#is that cheating

Besides, weak demons had to be wary. Those reflective surfaces could keep you there, a curiosity that might be caught in bad lighting. A half recalled memory that a human might spy. He didn’t know exactly what humans did with such things. His humans probably knew. To see the future? To scare one another? All he knew was the demon bound to it was hardly a thinking being anymore. Just the confused remains of one. Just keep moving, you’ll wake up soon. He knew humans used the word ‘phantoms’ for such beings, that Jazz always insisted to stay clear because of it. A caring way to say ‘that might be you, weakling.’ He was already halfway there.

This hall should not have a mirror in it. It should not face in his direction. He tried to cover his face, to not see his own blank eyes looking back at him. It was only a glimpse, fanged mouth dripping, his posture more like a feral animal. Ignore it. It’s just a stupid dream, with a stupider mirror.

The warm hand that clamped on his shoulder made him yelp, instinctively trying to pull away. He was too solid to do so, unable to slip back into shadows, the grip only tightening as he squirmed. A blind struggle, since he didn’t want to open his eyes. Nor could get his legs back, stuck with his tail that could do little to give him leverage.

He pretty much expected the stabbing, forcing his eyes to open, to see again. To see the trapped pathetic creature and attacker. A shadow too solid to fly, but too weak to fight. His rune adorned attacker had no face, and he could only manage a pitiful whine. Wake up, wake up, wake up. Before they carve your eyes out, like they got your tongue.

His claws break flesh, but he doesn’t wake up. The mirror just lets him watch the pain longer than he needs to. Wake up...he can wake up...right? He’s pathetic, hoping humans might save him from a nightmare, using his only free hand to clutch at his chest and cry out that there’s danger.

They wouldn’t care even if it was real. He does it anyway.

“Hey, it’s just me. What’s wrong?” Tucker’s voice makes him tremble, unsure if the dream is just finding a new way to upset him or not.

He’s got a body again. His eyes aren’t missing. It is Sam’s house. Too soon to tell. Tucker reaches out as if to touch him, but stops when he growls.

“You sounded really upset and fell out of the wall. You’re okay?” Tucker kept back, just talking instead.

It sounded like Tucker. Yet something was wrong. A stench that was hanging around. Familiar in a way that made every fibre of his being tremble.

“Did something happen to him on the way back?” Sam’s question didn’t sound as sharp as usual. Almost concerned. Odd.

Worse on her. He backed away, tucking himself under the bed so it would be harder for the humans to follow.

“Can you uh. Say something buddy? You wanted to run, right?”

Yes, he did. So...they’d heard him? He wasn’t coming out from the darkness below the bed, his own eyes more than enough light.

“Phantom, Tucker’s trying to help. It’s hard if you pretend to be a dust bunny.”

Was that a joke? Maybe. He was slightly less tense, enough to open his mouth. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound super fine. Seriously, did something happen?”

“No.” As nothing had. It was all in his stupid head.

A small stuffed creature slid under the bed, round and winged. It looked soft. He didn’t touch it. It could be a trap.

“Well uh, if you want company down there...Sam doesn’t mind.”

“I mind a little.” She corrected him. “Not anyone gets to borrow my bats, but you sounded pretty shaken.”

He wasn’t going to cry around humans. The bat was softer than it looked, and fit comfortably when he held it close for a moment. It didn’t get rid of the unease, not completely. “I’ll be careful.”