Free Relics by Maer Wilson Page B

knew trying to get answers out in public would not be pretty. I gave Jones my nastiest smile. He acted as if I had been sincere, another annoyance.
    “Please, if you will follow me, my car is just over here. I promise to have you returned to your own car.”
    I shrugged, and we all followed him. At the street, a sleek, shiny black limo was parked. The driver was a man in his late thirties, dressed in the typical chauffeur uniform of a white shirt, dark suit and tie. He had jumped out immediately and opened the back door.
    Nana climbed in, followed by the rest of us. Jane, Nana and I sat on the rear seat facing forward, while Jones and Thulu took the seats opposite. The car pulled smoothly away from the curb and joined the long line of traffic.
    I went on the offensive, “Nice ride for a thug.”
    Jones sighed. “La Fi, I am many things, but a thug is not one of them.”
    “Do you prefer gangster?”
    Jones laughed softly, that stupid charming laugh of his. “I think of myself as Tyler Jones, for now.”
    “You are not Tyler Jones. You're a demon.” My voice was a bit sharp.
    “Daemon is more accurate,” he said mildly.
    I snorted. “What difference does it make how you say it?”
    “Because we are not the creatures associated with demons. In fact, the ancient Greeks considered us wise, helpful and even benevolent.”
    “Uh-huh. A benevolent killer.”
    He shrugged. “So, no one is perfect.”
    Before I could form a suitable retort, Thulu gave me a cautionary look. I sat back as he took over and turned to Jones.
    “So you've admitted you're not really Jones. You have supposedly given us your real name. You apologized to Jane for killing her, and you've been very polite.” Thulu gave Jones a very direct look. “What exactly is going on here?  We've had an office full of your victims, and we'd like some answers.”
    I nodded emphatically as little Jenna's face came into my mind. “We want a lot of answers.”
    Jones looked each of us in the eye in turn. “I intend to answer as many questions as I can. You will not like some of the answers, but the answers I give you will be the truth. If there are questions that I cannot or will not answer, I will simply say so. What I cannot impress upon you enough is that we have a common enemy. One that will change this world as we know it.” He paused. “That change is not one either of our people would want,” he added darkly.
    I believed him and had chills up and down my spine to prove it.

Chapter 11
     
    According to Jones, as Dhavenbahtek, he had been in existence for thousands of years. He had lived through many ages here, as well as skipping some of Earth's, according to him, less interesting history. Most of those skipped times were those of his choosing. However, there were a few times that he had actually been banished. It didn't happen often, as there were very, very few who could actually banish him. Banishment was never permanent either, and he always found his way back to the human world.
    As humanity progressed, mankind caught his interest. The artists were the first to catch his attention. He enjoyed watching how much they could accomplish with their short, little lives. How they created art to be left behind long after they were dead and gone.
    By the time people were building the pyramids, he was regularly staying in the human world for long stretches at a time. Often, he would strike up dialogues with different people, impersonating a god or possessing the body of a human.
    Most of his fellow daemons thought his preoccupation with the human species was an oddity. Some simply used humans for amusement or fed upon them. Most had little or no interest in humanity, at all. However, there were a few others who also found mortals to be intriguing.
    More and more, Dhavenbahtek found himself actually preferring human company to those of his own kind. Humans had a capacity for great things that fascinated him. They also had a capacity for as great an evil as