CHAPTER 26 - "LOVEBIRDS"

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months and even into the following year when Spring rolled along in the year AD1667, Damascus found himself still in the stages of a long drawn out healing. Without his souls that Decco had taken from him, his healing was very slow, much like a human's, especially with his severe injuries that would have killed a human very quickly.

But he found himself helping Kassandra, and Bryan, in London's effort to rebuild itself and it was of itself therapeutic. Kassandra particularly took interest in orphaned children who had been displaced, and with William's new wealth, a new orphanage was being built for them with state of the art facilities. The entire city of London as a community tore down old buildings and began to erect new, more sturdier ones, that were better resistant to fires. Even plans to rebuild Saint Paul's Cathedral's were discussed.

Over the last year, he found himself being more at Kassandra's side. But he had suspicions of a being still looming about the family. He not necessarily suspected Bryan any longer, but there was still something different about him that Damascus could not explain.

The power he had first sensed had faded to a small spec now. It meant that this being was becoming more acute in hiding his power. However, he sensed no malicious intent by this power. And perhaps he was wrong about Bryan. If Bryan was hiding something, he would have known Damascus sensed it and attacked him by now to keep his secret, but the young manservant was always kind to him.

But there was something…

Despite Kassandra saying that she and her father had plans to live with her brother only temporarily, it appeared her new home was with him and his wife, and her father was very happy about that, too. And even after Damascus's wounds had healed, they wanted him to continue to remain with the family. He was very thankful for their hospitality and accepted, if only to continue to be with Kassandra, and to further advance the very close relationship they shared.

Damascus didn't think it was possible, but over the past year he had fallen in love with Kassandra, and she felt the same way about him. But neither expressed it openly. And after a year of taking care of him, helping him to walk again because he could not put pressure on his feet because of his wounds, his muscles atrophied with so much time spent in the wheel chair, it was like destiny had brought them together.

But, with each passing day, his hunger rose, and he continued to dwell deeper into his well of souls, drawing out what little energy that was there to keep his demon urges at bay.

But it was like pain. If you are distracted enough, you forget about it. And with Kassandra, a different sort of hungry also rose inside him. It was a human hunger and it directed towards her.

His human carnal desires sometimes eclipsed his demon ones and he found himself lusting for her as a human does another. But he was a gentleman and he knew the proper way to act in public. They spent a great deal of time together helping others in the city of London, they were thanked highly by the mayor for their efforts. So they never actually got any alone time, until now.

Kassandra had wanted to go back to her own Boarding House for a visit, to see how things were going, but when they got there, they found that the building had been boarded up and abandoned. Nevertheless, they had come all this way, and he was not going to let her go home empty-handed. So he pulled at one of the nailed boards from the front entrance and ripped it off, using his muscular upper body strength that he had developed in having to use his arms to move around in a wheel-chair all those months. After he was able to walk again, he began to train his body to use all his muscles equally and properly again.

He set aside the board, then pulled a second one off. The street was nearly abandoned, so no one was going to accuse them of trespassing. Besides, all they wanted was to have a look inside. Damascus hoped - although it didn't look like it - that there were no squatters inside. But if there were and they were aggressive of their homestead, he would protect Kassandra. Simple.

"What a big, strong man," she teased.

He smiled, then gestured at the opening. "After you, my lovely lady."

She blushed, and then passed him into its dark housing. Damascus followed, striking a long thin, wooden wick, illuminating the way. With all the windows boarded up, it was indeed a dark and spooky place, and their shadows danced on the walls like demons. Damascus was amused by this imaginary, but he didn't make mention of it to Kassandra. She looked a little scared to be in here, but this had been her home for more years than she could vividly recall. Her father lived here and raised both her and William. When William was old enough, and subsequently had a major argument with his father, he moved out. Kassandra then became a maid, and her father a cleaner for the Boarding House as payment for their room and board and meals. Before the fire, rumors had it that it was one of the best and up-kept Boarding Houses. Now, by the look of things, perhaps it would have been better if the fire had destroyed it.

