Soul Guardian - Chapter 8: Waffles and Wedding Rings

Sunlight was streaming through the windows and the fire had burned down to nothing when Bael woke up. There were unfamiliar sounds and smells coming from the kitchen. Cautiously he crept around the corner on velvet hooves wondering what exactly was going on. What he saw made no sense. Maharet was making breakfast while Six watched from her perch on the counter. Bael was surprised to see that Maharet was wearing an apron she had found somewhere.

It fit with the whole retro aesthetic of the house. The pink hearts embroidered on the fabric matched the ceramic tile over the sink.

“You two seem to be hitting it off.” Bael observed. Six glared at him but didn’t attempt any banishing spells so Bael figured that was at least a minor improvement.

“Did you know Maharet can cook?” Six asked. “She’s making bacon and eggs with waffles on the side.”

“No, I didn’t know that. What’s a waffle?” Bael asked, his fascination with food and desire for company were fighting his innate desire to be wherever Maharet wasn’t.

“It’s like a pancake, but better.” Maharet explained with a knowing smirk. “Ask nicely and I just might make you one.”

If he had been thinking with his brain instead of his stomach Bael might have chosen his next words a little bit more carefully. The second they were out of his mouth he realized his mistake, but by then it was too late.

When he was back in his regular demonic form Six was laughing so hard that orange juice was shooting out her nose and even Maharet was cackling along.

“That was not what I meant!” Bael exclaimed once he was over the shock of being unexpectedly transmogrified into breakfast food. “I was all… segmented and doughy.” He shuddered.

“Oh come off it you were already pretty doughy to start and at least I changed you back.” Maharet handed over a plate of food as a peace offering. “Now stop whining and eat your breakfast. ”

It took Bael a few minutes to get over the feeling that somehow he was committing cannibalism but eventually he took a bite. “Waffles are delicious!” He exclaimed, his former qualms forgotten. “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted!”

“Well I’m glad that you like my cooking so much.” Maharet took a sip of her coffee. “Just wait until you try one with strawberries and ice cream.”

Bael looked up from his plate in surprise, bits of egg over easy clinging to his beard. “You can do that?”

—

With breakfast sorted and an uneasy truce established, that meant it was time for Bael and Maharet to start working on their long term plans. First things first they needed a vehicle of their own, they couldn’t keep driving Mike’s BMW. Eventually someone would come looking for him and that meant they had to make a clean break. Besides, a quick check revealed that everything including the house and the car had been rented and with nobody paying the bills repossession was inevitable.

They would have to find a house somewhere far enough away that Six could get a fresh start while they started looking for an acceptable family to take her in. The last thing Bael wanted was any unsavory rumors about her former foster home frightening people off. He knew enough about people to understand that any sign that Six might be damaged goods would make getting her adopted that much harder. It was an unfortunate fact that the children who needed a loving family the most were often passed over.

It didn’t seem right to him that a child as special as Six had been treated so poorly by the foster care system. If her origins had been less tragic or she had been just a few years younger eager couples would have jumped at the chance to offer her a new home. Instead she had lingered in the system for years before that parasite found her. Bael made a mental note to look Mike up when he returned to hell. He was looking forward to having a more in depth conversation with him about the duties a guardian had to their ward and the penalties for betraying that trust.

Bael couldn’t help but draw parallels between his own life and Six’s. They both had been victims of circumstance. His own involvement in the war with heaven and his subsequent exile to hell had been largely involuntary. Lucifer had brought him to life, thrust a halberd into his hands then sent him off to kill or die in a war that he had no chance of winning. The assorted hordes of what would eventually become hell might have just as well thrown themselves into the sun for all the good their attempts at rebellion had done.

After the fall Bael had been given a job and rules to abide by, rules he hadn’t dared question. Working within those rules had given his existence a certain level of comfort, but precious little satisfaction. Now that he was older and wiser he was just beginning to realize how little control over his life he had ever really had.

This book’s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right. But if he had any say in things he wouldn’t allow Six to share a similar fate. “I won’t let her be a victim of circumstance anymore,” Bael promised aloud as he bundled himself up to face the cool damp world outside. “I’ll give her the chances that I never had.”

