The Devil & Me

Chapter Twelve: The Morning's Star

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When the dream came, I wasn't even angry. It made at least a little bit of sense, compared to the man prowling my living room and my mother's sudden tiredness. Plus, he wore a kind look on his face. And was it so strange to say that I needed it? After two months living in the shouting and screaming that Matthew raised every day trying to get his way, trying to turn this roof into army barracks?

"You called me," he said. Instead of my bedroom, I sat on the edge of the bed in the magnificent room, the one with four posters and a curtain drawn around it. As of now, the curtain was open, and he⁠⁠—the Devil that looked like Cassius, the Devil that was Cassius⁠⁠—sat at my feet. I looked at him from between lashes and swollen eyelids. His gaze was the same kind of hot as always. It didn't annoy me so much...in a weird way, it was nice. My whole life could be destroyed, but I could still count on this thing, this monster to want me still.

"You never call me." He turned his head and looked up at me. I liked that too. It made me feel like all the power was in my hands. "What happened?"

"I'm surprised you haven't grown a second set of horns," I said. "I thought you'd grow monstrous."

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Did you, Camille?" He set his hands on my knees, and the warmth traveled up my legs. I imagined a world where I opened them a little. I might have found release. And I needed that too.

"Yes. But instead, you're oddly...beautiful. But the Devil was an angel before he was the Devil, wasn't he?"

"He was." The Devil stood up slowly as if trying to avoid spooking a scared animal. He took my face in his left hand and tilted it upward. His eyes didn't leave mine until his thumb padded over a sore spot. "What happened?"

If I cried then, I would've felt even worse about it. I shook my head. There was nothing I could say that would make it make sense to me. My mother had taken up with a man who thought he owned us. That man was violent too. Now here I was with the...lover that maybe I had imagined up all along. Full of self-pity, I invoked him and he'd come to listen to my problems at my call.

Nothing made sense anymore.

"My mother's soon-to-be husband happened. I don't know what to do."

"Ah." His fingers moved up to my cheek. "I've neglected you a lot. But I won't do it again now. You need a solution. I'll give you one."

His touch was soothing. I let my eyes lull closer to a close. "Hmm? And how will you do that?" I asked.

"I'll come get you if you call me, Camille."

"Call the Devil?" He traced the outline of my mouth. I leaned upward, and his skin tinted red. He became more worldly⁠⁠—a little less Devil and a little more Cassius Ambrose. "By which name?"

"Don't you know my name, Camille?" The world blurred around us. "You know my name." His touch faded. "You know me."

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I sat up sweaty in the dark. It was still night. In fact, only an hour had passed since I tried to sleep the first time. Since then, my mother had left three missed calls. Matthew left two. I picked up my phone and scrolled through my contacts. My eyes caught on the name Ambrose Devil. I opened it up and changed it to Cassius.

My finger hovered above the call button. No, but calling was strange⁠⁠—I should've texted him. I shouldn't have reached out at all. But I thought I heard him mention a house in New York once, and I needed a place to go. I mean, it was either find somewhere to sleep or find a shelter or stay. And I couldn't really stay, could I?