She gracefully plopped in front of the mirror. For a moment, her reflection looked back. Long brown hair pulled into a sloppy ponytail, brown or hazel eyes, depended on the clothing, scattered freckles, high cheek bones, full lips; feminine features encased in loose shirts and faded jeans. She called for her companion, “Mateal, get off your ass and come talk.” From anyone else, a one-finger salute would be offered, and he’d go back to whatever it was he was doing. For her, however, he was willing to be more flexible, and removing himself from chair and book, he took up his station in the mirror.

Even for a demon he had unusual features. He was shorter than most of his kind, and he had brown eyes, that could be as warm as a summer’s day, or frostier than the coldest winter. Most thought it was hard to make brown eyes cold, but after living a few million years, or was it longer…no matter, he was able to make them as cold as he pleased. His demon wings were large and leathery. She had been hit by one once in her memory, and did not find the experience fun enough to try again when the wing wasn’t injured.

They frequently talked through this mirror. She liked it for a couple reasons. First, there was no physical touching. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her guardian, she did, on the important stuff, but he seemed to have picked up on an obnoxious habit of being more touchy feely than she remembered. Second, she was able to talk and see his body language, rather than just hear him.

Quite unexpectedly, the glass of the mirror shimmered, creating a portal of sorts. Not wasting any time, he stepped through the glass, into the barren room. There were no pictures or posters on the walls, no real furniture to speak of. Just four walls and a ceiling, covered in gently pulsating seals of shimmering green, deep red, pale blue, working together to keep the room secret, the mirror of course, a carpeted floor, and a door that had a handy locking ability. Finding a nice spot of carpet next to her, he eased to the floor, settling in for what would undoubtedly be a rather lengthy conversation. Of course, the more accurate phrasing would be a long and painful Q&A session knowing his charge.

She wasted no time with pleasantries. “Why do you put up with so much from me? Why choose me to guard? I mean, there are how many others to guard?” she asked, completely confused and hating it. Not only did she hate it, but they both knew how much she hated not understanding what drew people to her, what inspired them to protect her, not because they had to, but because they wanted to.

He was silent a long moment, clearly thinking of how to phrase his response. “Because you are you,” he said simply. A dark look encouraged him to continue. “I would not have the patience to handle another child. Besides, I don’t know of any with the audacity or endurance to listen to me.”

She mulled that over. “Audacity and endurance,” she repeated, amused. “Interesting choice of words.”

He shrugged. It seemed that would be the only answer. She was about to encourage him to elaborate, he continued, “You are quite audacious. You keep me in check.”

She laughed at that. “Ri-ight.”

He smirked, “Well, you try anyway.”

That got a small chuckle from his companion. She turned to look him in the eye, humor gone. “Yeah, that’s why you go off and almost get yourself killed so often.”

He leaned over to kiss her forehead, ignoring the heated glare at the motion. “But that, little one, is my duty.”

She looked skeptical. “Your duty is to go off, get yourself nearly killed, come back unconscious and bleeding all over me, my room and my stuffed animals?” Her thoughts flashed to a white horse that her mother had bought her, which was now stained with demonic blood, as well as some posters and a teddy bear. They had all gotten stained the same night, the first night she was aware that he was gone, and the first night that she was aware of the sensation of someone else sharing her bed, though invisible to the naked eye. That hadn’t been a good semester of college.

He nodded. “Yep, it is.” Then at her glare, “It is my job to keep you out of the line of fire. If that means going off and getting a little roughed up…”

“A little roughed up?!” she practically screeched. “I would say that being three-fourths dead by the time you get home, and being unconscious for I don’t even know how long, is a little more than roughed up!”

He gave her a one armed hug. “But I did survive,” he reminded her gently.

She sighed, “You do realize we both attract trouble like magnets?” She made the statement a question, trying to force him to respond to what they both knew to be true.

He ignored it.

She tried for a different tact. “You know, your ex gave me a lot to think about. She gave lots of smoke, but she said some things that got me thinking.”

That was probably the one comment that could not be ignored. Nor was it one he was expecting. His gaze turned colder. “I’m sorry.” It was half apology, the closest she would get, but more warning to drop the topic.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, content to let the silence stretch as each visited memories of the wicked bitch of the west.

“Are you in for the long haul?” she asked, suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere.

His answer was typically one word, “Explain.”

She sighed, and tried to wave away the question. “Nothing, stupid question,” she tried, not quite meeting his gaze. On one level she had answered the question as soon as it was out of her mouth, on another, she wanted, needed to hear him say what they both knew.

“No. Explain.” His tone went from merely irritated to irritated, confused and slightly hurt as he continued, “Do you believe her over me? Over what I have sworn?”

She tried to cut him off, “No.”

He wasn’t going to drop it, however. No, now he was on a roll. “Do you fear that I will leave you or stop listening like everyone else has? Betray you? Cut out your heart?”

She smiled inwardly. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that he was venting about his ex, or that he could be talking about either one of them. Their friends have said over and over that they were opposite sides of the same coin. They both stubbornly refused to see it.

