The Human Side (The Demon Side Series) (9 page)

Leaning up against the racks of condiments, I couldn’t wrap my head around why she would want to talk to me, let alone believe I could help her with anything. Peeking through the small glass window of the kitchen swinging door, I saw Gabriel outside talking to Amy.

Cautiously, as to not be seen by them, I snuck through the door and peered from around the corner of the front door of the restaurant. Wearing a pair of baggy sweat pants, rubber rain boots, and an oversized jacket, Etta paced on the side of van yelling at them both. As she crouched down by the rear tire, she pulled the rubber band holding her hair in a tight pony tail off before reusing it to make a sloppy bun on the back of her head. Seeing Etta so disheveled and distraught twisted the proverbial knife in my chest. My heart told me to simply go out there and talk to her, but all logic and reason left me once I saw her coming my way. Quickly, I hid behind the dividing wall of the lobby and kitchen.

“May I speak to Ramen, please?” Etta asked Maria, the other cashier on duty.

“Who?” Maria glanced at me as I shook my head no.

“Daniel. Daniel Ramen. You know, tall, skinny, pimple-faced white guy?” Being the sweet girl Maria was, she hadn’t caught on to Etta’s hostile tone.

“Oh, you mean Preacher. I’m sorry, he’s not in right now.”

“Preacher? Never mind. Can you let him know when you see him that Etta needs to talk to him?”

“Sure thing.”

I stood behind the wall for a few moments until Maria signaled the coast was clear. “What’s that about?”

“Nothing.”

“You didn’t knock her up, did you?”

“No! Look, I can’t explain, but can you cover the rest of my shift?” Before Maria had a chance to say yes or no, I bolted out of the back delivery door and into my car.

Racing toward Quantico, I called John on my cell phone, demanding he meet with me immediately. I waited at the gas station near the front gates of the base for an hour until he arrived. Before he put his vehicle in park, I jumped in the passenger seat.

“What is going on?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” John struggled with his words as if he were out of breath.

“Why is Etta seeking me out?”

“The veil is opening.”

“Impossible. I left. I kept my word to the point of hiding from her today.”

“Guess you weren’t the problem. The attacks are becoming more frequent, and with every one, she’s regaining her memory.”

“You told me you could handle this, John. What do I need to do?”

“Do what you have been doing. Stay away.”

“You can’t expect me to….”

“I have help, Rahovart. Tristan has been her shoulder to cry on, Gabriel’s been her watchdog, and I’ve been the sword at her bedside. We don’t need you.”

“What can Tristan do? He’s human. He can’t understand what she is dealing with. And how closely can Gabriel watch her if his attentions are on Amy? You can’t be serious. There has to be a better way for me to help, John.”

“I am serious. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.”

I exited the vehicle and watched as he drove off. The trip back to my motel room was a long and quiet one. I couldn’t stand to think of Etta being in danger with the three stooges as her guards. Not that Gabriel couldn’t handle his job, but he didn’t know about the distractions life here offered, and his relationship with Amy might be a huge diversion from his duties. Of course, since deciding to step back, I damned him to an Earthly form. I couldn’t blame him for getting wrapped up in his new life.

Feeling nauseated, my brain shut off all thoughts and turned on auto-pilot, sending me right into a sweltering shower. I had every intention of washing off the greasy film the burger stand left behind, but once the soothing heat of the water washed over me, I simply rested my head against the cool tiles of the wall. It hadn’t been long after that the mental dam I had built up over the past months broke, releasing a tidal wave of emotions.

In sadness I wept, in anger I punched the wall, busting open three knuckles. The pain seemed like a pin prick compared to the torture inside of me, leading me to wonder if I ever truly returned to Heaven, or had my Hell just changed its scenery?

Suddenly, a loud rhythmic thumping caught my attention. Unsure of where the sound came from, I shut off the water. I stood in the shower stall when the rapping on the door returned. Assuming it had to be the motel manager, I grabbed a towel, wrapped it around my waist, and opened the door.

“We need to talk,” Etta demanded as she lifted a duffel bag from the ground.

“Go home,” I said as I slammed the door in her face.

“Open the door,” she yelled as she continued to pound on it. Ignoring her, I put on my clothing and brushed my hair back.

