#dameria

Poor Heria tries to calm her nerves.

The tea cup clattered as it was lifted from the small saucer up to Heria’s lips—she hated how badly her hands were shaking. It was a surprise that she had not spilled it all over herself and ruined her new silk pajamas that her father had gone through such lengths to buy for her. She took a breath and tried to ease the cup back down and set it onto the nightstand beside her. She took a deep breath and looked at the napkin that was half crumped on one knee, then to her phone that rest on the other.

                “Jasmine tea is supposed to calm you down,” she muttered to herself, maybe for the fifth time. She had even sweetened it with honey to mask the floral taste to it. But her heart was still pounding around her chest like a frantically trapped hummingbird. She scrubbed her fingers through her hair, found a little knot in the mess of chestnut brown and nearly shrieked as she worked it free.

                Maybe she shouldn’t do this tonight. But it had already been three days since Julian had gotten that boy’s number. Granted, it had been Friday when he happened to drop by the café, and she had discovered she magically obtained some skills for espionage as she had successfully been able to dodge him all throughout school. But guilt had begun to worm its way into her heart. What if he was waiting on her to call him, and now thinking that she hated him?

                But why would he want to talk to her? She found herself to be incredibly plain and boring. She had a part-time job as a barista to pay her way to the college of her dreams. She danced ballet but, didn’t everyone?  She had too much brown hair, enormous brown eyes, hips that were entirely too wide and tiny hands, tiny feet, and a tiny nose that people liked to poke their fingertips to.

                She didn’t notice the tear slipping along her cheek until she wiped it away. She had not realized that she was so self-conscious. And why was she doubting herself so harshly? Over a boy she hardly knew, no less! She snatched up her phone, furiously tapped the numbers in and hit ‘Send’ with a force so strong that she felt temporarily empowered. It felt amazing. She was brave, fearless—why wouldn’t he want to talk to her?

                And then she heard the heavily accented “Hello?” and realized what she had done.

                It had all been a front. She wasn’t ready for this level of confidence. She squeaked as she closed her phone and tossed it across her bed and covered her face. God, she was pathetic.

                She went back to sipping at her tea to hide the hiccups that accompanied the oncoming tears. At least the tea tasted fine. It could use a little more honey, though. She was beginning to climb out of bed when the phone she had so readily pitched began to vibrate. She nearly dropped her cup and stared at it in horror before she reached for it.

                God. Oh God. He was calling back.

                She was terrified. She couldn’t breathe. What would she say? What would he say? She was run out of rings.

                “H-hello?” She finally remembered how to accept calls. Was she breathing too hard? Christ.

                “Hello?” Damon’s voice came through the other line. “Is this Heria?”

                “U-uh… Uh…” She swallowed and sank back onto her bed. “Yes…”

                “Oh!” The laugh she heard was so easygoing that she wanted to try to relax. “Good, yes! Hello! It is Damon. You called?”

                “I um… yes, I… dropped my phone when I called, I’m sorry…” It was a little white lie, but she was whispering so he probably didn’t notice.

                “It is okay. I am happy you call me. How are you?”

                Happy? Her eyes fluttered a little and she rubbed her neck. “I’m… okay.”

                “You are better, yes? The ah… one with yellow hair, he says you were nose-bleeding.” Damon’s voice dropped a bit with something unusual—concern, maybe? “But now you are okay?”

                “O-oh. Yeah, I um… I get those a lot, I’m better now.” She cleared her throat and brushed some hair behind her ear. “Thanks. How are you?”

                “I am very good. Well, Miss Aria works late tonight and I am not very happy. I had to cook for myself.” He laughed again, and she heard him shuffling. Was he calling from his bed too?

                “You cook?” Heria was smiling a little, biting her lip. “What did you make?”

                “Macaroni and cheese.” She could hear the grin in his voice. “It is my favorite.”

                “Mine too,” she half blurted, then slapped her hand over her mouth, her face heating in embarrassment.

                “Oh! I made too much. Maybe you can come and help!”

