Page 10 of Gift for a Demon

The thoughts crossing through the human’s mind were easier to catch, then, fear about his delusions taking a religious angle. Something about how he was never going to leave a ward now.

“What did your parents think, naming you after such a pathetic man?”

“I…” His human was beginning to hyperventilate now. “I don’t talk with my parents. I don’t know.”

“Why?” The answer revealed itself before the human could speak his mind. His parents didn’t accept the way he’d chosen to exist—they’d kicked him out when he started wearing skirts and makeup, thrown him to the streets because he didn’t meet their expectations of masculinity. “The David they named you after was a twink. Power bottom, too.”

“Wait, what?”

Melchom hadn’t meant to share that piece of data, but the way humans used religion bothered him. That was something else he still hadn’t learned to completely conceal after millennia of seeing it everywhere.

“Are you not able to catch up, human?”

The human in question shivered in response. “You can just call me Dave, you know.”

“No, I will not utter that name or any variant of it. He doesn’t deserve my acknowledgement of his ongoing legacy.”

“Is he… here? In Hell?”

“If he is, I’ve never had the pleasure to be informed.”

Melchom doubted it, though. He’d wondered about it for decades, his need for revenge consuming everything. Melchom had bribed, sneaked around, and chased leads through all of the realms.

No, David was most likely being guarded by angels, not allowed one ounce of movement. The thought brought him a strange comfort when wrath blinded him.

“Okay. So, let me see if I’m getting this right.” The human took a deep breath. Melchom noticed the human didn’t run a hand through his hair like many others did. He soon found out why—some self-imposed rule he’d enforced to not ruin his curls. Melchom wondered what would happen if he took him to the master bathroom and made him face the mirror. Would the slight disarray on top of his hair be the thing to break him? “You have some kind of beef with a character in the Bible who may or may not exist, and you’re taking it out on all guys with that name now? Because that seems petty.”

“All worshippers of that unlawful king will regret ever learning his name.”

“Yeah, sure, but I didn’t choose the name, I don’t even use it unless I’m filling an official document, and believe me, my parents aren’t going to regret naming me like that if it means you’re getting rid of me for them.”

Melchom grinned. He’d counted on that answer ever since he’d learned of the human’s parents.

“In that case…” Another thought occurred to him. “From now on, you will be Dove.”

Doves had meaning, and the human wouldn’t be able to complain too much because it was close enough to his original name. Close enough he wouldn’t put up a fight, but different enough Melchom could mold him into what the new name signified.

New resolve zapped through him. Yes, he’d do that. The human—Dove—was meant to be his, anyway, his gift. Melchom would make it so.

“W-what?” Dove—it really took no energy to start implementing the switch—spluttered. “Why?”

“Because I’m not giving power to the name of an usurper.”

Hadn’t he said that already?

Melchom shook his head. Here he’d been, thinking Dove might’ve been smarter than the average human and could keep up with him.

“I’m not… Seriously?” Dove raised an eyebrow.

“Dove is a good name. It suits you.”

To that, Dove’s cheeks heated. A quick look showed Melchom he’d thought it a compliment. The idea was cute.

“So, that’s it? You’re just giving me a nickname?”

“But it’s more than a nickname.” Melchom could’ve left him thinking it was a nickname, but there was no fun in that. “It’s a blank slate, a new identity I get to define, to make it as strong or weak as I want, as desirable as I choose.”

“Right.” There was an eyeroll, but Dove couldn’t hide the way his body trembled, his knees threatening to buckle on themselves.

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