Chapter 35, Friends Like These

Warning: Some language

"Come with me," he said quickly, the purple gloves entwining themselves between her fingers. Holding her tight, he strung her along, deeper into the dreary backstreet, where only boxes and bins and dumpsters found their homes. Turning a corner, they were completely out of sight from the districts main street.

A normal girl would have questioned him. A normal girl would have even pulled back. A normal girl would have done something to free herself from his clutches. But there she was, following the willowy figure clad in white down alleyways which brought up the horrors of her youth, and she didn't blink an eye. Wrapping her fingers around his, their footsteps bounced off of the brick walls that surrounded them as they darted through, their destination completely unknown to her, but yet she found herself entirely willing to follow this demon nearly anywhere.

It was surprising.

But even more so, comforting.

Little puffs of smoke came from the kitchen vents filling the gloomy passageway with smells of exquisite foods, and as they neared a new building with a single heavy metal door, her feet slowed with the lead of Mephisto, until they came to a halt. Her heart beat in her chest from the sudden dash, and although usually she would feel completely out of breath, she had never felt more alive than she did in that moment as her glittering eyes were unable to stay off of him.

Reaching his hand into his jacket, he pulled an intricately curled key from his pocket. It looked as though knotted vines make up the hilt, twisting and turning around itself until it came straight to the teeth, where it was clear to be handmade; bumps and dings from the hammer were present as it had tried to shape it. There was a certain patina to it, which had grown past green and began to turn black, showing it's weathered age.

"Starting today, I would like you to attend a sort of…private practice," he spoke from under his brim, his voice flirting with mystery. Before she could pipe up, the locks in the heavy door clicked as he turned the key. "Do mind your manners," he jested, opening the door for the girl before he stepped to the side.

She stared into the deep black for a moment, curious, trying to adjust to the light within the doorway to no avail, as it became clear he had used the first door that would be safe to pass through as another one of his portals. Glancing to the Demon King, she was met with a coy smile as he waited patiently for his human to walk through, like the gentleman he so tried to make himself out to be. She let out a sigh; not a deep, labored one, but instead one of casual delight, and although she had no idea what would be on the other side, she willingly marched through the black void as if she were walking through the bright gates to heaven, with Mephisto close behind.

The door ticked shut, sending them into a cramped dim hall of wood paneled walls. The air was thick and hazy, with a mixture of musty and herby smells that swaddled around them, penetrating their noses and eyes without permission. Down the passage, there was a flicker of dingy orange light. She peered back at Mephisto, only for him to noiselessly motion for her to continue. As she moved, quiet shuffling and tapping noises made their way to her ears, and she tried her best to creep along the squeaky wooden floor, to examine the surroundings as best as possible. The light danced along the ground, half shielded from swathes of linen draped across the entryway. As she stepped, a rustic creak made its way through the floorboards and into the room ahead, there the sounds abruptly stopped.

Whoever was in that room knew that they were no longer alone.

Mephisto's green eyes danced with the light as he watched the girl before him, her breath being taken away in the moment of subdued suspense. How senseless humans were; how adorable they were.

She stood still, the hair began to rise down her arms as the silence grew heavier. And like a great tornado, the strips of fabric before the girl whirled around, exposing the light like hellfire as it erupted against the walls and around the hunched, frazzled figure before her. A shriek of terror escaped the girl as she leapt back into the arms of a cackling demon, amused by her terror as it towed her closer and closer to him while her knees gave up on life itself.

A tiny flash of multicolored light coming from the shadow in the hallway caught the corner of her shaking eyes, and she froze. Slowly, she turned to inspect the still creature, examining its blank shadow features; it was small, hunched, with a top which appeared to be made from wispy prairie grass, and four forked horns sprouted from the head, tangled within themselves. As it shifted, the flash came again—from the center of its head, like a third eye seeing them for the first time.

Rubbing her eyes in disbelief, she quickly hopped out of Mephisto's arms and smacked his shoulder for still laughing. "Fucking asshole! Why didn't you tell me where we were going?!" With fumes blowing from her red face and out of her ears like a boiling kettle, she stomped towards the familiar figure, which stepped backwards into the dim light.

The candlelight finally rested upon the appearance of the old hag she had met months ago, playing within the crevices of her face and neck like a child playing hopscotch. Her milky irises sprung around in front of her, indecisive, trying to settle on the girl. Wiping a tear from his eye, Mephisto stepped past the curtain of shredded fabric strips, attempting to subdue his laughter and regain his formal composure. And as if he quiet hums of his chuckle were all she needed to recognize him, the old woman gasped and buckled, falling to the floor to bow ever so graciously to the King that entered her domain.

"E-excuse me?" the surprised girl stuttered, leaning to the side to get a view of the woman's unresponsive face. "Hello?"

"Don't mind her, little flower. I'm afraid she's blind as a bat and a mute, to boot," he jested through chuckles which bumped past the purple glove pressed to his mouth.

A mute? She could have sworn the old woman had spoken before in their brief encounter. Maybe she wasn't remembering correctly. "Mephisto, what are we doing here?"

