… of Home
Rias Gremory came to on hard, rough ground. Sitting up, she found herself on a highway. In the midst of complete darkness, she and the concrete around her were side-lit, showing a white line on the far edge near a gravel shoulder. She was parked near the center, her butt on a yellow line with paralleling dashes. Before she could get her bearings, her ears also picked up on the sound of tires rolling on pavement. She realized that the light was intensifying, and turned her head toward the source.
Two headlights obscured the vehicle coming right at her with their brightness.
Rias’s heart froze.
Before she could react, the lights moved left, illuminating more of the large shoulder on the side of the road. The sound of rubber rolling on pavement quickly changed to the crunch of wheels on gravel. The lights passed, the vehicle slowing to a halt only meters away from Rias, brake lights glowing red. Based on the outline from the headlights, it was a two-seater pick-up truck. Its sole occupant was silhouetted on the left hand side, but other than that, she couldn’t make out details in the darkness. In fact, now that Rias was no longer illuminated, the road around her, and the rest of the world, had turned surprisingly dark.
Rias quickly looked around for more traffic. Seeing nothing more than a few stationary overhead lights shining over farm lots nearly a half-kilometer in either direction, she felt a minor touch of relief. Not wasting time, Rias quickly got up and raced to the side of the road. She could still make out the white line in the feint light reflected off the road ahead by the truck’s lights.
The silhouette of the driver was clearly visible as he got out of his pick-up. Heart still racing, Rias was not in any mood to answer questions, especially when her mind raced with a dozen of her own. She decided to teleport out and let the event remain a mystery to the poor person that probably was just as frightened as she was about barely avoiding an accident.
Rias summoned a teleportation circle. Or, she tried to. But, it failed to manifest. Something felt fishy about what happened. However, she was out of time, and couldn’t focus on the details.
“Are you all right?”
Rias jumped, startled. The man’s tenor had a rich sound to it, like listening to a radio-host between songs. She could audibly hear the concern in his delivery. She could not understand why she was so jumpy. Was it because all of a minute had passed and her heart was still racing? Maybe it was how quietly he had approached that caught her by surprise.
But, then she caught on to another detail. He wasn’t speaking Japanese. She recognized the language, but couldn’t quite place it at this very instant. Still, it most likely meant she wasn’t in Japan, which would explain the failure to teleport.
Turning, Rias tried to smile, letting embarrassment seep into her voice. “I’m fine.”
Instantly, she realized that she had replied in Japanese, and not whatever language the pick-up driver spoke. Back-lit as he was, she couldn’t make out many details in the darkness, especially colors, which was also baffling. As a devil, she could see in darkness. Still she could see enough of his expression to catch the driver’s open confusion.
“Great,” he muttered, drawling the word out. His look of confusion softened, returning to open concern. “You don’t happen to speak a lick of English, do you?”
His delivery sounded more like a conclusion than a question. Rias was wracking her brains for the name of the language. At the same time, she also wondered why she hadn’t replied appropriately. As a devil, she was automatically fluent in all languages. Even so, her father had insisted she learn a few of the more common languages to actually understand them. With his reply, and that one word - English - all her classroom studies came back to her. But, while the lessons came back in a rush, her mouth was slow to form the words.
“Ingurisu,” she said, at first. “English,” Rias said again, getting the Japanese out of her dialect. “Yes! I speak English.”
The driver looked relieved.
“I’m fine,” she added. “I’m not hurt.”
One question came quickly to mind that would help her get home. Looking around at the eerie, abnormal darkness to emphasize the point, she asked, “Where am I?”
“You don’t remember how you got here?” he asked, puzzled.
“No, I don’t,” Rias answered honestly, shaking her head.
And, that was the truth. The last Rias remembered was embracing Issei Hyoudou, her prized pawn and bearer of the Red Dragon King’s Sacred Gear. It had been a tender moment in the office of the Occult Research Club at Kuoh Academy. He had said something about promising to take over, that everything would be different.
The pick-up driver studied Rias a moment. With a sudden smirk, he shrugged his shoulders and pointed back up the road behind Rias, the direction from which he had been driving. “The turn-off for Olin is up top the hill, there, at the light.”
Rias followed his gesture and spotted the one in question, next to a dilapidated billboard.
He threw a thumb over his shoulder. “This intersection, up here, will take you all the way to Monti, if you’re not going to Center Junction. And, Wyoming is a few miles down the road.”
Wyoming! That was the name of one of the United States of North America. Rias was in America, then. That helped narrow things down. Still, the air was too humid for Wyoming, as that state was closer to the arid desert lands.
“But,” he added, his ornery look turning a touch more serious, “I imagine that means jack to you, doesn’t it?”
Rias shook her head, confirming his conclusion.
The driver’s deflation was mild, but apparent. He slumped his shoulders ever so slightly, his eyes darting to one side in thought. Then he quirked his brow briefly, cocking his head with a shrug before adopting an ornery smirk again.
“Welcome to BFE-Iowa. We are smack dab in the heart of the Midwest of the United States of America. And! Judging by the language you spoke – I’m guessing Japanese? – you’re a long way from home.”
Rias had what she needed. Now, it was time to get away so she could work out a proper circle in private. Darting her eyes toward his truck, out into the dark, she pointed, pretending as if she noticed something. She put on as much faux alarm as she could when she said, “What was that?”
The driver turned to look.
Now was her chance. Preparing to fly up and away, she unfolded her wings – which didn’t come out! Alarmed, Rias reached behind her mid-back groping to find them. They weren’t merely numb or entangled, failing to respond like the magic circle.
They weren’t there at all!
“My wings!” she blurted involuntarily. In English.
The driver turned back to look at her. “Say that again?”
It was rare for Rias to panic, but the shock of the moment combined with racing questions was overwhelming. She froze, not knowing where to begin, or if she should be open in front of a stranger.
Her mind raced, and the details started to piece themselves together into a bigger picture. As a devil, she was supposed to have wings. Her wings were gone, as if they never existed. Her groping at her back revealed no scar tissue or stumps, as if she had been clipped. Nothing but smooth skin.
As a devil, she should have night vision, able to see details out to the horizon in even the pitchest black night. Yet, it was dark enough now that she couldn’t see more than what reflected from the running truck’s lights only meters away. Looking up, she only now noticed how bright the stars were, and how many.
As a devil she was fluent in all languages. But she could only rely now on what she had learned thanks to the insistence of her father. As a devil, she could channel energy and conduct magic. Was the failure to summon a circle due to her place on the earth? Or, was she also unable to channel energy?
Out of desperation, Rias raised a hand and tried to summon energy. Nothing happened. She didn’t even feel any power rush through her body.
Rias Gremory was human!
“My wings,” she said in a daze, while her mind worked. “They’re gone.”
“Yeah,” the driver said. “Looks like the only thing on ya’ is that school uniform. Were you at a party?”
The first question that came to mind, and kept coming back, was ‘How?’.
But, the implications were significant. As a human, she was powerless. Many could practice magic, but she couldn’t even feel power flow through her. Could she cast magic at all? She couldn’t expect to protect herself the way she was used to.
How did this happen?
She was far from home, with only the clothes she wore. That means she had no money, no immediate way to contact her family to get some. Without that, she was at the mercy of anyone around her for food, shelter, or travel.
Why did this happen?
Without magic, or even direct contact with her family, even if she met another denizen of the underworld, she had no way to back-up her pedigree. She had no evidence of who she had been. Without that, anyone might easily think she was crazy.
Who made this happen?
Shock slowly turned to dread. How would she get home? Could she get home?
“Tell you what,” the driver said after about a minute when she failed to answer his question. His voice snapped her into the present, forcing the questions to take a back seat in her mind. “Do you have someone you can call? My place is just up the road half a mile. You can use my phone. I can also give you a lift anywhere you need. Within reason.”
Like a swimmer drowning in turbulent water, the offer was a lifeline, one that Rias latched onto. The thoughts and questions ebbed and settled along with the shock and fear. Tears came to her eyes at the surge of gratitude she felt, and it was all she could do to not break into a sobbing fit.
“Yes,” she stammered. “Thank you! That would be great.”
This man, who she had tried to get away from, who had almost run her over, was now her rescuer. He was her savior, after a fashion. When he did a half-turn toward his truck, she got a slightly better view of him. The Calf-length cargo shorts and unbuttoned work shirt over a dark tee hid the fact he was overweight. It probably helped him that he was stocky and broad, a thick, strong-looking man. But, now Rias could see he had a gut and a butt. The night was still too dark to define proper colors where the reflected headlights didn’t touch. Yet, in the twilight, she saw open kindness on his square face.
Her rescuer made a lazy servile gesture toward his truck, indicating her ride awaited. Once Rias had taken a couple steps, he turned and started sauntering to his truck. They walked together, side-by-side, their feet crunching on gravel.
“By the way,” he said. “My name is Ben. Ben Parker.”
He offered her his right hand. His position near the road made it kind of awkward. Rias recognized the American custom of shaking hands as a form of greeting. Reaching around, she grabbed his hand, making sure her grip was firm, a part of the custom. He matched her firm grip. They shook once and let go.
“My name is Rias,” she said. “Rias Gremory.” Quietly she muttered, “Of the house of Gremory.” She meant it to be ironic, letting a smile touch her lips. But, grief threatened to overwhelm her, and she frowned while wrestling to keep her emotions in check.
Ben didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he said, “I’m a Cummings on my mom’s side.” Rias looked at him to see his ornery look had returned. “Derived from the Scottish Commyns, who war in line for the Scottish throne somewhere down the list. So, I guess that makes me partly royalty. Don’t know where Gremory is from.”
The completely off-the-wall remark caught Rias by surprise. His delivery, how apt it was as a reply, even though it really had nothing to do with anything, was just bizarre enough that it made her smile. Waving dismissively, she said, “That’s okay. Not many do.”
As an American vehicle, the passenger seat was on the right hand side of the truck. When Rias opened the door, she heard the radio playing a country RnB song. When she seated herself and closed the door, she picked out some of the lyrics. The tune sounded familiar. The line ‘there is a bad moon on the rise’ repeated often. However, the name of the song, nor the band playing it, never came to mind.
Ben buckled in, and Rias copied him.
He was about to put the truck in drive, but hesitated, pointing forward. “There she is.”
Rias looked ahead to see the moon, big and yellow, partially obscured by the horizon. As Ben started the truck forward, they sped up the road and crested a shallow hill, revealing the moon was full.
Stoically, Rias appreciated the irony of the moment. A song about a bad moon rising played at the moment she saw the moon. This happened on a night where she had been transported to a strange land, and transformed into a week, helpless human. Then, she was rescued. It was so contrived as to not be coincidence.
