Superstitions

Onwards and Outwards

Michael and Sam were walking to the borders of the city. The lady was leading the way, for the demon was not quite aware about how Manchester was laid out. She couldn't help but occasionally glance at him, how casual he looked. Would you say that this lad was the Lord of Hell? No, Michael looked more like a peasant from a distant province, some march maybe, which was precisely what he was trying to achieve. However, from time to time he would slip, his posture, the way he held himself, would become that which only few nobles could assume subconsciously.

 The city lacked the walls, as the Welsh didn’t bother it that much with their assaults. The relatively young city of Liverpool was a more desired target of theirs, Guards occasionally narrowed their eyes suspiciously at Sam, but Michael only looked into their eyes, and for some reason they instantly looked away.

"So, do we need horses or anything?" He asked Sam calmly. “I am a proficient rider, so you know.”

"Yes, grandma lives far away. We won’t get there soon if we go by feet."

"Let me take a wild guess, she preferred to stay in a distant and quiet place to get away from the intrigues in this dirty rathole," she blinked in surprise and nodded.

"How do you know, do you read minds?"

Michael chuckled. “I'm an empath," the girl only peaked an eyebrow, "Oh, you don't know what it is, I suppose. Well, to enlighten you, I am not a telepath, which means reading thoughts. Empathy is just reading others' emotions. Fear, happiness, things like that. So we could tempt the unfortunate folks with the biggest efficiency. Not only mortals can evolve in order to survive. Some of us even feed on emotions.” 

Sam had a disgusted look on her face.

"And you..."

"Well, I prefer normal food," he shrugged, not noticing her look, "It is more fulfilling. People mostly don't feel anything from us feeding from emotions, either way, so I have few qualms ‘bout that. Usually it is what causes this emotions that hurts.”

"Mostly don’t feel?"

"I know one lady. Pandora makes others feel weak and pathetic to make herself look pretty. Nasty b***h she is," Michael grimaced.

"And why wouldn't you just move us right to my grandma’s place, like you did with the archer? Just...woosh.”

Michael listened to her explanation with an amused expression, “I can't, nor do I want. To teleport somewhere, I need to see one exact place. Or it can be a place where I have already been. Your grandmother's home fits neither of these categories. And that would ruin the whole point of our journey...do you want to get rid of me that soon? I am offended, Sammy.” 

Sam baited her breath, “N-no...”

“Don’t be like that, girl. I have no intention of killing you. For a long while. And I have a big patience, insults on behalf of an ant are always entertaining...is that rage I smell?” A grin crawled up on his face.

Receiving no answer, Michael laughed. 

At that moment they got to their destination. There was a neat, one story shack, built from dark wood. Looking closer, they noticed that it wasn't the wood that was dark. It was just some cheap paint, probably made from coal. Near the shack was a long construction. There was an unmistakable reeking of horses' manure, mixed with the smell of fresh straw. On the inside was an old man, who was fussing around young black colt. Michael coughed loudly, calling attention to himself.

"Oh, hello, young man, how can I help you?" The man asked, smiling widely.

"We'd like to have a horse, good sir," Michael said.

"Hm, M’afraid it's not possible," the man answered, looking away.

"Why?" Sam asked.

"The only horse I have right now is this one," he petted the black horse near him, "But the boy doesn't like anyone besides me, sadly. Ya wouldn’t want him to knock you off and do a tap dance on your ribs.”

Suddenly, the colt made a neigh and moved closer to the demon. There was something knowing in his eyes that only him and Michael understood. The latter smiled and stroked the horse on its mane.

"Hello there. Do you want to go with us?" He asked. The horse made another excited sound.

"Well, I’ll be damned! Looks like he has actually taken liking to you!" Old Man shouted in excitement.

"How much?" 

Sam could swear she saw the crimson glow in his eyes.

"Take him for free, I don't think I will be able to sell this big guy to anyone else,” the owner responded, “And he has already cost me a fortune to keep in good shape.”

"It is much appreciated, sir,” Michael smiled strangely, “How should we call you, my newest steed? Worthy names my servants need,” he whispered, “Bucefal, maybe? A bit cliche, but who am I to talk about them...”

“Bucefal?” The old man scratch the back of his head, “Odd name.”

“Riding a horse with such name Alexander the Great conquered half of the world.” 

“Who? Was that guy a king or what?” 

