A/N: All right, here's my third chapter. Writing about a demon is a challenge sometimes: there might be a little out of characterness here and there, but I did the best I could. Hopefully I can get his attitude going a little better as I go.
Chapter 3
Three days passed. Blackheart was sitting in a coffee shop with yet another stack of job applications. No one seemed to want to hire him. He'd written the name down on his license: Daemon Shadows. He'd had three interviews and he'd only managed to tick all of the people asking the questions off. Things just weren't going that well. If he had to, he would move out of Pam's and into a cheap motel or something, but the money Mephisto had given him would only last so long. Everything around here seemed obscenely expensive.
"You call this a latte! You should be fired!"
Blackheart put down the pen he was holding with a frown. A snobby lady with diamonds glittering all over her was glaring at a waitress.
He realized that the waitress was none other than Dawn.
"What's wrong with it?" Dawn asked, puzzled. Squishie had been napping on the windowsill. Now, she was at Dawn's side and growling. Blackheart watched, arms folded.
Don't just stand there and take it! Tell her she can take the diamonds and stick them up her-
The thought was interrupted when Squishie jumped at the tiny poodle in the woman's chubby arms. Squishie tore after the frightened fluff ball, barking savagely. Dawn yelped at her to come back, but Squishie wasn't listening. As soon as they ran past Blackheart, he pounced on both of them with lightning fast reflexes. In the process of the chase, someone's cup of coffee had been spilled and was now pooling in the tiled floor. Dawn looked very frustrated and pressed her fingers to her temple as though she was getting a headache. As calmly as he could, he stepped toward the two women and handed them both their pets.
"That disgusting mutt!" The diamond lady snarled. Blackheart could see the anger boiling in Dawn's dark eyes. The lady was stroking her "traumatized precious baby" and saying nasty things about Dawn's dog.
"What is with you rich puffed up snobs and your frou-frou little dogs? I've eaten shrimp with more meat on them than that thing!" Dawn snarled.
Blackheart and the diamond lady both stared at her in surprise. Then, the diamond lady huffed away.
"Back on the windowsill, right now," Dawn said firmly to Squishie. She whined and skulked back up to her previous napping spot with her tail tucked between her legs. Dawn retrieved a mop and cleaned up the spilled coffee. Everyone else went back to eating, drinking, and talking.
"Why did you let her walk out of here like that?"
He was just as surprised as she was by the sudden question. Dawn's dark gaze went from the floor up to his face. It took a few seconds for recognition to show.
"Because this is my life," she sighed irritably, "if I got in a fight over everything, I would make even less than I do now."
She went back to the counter to retrieve someone else's order. It was midday and she already looked tired beyond belief. He thought that maybe it was dealing with rude people and not the physical requirements that were more tiring.
He noticed a sign in the window that he hadn't noticed until now: HELP WANTED.
Blackheart sensed he was being watched. He looked down to see Squishie staring a hole in him with her big, dark eyes. She tilted her head to the side as they studied each other. He took a job application off the counter.
"Whuff!" said Squishie.
He could have sworn she was telling him to get out, but it didn't matter. A dog was not going to give him orders. He took it back to his table and filled it out. He cringed when he felt something touch his leg. There was that damned dog again! He was tempted to dropkick her across the restaurant, but he saw Dawn watching him out of the corner of his eye. Cautiously, his hand inched towards her. When she didn't bite the crap out of him, he gently petted her on the head. Satisfied, she trotted off with her crooked tail wagging.
Deciding that she didn't have to do anything about him right now, Dawn went back filling orders. Blackheart left to go deliver the endless pile of applications.
I thought dear old Dad's point was to hurt me, make me beg for his mercy. All he's doing is ticking me off, Blackheart thought irritably.
He was heading back towards Pam's place feeling aggravated and wishing he still had a couple of demonic powers just to make life easier when a familiar bark pierced the air. Squishie came bounding down the sidewalk in the dim evening light.
He didn't see Dawn anywhere. Curious as to what the dog was doing here without her, he stared at the ridiculously fluffy animal with his icy gaze. She sure was an annoying little creature! What did Dawn see in this thing, anyway?
The dog seemed to recognize him. She jumped at him, then ran around in circles while still barking obnoxiously. He was tempted to give her a good kick when she bit his leg and ran off. It worked. He chased after the little brat, prepared to dispose of her and give Dawn a piece of his mind. She danced around in front of an alley, then turned and growled savagely.