She could almost compare it to some eroge novels she had read. She cast a glance at Ben. Usually the rescuer and the rescued ended up in a relationship in such stories.
“Earlier today,” Ben continued, taking Rias’s mind out of the gutter, “That was a blood moon over the Holy Land; last in a tetrad. Each one of the four appeared on holy feast days inside the span of a year.”
Rias suddenly started to figure out the mechanics of her situation a little better. Her transformation and teleportation on the night of a blood moon was fitting, if puzzling. Her powers weren’t like a lycanthrope’s. She wasn’t generally subject to the ebb and tide caused by the phases of the moon. Yet, here she was. And, Ben had just offered a hint into his character.
“Holy Land?” she asked for clarification.
Ben’s eyes didn’t waver from the road. “Israel. In the Middle East.”
“Ah,” Rias replied. That’s what she had expected. While there were other holy lands, usually only the Jewish nation was given that open title. “Are you Jewish?”
“No. Christian. I happen to follow End-times prophecy stuff. You know, Book of Revelation, and things related.”
“I can’t say I’ve kept up on that kind of thing,” Rias said diplomatically. As a devil, she couldn’t even hear phrases from the Bible without feeling excruciating pain. So, she couldn’t begin to study the opposition. When it came to the bible, she was clueless.
“Well, this is a big sign,” Ben said. Rias could hear the enthusiasm creep into his voice. Each time there’s been a tetrad like this in history, something big has happened to Israel. That’s important because end-times prophecies deal almost exclusively with Israel. The Jews are his chosen people, after all.”
He glanced at her, his eyes twinkling in the moon and console light. “This year is going to be interesting. Heck, I was expecting something to happen today. More of a whisking away, departing this world to be with Jesus. I suppose having a beautiful girl dropped in my lap out of nowhere, instead, is just as eventful.”
He pointed ahead to the far side of the road. “We’re here.”
When Ben let off the gas, the truck started to slow. To the left, they passed a fancy farmstead backed by the dark silhouette of a fir tree wind brake. The trees were lit from behind by a neighboring house, one just out of sight behind the rising hill. They stopped and turned onto a short drive that led up that hill. At the crest, the drive leveled out, revealing a small farm lot ringed lightly by trees. The light was from the front door of a broad, single-story house. Behind it, across a mowed lawn, stood an old red barn. Off to her right, Rias caught the metallic glint from a cluster of silos beyond the trees.
A portion of the house was dedicated to a two-stall garage just to one side of the front door. The headlights of the pick-up lit up the doors in a yellowish light as Ben pulled up and parked the pick-up. Without a further word, he shut off the truck and got out.
Rias followed. She watched him reach into the bed of the truck and hoisted out a handful – in number – of plastic bags filled with groceries. If Rias had to guess, he was carrying at least twenty pounds altogether. That was in one hand. The other hand he carried a gallon of milk. He hefted the load with ease and turned toward the house.
“Would you like help with that?” Rias asked.
“Sure,” he said. “Could you get the door? It’s not locked.”
Rias moved to open the door. “Aren’t you concerned about thieves?” she asked.
“Out here? Not really. This is Iowa.”
Rias blinked, accepting the answer without comment.
Inside, a narrow hallway stretched into a large room, which appeared already lit, if dimly. The air was much drier and cooler, suggesting central air conditioning.
Ben kicked off his shoes into a small closet to the left of the entrance. He didn’t seem to have any slippers, instead sauntering down the hall in stocking feet. Rias glanced at the door on her right, presuming it led into the two-stall garage. She then turned her attention to carefully pulling her school shoes off, taking a moment to arrange them neatly on the closet floor. There would be no mistaking who wore what, but she was used to the extra effort.
At the end of the hall, the place opened up, reminding Rias of a flat, than a country house. The kitchen and living room were only separated by a railing, which connected to a central fireplace. On the farthermost wall were three doors that looked like they led into rooms. The two on either end of the wall were closed. Ben, laden as he was, strode up the couple of stairs on the far side of the fireplace, leading into the kitchen on the left, passing the middle room. That door was open, the faint light from the stove in the kitchen reflecting off a toilet and shower. Just off either end of the wall, attached to adjoining walls, were clear glass sliding doors leading out into the darkness outside.
After unlimbering his groceries on the kitchen table, Ben moved over to the stove, flicking a switch on the wall near the fridge. Lights over the table blinked on, brightening the kitchen, with new light spilling into the living room. The place was decorated in a lot of varnished wood. The only carpet appeared to be in the living room.
Ben pointed to the railing. “Phone’s on the shelf. I know smart phones are all the rage, anymore, but I, have yet to get one. Guess I’m a luddite that way. Don’t like being found by any- and everyone.” He started sorting and stowing his groceries. “I should be able to cover any kind of phone bill, even one or two to Japan. So, you don’t need to call collect. Hopefully you can get through. I’ve never tried calling overseas.”
Rias found built-in shelving on the railing. Among collections of audio-tapes and CDs, she found the phone. It was a cordless hand set sitting in a recharge station connected to a land-line.
Without hesitation, Rias picked up the hand unit. She tried to recall the Kuoh Academy line. Spotting a clock over the dark fireplace, she was it was close to ten PM, here. If she remembered rightly, it was around midday in Japan. She should be able to get a hold of someone. Now, if only she could remember the country prefix.
Her heart lifted at the thought of hearing a familiar voice.
“You could always try dialing zero to get the operator,” Ben added. “They can help you with the prefixes.”
The operator was a good call. Rias pressed '0' on the phone. After a couple seconds of ringing, a woman picked up on the other end.
“How may I direct your call?” the operator asked after delivering a scripted greeting.
“Yes,” Rias said. “I'd like to place a call to Kuoh Academy in Japan. I have the number and prefect code. I just can't remember the country prefix for Japan.”
The operator told Rias the number, which Rias committed to memory. Then, she added, “Give me the number and I can patch you through.”
“Thanks,” Rias said, then rattled off the number for the Academy's office.
The sound changed as the operator disconnected and switched the lines. But, instead of the sound of ringing, she got an error tone, followed by an automated message. Because it was Japan, the message played in Japanese. Rias listened to the cycle repeat in quiet shock.
“We're sorry. The number you have dialed is disconnected or no longer in service. If this is an error, please hang up and try again.”
Rias felt a pit starting to form in the bottom of her stomach. To calm herself, she hung up the phone and dialed the number herself. It was possible she misspoke, or the operator miskeyed. It was a long sequence of numbers. This time, she was sure she had it right.
Yet again, the disconnect message played.
Did something happen to the Academy? The pit in her stomach grew with increasing dread. But, she couldn't give up. Not yet! Rias had a couple other numbers direct to people she trusted. She decided to give those a try.
First, she tried the student council president's home. As a fellow devil enrolled at the Academy, they had an amicable working relationship. She might even have some info on who made this all happen.
The same disconnect message played.
Rias knew she hadn't miskeyed that number. So, she moved on, dialing Issei's house. He may not know what to do, but he could find someone who could.
Again, disconnected!
That last one hit hard. To think that the love of her life was out of reach was not just terrifying, but heart-breaking. Rias barely reigned in her emotions, blinking away precursor tears and inhaling deeply to steady her shaking hands. She had one last number to try. Surely she could get a hold of her brother in the underworld.
Fingers still shaky, Rias pressed each digit with care, listening to each tone to be sure she didn't overpress. Visually, she confirmed each number on the handset's digital display. In haling one more time to steady herself, Rias pressed the call button and held the handset to her ear.
The recorded message was different, but it was practically the same. A robotic male voice stated in American English, “The number you have dialed is incorrect. Hang up, and please try again.”
The tears started rolling, unbidden, blurring Rias’s vision. Quietly, carefully, she blindly placed the phone in its cradle. Navigating through the blur on wobbly legs, she collapsed on the nearby couch, leaning against the arm for support.
People she cared about were out of reach. Everything and everyone Rias knew from the life she came from didn’t seam to exist. She was truly lost, and practically alone. The thought that grieved her most, to the point her heart actually ached, was the notion she might never see them again. Not her brother. Not her family. Not Issei.
Rias whimpered. Putting a heand to her mouth, she tried to mask any sobs, while rivers poured from her eyes, soaking her cheeks. To keep the sobbing to a minimum, she focused on her breathing.
In spite of her best efforts, Ben noticed. She felt his shadow darken the living room. Stiffening, Rias held her pose, unable to bring herself to look at him.
“No luck, I take it,” he said, voicing a conclusion.
Rias knew she had to answer. She didn't want to, knowing that she couldn't expect to keep a straight voice if she tried. For a few seconds, she hunkered down in the sofa's cushions. But, obligation to her host won out over pride, and she answered. She had to squeeze her breath through her throat, powering past the urge to sob. The final result was part croak, part wail.
“No.” Then she inhaled, her breath stuttering audibly like two rapid hiccups back-to-back. “I don't know what to do,” she whimpered.
Rias could feel Ben's gaze on her. She could tell that he wanted to do something to help. That kindness, ray of hope that it was, made her finally sob uncontrollably. She began to cry in earnest, but refused to wail like she'd seen from others, instead, keeping quiet, the sobs only coming and going with each breath.
Ben, oddly, thankfully, kept his distance. “I see,” he said, his shadow disappearing, moving back into the kitchen. “We can talk when you feel up for it.”
Hours seemed to pass before her tear ducts had dried out and left dried stains on her cheeks.
The truth was that it had only been maybe fifteen minutes. She knew this because while Ben rattled around the kitchen, he had put on some music. It was an interesting playlist. The first song had been a hyper, if melancholic tune about the end of the world but 'feeling fine'. The next tune was softer, more sorrowful, its lyrics talking about being sojourners, aliens, ready to leave a strange land. Those song messages, though she barely noted it, seemed to match her plight, which Rias found oddly comforting.
The current tune was purely instrumental, though it had to be electronic. The voices sounded artificial, synthesized, as they tried to weave a sardonic melody. Those mixed with a flute and harp, making for a very sad tune, which matched her mood. The music choice was rather insightful on Ben's part.
Rias had picked up a pillow to hug and cry into only a few minutes into her grieving. She still kept her face pressed to the cloth, even though she was practically done crying. She felt drained, emotionally as well as physically. Wanting to zone out a few minutes more, she didn't dwell on any thought for long.
Something small and soft pressed against her shin. Lifting up her head, Rias looked down at a black statue staring up at her with golden feline eyes. The white spot on the cat's chest glowed in the soft light thrown from the kitchen. It didn't budge, its stare focused on her intently.
She immediately felt her heart warm to the cute animal. This one sat on his haunches regally, not so cute, but seemingly friendly.
