12.

Tristan, having not a worry in the world now that she felt secure with a God by her side, figuratively in this case, made her way downstairs for dinner with her dads. What she wasn't expecting was to be met by the scowls from both of her parents, fully aware of why they were upset as soon as she noticed the keys sitting beside Julian's plate. He had seen the damage to the vehicle and was clearly angry. However, he seemed calmer than how Tristan originally thought he would be.

It was Mike that made Tristan tremble a little, because he was the one who usually dealt the punishments. His disappointment meant a lot to Tristan, not that Julian's didn't. But Mike was Tristan's biological father and somehow he had a way of showing his feelings so openly with his daughter. No matter the distance that had separated them in the last year, Mike still had a hold on Tristan emotionally.

Tonight was no different. As scary as it was to face Julian's disappointment over the car, it was Mike's anger that scared Tristan the most. She knew she would be grounded for the rest of her senior year. She also knew there was no sense in trying to come up with excuses for what she had done.

Julian cleared his throat and gestured for Tristan to have a seat at her usual spot at the table. Hesitating, Tristan took a few steps before finding her seat, finding herself awkwardly placed behind the set dinnerware. The anger from her parents radiated over the table, yet neither one could find the way to start the conversation that needed to be had.

"Tristan," Julian began, trying to keep his voice monotone, "We need to talk about what happened to my car."

Tristan nodded and choked back her tears, the same tears that were always trying to escape. She felt an immense amount of guilt for what had happened to the car, but it was an accident. She knew that and yet she couldn't defend herself.

"I don't care what excuses you might have now. It was bad enough with the garden, but this? This is a new low. I'm more surprised than I am angry. I'm surprised that you would pull such a horrific and dangerous stunt like what you did --- whatever you did. All I know is that my car looks like a crushed tin can and I trusted you to keep it in working order," Julian said. "If you can't keep it together while it's still mine, how can I trust you to take care of it if it were to ever be yours?"

"Well..." Tristan began, but Mike shook his head for Tristan not to interrupt Julian.

"Go on, Jules," Mike encouraged.

Julian sighed as he wiped one hand over his face, staring at his daughter as he tried to figure out how to go about the conversation.

"I don't know who you are trying to be, Tristan, but this isn't you," Julian said. "What's going on with you lately?"

"Nothing," Tristan replied, sharply. "I'm sorry about your car. It was an accident."

Julian was ready to start scolding Tristan, but when he looked over his daughter, he noticed that she had what looked to be blood smeared at the top of her hairline. Despite seeming clean, something had definitely happened. Maybe his feelings from earlier weren't entirely off.

"Did you get hurt?" Julian asked.

Mike perked up a little, looking Tristan over from across the table. Funny that he hadn't been as perceptive as Julian had, seeing as how Mike was the nurse. However, as soon as Mike caught sight of the blood on Tristan's forehead, he jumped up from his seat and began to investigate closer. Tristan wasn't receptive at all to this, pushing her father off as soon as he tried to come near.

"Tristan, you have blood on you!" Mike exclaimed, thumbing off the leftover blood from Tristan's accident.

Whatever had once hurt her, it was gone with Esme's touch. But Tristan hadn't properly washed herself yet, she had simply changed her shirt and wiped off the remnants of her own blood with some paper towel in her room. She had thought she was presentable for her parents, she must not have noticed the leftover blood near her hairline.

"I'm perfectly fine, I promise," Tristan replied, swatting away Mike's hands. "I rolled the car but I wasn't hurt. Someone... something jumped out on the road and I swerved."

"You swerved? You should never swerve, Tristan!" Mike scolded again.

"I know I shouldn't have! But, I did. I can't take back my mistake now, can I?" Tristan said.

Julian sighed and tapped Mike for him to sit back down, which he did with some hesitation. Mike was clearly upset at the idea of his daughter not only having been in an accident, but being in an accident where the outcome could have been far worse.

"Your dad is right. You need to remember what you were taught in driving school. We paid for those lessons for a reason," Julian explained. "More importantly, I'm so glad you're safe. But why on earth didn't you call us when it happened? Did you call anyone?"

