666 ♛ Crowley

sixteen

[11:42pm]

IF ANYONE WAS asked to describe the scene they saw before them, they would paint a vivid picture of utter chaos and despair. But not, as you may think, the violent scenes of demons ripping each other apart for the throne of Hell or even the ruthless King of Hell torturing information out of his less-than-loyal subjects.

For this was the room of someone who had nothing left to live for.

The blonde demon sat before the King smirked at the sight of her pitiful once-leader; her long legs were splayed over the arm of the hideously patterned armchair which is where she peered over at the unmoving form on the bed. These were one of the few hours a day which the creature began to enjoy over the months.

Ones where she was not slaving away for the drugged up ex-King, fulfilling every one of his piteous human desires, under the orders of the new Queen. Not that the demon was complaining. Ever since the Knight had taken over, the caverns of Hell were filled once again with screams and the new ruler was bloodthirsty and malicious. Just how it was meant to be.

With Abaddon in charge, she could once again make humans quake at the sound of her name with no thought of a punishment by the old king, who was far too human nowadays. The thought of him sending needle-full after needle-full of human blood through his veins, it was enough to make any demon shudder at the thought of those feelings.

The shrill ringing of her phone broke the demon from her violent fantasies which were the only thing keeping her — well, perhaps sane is the wrong word, she thought with a malicious grin. Why they had to use the irritating devices of humans was unbeknownst to her, what happened to the old ways of running a knife down an old man's throat to call upon Hell?

"Too much mess I suppose," she sighed to herself, sliding the device out of her pocket and tapping accept with her long, slender fingers, nails painted a deep, blood red. "Yes? Of course it's me you insolent fool. Yes, I'll be there. Tell Abaddon I expect to speak to her personally; I have some news that would be of great interest to her."

She strutted over to the bed where the once-powerful King lay passed out, beads of sweat outlining his withered and pale face. "Can't say I'll miss you dear, being high on this filthy human blood really isn't a good look." Scooping up his phone, she swung back towards the door without a backwards glance, twisting her hand around to slam the hotel door behind her.

In amongst the piles of old bottles, dirty bed sheets and the stench of sweat, the King lay unaware that his kingdom was crumbling to dust as he continued to take his poison, unaware of the danger he had put someone in as he slept on.

[12:10am]

"I don't appreciate being summoned by my subjects. This better be good." Abaddon flicked a speck of imaginary dust from under her fingernails, clearly bored by the prospect of whatever it was the demon had to say.

The demons stood amongst the towering piles of crates, their chosen meeting place being a warehouse (one of the many owned by hell's residents). There was little interest in the room itself: bland white walls, boxes seemingly randomly jammed wherever they would fit and the blue-vested workmen who were scattered about the vast room.

To a normal human eye, the sight would have been perfectly ordinary, if a little tedious. However, to the demons in the room, it was a base of operations. Not, as it once was, a place to organise the collecting of souls—the new Queen cared little for systems, preferring to dominate the humans rather than remain under the radar—but a place of storage for potential meatsuits.

Unperturbed, the demon hurried on. "There's something you need to see," she announced, too excited to receive praise from her new ruler to disguise the pride there. Drawing the slender device from her handbag, she offered the seemingly harmless phone to the new Queen who took it, failing to see its importance.

"Congratulations, you have discovered how humans communicate despite having summoned me this way only two hours ago. So if this is all you—" Abaddon began with obvious impatience. She had a kingdom to run for Lucifer's sake.

"It's Crowley's," the demon interrupted, "my queen," she rushed on as the other glared at her, not used to being spoken over. "Look who he's been texting. It's all the time, when he's got that filthy blood inside him. I don't know who she is, but obviously she means something to him"

The Queen scrolled up through the messages the pair had been exchanging for several months now. "Oh look, she's ignoring him. Trouble in paradise? Well things are only going to get worse for you my dear," she muttered to herself in glee.

Flicking her finger towards the scurrying demon, she demanded that ten of her finest warriors should be dispatched immediately. "Find this Jennifer and bring her to me. Personally." With mutters of "yes my Queen," the demons scuttled out of the room, clearly relived they had escaped her wrath.

"Did I do well? I was hoping to ask, maybe I could be moved from my current post. Crowley is high most of the time, the pathetic moron. He doesn't even know I'm there half the time. We could—" the demon rambled on, unaware of the vicious stare piercing her.

"We could what precisely?" Abaddon growled murderously. "If you're suggesting that my leadership isn't good enough...?"

"Of course not my Queen, I meant nothing by it." She stammered back.

With a smile that would send the bravest men cold, the Queen strode over and grabbed the whimpering demon by her throat. "No, you didn't. Now go back to slaving away for your pathetic leader while I deal with this human."

The red-haired demon dropped the other unceremoniously onto the floor where she scuttled backwards, clutching at her aching throat. Nodding fervently, she scrambled to her feet, trying to look professional as she smoothed down her clothes before leaving the room, trying her upmost not to run.

Abaddon, meanwhile, had returned to her Kingdom. The room she most often occupied was still streaked with the remains of the last unfortunate soul that passed through those doors; their wooden design, similar to that of an old castle with its heavy iron castings, was smeared with a dark, crusty red stain. She fixed the wall with a piercing stare, surveying the various instruments displayed on the wall. "Well, well Jennifer. Let's see what we can do for you..."