"My dear, this is an old friend of mine, Catrine Monvison," he spoke with a sensual roll of the tongue, "she's an expert in...alternative chants, sutras, medicines and the like. You will be dropping Professor Okumura as your tutor, and working with Madame Monvison instead."

A twinge of protest burned within the girl, but was quickly subdued by the growing curiosity in her belly. She cocked her head. Alternatives? Her eyes darted around the room they were in, taking in the strange surroundings. The wooden floors were old and worn, the paneled walls nearly matched, but were so covered in lengthy scrolls, parchment drawings, and etchings which were nailed to them, it was hard to tell what the walls were even made from. Animal parts were suspended from the ceiling to dry along with bundles of herbs. An earthy smell of plants and spices came from the mortar on the table, where bits and pieces of vegetation and tonics were strewn about. In the corner, a fire crackled lowly under a black pot, casting shadows across the room and illuminating different sized and shaped bottles, which reflected varying colors back into the room as they sat, cramped on a large shelf. In the center of the room, a black cat rested atop a table next to a crystal ball, cleaning itself as thoroughly as possible. All along the back wall were deep shelves covered in a cluster of items, and many were packaged, wrapped, and ready to go; on the opposite wall, she noticed another doorway, cloaked in a curtain of shells, bone, and antler.

They must have been in the back of the shop.

"You'd have her teach me…witchcraft?" Her voice was laced in reservation. She had found it odd that a potential witch was living in True Cross Town, yet she had no proof of her previous accusations. Now she was certain, and she couldn't help but to wonder. If the occult was banned by the Vatican, and so, the Order, why was this woman being protected, allowed to reside in her little hole-in-the-wall shop?

A finger found its way to her lips, pressing ever so gently into them as Mephisto's face drew near. His eyes cavorted with mischief, and his voice was dark and husky as he spoke. "Let's not use words like that, shall we?" Releasing the girl, he turned to the old woman, who hadn't moved an inch from where she bowed. "Please, Madame, get up and greet your new student."

Rising to weak, wobbling legs, the old woman refused to turn her face and look directly into the face of the Demon King and the girl within his company. She kept her head low, only showing her cheek, shielding herself as one would when addressing the sheer brightness of the summer sun. Thin hands, with loose, sagging skin came up in succession, just barely coming together with openly splayed fingers as she searched. Hovering, she waited for the girl to meet her, her hands shaking like fall leaves. The girl watched carefully, trying to understand, and it wasn't until she felt the gentle nudge from Mephisto that she stepped forward and into the woman before her. Uncertain of what was expected, she hesitantly brought out a hand, and laid it over the woman's, brushing up against the skin, as dry as buffalo hide.

Madame Monvison wrapped her bones around the girl's hand, coming into full contact for just a split second, running the tip of a finger across the palm, before abruptly stumbling backwards as if the great gust of a storm had tried to push her off of her feet. The girl leaned forward and cried out, hoping to catch the woman with panic in her cloudy eyes, only to be swatted away.

"What's wrong?! What did I do?!" the girl shrieked in alarm, turning to Mephisto.

He was propped against the wall, a coy little smile on his face as he watched everything unfurl. "Nothing, my dear," he said as he stepped towards the two. "Madame Monvison is a clairvoyant, a soothsayer; she traded me her sight long ago for the ability to see with my power." He leaned down to the hunched figure of the trembling woman, sprawled across the floor, a toothy smirk curling in the corner of his mouth as he tapped the headdress of antlers and feathers with the hilt of his umbrella. The witch shuddered as the headdress was adjusted.

"Why would you want me to learn—skills such as hers?" the girl questioned.

Standing at full height, the demon king glided his way to the girl, wrapping her in his arms. "The teachings of the Vatican and the Occult are simply two sides of the same coin, are they not? And one cannot be truly prosperous if they do not use the whole coin." The look of fear twirling in her eyes along with the fire light caused his stomach do a spin, warmth growing on his skin. His thumb brushed across her rounded cheek lovingly. "I wish for you to learn as much as you can, so that you can stay by my side, and protect yourself if ever I cannot," he spoke quietly as he leaned into her, resting into a fiery kiss with his beloved little human.

The girl pushed backwards, glancing at Monvison. If she was indeed a clairvoyant, it was possible she was aware of her surroundings and what went on in them, despite how she acted. "I thought you wanted to be careful who knew?" her voice was but a whisper, unstable with apprehension. She may have trusted Mephisto, but she did not have an ounce of confidence in the witch who stood just feet away.

His brow rose as he sneered over at the woman. "She won't say a word, my dear; she had threatened to cross me just once, and so I took her tongue. Which is precisely why she will take you as her student." His voice was as dark and ominous as Gehenna.

Madame Monvison swallowed the knob deep within in her gullet.

"Please know, everything that you learn here must be kept a secret, and used strictly when there is no other option," he said quietly into the girl's ear before pulling away. "Now then, I'll leave the two of you to it—I have some vermin to sniff out in my town."