Page 28 of My Demon Neighbor
Codie nodded, and I stood up, walking into the space we'd cleared for our 'class.'
"It's okay," he assured me, and it almost made me laugh. It wasn't me I was worried about.
Hella seemed to sense the tension in the room, because she shifted back to her normal form and climbed onto the couch to cuddle up at Codie's side.
Hopefully, she'd be able to comfort him if I scared him.
Codie
Pythor was clearly nervous about showing me his true form. When I saw how hesitant he was, I almost told him to forget about it.
But then he took a deep breath, and his whole body flickered like the air around him was heating up and causing his image to distort.
It only took a few seconds, but he grew almost two feet taller, large folded wings appearing behind his back as his skin took on an almost-black shade with a reddish sheen to it. His wings were red and leathery, the edges lined in black. His dark eyeswere still the same, though they now had a ring of red around them.
Small horns peeked out of his wiry hair, and as my gaze slid down his well-defined body—in this form, he only wore some very clingy black leather pants—my eyes lingered on the sharp black nails at the ends of his human-like fingers.
His feet seemed to have cat-like claws, which would probably help him hold on if he ever flew to a tree or something.
"Codie?" Pythor asked, his voice still the same warm tenor, and I broke out of my mesmerized stupor to meet his eyes.
"Can I paint you?" I blurted, and his eyes widened before he grinned widely, showing off rows of super-sharp teeth.
"You can do whatever you want."
Rolling my eyes, I slowly got to my feet and approached him. Hella seemed to share none of my hesitation—she was clearly familiar with his true form—as she raced up to him and started dancing at his feet, standing up on her hind legs to reach him better as she tried to lick him.
Pythor laughed as he gave her a few pets, and I realized I had absolutely no reason to fear him in this form either. Pythor was just... Pythor. My friend, my neighbor, and the one man I felt completely at ease around.
His glance turned to me as I reached him, his eyes cautious but hopeful as he waited to see what I would do. He was still, as if he didn't want to startle me, and it just made me like him more.
While he never treated me like I was glass, he was also so very thoughtful toward me, and I couldn't help liking him for it. He made me feel cared for without making me feel like I couldn't function on my own.
"Can I touch you?" I asked, curious what his skin, and especially his wings, felt like. I knew we probably weren't closeenough for me to ask this of him, but I couldn't help myself. He was just so strange and... beautiful in a very unconventional way. It was like seeing a masterpiece in a museum, except here I only needed his permission to touch it.
Pythor nodded, and I reached forward, placing my palm in the center of his chest. His skin was warm under my palm, and smooth, but my brows furrowed when I realized...
"You don't have a heartbeat."
Pythor gave me a sheepish look, and then I felt the familiar thud-thud under my palm, as if it was some switch he'd forgotten to flick.
"Technically, I'm dead. I don't have a heartbeat, but it's a part of my human form illusion," Pythor explained, which took me a moment to absorb. He was... dead? I was talking to a dead man?
"I feel like I need more information," I said as I reached up to brush my fingers against the edge of his folded wings, which made them jerk open in a rush. It startled me enough that I stumbled back, and Pythor quickly folded them back, shooting me an apologetic look.
"Sorry, they're a touch... sensitive."
I blinked, and my cheeks went pink as it sank in. "Oh! Uh, I'm sorry."
He waved me off, then started speaking, and it took me a second to realize he was explaining the whole 'I'm dead' thing. "A long time ago, when someone died in this realm, they got three options: move on to Afterworld and live a life of peace until you're ready for rebirth, become a soul collector and help other souls make that decision, or become a demon and punish the dark souls who lived in Underworld."
"And you chose to be a demon," I concluded, and he nodded.
"Me and the others, we were the last ones to be turned into demons. A while after that, the magic of the realms decided Underworld wasn't really helping the dark souls trapped there, and things were changed. Underworld was destroyed, the demons were retired, and all the dark souls were moved to the Burning Chasm where they would burn eternally."
I blinked as I processed that, then tilted my head. This was all so fascinating, and I could almost forget the shit in my life if I focused on it hard enough. "So... instead of being punished forever by demons, the souls are now burning forever?"
Pythor hummed, making a so-so gesture with his hand. "They were, until recently. But the fire in the Chasm was replaced with one that purifies the darkness from a soul, so now they'll only burn until they've been rid of the darkness, after which they would move to the Redemption Center, which is kind of like a long-term therapy center, where they'll try to make amends with themselves until they're ready to move on to Afterworld."
To go from not knowing what happened after you died to finding out the exact details within the span of a few minutes was strange. If I had known this before, would I have been less terrified of dying that night? Would I have given up instead of trying as hard as I did to stay alive?
"That's... that is fascinating," I murmured, unsure what else I could say. Our conversation looped through my mind as more and more questions filled it, but a comment he'd made before got stuck in my head. I'd been too caught up by everything else to focus on it earlier, but now I wondered what he'd meant.
"I have a question."
"You can ask me anything," Pythor assured me, his expression open as he gazed at me with those strangely beautiful eyes.
"What did you mean when you said I'm the only human you could tell all of this to?"
