Ezra first ventured to the nearest city from Wileshire village. It was thirty miles away, and daunting. Ezra put his hood up and stood in the shadows of a quiet backstreet road. The hour was late, but he knew the person he had to find would still be awake.
Quietly, he moved down the street, lowering his head when he passed a human. His barbed wire tattoo was covered by black cloth, but covering it was just as much of a giveaway, showing he had something to hide.
He looked like he was up to no good, but Ezra pressed on, not meeting anyone's gaze. He missed the comfort of Wileshire village. That was something he never thought he would ever think again. He had started to loathe the place over the years.
Tom had made it feel like home again, and Ezra pursed his lips, thinking of him lying alone in his bed. He missed him already, and they had barely been apart an hour.
He shook Tom from his thought. He needed to focus, and to make sure he went in the right direction. He had spent a bit of time in the city when he was first condemned. The place was large enough to hide, and to be swallowed up in the sea of people. He couldn't cope with being around people who thought they knew him, so being around strangers was better.
Ezra grimaced at the memory of when the first angel came with soul stripper duties. She knew him, and the pity in her eyes was mortifying. Ezra had almost given in then, and asked for them to take his soul, and that he couldn't do it, he couldn't live that way.
But he had pressed on, hoping that the killer would one day be found, and he would live the life he had always meant to live.
Ezra stopped in another dark corner. He took deep breaths and thought of Tom again. I have someone to go back to. I have a home now. I will be free in a week. I'll be free.
Ezra pressed on.
He walked for miles. Each street had an uncomfortable memory from his past. The thought of going home to Tom kept them at bay.
Soon, he stopped outside a red door with a golden knocker in the middle. He chewed his bottom lip, wondering if he was doing the right thing. His gut churned as he knocked three times, and stared at the doorbell that was a little lower than his eyelevel.
"Name," a voice demanded from the speaker.
Ezra looked around. The street behind him was empty. "Ezrakhell," he said, and there was a pause. For a moment, he wondered if they would buzz him in. He almost hoped they would turn him away, until the door unlocked, and another demon greeted him with a glare.
"Inside, now," she demanded, yanking on his arm and slamming the door behind him. "You're either really brave or really goddamn stupid for returning here, Ezrakhell."
"I have a serious matter to discuss with Jevlo," Ezra said bluntly, keeping his hood over his eyes, knowing they would show his nerves.
"What is it?"
"None of your business."
She held her hands up, and her long purple plait fell over her shoulder. "Still as bitter as ever." She guided him down a poorly lit corridor with walls of dark oak and floors to match. She pulled a black curtain aside to reveal another dark room, set up to intimidate visitors.
Two brown leather chairs faced the door, leaving a big concrete floor to open up in front of them. The floor was stained, and Ezra knew it was with blood.
He had entered a dangerous place. Jevlo was a dangerous demon who manipulated humans into doing his dirty work. His network was big, and the angels would have a riot on their hands if they tried to break it apart.
Ezra hated him. And he assumed that Jevlo still hated him too.
"Mizee, you're interrupting," a nasally voice snapped.
"For good reason," Mizee, the demon who had escorted Ezra replied. She bowed and pointed. "Ezrakhell has paid you a visit."
With one last calming breath, Ezra lowered his hood, and removed the cloth covering his demon mark. He stared blankly at Jevlo, hiding his surprise by how much he had changed. Ezra hadn't seen him in almost seventy years. Jevlo had aged. He had once stood tall and strong, with a forecious frown to go with his intimidating presence. Now, he looked frail, old, and tired as he hunched over in a chair that swallowed his small frame.
"Ezrakhell," Jevlo said, trailing him up and down careful. "Well look at you. You were just a boy when I last saw you, and a lot smaller than you are now."
"I'm here to discuss a serious matter," Ezra said bluntly.
