Little Demons (Demon Road fic)

1

After the cheap dye had washed out, Marion's hair had returned to its natural white. The colour had been present since birth and had earned Marion many weird looks and awkward conversations over the years. When she had turned 14 she had decided that enough was enough, she was going to dye it. She had stuck with blonde for a few years before trying black, then red and now she was about to re-dye it a chestnut brown colour; the most mundane colour she could find. When the dye had set and she had washed it out, Marion decided to eat out. She locked her apartment, if you could call it that, it was more of a room, and set off to her favourite 24-hour diner on the corner of her street. The neon sign flickered on the worn brick of Saint Street, proudly displaying an inviting message: "BURGERS it said. Marion shouldered the door open and slipped into her favourite booth in the back of the diner. Pia the waitress called to her as she passed.

"Same as usual?" Marion nodded and flashed her a thumbs up. The diner was empty bar a straight backed young man perched stiffly on the edge of his seat. Marion watched him with quiet curiosity until Pia came and set a plate in front of her.

"He's been here all night," Pia said. Marion looked at her and saw her watching the young man too. "He hasn't moved since six." She told her. Marion nodded thoughtfully. Pia leaned over and raised her eyebrows conspiratorially.

"If you ask me, he's probably a nutter. I see all types coming through here." Pia left Marion to her food and returned to the bar. The young man remained seated and almost perfectly still. Marion leaned forward over her food as she ate, straining her ears. Pia was washing up glasses, creating a splashing as she rinsed them and the man just sat there. Marion swore she could hear his heart racing. When her burger had been devoured, Marion dropped her greasy napkin on the plate and slid out the booth. She cast a curious glance at the young man, his face obscured by shadow in the dim diner lighting. She slowed her pace.

"Hi," She greeted him as she leant against his table. The young man's startled eyes jumped to her face, surprised by her presence. Marion waited, for him to say something, for Pia to go into the kitchen, for someone to smite her off the face of the Earth because of the length this moment seemed to be; it was actually causing her physical pain. A car zipped by on the street outside, the headlights flashing through the windows painting stripes of light across the diner. The young man jumped to his feet, panic evident on his face and he bolted out the door. Marion stared after him and turned to share a look with Pia who shrugged and shared her bemused expression.

"Definitely a nutter." Pia said. Marion left the diner herself and took a leisurely stroll to her flat. The stairs to her flat were old and worn and as Marion approached her floor she saw a person pacing up and down the corridor past her door. AS the person turned to come back her way Marion saw his face. It was the young man from the diner. Marion pressed herself into the stairwell and watched him pace. His form was tense, panic written across his face in harsh lines. He was taller than Marion had previously thought. When he turned back away from her she exited the stairwell and approached.

"Excuse me," she called. The young man whipped around and stared at her before taking a cautious step towards her.

"You, um... can you help me?" he pleaded, desperation seeping from his words. Marion watched him thoughtfully, part of her brain warning her she should be wary of him.

"How?" Marion let the question hang in the air between them. The man's eyes seem to widen even more.

"I'm, I'm looking for-" his words forced themselves out of his mouth and he looked horrified at himself.

"Looking for who?" Marion pressed. The man shook his head but his mouth kept speaking.

"For..." He squeezed his eyes shut as if it would stop the words. Marion leaned towards him, eyes on him, his shadow covered face pinched with fear and horror.

"A name." she prompted. His face screwed up as he shuddered.

"Marion Delling," he whispered. Marion took a step back, suddenly uneasy.

"Well that's me," she said, wary of what he'd do. The young man shook his head furiously.

"No, no, no, he has," her he waved his hands at his head, "white hair" He said. She stared at him incredulously, how did he know about her hair?

"That's me, my hair is white, this is dye," she said as she unlocked her door. "I think you should come inside." The young man gave her a watery smile and followed her in. She turned to lock her door behind them. "So why are you looking for me?" she asked him as the key clicked in the lock. Something heavy hit the back of her head and the world went dark.

Light filtered through black lines, white spots danced, liquid gold- Marion snapped awake, bolting upright. She was sitting on her bed, well, her mattress. She stood and noticed she was still fully clothed and that daylight shone through her window. How long had she been out for? The event of the previous evening flooded back to her. Indignation filled her and Marion stormed out of the bedroom into the rest of her flat. The young man was nowhere to be seen. As she scanned the room, Marion noticed a rock placed on the kitchen countertop and picked it up. It was definitely heavy enough to have been the object that hit her.

"Bastard," Marion muttered under her breath. The creaky floorboards alerted her to movement behind her and she turned to face the intruder. The young man stepped out her bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips. A sly grin slid onto his face as he leant against the doorframe, the embodiment of relaxed.

"I see sleeping beauty is finally awake," he drawled. Marion glared at Him, anger boiling in her stomach, and held up the rock.

"You try to brain me with a rock then waltz into my house, use my shower and-" she broke off staring at him in disgust. "IS that my towel?" She asked incredulously. "Oh, that's it! Out! Get out!" She unlocked the front door and gestured for him to go. He stayed put.

"I quite like it her actually, c'est charmant," he raised a singular taunting eyebrow. Marion lowered two threatening ones.

"Get out of my house," she warned, her voice dangerously low, eyes narrowing.

"No," came his reply. Keeping her foot holding the door, Marion reached to her waistband and pulled out something cold and metallic. Her gun. She clicked the safety off and pointed it at his head.

"Out." The young man straightened up, his hands by his ears. His eyes had turned serious but his grin was still there. That insufferable grin. Marion used the gun to gesture at the sofa. "Round the sofa," she said. He walked slowly from the doorframe round the sofa.

"This is ridiculous," he said.

"You should have thought about that before knocking me out and adding to my water bill," Marion snapped, motioning for him to leave.

"But I still need your help," he said as he shuffled past. Marion cocked her head.

"And you thought the best way to get it would be pretending to cry and then knock me out," Marion asked disbelievingly. The man raised his shoulder in an attempt at a sheepish shrug. Marion sniffed in disdain.

"Get out of my house, and you can keep the towel!" she hissed, ready to slam the door. The man jammed his foot into the door.

"I still need your help!" he called round the gap.

"Tough luck," Marion snarled.

"Please, I'll be good!" he warbled.

"No."

"Pleeeaaaaase!"

Marion sighed heavily in exasperation and let the door swing open. "Fine but remember who has a gun. And out some clothes on!" she ordered. A big smile crossed the man's face and he entered her flat hobbling.

"Thank God!" he exclaimed. "I think the door broke my foot." Marion watched him collapse onto the sofa cradling his foot, a pained expression painted on his face. Marion perched on her worn armchair and scrutinised the man. In the light of day Marion realised, with a hint of surprise, that the young man was good looking, no, he was very good looking. His chiselled jaw, knife edge cheekbones and blue eyes all added up to dashing good looks.

"So," Marion said leaning forward, elbows on knees. "What's your name and why do you need my help?" The man met her gaze.

"My name is Jamie Axl, and I heard that you want to kill me."