The demon smiled into the coming clouds, feeling the heaviness of the air, the promise that had been building long before the sun had set the night before. There was electricity in the air, the scent of building rain, the morning sun overwhelmed by the approaching storm.
The potential had truly become promise near midnight, but he had still wondered if the promise were true or if it was like one of his own, seductive and alluring, but ultimately false. After his encounter with the bride-to-be, he had simply walked for awhile, basking in the energy of the people around him, their happiness, both real and faked, their sadness that was never a mask. Desperation coursed around him at the entrances to bars and he fed on it, taking a moment here and there to bring it to the forefront before rudely crushing it under his smile.
He was mildly surprised when the black haired woman from before, the friend of the bride, stepped into the bar he was sitting in at the moment. He had his eye lightly on a pair, an older woman and her husband, spicing up their love-life, he presumed, but he released them as she entered, an internal smile growing broader. The night, he realized, was full of promise after all.
The black haired woman looked about the bar, her eyes finally landing on him then skimming off to inspect the floor. “Subtle,” he mused, watching her bemusedly as she turned and headed back out the door, her pace quick and awkward. He had almost given up on the situation when the door slammed back open, a large man all in black striding in with an almost palpable air of anger and hatred. The demon sat up straighter, draining his glass.
The man was firm, muscles from high school football not yet turning to fat with every beer that passed his lips. His features were rough and uneven, his hands crossed with fine scars. He marched through the room with the grace of a steam train, his fists clenched at his side, his eyes locked on the demon, shaking his head with every step to keep his ragged brown hair out of his eyes.
The punch that came at the demon was so obvious, he simply settled slightly to one side, the glass of breaking glass and wood bringing the bar to a halt. The demon glanced lazily at the wall behind him, the jagged hole still full of mirror, reflecting him back to himself a hundred times over, then looked back at the man who was bringing his other fist back before him.
The demon stood and straightened his shirt, catching the second blow with one hand and holding it at bay, his voice soft even in the near silence.
“What is your name?”
The man was thrown off his train of emotion, derailed by the strangeness of the request, confusion eating his resolve.
“You fucker...”
“I asked a simple question,” the demon stepped in closer, the man’s fist still held tight, “what is your name?”
The man floundered, lost in the simplicity of the question, “Uh...uh...Ted. You.. fucked...”
The demon smiled, pushing on Ted’s hand until he backed up a step, stepping with him, “Ted...you must be the bridegroom, out to enjoy a final night of bachelorhood.”
Ted’s eyes darkened at the mockery, his original intentions beginning to return.
“I suggest,” the demon continued, forcing Ted back one more step before releasing the man’s hand, “we continue this outside. There are people here who wish only for a quiet drink.”
He had no compunctions about turning his back on Ted, the man was simple, easy to read. Easy to manipulate. He would follow the demon outside, still wondering what exactly had happened to his simple plan of marching in and beating the shit out of the man who had violated his bride. He would follow all the way into the darkest corner of the parking lot before he truly realized what he was doing, then he would lash out again.
Even as the demon thought all this, it was coming true, Ted’s fist travelling rapidly towards the back of his head. It was a useless gesture, the demon simply stepped aside, leaving the momentum with nowhere to go, the force with nowhere to dissipate. Instead of crunching satisfactorally into flesh, the fist slammed into brick and mortar, Ted’s howl of pain rising into the night as he whirled to try and follow his intended victem.
Again he struck, again the demon was seemingly not where he should be, always a step too far one way, a hair too far the other. Again and again they moved in a lumbering dance, the man stumbling, the demon gliding, leading him away from the safety of the parking lot.
“Goddamnit, fight, you fucker.”