Dear Demon

Dear Demon, whatever your name may be (oh,I wish I knew!) I hope that you can understand this note. You look so human--except for the wings and the claws and fangs, of course, and the fact that you are so much lovelier than human girls-- so I have to assume you speak English. I thought I saw comprehension in your eyes the day I found you on the beach. I know you must have been in horrible pain—your wing was so tattered!--but you didn’t strike out at me when I told you I was there to help you. And I am.
So I hope you understand that I had to lock you in the loo. I know it’s not exactly ideal, but it was only a matter of time before my older brother Basil would come along with his gun and his dog. It simply wasn’t safe for you to be out in the open—and it’s getting less safe by the moment. My sister Adelle has hired a demon hunter, a Mr. Arthur Harkness. He arrived yesterday. Thankfully, so far he has stayed up by the main house, and you will certainly know if he comes down here by the guest cottage because he speaks as if he’s on the stage and he reeks of cigars. My sister is smitten with him, naturally, and follows him like a puppy looking for scraps. She’s determined that I should like him, too. Something about me “needing male role models” and “making something worthwhile of this foolish obsession with demons.” Well, I’ll never apprentice myself to someone who hunts demons and mounts them on the wall, and I certainly have no intention of being bossed about like he bosses his man-servant, Edgar. It’s no wonder Edgar is such a nervous, shifty little man. He watches me with those little vole eyes. They’re both only interested in me because my sister told them I survived the pox demonic. Well, I’ll only talk to them if it means a chance to find out more about their strange contraptions. There’s something called a necronometer in our front hall. Perhaps I will write to the Royal Academy of Demonology to ask them what it does.
Well, there is a bright side to all this: Basil is barely around. He is spending every moment of his time on the beach with Champ. He says he’s trying to train the dog to hunt, but he may just be trying to stay away from the demon hunter. For the first time in history, Basil and I agree.
The other bright spot in all this my sister’s friend Marguerite, who also arrived yesterday. She and my sister have been friends since the cradle. Now she is studying nursing at the hospital I stayed in while convalescing from the pox. She is such a sensible sort and quite kind. If your wing continues to fester, I would consider telling her about you because I believe she may be able to help. Do you think that you could tolerate her ministrations? I am loathe to trust anyone with our secret, but I think she could be trusted to keep things hush. In fact, I am beginning to suspect that she may have a secret of her own.
Well, consider these chicken bones an offering. I’m sorry it isn’t more, but it’s all I could smuggle today. Tonight my sister is roasting lamb—“It’s Mr. Harkness’ favorite!”—so I will try to filch you a cut. Until then, I hope you are healing and growing strong. And I hope you will write me back.
Your would-be friend,
Theo



Laura Bradley Rede