THREE: Who are you Danica Stewart?

Rohan

Watching Westminster's bridge through the TV takes me back to watching it physically as a four year old, mourning the destruction of his people.

Seeing this meant only one thing, the gate to the realm of mortals has been taken and they have begun attacking the red bloods.

"You are not wrong." Arlan speaks out. He must have read my thoughts.

Turning to look at him, he meets my eyes.

"They won't." He says again.

I replay Arlan's statement in my head and I remember hearing that same statement again and again as a child.

It’s been twenty five years, a long period for a boy to become a man. One where that boy can no more be deceived by hearsay.

Deep down I know a war is coming or it might be already here.

“But why now? Why are they hiding the bodies instead of coming out plainly like they did on Jade Earth?” I draw my gaze back to the TV.

Demons cannot hunt in the day here, the sun is a threat. They can only attack at night.”

“But that doesn’t stop them. Why are they choosing to attack just a few and hiding the body? It’s as though they do not want to be found.” I focus on the TV as I respond to Arlan’s statement.

What are they planning? It’s been twenty five years. Are the other realms taken yet? Why now?

These thoughts remain on my mind without a possible answer. One thing is certain though,

I might have been running all my life, but this time, not anymore. They can come, I will be waiting.

"Rohan, we cannot get involved in this realm. It is not ours, we do not belong here." Arlan speaks again.

"We do not belong anywhere Arlan. Last time I checked, our home was destroyed by the very same demons. This realm was home then, it became ours the very day we stepped foot here. It might not be home at heart but it is home and I won't run away this time." I reply him.

Arlan sighs without another word.

"The breakfast has become cold." He says after a few minutes of dead silence; even his thoughts were silent. Suddenly he stands and reaches for his jacket.

"Going somewhere?" I turn towards him with a start.

"Your wealth won't manage itself." Arlan replies.

"Oh! Well you can as well take a break once in a while, did you just come here to cook me breakfast? I feel special Arlan." Turning back to the TV, I snuggle lazily into the couch, choosing only to switch between channels.

"Not today though, someone apparently donated money without caring to inform me." He releases an exasperated sigh. One with an expression I already can picture with turning.

"I was bored."I release a long breath while flipping the remote.

A channel with paranormal scenes takes my attention.

"Oh! Jeez! It would make me work less if you will find a new hobby or make your anonymous self known, Lord Rohan." Arlan walks to the door and opens it. "Oh and try to do something else other than spending your years in this house, you are beginning to look like a caveman.

"What? Caveman? Hey! Arlan!" I shout, watching his back disappear behind the front door.

The moment he leaves, I dash towards the door and lock it, changing the password immediately.

“Let’s see how he gets this.” Grinning to myself, I turn to a mirror by the door. “Me caveman?” I scoff, “I’ll show you who the caveman is.” Running my hands through my ruffle brown hair, I think out loud, admiring my physique.

"Up next, “The Paranormal.” From the TV, the anchor woman’s high pitched voice echoes, pausing me in action suddenly. Her sudden statement attracts my gaze and I walk back to the TV.

"Youngest Parapsychologist Danica Stewart makes breakthrough in her research; "They Walk

Among Us. Among others is the Spectrum Paranormal Investigations dinner, which will be held to celebrate the newly hired interns."

Mm… Indeed, I think with an amused smile. Then, switching off the TV, I walk back to the bedroom.

Plumping down on the bed with a force, I allow my back to sink into the sheets.

Yet another boring day, I sigh and dim the lights, closing my eyes to fall asleep. But that name remains on my mind.

"Danica Stewart." Involuntarily, my mind replays the anchor woman’s statement and I listen to the sound of her name, allowing it to roll on my tongue.

When it becomes too much, I groan out loud, and then grab the duvet; pulling it over my head.

However, underneath, I toss and turn restlessly, unable to sleep from the mantra chanting in my head.

This continues for a few more seconds until I sit up with a start.

"Danica Stewart." I reach for my laptop immediately and type in her name. Then watching as my laptop comes to life with images and pages on her research, I suck in a breath.

Parapsychologist works at Spectrum Paranormal Investigations, London. “Oh she works in that same organization with the dinner event.”

I click on her recent article, and wait but just as I am about to scroll down, my fingers pause as I read through the first few lines of the first article I see.

"They walk among us; they look like us but are they really humans? Living under the guise of being human, they prey on our darkest fears. They make us fear them, we dread their presence yet we love them because they are our family, friends, and lovers. In the daily survival of lives, are we the hunters or prey? Who really are they? Where do they come from? Who really are you?"

I freeze as coldness envelopes my body. My whole attention is now focused on the article and its writer.

Reading through the rest of her article, it places me in deep thoughts.

"Who are you Danica Stewart?"

An image of the eyes I see in my memories flashes, coming along with an intense pang of head throbbing pain.

I grip my head immediately. “No, it can’t be her. Yes she would have grown by now too but…” I read the first lines of the article once more.

“These words… Why do they seem so real?” Releasing an agitated sigh, I plump back downwards on the bed.

Then closing my eyes, I slowly calm my mind down and when the pain subsides, the thought of having a dark chocolate and red velvet mixed cake parfait hits me hard.

Feeling a strong sense of want for it, I walk to the kitchen; headed straight for the fridge.

Let's see, I should still have a few cups in there. Rubbing my hands I pull open the fridge door but to my utter disappointment, there was none.

That moment, I begin having countless thoughts of a creamy packed cake parfait; my sense of smell also begins working twice as hard as it normally does.

“Shit...” Turning, I notice Arlan’s breakfast covered neatly on the kitchen island. Then, emptying the dish in the bin, I do the dishes, trying hard to get my mind off the images of the parfait.

At the end of it all, I surrender to the creamy goodness, easing myself from the torment.

Hurrying back to the bedroom, I grab my keys from the nightstand; the taste of Browns Victoria’s cake Parfait dominating my mind.

Then, without wasting any moment, I head out the door.