Demon and the Fox - 4. Don't Fear the Reaper

On Thursday night, five days after the disastrous date with Nick and the dreadful werewolf party, Sasha stood on a tiny stage with his band. They had reunited for the end of the school year. Their band name: The Little Death. The French translation—la petite mort—was an idiom for orgasm. It was a pretty cool band name and they were proud of it.

It turned out, after kicking Sasha out because he always missed practice, they couldn’t find another singer, so they took him back. The bassist was Dave, a metal fan who always wore the same t-shirts. He had one t-shirt for every day of the week: Rise Against on Mondays, Metallica on Tuesdays, that kind of thing. Phil was their crappy but enthusiastic guitarist. He enjoyed it so much that it was endearing.

Yeah, no one had the heart to tell Phil that he wasn’t very good. But maybe he had realized it by himself, because lately he was always walking around with the book ‘Guitar for Dummies’ and reading it in class at school. Oh and then there was their drummer. He was Chinese and his name was really difficult to pronounce. It was Xianglin, if Sasha wasn’t mistaken, but everybody called him Lili. It was easier. And Lili didn’t care. He never cared about anything. In fact, for Lili’s birthday a couple of months ago, Sasha got him a custom t-shirt that said: Lili doesn’t give a shit. Lili really liked it, too. He was wearing it right now.

Phil’s uncle owned a modest pub in East Harlem so here they were. It felt good to be on a stage with his band, even though the sound in this place was awful. It didn’t matter. Backstage, Dave had told him that his voice would sound pretty sweet no matter what. Dave wasn’t trying to flirt with him or anything. He was just being a good friend.

Lili and Phil were actually lucky enough to be popular at school, so something like half the high school students were here. So that was pretty cool. Well, to be fair, they’d spread rumors that everyone could get alcohol without being carded, and it was kind of true. The pub was jammed. Some people even sat on the bar counter. The place’s special tonight was a cocktail with spicy rum and juice and soda or something like that, but Lili had tried it earlier and reported it wasn’t very good. A bunch of kids were still drinking the stuff though. Now to hope the cops wouldn’t show up here tonight.

Sasha leaned into the mike to sing the chorus. They were doing a song cover right now. Soul Meets Body, by Death Cab for Cutie. They only ever did covers, anyway. They’d tried doing their own songs from time to time but it was never very conclusive.

“…if the silence takes you, then I hope it takes me too. So brown eyes I hold you near, cause you’re the only song I want to hear. A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere.”

Whenever Sasha glanced to his sides, he could see Phil and Dave smiling and giving him discreet encouraging nods as they played on their guits. This was nice. For the students it was a well-needed break from studying. For Sasha and his friends it was nice to play in front of an audience for a change.

Sasha was trying really hard not to think about Nick. And he thought he was doing a good job of it too. This bar wasn’t that bad, anyway. Phil’s uncle was making an effort. Some cheesy light effects danced across the stage as they played.

And people looked like they were having fun. Some of them were even dancing, so that was awesome. Sasha smiled as he finished the song.

The next song they were doing was Goodbye by Glenn Morrison.

“…Now I, I wanna know, what it took to leave me…”

Why did all songs have to be about love and broken hearts? It was hard enough not to think about Nick already. And it became even harder when Sasha saw Nick and Hazel in the crowd.

What the hell? Sure, he had invited Hazel to this thing a while back. But that didn’t mean she was still invited. Sasha was pissed. And he could feel their stare on him, too. Well, he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of acknowledging their presence. He quickly averted his gaze and he just sang with renewed intensity. Let them see how well he was doing without their presence in his life.

“…Even now, as I lay, there’s a space you used to take. If I’d known, what we made would be gone like yesterday…”

Well, these lyrics weren’t helping. But no matter. The song was good, and Sasha’s voice was great—if Dave said so, then it must be true. He glanced to the side, and Dave looked up from his bass to smile at him. Sasha smiled back.

Don’t look at Nick, he thought. Don’t look at him.

He looked. Damn it! He quickly glanced away, and focused on his singing, and on all the faces of his fellow students who were having fun tonight. It didn’t matter, anyway. Nick hadn’t been looking toward the stage. He’d been looking at Hazel. And she’d been beaming right back. Because they were together. How did that even make sense, anyway? How had it even happened? Had Nick gone, ‘Oh hey, hello, I’m Nicholas Russell and I used to be gay but I’ve decided I want to date werewolf girls from now on, and I choose you Hazel Snow!’ Very romantic.

