Modifying memories is not difficult.  When I removed the time bubble David's friends were sure that the young redhead (whose name was Erin) had fainted and they had helped David to get her to the sofa.  They also remembered David's slightly exotic looking flatmate arriving just as they had settled her and decided that there was no need to call for medical assistance.

"What's going on?" I asked innocently as the four of them came out of the time stop.

"We were - erh - experimenting," said David.  "Erin fainted."

I put on a puzzled expression, looking from one face to another.  One of David's friends came to the rescue.

"Erin seems to have some sort of - power," she said,  "we were trying to find out how it worked."

"Not too well for Erin," I observed.

"She just passed out," said one of the two young men.  "It was weird - one minute she was talking about having to concentrate on the source of the energy and the next - out like a light."

At this point Erin woke up.

"Wow," she said in a husky sort of voice, "did I have a dream.  There was this ........."  She caught sight of me and stopped.

I gave her a reassuring smile.  "Hi," I said.  "I'm Michael, David's flatmate.  I seem to have missed all the excitement."

"But you were - I mean in the dream there was - and it was you."  She was barely coherent.

"I was what?" I asked as guilelessly as I could.

"I'm sorry," she said.  "In this dream I'd summoned a - a - sort of a demon.  It looked a lot like you.  But that must be my memory playing tricks.  I mean I've never seen you before - right?"

"I'd have remembered," I said gallantly.

Erin turned to the others.  "One thing, though," she said, "I am never trying anything like that again.  This dream or hallucination or whatever - it felt like - like my soul was being pulled out of my body."

The taller of the two girls looked rather disappointed.  "But what else happened while you were in the trance?" she asked eagerly.  "Did you feel like you were in touch with any sort of power?"

For some reason Erin glanced at me before she spoke.  "I - I don't want to talk about it," she said.  "I want to to forget it happened.  I just know I was in danger - real danger.  We all were."  She stood up.  "David, can you call me a taxi.  I need to go home and rest."

"Are you OK?"  David asked by way of reply.  "Wouldn't you rather rest a bit - have some tea - something stronger?"

"No - no thanks, I'd rather get home."

The taxi collected Erin and the others left soon after.  David collapsed in a heap on the sofa.  I poured him a whisky, which he drank rather too quickly and held out the glass for a refill.

"Try and let this one touch the sides," I said handing him the replenished drink.  He grinned and began to sip the spirit.

"Are you going to explain?" he asked.

"If you drink too fast you'll get drunk," I said.

"Not that - what happened to Erin - all that with the angel."

"You know," I said, "I'm not sure that I ought not to have modified your memory like I did to the others."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because you are more than just a patient - as you very well know."

"So?" he said.  He certainly is persistent.

"Okay," I capitulated.  "Where to begin?  There are different kinds of energy in the universe and as you know different universes.  Energies can be transferred between the universes.  Humans were never meant to be able to sense energies from outside their own universe but some - and they are very rare - can.  Even rarer are those who can focus the energies and, if they're stupid enough, try to use them.  Erin was one who could begin to focus external energies."

"Was?"

"Bradley desensitised her when he took out the rogue field.  She's no longer in danger."

"But danger from what?" said David.

"Destruction."

"You mean that - energy stuff - it could have killed her?"

"Much worse than that - it would have ripped her soul apart and scattered the pieces all over the multiverse."

"It can kill her soul?"

"Nothing can kill a soul.  All the disintegrated pieces would be fully aware.  You couldn't begin to imagine minutest fragment of the agony a disintegrated soul suffers - and not all the power of all the angels could repair the damage or relieve the suffering of the smallest part."

"But you can handle the power."

"I am a demon," I said.  "I have no soul as such.  I am a purely spiritual being composed of the same stuff as the energies themselves."

"So what would have happened if you hadn't been here?"

"Probably nothing.  Most sensitives don't have the ability to produce more than the vague energy concentration I found when I got here.  But I couldn't take a chance.  Not with you involved."

Five pairs of eyes widened in astonishment.  I'd forgotten to change my shape - wings, fiery eyes the lot.
I did a quick spell and put four of them in a time bubble.  For David's sake I changed into my most human form.  He was pale and shaking and not because of my unexpected entrance.

