theory you agree with. Some say the Prince created them. Some say it was one or more of the gods. Some say it was an accident, sort of like life forming here in the first place.”
“So Earth’s the only planet with life on it?”
I snorted. “Hardly. But life is still rare, percentage-wise. I mean, when you consider all the universes.”
“There’s more than one universe?” Jack was starting to sound like he was getting a headache.
“Yeah. You know, let’s just focus on Hansel and Gretel for the moment. They were never human siblings. Humans don’t turn into hellhounds or daemon cats. Demons do.”
“So they’re evil?” Jack didn’t sound like he believed it, which either showed his insight or naiveté. I went for insight.
“No. Demons aren’t born evil. They’re just born in the nether realms. They have souls and so have the same choices the rest of us do -- serve the Prince or refuse and fight him. If you want to get technical, an altar-demon’s soul is pledged to a god and hell-demon’s soul is pledged to the Prince. If an altar-demon runs into a werewolf and gets bitten, then they don’t change into a wolf, because only a human base gives you a werewolf. They turn into a daemon cat or a hellhound, depending.”
“Depending on the sex?”
“No, natural proclivity. Hansel and Gretel could have both been one or the other, or switched, but this was what was ‘right’ for each of them. Good for us, by the way, because many times hellhounds and daemon cats fight like, uh, cats and dogs, but having a team of them is really helpful.”
Jack seemed to consider this. “You know, here’s something else. You call yourselves undeads. But you’re alive. I mean, you breathe, you eat, you sleep. I can understand why many of the others are undeads, but not you, or them,” he indicated Hansel and Gretel.
“Well, they stopped being otherworldly and I stopped being human. Essentially, those parts of us died. Demons, like humans, have average lifespans. Once you’re a werewolf, hellhound, daemon cat, or any of the other species we call part of the greater undead, you can unlive forever. You can be destroyed, of course -- dusted or so damaged you’re unable to function -- but it’s much harder. So, we’re part of the undead, no longer a part of the living worlds we came from.”
“That must be hard,” he said softly.
I shrugged. “It’s not too bad. There are a lot of benefits. And the undead community is pretty welcoming. Besides, the alternatives for some of us made becoming an undead very appealing.”
“Like what?”
I was saved from avoiding an answer by our arrival outside of the OLOC and the appearance of a thin, sad-looking man with a receding hairline. His face wreathed in smiles when he saw us, though.
“Victoria, my dear, I’m so relieved you weren’t badly injured.” Edgar gave me a hug, then shook hands or paws with the males, depending, hugged the females, and patted Rover. He turned and looked expectantly at Jack.
“Edgar, please meet Detective Jack Wagner, Prosaic City P.D. Jack, this is Doctor of Demonology Edgar Allen Poe.”
Jack’s mouth dropped. Edgar twinkled and gave him a sweeping bow. “At your service.”
Chapter 12
I wrapped my arm through Edgar’s and Amanda did the same. Gretel adjusted her size and jumped up onto his shoulder. H.P. was fun and polite and fatherly; Edgar was charming, he loved the ladies, and we loved him right back.
Even though he was actually a lich, I always thought of him as a man, mostly because he was so young, as liches go, that he was at no risk of turning stone-like and none of his parts ever wobbled, let alone fell off. Monty assured me that in a few hundred years Edgar was going to stop being the ladies’ man of the lich set, but I didn’t worry about it and I knew Edgar didn’t, either.
It was always fun to see the other males’ reactions to Edgar’s effect on the females. It was nice to see that Jack seemed just
“So Earth’s the only planet with life on it?”
I snorted. “Hardly. But life is still rare, percentage-wise. I mean, when you consider all the universes.”
“There’s more than one universe?” Jack was starting to sound like he was getting a headache.
“Yeah. You know, let’s just focus on Hansel and Gretel for the moment. They were never human siblings. Humans don’t turn into hellhounds or daemon cats. Demons do.”
“So they’re evil?” Jack didn’t sound like he believed it, which either showed his insight or naiveté. I went for insight.
“No. Demons aren’t born evil. They’re just born in the nether realms. They have souls and so have the same choices the rest of us do -- serve the Prince or refuse and fight him. If you want to get technical, an altar-demon’s soul is pledged to a god and hell-demon’s soul is pledged to the Prince. If an altar-demon runs into a werewolf and gets bitten, then they don’t change into a wolf, because only a human base gives you a werewolf. They turn into a daemon cat or a hellhound, depending.”
“Depending on the sex?”
“No, natural proclivity. Hansel and Gretel could have both been one or the other, or switched, but this was what was ‘right’ for each of them. Good for us, by the way, because many times hellhounds and daemon cats fight like, uh, cats and dogs, but having a team of them is really helpful.”
Jack seemed to consider this. “You know, here’s something else. You call yourselves undeads. But you’re alive. I mean, you breathe, you eat, you sleep. I can understand why many of the others are undeads, but not you, or them,” he indicated Hansel and Gretel.
“Well, they stopped being otherworldly and I stopped being human. Essentially, those parts of us died. Demons, like humans, have average lifespans. Once you’re a werewolf, hellhound, daemon cat, or any of the other species we call part of the greater undead, you can unlive forever. You can be destroyed, of course -- dusted or so damaged you’re unable to function -- but it’s much harder. So, we’re part of the undead, no longer a part of the living worlds we came from.”
“That must be hard,” he said softly.
I shrugged. “It’s not too bad. There are a lot of benefits. And the undead community is pretty welcoming. Besides, the alternatives for some of us made becoming an undead very appealing.”
“Like what?”
I was saved from avoiding an answer by our arrival outside of the OLOC and the appearance of a thin, sad-looking man with a receding hairline. His face wreathed in smiles when he saw us, though.
“Victoria, my dear, I’m so relieved you weren’t badly injured.” Edgar gave me a hug, then shook hands or paws with the males, depending, hugged the females, and patted Rover. He turned and looked expectantly at Jack.
“Edgar, please meet Detective Jack Wagner, Prosaic City P.D. Jack, this is Doctor of Demonology Edgar Allen Poe.”
Jack’s mouth dropped. Edgar twinkled and gave him a sweeping bow. “At your service.”
Chapter 12
I wrapped my arm through Edgar’s and Amanda did the same. Gretel adjusted her size and jumped up onto his shoulder. H.P. was fun and polite and fatherly; Edgar was charming, he loved the ladies, and we loved him right back.
Even though he was actually a lich, I always thought of him as a man, mostly because he was so young, as liches go, that he was at no risk of turning stone-like and none of his parts ever wobbled, let alone fell off. Monty assured me that in a few hundred years Edgar was going to stop being the ladies’ man of the lich set, but I didn’t worry about it and I knew Edgar didn’t, either.
It was always fun to see the other males’ reactions to Edgar’s effect on the females. It was nice to see that Jack seemed just
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