The setting sun had gilded the formerly blue sky. It was an alert for Earth's people, to motherly tell them that they need not add to the layer of exertion, to cause the children to grab their colourful toothbrushes and stuffed animals. But here I was, gaping at it with apologies scrawled on my eyes, the raven-haired's grip constricting my already thin wrist. He refused to tell me where we were going, and the foremost question, why. We had taken so many inconversant turns, passing frowzy corner shops and fancy restaurants, that I had almost thought that Mammon was seeing me to my death.
There was rarely anyone out trekking on the frigid paths of the streets, and those who were, skewed away from us as if we were some rabid dogs; their heads were droopy, like the sun was thawing away the muscles in their necks.
My intolerance was growing stably, and I was continuously measuring it in my head with a pencil. "Mammon, for the last time, where are we going?"
"Just bear with me alright angel?...It's a surprise." It was no surprise, I knew. It was as though the raven-haired was striding on bubble wrap, but rather than the worthwhile pops, rage and aggravation fulminated from the blisters with every step. These weren't the emotions one would feel when bringing someone to an alleged surprise.
"Mammon...I know it's not a surprise. Come on, you can tell me you know."
"I know I can tell you, but I'd rather you see it. Jus' a little more walking."
We began down another path after taking a right turn, and Mammon lessened his zealous pace. This part of town was abnormally quiet, with only an intrepid brown-striped cat stalking the paths. The shops with rentable rooms above them seemed old, but weren't at the edge of dilapidation, and were painted dull colours—colours that were presumably once flamboyant, and full of life, but had become depressed over the years.
The raven-haired suspended himself from going any further, and turned to look at me. We stopped in front of an old-fashioned pub with a grey brick wall, the internal light looking through the window and shop's LED sign, Pilsen Pub, glared at us.
"We're goin' somewhere with a lot of people, okay?" he whispered.
I glanced at the fulgarating sign, "The pub?..."
"Nah. I need you to act normal, you know, like my...cousin." Mammon set his hands on my shoulders, like he was going to shake his requests into my pores. "Your name's Luka, you're nineteen, and you're my cousin visitin' 'cause your mom's on holiday. Got it?"
"You're acting like I'm going to forget my name..."
A smile was brought to his face before he withdrew his hands reluctantly, "And you...uh...might wanna' cover up that hickey."
My lips purveyed the red pigment they used, all over my face as I instinctively covered the hickey with my palm. I felt so embarrassed—I had been walking around the town...with this hickey, so crisp and so pronounced, on my neck.
"Or not...They'll never know I gave it to you," the raven-haired commented, lengthening the vowels so as to make them dwell rousingly in my ears. He rotated on his heel, and started ambling down the long rectangular ashtray that was the path, leaving a flustered me in the lurch.
Mammon had entered a dark alley purloined from the myriad of horror movies we watched, right as my feet brought me behind him. The certainty that he was leading me to my death was at its apex.
I stared ahead,"Dante...what is this place?"
Large black garbage bags were sitting composedly abreast the wheeled green bin. Flyers were distributed all over the wide path, and I shunned them like the cracks in a path. The conversing of a group of people could be heard not so far away.
"The alley."
I frowned at his curt reply, but was soon distracted by the dim light up ahead, and the cacophonous talking.
"Dante!" a shrill voice exclaimed.
"Dan? What are you doin' here?"
I peeked over Mammon's broad shoulder, and was greeted by disbelieving shrill gasps, and the paling shock that stood before them, taking their limelight. Sorra, and two other women were the emitters. Nikolai didn't seem surprised, and kept his body to the brick wall near the umber door—the circular light source just above it. There was a short blonde woman leaning on the door, her back to us as she gave us a sidelong glance. My eyes widened as soon as my mind had recognised her emanations. That aura...it was hers?
The woman with golden brown skin threw her condescending eyes at me; her hazel green eyes were sharp, and I could instantly tell she would exploit them to make others feel inferior. "Sicras! Why the hell did you bring someone else? You know this ain't the spot for-"
"He knows about it," the raven-haired interrupted the tall woman, shrugging it off before using his hand to push me forward. "He's not gonna' tell anyone."