“Ramen, open up. I’m not leaving.”

“That’s okay, because I am.” I opened the door and stepped out.

“Why won’t you talk to me?”

“I have nothing to say to you.” Trotting down the stairs of the motel, I hated myself for acting as if I didn’t care about what she needed.

“Go ahead, leave. I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Go home, Etta,” I hollered as I opened my car door.

“This is my home until you talk to me,” she yelled back.

Annoyed, I marched back up the stairs and grabbed her bag and her arm. Etta dug her heels down and gripped the wrought iron railing as I attempted to drag her to the bottom of the steps.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m taking you to your dad’s.”

“No. Let go of me, or I’ll scream.” Dismissing her warning, I threw her over my shoulder, and carried her down to my car. Once the passenger door opened, Etta released an ear splitting shriek, and I dropped her to the cold, wet concrete.

“Ow. My wrist.” Fearful I hurt her, I quickly knelt down trying to inspect her whole arm. The dim parking lot lamps of the motel hid any possible injuries. I scooped her up in my arms and carried her back to my room for a better look at her wrist. After I sat her on the sink counter, I rolled up her sleeve.

“Doesn’t appear broken. Does this hurt?” I asked as I bent her wrist.

“Ouch! Yes, that hurts.” Etta punched my shoulder.

“Relax. It’s just sprained.” I removed a cloth bandage from my first aid kit. As I wrapped it around her wrist, Etta kept lowering her head, trying to make eye contact with me. That didn’t bother me as much as the smirk on her face while her head weaved every direction I moved.

“Done. Now go home.” I pulled her by her waist off the counter. Before I moved away from her, she yanked my hand toward her.

“Your knuckles are bleeding.” Grabbing tissue, she wiped a trickle of blood from my hand. I must admit, the touch of her supple skin on mine stirred up all the emotions I’d tried to push down since leaving. As she applied ointment to my open wounds, a clump of her bangs fell into her eyes.

I pushed the strands behind her ear. The tips of my fingers traced her jaw. How desperately I wanted to pull her lips to mine. Her milk chocolate eyes rose, as a half-smile cracked along her face. She knew what I wanted at that very moment. As if my brain recognized what it was doing, I snapped my hand from her.

“Stop it!” she exclaimed as she yanked my hand back toward her. “I know what you’re doing. You think if you act like an A-hole I’ll leave. Well, it ain’t happening, so you can give up the act.” Etta continued as she wrapped my knuckles in a bandage. Just as I opened my mouth to reply to her accusation, we were interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Yay. Dinner’s here. Hope you like Chinese.” Etta bounced to the door, clapping her hands excitedly before returning with two white grocery bags.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d want so I got the usual suspects. We have fried rice, curry beef, house chow mein, and sesame chicken.” She removed each cardboard and Styrofoam container from the bag and set them on the round table next to the window.

“What are you doing, Etta?” I asked as I slumped in the chair across from her.

“Getting ready to eat, d’uh.” Etta pulled a plastic spork from the bag.

“You know that’s not what I meant. What are you doing here?”

“Food first, talking later.” She crammed a utensil full of greasy noodles into her mouth.

“That’s it. I’m calling your dad.” Reaching for my phone, Etta jumped up from the chair, spitting her half chewed food into her hands and slapping it down on a napkin.

“That’s enough! All I want is to sit and eat with someone who’s not going to grill me about my pills, look at me like I’m dying of cancer, or talk about me like I don’t exist. So shut up and eat!” Etta slammed back down in the chair and eagerly shoved yellowish beef into her mouth.

Maybe I should have ignored her rant and called John anyway, but a little voice inside me told me it would do more damage than good for her right now. Grabbing the other spork from the bag, I dug into the fried rice. By the second bite, I started to enjoy sitting with her in silence. Sharing dinner like an old married couple had been a fantasy of mine.

But as I tried each of the dishes, I wondered if it would be wise to apologize to her for calling her a bitch. I had apologized to everyone else about the wrong I had done them, except her. Seeing her content across from me, I couldn’t bring myself to ruin the moment.

All words went unspoken as we ate, until we were unable to take another bite. With our bellies full, we both leaned back in our chairs, allowing our stomachs room to breathe before Etta broke the silence.

