Chapter Thirteen

The young boy sat on his messy bed, black blankets pushed up against the wall and his bedsheets untucked, going through one of the many stacks of paper he had laying out on it. His bangs were tied up out of his eyes with a ponytail, making his hair stick straight up from it being too short for any weight to pull it down. Anyone who walked in would be confused by his clutter, mostly because it looks like he is study but everyone knows that Daman would never study for anything, but he had everything down to a science. Letters from his dad, letters from Victoria, spells, anything else he needed to read were all placed on his bed in their own specific piles.

His fingers sifted through his dad’s letters at a rapid speed trying to find where his father had put the return address. In the back of his head while shuffling through the papers all he could think about was Salem and how it conflicted with his job very badly.

“Stupid emotions...” He grumbled. “If only I had done my job….ugh where is it!”

He groaned as he inched closer to the bottom stack and still couldn't find what he was looking for. He knew that it was in there because he wrote letters back to his father….unless he used the one time only spell. God d****t. He probably did. He pushed the stack of papers away from him, causing them to fall off the bed dramatically with a whooshing sound and spread amongst his already cluttered room and laid his head against his wall.

Why did this have to happen to him? Why did he allow himself to get close? This was just for a job, he knew not to get close and yet he did. Oh god, his father is going to kill him, metaphorically speaking of course. He stood up and picked up one of the boxes on his bed, to be specific the ones marked as Victoria’s letters and placed them on top of the stack of spells. For a witch she sure knows nothing about the topic. Tsk. As if anyone living in this world would be able to teach her of course. He picked up the boxes and carefully stepped over the pieces of papers on the floor so he could get to his bookshelf and place the boxes into their own individual cubby holes. He then sat down on the floor and started gathering all of the letters together, once again making it into a neat and orderly stack, the bottom being the oldest date, then he put them in their box, put the lid on top of it, and put it away next to the other boxes.

Sighing again, he pulled up his sweatpants and tied the strings into a stronger knot to hold them up better. He went over to his door and opened it up to walk across the hardwood floors and down the steps, lifting his baggy shirt up to scratch at his tanned stomach, and rounded the corner to enter the kitchen to find an older woman sitting at the table eating a bowl of cereal while reading a book. He walked right past her and over to the kitchen cabinet and dished out himself a bowl and a box of cereal for himself to eat. The older woman turned towards him as she took a bite of her cereal and watched him.

“What do you want Melony?” Daman asked while getting the milk out of the fridge.

“You’ve been locked up in the room since you got home from school, didn’t even come out when I asked you what you wanted for dinner two hours ago. I finally got tired of waiting for you and came and made myself a bowl of cereal. What kept you so busy in there?”

Daman picked up his bowl and turned around to lean against the counter as he scooped up the small round balls and placed them into his mouth. “Nothing that concerns you.”

“Are you actually studying for once?”

Daman almost choked on his cereal and milk sputtered out of his mouth. “Oh god no. Why on earth would I do that?”

Melony chuckled as she stood up and put her empty bowl into the sink. “If you need anything let me know.” She winked at him as she sauntered away.

“Did you use a f*****g spell to spy on me!?” Melony continued walking. “You nosy asshat! Give me his adress!”

She stopped walking when she reached the door and leaned against the white frame. “Why do you need it so badly? Did you get too attached to Daddy’s pawn to continue your mission?” She made a mocking in love face.

“They’re….good people I can’t just….I can’t take this world away from him!”

“Get over yourself Daman. You’re almost 67 years old, and still very young, he’ll die way before you even become an adult. Give up on him and go for someone more your age if you’re really looking for love. But dad set up that love affair for you two so that you could get an easy vantage point for getting the job done. Don’t slack off because you’re getting a soft heart.”

“You know, there is a reason I don’t date anyone in our world.” He looked at the ground.

“Yes, I know. Since you’re part human you’ll eventually die. At least you’ll get to be with someone longer. Love isn’t even my point of this. Give up this little idea that you’re going to defy dad and just do as he asked. It’s a lot simpler that way. Besides. Wouldn’t your mom want you to be the thriving prince she always called you~?” Melony smirked and sauntered off to her room.

A few weeks had passed since Melony and them had their little one sided argument. Daman had been non stop thinking about what she said, especially the part about his mom and decided that he was going to emotionally distance himself from Salem and continue on with what his father had planned. As much as it hurt him to know that if Salem ever found out he would be extremely upset, it hurt him more that his mother’s dream wouldn’t come true. All she wanted was for him to reign over the underworld when his father got too old to do it anymore and this was the only way his father would let him do so and nothing is going to get in the way of doing anything for his mother. But would his mother be proud of how he has to do it? Be proud that he has to destroy her world? To give up on the one thing she believed to be the most important part of anybody's life span?