Think about something else. Think about something else.

It was Sasha’s eighteenth birthday today. So that was something. He hadn’t told anyone because he didn’t like to celebrate. Mostly because his parents were dead.

But Gabriel had bought him a chocolate cake. Last night, around midnight, they were both still up so Gabriel had said ‘fuck it’ and taken the cake out of the fridge. It wasn’t nearly as good as something Sasha could’ve made himself, so they just laughed and ended up making peanut butter brownies with Sasha’s recipe instead. And they ate them while reminiscing about all the silly stuff Lilya and Stephen would do for their birthdays when they were kids. Sasha’s parents used to be teachers, so they were really bad at organizing things for kids.

As he finished the song, Sasha thought that Nick didn’t even care that it was his birthday. He probably didn’t even know. And even if he knew, he wouldn’t care.

His chest hurt.

“…Goodbye, and it starts to snow…”

That was the last song they were doing. When it was over, Sasha pretended that all was well in the world for a little while longer. He hugged Dave, and then he hugged Phil and Lili, and they were all smiling as they listened to people clap and cheer for them. That sound was pretty amazing, and it did make Sasha feel a bit better.

They left their instruments on the stage for now and went to join the party. Now that the band was done, they played dancey music. A remix of the song Sweet Dreams. There was a sort of small makeshift dance floor. They’d just pushed all the tables and chairs to the side earlier.

Sasha’s bandmates all had girlfriends, actually, so they went to dance with them and probably do some illegal drinking. Sasha didn’t have a girlfriend, just two very unwelcome acquaintances, so he figured he should probably just start heading home now.

He shouldered his way across the drunken sea of high school students, and as he tried really hard to avoid Nick and Hazel at all costs, he ran into someone else he knew.

Make that three very unwelcome acquaintances.

Devin Cook.

Fucking Devin Cook was here. And he was standing right in front of Sasha, in the middle of the crowded dance floor, clad in blue jeans and a dress black shirt. He wore thin black leather gloves. His dark hair was cropped so short it was almost shaved, and he looked at Sasha with coal black eyes. Sasha froze. A flow of unwanted memories made him dizzy.

He remembered everything that happened after Liv had brought him back from the dead and brainwashed him. It was blurry and it all seemed like some horrible nightmare. But the difference was that he knew it was real.

“Hey, Sasha. How are you? Hey, are you okay?” Devin asked.

Sasha remembered how they had abused him, stolen his powers, how much it had hurt when they did so, like someone was slicing his organs into pieces from the inside.

“You okay?” Devin asked again, and he touched Sasha’s arm with a gloved hand.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

Sasha’s eyes darted in every direction, trying to find the quickest way to the exit. The entrance door wasn’t too far, but there were just so many people. Damn it. He cursed Phil and Lili’s popularity now. And Phil’s uncle and his blatant disregard for the legal drinking age.

“Oh come on,” Devin was saying, “it’s not like I’m gonna do anything here.”

“Why are you here anyway?” Sasha snapped.

“I saw the event on facebook.” Devin shrugged. “I used to be coach at your school, I’m still friends with some people that go there, you know.”

Sasha felt warm, too warm, and it reminded him of whenever he was about to use his powers. It was as if his powers had a life of their own, and remembered how Devin had stolen them. Sasha wanted to use them. He wanted Devin to burn. To suffer.

But he didn’t. Devin couldn’t do anything here, and Sasha couldn’t either.

“Sasha, listen, I want to apologize.”

Oh God. What the fuck? What the actual fuck? Apologize?

“You know what, Devin? ‘Too little, too late’ would be the understatement of the century in this situation.”

Devin ignored that. “I saw your boyfriend earlier. With a chick. Trouble in paradise?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Sasha hissed.

Sasha wouldn’t admit that he had been thinking about Nick, too, at the back of his mind. If Nick had indeed seen Devin earlier, and hadn’t done anything about it, that was just… Sasha’s hands clenched into fists. Where was the guy who had slashed Devin’s hand because he was hurting Sasha? Where was the guy who had risked his life to kill Liv so that Sasha and all the others could be free from her brainwashing? He wouldn’t admit that he wished Nick could be that guy again right now.