There was a girl lying in heap on the floor.  She was about David's age with corkscrew red hair and a pale freckled complexion.  Her eyes were wide open staring a nothing and there was blood trickling from her nose and ears.  She was the source of the energy field. The signs were unmistakable.  Healing is not my department so I quickly summoned one of the white wingers.

"Help me get her to the couch," I told David.  For all her immobility she was fully conscious and any type of spell might have unhinged what was left of her senses.

David did his fish impersonation for a minute then he said, "I - I didn't think she - I mean I didn't know - that stuff - I didn't know it existed."

"Idiot," I snapped at him, "where do you think I get the power for all the stuff I do - Duracell Batteries?"

"No but - she - God, will she be alright?"

"I've told you before not to call me God," I replied.  "I'm not a healer but I've sent for one.  The energy field was diffuse and unfocused.  There's a good chance no real harm's been done."

At that point one of the angel types walked in through the wall, causing David to jump like a startled rabbit.

"David, this is Bradley," I introduced them.  David looked impressed, which irritated me slightly.  In semi-human disguise, Bradley manages to look like a Christmas card angel - big blue eyes, blond hair (golden according to Bradley) and useless, white, feathery wings. 

To give Bradley his due, however, he didn't mess about with questions or accusations.  He got straight down to the business of dealing with the casualty.  "Is all the energy contained?" he asked me as he made the usual weird passes over the patient.  I nodded.  "Then all I have to do is remove what's inside her and desensitize her.

It sounds simple enough and it looks simple when you watch it done, but that kind of operation is amazingly tricky.  One wrong move - a wrong thought even and you can drag the patient's own life force out along with the rogue field.  Bradley is an expert at this kind of operation.  Watching him is a privilege I freely admit.  In a short time the girl's eyes had stopped staring and she was actually asleep.  Hovering just above her head was a sphere of smoky light.

"Yours, I think," said Bradley.  I contained the sphere, sent it outside and dissipated it back into the universe.

"Thanks, Bradley," I meant it.

"All part of the service," he said airily.  "I must rush.  I'll leave you to sort out the others, shall I?"  Without waiting for a reply he went out the way he'd come in.

"Was that an angel?" David asked, slightly awestruck.

"That was Bradley," I replied, a little more coldly than was necessary.  "As usual, he's left me with the clearing up to do.  This one will be asleep for a couple of hours at least but I have to deal with the other four."

"Deal?" David asked nervously.

"I need to modify their memories," I said.  "It won't hurt.  They'll just think the whole seance or whatever ended with your girlfriend there fainting."

To be concluded.

I've had to leave David to his own devices for a while.  He's not my only patient although I spend more time with him than with any of the others.  He's the only one I actually live with and most of the time I can deal with my various other responsibilities during his working day.

But some urgent business has kept me away for several centuries in reality.  Of course, since I can manipulate time, it seems like only a few months in David's reality.

As soon as I got into town I could tell there was something going on - something that ought not to be happening.  For one thing there was a high concentration of energy over the city the sort you only get when some body has been meddling in things that are not to be meddled in.  Ninety nine point nine recurring percent of your so-called mediums and channellers are nothing more than fakes, self -deluded ones at best, outright charlatans at worst, but once in a hundred years you find a real sensitive and if they realise their own power - there's trouble.

Dealing with this sort of manifestation (I almost said "infestation") is part of any senior demon's job.  The first thing is to get in and analyze the energy fields to see what kind of power is being released and how strong it is.  In this case the energy was diffuse and of a very general nature.  Either the sensitive was very weak or they had only recently discovered their "gift" and were unsure how to focus it.  In one sense that was good.  It meant that nothing much had been done.  You have to focus the energy to actually achieve anything and this field was far too vague to be of any practical use.  All the same it was dangerous.  Left to itself it could have produced all sorts of undesirable effects.  It could even have latched on to some unsuspecting mortal, which could have been disastrous.

So the first thing to do was to contain it.  And this is the first problem with diffuse fields like that.  They are bloody hard to pin down.  You put it in containment and find that there are "whispy bits" all round the edges that have escaped the containment spells.  So you have to widen the containment and then you find detached bits floating about that weren't "visible" against the brightness of the main field.  Like when the fire goes out; the fireplace looks dark until you turn off the room lights and you see the sparks.

