The Christmas Demon

They're usually easy to find.  They stop in after work for milk, if they are hopeful, beer if they are not.  Maybe they plan to feed a sweet tooth on one more lonely night when they come to the Seven Eleven with their few dollars and their false smiles. The loneliest ones always make the call, whether it is home to momma, or to the married man they'd been dumped by, or the last boyfriend to make them happy.  I can tell when they've lost out again by the tears that gather in the corners of their eyes. I want to drink those tears.  I need that anguish to live.

I leave them alone, though, unless they are foolish enough to make the call.  When they pick up that phone, they are mine.

In the bathroom I check the mirror, just to make sure I look okay.  The cracked mirror lit by a single bulb makes my nose look a bit too pointy, but it's not too bad for a beak.  My hair falls in layered clumps around my collar. Sort of a wise owl look, I decide.  My eyes are the most disturbing I suppose, as they peer out opposite sides of my head.  It makes it easy to see things going on outside a normal plane of vision though. Angels get human bodies and wings; we get bird bodies and arms.  Someone down there has a sense of humor.

 The black overcoat does a good job of covering my feathers, and since I have the arms of a human, it fits okay.  My feet would give me away, if anyone bothered to look.   When they are being kidnapped, maimed or murdered, as I see fit, most people aren't too worried about the feet of the perpetrator.

The things the callers say are fascinating, though. They pray a lot, as if that is going to change things. Not bloody likely.

I'm hungry.  Christmas time has so many do-gooders that the balance between good and evil gets lopsided.  But the closer we get to the holiday, the more desperate people become.  Then I can feast. 

Especially at the Seven Eleven. Tonight's morsel seemed to be waiting for someone.  When she picked up the phone, she asked for someone named Joe.  "Please tell him I'm waiting for him, and to hurry." My lucky day. I hang up my end, and slide out of the shadows.

"Something wrong, Ma'am?"  I asked her. She sort of glowed there in the circle of yellow neon light.  Her belly made it clear her pregnancy was pretty far along.  I'd never taken a pregnant one before. This would be fun.

"No, thank you." She replied.  "My boyfriend is just held up at work. I'm sure he'll be here any minute. We're having a baby." She smiled.

"I see that.  When?"

"Any day now.  We came up from Corpus Christi so we could have the baby in a real hospital.  But now Joe's insurance says they won't pay if we aren't married.  We are hoping to be able to tie the knot before the baby comes."

"Insurance... there's a bah humbug for you.  Worse than taxes in this day and age."

"You got that right."  She gripped her lower abdomen.  "Oh wow."

"You okay?"  I asked.  She was nearly doubled over.

"No, I think I'm... I'm in labor.  Where is Joe?" she wailed.

I walked over and touched her, light as a feather, and sealed her fate. "Why don't you let me take you? Then I'll come back and wait for Joe."  And I would. Oh yes, I would.

I could tell she wanted to say no, so I was patient. She really didn't know yet she was all mine. The next contraction convinced her.

I drove her to St. Anne's Episcopal first.  Nice modern private hospital.  The receptionist had three questions.  "Are you pre registered?"

The girl, whose name was Maria, was being as brave as could be expected.  "No, I'm not from here."

"Is your doctor on staff?" the efficient woman asked.

"I don't have a doctor." Maria gritted her teeth. I moved next to her to… okay, I moved next to her to increase her pain.  She groaned.

"Are you the father?" the receptionist asked me.

"No, I just offered to drive her here." 

The receptionist allowed herself one more question. "You know where County General is?"

When I nodded, she suggested I "offer" to drive her "there."

I knew what it would be like at County.  Especially on Christmas Eve.  I drove her instead to a little out of the way place I know, called the Stable Inn.

The baby was born just after midnight, a moonless night so dark there wasn't a star in the sky.   Maria, of course, bled to death.  I'm keeping the baby, and naming him Susej.  I'll call him Sue, like that old Johnny Cash song. If I'm lucky, and raise him right, he'll grow up to be a terrorist.