The Howling

Chapter Thirteen

        "So, demon," Reinard called out. He sat on top of a large, wooden crate, with Al standing close beside him. Villette leaned against the ship's railing beside him. They had moved on from the abandoned street and were now on an old fashioned ship, with black sails billowing around them as the salty sea sprayed up every time the ship rammed into a rocking wave. The sun shone down upon them. A woman was tied to the mast, thrashing against the chains that held her. When she opened her mouth to scream, a stream of fire spewed forth as if she were a dragon. "Do you have a name?" 

        The demon was regarding the fire demon as she continued to thrash. She shouted, her screams mixing with the sound of the crew working. Villette had been surprised when they stepped from the empty street and onto a ship filled to the brim with people. Until she realized they weren't people. Each of them wore different clothes but they all had the same face. They were all the same person, multiplied nearly fifty times and given new clothes each time. They were just another illusion the Howling created. 

        "I have many names," he finally answered, turning his back to the demon. She yelled at him but he ignored her. "Take your pick." 

        "We have to have something to call you," Villette said. 

        The demon turned his gaze onto her. She wasn't looking at him. She had her head tilted back and was watching the crew in the rigging, jumping from beam to beam or swinging expertly on ropes as thick as her wrist. But she could still feel his eyes on her. A shiver ran down her spine each time he looked at her. 

        She heard Al's armor clinking as he shifted. 

        "Well then tell me, little Villette," the water demon asked, his voice full of his trademark arrogance, "what comes to mind when you think of the ocean?" 

        Without her approval, her mind took her to the last time she had been with her parents, with her brother. As a family. They had been vacationing in San Francisco, just to see the sights, for no other reason than because their mother had the sudden urge to go. 

        That was the first time she had been on a pier, really. There had been shops and restaurants, all of them looking out over the bay. Water danced in the sunlight as they sat on benches, eating hot dogs and hamburgers, talking. Not doing anything else really. Just eating, talking, and watching the way the light reflected off the gently lapping waves.  

        That had been nearly three weeks before their accident. 

        "The pier," she answered without meaning to. The moment she realized she had spoken, she clamped her lips firmly shut and hoped he hadn't heard her. 

        But, of course, he had. "The pier huh?" There was that smug grin in his voice again. "I've always enjoyed piers." 

        "I fail to see what this has to do with your name," Reinard grumbled testily. 

        The water demon smirked. "Because you're not really using your imagination now, are you. I like Villette's choice. Piers. It had a nice ring, don't you think? It flows off the tongue." 

        Reinard rolled his eyes.  

        "Why don't we call you Titanic instead?" Villette snapped, meeting his gaze. 

        Piers winced. It might have looked as if the insult hurt him if he hadn't been smiling. "Ouch. I do believe I'm detecting some hostility little Villette." 

        Now Villette rolled her eyes. 

        "How much longer until we arrive?" Al demanded, coming to Villette's aid. "We have been on this boat for nearly fifteen minutes."