Anyway, that done, the next step is to find the source and that's the second pain in the butt with these vague fields - finding the idiotic mortal who released it.  It's like trying to find a kettle in the fog.

And then I got really worried.

The calculations all led to one place - David's apartment building!

I knew David wasn't sensitive but it's just possible that a demon like myself can leave an "imprint" on a place and that "imprint" could waken latent sensitivity or even induce it.  I made straight for our apartment.  If it wasn't actually there the source had to be close and I wanted to be sure that the little dork was safe before I tackled the energy field.  If I had one, my heart would have been in my mouth as I materialized outside the door.  As it was my hand shook a little as I put the key in the lock and opened the door.

"YOU MORON!" I was at screaming pitch.  "WHAT THE FUCK D'YOU THINK YOU'RE PLAYING AT?"


To be continued.

And so it came. The Big Day. Or so I’ve heard humans call it, thereby investing in those twenty four hours far more than they could hope to deliver. Because it encompasses so much, I suppose. It’s the Christ event, it’s the Winter solstice, it’s the return of the sun and the renewal of hope and the magic of Father Christmas, Santa Claus, Pere Noel and many others besides. It once caused a heartbeat’s pause in the progress of War and created a new myth to add to the centuries old store it already carries.

And it’s only a day. Twenty four hours. Children wish it could last forever but you don’t have the power to put it in a time bubble. It passes like any other day at the same rate of sixty minutes per hour. People die, people kill and babies are born.

But still you believe. You exchange gifts and try as hard as you can to like the people you can’t stand – “For the sake of the Season”.

If nothing else, Christmas restores something of the power of Belief.

 

Our Christmas?

I woke David about eight with a festive breakfast of smoked salmon, scrambled eggs and Buck’s Fizz (Champagne and orange juice for the uninitiated). He was looking a little more cheerful. Perhaps it was the power of Christmas after all, or maybe he was just getting over the Eyes.

“Merry Christmas,” I said, plonking the breakfast tray on his lap.

“And the same to you,” he replied, less sleepily than usual. “Thanks,” he added, indicating the festive repast. “Two plates?”

“I thought I’d join you,” I said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Just because I don’t eat, it doesn’t mean that I can’t. And it is Christmas.”

We lingered over breakfast and I went to wash the dishes while David showered and dressed. I was waiting for him the living room. It took a while but eventually he got round to noticing the packages under the tree.

“What are those?” he asked. This boy has a mind like a razor.

“Gifts,” I said. “Since you failed to hang up a stocking, Santa has left them under the tree. I believe that is the traditional alternative.”

“But…”

Nothing further was forthcoming, so I asked. “But what?”

“Who would give me presents? Other than the “Secret Santa” game at work no one knows me that well.”

“Santa does,” I said. “Obviously you are still on his list.”

“You’re not telling me there is a Santa Claus.”

“You doubt it,” I said, “after you watched “Polar Express” the other night?”

“They’re really for me?” What does it take to convince this boy?

“They have your name on them.” I said. “Maybe you’d better open them.”

David knelt on the floor beside the little heap of brightly wrapped parcels. “I haven’t done this since I was a child,” he said.

He looked like a child, too. He picked up each package and examined it carefully, feeling it, shaking it and even sniffing it, trying to guess what was inside. He left them unopened until he had tested them all. It was quite the ritual. Finally he selected one and began to peel off the wrapping paper. It was an art book by a Japanese comic artist. David was ecstatic. I’d chosen well.

“You got all these, didn’t you?” he said as the final piece of gold paper joined the pile of discarded wrapping.

“Did I? I did get you this one.” I’d kept one package beside me to hand to David. He went through the examining and guessing ritual.

“Will you open it?” I said. “You’ll never guess anyway – not completely.”

He slid the long, thin box out of the wrapping paper and opened it to reveal a necklace of silver and onyx beads.

“It’s lovely.” I barely heard the whisper. “Thank you.”

“It’s a bit special,” I explained. “It has a charm on it to protect you from serious injury. And as long as you wear it you’ll never have a cold or ‘flu – or a hangover.”

He slipped it on. I had to help him with the clasp. This boy is all thumbs. It suited him. Black and silver are David’s colours. I told him so. He got rather emotional, which is your cue to leave us.