They made their way up the main staircase, Damascus following Kassandra's lead, as she knew her way around. "I feel a little guilty for leaving Mr. Ryan, the landlord," she said. "This was such a lovely place."

"It was for the best, Kassy," he said. He had taken to calling her Kassy, which at one point only her father did. But she obviously didn't mind him using it. "You are safer, and…we found each other."

She stopped, turned, and gave him a sweet smile. They were stopped on a landing, and as they were alone, he gently touched her cheek and then leaned in to kiss her. Although, they had not shown affection for one another in front of her family - it was not proper - it was obvious to them all, that they were together. William's wife, Beautieuse, had apparently figured out something was going on during Damascus's first week he spent with the family, injured. He was indeed attracted to Kassy, very attracted to her.

Kassy pulled back, and he was surprised by this. They had kissed many times before, and he wondered why she relented this time. Was he being too forward? It was said scary places sometimes increased a woman's sexual drive and stirred chemicals in the human brain to make them more subversive. But to take advantage of her here was not his intention. The moment had just struck him and he wanted to taste her soft, sensual lips in the glow of this low wicker light.

She smiled, and they kissed. She had only been teasing him.

Continuing up the staircase, they reached her room on the third floor. The room was cleared of most of the furniture, although some remained. Had the landlord attempted to rent out the room after Kassy and her father had left, Damascus wondered. The wick was coming to the end of its life, so he struck another one. He had brought several with them, but only enough for a maybe a few minutes.

Suddenly, something jumped out at them and landed on the floor. It hissed at them. It was a feral cat, grey in color, it's eyes glowering, reacting to the wicker light. But then it approached them friendly-like, and Damascus crouched down to pet it.

"Be careful, Damascus," Kassy said. "It could hold diseases."

But it didn't seem afraid of human interaction at all, curling it's body around Damascus, even purring as he began to scratch behind its ear. "Cats are such lovely creatures," he said affectionately. "If you are unafraid of them, they are unafraid of you." And suddenly he found himself completely obsessed with this cat as if the world around him meant nothing and all there was was he and this feline. "Such a good cat…so supple, so cute, such beautiful, breezy fur…"

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and then Kassy said, "Um, Damascus…are you all right?"

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"You just met this cat, but you are reacting to it as if you have known it all its life, and very affectionately, I may add." She had a quire look on her face.

Her words struck true, and he blinked, and forced himself out his reverie, standing up.

He felt embarrassed. He found he got this way whenever he was near cats. They say cats are a demon's pet, but this wasn't why he liked them so much. And yet, he couldn't even define why he found himself obsessing over them sometimes. It was like some sort of hidden addiction.

He cleared his throat. The cat meowed for more affection from him, weaving in and out between his legs, nudging them and rubbing itself against his pant legs like an animal would do to mark its territory or showing deep affection for an owner.

He put an abashed hand to his face. "I am so sorry, I don't know what came over me," he said.

"It is all right," she said, looking at him. "We are all weird in some way or fashion." He looked at her through the fingers of his hands, and she nodded. "Although I wish you would give me as much affection as you did that cat just now."

He dropped his hand and a wide smile broached his face. He stepped in, pulled her close to him, their bodies pressed together, and said, "Such a good Kassy. So supple, so cute, such beautiful, breezy fur…"

And she gave a soft chuckle.

She then laid her head against his chest. "I can hear your heart beat, it's very fast."

"That is because I am with you," he said gently, softly cupping her chin and bringing her face up to his. Her green eyes aglow in the wicker light. "And I have recently become filled with a hunger beyond the normal, and I have finally found a person I have fallen head-over-heels in love with after so much time alone."

"You do not have to be alone any longer, Damascus. I will be with you."

And they kissed.

"Well, aint this such a purdy sight," said a gruff sounding voice.

"Yeah, a couple of love birds in a nest, they are," said a second, younger voice.

