Chapter Two: Home

"I do believe you are in perfect health," Praxis said one afternoon. Blackheart had, to confess, been feeling much better under her care. Though human food took some time getting used to, Praxis—and to a degree Alchemy—aided in the transition from gaining energy from the life force of live things, to consuming the energy from dead things. Praxis had also lavished him in gifts of clothing. Two of the three drawers under his bed were full.

In the three weeks he had been conscious, few demon's came to earth. Most of the ones that stayed in Praxis' hotel were half-breeds like her daughter. The problem with booking, according to Praxis, was the fact that the battle for Mephistopheles' kingdom was over. There was a very solid peace. When Blackheart heard that news, he realized how long three years had been. Peace in his father's kingdom. It didn't seem quite right.

Blackheart was working his way through Alchemy's book collection. He had finished her small set of dystopian novels and had moved on to more light-hearted fiction. Alchemy had reclined on her bed, typing madly.
"How much longer are you staying?" She asked tentatively.
"I don't know," Blackheart answered truthfully. In the few weeks he had been awake, him and Alchemy formed a business relationship. They were, no doubt, cordial to each other, but each of them realized there was a wall between them as well.
"I'd like my room back eventually," She replied, "sharing it with you is not my idea of fun."
Blackheart shrugged, not caring about her petty problems. He had his own.

First off, he knew he had no way to pay back Praxis for her hospitality. She had been like a mother to him. In fact, she was much better than his own mother. She had bought him clothes, taken care of him, fed him, and generally looked after him. He felt guilty for being such a leech. Though Praxis insisted that he need not worry, he could not help himself. He may be a demon, but to another demon, he was not going to be the pompous, spoiled brat he usually was. Not to someone like Praxis.
Secondly, though he was ready to move out—his strength was back to what it was before that damned contract—Praxis would not let him leave until he had a steady place to stay. Before the war for the kingdom broke out, he lived there. After, he lived in a small section of the kingdom in an abandoned castle. When he came to earth, he lived with the Hidden, in a small house where they could recuperate, and generally let their guard down. He had considered going back to this place; the hidden were bound to be there. They were elements and only the shells that housed them were dead. But, in case they weren't there, he moved on. Besides, he had gotten their mortal bodies killed. Those bodies take months to achieve and tons of strength to keep up. Praxis would not let Blackheart go because he was, technically speaking, homeless. Though he could easily leave, no matter what Praxis says, a large part of him hoped that this place would become his home.
How to ask Praxis though, that was going to be a problem.

Alchemy was having her own problems. She was fighting hard to keep an air of arrogance around her. From the moment she had laid eyes on Blackheart for those six blissful days he had been in her room three years past, she had been in love with him. Now he was back, vulnerable, and she was an adult. She didn't want to come on too strong, out of fear she would scare him off, which happened when she was sixteen. She had resolved that, if she had turned 21 and he hadn't returned, she would go find him, be him dead or alive, she had to know. She did everything to get him to notice her, including sleeping topless.
In a cruel twist of fate, her ex-boyfriend had begun stalking her again. Though she had broken up with him over a year ago, he never could grasp the fact she was gone. There was little she could do but hold her head high and ignore him. Why she had gone out with him in the first place, she didn't know.
As long as he didn't contact her in any way, Alchemy would be fine.

At roughly the same time every night, the soft glow of Alchemy's computer would wake him up, and Blackheart would strain his eyes in the odd light to see if Alchemy truly was sleeping without a shirt, or simply in a thin bra, or a short top. He half-believed she could never sleep entirely shirtless. Most demons tended to view clothing as outdated human morality, but to get by on Earth, one would have to comply too these outdated morals. Alchemy had been on earth her whole life, so she was ingrained with this moral code. Perhaps at night, her demon side shone through. Blackheart pondered these questions sometimes, when Alchemy was getting ready for bed, or during long stretches of time in the afternoons.

