Friends with the King of the Underworld | Book 1

Chapter Ten

She squealed. Taking my hand, she led me to the family room. She sat on one end of the black leather couch and asked me to sit in a lounge chair across from her. She grabbed a blanket on the couch and placed it over her shoulders and then around her. She looked like a child excitedly waiting for a story.

"What did he tell you so far?"

She smiled. "He's King."

I smiled and nodded. "Yes, he is."

"How long has he been King?"

I shook my head. "Not long."

She cleared her throat. "Are there many of them? You know, Kings where he is? Or is he, like, it?"

I could understand where her question would come from. It really wasn't every day someone like us would meet royalty. I smiled, crossed my legs and placed my folded hands on my knees as I did. "He's it. The only one."

"How did he become King?"

I gave the question a thought and knowing how hurt Damien still was about his father's death, I answered, "His father had an accident. He didn't make it." I tried to keep it as vague as possible. "He doesn't like to talk about it. His father was all he had left."

She nodded in understanding and crept closer to the edge of the chair. "How long have you known each other?"

"Fifteen years, give or take? We were both kids."

"So. He's really as old as he looks? He was a kid recently?"

I arched an eyebrow. "Yes, we were both children when we met. He really is twenty-five."

Her lips formed into an Oh in understanding. "He'd mentioned that we live, you know, a long time."

I nodded. "Yes. His father was over two hundred years old."

"Wow," she breathed. She tugged at her hair and started to braid it nervously. "Wow, okay. So – how will that work out with you two being friends ... ? I mean, you're human ... "

I shrugged my shoulders. "He doesn't like to talk about it."

She grabbed a small throw pillow from the couch and placed it on her lap, wrapping her arms around it. She had a dreamy face on her, she placed a palm on her chin attentively. "What's he like? I mean, I know him a little bit. He's been answering some questions but what's he like? You've known him forever – is he," she paused.

I looked at her, trying to guess her next word.

"Kind?" she squeaked.

I wanted to laugh. The girl that had tormented me through most of my teen years was afraid someone wouldn't be kind to her.

There was a time when I thought she didn't deserve any sort of kindness. Wasn't worthy of it. But as I grew up I realized - she probably needed it more than most people.

Especially now.

I smiled and raked my fingers through my damp hair, still wet from the morning. "He's the kindest person I know."

I saw her visibly relax. "Really?"

I nodded and laughed. "And funny. I mean, he can be pretty intense – very serious - but once you get to know him, he really is one of the funniest, kindest people you will ever meet." A memory came to me. "Like, one time he went with me and my parents to the Christmas Tree lot down on Seventh."

Leah nodded indicating she knew what I was talking about.

"And we overheard a conversation between Mrs. Johnson and her sister who was in town visiting from Florida. Her kids were expecting snow but it had been unseasonably warm that month so it hadn't. The kids were pretty sad about it. Damien created snow, just for them. It snowed four inches that night. The kids loved it. The meteorologist was going crazy though – he'd never seen anything like it in his career, he said."