Damascus and Kassy immediately turned to the voices and saw at a heavy set man in his late forties with a few days of beard growth, with a younger, thinner man wearing a dark rimless toque standing next to him at the threshold of the room. In the older man's hand was a long but thin piece of wood with the handle wrapped with a dark, worn tape, but also holstered on his hip was what looked like a sizable dagger. The thin man held nothing, but Damascus knew the man would have a weapon on his person somewhere. He was, however, smiling scandalously at Kassandra, eying her up and down.

Damascus immediately stood between them and Kassandra, taking a step back and pushing Kassy back. He wasn't afraid of them, but for Kassy's sake, he had to play the part.

"Aint he tryin to be the good, chivalrous knight," said the older man.

"I haven't had a rubdown in months."

"Me; it's been years. Not since a few years into the Russo war."

"If you weren't so burly, you would," the younger man joked, then pulled out a small blade from a pocket. "They invaded our sanctum 'ere, they owe us; this place has been ours ever since the landlord left and boarded up the place. Lets say we kill this hero and take her. Her mouth looks delicious."

"You think you can take'm?"

"I know I can."

The man lunged hard with his blade and Damascus fell into a defensive posture, reaching out and suddenly slapping the man's hand with both of his, quickly disarming him. The impact of the attack had forced the sharp pressure against the outer and inner parts of the man's hand to release the weapon. He had learned the technique when he had resided on the island of Japan for several months, training with a master in Jiujutsu. In fact, it was a very basic skill. So simplistic to disarm an opponent in close combat.

And by the look of shock on the man's face, Damascus knew he had caught the man off-guard. He probably never expected such a thing form a gentleman. He lightly pushed Kassandra back a few steps, and then delivered a spinning, roundhouse kick to the man, dropping him to the ground in a heap.

The older man then dropped his stick and unsheathed his dagger, and came after him with more precise, trained strikes. Damascus bobbed and weaved, but with a lucky, swift slice through the air, the man managed to cut the front of Damascus's shirt, drawing a little blood. He saw a course of crimson on his palm where he felt the place on his stomach the man had cut.

The man's skill was unexpected.

"Think I didn't have any skills? I fought in the thirteen year war, you see. I was a hired mercenary for the Russians and fought against the Cossacks, slaughtering hundreds."

Damascus recalled this recently ended war.

Before he was ordered by Morning Star to follow Decco, he had wandered the world, speaking with many people - and one topic on a lot of people's lips was the Russo-Polish War that started in 1654 in Russia, where a major uprising in power by a group of militants calling themselves the Cossacks formed a coalition with Russia, where a unification of power was to be ratified, but later betrayal by the Tsardom of Russia forced the Cossacks's leader, a person named Bohdan Khmelnvtsky, to declare of war against Russia, for which, due to economical strife in later years, forced the Cossacks's eventual loss, but giving way to the Polish-Lithuaniun Commonwealth, despite a decisive Russian victory earlier in the year, 1667.

Most of the thirteen year war was fought with horses and swords. Rumors also had it plagued by political backstabbing and money exchange, which would account for hired mercenaries getting involved. However, Damascus suspected, the full extent of the war will not be learned for years to come.

Suddenly Kassandra screamed, "Damascus!"

And he looked back and saw the thin man was clutching Kassy's shoulders, pulling her back; she struggling against his grip to no avail.

He had been so distracted with the heavy-set man and his unexpected fighting skill that he had completely forgot about the other man. He also didn't think the man would recover so quickly from the kick he had given him. That was one lesson Master Belial had taught him and that he had momentarily forgotten. Never underestimate a fighter and always expect the unexpected, especially from trickster humans.

Damascus growled angrily. "Let her go!"

And then it happened. Mistake number two. A fatal mistake.

While he was distracted by the thin man, the heavy-set man plunged his dagger deep into Damascus's back and the tip of it extruded through the front of his chest, through his heart.

Damascus gasped, his mouth opened in utter shock, as the man yanked the dagger back out. He momentarily stood there, looking at the hole in his chest and the blood saturating his clothes, then collapsed to his knees. How could he have been so stupid as to allow these humans to get the better of him? Decco was right, he had allowed his emotions and nepotism for humans to befall his natural instincts as a demon. And with his well of souls nearly depleted, he didn't think he had enough energy to heal himself this time.