It was a lazy Saturday. Alchemy floated about on the surface of the pool while her father napped in the shade of a tree. Praxis and Blackheart remained on the deck, sitting quietly, watching either Alchemy float past, or nature.
"Can we discuss something?" Blackheart asked quietly.
"You feel guilty for staying here so long."
He nodded, "it's not just that."
"And yet you wish to stay here longer."
Again, he nodded, "I don't want to impose. As one demon to another, I don't want to leech off you forever."
Praxis laughed in a rather high-pitched voice, "you aren't leeching. You've come to think of this place as a home."
"To a degree," he replied softly, gazing at Alchemy's stomach move with her breath.
"It's settled then, this is your home."
"You're just going to take me in?"
"As one demon to another," She smiled.

"So," Alexander had turned to Blackheart at dinner, "Praxis has informed me you're moving in permanently."
"What?" Alchemy asked.
"He doesn't have a home," Praxis said, "and he can help with your work, you don't have to do it on our own now."
"But, we don't have room. We're a hotel, not an apartment!"
"He will remain in your room."
At this, Alchemy's face fell. "Why do I have to sacrifice my space and privacy for him?"
"You will do as you are told."
Alchemy stood, and turned to leave. She stopped though, eyeing the plate of food that was barely touched. She flipped it upwards, toward her mother, spilling its contents across the table. At this, she stormed off and locked herself in her bedroom.
A few minutes passed, and there was a knock at the door.
"Who is it?" She called like a fourteen year old.
"Blackheart," he answered quietly, "may I come in?"
She crossed the room and unlocked the door, allowing him to enter before quickly closing and locking it again.
"I wouldn't have asked to stay if I knew she was going to give your room to me."
She waved her hand nonchalantly, "It's not your fault."
He handed her a large bar of chocolate, "don't humans like chocolate when they are upset?"
She smiled despite her tears, "yes, I suppose we do."
"I don't want to be your enemy Alchemy, not if I'm moving in with you."
Blackheart? Being selfless? Alchemy was sure he was delusional, or she was dreaming.
She plopped down, cross-legged on one end of her bed, and motioned for Blackheart to do the same. She slowly unwrapped a section of the chocolate, "I hate my mother sometimes."
"Last time I was here, you adored your mother."
"Things change," Alchemy sighed, "She always seems to be disappointed in me. Like I can never do anything good enough." She took a small bite of the food, mulled it over and sighed again, "I want to...I want to have my own family and not run some 'demon hotel'. It was a stupid idea when she came up with it, and it's still a stupid idea!"
Blackheart didn't say anything. He knew what it was like to live in a home where the parents acted disappointed in their children. Though his father was disappointed in him, he highly doubted Praxis resented or hated her daughter in any fashion. It always was hard for demons to show their affection.

In an attempt to repay Praxis, Blackheart took little jobs around the house. Jobs that were typically Alchemy's. Though Alchemy protested at first, she eventually caved and let him do her work.
She enjoyed the time off.
"It is so nice to have some extra help," Praxis smiled, nodding approvingly at Blackheart.
"I learned everything from watching Alchemy. You have a very devoted daughter."
Alchemy felt the colour rise in her face.
Praxis' face pinched, "yes, well, it's nice to have someone who doesn't complain as much."
Alchemy's face fell. She cast her glance down to her dinner plate. "I'm not hungry..." she said softly.
"Before you go to bed, be sure to change the laundry over," Her mother said, taking a bite of the meat dish Alchemy had made for dinner. "By the way, this dish is overcooked."
"I thought Dad would like something other than rare beef."
Alexander nodded approvingly, but Praxis ignored her daughter.
"Excuse me..." Alchemy said softly, walking slowly up the stairs to her room. She didn't lock the door this time, but rather sat quietly on her bed, staring at her mattress with a blank expression. So, her mother didn't appreciate her. And her father just sat by and did nothing.
Without saying a word, Blackheart finished the dinner Alchemy had made—which he happened to find quite appetizing for a human dish—and went upstairs to see how the poor dear was doing. He silently crossed the room, and sat beside her. She shifted so he had more room, and she pulled her legs to her chest. She was nestled between her wall and Blackheart, and felt oddly safe. With tears streaming down her face, she fell into him, and slipped her hand into his. And without a word, Blackheart held her close.

She needed a friend, now more than ever.