Page 6 of The Devil You Know

Michael raised his head slowly as I came to stand in front of him, his eyes clearer than they were before, but still shadowed with muted grief.

“What do you want?”

“Can I... come in?” I asked gruffly.

He tilted his head at me, considering.

“What will you give me for it?”

The audacity of this bitch!

“Fish...?” I offered reluctantly.

“What will I do with uncooked fish?”

“No, no, it’s cooked!” I took the package from my big coat pocket and lifted the leaf it was rolled in to show the remnants of the fish. They didn’t look very appetizing.

“You made a fire?” Michael’s eyes widened.

“You didn’t?” My eyes narrowed. Then a wicked smile spread my lips. “Oh, you didn’t. That changes things. Now my offer is to make a fire for you. I will keep the fish for myself.”

“Get out of my sight,” Michael snarled.

“Aw, don’t be like that. I will trade the fish for one of those baskets you are making?”

“Fine,” Michael harrumphed. “But you will have to wait until I make another one.”

With a winning smile I entered the cave. Just as I hoped it was perfect; not too large but spacious enough for two. But the most important thing was that the entrance was quite small and had a small tunnel leading into the main chamber of the cave and an off-shot smaller room. I decided to prepare the fire in the smaller space, as I noticed small draft coming from a crack in the stone ceiling, which meant smoke would be able to escape the otherwise confined space. Unceremoniously, I shifted the pile of leaves Michael had to have been using to sleep towards the wall. I could probably use some of it as kindling; setting up a fire after it rained was going to be tricky enough. Going out and gathering up the wood and kindling in my drenched state was already tiring, but then I had to fight to get to the core of a sturdy, big, fallen branch to expose the part that was dry and could be used to start a fire. I put everything together and, after many tries, I finally had a small flame going. I whispered to it as a human would to a baby.

“Come on, little one, be good, grow tall and strong. Aren’t you a beautiful fire? Yes, you are!”

I didn’t even care what Michael had to think hearing me babble. I just wanted to get dry. Was that what humans felt all the time? No wonder they sometimes acted insane. Hunger, cold, aching body... those were powerful motivators I was unfamiliar with. I knew them on some level – we weren’t completely impervious after all – but there was a difference between me feeling... drained, empty... when I was building my kingdom from the ground up and had no access to enough tamed power to feed on for years, and the immediacy of human’s predicaments where you could cease to exist if you didn’t drink water for just a few days. It made everything more intense. Fleeting, but so vivid.

“Come, eat!” I called out to Michael when I was reasonably sure the fire would continue, and I had to only add a stick from time to time to keep it going. It turned out neither of us had come up with a pot-like item that would allow us to cook over fire, but the fish could be eaten cold as well. I supplemented the meal with a few berries I found while gathering wood and what I was pretty sure was parsley.

“What... Why are you naked?” Michael asked, scandalized, as he came into the smaller cave.

“I’m not naked. I kept the underwear on, didn’t I? I won’t get dry if I keep all those clothes on.”

If I stretched, it was because my spine needed the exercise and not because I wanted the angel’s eyes on me.

Michael was very intently avoiding looking at me. He busied himself with sitting down by the fire, and I couldn’t help but notice his wince of pain.

“Did you hurt your leg?” I asked, remembering I saw him limping at some point.

“No,” the angel said brusquely, but the way he positioned his left leg carefully bellied his words.

“C’mon, if you are hurt you should show me. Maybe I can give you some aid. For example, my toes are still freezing. They would make a great icepack.” I wriggled my brows.

“I already took care of it. The leg is as well as it can be. Drop it.”

The tone broke no arguments and I decided this wasn’t the hill I wanted to die on, so I switched topics.

“Where did you learn to weave?” I gestured to the basket and the fibers that were drying beside us.

He visibly hesitated but spoke, choosing his words carefully.

“After... after the war I stayed on Earth for some time. I met a young girl. She... she helped me. And she taught me a lot about crafting. I wanted to be useful while I stayed with her family, so I learned to weave. Baskets first, then fabrics. Even tried my hands at bracelets and necklaces, but she told me the colors of the beads and threads I picked were always horrible, so I stayed in my lane and got quite good at weaving.”

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