to your advantage."
"You know, I don't think someone who went Hell is the best person to be taking advice from."
"I went to Hell because I made a deal, not because I did something terrible."
Aubrey slices through her waffle with the side of a fork then looks up at Chloe with a deeper frown when she pours maple syrup over it.
"What? You can't eat it like that." She dumps half the bottle onto her own waffle then flops down on her chair. "I'm just trying to help."
"You've said that. Many times now. And I've also declined. Many times." Aubrey forces herself to eat despite the uneasiness in her stomach.
"And we've already established I'm going to meddle anyway."
"Can't you just feed some starving children or build houses for the homeless or something?" Aubrey asks.
"You don't think I haven't tried that? I'm a modern day Mother Teresa at this point. Nothing has worked."
Aubrey chews slowly as she tries to think. "Pushed someone out of the way of a moving vehicle?"
"Done it."
"Saved a cat from a tree? I don't know…" Aubrey shrugs. "How do you know you haven't earned your soul back and now you're just waiting for your probation to be up?"
"No one else has ever asked me this many questions. Most people just have blind faith that whatever I say is true at this point."
"That's actually a little concerning."
"Okay." Chloe holds up her arm, elbow in the table. "You see this bracelet?" She points to the beads that spell her name.
Well, she's not blind. Aubrey nods.
"Watch." Chloe draws in a deep breath then waves her hand over it changing it from a childish bracelet into black, leather with what can best be described as a gem in the center. "When you get your soul back, you can see it and that's how you know you can go retrieve it. But mine is black; it's void. I can't even take it off to try to trade it in."
Oh. Aubrey stares into the swirling colors – every color of the rainbow overlapping each other while still being hyper-visible. It's the furthest thing from void. "So other people can see it, but you can't?"
"I don't know. I've never shown it to anybody else. Wait, do you see something?" Chloe sits up straight. "What do you see?"
Aubrey reaches forward and brushes the tips over her fingers over top the smooth surface. It's scalding to the touch and when she pulls back, there are first degree burns on her skin. "Nothing," she lies and curls her fingers in toward her palm.
"Great, now I burned you." Chloe turns the gem back to beads as Aubrey examines her fingers.
"It's not that bad." Aubrey stands up to run them under cold sink water. There is a chill running from her shoulder down through her hand and the muscles in that arm begin to ache with growing intensity. "Has anyone ever touched that thing before?"
"It's just told you – I've never showed it to anyone. No one has ever been interested."
"In 998 years, no one has ever been curious about what they were dealing with?"
"I've never been this persistent with one person."
"Lucky me." Aubrey shuts off the water. Her fingers are no longer red, but the chills and pain still remain.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah." She braces herself on the counter and a few seconds later, she's feeling normal again. "This is just a lot to take in…and believe." From where she's standing, she can see Jesse's car parked out front. He's been over there too long. Although any amount of time he spends with Beca feels like too long.
"You could just tell her how you feel."
Yeah, that sounds like a great idea. I think I might be in love with you – oh, also, that's part of the reason my husband killed himself last night. "Finish your waffle so we can draw whatever this is to a close."
"A temporary close."
"Whatever." Aubrey shoves herself away from the counter and drops back down to devour the rest of her food as fast as she politely can.
"This is going to be a great partnership," Chloe comments, "I can feel it already."
Aubrey stabs her fork straight down into the waffle. The only thing she feels is crazy.
"Me helping you, you helping me," Chloe continues on, "I think we're going to be seeing a lot of each other."
"Or I could buy an Ouija Board and we could keep in touch that way," Aubrey offers.
"I don't really do long distance relationships."
"It's a good thing we're not in a relationship then," Aubrey points out. But when she looks up, awaiting the next rebuttal, Chloe is gone – and so is her coffee and waffle (thief). It's like she was never there.