“Awe,” she cooed. “Who are you?”
“That's Noir,” Ben called from the kitchen. “He's my dad's old cat. Inherited him along with the place. Is he staring at you?”
Rias smiled at the black cat who was named 'Black' in French. “Yes,” she called.
“That's usually his way of asking permission to join you.”
Sitting up, Rias patted the couch, saying, “Come on. It's okay.”
With the invitation, Noir stood and walked to the edge of the couch by her knee. He looked over the edge of the cushion. Rias could see his facial expressions as the cat deliberated. At first, he appeared to question if he could make it. He even stood up on his haunches a couple times, taking in the area. A determined look came over Noir just before he committed to the jump. Rias heard his hind claws dig into the cloth a the end. He barely made it up.
Looking into her eyes, he stepped stiffly up to her, reached out, and touched her on the thigh with a forepaw. Sitting back regally, he stared hard at her. His intense gaze radiated the question, “May I?”
“It's okay,” Rias said, patting her lap.
On cue, Noir stood. Gently, he walked onto her lap and settled down, slowly, stiff. Rias petted him, noting his dark ears were bald. She didn't hear his purr, but felt it through her lap and with each caress. Noir was, indeed, an old cat.
“What stories do you have to tell, I wonder?” she muttered.
Rias relaxed with Noir on her lap, enjoying his unmoving company. Then an enticing aroma wafted out of the kitchen. Was that cocoa? Her stomach rumbled.
She listened to the activity on the other side of the chimney, tuning out the music. The sound of the bottom of a pan being scraped brought to mind contents in the pan pouring into a dish. Shortly after that, water from the sink faucet ran for a few minutes amidst the din of pan and utensils being cleaned.
Ben appeared at the stairs leading down into the living room. “I know it's really late, but I imagine you might be hungry.”
“Yes,” Rias said, her voice clear. “Thank you.”
She started to move, but hesitated. While she wanted to eat, she didn't want to disturb the cat.
“Just set him aside. He'll understand,” Ben suggested.
Rias did.
Noir voiced a shaky, old-cat complaint, but otherwise didn't fuss or growl.
It was then that she noticed the make-up stains on the pillow. “Oh, no. Your pillow. I'm sorry.”
Ben waived dismissively. “It can be washed.” He turned and walked back into the kitchen, gesturing at the bathroom as he went. “There's a mirror and sink in the bathroom. You might want to wash up, first.”
Looking into the mirror, Rias found what she had expected. She had emptied her tear glands onto her face and into Ben's couch pillow. All of her facial make-up had watery streaks, making her look like a ghost out of horror series.
“Is there a specific cloth I should use?” she called.
“Pick any one you want off the shelf,” Ben replied.
The shelf was open, with plenty of wash clothes and towels to choose from. There was a variety of colors on display, but not a white one to be found.
Once Rias had finished cleaning her face, she stepped out into the kitchen. Ben stood next to the counter that connected the fridge to the stove. More countertop extended along to the outer wall, where it wrapped around to end at the sink, next to the silding door to the outside. On the corner counter sat three bowls.
“You're not lactose intolerant, I hope,” Ben said. “This chocolate pudding uses a lot of milk. Supposedly, people from Asia have a reputation for being sensitive to dairy.”
“Chocolate pudding?” Rias muttered, excited. To his question, she said, “Honestly, I don't know.”
Ben inhaled. “Alright, then. I wasn't sure what the case was. I also don't know what kind of portion sizes you're used to either. So, I split it into three servings. I've found that seems to be just about right.” He gestured. “Have a seat.”
As she pulled out a chair and sat, he brought a bowl over to Rias along with a spoon. Then, he fished a couple tall glasses from the overhead cupboard by the fridge and set them on the round table. From the fridge, he grabbed the gallon of milk and filled each glass before returning the jug to the fridge's cold interior.
“It's skim,” Ben said with a gesture. “So, if you do have any problems, it shouldn't be as bad as if it were whole.” He grabbed a bowl for himself and sat down across from Rias. “But, I can't think of a better way to wash this down.”
Before he dove in, Ben gestured to the bowl, then to the ceiling. “Thank you, Lord Jesus, for this snack.”
Rias braced herself, but the pain she would have felt as a devil in the presence of praise to God never came. She marvelled a moment, both at the lack of pain, and at Ben's rather casual prayer, if one could call it that.
“You don't have to wait for me,” he said after noting her hesitation.
“Aren't you going to bless the food?” Rias asked, puzzled.
“Why would I need to do that?”
Rias shrugged.
Ben smirked. “Jesus and his angels already watch over me. He's already provided the ingredients. What have I to fear?”
With that, he scooped out a spoonful of pudding and put it in his mouth.
Rias looked at her own bowl.
His comment about God and angels reminded her about her own past, and the truth of her world. She refrained from commenting about God. This wasn't the time to announce that God was dead. With her current situation, it was entirely possible that what was true for her might not be true for him.
Now that she had time to come to terms, most of the details pointed to the fact that she might be in another world.
“Thanks, God, for the food,” she said, pausing again to marvel at no sudden pain.
Then she inserted pure, rich, chocolaty bliss into her mouth. It was smooth, warm, not too sweet, but not bland. She reached the bottom of the bowl and wanted more. But, it was very rich. Rias knew that she might actually get sick if she tried even one more spoonful out of the other bowl. Washing it down with skim milk, to her surprise, actually cleared any aftertaste that lingered at the back of her throat.
“Where did you learn to make this?” she asked when finished.
“Grandma's recipe,” Ben said while taking the used dishes to the sink. “It's also good chilled.” He wasted no time washing out the glasses and bowls by hand. While working, he asked, “You allergic to peanuts?”
“Not that I'm aware,” Rias replied.
“Next time, I'll mix in some peanut butter.”
Rias smiled contemplating the flavor of peanut butter and chocolate.
After washing the dishes and putting them in the drainer next to the sink, Ben put the third bowl in the fridge.
“You can have that, later, if you want,” he said, then took his seat.
For the first time, Rias truly studied Ben's face. He had typically Caucasian square features. His hairline centered on a tiny little widow's peak high on his forehead. Cropped as short as it was, his hair had a hint of wave to it along the front, where it was longest. Streaks of gold, from sun-bleaching, glinted amid the dominant sandy brown. Even with the weight rounding his neck below the chin, Rias thought he was a handsome enough man.
With the better lighting, the gray dappling his blue eyes was much more distinct. Ben didn't look at her directly, but Rias could still feel his intense focus. His gaze was merely in her direction, like at the table in front of her, or off to one side by her shoulder.
“So,” He said, “you didn't get through.” He flicked a glimpse directly into her eyes.
“No,” Rias answered.
“Was nobody there?” he asked casually. “Do you need to try again?”
“That's not it,” she said. “It's midday in Japan, right now. Someone should be there.” As the moment of truth slowly approached, Rias felt a tightening in her chest. Anticipation and anxiety threatened her composure. But, she pressed on. “No. The numbers were disconnected. All of them. Every single one.”
Ben continued to stare at the table, looking thoughtful. He nodded. “I thought I heard the disconnect tone.”
Rias hesitated, impressed. Ben had been busy at the time, making noise. For him to hear that meant he had some sharp hearing.
“And, I take it you didn't misdial,” he added.
Rias was, again, impressed. Ben was obviously intelligent and showed signs of understanding her situation already. She puzzled at why he had started with the question he did if he was this far along in his conclusions. She started to feel a little less anxious.
“No,” Rias said, affirming his thought. “I know those numbers by heart. They should have worked. It's like they don't exist.”
Her voice caught, sorrow welling in her chest, threatening a new round of crying. Taking a breath to steady herself, it didn't take much to regain composure this time.
“If you want, I can take you to the police station,” Ben offered. “Maybe the authorities might have better luck getting you home. It'd have to be in the morning, though.”
Anxiety returned at the thought of being put into the hands of yet more strangers. While Ben was also a stranger, he had been kind and understanding, thus far. Rias had no idea what would happen once she got embroiled in a bureaucratic system. Her fate would depend a great deal on how hidebound the people were that got assigned her case. She knew a thing or two about bureaucracies, and that was a nightmare she wanted to avoid. Especially if it turned out she didn't rightfully exist in their system.
“I don't think anyone can help me,” Rias muttered, sad.
“Why is that?” Ben asked, remaining casual.
Rias sighed. Moment of truth. “Not only am I not in Japan, I don't think I'm on my own Earth.”
Ben looked into her eyes again, but it lingered for a few seconds. “You figure this from the phone numbers?”
“It's more than that,” Rias explained. The anxiety and anticipation tightened her chest again, making her voice shaky, at first. But, once the words poured out, she committed, firming her delivery. “See, I'm not human. Or, I wasn't before I ended up here. I'm a devil. At least, I was. I am Rias Gremory, of the Gremory household in the underworld. My father holds the title of Satan.”
“Title,” Ben muttered, quirking a brow. He had resumed looking at the table.
“Of course, I have no proof of any of this,” Rias concluded. “The number to Kuoh Academy, where I'm enrolled as an exchange student, doesn't work. Neither do the numbers to friends and colleagues who know me. And, one of those was to my brother in the underworld.”
Ben smirked, muttering, “a hotline to hell.”
“And, I no longer have any of the traits I would normally have as a devil. No powers.”
“No wings,” Ben added.
Rias paused, hopeful. “You believe me?”
Between the anxiety and anticipation, her breathing turned shallow as she waited for his answer.
After a second of carefully studying the table, deep in thought, Ben's eyebrows shot up briefly, and he shrugged. “I do.”
Even though he didn't look directly at her, Rias could tell his response was genuine.
“How?” she started to ask, but trailed off. Part of her wanted to know his reasoning. Prudence suggested that it might be unwise to critique the decision of a stranger, one whose help and support she desperately needed. Rias hoped Ben had a solid reason and wasn't blindly accepting her story.
“It has the ring of truth to it,” Ben replied with a quick glance in her eyes. “For Christians, the Holy Spirit helps us discern between truth and lies, good and evil. When we're paying attention. Your story didn't raise any red flags.”
He adopted a light smile. “Then, there's the fact you really did appear out of nowhere on the highway. One moment, the road was clear. The next,” he snapped his fingers, “there you were, already laid out.”
“Oh,” was all Rias could say while she processed that information.
“There's no doubt in my mind that this isn't a coincidence. Here you are, on the night of a blood moon, at the end of a tetrad.” Ben said. He shook his head slightly and smirked. “It'll still take some getting used to. Stuff like this only seems to happen in fiction. It's one thing to see it in a love or horror story. It's another to actually live it.”
