The feather looked out of place in a pothole behind Fastway—black, but blue under the right light. It fell from the tail of a black bird that caws. Ignoring the moisture on my feet, I take its stem between my teeth. I look around, make sure its owner isn’t coming back for it, and sprint back toward the lair.

I am still small enough to fit under the chain link fence behind the store.

Under parked cars, between houses, through tall grass, past barking dogs, and a stinky creature with a white stripe—I run without slowing down. There’s no time to stop and chat. I need to take my gift to the tall one. My tail whips in the air behind me as I race a squirrel up a tree and take to the roofs. It’s faster this way.

The tall one is on the balcony, bathed in green light, bare feet up on the rail, sipping something strong.  I run down the shingles and into the air, landing the jump and never dropping my gift. After laying the blue-black feather at his feet, I circle and give my best Pay attention, mortal mew.

He bends to pick it up.

“Azazel,” he says, scratching between my ears. “You brought me a crow feather.”

I purr and lean into his touch, thankful he is pleased.

“You know these are illegal. It’ll have to be our secret.”

I follow him inside. The soft one is in the kitchen—also in bare feet—stirring tea that smells like french toast. The tall one puts the feather on the altar, between the chunk of shiny black stone and the book of matches from New Orleans. “You’re a weird little gremlin,” he says with a smile, running a hand down my back. I jump onto the altar and loaf between several black candles. My offering has been accepted.

Later, while the humans sleep, I perch in the window, watching like a gargoyle over my little corner of Gehenna.

Author’s Note:

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The image above was created with DALL-E, in the future when life slows down a bit, I plan to use my own art for these stories. But for now, this works.

Thanks for reading.

V.