Mal would try to squeeze a few of them out of him before he drained him dry.
Not trusting the ancient plank connecting the dock to the boat, Mal jumped over it with ease. The moment his feet hit the deck surrounding the first level, a door opened and out popped Eira, looking stressed and frantic.
When she spotted him, she snapped, “Finally!” and shoved a sticky, softly sobbing Tommy into his arms. Tommy stopped crying the moment Mal automatically accepted him and buried his tiny face into Mal’s neck. Sticky hands twined into Mal’s hair, and the boy gave an exhausted hiccup.
What?
“I don’t know what took you so long,” Eira continued. “I’ve been up to my elbows in chaos for hours now. You feed Tommy and put him to bed while I sort everything else out.” Eira turned and vanished inside, shouting behind her, “If you’re waiting foran engraved invitation, it’s not happening. Get your butt in here and get to work.”
Mal stood frozen in place as his world flipped upside down.
Apparently, being a drama queen wasn’t exclusive to humans.
Chapter
Thirteen
MAL
He dipped his head as he went through the doorway, not because the door was small but so he could avoid the pile of goo flying at him as he entered.
“Ah! Reinforcements,” Grampy said, relief clear in his voice. He moved to join Mal, the old man’s hunched form surprisingly strong as he dragged Mal away from the doorway. “Merry and Tommy are both having a tough time with dinner today, and you’re the perfect person to help out.”
Mal barely gave Grampy a glance as he was manhandled over to Merry. His attention was thoroughly elsewhere.
“See, kids? Mal here understands the importance of eating properly. You can tell by how big he is.”
Mal would have told the man that he was big because he chose to be big, but he was too busy gaping at the massive holein the center of the living space. It was even larger than the one Mal had seen on the hull. It was easily as wide as Mal was tall, and he could see all the way down, past the bottom level, and into the water below.
Was he the only one seeing this? The other occupants in the room were acting like the hole was a benign design choice rather than a critical breach in the ship's structural integrity.
Then again, much like the hole outside, this hole was also defying the laws of physics. If Mal could accept one reality-bending hole in Clayton’s home, why not a second, larger one?
When he turned to ask Grampy what would happen if one of the kids fell into the hole, a spoonful of something horrible was stuffed unceremoniously into his mouth.
Something inside Mal died as Grampy exclaimed in delight, “Look how happy he is, Merry. He’s been shocked into silence with delight. I told you my mushroom loaf was delicious. Now it’s your turn.” Grampy reloaded the spoon and held it out to Merry.
If he’d been at full strength, Mal would have needed to warn Grampy that the spoon was coated in venom after being in his mouth, but since he was hanging on by a thread, that feature had gone into hibernation mode. He would have to remember to reactivate it if he wanted to use it again.
Not that Mal would have been able to warn Grampy if it had been active. His taste buds were being so violated that it was all Mal could do to stay corporeal.
Not again. Not when he was so close… Mal shivered as he fought to stay together. It never even occurred to him to spit out the food. His system was so confused that he accidentally swallowed the abomination in his mouth.
Grampy and Merry stared at Mal expectantly, one in happy anticipation of hearing how amazing his creation was, the other in morbid curiosity.
How dare someone actually shove tangible food into his mouth? What a disgusting, vile process eating something other than terror was. Why anyone would do so was beyond Mal’s understanding.
On occasion, Mal was known to bite someone during a feeding frenzy and consume blood, but it wasn’t necessary. It was more like extra seasoning added to enhance an already delicious meal.
Eating the mushroom loaf was beyond unacceptable, and he couldn’t even spit it back out. He briefly considered clawing the food out of himself, but decided it would be an overreaction in the face of how low on essence he was.
Healing a gaping stomach wound would end his ability to maintain a physical form, and spending the next few months drifting around, feeding off the ambient fear of sentient creatures until he could gain a physical vessel, was the last thing he wanted to do.
Mal wasn’t a demon, precisely, nor was he a traditional nightmare. Once a demon gained physical form, they kept it until it was destroyed—and them along with it. Which was why they tended to fuck off to the demon realm as soon as they were able to make a body. The demon realm worked differently from the Real. Life couldn’t be destroyed there, only transformed.
Demons went to the demon realm because it was better than being found and obliterated by the Guard. The longer one stayed in the Real, the more likely they were to get caught and destroyed.
Only in the demon realm could a demon find true safety. Even if they were eaten by a larger demon, they got to join with it and become part of a greater whole. If they stayed in the Real, the only option was an eventual confrontation with the Guard that would lead to their unmaking.