He fell face first to the floor.

"DAMASCUS!" Kassy cried out.

"Now, my little buttercup," the heavy-set man said, his bloodied dagger still in hand. His partner still holding Kassy tight, the heavy-set man approached her and cupped her chin. "Your poof of a boyfriend paid the price for refusing us, now you're all ours. And I plan on having fun with you."

He began to fiddle with the belt of his pants.

Kassy's cries and screams filled the air as Damascus lain there near death. The pain was acute in every facet, but his mind was very much fully aware of the surroundings.

I won't let you die, I won't let these men hurt you!

And he called upon every ounce of soul energy he had left. He felt ripples of power emanating from within his body, pulsing through his every being, creating waves of snake-like tentacles dancing around his body. His well of souls was not empty and he used its remaining power to keep himself alive. And to strike back!

It in turn unleashed the side of him had tried to repress all this time. But h had no choice, it was all about survival now. It was also about love.

"DON'T TOUCH HER!"

His voice boomed within the confines of the room and an invisible wind suddenly swirled around them, tossing objects and furniture everywhere. And as he stood up, his eyes glowed red with rage. But the darkness of the room cast blindness upon the force of nature his body had become. In almost total blackness, the demonic entity he had cultivated over a two thousand year span was finally being unleashed!

They threw Kassandra to the ground and she hit her head, knocking herself unconscious.

"What the hell are you!" the heavy-set man demanded over the noise of the deafening wind.

"I thought you stabbed him?" the thin man said, as if not comprehending the true nature of the situation befalling them.

"He's not human!"

"You are correct, gentleman," Damascus said. "I am a demon. I am in fact a very hungry demon! And I have not feasted in quite some time. I am glad you can oblige me."

And without haste, he attacked the vulgar pair - feeding on their flesh, sucking out their souls, filling his belly with long needed nourishment, their ear-shattering screams adding pleasure to his meal.

And when it was all over, he breathed heavy, returning to his human-form, bent on one knee in the room, his clothes tattered and torn but his wounds completely healed, and his energy-level highly elevated now with two souls added to the well. He had spent the remaining energy he had, but gained much more, so it was worth it.

Looking up, he saw Kassy laying motionless on the floor. Was it worth it?

Oh no, she saw me in my demon form. How am I to explain this?

He quickly went over to her and cradled her in his arms. He had saved her from this pair of scandrals, but at what cost? He may have just lost everything he held dear - what he had feared would happen if he allowed his demonic hunger to get the better of him like what happened at Roanoke fifty-seven years ago. He had slaughtered the entire colony and devoured all these souls after attempting to adhere to a personal discipline for three long years. It was a failed experiment to try to reintegrate himself back into the human culture and Master Belial had scolded him for his fruitless endeavor.

In the years that followed, he eat when he needed. It was only when Decco stole his souls, did he fall back on his personal discipline and vowed not to harm those who had helped him to survive Decco's attempt to kill him. But a protectiveness took over when Kassy was in danger, and he felt he had no choice.

But how would he explain what she had seen?

He extended a hand towards the bloodied and ripped tissue bodies of the two men he slaughtered and burned them with evaporation, completely disintegrating them. It was like they never existed. Then he passed a hand over his clothes and washed the blood away, even repairing his clothes.

Then he had a thought. To protect his secret, would he had to do something he would regret? When Kassy awoke, would she tell the rest the family what she had seen? It happened to often and it was dreadful how sudden chance encounters destroyed lives and their happiness.

And he wished this chance encounter never happened.

Master Belial once said during one of their journeys together that time is relative and you could not necessarily change what as happened albeit observe from it so future mistakes would not occur. He had failed to heed the wise words of his master after Roanoke, that getting involved with humans was a mistake. But things happened that were beyond his control, and he had fallen back into a compliance of human companionship, and allowed himself following his human emotions in staying with Kassandra, whereas he should have left and gained his strength back to the level before Decco did what he did.

