Thief's Honour

Chapter Twelve- Tempers Lost

Madeleine woke up long before Damien did. She was careful not to wake him as she crept into the bedroom to put the blanket back in her closet, although there were a few close calls.

Silently sneaking back into the living room, Madeleine continued to the kitchen. She made herself a cup of tea, and also started an herbal blend that helped with pain from serious injuries, muscle cramps and most headaches, including hangovers. She figured that Damien would refuse to drink it, automatically assuming that it was just tea, but that wasn't her fault. She'd have tried.

When the blend was finished, she poured it into a thermos to keep it warm. Then she went back into the living room, grabbed her book and drank her tea.

She was interrupted from her book almost one hour and two cups of tea later by cold metal cutting the skin on her throat.

"Put down the book and tea. Slowly." Damien snarled, from behind her.

She dropped the book and slowly set down the tea, raising her hands in surrender. "What's the problem?"

"What did you do to me?" He snapped. "What the hell was I doing in your bed? Why can't I remember anything after having a drink with you?" His voice wavered, and he didn't just sound angry. He sounded...

Scared. Like he thought something bad, or something important that he needed to know happened, and couldn't think of it.

"You wanted a drink." Madeleine reminded. "I gave you Scotch, as many refills as you asked for. You drank through all of it, and eventually passed out."

"Did we discuss anything?"

"Nothing relevant," She lied.

He removed the knife after a moment, apparently believing her, and sheathed it. Then he sat beside her on the couch. "Did I... did we..." He looked at her again, not needing to finish his sentence, this time nervous and slightly embarrassed.

She shook her head. "I slept on the couch. And got up a while ago."

"What happened last night?" He asked suspiciously.

"We were talking, then you passed out. I dragged you to the bed, 'cause most people I know hate it when they get drunk and wake up on the couch." She reassured him.

He nodded. "Okay. I just-" he put his head in his hands. "I feel awful."

"Hangover?" She guessed.

He nodded, looking sheepish. Then he winced, and moaned.

Madeleine stood up, went to the kitchen, poured the still-hot herbal blend into a mug, returned to the living room, and handed him the mug.

Damien took it, but wrinkled his nose when he saw what it was. "I don't drink tea." He looked at her scornfully.

"Neither did the Swedish Prime Minister, but he was sure happy to have it in one morning after a really wild party." She shrugged, not offended. "If you don't want it..." she held out a hand to take it back.

He pulled it close to him protectively, glaring at her, and grudgingly took a sip.

She grinned. A demon's territorial tendencies rarely allowed them to return anything without using it, and that meant he actually had to drink. "Well?"

He frowned, and took a larger drink. "What is this?" He asked.

Madeleine smirked. "Natural painkiller. Way more effective than morphine, and guaranteed to cure hangovers."

He gazed at the cup in wonder. "How much do you want for fifty gallons of this?"

She shook her head. "Been a secret among my people for centuries. Not for sale."

"Spoilsport." He grumbled. "I could've really used it. You would be fairly- even generously- compensated." He gave her an earnest, innocent look that almost convinced her to change her mind.

Unfortunately for him, she wasn't wasn't that stupid, and therefore wasn't gonna budge. "Fair?" She snorted. "Your kind are famous for turning people's deepest desires into their worst mistakes. You may give them what they want, but you find every loophole possible until they don't even know why they ever were stupid enough to trust you."

Damien looked genuinely wounded, or at least looked actually upset. "We're not always like that. I've done fair deals before. Many times."

Madeleine cocked an eyebrow, sipping her still-warm tea. "You need me to steal something. So, you sought me out, probably stalked me, attacked me, forced me into submission and threatened me. Then you set me an impossible test-"

"-which you pulled off just fine." He interrupted.

She ignored his interruption. "You set me an impossible test, threatened to kill me if I failed-"

"I didn't say that!" He defended.

"You implied it!" She retorted.

"Okay, maybe I did." He admitted.

"Yeah. Anyway, you set my couch on fire, stole a diamond right in front of my face, gave me a very short deadline for the test and an insane amount of pressure-"

"Gimme some credit. I also gave you schematics to the room where they keep the jewel and a way into Hell." Damien cut her off again. "And technically you wouldn't have thought of or known how to forge my writing without that note."

"That note was you taunting me, telling me that you were watching everything I did!" Madeleine snapped.

Secretly, she felt empowered by his hungover state. It felt good to finally tell him exactly how she felt, a luxury she wouldn't have been brave enough to attempt if he had been at full strength. Or anything less than hungover, probably slightly disoriented and only recovering quickly because of her.

Damien opened his mouth, like he wanted to argue. Then he closed it.

"Exactly. You can't even deny it." She growled.

Damien sighed. "Okay, okay. You're right. I may have been a little forceful in recruiting you-"

"A little?" She scoffed.

"It's just... this is really important to me. I really need to get this. And you're the best one available. I need you." He admitted.

She shrugged. "You could've asked nicely."

"I don't ask nicely."

"You could learn some humility."

"That would go against everything I've been taught."

"Working for arrogant, self-obsessed bullies who try to force me to work for them without sabotaging them is against MY code." She countered. The Boss didn't count.

Damien glared at her. "Were you planning on sabotaging me?" He growled.

"I never said that," She replied, "But threatening me isn't the best way to earn my loyalty."

He snarled. "I don't need your loyalty. I just need you to do this."

"Maybe earning my loyalty is the best way for us to work together." She suggested.

"Maybe I don't care." His eyes started glowing. "Maybe I'll kill you very slowly if you make a mistake. And I think," he grabbed her throat and slammed her into the wall, "that you should be more scared of me."

Madeleine tried to inhale; but her throat was constricted. She struggled, tried to kick him, tried to get free. Black spots danced across her vision. Damien eventually calmed down, and released her just as she felt that she was about to faint.

She slid down the wall, gasping, taking huge gulps of air. She choked on the oxygen briefly, but didn't care. She was just relieved to be alive. Relieved that Damien still needed her. That he wouldn't kill her.

Yet.

When she was strong enough to concentrate on more than breathing, she looked up. He was gone.

She sighed. She should've known better than to antagonize him. He wouldn't care that she'd helped cure his hangover. He probably considered his failed attempt at 'reason' gratitude enough.

When she looked in a mirror, she found bruises around her neck where Damien had grabbed her. She cursed herself for losing her temper, and vowed to steal whatever Damien wanted quickly, and be free from him forever.