"I didn't report it," Tristan said, truthfully. "The car was fine and whatever was on the road must have ran off, so I'm assuming it must be fine."

"Did you hit your head?" Mike persisted.

Tristan shook her head, lying to her dads. "I think something in the car hit me in the head."

"You need to get looked over... now," Mike insisted. "If not by me, then by someone at the hospital."

"I'm okay. It was probably just a water bottle that was floating around in the car when it flipped," Tristan replied.

Mike was about to interject again, but Julian stopped him and hushed him softly. Julian focused his attention back on his daughter.

"That was incredibly dangerous, Tristan. I'm disappointed that you didn't call for help. You could have been seriously injured and not known it," Julian reprimanded. "Not to mention the state that the car was in. You shouldn't have driven it home."

"Well, I did. I did what I thought was right. We can't afford any insurance claims right now, you know that," Tristan said in a very adult-like tone. It surprised both Mike and Julian.

"I don't care whether we can afford it or not. If you are ever in that position again -- Gods forbid -- then please, call for help," Julian said.

Tristan nodded, accepting this. She would respect what Julian was asking of her. However, Julian wasn't finished.

"Now, onto the state of the car. Before dinner I took it over to a repair shop and got an estimate on the damage. I'm glad you're safe now and that you're not hurt, but that doesn't excuse you from what you did. You need to be accountable, Tristan," Julian said, pausing to look over his daughter. "The damage is pretty severe, but it's mostly body work. The suspension is still in working order, thankfully. But that doesn't mean there won't be work needed on it."

"I want you to find a way to fix the car. You need to figure out how you are going to pay off thirty-one-hundred dollars in body work. If that means you have to get a part-time job until then, so be it. I won't ask you for what you have already saved for college because you will need that. You will need to figure it out for yourself."

Tristan sank a little, nodding again. She accepted Julian's conditions, knowing that she would figure it out somehow. Mike interjected.

"You're also grounded for the rest of the month," said Mike. "And you are not allowed to use the car ever again. You can take the bus to school."

The punishment wasn't as severe as Tristan had thought it was going to be, but she still felt bad about what happened. Sure, she hadn't been behaving behind the wheel as Julian had requested she do, but she wasn't misbehaving when the accident happened. The accident had been uncalled for, it had been some sort of fluke, Tristan figured.

After both Mike and Julian were finished laying down their punishments, they asked that Tristan sit to have dinner. She didn't eat as much as she usually did, but neither Mike nor Julian questioned why. They figured that she wasn't hungry because she felt bad about the car, but Tristan was saving her appetite while also saving leftovers for Esme.

Because Tristan was hungry for something much more than roasted beef and potatoes. She was hungry for revenge.

Despite losing privileges from Julian's car while also being grounded for the month, Tristan didn't feel like any of that mattered to her now. A few days prior it might have mattered, but not now that she had Esme. For all the reasons Tristan could muster, it was worth believing in Esme. She already felt more confident in herself. Not to mention the effect that the two of them would have on the school the following day when they walked through the doors together, that was going to be a confidence booster for Tristan.

Because Esme would protect Tristan, this much she knew. Tristan had all the hope and faith in the world now in Esme, not letting a shadow of a doubt cloud her way. She knew that believing in Esme was a wise investment on her part, seeing as how she wasn't hurting anyone. If anything, she was helping people to not hurt her.

More importantly, Tristan had even more faith now that Twila would give Tristan a chance to talk to her, to set the record straight, and to win her back. This faith was stronger than anything and was the underlying motivation behind Tristan wanting Esme's help. She wanted Twila to forgive her, and she wanted a chance for that to happen. But, Tristan knew that without Esme, she wouldn't even stand a chance, let alone survive the last year of high school.

Tristan moseyed her way back upstairs, acting wounded in front of her parents but excited the second that she was halfway upstairs, knowing that she was going to figure out more about her God.

