Demon and the Fox - 33. Epilogue

Five months later

When Nick walked in the club he saw sexy nurses and pirates, super heroes and pop stars. A group of friends were doing teenage mutant ninja turtles, another cosplayed Star Wars characters. People had more inspiration than Nick; he’d just bought cheap red devil horns as a last minute inside joke with himself before coming to the club.

It was October 31^st and students liked a good excuse to party. The dressed up young men and women were already dancing. The flashing lights were like an epilepsy attack, the too loud music was fast-paced pop with added bass, and the artificial fog a thick mist covering it all up.

Nick found the stairs and went up where it was a bit quieter. There was a bar counter with black velvet tables and chairs and a view on the dance floor below. Nick ordered a rum and coke. He didn’t get carded. The devil horns must have scared them.

There was a mirror behind the bar counter and Nick could glimpse how silly he looked with the red plastic things in his black hair. But he didn’t take them off. Nick grabbed his drink and went to lean against the railings to glance down at the crowd of people dancing their way through flashy lights and fake smoke. A sea of bodies pulsing to the clumsy pop music remixes. Nick was a bit disappointed; he preferred electronic.

As he sipped his drink, he started to regret his decision to come here. He didn’t recognize anyone. Not that he had many friends in the first place; it wasn’t easy when Nick’s only friend in all of Stanford didn’t even remember him.

Someone plopped onto the railing next to Nick, snapping him out of his jaded thoughts. A male someone with shaggy brown hair and freaky red contacts.

“Hi.”

Nick barely heard him over the loud music. But his voice sounded familiar, so Nick granted him with a second, more attentive glance. He noticed that the brown hair was a wig, and considered the slightly upturned nose and almond-shaped eyes.

He nearly dropped his drink. “Sasha?”

Sasha grinned, revealing ridiculous long plastic fangs.

“Hey,” he said, then made a face, “sorry it’s hard talking with those things.”

“Your text said you weren’t coming.”

Nick looked into the freaky red eyes—wishing he could see Sasha’s normal eyes instead, but he supposed this was the next best thing—and the rest of the club seemed to vanish.

“I changed my mind,” said Sasha.

They hadn’t spoken in a long time. Hadn’t seen each other in a long time. Nick texted Sasha from time to time to keep in touch, but that was it. And he’d been just about ready to give up. But Sasha was here tonight. Nick wanted to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming the whole thing.

“What’s with the get-up?” Nick eyed him up and down. Other than the wig, contacts and fangs, Sasha wore a normal outfit—well, normal for Sasha: purple converse sneakers, dark blue skinny jeans, thin black hoodie.

“I’m a werewolf,” Sasha explained.

Nick laughed. “Wow. Why didn’t I think of that?”

They were in their own little bubble on the upper floor of the dance club. All the dressed up people milling about, the dancers below, the obnoxious music; none of that mattered. Nick didn’t know what to do with his hands. He kept shifting his weight; he didn’t think he’d ever felt so nervous before in his life.

It had been hard, going to the same university—they even lived in the same dorm building—but not being able to hang out with Sasha. It was really rough, and painful, knowing that Sasha didn’t remember him, didn’t care for him, didn’t think about him the way Nick thought about Sasha every single day.

Nick brought his glass to his lips, but then thought better of it.

“Do you want some?” he offered the drink to Sasha.

But Sasha shook his head.

Nick nodded; he wasn’t thirsty either. So he put his drink away on a nearby table. Crossing his arms against his chest, he brought his attention back to Sasha.

“So why did you come?”

There was this restlessness inside, this tingling sensation that made Nick feel all warm and cold at the same time.

“I remember,” Sasha said.

The tingling sensation burst into a million others and Nick felt like his chest was too small to hold all the emotions that were happening in there. He held onto the railings like his life depended on it. Sasha’s voice was too low, the music too loud; what if he hadn’t heard correctly?

“You mean, you remembered something? What did you remember?”

“No,” Sasha said slowly, “I mean, I remember everything, Nick. I’m sorry… I miss you. I want to be with you. If… you still want me.”

For a moment Nick couldn’t find his voice, like something was stuck deep inside his throat and wouldn’t come free.

The club was getting crowded. People spilled over on the upper floor and bumped into Sasha and Nick as they made their way about, but Nick didn’t care. He barely even noticed.

He finally found his words. “Of course I still want you,” he blurted out. His heartbeat picked up and it was painful.

Nick’s voice came out as a whisper, even though he felt like shouting that he loved him. That he still loved him. Feelings like that didn’t just go away, not even after going to Hell and back—especially not after that.

Sasha tentatively touched Nick’s arms, and they opened up to pull Sasha closer. They held each other and it was somewhat clumsy and awkward, but Nick knew they could make it right again. He knew they would.