“Ugh mom, I wish you were here to help me with this.” The boy sighed as he turned away from the faded old stone block decorated with bright flowers.

He went over to a low hanging tree and sat underneath a branch that hung low enough for him to reach the leaves when he stood up. The were starting to turn orange and would occasionally fall onto his head as he did nothing but sit underneath that tree and stare at the cracked gravestone. The bright colors of the pink carnations and hydrangeas and, his mother's favorite, peony’s all sat up against the stone. The tops of some of them reaching up to her name. It's been way too many years since he’s seen his mother, a blink of an eye to most people he know’s, but to him it feels like much longer than that. The worst thing about being this half demon is that his years are slowed down. In real time he should be a 67 year old man just getting to retirement with a husband by his side and a bunch of grandkids,  but he’s not. He’s still what his siblings would call a child, a mere baby compared to all of them. That’s why he appears to be sixteen years old.

Now I get it, if he’s 67 years old then why is he in high school? He had to be for his- his father’s plan to work. He had to get close to people that looked to be his age that dealt in the forces of dark magic for the plan to work. At first he was all for it. Eager to get to the world of the living again and actually please his father. Only one problem his father didn’t think of, he might actually fall in love with the poor kid he was set up with.

Daman ran his hands through his hair and let out a soft groan. This wasn’t supposed to happen. “Mom, what do I do?” Small tears began to run down his cheek. “I want to help dad but I want to be with Salem!”

His cheeks turned red and his eyes became all puffy as he stared at the slab of stone, looking for an answer, a sign, anything! But nothing happened, this was one battle he had to figure out on his own. After a few more minutes of him staring at the stone, with useless hope of an answer appearing up on it, he eventually stood up and wiped the tears away from his cheek. He shuffled out of the grave yard and walked down the sidewalk.

The sun was shining high in the sky but the air still had a bitter chill to it. Daman wrapped himself up into his black hoodie, barely even keeping him warm but that’s the price you pay to look edgy, and tried to hold back his sniffles and stop his eyes from leaking. His main motivation was that if he didn’t stop crying his tears were going to freeze right to his his cheeks and that won’t be fun for him in the long run. After a few hours of moping around his feet took themselves to Omiles flower shop and he stood in front of the frostbitten  glass, admiring it’s beauty.  

The frost lined the edges at the top of the window and extended a few inches out like a cloud near the edges, almost as if it were a christmas card with a frame around it with an intricate ice pattern. The flowers inside seemed to be in full bloom though, Omile probably had a spell on the shop to make it permanently the right temperature for each section of flowers, causing their bright colors to contrast the muted colors of winter. From what he’s been told, and has witnessed just from going in there himself a few times, is that she cares for nothing more than the wellbeing of her flowers. After looking into the flower shop for a few minutes Daman blew into his hands to warm them up and began to make his way back home, only to be stopped by the chime of a bell hanging above a door and his name being called out to.

“Daman is that you? What are you doing out here in this cold?” Daman turned around and saw the small girl holding onto her waist tightly and using her apron as a makeshift jacket.

“I was just visiting my mom for some advice.” He let out a light hearted chuckle.

“Well, did you get what you were looking for?” The wind blew stray strands of hair that weren’t in her bun into her face, but she ignored them nonetheless.

“Truthfully, no I didn’t.”

“Come inside, I can make you some tea and maybe help you out?” Omile offered, wrapping her arms around herself tighter.

Daman stood there for a minute trying to work out a way he could possibly get help from her without giving anything away as to what his problem is. He was very cold and knew that it was warm inside due to Omile’s skirt and short sleeve shirt. He knew that despite freezing Omile would stand out there until she got an answer and then decided he’ll wing it and started walking towards the building. “That would be nice, thank you.”

Omile smiled as he walked through the door and then closed it behind him. He was immediately hit with a comforting warmth and he loosened himself up to the warm air. Omile walked over to her counter and motioned for Daman to follow. She pulled down two average sized white mugs with an ivy pattern around the rim and two bags of tea as Daman made his way over to the stool she pulled out for him and sat down. She picked up a glass container from what looked like a coffee machine and poured the steamy water into the two cups. Daman watched her reach up to the cabinet again and nodded his head when she held the sugar over his mug. She added two spoonfuls to both cups and then put in the tea bags and picked them up and made her way behind the counter. She set his mug in front of him and warned him to be careful because it was hot and then sat herself up on a stool.

“So what seems to be bothering you.” Omile blew on her tea as she looked up at him.

“Well uh, it has to do with what my dad wants me to do, which conflicts with Salem, all because of what my mom wanted me to be when I become old enough.” He blew on his mug as he carefully let each word slip out of his mouth, thinking about each one and how to place it where it should be to not give away too much.