 

Current Location: At home
Current Mood: soppy
Current Music: Hark, the Herald Demons Sing

Christmas Eve isn’t a public holiday in this country but 26 December is, so David’s office, like many others, didn’t bother opening on Monday only to close again on Tuesday and Wednesday. David was looking pretty miserable. His thoughts told me why, but I was being polite so I asked.

“Not all of my relatives were totally horrible,” he said, “but, being dead, I won’t get cards or gifts from any of them and I can’t send any to them.  The same goes for my friends and I haven’t had time to make new friends. Except – well – that was a non-starter.”

He was obviously referring to the Eyes. I could have reminded him that he still had me, but it occurred to me that there was a remote possibility that it might make him feel worse. I can be very empathic when I try.

I surprised David by switching on the television to watch a Carol Service from some university or other. He even managed a grin when they sang “an angel of the Lord came down and glory shone around.”

“Just as well they won that toss,” he teased.

“Meaning?” I said, playing along.

“Imagine singing about a demon of the Lord,” he replied.

“It has a certain ring to it.”

David merely laughed but his mood lightened enough for me suggest going down to the pub for a festive drink. I was a trifle worried when he agreed without his usual complaint about being seen at the “Blue Boar” with a bloke who wears lipstick, but at least it was getting him out of the flat.

It was still early evening but the place was already getting quite crowded. Most of the regulars were in, propping up the bar and bemoaning the fact that the Boar would be closing early on Christmas Day. One of them, I think he drives a taxi, noticed us.

“Evenin’, Michelle.”

Bloody cheek. Not even the spirit of goodwill to all men was going to get him off that one. A quick scan of his thoughts revealed that he was trying not to forget an important errand for his wife that he was supposed to complete before he went home. I erased it.

“And a merry Christmas to you, too,” I answered, giving him one of my most dazzling smiles. It made him nervous for some reason. David just looked worried.

“You’re not going to do anything,” he whispered.

“I’ve done it,” I said. “But he won’t know until he gets home.”

Over in the corner, I spotted the Trio. They were all well into their seventies, the archetypal grumpy old men. I liked them. Their continual complaining amused me and they treated me as if I were a mere youth of twenty something, which is funny when you’ve been around for four billion years or so. They’d just finished a hand of dominoes and invited me over to join the game. Of course, I can see all their hands by reading their minds, so it’s easy to lose more often than not and to lose spectacularly at that. To them it just confirms that girls and girly-looking blokes don’t have the intellect for dominoes. A few hands and as many drinks later, they’d lambasted today’s youth (meaning anyone under fifty), Christmas, television, pop music, politicians of any and every stripe and the flavour of modern turkeys. They made even David look cheerful by comparison, which had the effect of actually cheering him up. Or maybe that was the Guinness.

David just watched the game, which attracted a number of spectators. He found himself surrounded by good humoured, mildly intoxicated people who knew him slightly and liked him. All in all the atmosphere was convivial and certainly achieved my object of making David feel better.

At around eleven the party broke up as people decided it was time to head for home and family.

Back at the flat, I decided to bend a few rules and made a fireplace, complete with pine log fire, appear in the blank wall of the living room. I heated a poker and mulled ale for us both in the traditional manner.

“You planned that didn’t you?” said David, sipping his drink.

“I did,” I confessed.

“Thanks.”

“Happy Christmas,” I said, raising my glass.

“Happy Christmas.”

 

 

To be continued

 

And here it is – the Christmas episode. Yes I know the festering season is over, but I couldn’t  write about it before it happened, could I? Well I could as it happens, but I’ve decided to play by the rules of this world and not jump in time. It confuses David and my namesake biographer or whatever he is.
Why am bothering with a festive episode at all? I’m not sure really. It started on a whim and David wouldn’t let it rest until I’d sent this in (David corrected me here – apparently I ought to say “posted”). Until this current assignment had me more or less earthbound, I hadn’t spent a Christmas in human company for at least five centuries and I was somewhat unprepared for television. Not the medium itself, you understand, I was around when it was invented, lost and reinvented. It’s the stuff you watch on it I wasn’t ready for. I mean to say if ever there was a good excuse to time skip and make sure something didn’t happen, television has to be it. There is actually no such place as Hell but I imagine that being forced to view an eternity of soap operas and reality shows must come pretty close.
However, I digress. Soap operas and such are the reason for my writing a holiday episode. They all seem to have one, comedies, dramas or any other genre, they have to have an episode centred around Christmas. I said as much to David.
“Why don’t you post a Christmas version of your LJ?” he said, by way of a challenge.
“Fact or fiction?” I countered.
“May as well be fact,” he said. I noticed the slyness behind his voice. “No one will believe it anyway.”
“Probably just as well for you,” I replied. “If people thought you really believed you had a demon for a flatmate, they’d have you in a nice, cosy room with padded walls before you knew it.”
So it was decided that I should write you all an account of our Christmas.
 