When they pulled away, Sasha said, “I want to take things slow. Let’s go on a date, okay? This weekend, or the next. We could go for coffee, or something.”

“I would really like that,” Nick said.

***

The next day, Nick jumped in his bright red Toyota Camry and took the interstate North across San Francisco Bay. It was interesting what money could buy you; a thirty minutes drive instead of a one hour and a half bus ride.

Before getting in the car, Nick had texted Sasha.

‘You know what? I don’t want to wait anymore. Would you like to go for coffee today?’

Sasha had replied. ‘I’d like that. Let’s do it.’

‘I just need to do something for a friend first. Then I’m all yours.’

Nick’s phone rested on the passenger seat now, next to his jacket.

He kept his eyes on the road as he drove across the foggy Northern Californian morning. Driving was faster than the bus, but teleportation would have been, of course, the fastest. Nick clenched the steering wheel, clearing his thoughts. He didn’t want to do that sort of thing anymore. He had stopped using his demonic abilities a while back.

Although, he supposed he was on his way to bring someone back from the dead right now.

But a deal was a deal.

Shay had an apartment in San Francisco, not too far from Chinatown, on Sacramento Street. Nick parked his car, pulled up the handbrake, grabbed his keys and jacket and stepped out. He shivered as the brisk wind blew his hair and seeped into his clothes. Nick shrugged his jacket on as he made his way to the beautiful white brick apartment building. It looked all fresh and new, with clean square windows and a cute arched doorway that led to the main entrance.

Nick rested a hand next to the numeric screen, and he typed in the digits he knew by heart. It wasn’t his first time visiting Shay. The glass doors unlocked with a click. Nick rushed inside the well-lit hall, pushed past the elevators, and caught the stairs instead. He hated elevators. He didn’t care if Shay lived on the seventh floor. Free workout.

Shay’s door was already open. He ushered Nick in and led the way across the hall.

“How are you?” Shay asked.

“I’m good. I’m really good.”

Shay’s living room was like a music studio. No TV. There was a cozy beige couch in one corner with a small mahogany coffee table, but the rest of the room was instruments. Piano, drums, guitars; acoustic and electric. The electric one was plugged to an amp. Shay had a computer desk with a fancy sound system. He played all the instruments himself, then synthesized to create tracks on his computer, and the final results were uploaded on youtube. He had quite a lot of subscribers, including Nick of course.

It appeared just now Shay had been playing the violin. The delicate instrument was out of its case, resting against a stool chair. Nick watched as Shay gathered up the violin and bow and hopped on the stool. But he didn’t play.

Shay wore a loose white shirt and blue jeans that were ripped at the knees. His hair looked freshly washed. The pale daylight pierced the clouds and slipped through the square windows, veiling Shay’s hair with copper highlights.

“You look good,” Nick told him. “You look healthy.”

Shay smiled. He crossed his ankles and dangled his feet. “So do you.”

“Sasha remembered,” Nick burst out. He couldn’t hold it in. It felt good to tell someone. “I don’t know how but… He says he remembers everything.”

“That’s amazing, Nick!” Shay’s smile widened. “That’s why you look so happy.”

“Probably,” he laughed. Nick scratched the back of his head, casting a glance around the room.

There was an ashtray full of cigarettes on the coffee table, next to an empty mug. Shay had painted his living room walls a deep green shade and put up posters of musicians he liked. Nick didn’t recognize all of them, but The Rolling Stones were up there along with Miles Davis, Michael Jackson and The Beatles. Nick glanced down at the computer desk. It had a couple drawers, but none of them looked big enough for an urn. Nick supposed Shay didn’t keep it in this room.

“I’m gonna do it.” Nick locked eyes with Shay. “Right now.”

A flame lit up in Shay’s eyes. “Are you sure?”

“I said I would, didn’t I?” Nick retorted. “I won’t go back on my word.”

Shay leaped down from his stool, setting the violin aside. He tucked his hair behind his ear as he stalked across the hallway and disappeared in his bedroom. He reappeared two seconds later with the metallic urn in his hands. There was nothing special about the urn. Just an M carved on it. Shay gave it to Nick.

“I haven’t used my powers in a while,” Nick explained, “so it might take me a while to get into it. I guess I need to go find Malachy, first…”

“Don’t bother.”

Nick spun on his heel as a third presence made itself known in the room. Malachy, of course. All in black from his combat boots to the thin scarf around his neck. There were tiny boat anchor designs on the scarf. Malachy leaned his hip into the piano, arms crossed, like he’d been there the whole time.

“I was playing for him before you got here,” Shay explained, motioning at the violin.

Nick nodded, his palms feeling a bit clammy as he held the urn.

“That makes my job easier, I guess. If you could, um, come closer.” He looked up into Malachy’s blue-gray eyes and almost flinched; he’d forgotten how intense his eyes were.

