Page 18 of The Demon's Delight
I barked a laugh at the unexpected question. “No. Not really. Time moves differently between the realms. It’s faster here than in Hell, for example. And slower here than in the fae world. I’ve seen many things, learned much, but still have infinite things to explore.”
“That’s a lovely way to look at life.”
“I agree.” My heart thudded behind my ribs. Sleepy introspective Hailon succeeded in winning my affection just as fiercely as her stubborn or violent sides. I settled for keeping my eye on her, but my fingers ached to curl around hers.
“Is there anything you’re not telling me about this summoner contract?” she asked, the question abrupt but her tone soft. I could understand why she’d be distrustful.
“I don’t believe so. You owe me nothing, if that’s what you mean. I’m here because you summoned me, though also because I want to be. Should you banish me back, I could return if I wanted and had the opportunity, but my duty to you would be considered fulfilled.”
“You don’t have a duty to me, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Be that as it may, that’s how summoning a demon works. There are certain rules. I agreed to help you. So I am.”
She sat thoughtfully for several minutes, gave a solemn nod, then rolled fully onto her back and raised an arm, pointing between several stars. “The Stallion. That’s the one that comes to mind as my favorite.”
It took me a moment to catch up to her topic shift, as I’d honestly forgotten I’d even asked her a question about the stars.
“Hmm. Tell me the story? I have a feeling your version of the tale is a little different than mine.”
“Maybe you should tell me instead. I think yours may be more accurate given how much older it likely is.”
“You first. Please?”
“Alright. The Stallion consists of those seven stars there, the ones that look like a winged horse if you squint just right. He was born a regular horse, in the wild lands. One day, the humans came and settled the area, and they captured all the beasts they could, him included. They tried to make him plow the fields. They tried to make him a war mount. They tried all the jobs for a horse there were, but none suited him. Until one day, a man needed to get an urgent message to his father. That day, they discovered he was best suited torun.”
“Yes, I like this one. Go on!” I propped my chin on my hands and watched her raptly.
A smile was evident in her voice as she continued with the story. “After that first time, they sent him short distances without a rider. He was even faster that way. They started to joke that he knew how to fly without wings. Also, money had a way of finding its way into his saddle bags, and when turned out to pasture, he found several caches of hidden treasure. For all those reasons, he became quite valued by the humans.”
“Wait,” I interrupted, “does your version have a tragic turn in it?”
She shook her head. “No. This one is a happy story.”
“Oh good.” I clapped just my fingertips together so there was very little noise from my cheerful applause and settled in to hear the rest.
“The stallion spent his years running messages back and forth from human settlements, accepting his pay in affectionate nose scratches, apples, and carrots. He was well loved and eventually partnered with a beautiful mare and sired several foals.”
“Naturally.”
“When he got to the end of his life, there was no other horse that could compare, though his children had all trained to take up for him after he was gone. Some went far and wide so that more settlements could benefit from their talent. When he died, as a gift for all his service, he was blessed with golden wings and asked to continue carrying messages through the heavens.”
“Does your version say that falling stars are him on a mission to make a delivery?”
“Yes.” I heard her smile again, and it warmed me to know retelling this had pleased her. “And also, that thunder is his hooves, strong winds the breeze from his wings, all that. If you hide any treasure, you’re supposed to ask him not to find it so that it’s still where you left it when you return to claim it. Yeah, I think that’s my favorite.”
“I like that one too.” I didn’t mention how that was the one I’d always identified most with, because that’s essentially what my job was. I was the messenger, the traveler. I was a demon version of a flying horse. I even had a trick to make money appear when I had none. The similarities were striking. But there was no family or retirement or heavenly reward waiting for me. Soon, there might not even be a messenger job.
“There’s a horse back home, his name is Jacks. I like to pretend he’s one of The Stallion’s descendants.”
“Why’s that?”
“He’s constantly causing trouble. Hates to be penned. Loves to run more than anything. Very fast too. He’s a handful.”
“Yours?”
“No, he belongs to a friend. But I like to bring him treats now and then.”
There were several long moments of silence, just the fire crackling and the night breathing around us.
