The Devil Likes Lemon Cupcakes

The Devil And His Tragedies

            »I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity and her flaming

               self respect. And it's these things I'd believe in, even if

           the whole world indulged in wild suspicions that she wasn't all

                                             She should be.

                                     I love her and that is the

                                     Beginning of everything.«

                                         F. Scott Fitzgerald

A young couple sat down next to us, placing their belongings at the bottom of their feet. Heavy backpacks revealed the fact that they were tourists. After they received their order of one black coffee and one coffee with milk, they checked out the photos they must have taken that day. Though, even without the large backpacks it was easy to spot that they were out of town; massive jackets with unflattering colours, hiking boots – they spoke for themselves.

They were nothing like the elegant Parisienne Salome.

»How can you possibly help me?« I asked.

»I am quite clever,« Salome stood up and thus announced our departure. »I've been clever ever since I was only human. I was always fascinated by the world, history, psychology...« We walked beneath the street lights, basking ourselves in their dusky presence. »I have met the greatest minds of 20th century, Freud, Nietzsche, even Rilke, the poet. Now imagine having a hunger for knowledge and the possibility of immortality.«

»Is that why you've chosen to live forever?« Something ruffled inside my bag.

»Well, immortality is not the right term exactly. It's true that vampires live a very long time, but we are not immortal. Sooner or later we all turn to dust. Think of us...like a bridge between demons and humans. Only demons have the capability to live forever.«

»So, you're half demon?« I caressed Layla's fluffy fur as she began growling.

»I'm in the in between; not quite alive like humans, not quite dead as demons.« She squinted her eyes at my bag, carefully peeking in. »What have you got there?«

Salome touched the bag, opening it up to see inside. Layla's growling only increased and she swung her large paws towards her. »Gardien!« She screeched in french. »What are you doing with that? It can't be here, it will create a paradox!«

I tried to calm down the ferocious beast who was still groaning. »I-I'm sorry, I didn't know! He never told me...What paradox?«

»Guardians or Wanetas' – «

»I know what they are. Soul protectors in the Underworld.« I cut her off.

Pale moonlight shone across her face, and the shadows of trees pressed its shapes on her frailty like temporary tattoos. »Yes, in the Underworld. He was not meant to be here.«

»It's a she. And she is here to protect me.«

»Right, I do apologize.« Salome shook her head, letting a few strains of hair escape that neatly crafted bun.

Layla finally quieted down, realizing that there was no demonic threat. Or half demonic. »Anyway, how can you help me?«

Old building with sharp features seemed to have been our destination. I followed her up the stone stairs that led towards a wooden door with a black iron handle. Salome reached into her pocket for a key. »As I said before, I have a lot of knowledge inside my mind, a lot of stories, myths and legends. Everything can be solved, even a curse.«