“Tell me about it,” Rias muttered.
“Well,” Ben said, sounding more lively. “I'll pray for confirmation. And, I'll pray God gets you back home after you do whatever you're here to do.” He stood. “In the meantime, it's getting late. You obviously need a place to stay. Come with me.”
He didn't lead her far. The door was next to the entrance hall, leading to a room behind the fridge and stove. Ben flicked on the light, revealing a sparsely furnished bedroom with yet another set of sliding doors leading out next to the driveway.
“This was my dad's master bedroom when he had the place,” Ben said. He moved around the bed to what Rias thought was a closet. Opening the door, he gestured for Rias to have a look. “I use it as a guest bedroom, now, because it has a private bathroom.”
He got out of her way, allowing her to inspect the facilities.
“I don't know what you're generally used to, but, it'll have to do. Towels are in the cupboard on the right.” Ben walked back to the door and paused. “We'll see about getting you some clothes tomorrow.” He looked like he wanted to say more. Whatever it was, he appeared to decide against it. “Would you like me to close the door behind me?”
“Yes, please,” Rias said. “And! Thank you.”
Ben smirked pleasantly. “No problem. Good night.”
With that, he closed the bedroom door, leaving Rias on her own.
The shower was nice. It felt refreshing to wash the grime of the day down the drain, even if it was probably just from the last half-hour. Once she was dry, Rias felt tired enough to lie down. However, she looked at her school uniform, specifically her undergarments. She generally preferred sleeping in the nude, so donning them again wasn't an issue. But, the idea of putting the back on, used, repulsed her, even when it would be as late as tomorrow morning. Rias was not about to run around commando, even for a few brief hours.
She could rinse and wash them by hand in the sink, hanging them to dry overnight. Or, she could suck up her pride and ask to use Ben's washing machine and drier. Hopefully he had those appliances. Of the two possible options, the idea of soap and cleanliness put her decision firmly in favor of the washing machine.
Wrapping herself in a towel, she gathered up her clothes and went to the door. She hesitated, hit with the sudden thought of him creepily waiting on the other side. Normally, in the same way Ben described Christian discernment, devils had an evil sense. Rias wasn't sure she still had that.
Even without it, she thought herself a generally good judge of character. During their conversation, nothing about Ben suggested he was evil, or merely a pervy creeper. When he was only looking in her general direction, not once did he glance at one of her prominent features.
Rias was aware that she was a beautiful girl by most standards. She was amply endowed, which was hard for most men not to notice. What this meant of Ben, the fact he managed to avert his gaze away from her bosom the whole time, she didn't know.
He was either shy, or very respectful and well disciplined. Maybe both. Was it a matter of taste? He wasn't stiff, talking with her easily. He didn't seem repulsed. So, he was odd, but not creepy.
Regardless, Rias quietly turned the door handle and peered out through a sliver opening. To her relief, she saw Ben on the couch watching television, the living room lit softly be a lamp behind the TV set. He chuckled at a joke, echoing audience laughter from the show.
Opening the door further, she called out, “Ben? Do you have a washing machine? I'd like to wash my clothes.”
“Sure. That closet right in front of you, next to the door.”
Rias noted the folding doors to her left, along the wall between the bedroom door and the fridge. They looked like typical closet doors with latted slits. Pulling one open, she saw the drier. The other door revealed the washer and hot water heater.
“Do you need me to show you how it works?” he asked.
Rias was about to say 'no'. His washer looked like any other classic top-loader she had seen, just in English. But, she suddenly had a devilish inclination. Rias wanted to see just how much of a perv Ben might actually be. Suppressing a mischievous smile, she answered as casually as she could, “Yeah. That sounds like a good idea.”
“Really?” Ben muttered, sounding surprised. Standing, he worked his way around the fireplace, up the stairs, over to the appliance closet. She spotted his cursory glance, giving her a quick once-over.
That was all she got.
He turned his focus on the washer, explaining the controls. Reaching overhead, he pulled down a purple bottle of laundry soap. He poured out only a tablespoon into the yellow cap.
“With such a small load, you'll only need about that much,” he concluded.
With a simple gesture, he indicated Rias deposit her clothes in the washer. She complied robotically, her mind still trying to make out what was happening. Ben was unreadable. No stammer. No tripping. No blushing. No cleared throat.
He simply poured the soap in onto her clothes, screwed the cap back onto the bottle before depositing it on the overhead shelf. Then he closed the washer and started it up. As soon as the sound of pouring water started, he turned away to head back to the living room.
“If you want,” he said, “I'll make sure they get put into the drier. Wash time's only half an hour.”
“Okay,” Rias agreed, absently. She quickly decided to be direct. “Y'know. Most boys I know would be tripping over themselves and stammering, being so close to a nearly naked girl like myself.”
Ben paused, turning to look back. His eyes didn't come near her, though, focusing instead on the closet next to her. She could tell he was deep in thought. Finally, he flash-quirked a brow.
“Good night, young Miss Gremory.”
Rias latched onto that detail. “I can't be much younger than you. You're in your twenties, right?”
Ben smirked goodnaturedly. “I'm flattered you think I look that good. But, I'll be thirty-five this December. I'm guessing you're almost half my age. Sixteen? Seventeen? So, I supposed I'm almost old enough to be your father. Especially if I had gotten busy in high school.”
“Oh,” Rias muttered.
“Look. The answer you're looking for is difficult for me to explain without some introspection. It all boils down to one thing. I try not to think about it, or dwell on it. There's more to it than that, but that's for another time. So, good night.”
“Actually, I'm eighteen,” Rias said, trying just a little harder. “I do believe that makes me legal in the U.S.”
“Good night, Miss Gremory.”
“Good night,” Rias echoed, smiling as she gave in to defeat.
Gracefully, she retreated into the guest bedroom, closing the door behind her.
Rias had a hard time getting to sleep. Her mind was over active, at first working at the mystery of Ben. He was single and in his mid-thirties. The ease with which he maintained composure around her near nudity spoke of experiences. She could only guess at how many and what kind. She amused herself with some ideas, but, she soon grew bored, and finally dozed off.
She quickly woke to some random noise from outside. More than once. Being in a foreign room exacerbated her unease, along with her missing wings. Then there was the missing presence of Issei. She had grown accustomed to sleeping by his side, sometimes joined by others of her household.
“Issei,” she murmured, “where are you?”
This room felt abnormally cold without them. Part of that could also have been the air conditioning. Ben seemed to prefer things a little cold. Once she pulled a thin sheet over herself, she started to feel comfortable. Eventually, she did doze off into a deep slumber.
It was still dark out when Rias woke one more time. This time, a dream, about her friends from the Kuoh Academy's Occult Research Club. Issei, Kiba, Akeno, all of them were in the dream. She couldn't recall where they were, the background a swirling morass of colors. All she knew was that they were calling out to her. As Rias tried to recall their words, they all slipped away the more she grew awake.
As she stared at the ceiling, she was left with only a couple phrases, from Akeno. “Rias has got to come! We’ll see her. No doubt!” And, later, “Rias! Is that really you?”
Not knowing what it meant specifically, it still gave Rias hope. They were looking for her.
“Careful,” she warned herself. “It could all be in your head, Rias Gremory, manifesting your subconscious desires.”
She ran what she could over and over in her mind until she finally fell back asleep.
The sun was shining bright when Rias woke. Sitting up, she looked for the clock. It wasn't where Issei normally kept it. When she did find it, it didn't look right. When she noted the time, Rias came fully awake in alarm.
It was ten AM! She was woefully late! Flinging the sheet off her, she was quickly on her feet. Then, Rias noticed the room details. The events of the night came back to her, and she realized there would be no school for her today.
Peaking out the bedroom door, Rias saw Ben in the living room, occupied with the television, again. She wondered if he had slept at all, last night. The smell of eggs and bacon hit her nose. It smelled good. He had made breakfast and she couldn't wait to try it.
Looking to the washing machine and drier, Rias spotted her school uniform, neatly folded up on the drier. It was within arm's reach of the door. Quickly and quietly, Rias slid the door open enough to grab the garments, then closed the door behind her. She didn't believe Ben had noticed.
Her clothes were dry. They didn't smell flowery. They didn't smell at all. And, they felt clean. After slipping on all but the jacket, she went out into the kitchen.
This time, Ben did notice, but Rias hadn't been trying to be stealthy.
“Breakfast is on the counter,” he said. “I hope you're not a vegetarian or something like that.”
Rias found a plate covered over by a skillet lid. Lifting the cover, a cloud of steam wafted up to reveal a fairly large helping or scrambled eggs and a quartet of bacon strips. They looked as good as they smelled. Picking up the plate and the fork next to it, she went to the table.
“I think I'll be fine,” she said.
Taking a bite of the eggs, she found them already lightly salted. They had some leafy spices sprinkled in, and the hint of some other flavor she couldn't identify. A couple of the bacon slices were crisp, while the other two were soft. Both were not too salty, and a touch greasy, but still tasty. It was all good, and before Rias knew, her plate was as clean as a mere fork would allow.
She thought she understood why he was overweight.
“The man can cook,” she muttered.
When she stood, Ben called out, “Just rinse your dishes and leave them in the sink. I'll take care of them in a bit.”
Quietly complying, Rias still felt a little embarrassed seeing that hers were the only dishes in the sink. But, he obviously had a method, and it would be prudent not to mess with that.
She joined him in the living room, seating herself in the only stuffed chair. “What do you put in your eggs?” She asked.
Ben turned off the morning news from his spot on the couch by remote. “Chives, cilantro, garlic, and a little salt,” he listed off slowly.
“Garlic,” Rias echoed. “That's what I tasted.”
“What? Was it too much?” Ben asked.
Rias waved, placating. “Oh, no. I just couldn't place it.”
Ben nodded, accepting her answer. “So, down to business. I have to head out on a job, tomorrow, and I'll be gone for four days. In spite of the circumstances, I can't back out.”
Rias felt her heart skip a beat. Questions immediately flooded her mind about where she would stay, what she would do if a problem came up, and so on.
“What do you do?” she asked.
Ben smirked. “I'm in logistics.” When Rias failed to get it, he added, “I drive truck. Semi?”
She nodded once she understood.
“Anyway,” he continued, “we need to figure out what to do with you. You could stay here, but I don't like that. We are very remote. If anything were to happen, you'd be practically on your own. We'd also have to make some introductions to some of my family and friends so they wouldn't be confused if I left you their numbers.”
He shrugged, not committed to the idea. “You could always stay at my mom's. I have to take Noir there, anyway.” He stroked the old cat, which lay up against his thigh, but not on his lap.