But no one was coming to help him. He was alone.

“Let’s go outside,” said Sasha abruptly.

He made his way to the front door, uncaring that he was elbowing people in the process, and without looking back to see if Devin was following. He knew he was following.

They stumbled out of the bar and Sasha shivered as he remembered it was weirdly cold for May tonight. And he didn’t have his hoodie. The dark sky was heavily clouded and the air felt like it was going to rain. Sasha was stepping away from the bar.

“Where are we going?” Devin asked.

“Somewhere quieter.”

Sasha walked for a minute, then slipped between two buildings and stood on a thin strip of pavement. When Devin joined him, Sasha grabbed his stupid black dress shirt’s collar and threw him against the cement wall roughly.

“What do you want, huh?” Sasha glared at him. He deliberately channeled his powers in the hand that was still gripping Devin’s collar.

“Shit you’re burning me!” The skin on Devin’s neck was starting to turn red. He desperately clasped at Sasha’s arm, trying to free himself. But Sasha’s arm was burning hot as well, so Devin couldn’t keep his hands there too long.

“Aw, I’m so sorry,” said Sasha.

“Fuck, stop it! I wanted to apologize, okay?” Big black eyes stared at Sasha insistently.

But Sasha didn’t care. As he looked into Devin’s eyes, all he could see were the eyes of the man who had hurt him so badly.

And even now, Devin was trying to use his ‘thief’ abilities to pull at Sasha’s powers and take them for himself. Sasha could feel it. But he was prepared. He’d been practicing, studying his mother’s journal extensively. He had perfect control over his powers now.

“You can’t do that.” Sasha shook his head. “Not to me. Not anymore.” And his hand closed into Devin’s throat, unyielding, too hot for comfort.

“S-Stop! St—”

But then he died. Devin’s body suddenly went limp and Sasha let go of him, shocked. He looked around, heart beating like crazy, but he saw no one. What the hell was going on? Even though he had let go of Devin, he was still pinned to the wall. But he wasn’t moving. And his eyes were dead. Sasha let out a gasp as he saw that blood was spreading across Devin’s chest and stomach. Red drops trickled down and stained his blue jeans.

Sasha nearly had a heart attack when someone just appeared right next to him in a cloud of black smoke. A slim figure in a black hood, holding a massive scythe. When the hooded person pulled the scythe’s blade out of Devin’s chest, Devin’s lifeless body went tumbling down on the pavement. Sasha gasped and stepped back, until he was leaning against the opposite wall, planting his palms flat against the cold brick like he wanted to disappear into it.

And at once it started to rain, really hard. In the distance he heard young, drunken people squealing, and others were laughing. A girl with a particularly shrilly voice shouted, “Let’s go back inside!”

Sasha was immediately soaked. It was like taking a shower. Dark blonde strands of hair fell in his eyes and he pushed them away. The water was mixing with Devin’s blood in the tiny alley, creating a red puddle.

The scythe dropped to the floor with a metallic clang, and then disappeared.

Sasha looked up with a start as the hooded figure turned around. And Sasha recognized the pale blue eyes underneath the black hood.

“Cyan!” Sasha put a hand against his chest. “You scared the crap out of me.”

“Not literally, I hope,” Cyan said in his exaggerated British accent. “Do you like my new scythe? Brilliant, isn’t it?” He spoke loudly to be heard over the pouring rain. “Next time you want someone dead, little fox, you call me, yeah? Don’t try to do it yourself, mate. I’m a Reaper. The police ain’t coming after me.”

“How did you find me? Why—? How did you—?” Sasha ran shaky fingers through his wet hair clumsily. “You killed him.”

“And I’d do it again. Listen, we need to get you out of here.”

Cyan took off his hood, then took off his black cloak completely and put it on Sasha’s shoulders instead.

“You’re shaking, little fox.”

Sasha threw him a glance. Cyan was swathed in skin-tight black clothes from head to toe, and he wore black combat boots. The only hints of color were a massive silver buckle belt, blue chain around his neck and gray fingerless gloves.

“W-What about you, you’ll be cold.” But as he said this Sasha pulled the cloak tighter around himself. It was soft and warm.

