Just Because You Can’t See It...

I sat in the corner booth, sipping stale coffee and eating day old pie. But then, I didn't come here for the food. Irma, the owner, knew me, and she didn't judge me like everyone else did.

A waitress walked by, carrying a plate to another patron. The little demon on her shoulder cocked its head at me curiously. They always seemed to be confused by a person without a demon.

But I do have a demon. Unfortunately.

My thoughts were interrupted by the ringing bell over the door. A man stood there a moment, hat in his hand, looking nervously around. His demon was standing behind his legs, peeking out as though mimicking its masters nervousness. The demon was a pale yellow color; so the man was a reader.

After a moment he spotted me and came over. "Mr. Harris?" He sounded as nervous as he looked.

"Have a seat. And for heavens sakes relax, will you?"

"R-right."

Irma walked up, her little red demon sitting in an apron pocket. She smiled at me, and placed a cup of coffee in front of my new friend. "What can I get ya, sweetie?"

"Nothing, thanks." Irma nodded and walked away.

"So," I said, "what can I do for you Mr. Jones?"

There was a pause before he replied. "I need your help with something. Er, someone, actually."

"Ah." That was pretty typical. I advertised that I could take care of any problem, and most people have problems with other people. "What kind of help are we talking here?"

But Mr. Jones was staring at me. "I can't read you," he said.

"Good, that's not why I'm here. Is this an elimination we're talking about?"

"No. Well, yes. I mean, sort of." Jones watched the diner, like he was waiting for something bad to happen. He jumped when Irma heated up a pot of coffee with a burst of flame from her palm. Her demon cackled at this trivial use of it's gift to her.

"Why don't you just relax, Mr. Jones, and tell me about it."

"Right. It's my brother. I think he's going to try to kill me."

"I see. And you want me to kill him first?"

Jones hesitated. "Look, Mr. Harris, I don't typically do business with people I can't read. They usually have something to hide." When he said this, his demon hissed at me.

I sighed. "You'll need to trust me if we're going to work together. Tell me more about your brother."

"No." The little demon folded its arms stubbornly. "I want to visit your mind first, make sure you're trustworthy."

"You might not want to visit my mind, that's where my demon dwells."

A shadow crossed his face, the same confusion everyone felt when I told them where my demon was. "That's ridiculous."

I sighed again. Careful not to drop them altogether, I released some of the wards surrounding my mind, placed there to prevent readers from visiting. I could see Jones concentrating. And as he felt the wards go down, his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. I hurriedly replaced the wards. "Satisfied?" I asked.

"Dear God..."

"Yep." I took a sip of my coffee. "That's the usual reaction. Now, let's talk about your brother."