“Or, there's one final option. You can be a ride-along. I'm running the route solo, anyway, so there'll be room, and I'm sure they won't object.”
He looked directly into her eyes for a brief second. “I'm leaving this up to you. Which would you like to do?”
* * *
Two headlights obscured the vehicle coming right at her with their brightness.
Rias’s heart froze.
Before she could react, the lights moved left, illuminating more of the large shoulder on the side of the road. The sound of rubber rolling on pavement quickly changed to the crunch of wheels on gravel. The lights passed, the vehicle slowing to a halt only meters away from Rias, brake lights glowing red. Based on the outline from the headlights, it was a two-seater pick-up truck. Its sole occupant was silhouetted on the left hand side, but other than that, she couldn’t make out details in the darkness. In fact, now that Rias was no longer illuminated, the road around her, and the rest of the world, had turned surprisingly dark.
Rias quickly looked around for more traffic. Seeing nothing more than a few stationary overhead lights shining over farm lots nearly a half-kilometer in either direction, she felt a minor touch of relief. Not wasting time, Rias quickly got up and raced to the side of the road. She could still make out the white line in the feint light reflected off the road ahead by the truck’s lights.
The silhouette of the driver was clearly visible as he got out of his pick-up. Heart still racing, Rias was not in any mood to answer questions, especially when her mind raced with a dozen of her own. She decided to teleport out and let the event remain a mystery to the poor person that probably was just as frightened as she was about barely avoiding an accident.
Rias summoned a teleportation circle. Or, she tried to. But, it failed to manifest. Something felt fishy about what happened. However, she was out of time, and couldn’t focus on the details.
“Are you all right?”
Rias jumped, startled. The man’s tenor had a rich sound to it, like listening to a radio-host between songs. She could audibly hear the concern in his delivery. She could not understand why she was so jumpy. Was it because all of a minute had passed and her heart was still racing? Maybe it was how quietly he had approached that caught her by surprise.
But, then she caught on to another detail. He wasn’t speaking Japanese. She recognized the language, but couldn’t quite place it at this very instant. Still, it most likely meant she wasn’t in Japan, which would explain the failure to teleport.
Turning, Rias tried to smile, letting embarrassment seep into her voice. “I’m fine.”
Instantly, she realized that she had replied in Japanese, and not whatever language the pick-up driver spoke. Back-lit as he was, she couldn’t make out many details in the darkness, especially colors, which was also baffling. As a devil, she could see in darkness. Still she could see enough of his expression to catch the driver’s open confusion.
“Great,” he muttered, drawling the word out. His look of confusion softened, returning to open concern. “You don’t happen to speak a lick of English, do you?”
His delivery sounded more like a conclusion than a question. Rias was wracking her brains for the name of the language. At the same time, she also wondered why she hadn’t replied appropriately. As a devil, she was automatically fluent in all languages. Even so, her father had insisted she learn a few of the more common languages to actually understand them. With his reply, and that one word - English - all her classroom studies came back to her. But, while the lessons came back in a rush, her mouth was slow to form the words.
“Ingurisu,” she said, at first. “English,” Rias said again, getting the Japanese out of her dialect. “Yes! I speak English.”
The driver looked relieved.
“I’m fine,” she added. “I’m not hurt.”
One question came quickly to mind that would help her get home. Looking around at the eerie, abnormal darkness to emphasize the point, she asked, “Where am I?”
“You don’t remember how you got here?” he asked, puzzled.
“No, I don’t,” Rias answered honestly, shaking her head.
And, that was the truth. The last Rias remembered was embracing Issei Hyoudou, her prized pawn and bearer of the Red Dragon King’s Sacred Gear. It had been a tender moment in the office of the Occult Research Club at Kuoh Academy. He had said something about promising to take over, that everything would be different.
The pick-up driver studied Rias a moment. With a sudden smirk, he shrugged his shoulders and pointed back up the road behind Rias, the direction from which he had been driving. “The turn-off for Olin is up top the hill, there, at the light.”
Rias followed his gesture and spotted the one in question, next to a dilapidated billboard.
He threw a thumb over his shoulder. “This intersection, up here, will take you all the way to Monti, if you’re not going to Center Junction. And, Wyoming is a few miles down the road.”
Wyoming! That was the name of one of the United States of North America. Rias was in America, then. That helped narrow things down. Still, the air was too humid for Wyoming, as that state was closer to the arid desert lands.
“But,” he added, his ornery look turning a touch more serious, “I imagine that means jack to you, doesn’t it?”
Rias shook her head, confirming his conclusion.
The driver’s deflation was mild, but apparent. He slumped his shoulders ever so slightly, his eyes darting to one side in thought. Then he quirked his brow briefly, cocking his head with a shrug before adopting an ornery smirk again.
“Welcome to BFE-Iowa. We are smack dab in the heart of the Midwest of the United States of America. And! Judging by the language you spoke – I’m guessing Japanese? – you’re a long way from home.”
Rias had what she needed. Now, it was time to get away so she could work out a proper circle in private. Darting her eyes toward his truck, out into the dark, she pointed, pretending as if she noticed something. She put on as much faux alarm as she could when she said, “What was that?”
The driver turned to look.
Now was her chance. Preparing to fly up and away, she unfolded her wings – which didn’t come out! Alarmed, Rias reached behind her mid-back groping to find them. They weren’t merely numb or entangled, failing to respond like the magic circle.
They weren’t there at all!
“My wings!” she blurted involuntarily. In English.
The driver turned back to look at her. “Say that again?”
It was rare for Rias to panic, but the shock of the moment combined with racing questions was overwhelming. She froze, not knowing where to begin, or if she should be open in front of a stranger.
Her mind raced, and the details started to piece themselves together into a bigger picture. As a devil, she was supposed to have wings. Her wings were gone, as if they never existed. Her groping at her back revealed no scar tissue or stumps, as if she had been clipped. Nothing but smooth skin.
As a devil, she should have night vision, able to see details out to the horizon in even the pitchest black night. Yet, it was dark enough now that she couldn’t see more than what reflected from the running truck’s lights only meters away. Looking up, she only now noticed how bright the stars were, and how many.
As a devil she was fluent in all languages. But she could only rely now on what she had learned thanks to the insistence of her father. As a devil, she could channel energy and conduct magic. Was the failure to summon a circle due to her place on the earth? Or, was she also unable to channel energy?
Out of desperation, Rias raised a hand and tried to summon energy. Nothing happened. She didn’t even feel any power rush through her body.
Rias Gremory was human!
“My wings,” she said in a daze, while her mind worked. “They’re gone.”
“Yeah,” the driver said. “Looks like the only thing on ya’ is that school uniform. Were you at a party?”
The first question that came to mind, and kept coming back, was ‘How?’.
But, the implications were significant. As a human, she was powerless. Many could practice magic, but she couldn’t even feel power flow through her. Could she cast magic at all? She couldn’t expect to protect herself the way she was used to.
How did this happen?
She was far from home, with only the clothes she wore. That means she had no money, no immediate way to contact her family to get some. Without that, she was at the mercy of anyone around her for food, shelter, or travel.
Why did this happen?
Without magic, or even direct contact with her family, even if she met another denizen of the underworld, she had no way to back-up her pedigree. She had no evidence of who she had been. Without that, anyone might easily think she was crazy.
Who made this happen?
Shock slowly turned to dread. How would she get home? Could she get home?
“Tell you what,” the driver said after about a minute when she failed to answer his question. His voice snapped her into the present, forcing the questions to take a back seat in her mind. “Do you have someone you can call? My place is just up the road half a mile. You can use my phone. I can also give you a lift anywhere you need. Within reason.”
Like a swimmer drowning in turbulent water, the offer was a lifeline, one that Rias latched onto. The thoughts and questions ebbed and settled along with the shock and fear. Tears came to her eyes at the surge of gratitude she felt, and it was all she could do to not break into a sobbing fit.
“Yes,” she stammered. “Thank you! That would be great.”
This man, who she had tried to get away from, who had almost run her over, was now her rescuer. He was her savior, after a fashion. When he did a half-turn toward his truck, she got a slightly better view of him. The Calf-length cargo shorts and unbuttoned work shirt over a dark tee hid the fact he was overweight. It probably helped him that he was stocky and broad, a thick, strong-looking man. But, now Rias could see he had a gut and a butt. The night was still too dark to define proper colors where the reflected headlights didn’t touch. Yet, in the twilight, she saw open kindness on his square face.
Her rescuer made a lazy servile gesture toward his truck, indicating her ride awaited. Once Rias had taken a couple steps, he turned and started sauntering to his truck. They walked together, side-by-side, their feet crunching on gravel.
“By the way,” he said. “My name is Ben. Ben Parker.”
He offered her his right hand. His position near the road made it kind of awkward. Rias recognized the American custom of shaking hands as a form of greeting. Reaching around, she grabbed his hand, making sure her grip was firm, a part of the custom. He matched her firm grip. They shook once and let go.
“My name is Rias,” she said. “Rias Gremory.” Quietly she muttered, “Of the house of Gremory.” She meant it to be ironic, letting a smile touch her lips. But, grief threatened to overwhelm her, and she frowned while wrestling to keep her emotions in check.
Ben didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he said, “I’m a Cummings on my mom’s side.” Rias looked at him to see his ornery look had returned. “Derived from the Scottish Commyns, who war in line for the Scottish throne somewhere down the list. So, I guess that makes me partly royalty. Don’t know where Gremory is from.”
The completely off-the-wall remark caught Rias by surprise. His delivery, how apt it was as a reply, even though it really had nothing to do with anything, was just bizarre enough that it made her smile. Waving dismissively, she said, “That’s okay. Not many do.”
As an American vehicle, the passenger seat was on the right hand side of the truck. When Rias opened the door, she heard the radio playing a country RnB song. When she seated herself and closed the door, she picked out some of the lyrics. The tune sounded familiar. The line ‘there is a bad moon on the rise’ repeated often. However, the name of the song, nor the band playing it, never came to mind.
Ben buckled in, and Rias copied him.
He was about to put the truck in drive, but hesitated, pointing forward. “There she is.”
Rias looked ahead to see the moon, big and yellow, partially obscured by the horizon. As Ben started the truck forward, they sped up the road and crested a shallow hill, revealing the moon was full.
Stoically, Rias appreciated the irony of the moment. A song about a bad moon rising played at the moment she saw the moon. This happened on a night where she had been transported to a strange land, and transformed into a week, helpless human. Then, she was rescued. It was so contrived as to not be coincidence.
She could almost compare it to some eroge novels she had read. She cast a glance at Ben. Usually the rescuer and the rescued ended up in a relationship in such stories.
