Page 80 of Gift for a Demon

Was it worth it? Silence had settled in the room. It looked like the visions had stopped. Dove didn’t care, and he still didn’t do well with stretched periods of silence.

Dave… Jordan looked happy to see him, once the shock faded out.

It made him sick.

Something else made him sick.

That’s not my name, he groaned out. He was only beginning to understand why he felt so feral about it. Melchom had said names were important, they spoke of who someone was and was supposed to be.

Dove wasn’t a traitor, like King David, or like Jordan. He wasn’t a big biblical figure, either.

No, he was Dove. He brought peace to his King. He met his needs, filled his days. That was who he wanted to be.

Oh. Okay. Jordan took a step forward. You look good…

Dove. Dove held his chin up, his nails digging into Melchom’s palm as he held his stance.

I like it. And you do look good. Hell suits you.

Even after what you’ve seen? Dove’s eyes welled up.

His friend never would’ve been happy after he saw him suffer like that. Many nights, Jordan had soothed him after an episode, or canceled his own plans for Father’s Day to have loads of ice cream with him.

It didn’t make sense.

I can tell you love him. Jordan took another step closer.

Put one finger on him, Melchom spoke, taking a step closer, and I’ll burn you from the inside out until you’re only ashes to be discarded and forgotten about.

It was a bit dramatic—Dove would have to teach him about human ways of persuasion and threats—but it did the trick, freezing Jordan on his tracks.

Bringing back the King of Hell was important. The world would’ve fallen apart if we didn’t all play our part.

You took everything from me. Dove shook with feelings he wasn’t ready to process yet, shifting from anger to utter sadness and a sense of unfairness he couldn’t quite shake out. I trusted you. You were the only person in my life whose support was unconditional.

It still is. I did this for you too, D–Dove.

No, Dove wasn’t just going to accept that. He couldn’t.

Dove turned to Melchom, imploring without words.

He’s too brainwashed to reason with, his demon said what Dove hadn’t dared to think. I can order the minions to revert the process, but there are no guarantees.

Why? Dove swallowed, then started again. Why did he let himself be brainwashed?

I keep telling you humans are strange creatures. Melchom’s attention shifted away from him, though. His eyes flicked. They seemed to be reading through all the boxes in the room. Dove wasn’t sure how he knew that. Maybe it was the pinched brow in Jordan’s face. He still remembered how that hurt. He fell in love with the leader. Part of his initiation was to drink from a chalice. He thought it would just be wine, but it was the blood of his sister. That event broke him. He spent that week being nursed back to health by the leader.

Dove’s eyes widened. He remembered Jordan had been sick—it had stuck out because Dove had never seen him take a sick leave before that. Dove idolized him as the person who was just there, always solid, never faltering.

So… that was it.

It was strange. Dove wanted to feel bad. He did. Saddened. But… But it didn’t feel like that explanation was enough. It shouldn’t be. Dove had seen, had been certain of feeling worse things, and he’d… He’d pulled through them. He wouldn’t have abandoned Jordan.

Ever.

What do you need, brave Dove?

Brave? The preposterous concept brought tears to his face. Take me away from here.

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