Tristan hurried to her bedroom door, stopping herself just outside to take a deep breath and calm herself. She didn't want to look too excited in fear of looking desperate, so she cooled herself down before striding through the door. She made sure to lock the door behind her before she turned around to see what Esme had been up to in the forty-five minutes that she had been gone.

Tristan was surprised to see Esme at the computer, poking away at the keyboard one letter at a time. She paused to look over her shoulder at Tristan, smiling from ear to ear.

"I hope you don't mind that I've been experimenting with the new age of technology," Esme said. "This is incredibly fascinating and yet so frustrating. How do I stop my words from being capitalized?"

Tristan found this slightly endearing but went straight to Esme's aid. She clicked one button on the keyboard and Esme jumped excitedly as if it was magic, typing one key at a time to see that her words were no longer in caps lock.

"You want to talk about magic? This is magic! I can't believe how similar it is to the typewriter... but I can communicate across all these barriers all over the world in a click. Fabulous invention, if you ask me," Esme said, excitedly.

"Yeah, it's pretty great," Tristan said, uninterested in what Esme was saying about the computer. She wanted to get on to talking about Gods and belief, what the future held, and how to get Twila back. "Can you do that another time?"

Esme nodded and spun around in her chair, facing Tristan now.

"How's the damage with the parents?" Esme questioned.

"Ah, could be better, but it also could be worse," Tristan surmised. "I'm grounded for the month, so there's that."

"And the car?"

"I owe the expense on the damages and I'm not allowed to use it ever again."

"Reasonable," Esme replied. She saw Tristan's expression change slightly, adding to her thought. "But, like you said, it could have been worse."

"I'm not allowed to use my savings for it either," Tristan mumbled. "So, looks like I have to come up with the money somehow."

Tristan sighed as she walked over to her bed and sat down on the edge, feeling the heaviness of her eyes for the first time all day. Esme noted this and scurried over to the bedside, pulling down Tristan's blankets so that she could usher Tristan into them. Tristan wasn't even dressed for bed, but she didn't seem to care in that moment. She laid in her clothes under the blankets as Esme tucked her in, feeling warm and cozy. Esme stood at the edge of the bed, proud of herself.

Tristan closed her eyes for what felt like a moment, but when she woke up, the room was dimly lit by the backlight of her computer. She turned over to her alarm clock to see that it was nearly four in the morning, wondering where Esme was sleeping. But Esme wasn't sleeping at all. Instead, the little God was perched at the desk once again, occasionally clicking on the mouse of the computer.

The thought of going back to sleep was prominent in Tristan's mind, but she roused herself enough to sit up in bed.

"Aren't you going to sleep?" Tristan asked, curious now as Esme jumped a little at the sound of her voice. Esme clearly wasn't expecting Tristan to wake up.

Esme spun in the desk chair to look at Tristan, smiling at her as if nothing was wrong. But Tristan knew just by that smile that Esme had something she wasn't telling her.

"Well, I would, but..." Esme paused. She thought over what she was going to say before she continued. "I just woke up from fifty years in the grave, I'm not entirely crazy about the idea of sleeping right now."

"Don't you get tired at all?" Tristan asked. "Oh, crap. I forgot about your meal in the fridge. My parents are fast asleep by now."

Esme cracked a little, sighing as she got up from the chair and headed over to Tristan, sitting on the edge of her bed so that the two were only a few feet away from each other.

"I'm not particularly hungry either, Tristan," Esme replied. "Don't worry about me."

"I am worried about you. God or not, you need to rest," Tristan said, leaning over to grab Esme by the wrist so that she could drag her into the bed beside her.

Esme settled into the bed a little awkwardly beside Tristan because there wasn't much room. That didn't matter to Tristan, she cared more about Esme having a good night's sleep. The two laid silently beside each other for awhile, but Esme couldn't seem to close her eyes. Tristan was about to doze off when something alerted her that Esme was feeling anxious.

Tristan opened one eye and peeked over at Esme who was laying on her back with her hands folded over her chest. Her eyes were wide open as she stared at the ceiling, blinking occasionally to let Tristan know that Esme wasn't sleeping with her eyes open.