—

On the cab ride over to the car dealership Bael found himself attempting to make small talk. It was either that or linger in the empty silence between potholes. “So where did you learn to cook human food?”

“I used to work in the hall of the gluttons.” She explained. “We had to force feed those fat slobs food by the barrel. I still pull a shift now and again when they’re short handed. It’s a nice change from board meetings and planning committees. I miss working with my own two claws. I miss being creative, you know?”

“Yeah, I feel you. Sometimes it’s nice to just be able to switch off and do some mindless chores around the old torture pit. Ever since I got promoted I’ve felt like I always have to prove myself, always be on the defensive. I miss being able to just show up, do my work then go home. ” Bael admitted. “You know, things were a lot simpler when we were younger.”

“I never pegged you as the nostalgic type, Bael.”

“Maybe just a little bit. I never really considered myself as the kind of demon to cling to the past. But you have to admit, things were better back then. Remember the Elysian fields? They’re a parking lot now.” He let out a snort of derision. “If that’s progress then I don’t want any part of it.”

It was at that moment when Bael realized that the cab driver was looking back at them with concern.

“My wife and I are actors.” Bael lied without missing a beat. “We’re getting into character for a play. Perhaps you’ve heard of it? It’s called ‘Help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.’ it’s about two demons trapped on earth.”

The cab driver didn’t seem to know what to make of that but apparently had decided on his own that they were just ordinary weirdos instead of escaped demons. They passed the rest of the cab ride in awkward silence.

—

“Your wife?” Maharet asked once they were alone on the sidewalk outside the dealership. Rain had started to pour down and her normally vibrant curls were plastered flat against her skull. Steam was rising off of her in great waves like someone was trying to iron her clothes with her still in them. “Isn’t that jumping the gun a bit?”

“It’s simpler if we pretend we’re married.” Bael explained. “Fewer awkward questions that way.”

“You might have asked first.” Maharet said, a hint of sulk in her voice.

“Would you have said yes?” Bael shot back.

“Obviously not.”

“See, that’s why I didn’t ask. Now can we go in there and pick out a car so we can go home?”

But Maharet wasn’t about to let him get off that easily. “Get down on your knees and ask properly.” She demanded.

“Right now? In the pouring rain? You’re joking.” He looked down at the puddles of water on the sidewalk. “You aren’t joking, are you?”

“Not in the slightest. Now, kneel.”

There was nothing for it. Bael accepted his soggy fate and knelt down in the pouring rain. “Maharet Flameheart, will you do me the honor of being my pretend wife?”

“Where’s my ring? There’s supposed to be a ring.” Maharet prompted. “With a nice big diamond.” She added, because if she was playing she might as well play for keeps. “At least a two carat solitaire, princess cut.”

(The exchange of wedding rings with precious stones was a human tradition that demons had only recently adopted, which went to show that nobody was ever truly safe from DeBeers.)

Bael weighed his options. “If I say we can pick up a ring on our way home will you let me back up? I’m getting soaked down here.”

“Nope.” She shook her head sending droplets of water cascading from her hair. “I need my ring first.”

“I haven’t got one on me.” Bael said.

“Too bad, you should have gotten one before you asked me to marry you. Perhaps in the future you’ll think twice before assuming I’ll just go along with your little schemes.”

“Fine, have it your way.” Bael picked a rock up off the ground and rolled it around between his fingers thoughtfully. ”What exactly is a princess cut?”

“It’s like an inverted pyramid.” She explained. “You would know it if you saw it.”

Delicately Bael took her hand between both of his and closed his eyes. She could feel something metallic and cold weaving its way around her ring finger. “I hope you like it.” He said. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Maharet let out an involuntary squeal of delight when she saw the finished work resting on her finger. It was made up of platinum and gold woven together in an impossible lattice with a perfect diamond almost half an inch across set in the center flanked by two smaller but no less exquisite stones.

“Oh Bael.” She said, momentarily forgetting herself. “It’s perfect.”

Of course Bael was completely oblivious to the undertones of his gift and had to ruin the moment. “Glad you like the ring.” He said as he got up and brushed himself off. “Now let’s get inside. It’s wetter than Styx out here.”