“Don’t you mind me,” Michael responded in a suppressed tone.

Sam supposed it was suppressed disgust at the lack of knowledge. She herself wasn’t that aware about Alexander up until now. It wasn’t the information one would teach a woman. As for Michael, Sam made an observation that he seemed awfully polite now. He was very good at acting.

Soon all preparations were made, and, for the lack of money without a saddle, the two wanted people set off.

It was somewhat embarrassing for Sam to ride together with him on one horse, so they were quiet for some time. For hours they were riding, and the itching in the tender places was becoming unbearable. Without the saddle it was a pure torture. The road was leading through the lush forest. Green leaves were but peaceful flowing green waves on the trees, yet Sam was completely out of it, deep within the palace of her mind. They came to the blue pond, which was shining under the light of the setting sun.

"Alright, it's a good place to have rest," Michael said. He then took a good look around and strolled off somewhere.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked.

"Dunno, maybe catch some rabbit or bird for dinner. Also there should be some fish in the pond, this sandbox has a wide variety...I still miss home...The Lord of the Flies has such delicious foods..."

Michael went under the crowns of the dark trees surrounding them. It's not like the darkness bothered him much, he had a built-in lantern, after all. Just as he wanted, the demon caught a pretty fat rabbit. A gust of fire scorched the poor little creature. But one shouldn’t just eat a dry piece of meat. Luckily, there were some mushrooms that looked like they weren't deadly. At least to him. The same thing with berries. Michael subtly returned to the pond. Sam was rubbing her hands, trying to warm herself up and shield herself against the strikes of cold winds. Michael would have hit himself on a forehead, if his hands weren't busy with collected goods.

"Oh, I do apologise, dear!" Michael  approached Sam and put everything on the ground, "I'm just not affected by cold, I completely forgot to make fire," he then noticed a pile of brushwood nearby, collected by her, "Won-der-ful," The demon clicked his tongue and ignited the fuel with his azure flames.

He then pulled the rabbit on a stick, right after flaying it. Sam almost hurled at seeing him so casually soak his hands in blood, she washed the mushrooms in the pond, trying not to look at his minuscule act of cruelty. Some time later Michael was already frying their dinner.

"Is that safe?" Sam asked, carefully pointing at the twirling flames.

"Cooking on the hellfire? Yup, absolutely safe," Michael grinned.

Sam sat on the grass, softly brushing the edge of her dress. The place was very tranquil, quiet and peaceful. For the first time she forgot the insanity that followed her for a long while.

"Why are you like that?"

"What are you implying here, young lady?" Michael raised an eyebrow, “Are we talking about my good looks or charming personality?”

"Certainly not the latter," Sam said. Michael laughed and looked at the night sky.

“So, I take it that the first part is correct?” He asked.

“That’s not what I meant,” the girl grumbled. “I don’t know...I would have expected you to be...more serious.”

“Ah, yes. Worst crimes in history have been committed with a stone-serious look. So, why not smile for a change? This is the first step. It is a common question, in all actuality,” Michael lied on the grass, “I used to be a rare bastard. What you see now is an angel. With who my old man was...it comes with heritage. I’ve changed. I want to move on...and the Old Man’s henchmen are often bothering me.”

“You...who is your grandfather?”

“The one in whose honour you build cathedrals, milady!” Michael announced with bravado, “THE God himself. He doesn’t judge me for what I am. And once I killed father, I thought that even I can be forgiven for all my sins. That’s what He said, and I have no reason not to trust Him. Grandfather does not lie. Ever.”

Sam resisted the urge to ask more questions, although she was dying to know more. Michael and she ate in silence after that. Bucefal was nipping on the grass nearby. The wind was whispering to the trees its secrets, some little animals were rustling in darkness, trying to hide from predators lurking in the night. The fire was loudly cracking, consuming the last piece of wood thrown into its gaping jaw by the demon. After eating, Sam yawned, 

"You can go to sleep if you want," Michael offered.

"If you say so..." she said, lying on the ground and putting one hand under her head, "And you?"

"We don't need sleep. I will be on the lookout," There was silence after that.

"Hey," Sam called and the blonde looked at her, "I...just wanted to say...thank you...for everything.”

Michael smiled softly.

"You are welcome. Sleep well, Sammy. I won’t stop if you feel tired tomorrow.”