The Struggles of Dating a Demon [Completed]

Friends in Low Places

"Are other cities just as bad as this one, or are we special?" Mabel asked later that night, eyes on Aleron as he handed her a bowl of her favorite ice cream.

He settled into the couch next to her, curling an arm around her shoulders protectively. "Unfortunately, it is not this city alone. It is only concentrated here, as the door to Hell resides in your rural lands. Nevertheless, there is something amiss in Hell, and if it is not solved soon . . . I fear the consequences." He didn't elaborate, watching her warily instead, as if concerned she would start to cry again.

When he'd popped into Herman's office earlier, snarling and swinging his sword as he looked for an enemy, she'd had to explain to him (through light sobs) that she was fine, but emotionally unstable.

Which made him take her home and calm her down with a bubble bath and ice cream.

"And what about the weather?" she continued to prod, licking her spoon with a content hum.

He used his free hand to stroke soothing circles into her thigh, his eyes looking out her apartment window and into the starless night as if he could still see the dark clouds there (perhaps he could).

"I sensed no cruel intent, but I am unsure as to why it has chosen now to appear."

Mabel shifted until they were looking at one another clearly. "You say 'it' like you're talking about a person." The question went unasked, but Aleron understood.

"That is what worries me."

He remained stubbornly vague about the subject, only telling her not to worry. That, of course, only made Mabel worry more, but she did her best to stay silent.

If Aleron needed to tell her, he would. At least, she hoped he would.

***

The next day, Mabel was beginning to doubt her own thoughts.

Would Aleron tell her?

The clouds had only darkened further, and it started hailing around lunchtime. Paired with an absent Aleron, and Mabel felt an all-too familiar rock of anxiety form in her stomach. Whatever was going on, it couldn't be good.

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind did the power go out.

Fingers tightening around the edge of the store's front counter, Mabel began to chew her lower lip.

"Okay," she murmured, eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden darkness. Even with the many windows, the outside was growing darker by the second, which did nothing to help her. Fumbling for her cellphone, she cursed when her hand hit the object, knocking it to the ground and out of reach.

There was nothing to be done about that and Mabel blew out a frustrated sigh, resolving to find the candles and flashlights by hand.

No sooner had she fumbled her way to the backroom's doorknob did she notice another presence. It was too dark to make out much, but Mabel's instincts were screaming at her in such a way that she knew someone was there, and she knew it wasn't Aleron.

After being dragged to Hell and tortured, Mabel was feeling especially brave. "If you're going to murder, kidnap, or threaten me, could you at least wait until I find a flashlight or something?"

A pause, and then the room lit up, candles stacked on every surface; however, Mabel was more concerned with who, or what, she was looking at.

It was a woman, of a sort—her top half was a woman, anyway. The rest of her body was more serpent-like, with a long tail and scaly wings keeping her afloat above the floor.