“The Christmas Episode”

“I believe some form of decoration is traditional,” I said to David a week or so before the big day. Our apartment was looking decidedly bare compared to the streets, the shops and even David’s place of work.
“Not much point, seeing as it’s only going to be us and you’re a demon.”
“What’s that got to do with it?”
He gave me a slightly pitying look. I resisted the urge to fry him.
“I just thought,” he said, “that a religious festival wouldn’t interest you.”
“And why would that be?” I asked. “My kind feature in virtually all the religions mankind has ever invented.”
“Okay,” he said, “but they don’t give you a very good press do they?”
Boiled David was definitely getting closer.
“Only because we’re misunderstood and some religions don’t distinguish between us and the white winged wusses.”
“Christianity does.”
Smug little …….
“Yeah well they won the toss up for the proclamation bit.”
He looked puzzled.
“Announcing to the shepherds,” I said. “We tossed a coin to see who got the job. The angels won.”
“You mean it really happened?”
“Well not quite in the way it’s celebrated maybe – but something happened.”
“Exactly what?”
“I’m not allowed to say,” I said. “If you knew the literal truth behind religions they all would end.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“On the whole, yes. And that’s all I’m allowed to say.”
He looked at me for a while as if the fact that I’m bound by rules surprised him but he said nothing.
“So,” I said, “about the decorations.”
“We don’t have any.”
“We could get some.”
David sighed rather more heavily than was really necessary. “If you must,” he said.
 

He was such a grouch about it that I did the whole job while he was out at work. I was surprised to find that Christmas decorations hadn’t changed that much over the years. Details of course were different. I was used to everything being home grown and natural but glass and plastic are as colourful as nuts and berries and whole lot easier to manage. I did get a real tree. I hadn’t realised they’d made it out of northern Europe but then people have moved about a lot. I also got holly and mistletoe.
“How about a kiss under the mistletoe?” I offered as David came in.
“I wouldn’t kiss you under an anaesthetic.” He can be really hurtful at times.
“You know,” I said, “they used to do a whole lot more than kiss. Mistletoe is a fertility symbol.”
He gave me an odd look and surveyed the newly decorated room. “Not bad,” he said grudgingly. “Somehow I’d expected more tacky and less taste.”
I assumed that it was the perfectionist artist speaking and let it go.
“By the way,” he said, avoiding my eyes, “I’ve invited a few of the guys from work around for a few drinks on Sunday and I was wondering if…”
“I could arrange to be elsewhere?” I suggested, hurt.
“Erh – no. I rather thought you might like to meet them only I’d prefer it if you could  - sort of – erm – forego the make up?”
“I’ll try,” I said, coldly enough to add frosting to the tree.
 