                “No, no, no…” She giggled and covered her entire face. “My dad and I ordered pizza tonight.”                 “I see. Next time, then?”

                “Um… s-sure. Maybe.”

                “Ypéroches! Wonderful.”

                The expression caught her by surprise and she sat up a little more. “You speak Greek?”

                “Yes. It is where I’m from,” Damon answered, an undeniable affection in his voice.

                Heria hesitated, chose her words very carefully, then replied: “Étsi eínai i̱ oikogéneiá mou.” So is my family.

                The next twenty minutes were an excitable blur—Damon sounded so relieved to be speaking his mother tongue, and though Heria had to ask him to repeat things occasionally, she understood him for the most part. They talked about their classes, about homework that they had that day, and about Heria’s job, which was something he was oddly fascinated in. They were discussing the different drinks they had (thankfully in English) when, by the time she reached over for her tea again, it was ice cold.

                “Oh, darn. I have to reheat my tea…” She set the cup down. “I hadn’t realized we had been talking so long.”

                “That is all right. I have to go anyhow. I hear Miss Aria is coming back and I have to say hello. Will I see you at school tomorrow?” She heard Damon getting up and she imagined him stretching. Her faced warmed.

                “Yeah. We can… maybe eat lunch together?” She curled a finger through her hair, wriggling with anticipation.

                “Oh yes, as long as you promise not to run from me again,” Damon teased with a snort.

                “Wh-what?”

                “I said hello to you in the hall today. You ran away.” He chuckled. “Don’t do that anymore and we can spend very much time together, yes?”

                Stunned, mollified, and feeling a little nauseous, Heria gave a numb nod then realized that he wasn’t sitting in front of her and wouldn’t see, then she managed to squeak out. “O-okay…”                 “Bye!” He hung up as she tried to echo him, but stumbled over her words.

Heria spots a classmate. Things do not go remarkably well.

Julian smiled as he reached over the counter, handing the cappuccino on the saucer to the gentleman across from him. “Here you go, sir.”

                “Thank you,” the man replied, then turned to the young girl that was also behind the counter. “And thank you, for making it.”

                Heria looked up from her work, a bit of whipped cream dabbed on her cheek, and offered a bright smile that was as signature to the Angel Café as their caffeinated creations. “Of course, sir! I hope you enjoy it.”

                The man nodded and walked off to his table, and Julian reached over to nudge his co-worker with a laugh. “You’re such a sweetie. And that little flower design in the froth? That was so adorable!”

                “O-oh, it was nothing, really. I was just practicing what I learned online. I really wanted to try it,” she replied, brushing a loose strand of brown hair from in front of her face, her expression much more bashful. “Did you really think it was good?”

                “Oh, for sure! If you learn how to do angel wings, we’ll make it a thing and I’ll get you a raise.” Julian lightly teased as he patted her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay while I’m gone? It is only your third week here. I don’t know why Jonathan is running late but I can’t be late for dance practice.”

                “Yes, I promise. It’s not even that busy.” Heria cleaned out the tin cup used for heating milk, then turned to Julian. “Everything will be fine.”

                “Well… Okay. I’ll finish up a couple things in the back for you so you won’t have so much to worry about.” The blonde smiled, so glad to have hired someone so responsible, and turned to disappear into the kitchen.                 Heria glanced after him before diligently returning to her work. There were a couple more orders to finish, and while the customers were waiting so patiently, she still didn’t want to take up too much of their time. As she heated more milk for a caramel latte, she heard the bell ring, indicating someone had come in.

                “Welcome to Angel’s Café!” she called without looking up right away. She had to milk and froth ratio just right, then crisscrossed caramel at the top. “Ms. Solon, your order is ready!”

                “Oh, could you bring it here? I’m right in the middle of an important e-mail,” came the answer.

                Heria was more than happy to, already knowing that the silver-haired woman was a loyal customer, and she always tipped very well. She came from behind the corner and scurried over to the customer’s table. “Here you go. If you need anything else, let me know.”

