☆ on the highwire ☆

     “We’ve only just met, and you’re already using pet names? At least take me on a date first.” Solomon clicked his tongue, as if scolding a child. “Hmm, nonetheless, I do believe that you are mistaken. That bastard wizard Howell may think he owns this place, but he’s the one who has to hide from me all the time. Not to mention that he has to get himself so many guard dogs.” He smirked pointedly at Rune for a moment, before craning his neck to get a good look at the work of the Evil.

     Although he was not a good person, in any way at all, Solomon did not like Evils hanging around on his turf. He was a territorial creature, Solomon was, and having other dark creatures meandering about his land was not something he took very kindly to. 

     Looking down at Rune, Solomon grinned, pulse quickening with the excitement of a fight. The demon eater’s claws digging into his shoulders seemed not to bother him. Something dark flitted behind his eyes. 

     “Shut up,” Rune hissed. “This isn’t a game, блядь.” The demon eater’s lip curled back, revealing their wicked fangs. And then, after leaning forward, they nicked Solomon’s ear with one of them. “If you’re going to treat it like a game,” they whispered, their voice a low rumble, “I won’t hesitate to kill you and eat you raw.” Rune licked the blood off Solomon’s ear, which then sizzled when it came in contact with the demon eater’s spit. With a sharp glint in their eye, Rune leaned back, locked eyes with the demon and said, “Got it, rat?”

     The clouds above drifted in front of the sun, and the whole street was bathed in darkness. Solomon’s words echoed through the blackness like a verdict: Slave, slave. Then, they reached Rune’s ears, and pushed a button inside their brain. In the next second, Rune’s hand was wrapped around Solomon’s throat, and the demon was slammed into the ground. “Shut the fuck up,” snarled the demon eater. “Vermin. Don’t. Talk.”

     Rune’s hand, which was now stained an inky black, gave the worm’s throat one last squeeze before retracting. Both of their hands were black now. Their fingers seemed to have turned to knives, while the hands themselves had grown larger. They brushed the ground while the demon eater stood. “Get out of my face,” Rune said to Solomon. “I don’t need your help anymore. I didn’t ever need your help. I can do this on my own.”

     Staring straight ahead, high heels clicking against the sidewalk, Solomon moved himself closer and closer to Rune. There was no point in pretending he hadn’t noticed them; his least favorite part was always the chase. So, he walked straight up to Rune, one side of his mouth quirking to fully display a fang.

     A strange chill wafted through the air. It brought with it a sense of uncertainty, and filled the street with violence. The first person to throw a punch was a woman in her forties; the chilly spell had drove its teeth into her will and tore it apart, making her nothing more than a puppet to the nameless magic user. However, he did not remain nameless for long, because he soon stepped under the light of a street lamp and said boisterously, “What a lovely night for war!”

     Rune’s pulse spiked and they shivered. Then, they turned to Solomon with a carefully encrypted look in their eye. “The turf war can wait. That’s an Evil, in case you didn’t know, and he’ll do a lot worse to us than he will the fleshlings.” Rune stepped forward and grabbed the demon by the shoulders. “Help me,” they whispered, “and I won’t kill you.” Their claws sharpened, pierced Solomon’s skin, and drew blood. “Deal?”