I was still frosty with him when Sunday came around. As soon as the guests arrived I regretted it. The girl with the eyes showed up slightly late with a large, blond male in tow. He looked like he could pick her up with one hand. David looked like a stick figure next to him. The eyes gazed worshipfully up at the straw headed guy. “I hope you don’t mind my bringing Thom,” she said. He looked the sort who would keep the ‘h’ in the abbreviation. “You haven’t met Thom, have you? He’s my fiancé.”
If it hadn’t been so tragic, I’d have laughed. It was like one of those advertisements for body building courses; where the little guy loses the girl then goes to Charlie’s Gym and turns into Superman. I was almost tempted to do something demonic with the guy, but it’s not my job to protect David from every knock that Fate has in store for him. His new life has to be as realistic as possible. I contented myself with giving the pair of them the ‘flu for the rest of the holidays. I can be so spiteful sometimes.
Needless to say, David was rather out of it for the rest of the party. He put a brave face on it, I’ll give him that, but I knew he was getting feelings for the eyes and to have his hopes dashed so suddenly and so completely was not something I’d wish on an enemy, if I had such a thing.
I’d seen his workmates, of course. I’d been to his office most days, but I’d been invisible so I had to act as if we were meeting for the first time. I didn’t forego make up altogether. For one thing I’d got my nails varnished to perfection and I wasn’t about to clean it all off.  What I did wear was muted and discreet, so David had nothing to complain about.  Thom eyed me with something like suspicion and one of the girls asked me if I was gay. I chose to interpret the word according to it’s original meaning and replied that I was enjoying the party. She giggled good humouredly. Some mortals can take a joke, it seems.

 

To be continued

...... there's a relative, as someone once said.
I'd considered going to the funeral. It might have been fun being the only one who knew that all the ceremony and sympathy was being wasted on a few modified rat cells. But I wanted to stick to David. He was showing far too much interest in a certain pair of eyes. I'm not a jealous demon but there were thoughts in his head that I didn't care to see there. I haven't actually felt the need to intervene - yet.

However, David's lust-life not withstanding, I just had to be at the reading of the will.

It was a very traditional affair with the family gathered in the lawyer's office on the day after the funeral. They were a piece of work, David's relatives. He had no brothers or sisters but he had three formidable aunts - his late father's sisters - and numerous cousins. The aunts were as much like the Weird Sisters as any human I'd like to meet. They'd sponged off David's father for most of his life and they'd been furious when he let them down by not only dying but also leaving them not a penny piece.

I took a quick glance into the Eldest Aunt's mind - not a place I'd care to linger. She was sure that her feckless nephew had never thought of making a will and certain that his trust fund would now come to his three nearest relatives. She even had a plan for getting more than her share. She was in for a surprise.

The lawyer opened the proceedings and a large bundle of papers. I'd been through them pretty thoroughly so I knew what was there. Demons have an affinity for law - and lawyers. But after the comments on my explanation of the DNA manipulation, I won't burden my readers' intellect with the details.

I've already said that David's trust fund was his absolutely except that he couldn't touch the capital until he reached twenty five. His father also stipulated that the allowance he got from the income was small enough to ensure that he got a job - and hopefully the habit of working. David's father disliked lazy people. He was also mortally afraid of insanity. Not that he had any reason for thinking that his only son was nuts. But he put a clause in the trust so that the relatives got the cash if David were officially declared loopy. With the result that the three witches made regular and increasingly bizarre attempts to get poor David into the padded cell and straitjacket.

But back to the lawyer.
"We now come to the last will and testament of David Latimer," he said.

That sent a shock wave around the room - nearly knocked me off the bookcase.

"What!" squeaked the Eldest Aunt. "David would never have made a will. He's too stupid."
Poor David, even dead they insulted him. Dork he may be but he ain't stupid.
"It's perfectly valid," said the lawyer, "it was drawn up by our senior partner. It's also very simple. After making provision for taxes, debts and expenses, the whole of David's estate passes to one Michael Kramer."
"We'll contest it," said the Eldest Aunt. "This Michael Kramer, whoever he is, must have exerted - what's the phrase."
"Undue influence?"
"That's it - undue influence. This Kramer must have got his claws into poor David somehow and manipulated him into making that will."

Poor David? - Bloody cheek - you lot drove him to jump off a building.

"I think you'd be wasting your time - and your money." said the lawyer. That kind of honesty is rare in my experience of the breed. "David has left a good deal of documentary evidence. It charts a relationship going back several years."

See? It pays to be thorough. As far as the file goes, David's known me since he was fifteen. I'm also rather better off financially than he is - or so it appears.

There was a good deal of arguing and even hysterics. They tried to invoke the insanity clause on account of David's suicide but the wording of his father's will was clear and wouldn't allow it.
The Eldest Aunt did manage to coerce the lawyers into promising to try and set up a meeting with the mysterious Mr Kramer.

I'm looking forward to it.