                “You’re fine, you’re fine. Thanks.” She waved at her. “I’ll bring the cup back.”

                Heria nodded and turned to go back to her counter but once she saw who was standing on the other side, she froze in her tracks. She wasn’t sure who it was, but she swore he looked familiar. He had long dark hair, reaching down to his lower back and when he turned his head to look at her, he had the most curious gray eyes beneath his wild bangs. He was dressed simply, in jeans and a red t-shirt, but the garments hugged every athletic muscle of his body that she could see roll and shift as he tilted his head.

                She knew she was staring. But she couldn’t help it, especially since she knew that he was staring back.

                After a minute, he finally spoke. He lifted a hand and waved. “Chaírete!” The word was indefinitely foreign, but rolled off his tongue with such ease, she felt her face flush. “Ah, hello? I know you, yes?”

                “Y-you… you do?” she stammered out.

                “We are in same school. I see you in math and English.” He took a few steps towards her, offering his hand out. “I am Damon. I am foreign exchange student from Athens.”

                Heria stared at his hand, then peered back up at him, then back down at his hand. Her limbs felt as if lead had been tied to them, so instead of struggling, she just didn’t move.

                Damon’s smile faded and he tilted his head a little. “You are… okay, yes?”

                Oh, no. He thought something was wrong with her. She had gone too still, been silent for too long. He thought she was some kind of idiot. The squeak that left her was involuntary as she suddenly turned tail and dashed for the kitchen, covering her face as she disappeared behind the swinging door. She nearly ran into Julian in her haste to hide, who caught her before they could both go crashing to the ground.

                “Whoa, whoa! What’s wrong?” Julian held her by her arms, tilting his head to try and see past her hands.

                “I n-need to stay back here!” Heria knew she sounded too loud and just hid her face again, trying to turn away.

                “Why? What happened?”

                “Nothing!” She managed to break away from him and hid in the pantry. She would then proceed to bang her head against a big bag of espresso beans.

                Julian stared after her for a moment before turning to look out the little window on the door. It only took a few seconds of peering around before he spotted the tall, confused looking young man at the front desk, and at once, Julian began to laugh.

                “Don’t tell me you got spooked by a cute boy!” he teased as he turned to look back at her. After he got no response, he rolled his eyes. “Oh, you’re so young. Here, let me help you.”

                “No!” Heria scrambled to get back to him, but it was too late. The blonde barista had already bounced back out to the front.

                  “Hi!” Julian waved a little as he approached the young man. “Sorry about Heria. She came rushing back with a nosebleed.”

                “Oh…” His dark brows knitted together with concern. “She is not okay?”

                Julian’s brows raised at his accent, but he grinned. Now he understood perfectly. “Oh, she’ll be fine. She gets the all the time; poor thing. She just didn’t want to bleed all over your shoes.” Julian gave him a bright smile. “Tell you what, what’s your name?”

                “Damon.”

                “Damon—why don’t you leave your number, and I’ll have her call you when she’s feeling better? Do you guys go to school together?” Julian leaned against the counter. “Don’t worry, it’ll definitely just go to her.” He plucked a pen out of his apron pocket and slid a napkin to him.

                “Number? …Ah, yes. For phone. Yes, sas ef̱charistó̱! Thank you.” Damon leaned down and scribbled his number down then handed it back along with the pen. “Give her my best, yes?”

                “Of course, of course. I’ll take your order in just a second, okay?”

                “No, no. I came only to see her. I see her when walking home from sport. Ah, running?” Damon scratched his head a little, a bit embarrassed about his lack of translation.

                “Track?”

                “Naí, track!” Damon gave him a smile, and tucked his hands into his pockets, but not before waving as he turned to go. “Thank you. Bye!”

                “Bye-bye!” Julian waved a little as he swiped the napkin and dashed back into the kitchen. Heria had been watching anxiously in the window, and he couldn’t have been happier to hand her the phone number. “Here you go, sweetie. One hot date with the foreign kid!”

                “What?!” Heria snatched the napkin and looked it over, trying to see if it was just Julian’s handwriting, then looked up at him with wide, horrified eyes. “What did you say?”