Then she answered his questions, sort of. She carefully made eye contact. “You are one of my rocks,” she said, quietly, almost inaudibly, “and if you don’t know that by now, you haven’t been paying attention.”

“It is my job to protect you, not hurt you.” He smiled, almost bitterly, almost as if his heart were breaking as he spoke, “Yet you fear loosing your rocks.” He wrapped his arm around her and tugged her to his lap, resting his chin on the top of her head. She seemed to sink back into him, as if to pull his solid, comforting presence around her like a blanket or some unbreakable shield. He sighed softly, sadly. It tore at him that she was so fiercely loyal and protective, but oh so battered. She may survive the curve balls life threw at her, but not without payment, whatever it may be.

She nodded and eventually mumbled, “I fear loosing my rocks.”

He rocked her gently and she burrowed further into his embrace. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if warding off a cold that only she could feel. “I do not intend to die or go away any time soon. And when I say “soon” I mean next several million years. We have forever, little one,” he said softly.

She laughed, ignoring the tears that had been running down her cheeks for the last few minutes. Whoever said that shoveling emotional shit was a cake walk was full of it and could come shovel the shit that had piled up in her life. She couldn’t think of much that she detested above the emotional shit, especially with her tangled web of men whom she loved, but could not get along with each other. Her father “is working on it”, which translates to “I’m trying sort of to be nice to your boyfriend but it is going to take time, possibly centuries before I am remotely civil”. Her boyfriend, well, who the hell knows what’s going on there, other than “your father hates me and your guardian is a frigging demon.” And her guardian, well, her guardian is “willing to put up with your boyfriend” and gets along great with her father. Go figure. She stared at the unobtrusively dull light grey rug they were rather gracelessly sprawled on. “You and my mother have the loosest concept of the word “soon”,” she commented. He laughed.

She continued, “I mean, I should trust you by now. You’ve seen me while at my weakest and most vulnerable.” Her mind flashed to memories of crying over broken trust, which her friends had mistaken for a broken heart, crying over people she had loved who died, and countless nights of restless sleeping and disturbing dreams as she spoke.

“Yet you still fear,” he interjected. She shrugged.

“And you’re still here,” she continued with the train of thought, as if he had never interrupted the flow of thoughts. “That has to say something.” Even to her, that sentence sounded more pleading than fact.

He smiled gently, “I know better than to give up on you?” He made it a question rather than a statement, trying to force her to admit what she knew.

However, like he did, she ignored it. “I’m not sure what it says, just that is says something.”

He sighed and hugged her. He couldn’t help but wonder how to get her to see that she wasn’t always being used for someone else’s plot. “What can I say to you that will make you see that you aren’t always being used? That your trust is worth something to some people?”

Her gaze was blank as she stared at the floor in front of her and shrugged, stubbornly not responding verbally.

He sighed and kissed her forehead once more.

That got her attention. The fire that seemed to have almost lowed too far sprang back into her eyes. She rounded on him. “Will you stop that?!” Then, more to herself than him, “I blame Stald for all this forehead kissing shit.” While her words were rebellious, her actions did not match the fire. She was clinging for all she was worth to her demonic companion.

He smiled, half mischievous, half sad, “My poor little charge.”

She glared up at him, not releasing her grip. “Don’t even think about kissing me again,” she hissed.

“But you need it so badly,” he told her.

She cocked her head to the side curiously, temper abandoned in the face of new information. “Why?”

He sighed to himself. “Because you are alone and so very sad sometimes.”

She shrugged, not sure how to answer that. She finally settled on retorting, “But that’s why I keep you around. Well, that and you know almost all of my tells, and that is dangerous information, so I like to keep you close so you don’t go blabbing.”

He laughed, and she had the feeling he was laughing at her. “Indeed ‘tis very dangerous yet I don’t worry about using it against you.”

She shot him an annoyed glare, and mumbled, “Cocky demon.”

He chuckled, not the least bit put off. “And you are a cocky elven child.”

She nodded agreeably. “Yep.”

He continued, ignoring her smirking interruption, “Who thinks that she knows best and is an innocent in so many ways. Yet she is my charge and I protect her.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” she mumbled, dryly.

He laughed and kissed her cheek before she was able to get out of his arms.

She glared down at him. “You know,” she said, almost conversationally, but with an undercurrent of frustration, “for a grumpy hard ass you are very touchy feely.”

He smirked up at her. “But I still have my “grumpy hard ass” rep.”

She rolled her eyes at him before turning on her heel and slamming the door behind her as she left the room.

He sighed and slumped against the wall, ignoring the once-more rippling mirror. He was glad she had left, for only her Goddess knew how she’d react to the older copy of him smirking down at him.

“Well, wasn’t that sweet,” he sneered.

Mateal sighed. “Go away, Kierys. You don’t get to play with her. She is out of your league by far. Besides, I thought you preferred something with more wolf and less elf,” he snapped.

Kierys smirked, “You’d like to think that. We aren’t finished,” he promised, melting back to wherever the hell he came from.

He sighed and muttered, “I am definitely too old for this shit,” and crossed back through the mirror, and to his waiting chair and book.