Cyan reached out and slid the hood over Sasha’s head.

“I’m already dead. Who cares if I’m cold?”

His long pale blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail. A very wet, dripping ponytail now. Cyan threw his arm around Sasha’s trembling shoulders. And he led the way.

They walked side by side and Sasha didn’t look up much from under the hood so he had no idea where they were going. All the buildings looked the same in the dark and in this rain. He only got an idea of where they were when they reached 5^th Avenue. They were walking toward Central Park.

A huge green truck drove by a little too close to the sidewalk and splashed water all over Cyan.

“Bloody hell,” he said.

Sasha laughed. He didn’t really know why he was laughing.

Cyan looked cross. “Oi, don’t be laughin’ now. I might be dead, but my clothes can still get dirty.”

They reached Duke Ellington Circle, walked around the statue and sat in the paved stone steps, under the trees. Even though the trees were lush and green they didn’t provide much cover from the pouring rain.

“Can other people see you right now?” Sasha asked, glancing to the side. “Or do I look like some idiot sitting all alone in this crazy rain?” He pulled the hood over his forehead.

“Don’t worry, other people can see me. Don’t feel so privileged. Feel free to consider that we look like two idiots sitting in this crazy weather. I’m sure it’ll clear up soon though.”

Some of Cyan’s blonde hair had come free from the tie and framed his face in long wet strands. Sasha didn’t even know why he’d asked that question. Some people occasionally walked by on 5^th Avenue with their umbrellas, but they were in such a hurry that Sasha doubted they paid much attention to the statue or the people that sat around it.

“Why did you kill him?” Sasha asked.

Cyan looked up at the sky, letting the rain drops stream down his face. “You were going to,” he replied.

“I…” Sasha felt a sharp pang in his chest. “I didn’t mean to. You should’ve just stopped me.”

“It’s fine, little fox. He was stalking you. He would’ve never stopped. He would’ve got round to stealing your powers again, or sleeping with you again, or both. Devin Cook had a sick obsession with you.”

Sasha shuddered violently, and Cyan glanced at him sideways with pale blue eyes.

“How did you know he was stalking me?” Sasha asked.

“Maybe I stalked you too,” Cyan admitted with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Just a little.”

Sasha took in Cyan’s fingerless glove and black nail polish and thought it looked stupid.

“Why are people stalking me? Is my life really that interesting? Because I didn’t get the memo.”

“Don’t get angry, little fox.”

“I’m not angry!”

Cyan arched an eyebrow.

“And stop calling me little fox. I’m taller than you, for fuck’s sake.”

Now Cyan looked offended. “You are not! We’re the same height.”

“Because I’m wearing sneakers and you’re wearing these big, weird…” Sasha looked down at Cyan’s massive black boots, not knowing what to call those. Those surely gave him at least two more inches. “Wannabe Goth boots,” he finished.

Cyan joined his hands together. “I think we’re straying a bit here. Listen, Mister Reed, your life is interesting. Stop being emo. That’s so 2007.”

“Now I know what Nick meant,” Sasha said, “when he told me you never get to the point.”

“That’s because you impatient young Americans never let me finish.”

Sasha rolled his eyes under the hood. “Please do finish.”

“The reason I stalked you a bit was to make sure you were okay,” Cyan admitted. “And also I wanted to hear you sing tonight.”

“You were there?”

“Sure. I really liked it, too. Well, your guitarist is kind of…”

“Phil’s just trying his hardest, leave him alone,” said Sasha.

“But I thought your voice was so lovely!” Cyan glanced almost timidly toward Sasha. It wasn’t raining as hard now, but big drops of water still trickled down from the leaves and fell on their heads. Sasha had his hood, but Cyan looked a bit like a wet puppy. A blonde puppy wearing skin-tight black clothes.

Sasha felt a warm tingle. That kind of thing was always nice to hear.

“Thanks,” he said. But he couldn’t bring himself to smile. Not right now.

“Oh, before I forget. Happy eighteenth birthday, little fox.”

Sasha frowned. “How do you even know? Were you spying on me and Gabriel last night? That’s not cool.”

Cyan shrugged helplessly. “I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not.” He didn’t look sorry. Suddenly Sasha gasped. “Oh my God. Are you the one who ate the rest of the brownies? That’s so not cool! With Gabriel we were arguing this morning that neither of us had eaten them and we almost got into a fight!”

