Sterek Stories - A Collection - I

Summoning a demon - part 7

The C-word

De'rek is waiting. He drums his slightly too long fingernails on the table top, much to Eric'ha's annoyance. She has told him to stop four times already. Now she catches his hand with hers, nails first. The sudden pain makes him hiss, eyes ablaze. She just glares back at him. "Stop. That."

He scowls until she pulls her nails back, leaving four little crescent moons in the back of his hand that heal within seconds.

"You know you can just pop by on your own accord, right?" she says, not for the first time. "You go top side often enough as it is, with that weird coffee addiction of yours."

De'rek grunts, just like he did all the other times she brought it up.

"Or, here's an idea, you go over there, bring him a cup of coffee and ask him to finally make out with you!" The last bit is illustrated by Eric'ha flailing her arms over her head like an idiot. Like the idiot she is claiming him to be. "You're a demon, De'rek. Sex and sin is what we deal in. Hell, people summon you for the express purpose of sex!"

"And look where that has gotten me!" he roars suddenly, fed up with her goading him. She struck a nerve. Just two days ago some wannabe Satanist strung out on drugs had summoned him, looking to 'be filled in every orifice'. He was lucky she was high as a kite, so he could get out of there as quickly as possible without touching her too much. It's fine, he has learned to compartmentalise over the years. And he has figured out ways to deal with those kinds of summonings with minimal skin-to-skin contact. An illusion comes a long way, most often. Still...

"Not cool, babe," B'oyd admonishes from the kitchen where he is cooking them pasta for a late dinner.

Eric'ha makes a face, but she slumps back in her seat. "Yeah, okay, sorry. It was really low of Jennifer to get that image of you in your human form into circulation. Just because you didn't want to help her channel your demon powers into the annihilation of some poor backwater town doesn't mean she has to pimp you out for centuries to come."

"Whatever," Der'ek grumbles. "I deserved it."

Eric'ha rolls her eyes. "Here we go again," she mutters under her breath before she launches into a well rehearsed speech. "Yes, De'rek, you kinda suck at being a demon. Because you're too nice! Your only fault is being too trusting, hell, if that is even a real fault. You made a mistake when you trusted that bitch Kate, but you were so young back then! You were even younger than Boyd and I were when we ended up down here. It was a mistake, one that cost you dearly. You've already paid for that mistake, double and more. Peter shouldn't have punished you, not like he did." She takes De'rek's hand again, this time without nails puncturing his skin. "That stunt with Jennifer was just bad luck. You can't let it stop you from going after what you want."

De'rek uses his free hand to rub over his face, his eyes scrunched shut. "I should've known what she was doing. What they were doing. I've let them use me, both of them. I should've known better."

"Has Stiles asked you to do things for him?" B'oyd questions, putting plates with hot pasta in front of them.

De'rek shakes his head and mumbles thanks for the food.

"No cursing the ex-girlfriend with warts in inconvenient places? No obscure rituals that involve the saliva of a hellhound? No terrorising a rich uncle into a heart attack so he can get his inheritance a little early?" Eric'ha is laughing as she sums it up on her fingers, yet those are all things that have been asked of De'rek in the past decades.

"It isn't like that," De'rek argues. "Stiles isn't like that."

"Well, there you go!" Eric'ha declares with a flourish and takes a hearty bite of her food, considering the topic done. As if De'rek doesn't have to worry about anything, despite his experiences in the past. "Mm, honey, you've outdone yourself tonight. This tastes devilishly good!"