"And how the fuck do you kno-"
"He's my cousin, Natalie, not a fuckin' stranger," he retorted at the ruffled woman, who looked at Sorra—who was sitting on a larger green bin beside the door—for an intervention. She had thick dark brown locks, that seemed to go a little past her shoulders, sourcing from her head and beauty marks darted on her face—one beside her right eye, one beside her full lips, and another floating over her left brow.
"Knock it off Nat, you're scaring him," Sorra responded to her call, making her sigh out of frustration. Her fashion sense, I had noticed, was quite trailblazing. Today, she wore a cropped black leather top with four black belts fastening it, and flared jeans.
The dirty-blonde woman made a product from the time Sorra spent heartening Natalie, by prancing over to Mammon, her austere white skirt bouncing a bit too high. I bagged a glimpse of the heart tattoo under her left eye as she did, and could feel the perturbation permeate my stomach. She was the woman who was in Mammon's bedroom that day!...
"You're not really leaving Crimson, are you?" she whimpered, wrapping her lean arms around the raven-haired's, and pushing it in-between her breasts. A pang of envy struck my core as the woman peered up at him with come-hither eyes. I felt worried, mad. She wasn't at his apartment for no reason; what if he still had the residue of his feelings for her?
Disgust rippled across Mammon's face as he glared her, "Andrea, get the hell off me."
"No! You need to tell me why you're leaving so suddenly..." Andrea—who had only came up to his shoulder—dragged a finger down his chest as she gazed at her manicured dusty rose nails.
Mammon scowled at her before looking towards Sorra, and Nikolai, "Where the fuck is Victor?"
"Right behind you, fuckwit." Everyone, including I, had poked their heads in the direction of the deep voice, coming from behind him. A tall, and muscular man, the raven-haired's scowling partner, was approaching us, his tan fists clenched—white bandages were wrapped around both hands, but they didn't seem to be there because of an injury. His appearance...was weirdly similar to Mammon's. (Victor's black hair was styled just like the raven-haired's, messy and parted vaguely in the middle.)
"Not good to keep your guests waitin' Victor. Didn't Vogel teach you anythin'?" Mammon remarked angrily.
His noisome air got closer, and closer—I detested every second of it. Every single alarm bell installed in my capacious head for this very moment was ringing. Victor was the one who had spied on us in the forest, and because of that, his aura had been disloyal. It reeked of violence, yet a fascination rented my eyes.
I had found one. A demi, and the son of Azuth.
"I need to talk to you." Victor got hold of the shoulder of the raven-haired's brown zip up, and wrested him from Andrea's arms. I made the stupid mistake of creating eye contact with him, and could anon feel his terrorising glare probing me. It left my mind battered. I wondered...if he had known that I was his guardian angel.
"What's gotten into him?" Andrea whined in her high-pitched voice, crossing her arms self-consciously as the two men stormed down the darkening alley.
The brunet shrugged, "They're always like that."
"Use protection!" Sorra exclaimed at the evanescent men before both her and Natalie turned to the blonde.
"What the fucking hell was that Volker?"
"What was what?..."
"You rubbing your tits all over his damn arm?" Natalie added vulgarly, "it's clear he doesn't want you!"
"And he has a girlfriend," Nikolai blurted, staring off into the dark abyss.
Andrea's jaw had went slack at his words. She seemed even more shocked now, than when I had come into the forbidden alley.
"Girlfriend or not, Andrea, you need to get over him. He treats you like absolute shit anyway." Sorra was essaying to clean up the turmoil the brunet had carelessly initiated.
"Treats me like shit? You guys don't know anything! He's the only who ever loved me, and I'm the only one who's ever loved him!"
Her words had plunged right through me, like a thread going through the eye of a needle. I couldn't help but think that her words were true.
Natalie was labouring to bite back her fierce tongue as she placed her forearm on the short-haired woman's lap, staring at me for something amiss. Her anger appeared to have a lever, fixed low enough for even children to pull. "You're Sicras's cousin?"
"Yeah, my name's Luka."
"Last name?"
I looked at her slightly confused, and used my expression to keep them company as I thought of one. "Engel."
"Nat's not gonna' do a whole background check on you, she just has a habit of calling people by their last name."
"You live with Dante, right?" Andrea asked as she played with the loose silver band on her ring finger, a red gem in the shape of a heart in the middle of it. I nodded softly at her. "Well...it's nice to meet you, I'm Andrea."
I tried giving an ear to the two mens' conversation, but the others kept talking over them.
