Page 23 of My Saintly Demon

Oh, I’m sure there were a few I broke.

“If I did?”

“Is it my fault?”

“You weren’t paying attention. My actions aren’t your fault.”

“You went easy on them. For me. I feel like that’s my fault.”

He’s right. I went easy, but I also didn’t want to subject him to anything gory. He was clearly not ready to handle what I really was capable of. I didn’t want him to witness Dave, the demon. I selfishly wanted him to see Dave, his rescuer, and a nice guy.

“The only person at fault is me, Charles. I’m not good at being bad, remember? I never have been. You were in trouble. I couldn’t stand there and watch you get hurt.”

“Thank you.”

His voice is raspy and if I didn’t know better, I’d think no one has ever stood up for Charles before. He’s been everyone’s doormat. And that makes me… sad.

I hate that he thinks my transgressions are his fault.

“Before all that went down, you mentioned you wanted to just be yourself and have people see you for Charles and not the guy at the front of the church. I guess we’re sort of the same that way, you and me.”

Charles lets his shoulders sag, and he shifts in his seat towards me.

“Yeah, maybe we are.”

“How come you became a priest if you hate it so much?”

Charles picks at invisible lint on his pants.

“I never used to hate it.” His voice is so broken. So hurt. “I loved being the one people came to for advice and help, but it wasn’t my first choice.” He twiddles his thumbs together and shifts his face to look out the window. “My foster parents didn’t accept me as I was. They were very conservative and disapproved of… of me. I so desperately wanted their love. I tried to be something I wasn’t.” His throat clicks with a heavy swallow. “The insistence I keep my sexual preferences a secret made me follow this path. They were such staunch catholics I felt if I was a priest, someone in the church that was respected, maybe they would still love me.”

Charles looks down at his fidgeting fingers and I’ve never wanted to hug someone more than I do now.

“Do you still speak to them?”

“No. A few years ago, I told them I wasn’t happy, and I’d always be gay. I thought about leaving the church before I was involved with Matthew. They hadn’t changed their minds. I’m dead to them.”

He snorts a kind of sad sound and tries to smile.

“So I may as well keep on going on, right? I have nobody waiting for me. It’s just me.”

Before I have a chance to say any words of comfort, a knock on the driver’s side window has both of us yelp.

A man with short brown hair speaks, and his voice is muffled through the window.

“Dave? I’m Mike.”

Exiting the vehicle, we meet Mike between the vehicle and the house. He wears several leather bracelets on both wrists and has a messenger bag slung across his body. The bags under his eyes concern me. He seems like a guy carrying a lot of weight on his shoulders.

“What is it I can help you both with?”

“Well, my dad said to contact you. We need a place to stay.”

I tower over Mike. Mike doesn’t even reach my shoulders and seems completely unaffected by what I am. Of course if he knows my dad, he’s aware I’m a demon.

“Right, so about that. I have a place, but you’re not alone.”

“Okay. That’s fine. Is the vehicle okay out here?”

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