“Earlier today,” Ben continued, taking Rias’s mind out of the gutter, “That was a blood moon over the Holy Land; last in a tetrad. Each one of the four appeared on holy feast days inside the span of a year.”
Rias suddenly started to figure out the mechanics of her situation a little better. Her transformation and teleportation on the night of a blood moon was fitting, if puzzling. Her powers weren’t like a lycanthrope’s. She wasn’t generally subject to the ebb and tide caused by the phases of the moon. Yet, here she was. And, Ben had just offered a hint into his character.
“Holy Land?” she asked for clarification.
Ben’s eyes didn’t waver from the road. “Israel. In the Middle East.”
“Ah,” Rias replied. That’s what she had expected. While there were other holy lands, usually only the Jewish nation was given that open title. “Are you Jewish?”
“No. Christian. I happen to follow End-times prophecy stuff. You know, Book of Revelation, and things related.”
“I can’t say I’ve kept up on that kind of thing,” Rias said diplomatically. As a devil, she couldn’t even hear phrases from the Bible without feeling excruciating pain. So, she couldn’t begin to study the opposition. When it came to the bible, she was clueless.
“Well, this is a big sign,” Ben said. Rias could hear the enthusiasm creep into his voice. Each time there’s been a tetrad like this in history, something big has happened to Israel. That’s important because end-times prophecies deal almost exclusively with Israel. The Jews are his chosen people, after all.”
He glanced at her, his eyes twinkling in the moon and console light. “This year is going to be interesting. Heck, I was expecting something to happen today. More of a whisking away, departing this world to be with Jesus. I suppose having a beautiful girl dropped in my lap out of nowhere, instead, is just as eventful.”
He pointed ahead to the far side of the road. “We’re here.”
When Ben let off the gas, the truck started to slow. To the left, they passed a fancy farmstead backed by the dark silhouette of a fir tree wind brake. The trees were lit from behind by a neighboring house, one just out of sight behind the rising hill. They stopped and turned onto a short drive that led up that hill. At the crest, the drive leveled out, revealing a small farm lot ringed lightly by trees. The light was from the front door of a broad, single-story house. Behind it, across a mowed lawn, stood an old red barn. Off to her right, Rias caught the metallic glint from a cluster of silos beyond the trees.
A portion of the house was dedicated to a two-stall garage just to one side of the front door. The headlights of the pick-up lit up the doors in a yellowish light as Ben pulled up and parked the pick-up. Without a further word, he shut off the truck and got out.
Rias followed. She watched him reach into the bed of the truck and hoisted out a handful – in number – of plastic bags filled with groceries. If Rias had to guess, he was carrying at least twenty pounds altogether. That was in one hand. The other hand he carried a gallon of milk. He hefted the load with ease and turned toward the house.
“Would you like help with that?” Rias asked.
“Sure,” he said. “Could you get the door? It’s not locked.”
Rias moved to open the door. “Aren’t you concerned about thieves?” she asked.
“Out here? Not really. This is Iowa.”
Rias blinked, accepting the answer without comment.
Inside, a narrow hallway stretched into a large room, which appeared already lit, if dimly. The air was much drier and cooler, suggesting central air conditioning.
Ben kicked off his shoes into a small closet to the left of the entrance. He didn’t seem to have any slippers, instead sauntering down the hall in stocking feet. Rias glanced at the door on her right, presuming it led into the two-stall garage. She then turned her attention to carefully pulling her school shoes off, taking a moment to arrange them neatly on the closet floor. There would be no mistaking who wore what, but she was used to the extra effort.
At the end of the hall, the place opened up, reminding Rias of a flat, than a country house. The kitchen and living room were only separated by a railing, which connected to a central fireplace. On the farthermost wall were three doors that looked like they led into rooms. The two on either end of the wall were closed. Ben, laden as he was, strode up the couple of stairs on the far side of the fireplace, leading into the kitchen on the left, passing the middle room. That door was open, the faint light from the stove in the kitchen reflecting off a toilet and shower. Just off either end of the wall, attached to adjoining walls, were clear glass sliding doors leading out into the darkness outside.
After unlimbering his groceries on the kitchen table, Ben moved over to the stove, flicking a switch on the wall near the fridge. Lights over the table blinked on, brightening the kitchen, with new light spilling into the living room. The place was decorated in a lot of varnished wood. The only carpet appeared to be in the living room.
Ben pointed to the railing. “Phone’s on the shelf. I know smart phones are all the rage, anymore, but I, have yet to get one. Guess I’m a luddite that way. Don’t like being found by any- and everyone.” He started sorting and stowing his groceries. “I should be able to cover any kind of phone bill, even one or two to Japan. So, you don’t need to call collect. Hopefully you can get through. I’ve never tried calling overseas.”
Rias found built-in shelving on the railing. Among collections of audio-tapes and CDs, she found the phone. It was a cordless hand set sitting in a recharge station connected to a land-line.
Without hesitation, Rias picked up the hand unit. She tried to recall the Kuoh Academy line. Spotting a clock over the dark fireplace, she was it was close to ten PM, here. If she remembered rightly, it was around midday in Japan. She should be able to get a hold of someone. Now, if only she could remember the country prefix.
Her heart lifted at the thought of hearing a familiar voice.
“You could always try dialing zero to get the operator,” Ben added. “They can help you with the prefixes.”
The operator was a good call. Rias pressed '0' on the phone. After a couple seconds of ringing, a woman picked up on the other end.
“How may I direct your call?” the operator asked after delivering a scripted greeting.
“Yes,” Rias said. “I'd like to place a call to Kuoh Academy in Japan. I have the number and prefect code. I just can't remember the country prefix for Japan.”
The operator told Rias the number, which Rias committed to memory. Then, she added, “Give me the number and I can patch you through.”
“Thanks,” Rias said, then rattled off the number for the Academy's office.
The sound changed as the operator disconnected and switched the lines. But, instead of the sound of ringing, she got an error tone, followed by an automated message. Because it was Japan, the message played in Japanese. Rias listened to the cycle repeat in quiet shock.
“We're sorry. The number you have dialed is disconnected or no longer in service. If this is an error, please hang up and try again.”
Rias felt a pit starting to form in the bottom of her stomach. To calm herself, she hung up the phone and dialed the number herself. It was possible she misspoke, or the operator miskeyed. It was a long sequence of numbers. This time, she was sure she had it right.
Yet again, the disconnect message played.
Did something happen to the Academy? The pit in her stomach grew with increasing dread. But, she couldn't give up. Not yet! Rias had a couple other numbers direct to people she trusted. She decided to give those a try.
First, she tried the student council president's home. As a fellow devil enrolled at the Academy, they had an amicable working relationship. She might even have some info on who made this all happen.
The same disconnect message played.
Rias knew she hadn't miskeyed that number. So, she moved on, dialing Issei's house. He may not know what to do, but he could find someone who could.
Again, disconnected!
That last one hit hard. To think that the love of her life was out of reach was not just terrifying, but heart-breaking. Rias barely reigned in her emotions, blinking away precursor tears and inhaling deeply to steady her shaking hands. She had one last number to try. Surely she could get a hold of her brother in the underworld.
Fingers still shaky, Rias pressed each digit with care, listening to each tone to be sure she didn't overpress. Visually, she confirmed each number on the handset's digital display. In haling one more time to steady herself, Rias pressed the call button and held the handset to her ear.
The recorded message was different, but it was practically the same. A robotic male voice stated in American English, “The number you have dialed is incorrect. Hang up, and please try again.”
The tears started rolling, unbidden, blurring Rias’s vision. Quietly, carefully, she blindly placed the phone in its cradle. Navigating through the blur on wobbly legs, she collapsed on the nearby couch, leaning against the arm for support.
People she cared about were out of reach. Everything and everyone Rias knew from the life she came from didn’t seam to exist. She was truly lost, and practically alone. The thought that grieved her most, to the point her heart actually ached, was the notion she might never see them again. Not her brother. Not her family. Not Issei.
Rias whimpered. Putting a heand to her mouth, she tried to mask any sobs, while rivers poured from her eyes, soaking her cheeks. To keep the sobbing to a minimum, she focused on her breathing.
In spite of her best efforts, Ben noticed. She felt his shadow darken the living room. Stiffening, Rias held her pose, unable to bring herself to look at him.
“No luck, I take it,” he said, voicing a conclusion.
Rias knew she had to answer. She didn't want to, knowing that she couldn't expect to keep a straight voice if she tried. For a few seconds, she hunkered down in the sofa's cushions. But, obligation to her host won out over pride, and she answered. She had to squeeze her breath through her throat, powering past the urge to sob. The final result was part croak, part wail.
“No.” Then she inhaled, her breath stuttering audibly like two rapid hiccups back-to-back. “I don't know what to do,” she whimpered.
Rias could feel Ben's gaze on her. She could tell that he wanted to do something to help. That kindness, ray of hope that it was, made her finally sob uncontrollably. She began to cry in earnest, but refused to wail like she'd seen from others, instead, keeping quiet, the sobs only coming and going with each breath.
Ben, oddly, thankfully, kept his distance. “I see,” he said, his shadow disappearing, moving back into the kitchen. “We can talk when you feel up for it.”
Hours seemed to pass before her tear ducts had dried out and left dried stains on her cheeks.
The truth was that it had only been maybe fifteen minutes. She knew this because while Ben rattled around the kitchen, he had put on some music. It was an interesting playlist. The first song had been a hyper, if melancholic tune about the end of the world but 'feeling fine'. The next tune was softer, more sorrowful, its lyrics talking about being sojourners, aliens, ready to leave a strange land. Those song messages, though she barely noted it, seemed to match her plight, which Rias found oddly comforting.
The current tune was purely instrumental, though it had to be electronic. The voices sounded artificial, synthesized, as they tried to weave a sardonic melody. Those mixed with a flute and harp, making for a very sad tune, which matched her mood. The music choice was rather insightful on Ben's part.
Rias had picked up a pillow to hug and cry into only a few minutes into her grieving. She still kept her face pressed to the cloth, even though she was practically done crying. She felt drained, emotionally as well as physically. Wanting to zone out a few minutes more, she didn't dwell on any thought for long.
Something small and soft pressed against her shin. Lifting up her head, Rias looked down at a black statue staring up at her with golden feline eyes. The white spot on the cat's chest glowed in the soft light thrown from the kitchen. It didn't budge, its stare focused on her intently.
She immediately felt her heart warm to the cute animal. This one sat on his haunches regally, not so cute, but seemingly friendly.
“Awe,” she cooed. “Who are you?”
“That's Noir,” Ben called from the kitchen. “He's my dad's old cat. Inherited him along with the place. Is he staring at you?”