I won't bore you (if any one's still reading this) with a description of David's working day.
No - that's not quite honest.
I won't bore ME with writing a description of David's working day. Suffice it to say that I did call in on him from time to time and I was pleasantly surprised. Artist David and dorky David are two different people. And he's good. I never thought to look at any of his work before taking the assignment, but he's wasted on book covers. Deep inside him is a talented artist. He lacks only the confidence to come out.
I know it's unlike me to care, but I'll have to do something about releasing that talent into the world. I'm not sure how. I'll think of something.
I'll also have to think of a way to keep it from the other demons in this world.
I have a reputation to think about.

The day wasn't wasted however. The shopping for dinner took only a short time and I hadn't intended to make too many trips to see David. For one thing the girl with the eyes was somewhat unsettling.
I was drifting through dimensionless space when I bumped into a colleague who's based in David's old home town and learned that the post mortem on "David" was being carried out.
Now the cell donor - okay! the rat - was very, very dead when I took the skin cells. I ought to have used cells from David but he seemed to be having a hard time adjusting so I'd decided to use a convenient donor.
Transforming non human DNA into the basis for a human copy is not usually recommended. There's always a danger that the result will be unstable, especially if the base cells aren't fresh.
Now, I'm not a slip shod worker. Unlike some I could mention I would never use non-human DNA to replicate a living body. I only did it in David's case because I knew the corpse would not be around for long. I'd put instructions in the will for a cremation. There was no reason why they should but it could have caused problems if the authorities had ever dug up a coffin and found a rat skeleton inside instead of David.
Any way this is a roundabout way of saying that I sat in , invisibly, on the autopsy.
"David" was certainly a mess. Don't be taken by those films where the villain falls off a skyscraper and the hero looks sadly down on a perfectly intact body lying peacefully on the tarmac. That kind of a fall scatters body parts over a substantial area - and you'd scarcely believe how far blood spatters.
They identified him by his fingerprints, taken from personal items in his flat, and his dental records - though they never found all of his teeth.
They were thorough - very thorough. I'd have thought the note was conclusive, but they checked everything. Chemical analysis of blood and tissue showed no sign of alcohol, drugs or toxic substances. What was left of the body had no evidence of wounds inflicted before falling. In the end they concluded that death was due to massive trauma from multiple injuries consistent with a fall from a great height.
The body was released and a certificate issued for cremation.
So far so good.
All that was left was the coroner's inquest.
Oh - and the reading of the will. I just have to be there to see the faces of all those relatives when they get nothing and the mysterious Michael Kramer cops the lot (if you'll pardon the vulgarity).

Current Location: Somewhere in dimensionless space
Current Mood: mischievous
Current Music: Only the heartbeat of the universe itself

I left David at the entrance to the building that housed his new place of work.
"Wish me luck?" he said as I turned to go.
"Good luck," I replied, "not that you'll need it."
He waved nervously and trotted up the steps into the building.
I walked a few paces around the corner, just in case he decided to look back and then made myself invisible. It never ceases to amaze me how unobservant humans are when in commuter mode. I literally vanished from under their noses and no one paid any attention. It's no wonder they get mugged and their pockets get picked.
Anyway, I quickly retraced my steps and caught up with David. He was showing his letter of appointment to the building receptionist so I went ahead of him by transporting myself up to his office.
I ought to say a word about how I 'd arranged for David's new job without David having applied or been interviewed or any of the normal stuff.
The design company I'd placed him with had several branch offices. The one where David now works specializes in covers for  novels and a few weeks ago they'd landed a contract for a series of books by a well-known author. The publishers were reissuing them in a uniform cover design. There was a tight deadline and their fantasy artist was due to start immediately on return from her holiday.
Except she married a rancher she met in Portugal and went to live in Argentina. With a bit of time manipulation I got David hired by a distant branch office which meant that no one in David's office knew anything about him.
David duly arrived having successfully overcome the challenge of the receptionist. He came out of the lift and stood for a while, looking vacant. I made a mental note to do something about his tendency , when baffled, to let his mouth hang open. It makes him look like something in a fish market.
He remained in piscine mode for some moments until he was rescued by a young lady with red hair and the sort of eyes that mortals ought not to be allowed to have.
"Can I help you?" she asked David.
His lower jaw recovered its suspension and slid back into place.
"I'm new here," he said, unhelpfully.
The young woman looked a trifle puzzled. David stared at her for a moment before catching on that she hadn't understood.
"I'm - erh - David Latimer," he explained. "I start work here today."
Immediately, realization dawned in those not-for-mortals eyes.
"Ah yes! You really are the seventh cavalry, you know. Your predecessor left without notice just when she was due to start a big account. None of the rest of us is good at fantasy. You're a lifesaver."
David blushed. I didn't check his thoughts so I wasn't sure if it was the compliment or those eyes. Either way, he turned an annoying shade of red and started stammering something about hoping he could deliver and all that modesty stuff. I've no time for it myself. Do the damn job or not. If you're good let them say so - if you're not, don't do the job at all.
"Come and meet the gang," said the one with the eyes. "I'm Mandy, Mandy Eastman. I do typography."
She wandered off down the hall with David in tow. I'd seen enough for the time being and I really did have shopping to do, so I reappeared in the street outside the market.
Again, no one noticed - amazing.

