The Lamb and the Gray Battle

June 7, 2022

Brantley slouched in the diner booth. "I wish I had your freedom."

"Mine?" Evie said, clapping a hand to her chest. Her demon red eyebrows lifted halfway up her forehead. "I don't have any freedom."

"You listen to the music you want. You have a demon-hacked wifi scrambler."

"There's nothing special about that."

"Those are illegal," Brantley said, chewing his sandwich.

"No, they're not. Stores can't sell them, but if you know how to alter one, it's perfectly fine."

Brantley almost choked on the Reuben, he was laughing so hard. "That's a fine line you're walking," he said, stuffing the Reuben into his mouth. "Mom won't let me near any of that stuff."

"Jo is just trying to protect you." Evie said, "Gran is the worst jailer on the planet. I can't do anything with her around."

That wasn't what Dylan and his mother said. But then, Evie waved one finger at him and he started to smile.

"I don't resent you for having money," Brantley said, "but it's unfair. You wave your finger like a wand and can have whatever you want."

"That has nothing to do with money."

Brantley wanted to say bullshit, but he didn't think Evie would like that.

"Like I said, I don't resent you. I want to make it so everyone has the same rights and the same access you do. That's why I'm studying law. Well, poli sci right now. I've applied to several law schools in New York. Mom wanted me to study accounting, get my CPA, something miles from demon blood. God forbid the authorities start looking at our lineage papers. But I want to help people who have been persecuted over this whole demon mess. Who are still being persecuted."

Evie's eyes twinkled. "You're going to get writers like George R.R. Martin out of jail and make it legal for Harry Potter to be published here? I love that!"

George R.R. Martin had been released from prison six years ago and emigrated to USW. But Brantley muted the snicker.

"What about singers?" Evie cawed. "The West takes all of our best artists. I want Taylor Swift to come back to America, PC."

Evie started singing, got up and danced right in the middle of the diner. What was weirder, was the manager didn't say anything about her singing an illegal song in a public place. Brantley didn't usually like girls who were a little chubby, but Evie had no reservations. She shook her middle and waved her arms in the air. Evie's smile made Brantley giddy. He wallowed in her joy. The busboy and cook had nothing else to do, so they came to the dining room and clapped for her.

After Evie took her bows, she came back to the table and sat down.

Evie tossed her demon red hair over her shoulder before she said, "That's not a lucrative plan."

Brantley bobbed his head, tore into the sandwich again. "That's why I'm going to New York. If I can get into a major school, I can get into one of the big firms, one of the ones that King Ao Guang funnels money into. If I work for King Ao Guang, I'll have cash thrown at me."

"Yeah, because that's how he controls his minions now. He used to use fear, rip a person's head off with his bare claws," Evie said, "made sure the whole world knew it, got BoBo to paint the most horrid propaganda posters." Her blue eyes darkened. "But Ao Guang is practical. Money is easier."

Brantley snickered at her hypocrisy. He didn't think a demon lover could resent King Ao Guang. He thought all the demon-loving nuts worshiped him. Dylan certainly did. And she called Beelzebub BoBo. The red magpie was more duplicitous than she let on.

But the color red hadn't hypnotized him yet. He said, "Look, I need money, so I have to get into one of the big three: Harvard, Columbia, Yale."

"Sell your soul if you want to. It's your property," Evie said, sipping her tea. If her eyes hadn't just flashed, he would have believed her the meek girl with a tribe of innocent cats.

He straightened in the booth, adjusted his collar as if his T-shirt was a suit jacket. "Hate King Ao Guang if you want to, but I need this. I need to have a quality picture. Prove I'm an upstanding citizen and not some demon-loving hooligan." He mussed his long brown hair. Long hair was fine; rainbow colors were not. "I have to write an entry thesis, tell them why they should accept me."

He might need to get a side job. The trust fund covered his college studies, but he didn't know if it would provide for graduate courses. He didn't want to apply for loans. He didn't want anyone digging into his past.

"I figured I'd write about why Freddie Mercury, Gloria Estefan, Glenn Miller, why all these great musicians should be legal in PC."

Evie jumped up in her seat and started clapping.

As if on cue, Cashmere and Dylan returned, Dylan waving around a picture of Dan Radcliffe and Cashmere.