The Demon's Daughter

Chapter Two - Reunion

Chapter Two – Reunion

I was shaking in the passenger seat of our car.

I knew it had nothing to do with the cool wind coming in from our windows; I knew it had nothing to do with the coolness of the blade pressed against the skin of my arm. Yet ever since Joshua gave me the dagger, and I carefully slid it into the sleeve of my sweater, I couldn't stop feeling unnerved.

I've carried sharp, dangerous objects before; at Grandma's house, I'd learned to sleep with pocket knives just in case some wild, hungry animal decided to roam into our farm and search for something other than strawberries to eat. I wasn't nervous around the dagger – in fact, the snug way the end of the handle was tucked into the crook of my arm was comforting; it made me feel safe, whole.

But something had changed.

Mom's bitten down nails tapped on the steering wheel; an old habit she had lost last year, when we left Dogwood and thought we were never coming back. She was always antsy in the city; she never went a few minutes without glancing over her shoulder, even when we were in the safety of our own home.

“He seems different,” I tried to be casual.

“Joshua?” Mom said. “He never changes.”

“How long have you known him?” I asked her.

Mom frowned at the street ahead of us. I didn't usually ask questions about her past, unless it involved my father, who she didn't like talking about. I figured that he was a cheater; a bad person she didn't want her only child spending time around.

“Gods, I'm not sure,” Mom finally said, and slowed the car. We were getting closer to our old home; I could see the baby blue brick from where I sat. “I think our parents were friends before we were even born. Why do you ask?”

“No particular reason,” I lied, shrugging.

“If you're trying to find out something interesting about him, you're wasting your time,” Mom laughed. “He's the most boring person you'll ever meet.”

But that wasn't true, because he caught my interest after only a few short minutes. And I couldn't help but wonder if Mom knew about the side of him that I saw for myself.

She pulled our car into the parking spot in front of our old home. The building was a little shorter than the rest, with little balconies attached to each floor. When rich people would pass by, they would use words like “charming” and “cozy”, which I only learned recently meant “small.”

“Isn't this great?” Mom said, smiling up at our blue building. “It's like we never left.”

XxXxX

“Why don't I just stay home for the rest of the week?” I suggested over breakfast.

Mom and I were sitting on our small round table, both clutching hot chocolate between our hands. The sun was just beginning to come up, and a bit of light peaked through our dark red curtains. We were surrounded by boxes that had yet to be opened, and the bare walls of all the rooms looked weird and creepy to me every time I turned on a lamp.