Rias smiled at the black cat who was named 'Black' in French. “Yes,” she called.
“That's usually his way of asking permission to join you.”
Sitting up, Rias patted the couch, saying, “Come on. It's okay.”
With the invitation, Noir stood and walked to the edge of the couch by her knee. He looked over the edge of the cushion. Rias could see his facial expressions as the cat deliberated. At first, he appeared to question if he could make it. He even stood up on his haunches a couple times, taking in the area. A determined look came over Noir just before he committed to the jump. Rias heard his hind claws dig into the cloth a the end. He barely made it up.
Looking into her eyes, he stepped stiffly up to her, reached out, and touched her on the thigh with a forepaw. Sitting back regally, he stared hard at her. His intense gaze radiated the question, “May I?”
“It's okay,” Rias said, patting her lap.
On cue, Noir stood. Gently, he walked onto her lap and settled down, slowly, stiff. Rias petted him, noting his dark ears were bald. She didn't hear his purr, but felt it through her lap and with each caress. Noir was, indeed, an old cat.
“What stories do you have to tell, I wonder?” she muttered.
Rias relaxed with Noir on her lap, enjoying his unmoving company. Then an enticing aroma wafted out of the kitchen. Was that cocoa? Her stomach rumbled.
She listened to the activity on the other side of the chimney, tuning out the music. The sound of the bottom of a pan being scraped brought to mind contents in the pan pouring into a dish. Shortly after that, water from the sink faucet ran for a few minutes amidst the din of pan and utensils being cleaned.
Ben appeared at the stairs leading down into the living room. “I know it's really late, but I imagine you might be hungry.”
“Yes,” Rias said, her voice clear. “Thank you.”
She started to move, but hesitated. While she wanted to eat, she didn't want to disturb the cat.
“Just set him aside. He'll understand,” Ben suggested.
Rias did.
Noir voiced a shaky, old-cat complaint, but otherwise didn't fuss or growl.
It was then that she noticed the make-up stains on the pillow. “Oh, no. Your pillow. I'm sorry.”
Ben waived dismissively. “It can be washed.” He turned and walked back into the kitchen, gesturing at the bathroom as he went. “There's a mirror and sink in the bathroom. You might want to wash up, first.”
Looking into the mirror, Rias found what she had expected. She had emptied her tear glands onto her face and into Ben's couch pillow. All of her facial make-up had watery streaks, making her look like a ghost out of horror series.
“Is there a specific cloth I should use?” she called.
“Pick any one you want off the shelf,” Ben replied.
The shelf was open, with plenty of wash clothes and towels to choose from. There was a variety of colors on display, but not a white one to be found.
Once Rias had finished cleaning her face, she stepped out into the kitchen. Ben stood next to the counter that connected the fridge to the stove. More countertop extended along to the outer wall, where it wrapped around to end at the sink, next to the silding door to the outside. On the corner counter sat three bowls.
“You're not lactose intolerant, I hope,” Ben said. “This chocolate pudding uses a lot of milk. Supposedly, people from Asia have a reputation for being sensitive to dairy.”
“Chocolate pudding?” Rias muttered, excited. To his question, she said, “Honestly, I don't know.”
Ben inhaled. “Alright, then. I wasn't sure what the case was. I also don't know what kind of portion sizes you're used to either. So, I split it into three servings. I've found that seems to be just about right.” He gestured. “Have a seat.”
As she pulled out a chair and sat, he brought a bowl over to Rias along with a spoon. Then, he fished a couple tall glasses from the overhead cupboard by the fridge and set them on the round table. From the fridge, he grabbed the gallon of milk and filled each glass before returning the jug to the fridge's cold interior.
“It's skim,” Ben said with a gesture. “So, if you do have any problems, it shouldn't be as bad as if it were whole.” He grabbed a bowl for himself and sat down across from Rias. “But, I can't think of a better way to wash this down.”
Before he dove in, Ben gestured to the bowl, then to the ceiling. “Thank you, Lord Jesus, for this snack.”
Rias braced herself, but the pain she would have felt as a devil in the presence of praise to God never came. She marvelled a moment, both at the lack of pain, and at Ben's rather casual prayer, if one could call it that.
“You don't have to wait for me,” he said after noting her hesitation.
“Aren't you going to bless the food?” Rias asked, puzzled.
“Why would I need to do that?”
Rias shrugged.
Ben smirked. “Jesus and his angels already watch over me. He's already provided the ingredients. What have I to fear?”
With that, he scooped out a spoonful of pudding and put it in his mouth.
Rias looked at her own bowl.
His comment about God and angels reminded her about her own past, and the truth of her world. She refrained from commenting about God. This wasn't the time to announce that God was dead. With her current situation, it was entirely possible that what was true for her might not be true for him.
Now that she had time to come to terms, most of the details pointed to the fact that she might be in another world.
“Thanks, God, for the food,” she said, pausing again to marvel at no sudden pain.
Then she inserted pure, rich, chocolaty bliss into her mouth. It was smooth, warm, not too sweet, but not bland. She reached the bottom of the bowl and wanted more. But, it was very rich. Rias knew that she might actually get sick if she tried even one more spoonful out of the other bowl. Washing it down with skim milk, to her surprise, actually cleared any aftertaste that lingered at the back of her throat.
“Where did you learn to make this?” she asked when finished.
“Grandma's recipe,” Ben said while taking the used dishes to the sink. “It's also good chilled.” He wasted no time washing out the glasses and bowls by hand. While working, he asked, “You allergic to peanuts?”
“Not that I'm aware,” Rias replied.
“Next time, I'll mix in some peanut butter.”
Rias smiled contemplating the flavor of peanut butter and chocolate.
After washing the dishes and putting them in the drainer next to the sink, Ben put the third bowl in the fridge.
“You can have that, later, if you want,” he said, then took his seat.
For the first time, Rias truly studied Ben's face. He had typically Caucasian square features. His hairline centered on a tiny little widow's peak high on his forehead. Cropped as short as it was, his hair had a hint of wave to it along the front, where it was longest. Streaks of gold, from sun-bleaching, glinted amid the dominant sandy brown. Even with the weight rounding his neck below the chin, Rias thought he was a handsome enough man.
With the better lighting, the gray dappling his blue eyes was much more distinct. Ben didn't look at her directly, but Rias could still feel his intense focus. His gaze was merely in her direction, like at the table in front of her, or off to one side by her shoulder.
“So,” He said, “you didn't get through.” He flicked a glimpse directly into her eyes.
“No,” Rias answered.
“Was nobody there?” he asked casually. “Do you need to try again?”
“That's not it,” she said. “It's midday in Japan, right now. Someone should be there.” As the moment of truth slowly approached, Rias felt a tightening in her chest. Anticipation and anxiety threatened her composure. But, she pressed on. “No. The numbers were disconnected. All of them. Every single one.”
Ben continued to stare at the table, looking thoughtful. He nodded. “I thought I heard the disconnect tone.”
Rias hesitated, impressed. Ben had been busy at the time, making noise. For him to hear that meant he had some sharp hearing.
“And, I take it you didn't misdial,” he added.
Rias was, again, impressed. Ben was obviously intelligent and showed signs of understanding her situation already. She puzzled at why he had started with the question he did if he was this far along in his conclusions. She started to feel a little less anxious.
“No,” Rias said, affirming his thought. “I know those numbers by heart. They should have worked. It's like they don't exist.”
Her voice caught, sorrow welling in her chest, threatening a new round of crying. Taking a breath to steady herself, it didn't take much to regain composure this time.
“If you want, I can take you to the police station,” Ben offered. “Maybe the authorities might have better luck getting you home. It'd have to be in the morning, though.”
Anxiety returned at the thought of being put into the hands of yet more strangers. While Ben was also a stranger, he had been kind and understanding, thus far. Rias had no idea what would happen once she got embroiled in a bureaucratic system. Her fate would depend a great deal on how hidebound the people were that got assigned her case. She knew a thing or two about bureaucracies, and that was a nightmare she wanted to avoid. Especially if it turned out she didn't rightfully exist in their system.
“I don't think anyone can help me,” Rias muttered, sad.
“Why is that?” Ben asked, remaining casual.
Rias sighed. Moment of truth. “Not only am I not in Japan, I don't think I'm on my own Earth.”
Ben looked into her eyes again, but it lingered for a few seconds. “You figure this from the phone numbers?”
“It's more than that,” Rias explained. The anxiety and anticipation tightened her chest again, making her voice shaky, at first. But, once the words poured out, she committed, firming her delivery. “See, I'm not human. Or, I wasn't before I ended up here. I'm a devil. At least, I was. I am Rias Gremory, of the Gremory household in the underworld. My father holds the title of Satan.”
“Title,” Ben muttered, quirking a brow. He had resumed looking at the table.
“Of course, I have no proof of any of this,” Rias concluded. “The number to Kuoh Academy, where I'm enrolled as an exchange student, doesn't work. Neither do the numbers to friends and colleagues who know me. And, one of those was to my brother in the underworld.”
Ben smirked, muttering, “a hotline to hell.”
“And, I no longer have any of the traits I would normally have as a devil. No powers.”
“No wings,” Ben added.
Rias paused, hopeful. “You believe me?”
Between the anxiety and anticipation, her breathing turned shallow as she waited for his answer.
After a second of carefully studying the table, deep in thought, Ben's eyebrows shot up briefly, and he shrugged. “I do.”
Even though he didn't look directly at her, Rias could tell his response was genuine.
“How?” she started to ask, but trailed off. Part of her wanted to know his reasoning. Prudence suggested that it might be unwise to critique the decision of a stranger, one whose help and support she desperately needed. Rias hoped Ben had a solid reason and wasn't blindly accepting her story.
“It has the ring of truth to it,” Ben replied with a quick glance in her eyes. “For Christians, the Holy Spirit helps us discern between truth and lies, good and evil. When we're paying attention. Your story didn't raise any red flags.”
He adopted a light smile. “Then, there's the fact you really did appear out of nowhere on the highway. One moment, the road was clear. The next,” he snapped his fingers, “there you were, already laid out.”
“Oh,” was all Rias could say while she processed that information.
“There's no doubt in my mind that this isn't a coincidence. Here you are, on the night of a blood moon, at the end of a tetrad.” Ben said. He shook his head slightly and smirked. “It'll still take some getting used to. Stuff like this only seems to happen in fiction. It's one thing to see it in a love or horror story. It's another to actually live it.”
“Tell me about it,” Rias muttered.
“Well,” Ben said, sounding more lively. “I'll pray for confirmation. And, I'll pray God gets you back home after you do whatever you're here to do.” He stood. “In the meantime, it's getting late. You obviously need a place to stay. Come with me.”
