Author Note: This is just a little, terribly written thing I thought of and
never jotted down while reading Demon in My View for the firs time. How
would Jessica react, post-bite, to the self righteous annoyances she had
scorned while she was mortal? I found no Demon in My View category, so this
seemed appropriate. I suggestively bash religion in this fic, so if you are
offended, please don't bother reading it. It's my opinion, expressed
through a romp in Amelia Atwater-Rhodes' world. And if you have a distaste
for faith, as I do, enjoy! A make a note not to be rude, so flares will be
deleted.
Disclaimer: I do not own characters in DEMON IN MY VIEW. They belong to
Miss Atwater-Rhodes, whom I assume would not approve of my tasteless
butchery of her fine work.
It was that same quiet resentment that I'd come to endure over the years. For the longest time the silent pauses and polite retreats bothered me. I felt somehow tainted and unworthy. But after enough weathering even the most irritating examples of their unprovoked hatred failed to cause a rift in me. Instead, I turned it against them. Now that I knew who I was, whom I loved and what I wanted nothing kept me from unleashing their hatred back at them in the form of bitter sarcasm and venomous smiles.
Aubrey would laugh and shake his head. "You can make them love you. You can be their goddess."
A goddess? Impossible... He is right, of course. I could press their minds and lead them to believe that I was grace on this earth. I could mold their thoughts and persuade them to inch closer. But that made everything so much less interesting.
As the woman at my doorstep mentioned 'redemption' I was drawn back to reality. How exactly had an overzealous missionary wandered into New Mayhem without an escort, undetected? And exactly how long did she intend on keeping her blood as long as she preached her words here?
Vague amusement crossed my face. She frowned in return.
"Young lady, do you have any idea who Jesus Christ is?"
"I've heard stories." I muttered, peering over her head at the dismal street. When someone called to my attention that there was a determined- looking human wandering the 'city' I paid no mind. When he further detailed that she was a missionary and heading straight for the doors of Las Noches, my home, I nearly choked.
"Well stories are-"
"Ma'am, I'm afraid if you don't leave rather soon, you'll meet Jesus a bit earlier than you intended..." I suggested.
She grabbed at her chest and gasped dramatically. "EXCUSE ME! Is that a threat?"
"No. It's a warning. Please leave." My temper was mild. Ignorance must be dealt with properly, but her refusal to budge only proved to infuriated me.
"I don't know what sort of neighborhood this is but-"
If I heard the rest of her argument then I clearly wasn't paying attention because I recall none of it. Her wrinkled pink lips were outlined in a violet-red the sad shade of aging bruises. She bore a "Jesus IS the Light" sweatshirt with matching pants. Beside her appearance her brassy way of strutting her beliefs and self-righteousness was becoming overwhelming. Any longer and I might have betrayed my cool sardonic tone and completely lost control.
So in rebuttal I did exactly what Aubrey had said was foolish. I let down my vampiric air. I pulled down the exquisite facade, the gingerbread house that concealed a boiling pot waiting to be used. She saw ME. The same identity that I had, unknowingly, walked around with most of my life: a naked form of my essence that sent chills into the minds of mortals.
I saw her eyes dilate. I felt her heart flutter. A greyness crept through her skin and she handed me a paper pamphlet that I lazily grasped between by fore and middle fingers.
"Good Day." She nodded, shuffling off. I saluted her mockingly and opened the pamphlet with a morbid curiosity that bordered on being ridiculous.
'Petition to Remove Paganism from Our Home! Massachusetts has been haunted by witches and demons for too long now! Let us return to the light the Puritans sought so many years ago!
