Dream Eater (m|m)

Chapter 16

I meet a bunch of people over the next several days, most of whose names I fail to remember. Apparently, they're what's left of Sakariel's closest allies in this realm. 

Maybe it's the fact I know it was an ally of some sort that betrayed him, but I don't like any of them very much.

The feeling seems mutual. I catch more than a few whispered arguments about 'unclean souls,' and 'demonic pollution,' and by lunchtime on the third day, I've had enough.

"Damien, why are you making me meet these people?" I ask. "They clearly don't want to meet me."

"They do," Damien assures me. "Heavenly Keys are rare, and usually aeons pass between one occurrence and the next. To have found even a piece of one gives them hope."

"Well, don't let them get their hopes up too much, because I'm no hero or leader or whatever-the-fuck your dead angel was. I'm demon trash, and as soon as I get the opportunity, I'm out of here."

He doesn't say anything for a moment. When he goes on, it's with the patient air of a parent dealing with a cranky child. "We need their protection, Alex. We might have asylum here for now, but things change. The knowledge that you carry part of a Key will incline them to our favor."

"So you're using me?" I ask, and contemplate exactly how angry I should feel.

He sighs. "Let's go out. I know your vision hasn't completely returned, but the fresh air will do us both good."

I consider being difficult for the hell of it but then decide that a walk actually sounds nice.

We wander the city streets, and while I can't see clearly, my vision has improved enough that the world looks kind of like an Impressionist painting. I can see colors, shapes, shades of dark and light. The sounds and smells are interesting in their own right, and I make Damien stop and describe stuff to me almost constantly.

I gather that the city is a strange mix of ancient and modern. There are something like electric lights, but everyone goes about either on foot or by the boats in the canals. The economy is based on a form of credit calculated according to a person's station, and the shops range from street vendors to what amount to high-end boutiques.

Damien buys me some sort of pastry with the credit Allannan gave him, and I nibble at it as we walk back across one of the great bridges spanning a wide canal.

We're about halfway across when Damien stops short.

"What is it?" I ask.

"I thought I saw...someone I know," he says, sounding odd. "Alex, wait here. I'll be back in a minute."

"Hey! Don't just"--he's already gone--"leave me here," I finish with a sigh.

The bridge has a low stone railing along its edge, and I sit on it while I wait, wondering if I could find my way back on my own if Damien forgets me here. I watch the indistinct shapes of people passing back and forth, and listen to the persistent background noises of the city's life. 

I used to do something similar whenever I felt lonely or hopeless. I'd go to a park or other public place, and just sit, and let the world keep turning around me. I found a sort of cold comfort in the knowledge of my own insignificance. No one noticed me. I could disappear, cease to exist, and everything would be fine. People would still laugh and love, and eat ice-cream. Dogs would still chase balls; kids would still run and play. It was always a relief to know that keeping any of it going was not my responsibility. 

I finish my pastry, and I'm just starting to get bored when a voice speaks close beside me.

"Abomination!" it hisses.