                “I said you had a nosebleed but you’d be feeling better and you’d call him and he could take you out on a date. He seemed pretty jazzed about it, but I’m not sure he knows what ‘date’ is in English in that sense.” Julian smiled and patted her arm. “Happy?”

                “No! No! Why would you tell him that? Why would you say that? We go to the same school, now he’ll really expect me to call him!” she almost screamed.

                “Then you’d better call him, huh?” Julian winked. “I really do have to go now. Make sure to speak up, but don’t yell at him. You’ll thank me later, love.”

                Heria couldn’t make a sound as Julian nearly skipped past her. She looked down at the number in her hand, completely in shock, then looked over her shoulder after her meddlesome manger.

Damon was in trouble.

           Heria was unsure what exactly it was that she had sensed, but it had driven her from her sleep and out of bed in a matter of seconds, stumbling out of her tent across the way to where Damon’s stood meters away only to find he was not in it. But she could have sworn she heard him cry out, as if caught by some nightmare. And so she had set out to search for him. She checked every place she knew he would frequent between both bases as quickly as she could manage, but found no trace of the Vampire King.

             With every failed sighting, her heart sank more and more until she could feel it as a tight quivering bundle of nerves in her stomach. Perhaps he had slipped off again to the place he refused to reveal to her and she had only been dreaming. But a sound had erupted somewhere off base, not unlike a distant roll of thunder, but it had lasted far too long to be anything of the sort. Terror drove her to continue her search, taking the slightly beaten path between the two bases out towards the lake.

              The forest always felt denser at night; what spaces that had not been occupied between the trees during the day were filled past capacity with shadows. Heria felt as if they were clamoring closer to her, threatening to closer her in, but still she walked, though a bit quicker than she had been at the start of her journey. With her chin tucked against her chest and her fists balled solidly at her sides, she had to coach herself to take one step at a time; one after another, faster and faster. Though terror was beginning to seep through every corner of her mind, she knew in her heart that she could not waste time.

                An unusual light suddenly began to cut through the darkness. She squinted against it, bringing a hand to shield her eyes, but her steps only quickened. She had seen that eerie glow before, just outside her window her final night in Greece only a few weeks before.

                “Kurios?” She tried calling out to him as she stepped into the clearing, but her words bled at once into a scream, her fingers curling near her mouth as she failed to smother it.

                For at least a mile around, the trees had been cleared and from the ruins, jagged crystalline spires broke through and climbed for several stories. Each bluish structure crackled with a black energy that snapped like wild beasts at the empty air. They were still clawing their way through the Earth, blossoming from a concentrated cluster in the center.

                 At once, Heria ran towards it, blue sparks leaping from her fingertips and with as much power as she could muster, she began to destroy them, fighting her way through. Every time she would slam her hands against one of the crystals, the dark energy would bite into her palms but she shoved it back tenfold until the entire structure would splinter and disappeared. One by one, the crystals fell away until she was able to squeeze through a gap that was just barely big enough.

                 For several tense minutes, she struggled to pull herself through the minimal space. A wall seemed to rise in front of her and she allowed herself a moment of panic before she slammed her hands against it and caused it to shatter. She could see flecks of her own blood on the shards, but she could not fret about something so trivial.

                 “Damon?!”

                  Slowly, Damon’s head rose and his eyes met hers, but they were not the same. They were set like glass, glowing silver with rivulets of blue and black striking through his irises, and they were ringed by gouge marks that tore down to his cheeks. The crystal behind his head were stained red and the colour could be seen streaking through his hair.

                  Heria’s felt her lungs seize as she froze in place, a hand rising to cover her gaping mouth. “K-Kurios…?”

                  As he spoke, there were other voices that seemed to whisper through his own. “Heria?” Very slowly a smile stretched across his expression, seeming almost too wide for his face, with every tooth showing and sharpened to lethal points. The harsh sound the emitted from him should have been a laugh, but it only chilled Heria to her very bones.