Chapter 6: A new life

 Waking up in a warm bed, Darius, formerly known as Beggar, blinked up at the ceiling. Had it all been a dream? Did he have a family now? With quick steps, he got out of bed, and headed towards the closest room. It turned out to be a bedroom. Andiel was sleeping peacefully in his bed, so Darius tiptoed out of the room, and headed in search of the kitchen. 

He didn't know how to cook, but he was sure that he could make a sandwich. Beth had taught him how to cut bread. She used to have a knife, which she used for pretty much everything. Including defense. Darius had not been able to get that knife, before the dogs had come for Beth. Darius knew that with the five silver coins that Andiel had given him last night, he could get at least fifty knives. But, did he need even one?

The life of a bounty hunter, Andiel had explained, was a dangerous one. Sure, Darius could learn healing spells from Andiel, who was a capable healer, but he also had to learn how to fight. How to kill...

Darius's stomach twisted at the thought. Andiel had told him that he, as a demon, would get the strength of all those he killed. That was all well and good, but what did that mean for the little demon boy? Should he start killing? He didn't want to. Yet, Andiel had informed him that if he wanted to be a hero, he needed to be able to protect the weak. 

The demon boy didn't know if he wanted to be a hero, really. If heroes were so great, how come it had been Andiel that took him off the streets? Surely, a hero should have rescued Darius back when he used to be known as Beggar? No hero had come, and that made a small, single thought come into his mind. 

There were no heroes. There were bounty hunters that saved people, when they were paid. That was all there was to it. Andiel was wrong, when he told him that he could be a hero. How could Darius be something that he knew didn't exist? Still, he felt like he owed the elf. Darius made a silent vow to himself that he would do his best to be as upstanding as he could be. To help those around him, even if they couldn't pay. 

"One day," the boy murmured to himself, as he finally found the kitchen. "I will be strong. So strong, that I would be able to protect everyone around me. My name will be known. No one will remember who I was, before Andy took me in!" 

With that vow, Darius felt his chest becoming lighter. He went to the cupboards, and rummaged in them. Taking out a paper bag with bread, he looked to the frozen cupboard for some meat and cheese. Dragging up the memory of the great-looking sandwich from his mind, he arranged the meat and cheese between the bread, and looked at the oven. 

Should he use it to heat up the sandwiches? How does one even start such a thing? He heard a chuckle from the corridor, and looked in the direction of the door, where Andy waited. 

"You wanted to bring me breakfast in bed?" The elf asked, and Darius nodded. 

"Yes. And after, I wanted for you to tell me a story," the demon's tail began to wag in excitement. Surely, fathers told their son stories? Beth had told him stories all the time, and he had thought that she would have made a great mother. 

"Slow down, I need to check your legs first. Let me see these sandwiches," Andiel opened the topmost slice of bread and nodded. The cheese was on top of the meat. His son was a quick thinker. Placing the two sandwiches in the sandwich toaster, he poured some mana into the device, to make it work. 

Darius stared at the small red dot on the toaster, and nodded. 

"Now, before you try to use any of the appliances, you must first learn how to channel your mana," Andiel explained. "Least you break something. Leave the cooking to me, son." 

"But I want to help," Darius's tail sagged at his father's words. He was not useless. He didn't want for his new father to think of him as such. 

"And you will help by not getting injured. Now, while the sandwiches are cooking, let me check up on your legs," Andiel scooped up Darius, and carried him to the same sterile room as before. Then, he placed the child on the bed. 

"I don't feel burning in my legs anymore," Darius told the elf, who nodded. 

"As you shouldn't, really. Elfide paste works fast, which is why it is so uncomfortable," Andy told him, as he began to unwrap the boy's legs. Instead of the wreck he expected, Darius was faced with creamy skin. There was not a single blemish on his legs. Even some of the old scars he had were gone. 

"Andy, do you think you can put some of that paste on my torso?" Darius asked, as he looked at the elf. 

Andiel sucked in a breath. 

"Are you hurt there? Why didn't you tell me?" Darius blinked. He knew that Andy was a good man, but his worry was overwhelming, at times. 

"It is just that, I have old scars," Darius told the man, and Andiel rolled the boy's shirt and sucked in a breath, when he saw the old stab wound scars. 

"Who did this to you?" The elf's stormy expression made Darius afraid. Not for himself, but for Andiel. 

"It doesn't matter. They didn't catch me," the demon said, and closed his mouth. The Keepers were not someone that Andy could tackle. Besides, it had been Darius's fault, since he had been the one to interrupt whatever, they had been doing, that summer evening. 

"From now on, if someone comes at you with a knife, you will run," Andiel told Darius with a stern expression. "Until you are strong, your first job is to protect yourself." 

Darius nodded. He had figured that his father would say something like this. He gave the man a bright smile, when he took out another Elfide paste jar, this time for Darius's scars.