The Demon Mate

The ocean's awfully grey. I didn't remember it being this dismal when I visited here when I was a kid. Maybe time changed my perspective of looking at things. Or it may be that I'm not as innocent and carefree as I used to be.

Curled up in the back seat of the Black Ben Dad prepared for me to be driven into his home town, I looked out across the grey ocean, and an equally grey sky, looking for a horizon that was hidden in the fog. The sea looks very similar to the color of dirty mop water, the type you find in the janitor's closet after he's done his dirty and distasteful work. Needless to say, it's dismal.

Don't get me wrong, I love all types of weather, but when you have to sit in the back of a car for four hours to go to your new home, and you aren't addicted to your phone, you automatically look out the window. And if all you see is a world of grey, it's only a matter of time until you become brain dead.

Your mind first tries to play these frivolous games, like find a shape in the sky, or see how many words you know, or make up new words. But after each new game, you become more and more bored, like a wasted toy that's lost its allure from when you first opened it. And then you sink into the grey, grey stupor that I'm in right now.

I sigh and curl up even more in my seat. I left the city because of the hustle and bustle of life was unbearable. Not to mention noisy.

Also the people. Too many people. I don't know how Dad or Nathan or Henry, my two older brothers, managed to work in that city. I guess somebody has to work to keep the money rolling in. Though there is the family heritage, and dad is the CEO of a multi-billionaire company, he still insists on working. Nathan and Henry as well, Nathan being a doctor and Henry a lawyer.

I would never be able to do any of those jobs, seeing as how I'm not smart or a good leader. But I guess whatever floats your beer bottle, man. Cut up people and argue all day. Just have fun with it. Besides, there are other things about that city...

I'm pulled out of my thoughts when the driver, Mike, says, "We're about there Cayce. You should start to be able to see Handerville soon."

"Oh, okay," I reply.

I may be negative on the inside, but on the outside, I try to be professional. Polite, kind, and professional. I put my legs down from my seat and smooth out the black vest that I'm wearing over my white collared shirt. I'm wearing matching black pants and boots. My shoe size is pretty small, only a seven, and it matches my height, a mere 5'5".

Not the shortest, but not the tallest. My black color theme matches my hair color, which is, you got it, black. My palish gross skin does little to add to my overall appearance, but that can't be helped because that's what I am. Pale, black-haired, tiny, and very taciturn. Oh, and well-bred. Cayce Vance, at your service.

My bored eyes that are scanning the landscape notice a much-anticipated change. The road we're on begins to slope downhill, and instead of farmland on my right, crops of trees have begun to pop out, eventually becoming a forest. The sea to the left is unchanging though. Hounding us with it's dull and grey garments. Today the sea really is an old man.

We drive through the forest for a while before the road curves to the right, and for the first time since my tenth birthday, I'm able to see Handerville, nestled in a green blanket of trees, and the ocean biting at the edge of town. The tiny town has neat streets running in perpendicular format, but snaking off into dissonant curves near the edges of it.

"Welcome to Handerville," says Mike.

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We pull up to the house I will be spending my time in. I step out to see it. It was originally the family's, but it wasn't lived in for some time, so Dad renovated it and made it livable again...

It's painted white and the only other color is the roof tiles, and the tiny red petunias planted in front. The style of the house is victorian. At least I think it is. I'm not an expert. With the spires and slanted roofs. One of the spires has a cross on it, reaching up and stabbing the great vault above.

But it's also slightly modern. The back of the house has a porch, and there is an adjacent garage. I don't know what it is. I just know it's big and white and livable. Dad made sure that the house I would live in is okay. And he even had all my belongings as well other stuff brought into this house. I think he bought me a car too, maybe a Porsh, or a Mercy. I don't know. I know I sound bratty, but I don't know a great deal about cars. I don't know a great deal about anything. I just know you put gas in it and you drive with a brake and wheel.

"I'll stay here for the night, and I think I'll head back to the city in the morning," says Mike as he steps out of the car in his three-piece suit and smiles.

He's actually my cousin, and he's 20, but he treats me like my brother. He's an only child, so I guess he sees me that way. We share the same black colored hair, though he has a tint of brown in it. And whereas I'm short and skinny, he's tall and muscular, not to mention handsome. His sharp nose goes down the center of his face, between two grey eyes like summer storms.