“I’m sorry! I really am. But they were so delicious. I couldn’t help myself.”

Sasha shook his head in disbelief, and there was a bit of a silence.

“All right,” Cyan took a deep breath, “now, I want to tell you something. I know Nicky’s shagging girls now, and you must be really confused and upset.”

Sasha winced, almost like Cyan had hurt him physically. He looked as far away from the Reaper as possible, settling his gaze upon the fancy condo buildings looming high up in the night sky.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sasha said, “not with you.”

“Well, who are you going to talk to, pray tell? Gabriel? You’re his adoptive brother, and Nicky’s his biological brother. It would be weird, and you know it.”

He had a point, but Sasha just crossed his arms stubbornly and sniffed. His nose was a bit runny.

Cyan took a tissue out of his pocket and handed it to Sasha. “Here.” When Sasha took it rather hesitantly, Cyan rolled his eyes. “It’s clean.”

“I’m not crying, by the way,” Sasha said without looking at him. “It’s just allergies.”

Cyan crossed his thin legs, placing one boot over the other. “I know you’re probably angry. Angry at Nick, angry at the world… And that’s why you were perhaps a little too eager to hurt our friend Devin Cook—not that he didn’t deserve it, but—”

“That had nothing to do with Nick,” Sasha said defensively. He shifted his weight, placing his hands behind himself for support. He was starting to find these stone steps rather uncomfortable.

“You see,” Cyan said, “sometimes teenagers and young adults can be quite confused when it comes to their sexuality. Sometimes they need to experiment, to go through phases…”

“Cyan. Shut up.”

“I know what it’s like,” he continued anyway, “I’ve had intense crushes before. I’ve even been in love. And so… Anyway, I know what that’s like, all right? I get it. It’s hard to describe, but…” Cyan placed a hand against his neck, black finger nails scratching his collarbone in a nervous manner. “It turns you into a living mess of emotions. Like waves of uncontrollable emotions attacking you and you can’t get away—can’t get free…” He was still scratching his neck.

On a whim Sasha grabbed Cyan’s hand. He had time to feel the leather of his glove and the softness of his pale skin before he let go.

“Don’t scratch your skin like that.” Their eyes met. Sasha cleared his throat. “Does Raven make you feel this way?”

“No, not at all.” Now it was Cyan’s turn to be all defensive. Sasha repressed the urge to smile. Cyan was waving it off. “Raven’s a selfish asshole. I don’t care if he dies. I don’t care if he gets thrown in the Purgatory fires.”

“Uh-huh.”

It had finally stopped raining. The circle seemed so quiet all of a sudden.

“Told ya it would clear up,” Cyan said, pushing the wet hair away from his face.

Sasha suddenly reached out and hugged him. It was awkward at first, because Cyan was startled and he sort of froze. But Sasha didn’t care. He just kept holding him. He felt like it, even though it was out of character. Even though he didn’t even like Cyan. But right now he felt like hugging him—rather tightly, too. He could feel Cyan’s small waist, and the lean muscles of his back.

And then Cyan relaxed into it, his thin arms circling around Sasha’s back, squeezing just tightly enough, and it felt surprisingly nice.

“Cyan.”

“That’s my name, yes,” he said without pulling away, his head leaning against Sasha’s shoulder. “Well, not my real name, but—”

“How old were you when you died?”

“Nineteen.”

Sasha said nothing.

“It’s going to be all right, little fox. Nicky will come back to you. I’m sure. And if he doesn’t, you still have friends. You’re not alone. Friends are underrated, you know.”

They pulled apart. Sasha took off his hood, and ran a hand through his hair. It was messy, but it was almost dry. The same could not be said of Cyan.

Sasha cleared his throat. “Thanks for the,” he clutched the soft black fabric, “cloak thingy. I should give it back…”

“Oh, no. Keep it. I’ve got like twenty of those.”

Sasha looked at him, and noticed for the first time that he had some freckles on his nose and cheeks. They were hard to see in the dark, with just the lamppost’s yellowish glow, but Sasha saw them anyway, and it made him smile for some reason.

“You know, Cyan, you’re not that bad, for a Reaper.”

“Dark Angel.”

“Same difference.”