"Still a demon I see," Jevlo said, getting to his feet and hobbling over slowly. He had once been taller than Ezra, and he now towered over him, with arms strong enough to send his head rolling from his shoulders.
"I'm here to discuss-"
"A serious matter. Yes, I heard you. " Jevlo stopped right in front of him. "Let me look at you." His sunken eyes were still as menacing as ever. But Ezra forced himself to hold the stare. He wasn't that vengeful young boy anymore. Jevlo had no hold over him anymore. "The last time you were in this room, you were taking my son's soul."
He might have no hold over him, but he was still a grieving, vengeful, dangerous demon. "And the last time I was in this room, you told me you would crush my skull with your bare hands if you ever saw me again."
"I did, didn't I." Jevlo's eyes darkened. "How dare you come back here."
"Trust me, I wouldn't be here unless I had no choice." Ezra hoped that his nerves were well hidden. His only advantage was how big he had grown to be. If things turned sour, he could get himself out.
"What could be so serious to make Ezrakhell, the fake demon, my son's murderer, would come back here?"
Ezra felt something inside of him start to boil. "Your son deserved it," he said before he could stop himself. Seventy years ago, Ezra had once been a part of his operation. But he had discovered that Jevlo's son was a psychopath, tempting humans to take their own lives. So Ezrakhell took his soul and left with a price on his head. That was when he settled into his soul stripper duties, seeking out the rare satisfying ones where demon or humans deserved their fate.
Jevlo's lip twitched with anger. "Have you come here to die? Is that what this is? Has the innocent little Ezrakhell finally given up with being so righteous?"
"I'm here to discuss a serious matter," Ezra said in a monotone voice, swallowing his anger. "There has been a rise in violence against demons for years now. I need to know if you have heard anything or noticed anything."
Jevlo returned to his seat, plopping himself down heavily. "How is that a serious matter?"
"Because I think the angels are to blame."
Everyone in the room stared at Jevlo to see his reaction. Ezra saw it, the uncommon glimmer of interest in his dull eyes. "Is that so," he mumbled, rubbing his chin. "How?"
"Their choirs."
Mizee stepped closer, raising her eyebrows. "I hear them in the night, all the time."
"And it makes you angry, right? Angrier than usual?" Ezra asked.
Mizee nodded. "Do you think they're doing it on purpose to make us angry? Then we lash out and they take our souls?"
"Yes, but I think it's making humans dream bad things about demons, to fuel the hatred."
Jevlo sat forwards, still rubbing his chin. "How do you know this?"
"Observation." Ezra crossed his arms. "And I'm spreading the rumour. But this has to be kept quiet. If it is the angels, we can't let them know that we know."
"What if it's not the angels?" Mizee asked.
"Then I'm wrong."
"Like how you were wrong to take my son's soul," Jevlo spat.
"I'm not here to talk about that," Ezra said carefully. "I've said what I had to say. Do your own research, but there's something going on, and we need to fix this."
"We?" Jevlo scoffed. "You're not one of us. I took you under my wing because I felt sorry for you, and you betrayed my trust. Ezrakhell, you've made a mistake by coming back here. You thought your news would outweigh my hatred for you, but you were wrong. I'll get my revenge now."
Strong hands suddenly clamped down on Ezra's arms and shoulders. He snapped his head from left to right. Two large demons held him, so if he tried to vanish, they would vanish with him.
Ezra had expected some sort of a fight. He had a feeling he wouldn't get out without sore knuckles. "You've made a mistake by assuming I still can't defend myself," he said coldly. "Don't waste two healthy demons. Let me walk out of here."
Jevlo scoffed again. "No, I don't think I will. You always said you deserved justice. Now it's my turn." He clicked his fingers, and the demon on his left shoved his foot behind Ezra's knee, forcing him to kneel.
"I've warned you," Ezra said calmly, looking back and forth between the two demons. They didn't let go of him, and Ezra sighed disappointedly, knowing he wasn't getting out without a fight.