“Do you have any kids?” If it weren’t for the fact I sat in the room, I would have assumed she asked her question to the ceiling by the way she stared at it.

“No.”

“At fifteen I found out I was pregnant. That’s when I knew I wasn’t crazy. I mean, how else can you explain a virgin getting knocked up, right? Thinking I had the proof I needed, I told my dad.” I sensed Etta building up to something, but what exactly remained unclear. I knew I would have to help her along to get it out of her.

“What happened when you told him?”

“What do you think he did? We got into a huge fight. He didn’t believe for a minute I got impregnated by some entity visiting me at night. I remember going into the kitchen to make a sandwich. My dad followed me in and stood next to me yelling in my face. I grabbed a knife to cut the crust off the bread. He says I threatened to stab myself. Before I knew it, he’s screaming for Rene to call nine-one-one, and I’m in a chokehold. I guess a lot of people would freak out about him putting his hands on me as he has in the past, but if they knew how my mother died, they would understand. Terrified of going back to the hospital, I freaked out and stomped on his foot as hard as I could and ran away when his grip loosened.”

“Where did you go?”

“I didn’t know how to drive, but for some reason I grabbed Rene’s car keys and took off in her Tahoe straight for Amy’s house, scraping a few cars in the process.” Etta nervously giggled.

Knowing how vulnerable sharing her past and baring her soul to me made her, I should have let her tell her story in her own way. But there was still so much about her I didn’t know.

“Why did you go to her house?” I asked, trying to dig deeper.

“She’s my best friend. Has been since we met in her dad’s office.”

“Office? Is her father a doctor?”

“Kind of. He runs the parapsychology department at Duke. My dad took me there to prove spirits, entities, and apparitions didn’t exist. That’s where I met Amy.”

“So, what happened when you got to her house?” I tried to put the conversation back on its original track.

“When I arrived, no one appeared to be home. So I sat in the car trying to figure out what I had to do. Going back home was out of the question, and since I had spent most of the year committed for multiple suicide attempts, I didn’t have many friends to call. As I sat crying my eyes out, I picked up a distinct rumble off in the distance moving in closer.”

“What was it?”

“My dad’s motorcycle. I knew that sound better than anything. Scared of what would happen, I threw the car in reverse to back out of Amy’s driveway and right into my dad, sending him flying into the windshield of a park car across the street. I jumped out to check on him, but I was too scared to get too close. Panicked, I hopped back in the car and left him. Despite our turbulent history, I love my dad more than anything.”

“And then?” I pushed her to continue.

“When I hit the freeway, I thought about how I killed the only person that cared about me, being pregnant with some Demon spawn, being crazy and what a mess I had made. Seeing no other options, I stepped on the gas pedal as far as it would go and turned into a concrete divider. When I woke up in the hospital, I had lost the baby, had one hell of a concussion, and a few broken ribs. My dad sat next to me with his hands around mine. With a look, I knew he had forgiven me for what I had done. He still loved me and would always stay by my side no matter the wrong I may do in this life. That’s the great thing about forgiveness. It doesn’t always have to be asked for. Just like you never asked for mine for hanging me out to dry with my dad, but I’m giving it to you anyway.”

It seemed as if she had read my mind as we ate. I contemplated apologizing to her, but now I didn’t need to. She had forgiven me for what I had done. Still, her forgiveness hadn’t distracted me from my pure anger. I always wondered what happened to her pregnancy with Alastor’s child. The story of her losing it during a softball game never fully jived with me, but the truth enraged me more than her lie. I wanted to wring her neck for even thinking ending her life and damning her soul to Hell. Suicide was for the weak sheep of the world, not for someone as strong as her. I wanted to rip into her for being so stupid when she jumped up from her chair and grabbed her small duffel bag.

“What are you thinking?” she asked as she pulled a pair of green fuzzy pajamas out. You can’t tell someone you’re thinking about slapping them, so I responded with the first thing that came to mind.

“I’m wondering why you would forgive me. I didn’t ask for it, and I don’t want it.”

“You’re such a horrible liar, Ra.” Hearing my given name pass her lips caused my heart to skip a beat. John mentioned she had been regaining her memory.
Does she know who I truly am
?