Page 10 of The Daughter of the Devil

“Lead the way.” As he turns around the other way my hand reaches out to his elbow and slightly caresses it before I retract.

“My lady?” Why did I want to hold his arm? I’ve probably seen too many humans around here doing that and naturally thought I should too.

“Nothing. Let’s go.”

After what feels like an hour, I identify one undeniable fact: malls are ridiculously oversized, and it is indeed possible to shop till you drop. My heeled boots are my favorite accessory, but even I can’t bear this torture much longer. The fluorescent lights above flicker annoyingly, casting a harsh glare on the polished floors, while the incessant chatter of oblivious shoppers grates on my nerves.

Alistair has offered to carry me a few times, but I don’t need the embarrassment of being that helpless weighing over me. The air is thick with the scent of fast food and cheap perfume, making every breath feel like an ordeal. The gaudy storefronts, with their flashing neon signs and garish displays, only add to my growing sense of disdain.

"Are you sure you don’t want me to carry you, Morgana?" Alistair asks again, concern evident in his eyes.

I shoot him a glare. "No, Alistair. I can manage."

He nods, though his worried expression remains. Every step in these boots feels like a punishment, but I refuse to show any weakness. The endless maze of shops and kiosks stretches out before me, each one more pointless than the last. Humans flock to these places like moths to a flame, their laughter and conversations a constant, irritating buzz.

As we pass yet another shoe store, I can’t help but feel a pang of envy at the sight of cushioned benches and soft carpeting. But I push the thought aside, determined to keep moving. Alistair stays close, his presence a steady comfort despite the madness around us.

Eventually, we reach a quieter section of the mall, the noise and chaos fading slightly. I find a bench and sit down, grateful for the brief respite. Alistair stands nearby, ever vigilant.

"Malls are truly dreadful places," I mutter, more to myself than to him.

He smiles slightly. "I couldn’t agree more, my lady." I take a deep breath, willing myself to endure this ordeal a little longer. I have a mission, and I won’t let a mere shopping trip defeat me. Even if every fiber of my being longs to escape this human-infested labyrinth, I will persevere, so I stand and continue walking.

“This place is useless. They look nothing like the ones in the crystals.” I comment, Alistair knowing exactly to what I was referring.

“Technically, you were never supposed to see inside that Soul Crystal, you shouldn’t even know what a mall looks like.” I shoot him the deadliest look I can muster in my exasperated state.

“I’m sorry, are you judging me right now?”

He stops dead in his tracks, flustered, “No, my lady.” He clears his throat, “I just mean that the soul you saw was consumed my objects and being stuck in a mall larger than a city is just something that doesn’t really exist. Most of the time they don’t even have what you need.” Looking out towards the surrounds of people, I roll my eyes at the cluster of girls in high school uniforms with loads of shopping bags on each arm. Only some lucky enough to have men in their tow holding all the bags. “Maybe you shouldn’t just focus on one thing.” Alistair comments. “Why not shop for a new look? I mean you only have one very distinct wardrobe.” Sure, all my clothing is black, but whilst I am the only person my father doesn’t force to dress in semi-formal attire, I don’t usually shock him by wearing as much gothic clothing as I do up here on the surface. “I think you’d look nice in red.” Again, he clamps his mouth shut, concerned he may have overstepped. It’s unusual to hear him so animate, but it’s starting to get enjoyable.

“Let’s stop in there.” Looking over at a store with intricate black lace style logos, he probably sees that it’s another gothic clothing store. “Maybe I’ll find something red.” I mock, walking over towards it. As I enter I can see why the store was mostly void of people. The atmosphere was dense, coated in a dark presence, but created by a human – not a demon.

“Welcome.” The girl at the counter smiles. There’s something about her that feels almost familiar. Perhaps it’s the evil glint behind her lips that reminds me of the person I see when I look in the mirror. Her black lipstick painting her soul on the outside accompanied by silver studs in her bottom lip. As she flips her black and pink streaked hair from her face she comes out from around the counter. “Are you looking for anything in particular today or just browsing?” As this is the fifteenth store we’ve walked into, I am getting used to advising someone I’m just browsing, but there was something intriguing about this girl who was probably mere years older.

“Something for a Halloween party. I’m not big on costumes.” She looks up, her mind ticking away and thinking about what she can possibly offer.

“I mostly stock things for witches and those who love the colour black – would you be interested in being a witch for Halloween?” It hadn’t occurred to me I could just be a basic witch – that would be easy enough. She walks over to a rack with short black dresses with rope in the front. As she holds it out towards me, I can see that the ropes in front are designed to create a pentagram shape over the chest. “If you pair this with some nice lace stockings and a black hat, I’d say you’d be good.”

“This is convenient. We’ll take it.” As the girl holds one up to the back of my shoulders to check on the size, Alistair pulls a card from a wallet I had no knowledge of the existence of. “Where’d that come from?” I query quietly as the girl packs the dress and searches for a conical hat.

“There are hundreds of people that die every day whose wealth goes nowhere. An accumulation of that can be manifested by demons and used in the real world. I call it Bank of the Dead.” He smirks, clearly enjoying himself.

“That’s morbid. How much is that exactly?”

“Billions, probably.” As I know the approximate cost of living in this city, I can imagine that billions would mean a lot to a single person. As I watch the girl pack the bag, I can see she is doing it over a Ouija board, which is what she must have been playing with when we walked in.

“You know those things don’t work.” I comment, but the girl just smiles at me.

“There we go.” The girl says, holding the bag over to us from the counter as Alistair pays. “Thanks for your business, and thanks for the insight Morgana.” Alistair takes the bag accordingly and we exit the store. It looks like stores around us are starting to close, so I suppose we found a costume for me just in time.

After a few paces from the store, Alistair stops me and asks, “Did you tell her your name?” I try to think, but honestly, I couldn’t recall saying my name out loud. Looking over Alistair’s shoulder I can see that the store had rapidly closed behind us and the girl nowhere in sight.

12

Cell Reception

Morgana

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