Daemnos: The Demon Souls Series #1

Chapter 7

Badrick sat silently on the spare chair in the corner of the BCR, watching as Reynolds paced with frustration, back and forth, over and over, and disturbing the Agent Commanders, much to their irritation.

Periodically he would turn and shout, "Where is he?" or "I'll hide him!"

And it wasn't until eleven a.m. that the cause of this behaviour finally stumbled in, swaying so much Badrick was surprised he could walk at all.

"What the . . . Are you hammered?" he asked.

"No . . . dizzy," was Zale's reply.

Reynolds' next shout was such a roar that it made several of the BCR agents jump in their chairs. "Where in the hell have you been!?"

"London," Zale grinned back.

"You're late! Very late!"

"Sergeant," Zale drawled, "a king is never late because he decides the time of his arrival—"

"This 'king' is going to get punched in the face if he doesn't stop being an arse and gets back to work."

"Yessir!" Zale gave the sergeant a sharp salute. Reynolds rolled his eyes, straightened his bright red uniform, and briskly hurried away, presumably, if Badrick had to guess, to punch a picture of Zale over and over.

With the laughter that had taken hold of him finally under control, Badrick took his hands away from his stomach to wipe away his amused tears. "What do you mean 'king'?" he asked. "What have you been doing?"

"I, my son, am a king in the art of seduction."

"Hahaahaaa, what!?"

Zale's eyes misted dreamily, and he raised a hand, stroking the air as if he could actually touch the memories. "One had dyed blue hair, the other had beautiful bright dyed red hair, and neither were shy. Neither were very Christian at all. Was awesome."

Badrick's laughter resumed, and he almost fell from the chair as his stomach convulsed.

"What's so funny?" Zale demanded.

"You got down and dirty with the Daemonium." When his partner frowned in confusion, Badrick elaborated, "One red, one blue. It's the Daemonium. I think you have issues."

The look on Zale's face was priceless. "Dayum!"

*

Wednesday took an age to come. Badrick didn't see Zale at all during the rest of Monday or Tuesday; the SpecOps operative was kept busy working with Malcolm, the jailor.

Badrick didn't mind. He knew some severe hardships were coming, and soon, so he was thankful for as much time to himself as he could get.

And though he got a little bored, he was able to kill several hours a day playing basketball in the grounds with Carla.

He was ashamed to say she completely kicked his arse.

But at least he got a good view of hers every time she pulled off a perfect slam dunk, and seeing her in sporty clothes was the best thing to happen to him since birth.

Eventually the four days ended, and Zale re-emerged, kicking his way out of one of the labs and draping his arm over Badrick's shoulders.

They were in one of the three recreation rooms. Badrick had been reading some kind of old fiction book about dragons when his partner barged in.

"Hello," Badrick greeted him, eyeing his exhausted form.

Zale gave a heavy sigh and looked him right in the eye, his face only inches away. "Phew . . . You ready?"