He didn't lead her far. The door was next to the entrance hall, leading to a room behind the fridge and stove. Ben flicked on the light, revealing a sparsely furnished bedroom with yet another set of sliding doors leading out next to the driveway.
“This was my dad's master bedroom when he had the place,” Ben said. He moved around the bed to what Rias thought was a closet. Opening the door, he gestured for Rias to have a look. “I use it as a guest bedroom, now, because it has a private bathroom.”
He got out of her way, allowing her to inspect the facilities.
“I don't know what you're generally used to, but, it'll have to do. Towels are in the cupboard on the right.” Ben walked back to the door and paused. “We'll see about getting you some clothes tomorrow.” He looked like he wanted to say more. Whatever it was, he appeared to decide against it. “Would you like me to close the door behind me?”
“Yes, please,” Rias said. “And! Thank you.”
Ben smirked pleasantly. “No problem. Good night.”
With that, he closed the bedroom door, leaving Rias on her own.
The shower was nice. It felt refreshing to wash the grime of the day down the drain, even if it was probably just from the last half-hour. Once she was dry, Rias felt tired enough to lie down. However, she looked at her school uniform, specifically her undergarments. She generally preferred sleeping in the nude, so donning them again wasn't an issue. But, the idea of putting the back on, used, repulsed her, even when it would be as late as tomorrow morning. Rias was not about to run around commando, even for a few brief hours.
She could rinse and wash them by hand in the sink, hanging them to dry overnight. Or, she could suck up her pride and ask to use Ben's washing machine and drier. Hopefully he had those appliances. Of the two possible options, the idea of soap and cleanliness put her decision firmly in favor of the washing machine.
Wrapping herself in a towel, she gathered up her clothes and went to the door. She hesitated, hit with the sudden thought of him creepily waiting on the other side. Normally, in the same way Ben described Christian discernment, devils had an evil sense. Rias wasn't sure she still had that.
Even without it, she thought herself a generally good judge of character. During their conversation, nothing about Ben suggested he was evil, or merely a pervy creeper. When he was only looking in her general direction, not once did he glance at one of her prominent features.
Rias was aware that she was a beautiful girl by most standards. She was amply endowed, which was hard for most men not to notice. What this meant of Ben, the fact he managed to avert his gaze away from her bosom the whole time, she didn't know.
He was either shy, or very respectful and well disciplined. Maybe both. Was it a matter of taste? He wasn't stiff, talking with her easily. He didn't seem repulsed. So, he was odd, but not creepy.
Regardless, Rias quietly turned the door handle and peered out through a sliver opening. To her relief, she saw Ben on the couch watching television, the living room lit softly be a lamp behind the TV set. He chuckled at a joke, echoing audience laughter from the show.
Opening the door further, she called out, “Ben? Do you have a washing machine? I'd like to wash my clothes.”
“Sure. That closet right in front of you, next to the door.”
Rias noted the folding doors to her left, along the wall between the bedroom door and the fridge. They looked like typical closet doors with latted slits. Pulling one open, she saw the drier. The other door revealed the washer and hot water heater.
“Do you need me to show you how it works?” he asked.
Rias was about to say 'no'. His washer looked like any other classic top-loader she had seen, just in English. But, she suddenly had a devilish inclination. Rias wanted to see just how much of a perv Ben might actually be. Suppressing a mischievous smile, she answered as casually as she could, “Yeah. That sounds like a good idea.”
“Really?” Ben muttered, sounding surprised. Standing, he worked his way around the fireplace, up the stairs, over to the appliance closet. She spotted his cursory glance, giving her a quick once-over.
That was all she got.
He turned his focus on the washer, explaining the controls. Reaching overhead, he pulled down a purple bottle of laundry soap. He poured out only a tablespoon into the yellow cap.
“With such a small load, you'll only need about that much,” he concluded.
With a simple gesture, he indicated Rias deposit her clothes in the washer. She complied robotically, her mind still trying to make out what was happening. Ben was unreadable. No stammer. No tripping. No blushing. No cleared throat.
He simply poured the soap in onto her clothes, screwed the cap back onto the bottle before depositing it on the overhead shelf. Then he closed the washer and started it up. As soon as the sound of pouring water started, he turned away to head back to the living room.
“If you want,” he said, “I'll make sure they get put into the drier. Wash time's only half an hour.”
“Okay,” Rias agreed, absently. She quickly decided to be direct. “Y'know. Most boys I know would be tripping over themselves and stammering, being so close to a nearly naked girl like myself.”
Ben paused, turning to look back. His eyes didn't come near her, though, focusing instead on the closet next to her. She could tell he was deep in thought. Finally, he flash-quirked a brow.
“Good night, young Miss Gremory.”
Rias latched onto that detail. “I can't be much younger than you. You're in your twenties, right?”
Ben smirked goodnaturedly. “I'm flattered you think I look that good. But, I'll be thirty-five this December. I'm guessing you're almost half my age. Sixteen? Seventeen? So, I supposed I'm almost old enough to be your father. Especially if I had gotten busy in high school.”
“Oh,” Rias muttered.
“Look. The answer you're looking for is difficult for me to explain without some introspection. It all boils down to one thing. I try not to think about it, or dwell on it. There's more to it than that, but that's for another time. So, good night.”
“Actually, I'm eighteen,” Rias said, trying just a little harder. “I do believe that makes me legal in the U.S.”
“Good night, Miss Gremory.”
“Good night,” Rias echoed, smiling as she gave in to defeat.
Gracefully, she retreated into the guest bedroom, closing the door behind her.
Rias had a hard time getting to sleep. Her mind was over active, at first working at the mystery of Ben. He was single and in his mid-thirties. The ease with which he maintained composure around her near nudity spoke of experiences. She could only guess at how many and what kind. She amused herself with some ideas, but, she soon grew bored, and finally dozed off.
She quickly woke to some random noise from outside. More than once. Being in a foreign room exacerbated her unease, along with her missing wings. Then there was the missing presence of Issei. She had grown accustomed to sleeping by his side, sometimes joined by others of her household.
“Issei,” she murmured, “where are you?”
This room felt abnormally cold without them. Part of that could also have been the air conditioning. Ben seemed to prefer things a little cold. Once she pulled a thin sheet over herself, she started to feel comfortable. Eventually, she did doze off into a deep slumber.
It was still dark out when Rias woke one more time. This time, a dream, about her friends from the Kuoh Academy's Occult Research Club. Issei, Kiba, Akeno, all of them were in the dream. She couldn't recall where they were, the background a swirling morass of colors. All she knew was that they were calling out to her. As Rias tried to recall their words, they all slipped away the more she grew awake.
As she stared at the ceiling, she was left with only a couple phrases, from Akeno. “Rias has got to come! We’ll see her. No doubt!” And, later, “Rias! Is that really you?”
Not knowing what it meant specifically, it still gave Rias hope. They were looking for her.
“Careful,” she warned herself. “It could all be in your head, Rias Gremory, manifesting your subconscious desires.”
She ran what she could over and over in her mind until she finally fell back asleep.
The sun was shining bright when Rias woke. Sitting up, she looked for the clock. It wasn't where Issei normally kept it. When she did find it, it didn't look right. When she noted the time, Rias came fully awake in alarm.
It was ten AM! She was woefully late! Flinging the sheet off her, she was quickly on her feet. Then, Rias noticed the room details. The events of the night came back to her, and she realized there would be no school for her today.
Peaking out the bedroom door, Rias saw Ben in the living room, occupied with the television, again. She wondered if he had slept at all, last night. The smell of eggs and bacon hit her nose. It smelled good. He had made breakfast and she couldn't wait to try it.
Looking to the washing machine and drier, Rias spotted her school uniform, neatly folded up on the drier. It was within arm's reach of the door. Quickly and quietly, Rias slid the door open enough to grab the garments, then closed the door behind her. She didn't believe Ben had noticed.
Her clothes were dry. They didn't smell flowery. They didn't smell at all. And, they felt clean. After slipping on all but the jacket, she went out into the kitchen.
This time, Ben did notice, but Rias hadn't been trying to be stealthy.
“Breakfast is on the counter,” he said. “I hope you're not a vegetarian or something like that.”
Rias found a plate covered over by a skillet lid. Lifting the cover, a cloud of steam wafted up to reveal a fairly large helping or scrambled eggs and a quartet of bacon strips. They looked as good as they smelled. Picking up the plate and the fork next to it, she went to the table.
“I think I'll be fine,” she said.
Taking a bite of the eggs, she found them already lightly salted. They had some leafy spices sprinkled in, and the hint of some other flavor she couldn't identify. A couple of the bacon slices were crisp, while the other two were soft. Both were not too salty, and a touch greasy, but still tasty. It was all good, and before Rias knew, her plate was as clean as a mere fork would allow.
She thought she understood why he was overweight.
“The man can cook,” she muttered.
When she stood, Ben called out, “Just rinse your dishes and leave them in the sink. I'll take care of them in a bit.”
Quietly complying, Rias still felt a little embarrassed seeing that hers were the only dishes in the sink. But, he obviously had a method, and it would be prudent not to mess with that.
She joined him in the living room, seating herself in the only stuffed chair. “What do you put in your eggs?” She asked.
Ben turned off the morning news from his spot on the couch by remote. “Chives, cilantro, garlic, and a little salt,” he listed off slowly.
“Garlic,” Rias echoed. “That's what I tasted.”
“What? Was it too much?” Ben asked.
Rias waved, placating. “Oh, no. I just couldn't place it.”
Ben nodded, accepting her answer. “So, down to business. I have to head out on a job, tomorrow, and I'll be gone for four days. In spite of the circumstances, I can't back out.”
Rias felt her heart skip a beat. Questions immediately flooded her mind about where she would stay, what she would do if a problem came up, and so on.
“What do you do?” she asked.
Ben smirked. “I'm in logistics.” When Rias failed to get it, he added, “I drive truck. Semi?”
She nodded once she understood.
“Anyway,” he continued, “we need to figure out what to do with you. You could stay here, but I don't like that. We are very remote. If anything were to happen, you'd be practically on your own. We'd also have to make some introductions to some of my family and friends so they wouldn't be confused if I left you their numbers.”
He shrugged, not committed to the idea. “You could always stay at my mom's. I have to take Noir there, anyway.” He stroked the old cat, which lay up against his thigh, but not on his lap.
“Or, there's one final option. You can be a ride-along. I'm running the route solo, anyway, so there'll be room, and I'm sure they won't object.”
He looked directly into her eyes for a brief second. “I'm leaving this up to you. Which would you like to do?”
* * *
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