Demon Turned Lover [BxB]

Mammon

        I staggered up the oaken stairs, using the metal railing as support for my body. I wasn't sure if I was moving so slowly because I was jaded, or because I didn't want to meet the demon. The temptation to just run away was getting stronger, but my self-control proved potent. I gripped my scratchy shoulder strap. It felt odd carrying a bag like a regular human, since I would always use my powers to carry things. But I guess I liked having it on as it acted as a substitute for my wings—weight wise. The clothes I was wearing were quite strange too, but they were less of a struggle to get into—and, I hardly got any curious looks from passer-bys.

       I took out the mint notebook from my flannel pocket and began to read over it silently. I had written a few notes from Ezekiel's monologue at the hotel. It seemed like he knew a lot about Mammon, some how. I noticed the confused expressions on Helena's face when something he said wasn't in her files.

       I raised my head from my notebook. The sound of muffled music, that I had previously ignored, was getting louder. Who in their right mind played music this loud early in the day? Especially with how thin these apartment walls were. I dropped the small book back into my pocket as I reached the third floor, my eyes stopping at the door with a crooked eight on it. Mammon's apartment. Coincidentally, the ear-splitting music—as well as his demonic aura—was coming from there. How convenient. I strode towards the brown door, like an angry neighbour going to tell him to turn it down, before banging on it. No answer. I banged on it again, but this time, the volume decreased and incoherent yelling could be heard from the other side. I sighed.

        The door was then forced open, which ended with a loud thud that was probably louder than his music. A man—demon—of tall stature stood in front of me, his jaw clenched and his hand gripping the door hinge. I wouldn't be surprised if there was an imprint left on the hinge from how hard he was holding it. The demon had on a thin white shirt, so thin that I could perceive the tattoos hiding under it. I crinkled my nose at his unruly appearance. His free arm was littered with tattoos and he had many piercings on each ear. I could understand one or two but four? Not to mention that inking your body was a sin—but who was I to expect that a demon would abide by these rules.

        "What the fuck do you want?" Mammon snapped, malice dripping from his voice. I stood still, pokerfaced as I stared at him. Mammon reminded me of him: the boy I saw near the apple tree. They looked alike—the same black hair and the same muscular physique. But I knew it wasn't him because I hadn't received that same alleviating feeling.

        "It's nice to meet you Mammon. I'm Luka, your guardian angel," I answered robotically, putting on a fake smile.

        The raven-haired pressed his palm against his forehead, groaning loudly to express his annoyance, "For devil's sake! I've had at least twenty of you bastards, why won't they just give up."

His eyes began raking up and down my figure disapprovingly. "They could have at least given me a hot one like...Elizabeth."

        I gritted my teeth, trying to hold in the anger that was accumulating. How could he just objectify her like that? Mammon smirked at my reaction as he bent down, his face levelling with my own. "What's wrong? Did I hit a nerve, hm?"

        I sighed, blowing out my frustration. I couldn't let him get to me. It would just lower my chances. "Her name is Elise."

       "You knew the girl? What, was she your little angel girlfriend?"

       I lifted my brows, "What? No! She was my friend."

       "Yeah, was." Mammon laughed as my eyes widened in shock. I didn't know what to say, or do. How could he just laugh off her death like that? I knew demons were cruel, but after spending so much time with someone, you would expect them to have even the slightest ounce of remorse. "So, are you gonna' come in or what?"