"Likewise." I smiled at the blonde as Natalie rolled her eyes at her sudden wheedling.
"Engel, you looking to join the infamous Crimson?"
I shook my head firmly, "Dante wouldn't let me, and my...mom would kill me."
"Nat, stop trying to spoil him. I prefer him like this." Sorra hopped down from the lid of the green bin, and sauntered over to me, slinging an arm over my shoulder. "Isn't Luka the prettiest boy you've ever seen?"
"He's definitely fucking prettier than most girls I've seen."
Nikolai put his pink tongue betwixt his teeth, the silver piercing on it pressed against his front teeth. "You're not wrong about that...I guess."
I unbound an embarrassed smile, "Erm, where's Claude?"
"At his rich people house, he's packing his clothes because he's leaving in six da-" She paused unexpectedly, making me look over at her. "Is that a hickey!?"
My face had become indistinguishable from the red stone on Andrea's finger. I had completely forgotten! I swiftly slapped my palm onto the red bruise, but Sorra's almond eyes were already gruntled.
"And it's heart-shaped too!?"
The brunet was struggling to contain a chuckle after seeing the freakish smirk on the woman's face, and the blush upon my face. "Take some notes Natalie. His woman makes you look bad."
Andrea smiled slightly at me, her arms still crossed. "Who's the lucky girl?"
I wasn't sure what to say in response. What would they do if they were to find out it was Mammon?
"I'd rather...keep it a secret. We're not...really official yet."
Natalie scoffed. "And she's fucking giving you hickeys like that? I say make it official Engel."
"Yeah! And then let us meet the girl!" Sorra slipped away, and threw her exposed arms around the tall woman's neck, almost like they were pretending to be my parents.
"Yeah, I'll make sure she don't do anything bitchy or snake-ie," Natalie corroborated, holding up her volatile fist.
"Speaking about...girlfriends," the blonde interjected. "Have you seen Dante's girlfriend? If he even has one.."
I could hear the other three grumble mentally, and I didn't blame them for it.
"I haven't...seen her, but I know he has one."
"Andrea, seriously, just get off Dante's ass! I know you love him but you deserve someone who loves you the same way! Stop chasing him, and work on yoursel-"
"Dante does love me! He's just confused, that's why he's even leaving Crimson in the first place!" she shrieked. "And don't pull that 'work on yourself', I know you'd do the same with Natalie if she broke up with you!"
The short-haired woman's expression fell apart before glancing at me, the pieces of her smile and the happiness in her brown eyes being heaved by gravity. She was in a relationship with Natalie? Sorra stared at the ground as the ice on her eyes began to melt, which motored the brunet and Natalie into a rage. Did she think I would judge her?...
"That's fucking it Volker! I'm goin' wrench you like the fucking slut you ar-"
I started running to the other side of the alley—and not because of what was happening between the two. The pair of demons had been yelling quietly at one another, and it had remained unabated until...a loud smack. And then a thud. And then a silence. The scent of fresh blood leeched my nose as I took a left turn, the confused footsteps of the disowned group behind me. My prayers had gotten lodged in my throat on the way out as I decelerated. Discorded gasps had erupted from the alley.
I felt sick.
He was kneeling on the ground...doubled-over as he clutched his bleeding nose. Dense, mahogany blood was oozing through his spread out hands, and drizzled the ground along with his black trousers. The ill sound of the thick liquid dropping onto the hard stone, replayed over and over in my mind.
Plop.
Plop.
"Dante...," I whispered hoarsely.
"Victor!"
"Vogel!"
"Dan, what the fuck!?"
Mammon stood over the bruised man, his tightened hands imbrued with blood, and his shoulders bobbing up and down as he breathed heavily. The way Victor was knelt, it was almost like he was submitting to him. His milky bandages now soused with his own blood. God, he couldn't have done this...
The others had charged towards Victor, but I stayed behind, my limbs frozen. The raven-haired looked at me, his hands out in front of him, before he rushed to my insensated body. "What did you do?..."
"Dante!" Andrea exclaimed as she tried sprinting to him, but the brunet held her back.
The raven-haired snatched my wrist and absconded the alley with me, still caught in disbelief. His grey eyes were in distress, so much distress, and his teeth were clenched. The raven-haired was in so much agony, practically dripping with pain.
I could do nothing but run with him.