His hair is long and wavy but styled so he looks like a gentleman. I used to tease him when we had family parties and all the girl cousins tried to get him to kiss them. He would blush and run from them, but that's Mike for you. Handsome, tall, muscular, and red as a tomato.

   Growing up, I used to remind myself that we were family and I'd be good-looking too. Turns out, something's wrong with my DNA because I don't have sharp features, but only dainty ones. Which means, I'm ugly.

  I'd probably be the ugly step-sister from Cinderella. But she's got a mom that spoils her. I don't have my Mom, so even she's better off than me.

"Sounds good," I say as I smile, "I wouldn't want to spend my first night in my new house alone."

  He smiles back and I lead the way in.

Pulling out the keys I received hours earlier, I put it in the keyhole and turn it. The lock gives a nice heavy click, which gives me comfort to know that it's nice and supple.

As I open the door, I gasp in astonishment. Dad wasn't joking when he said he made it livable. Turning on the light, the chandelier that hangs from the arched ceiling lights up in a million pieces of glass, or maybe crystal. The walls are pristine white, and the floor is hardwood. The foyer itself is the size of a medium-sized living room. I pout. I like tile because I like the cool feeling of stone, but I guess that's whatever. I never really do mention my preferences anyway.

Stepping in more, I begin to remember the details of this house. The foyer I'm in now connects to a hallway and past that is the living room and the kitchen. The kitchen should lead to the garage, and the living room and kitchen both link to the dining room. Beyond that, I can't remember. But I don't try to remember. Finding out the layout of a new house sounds interesting, even though I've visited here numerous times.

I look up at the chandelier and I think there was one also in the dining room as well, though it may have been smaller.

Mike gives a low whistle. "Nice place you got," he says enviously.

"Please," I say with a wave of my hand. Walking further into the house, I say, "This is your home too. We're family so my home is your home."

  Some quote in Spanish, I think, that I won't say because I'll sound like a hippo, sounds in my head. If you know it, pat yourself in the back. You deserve it.

I hear a chuckle from Mike. I walk past the dining room. There is a chandelier, two of them actually. Maybe my memory isn't hopeless after all. I also think swinging on them would be a riot, and would make a great selfie.

   Walking into the kitchen, I open the fridge. Stocked up with fresh milk cheese, and even mineral water. I smile as I grab it and open it.

"So," says Mike as he sits down at the island in the middle of the big kitchen, "when does school start?"

"Two days from now, actually," I say as I take a sip of the water.

Water is my favorite. Some people are crazy about candy and sweets and juice and drinks, but for me, water is the best. Water is my best friend.

I take a seat across from him and set my bottled water down. In the middle of the island is a bowl of green apples. I grab one start to eat it. Apples are okay. They aren't too sweet, but not too sour either. Just right.

"Hmm," says Mike, "well, at least you have tomorrow to prepare for it right?"

"Yeah, and thank goodness I have all my stuff here already," I add.

"Yeah, imagine unpacking all your stuff," says Mike, "and in two days!"

"Pros of being rich," I say nonchalantly. Mike laughs. He stops though and turns serious. His grey eyes seem to become much darker as he stares at me.

"So you feeling alright after, you know.." trails off Mike. His brows knit together in obvious worry.

I take a moment to look into his grey eyes. I know he's worried about me after the incident but it's not like I killed anybody.

   Okay, I did kill somebody, but it was purely out of self-defense. There a difference. I wag my finger to you.

   The judge said it was okay, and I was pardoned. And the shrink said, and I quote, "Oh please! He's in excellent health!"

I sigh, and leaning across the island to put my hand on his shoulder, I say, "Look, I know you're worried about me, and I'm grateful for that, but there's nothing to worry about. I'm fine. Besides, I'm four hours away from where it happened, and one and a half away from the nearest train station. Handerville is so peaceful, it's almost supernatural."

Mike looks at me for a moment before he smiles, saying, "Alright, if you say so. You know because I have no other siblings, I see you as my little baby brother. If anything happened to you I'd be devastated."

"Oh please!" I say laughing, "If something happened to me, you have plenty of cousins to keep your mind off!"

"What do you mean?" he asks, wide-eyed.

"You have about a dozen cousins who would kill to have the chance to kiss you," I say, giggling, "and I mean the little ones!"

"Oh that..." says Mike as he blushes. Bright tomato red.

My laugh fills the air.