So…how do I translate demon again? (Journal Entry #41)

Anyway, it was a few days before Cormac came to me again. 

He was full of questions about the things the demon had said to me that day. 

“Why could you understand what he said?” Cormac demanded. “Mak didn’t; and he’s spoken demon languages for three hundred years.”

I just stared at him. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. He yelled it; I understood it. I wasn’t exactly thinking, How do I translate demon? when it was happening. I’ve never even seen a demon until that day. And I don’t want to see another one ever again.”

He stepped closer; no doubt the big jerk was trying to intimidate me. Well, he’d tried that many times before when I was Theo’s poor beleaguered secretary—as Mickey described me a few days ago. 

She likes to yank Theo’s chain whenever she can. It’s good for him; he’s far too serious in his old age. 

I was (moderately) used to Cormac’s tactics. He’s not a bully. Far from it. He’s actually a big softie at times. But when it comes to protecting the city, he’s relentless. 

“I…I honestly didn’t realize I understood what he said. Is it some kind of demon thing? Something they do with their victims?” I like to think I know how to handle the male in front of me. The way a house cat can handle a tiger, maybe, but I have gotten good over the last fifty years at hiding my anxieties about things. 

Working for Theo hasn’t been easy. But I’ve gained a few skills in fifty years. 

“Not that we’re aware of. Whatever he said—you somehow automatically knew what he was saying. We’re trying to figure out why.”

I felt a sudden stabbing in my head. Not painful, but very, very noticeable. I lifted a hand to my head and cried out softly.

Then I looked up at him as I remembered. Cormac was one of the few members of our Kind who could read people’s thoughts. “Stop it. You’re hurting me. I think y-you’d better leave. I don’t know what it is you want from me or why you think I know what’s happening. All I know is someone wants me dead. And a demon screamed at me about a queen. You’re the predatoi. You figure it out. But leave me alone!”

I didn’t wait for his reply. I just ran. There was a guard from Cormac’s House assigned to me today. I was only vaguely aware of him following me. He was younger than I am, and hadn’t said much. Just watched every move I made.

You know, on my three trips this week to the library. And the two times Kellis has lured me out to the moderately priced cafe on the main level—where the more “common” of our Kind would patronize. You know, the exact opposite of the exclusive restaurant on the top level where Mak had taken me.

Because I am such a scary threat!

In that moment, I absolutely utterly beyond a doubt despised Cormac Jareth with every fiber of my being.

Why can’t these males just leave me alone?

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