Malachy smiled as he sashayed over to Nick. They stood, facing one another in the center of the room. Shay had stepped away. He held his violin against his chest, like he needed to hold on to something.

“I don’t need instructions, Nick,” Malachy said. “I know the drill.”

“Then let’s get this over with.”

Malachy’s pale hands flew up and he held the urn with Nick. Their fingers touched. Malachy’s skin felt cold and odd, tangible but not quite; almost too soft, surreal. Nick locked his gaze with Malachy’s stormy eyes again. He couldn’t believe he was bringing Malachy, of all people, back from the dead.

Nick breathed out, pushing his thoughts away. If he was going to do this, then he couldn’t hold on to any lingering doubts. Nick focused on his breathing until his mind was as clear as stream water.

Shay’s music room darkened. Shay himself seemed to be standing far away in the shadows. The air around Malachy and Nick stirred. A wind that shouldn’t be there rose and ruffled their hair. Nick let the powers fill him. He had been worried because he hadn’t used them in a while, but it was like learning how to bike. He couldn’t unlearn it. His body knew what to do.

Soon Nick’s skin felt uncomfortably hot. Waves of energy rippled from his chest and stomach, echoed across his entire body, and then leaked through his arms and into Malachy. The transfer of energy was beginning. This was Nick’s fourth time doing this. The first time had been easy. Shane’s body had been waiting for him in their apartment. With Riley, Shay, and now Malachy, Nick had to do it with ashes. He needed a lot more energy.

The room darkened even more, nearly disappearing completely. Malachy and Nick were linked as their fingers clutched the urn. Its metal, like Nick’s skin, was becoming very hot. The air formed a sphere of violent wind blowing around them, like they were caught in a mini tornado. Before, the room had smelled like coffee and cigarettes. But now Nick could only smell blood. He looked down at the urn.

“Now?” Malachy asked urgently.

“Not yet,” Nick replied.

The energy linking them was painful, like electric shocks running across Nick’s body, all the way to his fingertips, and crackling into Malachy’s body in turn. This went on for a few instants, Nick feeling weaker, and weaker, and Malachy feeling stronger, always stronger. And Malachy smiled like Nick had never seen him smile before. It wasn’t snidey or egotistic. Malachy looked genuinely euphoric—and Nick didn’t doubt that he was. He’d seen the same rapt expression on Shay’s face just five months ago.

“Now,” said Nick. He felt completely drained, like he’d just run ten miles.

Malachy unscrewed the urn open and started drinking with no hesitation. The ashes had turned to blood. Nick kept holding Malachy’s arms as he watched him drink. There was no instructions manual for necromancers—or if there was one, he hadn’t read it—but Nick knew better than to break the connection until it was completely over. As Malachy soaked up that blood, he sucked in the last of Nick’s energy at the same time. And as he engulfed it to the very last drop, the air around them went still.

The living room brightened up. Shay stepped out of the shadows. It smelled like coffee and cigarettes again, and Malachy and Nick pulled away from one another, dropping the urn to the floor. It fell with a metallic clang; it was empty.

Nick’s breathing was difficult. He rested his hands on his thighs. His legs were shaky, and the green walls with the posters of musicians were spinning a bit.

Shay put down his violin silently, and he stepped closer to Malachy. It looked like he was holding his breath. The sunlight washed over the both of them, shining brighter than before. Malachy’s brown curls tinted gold, his teeth were very white as he smiled, and a red flush colored his cheekbones. Shay was touching Malachy’s hands tentatively.

“Your skin feels warm,” Shay whispered.

Malachy gave a startled gasp of laughter. He pushed Shay’s hands away, only so that he could hold him in his arms. He looked young. They both did, Nick thought as he watched, still catching his breath. He felt so tired that he thought he could sleep for twelve hours and then still feel sleepy. But he felt content, somehow.

A deal was a deal.

“I want to go outside.” Malachy slapped Shay’s shoulder enthusiastically before pulling away. “Let’s go outside. I want to feel the wind. Get a sunburn. Buy an overpriced latte. Let’s go!” He pulled at Shay’s sleeve like a child.

Shay laughed. His laughter sounded free, melodious and perfect. He glanced over at Nick.

“Are you coming with us?”

“No,” Nick shook his head, “no, I, um, I need to drive back to Stanford.”

Shay nodded. With Malachy they came toward him. Malachy opened up his arms, grinned, and hugged Nick tight.

“Come here, you!” He spoke so unnecessarily loudly that it hurt Nick’s eardrums, and he winced. “Thank you!” Malachy shouted. “I love you so much I could kiss you.”

Nick gathered the little energy he had left to shove him away.

“Get off me!”

