The Atrophy of Clementine Darlington

XXIII | A Little More Than Friends

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Salad was beginning to become a bore. Clementine stared down at the leaves of lettuce and slices of cucumber and tomato laid out on his plate. The lunch hall had quickly filled with students, and while Elliot told Mavis and Mathew how to identify a wolf walker, Clementine glanced around the room.

          Despite having Mathew with them, he still found he felt unsettlingly cautious. Ian's threat echoed around inside his head, his injured body throbbed at the memory of the beating he'd received, and he couldn't help but ask himself, what if Sebastien hadn't come along when he had? It would have all ended right there and then. Anette would have died for nothing, and so would he.

          He didn't want to focus on that, though. He'd lived through it, he was still breathing, and he had a plan.

          "So, remember," Elliot announced, his voice breaking through Clementine's thoughts, "the eyes."

          Mavis clapped her hands. "You're so brilliant, Elliot!"

          Elliot smiled shyly. "Oh, I just...studied a lot."

          Mathew nodded. "It is good to have vast knowledge, especially in a place such as this."

          Clementine crunched a piece of cucumber between his teeth and sighed. "What about demons?" he asked. "You thought Mathew was one—how do we tell those apart from the crowd?"

          "Well," Elliot said, stirring his coffee with a spoon, "that really depends. There are many different species of demons. Some have pointed ears, some don't. Some are pale, others aren't. But the biggest tell-tale sign is the fact they form packs. Demons are often compared to wolves in studies; they group up, have an alpha, betas—some larger groups have an apex, which rules over several other alphas and their packs."

          Nodding, Clementine listened.

          "They also smell a little like sulphur—yeah, all demons have their unique scents, but there's always that hint of sulphur, no matter what."

          Sulphur.... Clementine frowned strangely. He'd smelt sulphur the night he'd found Molly—the night that creature had chased him. Could that mean that creature was a demon?

          "They hiss a lot," Elliot continued. "Snarl and growl and stuff—they're so grouchy, rude, stuck-up, but that pretty much sums up most of the kids here anyway. Oh, but never try chatting to a girl demon that's been imprinted on. I knew someone from Ripperton who tried flirting with this demon girl, and her mate swooped in and...well, it was a mess, to say the least."

          Mathew nodded. "Yes, demons and their imprinting—"

          "Imprinting?" Mavis asked curiously.