"You can't sleep, can you?" Tristan asked, realizing then that Esme had something she wasn't telling her. "Do you have nightmares?"

"About another life, yes," Esme responded sharply. She didn't mean to sound the way she had, but the words had tumbled out of her mouth. She corrected herself. "I had nightmares my entire fifty year sleep. I don't think I'm ready to face them again."

Tristan let out a sigh, reaching over to drape one hand over Esme's. The heat of Esme's skin radiated onto Tristan, nearly burning her despite the gentle touch between them.

"Try to sleep, I bet it will be different this time," Tristan implored, feeling her own tiredness sinking back in. "If it isn't, find me in your dreams and I'll try to help you fight the bad guys."

"The demons," Esme corrected.

Tristan's eyes snapped open as Esme looked over to her, trying to gauge how Tristan was going to react. The two laid silently as Tristan tried to comprehend something that her mind had never thought of before--there was more to life than just Gods and humans. Because there had to be balance in the universe, and with good must come evil. But no one had ever really talked about demons, at least not the Gods.

Sure, Tristan had heard the horror stories about demons. There had been many fictional movies depicting various interpretations of demons, yet there had never been anything concrete from the Gods. Instead, the Gods never spoke of demons, only the Heavens. Up until now, Tristan had thought it was all hogwash. She didn't believe in any of it.

Now that Tristan believed in Gods, or, more importantly, a God--her perception of what she once thought was real and true began to change. All of her life, she had lived in her own ignorance about what believing in a God entailed. She never strayed from the opinions that her parents passed down to her, not even when Leigha, her own best friend, started to believe in Bosere.

As much as Tristan didn't want to admit it, believing in a God had changed Leigha. Would that be the same for Tristan? Would it change everything about what she once believed in? She had never judged Leigha for believing in Bosere before, but Tristan couldn't deny that she had seen the significant changes in her friend since her belief started.

If these changes were because of Leigha believing in a God, what would become of Tristan when she opened up to her own belief?

"Are the demons you see in your nightmares real?" Tristan asked. Part of her didn't want to know the answer to her own question, but she had to know.

"As real as they come," She almost whispered the words. "But they aren't here. Not in this world."

"Tell me about them," Tristan implored. "I want to know what kind of demon could scare a God."

"It's not easy to understand, and a lot of humans that do understand typically don't last long."

Tristan scoffed. "You think a few demons are going to scare me?"

Even though Tristan was purposely puffing her chest out to act tough, she knew that Esme wasn't buying it. Sighing, Tristan rolled onto her back so that she could stare up at the ceiling.

"Do the demons want to hurt you?" Tristan asked.

"Yes," Esme quickly replied. "They want to hurt everyone. It doesn't seem to matter if they're human, God, or even demon themselves -- they want to drag everyone down to the Hells."

"What do you want -- as a God?"

"To help, to live, to go back to the Heavens with my believers," Esme stated. "What I certainly don't want is to be trapped in my own head again for fifty years, surrounded by demons trying to pry their way in at every opportunity. It was horrifying, Tristan. I've never seen or felt anything like it."

"But you're awake now," Tristan reminded. "There isn't anything to be scared of now that you have a believer, right?"

"Gods forbid anything happen to you, Tristan," Esme added.

"I'm alive and well. See?" Tristan pinched her own skin as if that was supposed to prove something. She grinned, her head toppling over to look at Esme. "Nothing is going to happen to me. I'm a tough cookie. Besides, we can take on anything so long as we believe in each other."

Esme liked Tristan's positivity, but she needed something more concrete. She lifted up her pinky finger to which Tristan hooked hers around. They shook on it with their fingers, yet another promise made between them.

"You should try to at least close your eyes," Tristan said, feeling another wave of tiredness hit her. She yawned and took her hand back to rub at her eyes. "I haven't been sleeping well lately."

"Can I tell you a story? Maybe it will help me feel tired. You can listen until you fall asleep," Esme instructed.

Tristan nodded as she pulled the blankets up to her chin, her eyes too heavy to keep open now. Esme cleared her throat before she began...