“Hey, Nick, how’s being a werewolf?” Malachy asked.

“Painful.”

It was like Malachy spoke a different language altogether.

“You’re so lucky!” he beamed.

“Careful what you wish for,” Nick warned, “because on the full moon, I will find you, and I will bite you.”

Malachy rubbed his hands together. “I’m excited!”

You couldn’t win with him. You just couldn’t.

Laughing, Malachy bounced his way toward the front door, his boots stomping the hardwood floor. Shay was much more delicate as he passed Nick, touching his shoulder lightly like the brush of a feather.

“Thank you.” He said it quietly, sincerely.

Nick said, “I have no idea how you tolerate him,”

Malachy already had one foot out the door. He held it wide open and stared at them from across the hallway.

“Guys, come on! Shay,” he chimed, “I have an idea. We should go out, meet some girls. You can be my wingman! They love the whole musician thing.”

Shay glanced at Nick, shrugged. “Me neither,” he said. But he was smiling.

***

Sasha was already at the coffee shop when Nick showed up. Panicked, he checked his phone. But he wasn’t late; Sasha was just early. Nick went to join him in a booth by the window. Two steaming mugs were already on the table. Sasha had a textbook and a notebook opened up in front of him. The textbook seemed to be about nutrition.

“Hey,” Nick said, sliding in his seat.

He cast a glance around. The small coffee shop was nice and quiet. The seats were all filled up, but it was mostly silent anyway; lots of lone students working on their laptops, listening to their own music with their earphones.

“Hey!” Sasha said back. He looked shy. His movements were a bit jerky as he put his textbook away. “I already got you a coffee. Hope that’s okay. I didn’t add sugar in it.”

“That’s perfect.”

Nick reached for his coffee and took a big, long sip. His stomach was in knots and he wasn’t particularly hungry or thirsty, but he made an effort. Besides, he did feel exhausted from the whole bringing-someone-back-from-the-dead thing, so maybe coffee would help.

Outside cars whizzed by along the campus drive. It was lined with trees on both sides, and beyond it was a small parking lot. Nick brought his attention back to Sasha and saw green eyes studying him. When Sasha was caught staring, he quickly glanced away.

Nick smiled. “I like your normal eyes way better.”

Sasha was pulling his hoodie tighter around himself, and he clutched the hem of his sleeves inside his palms before crossing his arms. He looked a bit confused.

“What are you talking about?”

“Last night, those red contacts,” Nick said. He held his coffee with both hands for warmth. “They just looked weird.”

A strand of dark blonde hair fell into Sasha’s eye, and he pushed it away with a quick movement of his hand.

“I was swimming last night.”

Nick frowned. “Well you stopped by the club…”

Sasha took a sip of coffee, then he shook his head. That strand fell in his eye again.

“I stayed at the pool late last night,” Sasha insisted, “to swim laps. I didn’t go to a club.”

An icy fist gripped at Nick’s heart as realization seeped into him with dawning horror. Of course. The wig. The contacts. Of course.

Nick let out a dry laugh.

“What’s wrong?” asked Sasha.

How had Nick not noticed the difference? Sasha’s voice was lower, raspier. His built was a bit more athletic, still slim, but not as lithe.

I’ve been played.

The club had been noisy. Nick had been too naive. He’d been too eager, too ecstatic to question it.

“Just to be clear,” Nick placed his palms flat against the table, “do you remember anything about me?”

Sasha looked troubled. “I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I don’t. I just… I don’t have a lot of friends, and I thought it would be nice to hang out… Gabriel told me you and I used to date, so…” A light flush colored his cheeks. Sasha grabbed his coffee and drank some of it like he wanted to hide behind it.

Nick thought about Shay. That glint in Shay’s eyes as Nick had announced he would do it; he would bring Malachy back.

That little trickster.

“So what were you saying about some club?” Sasha asked him, setting his mug down.

“You know what? Don’t worry about it. I just thought I saw you, but it must’ve been someone else.”

“Okay. So… how’s school treating you? You’re a writer, right?” Sasha tilted his head.

He looked all sweet and eager, like he was genuinely excited to know more about Nick. That sincerity, that yearning in those pale eyes melted the iciness in Nick’s chest. Instead he started to feel warm.

“A writer? I wish,” Nick said. “Maybe some day.”

He thought about Shay and Malachy, the way they’d stormed outside that building to roam the streets of San Francisco together. Two old souls in a beautiful city, wanting to feel young again.

I’ve been tricked by a demon and a fox.

And Nick realized he couldn’t even be angry.

“What about you?” he asked Sasha. “Swimming’s still your passion?”

Sasha brightened up. “Yeah. Yeah, it is. I’ve got a freestyle competition coming up this week… Do you want to come?”

“Yes, definitely.” Nick smiled. “I’ll be there.”