5 Chapter 5: What's with the new guy

"What's with the shepherd guy taking a liking to Zara? Is it another perv?" Dior asks me as we near the entrance of the cave.

"Another? For the record, I'm the least perverted person you know. I know just as much as you do about that creepy weirdo. Worst case scenario we can use Zara for leverage."

I sling the bag of nectar over my shoulder and drop it near the fire. Zara's face is patched up and she seems to be conscious. The shepherd is on the opposite side of the fire from her; getting snuggy with his ghoul, laying on its stomach, scratching its chin. Fucking weirdo.

"We got your princess her drugs. We'll take our half and dip. Hand me my pendant and I'll be on my merry way." I turn to the shepherd and toss him his staff.

The ghoul growls at me but I don't flinch this time. I'm ready to leave. I patiently wait for the shepherd to get up. He doesn't come towards my direction, instead he grabs our bag of nectar and pours it over Zara's wounds.

I watch in awe as her busted up face miraculously heals. The pink burn scar still remains though, dripping from her left eye socket and down to her rounded chin; blemishing her perfect cheek. 

Dior snatches the bag from the shepherd and glares at Zara. The tall diver gathers her senses and stands up to face Dior.

"Oh no you don't. We didn't risk our lives to bring back this nectar and heal you, just so you can throw hands with Dior. You really want to get your ass kicked again?"

Zara grunts but I can hear her heart racing. She doesn't want to catch a fade with Dior ever again. At least, not without her diver suit.

Those things are equipped to the brim and can make a person look three times their size. Not that she needs the size difference anyways. Dior is smaller, but her prowess is larger.

The shepherd takes off his mask and stands between the two girls. My eyes almost fall out of my sockets at the shocking reveal. What the hell. I have never seen an abyss dweller uncover their naked face.

It's flesh has a pink hue, several shades darker than Dior's. Unlike divers and the dwellers of the peaks, it has angular features, similar to the dwellers of the coast. A sharp jawline and a tall pointy nose with bushy silver eyebrows. If it weren't for the murderous yellow eyes, I would be smitten.

He has devilishly handsome features. His silver hair is cut short to a buzz and two long red horns protrude from his skull. A delicate white tattoo of a tiger rests along his right temple. A marking of the demon of fear; the most powerful demon.

A shiver runs down my spine. This whole time I haven't been afraid of his ghoul. It was the aura of the demon whom he had made a covenant with that made me flinch each time I crossed his presence. 

That's when I notice Dior trembling. He is using his blessing on her. She would never fold to fear, unless it was a supernatural phenomenon that was enforced on her. My protective reflex ignites and I throw myself at the handsome shepherd, ready to rip him to shreds.

The ghoul whips its enormous tail at me to prevent me from reaching its master but I bite it clean off with my enhanced jaws. I'm full of maddening fury. Nothing will stand in my way.

My hands reach for the shepherds throat. I can feel the dreadful fear seeping into my veins as I get close to him, but I shove it down and suppress my desire to flee. I won't allow the wretched demon of fear to make me cower from protecting my friend. 

"Wait!" Zara's pleading voice gets through to me.

I hesitate, just a hairs breadth from his throat. In the blink of an eye, I could rip his airways to shreds. Why did I hesitate?

"Please, he's a dear friend to me, just as Dior is to you. I think we all got off on the wrong foot. You didn't grab the nectar for nothing, it was stupid of me to let my emotions get ahold of me; let's have a chat shall we?"

Dior turns to me with a questioning look. She doesn't seem opposed to the idea. That's the only thing keeping this Shepherd alive. Dior's indifference calms my nerves.

"Alright, but I want to hear this freak talk. Can he do that?"

The handsome abyss dweller smirks as he eyes me up and down. He isn't scared. I'm not sure if he's not scared of me or not scared of death as a whole. Either way he's stupid. Perhaps all the abyss dwellers are. Breathing in abyssal fog can't be good for your health.

Moments later, we all gather around the fire like a happy family. Damn near singing kumbaya together. I'm sitting next to the ghoul. It licks its wounds where I severed its tail.

A part of me feels bad for it, but then I remind myself that it's a damn ghoul. Those things will heartlessly eat babies if you let them. I'm glad I bit off that monsters tail.

"So... there's a bit of an issue with how abyss dwellers communicate... you have to smoke pipe if you want to hear his voice."

I raise a questioning brow to Dior. This idiot diver has to be lying. I have to do some mysterious drugs in order to talk to handsome ghoul whisperer? 

"She's telling the truth, my dad's side of the family are abyssal and they always communicated telepathically. If you want to inherit that ability you need to smoke some fog." Dior explains.

"You can't be serious, I was just out here breathing the damn thing in for almost an hour."

"Nope, this is a concentrated version that penetrates deep into your blood vessels. It's the only way to open up the chakra to communicate through the third eye." Zara chimes in enthusiastically.

"What in the actual hell guys. Am I being peer pressured into drugs? Hold on a second, before I do this freaky pipe fog bullshit, aren't you divers currently at war with ghoul whisperers? What is going on here?"

"All will be answered by my friend, only after you smoke that pipe."

Oh gods what have I gotten myself into. The shepherd pulls out a long wooden pipe with intricate engravings of mystical creatures on it from his belt. He sticks it in his lantern to light it with the obsidian flame and hands it to me.

It reeks of ghouls blood. I know that smell too well. I give a nervous glance to Dior but she squeezes my hand reassuringly. Hold up, if she was able to communicate to her father at a young age, then that meant she smoked this as a child?!

I can't be bitch. If she could do it so can I. Besides this isn't really doing drugs, this is just a means to communicate. My life flashes before my eyes as I bring the pipe to my lips.

Why is that a thing? I'm remembering all the times my parents scolded me for doing bad things. All the warning about "don't do drugs" and "stay in school".

A tear runs down my cheek as I take in a puff. I'm sorry mom. I'd much rather be smelling the sweet aroma of your candles. What have I done? I've shamed my family. I've abandoned my morals. This is so not it.

As the smoke leaves my lungs, a tingling sensation starts pulsating on my forehead. I lock eyes with the handsome devil. A deep soothing voice enters my mind.

"Hello there, my name is Perada. I'm glad we got to set our differences aside and talk things out; us short kings need to stick together."