Iris

Chapter Three

"It will have blood, they say; blood will have blood."

~William Shakespeare

***

It was a pale, grey day when I left the house. I wanted soft serve, but I didn't want soft serve. I felt like throwing up, and I sort of felt like punching something, and I also sort of wanted to fix my window where some demon busted it in.

I should be used to demons destroying my houses, but I'm not, and you can't blame me, because I don't think anyone should have to get used to that.

The first time, they wanted to destroy my people. There have been other close shaves, but it was only a week ago when they finally found me for me, Phoenyx, Prince of Canem. Before they thought I was dead. Now they knew for sure that I was not. And the draft from the window gave me a headache.

There are a lot of things that give me headaches. Liars. Humans. Humans who are liars, because I tell them not to, and they lie to me anyway, as if they think I can't tell the difference.

I should have been able to tell the difference with August. That I couldn't made me feel shameful. Then again—what of it? What was I to do? If Iris hadn't found me in the five thousand years we had been separated, we most likely would never meet again. She might be alive—but there are several different types of living.

The soft serve vendor in town was really good; it was why I'd kept the house at all. It was drafty, leaky, and lop-sided, but none of it mattered because the town's soft serve was as close to magic as you could get this side of the dimension.

The old man behind the counter almost made me pass by; I was almost certain that he had been there fifty years ago when I came through, but then I glanced at myself in the reflection of the window, and I knew he wouldn't recognize me.

I didn't recognize me.

Entering, I sent the bell dinging and approached the counter. The shop was silent except for the humming of freezers and fridges. The man looked up, frowned, then said, "Bad day?"

In reply, "Soft serve. Half-and-half."

"Size?"

"How big have you got?"

"Bad day." Not a question this time, "What's it?"

He had the sort of language tone that made me think second-generation, and I slid onto a stool to sit at the counter and stare at the bulletin board with all the flavors while he whipped it up. He was good; it didn't take long. Sliding it to me, I picked it up, and the stuff was so good it melted in my mouth like heaven.

Swallowing, I watched the people walking out on the sidewalk. I finally told the man, "Family stuff."

"I hear you." The man wasn't lying.

"I'm an orphan." I told him, because he hadn't lied, "But I only recently learned that I have a living sister."

"Where?" The guy asked, but in the gruff way that said answer or don't answer, I'm still going to be here for my nine to five.

"Who knows?" I snorted, "There's no way we could ever find each other now." Not only could Iris be anywhere in the world, anywhere in the human plane, she could be in any of the infinite demonic dimensions that existed. It would be like searching for a needle in a black hole.

"Well," The man gave me a look that was slightly disapproving, "there's only the rest of your life and the rest of the places you haven't searched." He ducked into the back. I might have been the sort of guy that left without paying, but I think he knew better and that was why he chose not to.