The Demon Boy

Day Six - Afternoon

     The fact that Casper comes into the pub damp in spite of today's clear skies causes more than a few puzzled expressions among the earlybirds. Let them stare. They'll lose interest, as onlookers often do. And if they don't, then they're too invested to be mere passersby. Watchmen on the streets, sentries behind every door, why won't they let him be?

     Casper checks the crowd for familiar faces. He doesn't recognize any, but he wasn't in any state of mind to catalogue his stalkers while he was running ragged through the streets. Could be staring them right in the face and he wouldn't know it. Troubling.

     "You got something to say to me, boy?" Asks one of the patrons.

     Casper being too obvious, looking a little too wary, eyes lingering a little too long. He tries to brush off his suspicious behavior. "Just wonderin' if I've seen you around. You look familiar, you know?"

     "I was here yesterday with the guys." The fellow motions to others at his table. Some of them wave at Casper, one simply nods.

     "Yeah... That's probably it." Just him jumping at his own shadow again. (Get a grip!) Casper cards a hand through his mess of hair. The damp strands stick to his fingers like his already too tight shirt constricts further around his ribs and shoulders. Is it the damp that's doing it or his nerves? If only he had dry change of clothes. Pity no one left their laundry on the line today.

     The patron calls Casper back before he can leave to make his order. "Now hang on a minute. You wouldn't happen to be that traveler's boy Martha's been a'telling us to keep an eye on?"

     So they were spying on him. No, it's not all in his head after all, but the relief is bitter sweet. "Look. I don't know any Marthas. Whoever this lady is, I've never met her. Tell her whatever it is she thinks it is I've gone and done, I got nuthin' to do with it." Casper doesn't look their way. Alarm bells are ringing and he knows the tension is bleeding through into his expression. Fear is a sign of weakness; he'll do whatever it takes to hide his own (can't hide forever).

     "Easy now. It weren't nothing along the lines of that. We were a'wondering if you were in trouble, not a'making it." It's a phrase lightly said and half-jokingly. It's not taken in the same spirit that it was uttered.

     "What trouble?" His voice is higher than it should be, louder than can be ignored. It's the same mistake that Smith made, that tipped Casper off about Glenholm's wrongness even before he had a name. To add to his faults, he's facing the fellows at the table; he's exposed himself and they see how scared he's trying not to be.

     Another at the table speaks. "You been caught up in stuff you shouldn't be?" The first of their company looks between his friend and Casper. The other two at the table exchange glances over the rims of their mugs.

     Yes. No. Casper's head spins. The witch man. Eyes in jars. Magic, gold, and more money than he's seen in his life. The creepy old house he lives in. Casper has no idea what he's doing, no idea what trouble he's gotten himself into this time. He sighs. "All I know is that a bunch of creepers-" He glares pointedly at the company at hand. "- have been following me through the streets and I don't know why." He paces. "Why is the hill no man's land? What's wrong with the witch man? What is the witch man? Why is it so hard to get a bite to eat around here?" His voice keeps cracking the tenser he gets (enough to break. Almost).

     The gentleman at the table talk amongst themselves quietly while he pulls himself together. One of them motions to someone behind Casper. "Go on Alicia. You heard the little guy. Go get him something to eat, would you?"