The Demon Boy

Days Seventeen Through Twenty-One

     The days carry on in due course through this sleepy, little town called Glenholm and not a single one is wasted. Beta sprouts next to espinac on the hilltop with a number of other things. Casper sticks wooden supports into the earth where Balor tells him to. Supposedly, stalks as thin as thread that are poking out of the soil now are going to grow into long, stringy vines that will bear fruits one day. Casper has his doubts, but he's no expert. There are times, however, where he can believe. This morning, as he's looking on his burgeoning field of green, is one such occasion. A little garden plot, all his own, just to keep him fed. It's a lot of work.

     Casper insists on helping Balor water it all, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. There's not much to do thanks to the rain shower that came by before sunrise, so Casper lends a hand with the sprouts in the glasshouse instead. It's a lot of work, but seeing the fruits of his labours and the fruits to come... For the first time in forever, Casper has an appreciation for the job he been put to.

     The little garden isn't the only thing that's showing results nowadays. Curly and crew do a damn better job of keeping him informed and up to snuff than Smith and Balor do together. Harry's specialty is the great number of grievances people have about anything and everything, from the gypsies that've set up camp on the outskirts of town to the latest scandal amongst Glenholm's housewives. Curly's doing well keeping up to date with the latest events, whether it be the recent movements of the brigade or the big news items that are propagating around the community. For example, Smith's been hosting some unusual company lately: out-of-towners, the witch man, and the demon of the hill alike. The comings and goings corroborate with Casper's own observations of the manor residents. He doesn't tail Myr down for obvious reasons. As for Balor...

     "I would rather that you not accompany myself into town, Casper," he says when Casper asks if he could join him on the way down. Balor's got that stiff, wooden look about him that Casper's pegged as his 'worried and trying to hide it' face. "Indeed," Balor sighs, "it would be best if we were not seen together, lest one observe our association."

     Casper can't disagree. He's well aware of the state of affairs between the manor and the town, yet he's loath to be left behind, alone with Myr. "I don't mean the whole way down." He's not stupid. "Just... part ways. You know. To keep company."

     Regardless, Balor says no and Casper doubts he can get away with tailing him through the underbrush. The old man's too canny for it. Casper's tried to get the drop on him for a change on several occasions: the glasshouse, the manor halls, outside on the grounds. No sucess. Balor doesn't so much as turn his head. With little more ceremony than "Good afternoon, Casper," he's been caught. That'd be attempt number five.

     "You sure you don't got eyes in the back of your head?" Can't see how else he's doing it.

     "I am quite certain," Balor chuckles.

     Casper chalks it up to magics and leaves it at that. Doesn't stop him from trying, however. Gives him a sense of challenge he doesn't get now that he's not pickpocketing anymore; the boys' brigade doesn't count since they're too easy to ambush. Davis has told him not to do it time and time again while Lard-ass hiding behind him looks like he's about to have a conniption because of it. Casper overhears him trying to convince big brother Davis to ditch him. Apparently, Casper scares him.

     "Who? Him?" Davis asks astonished. "He's half your size! What in blazes are you scared of?"

     It's not just him though. The others who witnessed the fight stay similarly at arms length. The veil of silence is testimony unto itself. Good thing no one's listening. Davis invites Casper to come along with the brigade and Casper considers himself informally enlisted. Reservations of Lard-ass and crew aside, Casper fits right in. The adults no longer pay him mind now that they see the usual sprightly group instead of the one sore thumb sticking out. And, though Casper will never admit it, he likes the company.