It is said love is the strongest human emotion and often overshadows all others, making people do things they regret. Paris and Helen, Tristan and Isolde and Romeo and Juliet - are all prime examples of this strong, often crippling emotion. And he had found himself in this same boat.

But he was a demon.

And yet he was also born human.

He had not realized the true balance of what it meant to be both until now.

He started to pick her up when she began to stir and rested her easily back down. "Kassy, come back to me." And he meant his words to have a double-entendre; he didn't want to lose her.

"Damascus," she said woozily. "What happened?"

"What do you mean, my love?"

"Why am I on the floor?" She opened her eyes to look at him.

What did this mean? "You tripped," he lied, grinning thinly.

"Did I? I don't remember."

"You hit your head," Damascus said with hopeful relief. Did the fall make her forget of what had just happened? "There was…a loose floor board and you fell backwards. I was too late to catch you."

He helped her to sit up. Then he lifted her up into his arms, cradling her like a lover. She was a little taken aback with his boldness, but did not struggle. The human mind was a fragile thing. Sometimes, what doctor's called the 'short-term memory' could be erased with a hit to the head or if someone saw something so terrifying the mind represses it. Regardless of which one, it looked like this had indeed happened with Kassy, and he was so happy for it.

"I don't want to lose you, my dear Kassy. It is time to forget about the past and make a future for ourselves," he said.

"What are saying Damascus?" And although she asked it, her eyes, despite a little woozily, sparkled with the answer she knew.

He cleared his throat. Yes, even a demon can be happy. "What I am saying, Ms. Kassandra Smythe," he smiled, and he felt more nervous than he ever felt before, "is…will you marry me? You make me so happy."

"And you make me happy, too, Damascus. Yes, I will marry you."

And they kissed once more.

Still holding her in his arms, he carried her down the main staircase and kicked the remaining boards down that covered the front door with renewed energy, he walked out of the building.

Here they found Bryan standing at the base of the steps that lead up to the front door of the building. They had told him they were going to visit Kassy's old Boarding House.

With a shocked gasp, he said with a quick succession of hand gestures, he asked, "What happened?" Seeing Damascus carrying her.

Damascus gently let Kassy stand on her own feet.

"Nothing bad Bryan," she said, not revealing her fall. "But Damascus did ask me to marry him."

Damascus and Kassy both smiled at each other.

Bryan looked sharply at each of them in quick succession as to read both their faces of its validity, and then nodded, smiling. He then crooked his fingers into the best form of a heart and swirled a finger in a circle.

"Do they now?" Kassandra said suspiciously.

Bryan nodded.

Damascus was a little confused. "What did he say?" He had not deduced all of Bryan's sign language yet, but this was new even to him. The heart was obvious, but…

"He said the whole family…" she gestured a finger in a circle, "secretly knew about us, and that we are bad at keeping secrets."

Bryan then put a hand to his mouth and then gestured "loudness".

Kassandra's eyes grew wide and her face blushed. "You mean…" Bryan nodded. "He also says," she swallowed, saying before Damascus could ask, "that we are very loud."

And Damascus gave a soft chuckle.

They were married in a short ceremony with family and friends in the back courtyard of the Smythe family home two weeks later.

When they had returned home from that day in London, the day Damascus proposed to her, they had told the family everything, even about the fall. Damascus was very pleased Kassandra had not remembered what truly happened and he would keep it to himself. But while the souls did nourish him, they were hollow. They had no "taste" to them, he later noticed.

He remembered after devouring the souls of the colonist's of Roanoke that they tasted much better than the two scandrals at the Boarding House. The colonist's souls had been cultivated, seasoned, each one had a slightly different flavor, over the three years he had been with them and not eating. It was funny, but he felt souls tasted better and had more potency when he played with his food, especially a soul with a dark energy or a sinful, painful past. He would have to remember that for the future.

But right now, his future resided here with Kassy.