It would be wrong to say I awoke early because I don't actually sleep. I'd gone off for the night and abandoned my human disguise, checking in with my colleagues and doing stuff only demons are allowed to know about.
So I sort of woke early and got breakfast ready before waking the dorky David. I know I said I wasn't going to keep pampering him like this but it is his first day in a new job and I thought he could do with a little attention.
"New day, new job," I said brightly as I threw open the curtains.
He muttered something I didn't quite catch but which, from the thought I detected behind it, was not complementary.
"Now, now," I can be really patronising when I want to, "Now, now. Be nice. I made you breakfast. So you'll be all fit and ready for your nice new job."
He groaned and sat up, pushing back the bed clothes. He hovered for a while in a semi sitting position than collapsed back onto the pillow. Clearly this one is not a morning person. I poured his coffee and waved it under his nose. He struggled back up and I handed him the mug, putting the pillows behind him so that he wouldn't fall over again. It took a little while for the recognition circuits in his brain to comprehend the hot cylindrical object in his hands, but eventually he began to sip the coffee. The caffeine began to work almost immediately. David's eyes finally opened - half opened anyway and his speech became moderately coherent.
"Time s'it?"
"Almost seven," I told him, "time you were up, considering how long it takes you to regain consciousness."
He finished the coffee and I risked putting the breakfast tray on his lap.
"Wa' s'is?"
Gods this was going to be a difficult assignment.
"Scrambled eggs, ham and toast," I said, managing not to grit my teeth. "There's marmalade and orange juice as well. Now eat up, you need a good start to the day."
Protein, sugar and caffeine had the desired effect and David became, by degrees, more  human.  He dragged himself out of bed and into the shower. He even managed an attempt at singing. He's not an 'ages in the shower' person so he was soon back in the room, drying his hair.
"You should let me do that," I offered. He just gave me a funny look continuing to point the hairdryer everywhere but at his hair.
I'd restocked his wardrobe when I set up the flat. I had tried to keep in with his tastes but he definitely needed help in the fashion department. For this morning I'd got out a dark suit with a white shirt but no tie. Just formal enough for a first day impression but not so formal as to look odd in a creative office.
"You're my valet now?" said David, eyeing the garments somewhat suspiciously.
"Just helping," I said. He put the suit on. The effect was just right, just what I'd intended. David looked well in a suit. He looked at himself in the mirror.
"It does suit me," he said, rather grudgingly. He hesitated as if he had more to say. I peeked at his thoughts, something he'd forgotten I can do. He was concerned that I'd be coming to work with him.
"I have some things to do," I said by way of reassurance. "If you like I'll walk as far your building with you and then get on with my shopping."
"Shopping?"
"Unless you want to go out for dinner tonight?"
"I shall start calling you 'Jeeves' at this rate." It was an attempt at a joke.
"I can manipulate time, you know," I said. He seemed puzzled. "We can go back to the default option."
"So why are you doing all the domestic stuff?"
"Just being a good flat mate," I said. "I know you can't cook."
"You don't eat," he reminded me, quite unnecessarily.
"No but you do and I like to be helpful."
We settled on dining in and set off toward David's new job. What I hadn't told him was that I planned on dropping by, invisibly, from time to time. Just to keep an eye on him.

Current Mood: awake