Then, all at once, Blackheart understood. The dog had been trying to get his attention and she'd wanted him to follow her. At the other end of the alley, two thugs had someone trapped in a corner. The someone was Dawn.
"Let her go," Blackheart ordered.
They did, but they went after him. A savage grin lit his face: Blackheart was always good for a fight. He lived for it. A nasty cracking sound echoed through the alley as he punched one in the jaw. That guy went down. The other one tried to pull a knife on him, but Blackheart was far too fast. He slammed his head into the wall, knocking him unconscious. After that, he picked the knife up, closed it, and stuck it in his pocket. That might come in handy later.
He noticed that both thugs had bruises and cuts on their faces. Evidently, Dawn had given them plenty of resistance. Unfortunately, they had also retaliated. A gash marred her pale skin on her shoulder. It looked as though one of them had been holding the knife to her throat and gashed her shoulder when she'd fought back. She was unconscious and laying awkwardly sprawled on her side. There was also blood coming from the back of her head. He didn't know how much other trauma she'd endured. Squishie went over to her unconscious master and whined. It was then that Blackheart truly faced his first challenge.
He had three choices. He could just leave her there. He could take her home. Or...
The darker side of him said he could simply add to it and she'd never know. She'd still think he was a hero for trying to save her.
No.
A sudden furious pain all over his body made him scratch that off the list. Having a soul was a pain in the butt. He missed being able to do whatever he wanted, no matter how morbid it was.
He felt around inside her pockets first. Luckily, she'd been paid today and the check had her address on it. It wasn't too far from here. As carefully as he possibly could, he lifted her up. He was surprised: Dawn was not a thin woman, but she was even heavier than she looked. It was a struggle to haul her off the sidewalk and into a comfortable position. He carried her cradle-style into the building, walked right past the doorman that was messing around on the computer, and up the stairs. It took more searching to find her keys, but he did.
Why, WHY, am I bothering? I have no connection to her, he thought as he kicked the door closed once Squishie was inside, she's just a random person on the street that was lucky I didn't kill her on a whim, or that damn dog. If she ever bites me again, I swear I'll tear her to shreds very slowly so that she'll howl the entire time I do it...
He hissed in pain and almost dropped Dawn when the searing pain scorched his body again. Apparently, malicious thoughts were going to be a literal sore spot for him. With some difficulty, he staggered into Dawn's bedroom and lay her down on the bed. Then, he locked the door.
Squishie got up on the bed and kissed Dawn's face. When she didn't respond, Squishie began to whine and cry in a way that was very pitiful.
"Shut up! I can't concentrate with all that noise!" Blackheart snapped. Squishie retreated to the farthest corner of the bed, tail between her legs.
He checked Dawn over for broken bones. There were none, but there were some nasty cuts and bruises. He cleaned them all out as best as he could, then bandaged them up. While checking for other injuries, he had to undress her. Knowing she would likely freak out if she woke up only in her underclothes, he searched for something that wouldn't be too hard to get on her. Pants of any kind were definitely out of the question. He finally found a black nightgown and pulled it over her head. Then, he moved her so that she wouldn't wake up cramped and pulled the covers over her. All the while, he was asking himself why.
Blackheart sat on the edge of the bed for a second, staring at the deep red covers. Everytime he thought something negative about Dawn, it felt as though he were being consumed by flames. He wondered why she affected him so much and other people didn't.
He looked back at her pale, oval-shaped face. She wasn't all that pretty. He'd seen many women enter Hell that were much better looking than she was. He'd seen earthly women that were better looking than she was. She was pale, chubby, and plain. But there was something about her...
He shook his head, trying to will that thought away. What was so different? She'd live for about sixty more years and she'd return to earth, this pale, curvy body turning back to dust. Maybe she had a shot at Heaven, who knew?
Maybe it was better if they weren't around each other too much. Content that her master was taken care of, Squishie curled up next to her side and sighed heavily for such a little dog. Blackheart got up, satisfied that his work here was done. He was beyond tired and he knew he couldn't stay here.
He noticed an electric guitar lying on the couch. He noticed paintings on the walls that bore her signature. Despite her absolute plainness, she did have talent. He locked the door from the inside and closed it behind him.