Daman could tell that Omile picked up his hesitance about the subject and watched as she sat herself up straight and messed with the handle.

“What exactly…no.” Omile stopped talking and sat there for a few seconds. “How does what your father want to do conflict with Salem? Does he not want you with him or is it more of a future based reason?” Omile got it all out in pieces, obviously thinking about each phrase carefully before it left her mouth.

“Well…” Daman took a sip of the tea. “It’s kind of a future based reason.”

“What do you mean by kind of?” Omile gave him a puzzled look.

“This is going to sound weird and most likely confusing, because it is, but uh, my dad sort of hooked me up with Salem. But not because he thought we would be compatible, more for me, no for him, to use Salem to his benefit.”

“So you’re using Salem?” Omile sat up more, an aggravated look now on her face.

“In the beginning yes, maybe like the first two or three days but I've actually fallen in love with him and now I can’t do my job because it’s going to end up hurting him and I don’t want to hurt him.”

Omile opened her mouth to say something but soon closed it and sat there for a few seconds, breathing in and out slowly. “How are you-I mean, how is your dad using Salem?”

“I can’t tell you.” Daman took another sip of his tea.

“How badly do you need to do this job?” Omile asked, obviously trying not to explode on him.

“Well, I really want to do what my mom wanted me to do before she died and the only way I can do that is if I do this task that my dad is making me do. He won’t let me do it any other way.”

Omile sighed and looked up at him. “And what is it you want to do?”

“I can’t tell you because you won’t understand, not that you aren’t smart or anything, but just because it’s not something you would know about and if it is I don’t know how you would react so I would rather not tell you.”

“It’s alright, you don’t have to tell me, I’m just trying to get any information I can so I can help you, but right now all I know is that you used Salem and now feel bad about it but you still want to do this thing that involves you using him but it’s not really using him now because you love him but at the same time you are still using him and you just want to do what your mom wanted you to do and not have to use Salem to get the job done.”

“Yes, but if I get the job done there is no way at all that I will be able to ever see him again.”

“Why?” Omile cocked her head in confusion. Daman stared at her a few seconds before she nodded.

“So now do you see why I’m so confused?” Daman leaned forward.

“Yes, all I can say is that you should do what you find the most important, because both things are very important. Which one is more important to you?”

“I don’t know!”

“Hey, hey calm down. Why don’t we make a list of pro’s and con’s of each.”

“But Salem’s con’s is I’ll never get to see him.”

“And what are the con’s of your mom?”

“Not fulfilling the dream my mom had for me, which I owe to her because I didn’t spend time with her at all when she was alive.”

“Look, I’m not going to be able to tell you what to do….but if I was in this situation I would choose my mom over my boyfriend. Only because I love my mom to pieces and I feel that she deserves everything in the world because of what happened to her and I’ve never had a boyfriend or romantic interest in anybody before. It is up to you on what you do, but that’s what I would do.”

“Thank you, it means a lot for your help.”

“Of course, but um, if you choose your mom please don’t tell me. I don’t want to know that you’re going to be using my best friend, and I know that you actually do love him but you get what I mean.”

“Yes I do, thank you for the advice.” He set the empty tea mug down. “And thank you for the tea.” He nodded at her and waved goodbye as he went to the front of the shop.

“Sorry for not being all that much of help.” Omile set her cup down and smiled at him.

“You’re fine, you tried your best with what I gave you and I think you did help me.”

“Well, that's good.” Omile whatched him walk to the front of the shop. “And Daman.” Daman turned around and looked at her as he opened the door. “Maybe your mom wanted you to figure it out for yourself, that's probably why she didn’t help you.” He nodded and left the building.

As he closed the door behind him to preserve the heat and to keep it from messing up the flowers environment, he was immediately smacked in the face with cold air as he stepped out of the shop, causing him to wrap his arms tightly around his body as most of the heat left him. This is the only thing that makes him miss hell. It was always nice and warm there and never cold. At all. His breaths of air puffed out into little clouds as he huddled in and waddled back home, thinking about what Omile had told him. Which one was more important to him? Salem? Or his mom? He grunted and tightened his fists. They’re both equally important for different reasons. How could he possibly figure out which one was more important when they’re both equally important. He sighed and looked back at Omile’s shop.

“Figure out which one is more important to me huh…” He started walking backwards as he stared at the shop. “Well then. Guess I’ll have to do a test.” He turned around again and started walking at a faster pace. “And I know just the test to give them.” He smirked and lifted his hand up in a slight waving motion to the shop. “Thanks Omile, I see why Salem fancies you so much.” He smirked and put his hands into his pockets, sauntering back to his house.