Thief's Honour

Chapter Eleven- A Drink with a Demon

At home, Madeleine locked her door with three different locks. She was finally home safe, and had no intentions of changing circumstances any time soon. She sat on her couch and curled up with a book, determined to be involved in nothing non-boring for the next week.

She turned her radio on, for background music. After about ten minutes, Devil by Shinedown started playing. She nodded her head in time with the music until, at the end:

So nobody move
cause I was sent to warn you-

"The devil's right beside you." A soft voice whispered menacingly in her ear.

Madeleine jumped, dropping the book and cursing. Was the Devil really here? How had he found her?

However, when she sprung to her feet, spinning around, the only person behind her was Damien, who was laughing so hard that his face was beet-red and he was gasping for breath.

"Th-that was even better than I hoped." He choked out.

She growled. "Yeah. Very funny. Make the lowly, expendable thief think she was caught and was about to be tortured and killed. She can't do anything to you, anyway," she snapped sarcastically.

"Lighten up." Damien grinned. "You passed the test. If you could get that jewel easily, the real job'll be a breeze." He flopped down onto the couch, leaning on one armrest and putting his feet up on the other.

She watched him warily, uncomfortably aware that he looked way more relaxed than the first few times he'd come. "So, I'm not in trouble and not going to die and be smited or smote or whatever?"

"Nah. I took care of it." He waved her concerns away.

She sat back down. "Are you trying to freak me out, or are you drunk?"

"Bit of both." Damien admitted. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to have anything good here, would you?"

She rolled her eyes, but went to the liquor cabinet hidden behind a famous van Gogh painting. "Scotch, whiskey, wine, beer..." she listed.

"Ooh! Scotch!" Damien grinned. "I like a good Scotch."

She poured him a full glass, and a half glass for herself. She didn't want to get drunk with a demon in the house. She held out the full glass, sitting in a chair across from the couch.

Damien took it, grinning. He drank the whole thing in five seconds flat, and held his glass out for a refill.

She obliged, sighing. This was gonna be a long evening. "Do you always drink until you pass out?"

He winked, almost flirtatious. "Only when I can get away with it."

"Right." She rolled her eyes.

There was silence for a few minutes. Then Damien piped up. "So, Maddie-"

"I don't go by Maddie. My name isn't even Madeleine." She cut him off.

He shrugged. "You didn't tell me any other name, so I'm calling you Madeleine Hart. And that's too long, so it's Maddie. Anyway, what's your story?"

"My story?"

"Yeah, why do you steal and live alone?"

She poured him another Scotch. By this time, he was drunk enough that every few sentences were already slurring, and if he stood up, he would probably be unsteady. She wanted to make sure he was drunk enough that he wouldn't remember this conversation.

"I grew up in foster care," she admitted. "I never knew my real family. I was moved from home to home, and I barely had any possessions, just to make transitions easier. Social Services made sure of it. Occasionally, I would stay in one place for longer than a month, and I wondered if I'd finally found my forever home. Then I would move again, and I knew. I would never have a forever home."

"Harsh." Damien winced.

"By fifteen, I was stealing money from every family I lived with. Ten bucks here, twenty bucks there, fifty sometimes if they were upper middle-class. I finally ran away at sixteen. I had enough money to survive for a while, but life on the streets is hard, especially for a teen. I kept stealing to survive. I was very good at it."

"So I've noticed." Damien replied dryly.

"I eventually got better," she continued, "and that's when I was noticed by a very powerful crime boss. I actually ruined a heist that one of his thieves was stealing, by stealing the goods first." Damien laughed, at that. "He recruited me and paid me tons of money for it, enough that I've stayed with him, and stolen billions of dollars worth of jewels, money, gold. You name it, I've stolen it at some point. It got to the point where I had to get new identities every month. One of my aliases is even mid-range on Interpol's most wanted list."

Damien whistled. "Wow. When'd you get caught?"

She smirked. "I didn't. I'm allowed to steal stuff for myself as well, as long as it doesn't interfere with my boss's operations. I confessed to stealing Starry Night via letter to the news station. Used a fake name, and snuck into the local cop HQ and destroyed all their evidence against me."

Damien snickered. "I think I was right when I chose you to be my thief." He slurred.

"Why do you need me?" She asked, taking advantage of his drunken state. "What is so important that you need to steal it, but out of reach enough that you can't do it yourself?" She leaned in close.

"Dad wants us to... it's either me or her. Doesn't care which one gets it, but whoever does will be in his favor." He whispered.

"What is it?" She asked again, slightly impatient.

"It's a-" Damien passed out before he could finish the sentence.

Madeleine growled in frustration. Of course, he would faint in a drunken stupor at the wrong moment. She had been that close. That was her best and probably only chance to find out.

Sighing, she lifted him up by the torso, which was very difficult because he was very heavy, and dragged him to her bedroom. Guys of any species had a tendency to get pissed off when they woke up hungover on the couch, so it was never a good idea to just leave them there. Once in the bedroom, she dropped him on the floor, pulled the covers back, pulled him onto the bed, and covered him.

Then she pulled a blanket from her closet, and went to sleep on the couch. Because sharing beds with drunk guys was even worse.