It absolutely bothered him for some strange reason when he remembered the blood coming out of Dawn's injuries. Until this point, blood had been a way of life, a sign that he'd been doing something right. To watch it drain out of someone's body, especially when it had been his doing, seemed so perfect. To feel it literally freeze as he touched his victims had also felt right. But to see Dawn laying on the ground in a filthy alley where the majority of the contents were garbage cans and high school boys with nothing better to do than mug people made him feel slightly ill.
I hate this damn soul, he thought bitterly, it's making me all pity and sympathy when I've got better things to worry about such as where I'm going to stay and where my next meal is coming from. Thank you, Dad, he added sarcastically.
To his absolute frustration and irritation, he hoped she would be all right.
That night, he didn't sleep worth a damn. Her face kept haunting him. He remembered his pale fingertips brushing her gold hair out of her face as he'd bandaged her up and wondered what it would be like to touch her while she was awake. The thought made his heart beat faster and he cursed internally.
What is wrong with me? he wondered, It must be this stupid soul. I must be feeling weird because of it.
As he stretched out on the bed, he looked down at his own body. It seemed so strange and frightening to finally have a spirit. He was feeling things that were foreign to him. In Hell, there hadn't been such a thing as love. He'd watched several couples split up as one had been taken to Heaven and the other sucked into Hell through the gates, but he'd just thought it was funny. He wondered what on earth would cause the Heaven-bound one to hang onto their doomed partner for as long as they could.
He was all too keenly aware that love was a human emotion and that he was now human, but he vowed he'd never go down that road. Before long, his eyes closed and he drifted into a fitful sleep. Unfortunately, humans also dream and he was about to find that out the hard way.
He was tearing down the sidewalk. He could feel Dawn's presence, but he couldn't see her. He knew she was in deep trouble because the burning in his chest told him so. It felt like a hot bullet, but at least it wasn't stinging so bad that he couldn't move. The two thugs that had come after her were now back and they had their friends with them. Upon seeing him, they just laughed.
"Well if it ain't Hellboy," one of them jeered, "I hope you didn't come to get your girlfriend because it's too late."
He stepped aside to reveal Dawn and Squishie laying on the sidewalk. They were completely motionless. The dog was whimpering, so she might live. Dawn, however, was a different story. Someone had slit her all the way up her stomach to her neck. An ugly dark red gash revealed things that were never meant to be seen. Blackheart instantly felt very sick. The whine of a siren scared the little bastards off, but Blackheart knew that the cop car was chasing someone else and hadn't seen them. He knelt next to Dawn and pressed a finger to her neck, feeling for a pulse. There was none. Of course there wouldn't be; there was blood pooling on the sidewalk. Shivering, he lifted her off the sidewalk and held the motionless body for a moment. Her flesh was already starting to grow cold and stiff.
For the first time in his life, he was truly afraid and he didn't know why. Then, a blinding light shone in his face and he was forced to bury his face in Dawn's curly hair to get away from it. He knew he should run, but he was paralyzed. As the cops yanked him away from the motionless figure, he objected that he hadn't done it; he'd just gotten here. But they didn't believe him.
"Not so tough are you?"
It was his father. His father was driving the cop car. Blackheart's features twisted into a glare.
"You had something to do with this, I know you did!" he shouted.
Mephistopheles merely smiled.
"Maybe."
Blackheart launched himself over the backseat. He was cuffed, but he didn't care. His father warded off the attack easily.
"Now that you've learned your lesson, it's time to go home."
Right then, it was as though the car was being swallowed up by the earth.
Blackheart woke up with a start. The day was stormy and cool. It took a second for his thundering heart to slow down. He realized that his cell phone was ringing and flipped it open.
"This is Jake Yorke from the Expresso Corner coffee shop," a raspy male voice said, "we had a lot of applicants for a job here, but I heard a lot about you from Dawn Stevens. Be here tomorrow morning at nine. I hope for your sake that you're as good as she says you are."
At first, he wanted to give the guy a piece of his mind for being so demanding, but another emotion topped the irritation he felt. This one, he was familiar with. It was pride.
She got you a job, he thought, maybe it was worth putting up with that ratty thing she calls a dog and hauling her out of that alley.
Even though he didn't look forward to the work that much, Blackheart knew that it was a small victory nonetheless.