I alone am the honoured

i think we have a spy

•••

Asmodeus paced back and forth in my head. For the whole night.

"Can you stop?," I groaned, holding a pillow to my face as I shuffled under the thin blanket.

It, in fact, did not stop. I huffed out a blare of smoke and squeezed my eyes shut again.

After a beat or two of silence, Asmodeus' agitation grew, therefore increasing the disaster of a migraine my head was already experiencing.

That's it, no more sleep for me. Pushing the blankets away before I trapped myself in their inviting warmth, I folded the fabric neatly and replaced all of the pillows I threw off in the night.

I opened all the cupboards in the kitchen before I eventually found some cereal. Pouring the contents into a large bowl and adding milk, I went to find my laptop to research my next victims.

Looking under the sofa for where it would normally be, yesterday's events blew over me and I dropped my cereal. "Fuck."

Quickly, I cleaned up the cereal and a short, panicked laugh escaped my mouth. No, no, no.

I scowled at Asmodeus' presence flitting around inside me with an air of anticipation - It knows someone is going to die tonight. I yanked all of the cushions off of the brown sofa, double-checking I did not leave it in a stupidly obvious place.

I froze, my throat sharpening with rocks.

The motel is a two hour journey by foot and no way am I heeding the possibility of It to get me there. I do not trust It enough despite knowing at every waking second what It is thinking and feeling.

A moment caught me. A sliver of a memory. A yellow banged-up car resting in the scrapyard, new to the fellow home, ready to be destroyed.

———

Asmodeus seemed to give me a pointed look inside my head.

We both examined the scrap of metal that vaguely resembled a car, the paint job washed off with the incessant amount of bird-shits the owner had to scrape off. Yet, they failed miserably as the white stains relented and plopped themselves around the exterior.

"We have no other choice." I scratched my nose, looking around to see if anyone else is present in the yard. A horrible stench of mould invaded my nose and I avoided on inhaling too much of it before it clogged my throat.

Asmodeus whizzed around behind my eyes, hoping to cause me discomfort. "No. For the last time, I am not using you."

"First of all, I'm still injured. Second of all, I'm not risking you killing an innocent bystander because you're 'in the mood'," I said.

Asmodeus held Its ground for a second before considering my words and retreated wordlessly to the secluded part of my brain that I can't access.

The driver's door creaked open, as if inviting me with its broken, scrawny finger and to drive it for all its worth — whatever worth that is but I know I have to make do.

No living beings dared to enter this part of the city, which is exactly why I love it. Void of any living creatures. No prancing little Faes or high-all-mighty Vampyres would ever think of stepping a mile within the vicinity, so at least I can commit this crime in peace. Is it really a crime if someone steals from a scrapyard? Everyone else seems to have self-respect except me.