Demon Stories

Beau: Wandering Streets, 1869, Japan

The meeting of these professors was the true reason why I had brought Cheol with me. Unlike me, Cheol could transform her looks and appear to be anyone she wanted. Her favorite guise was to appear to be a Western man in his sixties, perfect for this purpose. 

When I had propositioned her, she had given me a sideways look. "You want me to be Mr. Crane? How mysterious. You want me to go where?" Her face had whitened when I told her we needed to go to Japan. But she swallowed this, and she merely nodded. We had traveled for weeks, and now here we were. 

"Where is he? Where did you hear he is?" she wanted to know as we walked along. 

"You will see. Its not far," I told her, observing two pretty maiko walking along and giggling behind their hands about whatever it was they were talking about. Something stirred in me, another flashback flooding my brain with images. I saw a young, beautifully elegant man looking at me with such wonder and precious newly born love dressed in clothing from over two hundred and fifty years ago. This young man, smiling at me shyly, too shy to ask for more tea, so I poured him some more and he blushed, looking away from me. My body flushed with the familiar feelings of wanting to pounce on him like a cat, not caring about anyone in the room or the party going on. 

"You're blushing," Cheol stated, her silver eyes unwavering in her gaze. 

"Those girls were pretty," I lied.

Cheol made an amused sound with her nose. "Since when do you like girls," she said under her breath, unfolding my lie. "Are you following his scent?" she asked. 

I nodded, blushing more. She knew so much without me telling her, her demon way creeping me out even still. Even as a demon myself, it was still unsettling the things others could do. 

"He's going to smell you, too, you know," she said. I shuddered again. 

"That is why you will carry my scent, to confuse him," I informed her. 

"How will I do that?" she asked, skeptical. 

It was here I would put part of the plan to action. I took her wrist, which she jerked away just as soon as I had tugged her into an alley. "You do not touch me this way," she growled angerily, "you touch women this way. You will tell me to come with you."

"Sorry," I said, bowing my head a little bit. She looked at me neutrally as I took a small knife out of my obi, and took a small bit off the tip of my hair with it. In one swift movement, I took a small string out of my obi as well, and tied the small bit of hair into a little bundle. I handed her this bundle, and she took it and put it in her interior suit jacket pocket. 

"Hopefully he is fooled this easily," she said, perhaps unaware she had been insulting. I took this as punishment for having taken her wrist. But then her nose crinkled just slightly, and she looked sharply to the left and stared. Her movements were like a crow who has found the scent of prey. 

My eyes widened in shock.

"This scent," she said softly, confused.