MFM: Mothers for Morality, Mass.C.S: the Massachusetts Christian Society
and the AoG: Army of God urge you to help in the effort! Bring Jesus back to our towns!' It went on, but I'd had my fill of stupidity for the day. Some people need faith to keep them going. I do not. Some people need a book to guide them. I do not. Some people are weak. I am not. There is a thin line that separates us from the demons and shadows. At any time we may cross this line without knowing we're there. But there is, nonetheless a distinction. I do not consider myself evil or a monster. Shades of grey. All shades of grey. I grinned mischievously, letting the paper flutter to the dirt where it would be thoroughly trampled by drunken masses later in the day. Satisfied with myself I went inside.
It was that same quiet resentment that I'd come to endure over the years. For the longest time the silent pauses and polite retreats bothered me. I felt somehow tainted and unworthy. But after enough weathering even the most irritating examples of their unprovoked hatred failed to cause a rift in me. Instead, I turned it against them. Now that I knew who I was, whom I loved and what I wanted nothing kept me from unleashing their hatred back at them in the form of bitter sarcasm and venomous smiles.
Aubrey would laugh and shake his head. "You can make them love you. You can be their goddess."
A goddess? Impossible... He is right, of course. I could press their minds and lead them to believe that I was grace on this earth. I could mold their thoughts and persuade them to inch closer. But that made everything so much less interesting.
As the woman at my doorstep mentioned 'redemption' I was drawn back to reality. How exactly had an overzealous missionary wandered into New Mayhem without an escort, undetected? And exactly how long did she intend on keeping her blood as long as she preached her words here?
Vague amusement crossed my face. She frowned in return.
"Young lady, do you have any idea who Jesus Christ is?"
"I've heard stories." I muttered, peering over her head at the dismal street. When someone called to my attention that there was a determined- looking human wandering the 'city' I paid no mind. When he further detailed that she was a missionary and heading straight for the doors of Las Noches, my home, I nearly choked.
"Well stories are-"
"Ma'am, I'm afraid if you don't leave rather soon, you'll meet Jesus a bit earlier than you intended..." I suggested.
She grabbed at her chest and gasped dramatically. "EXCUSE ME! Is that a threat?"
"No. It's a warning. Please leave." My temper was mild. Ignorance must be dealt with properly, but her refusal to budge only proved to infuriated me.
"I don't know what sort of neighborhood this is but-"
If I heard the rest of her argument then I clearly wasn't paying attention because I recall none of it. Her wrinkled pink lips were outlined in a violet-red the sad shade of aging bruises. She bore a "Jesus IS the Light" sweatshirt with matching pants. Beside her appearance her brassy way of strutting her beliefs and self-righteousness was becoming overwhelming. Any longer and I might have betrayed my cool sardonic tone and completely lost control.
So in rebuttal I did exactly what Aubrey had said was foolish. I let down my vampiric air. I pulled down the exquisite facade, the gingerbread house that concealed a boiling pot waiting to be used. She saw ME. The same identity that I had, unknowingly, walked around with most of my life: a naked form of my essence that sent chills into the minds of mortals.
I saw her eyes dilate. I felt her heart flutter. A greyness crept through her skin and she handed me a paper pamphlet that I lazily grasped between by fore and middle fingers.
"Good Day." She nodded, shuffling off. I saluted her mockingly and opened the pamphlet with a morbid curiosity that bordered on being ridiculous.
'Petition to Remove Paganism from Our Home! Massachusetts has been haunted by witches and demons for too long now! Let us return to the light the Puritans sought so many years ago!
MFM: Mothers for Morality, Mass.C.S: the Massachusetts Christian Society
and the AoG: Army of God urge you to help in the effort! Bring Jesus back to our towns!' It went on, but I'd had my fill of stupidity for the day. Some people need faith to keep them going. I do not. Some people need a book to guide them. I do not. Some people are weak. I am not. There is a thin line that separates us from the demons and shadows. At any time we may cross this line without knowing we're there. But there is, nonetheless a distinction. I do not consider myself evil or a monster. Shades of grey. All shades of grey. I grinned mischievously, letting the paper flutter to the dirt where it would be thoroughly trampled by drunken masses later in the day. Satisfied with myself I went inside.