Damascus had no family to invite to the ceremony, but Kassandra's brother had invited a few close friends, including the Phantomhive's whom Damascus had met on a prior occasion. It was a splendid occasion. Although, he had to bite his tongue when the priest recited a few choice words from the bible to consummate their marriage, and got them wrong, paraphrasing badly, even Kassandra seemed to be a little perturbed. But none of the guests or other family noticed, as they weren't biblically conscientious. Although Damascus merely learned the bible to be more attune to angelic entities and his rivals in Heaven.

And Damascus could smell alcohol on the priest during the ceremony. They were married by a drunk priest.

Throughout it all, Bryan was the overall perfect servant. He cooked the food, he served the drinks, put up decorations setting things up the day prior, including the ceremonious weeding half-moon arch for which they were married within and everything for the reception afterwards including tables and chair. The only ironic thing Damascus noticed was that everything was white, and for a demon, it was not his best color.

But Kassy loved it, and she looked like an angel in her white dress, contrasting he in a dark suit. He had talked it over with his brother-in-law and father-in-law and they both agreed. He wearing a white suit would not look good on him.

He was definitely not pure.

And he had not forgotten about his mission for Morning Star to find Master Belial, for which he now knew Decco had imprisoned him in a sachet of purgatory. However, in his current state of being, he was no match for Decco or any of his demon henchmen. He was sure Morning Star would understand and was probably sending others against Decco, as well, to find out the truth.

An hour into the food service for which Bryan also did, William, a little drunk, stood up from the main table where Kassandra and Damascus sat. In his hand was a full wine glass and he spilt some on the table and the grass as he tried to steady himself. Damascus observed over the last year William always enjoyed a drink now and again, but when he got drunk he was obnoxious, and now, probably feeling the occasion called for it, he had drank too much and was completely soused. He feared the outcome.

"To my sister and her husband," he said with a little slur in his voice, he was obviously about to make a toast, "and to their happiness and long life. May the righteous angels fart in the devil's face if he so dares tear them asunder." Voices from guests in disbelief muttered abashment. "May their passion never falter and their babies be handsome and beautiful. And God isn't the only one who knows my sister can be a wild tiger in bed." Damascus saw William wink at him. "She's a real hell raiser, eh, Damascus? Polish the old wick. So when am I goin' to be an uncle? The way you two go at it, any time, right?"

"Please William, you're embarrassing yourself." Damascus looked at Kassy, her face was red. "And everyone else." Even Beautieuse was abashed. "I want you to sit down now."

Wine sloshed from his wine glass as he took offense. "Oh, come on, Damascus. I'm toastin'ere. Can't your brother-in-law say a few nice words?"

Damascus stood up. "Yes, you can," he said. "But only if you have sobered up a little."

"Oh poo," William said, wobbly on his feet.

He went to sit in his chair, but Damascus saw that he was off the mark and tried to grab him before he fell to the ground, but William reached out and grabbed him instead, clutching his vest, and took him to the ground with him. They felt on top of one other, whereas Damascus immediately rolled off, and saw that his vest was partially ripped, the buttons yanked through the holes and his white dress shirt saturated with wine.

Others came to help, and Damascus got to his feet. "Oh Damascus, are you all right?" Kassy said.

"I am," he said, taking a cloth and wiping the stain on his shirt, attempting to clean it. "Your brother…just got a little excited, that's all. I hold nothing against him for it."

"I am so embarrassed."

But Damascus smiled, cupping her chin lightly. "Do not worry, my sweet Kassy, everything will be all right. But I am afraid my attire is not appropriate to continue. A proper gentleman must be dressed accordingly for his lady. Allow me to change into something as equally suitable. I shalt be long."

And he left, and went through the back door of the house that entered into the kitchen. Here he found Bryan washing dishes.

He appeared to notice immediately Damascus's torn and stained clothes. He had obviously not been privy to the incident, even though there was a window above the sink area looking out into the back courtyard. Bryan's look said it all, no hand gestures were needed to ask, "What happened?"

"William is a little drunk and…"

Bryan nodded, as if nothing else needed to be said.

"I am going to change."

To be continued…