"Three weeks, huh?"
The smoke from Akan's cigarette whiffs through the air, a swirling visualization of death.
"Yeah."
"Almost a month."
"I'm aware."
We're seated side-by-side on the bench of the bar, my arm linked with his. He peers down at me with an amused smile. "And you're still holding out on him."
"You sound impressed."
"You're outsmarting the devil. I probably wouldn't last a week."
"It's hard to hate the guy. As much as I want to believe he's the epitome of evil, I can't. He's been patient and gentle with me... even kind."
He passes the cigarette to me, exhaling. "Are you warming to him?"
"Romantically, no. Sometimes in other ways," I admit, reluctantly. "Sometimes when I start to think that it'll only go down from here. Times when I can't help but think I'm never going to see Elijah again."
"I didn't know that was a possibility. You've been so adamant."
"This place weakens me," I mutter bitterly. "But it empowers me too. I don't feel misplaced. I understand why all of this exists. I didn't used to. Samael makes sense... most of the time. Sometimes, he's a fucking lunatic."
The tobacco sits on my tongue, a sickening taste I've come to rely on.
"You seem angry," he observes softly, watching my features twitch with aggravation.
"Elijah doesn't deserve any of this."
"Life isn't fair. Do you think you deserve to suffer this?"
I shrug. "Sometimes. I've done bad things. I've made bad decisions."
He grabs my hand and squeezes it tightly. "You don't. Okay? You don't."
I lay my head on my shoulder, trying to hear him even though I'm trapped in my memories. "It was so much easier before, Akan. Elijah had this way... this way of looking at me. He'd kind of squint, like he were about to blink in sunlight. Only he wouldn't look away. He'd just stare at me, like I was the fucking sun or something."
Christ, the alcohol is getting to me.
I chuckle, flicking the cigarette. "I'm scared I'm... becoming this place. Like Samael."
"Maybe that's not a bad thing. Maybe it's what is supposed to happen."
"He's shown me records, different millenniums that occurred before ours. It's all so similar. Like other worlds. There's so much we don't know, so much more."
"I'd be disappointed if there wasn't."
Our legs dangle over the side of a crumbling building, decrepit and full of beings that have no idea we're on the roof. Overhead is the infinite black void. Somewhere down below, Samael is holding a meeting, one I've opted out of so I don't have to pretend that I don't understand how this all works later on.
"You've really helped me through all of this," I whisper, offering him the cig. "It's easier to think positive with you nearby. You remind me of him... Elijah, I mean."
He smiles, caught off guard. "Really? You think so?"
I nod, leaning back on my palms. "Mmm."
"You know, I always wanted to be him. I wished so many times I could magically choose a new body. He was always so larger than life, like a phantom, a guide of sorts."
"He'd be glad we're together."
Akan slips his hand into mine with a small smile. "Your presence has revived me. I'm indebted to you for your graciousness. I can walk again. I can smile again. I have something to look forward to when this place comes to haunt me."
I look down. "I wish I could take you from here, keep you with me."
"I have debts I must pay."
"Still, maybe you could stay near us. Maybe I could get Samael to agree to it."
He nudges me when my brain begins to spin into overdrive, imagining the way these months would pass with ease with a link to Elijah nearby. "Cassandra, you don't want to test a man like him."
"I think I could persuade him, seriously."
He shakes his head, affectionate but stern. "I made my bed, Cassandra. I must lie in it."
I hang on those words, pondering over them, plotting my next move and then I push back, hopping to my feet. "It couldn't hurt to ask."
"Where are you going?"
"Well he's gotta be wondering where I am by now."
"Don't do anything stupid, alright?" He raises his voice as I jog for the steps. "You already have enough to worry about!"
I wave dismissively, swinging recklessly over the edge of the building onto the rickety ladder that leads down to the ground level. The weeks in eternal damnation have shaped me as a student. I have learnt the ways of the dead, the labyrinth to which they live in reflection and torment. The nooks and corners, the alleys and secret passageways I travel through like a homeland, fearing nothing and no one.
Nearing the gates of Hell where Samael spends most of his days, closed off by an open barrier, surrounded by those of his choosing, I am confronted by swarms, those who believe being near me, touching me, will save them.
Although I can do nothing of the sort, I admire this part of my sentence. When once I used to despair close proximity, strangers, I now embrace their desire for something better than what they've gotten themselves into.
It's almost been a month.
One whole month.
And my smiles are mostly reserved for these spirits, the darkling's of the world.
They can conjure it out of me. As I pass through them, honing in on the textures of their flailing hands—some calloused, some smooth—I whisper to them, trying to look as many of them in the eye as possible without getting dizzy.
My eyes scan the amount of crowd left, stopping over their heads to where Samael stands, waiting for me, his advisors beside him. They are talking to him but he isn't listening. I ease my way through the last of the spirits apologetically, climbing a few stairs with an apologetic expression.
"I'm sorry I'm late."
He smiles, shrugging it off. "Who the hell are you seeing out there anyway?"
"An old friend."
Patiently, he waits for more. It's only when I've stared long enough at the demon by his ear that he understands my silence is due to a lack of privacy. He clears the space near him with dismissive nod, starting down to meet me on the stairs.
"You can trust the advisors, Cassandra."
"I don't even know half of their names."
"Well, if you came to the meetings, you would."
I stare stubbornly at him, and he rolls his eyes, placing his hands on his hips.
"Alright. Who were you with?"
"Akan."
His brows lift. "Akan? The creature who wanted you dead?"
"Granted. He's fucked up a lot."
"I'd say."
"He's become a friend to me, apologized for what he did. I just want to help him."
"With what?"
While I came with no nerves, they've hit me now. I'm hesitant to explain further.
"I want... to keep him close by."
"You mean in our home?"
I have half a mind to refute that statement, but knowing it would make this more difficult, I nod, grimacing when he doesn't instantly say yes.
"What has he done to earn a place among us? What has he learned here?"
"He's asked for forgiveness, Samael. That must mean something."
"Spirits cannot live in the in-between, so what you're suggesting is that he become a demon."
"If that's what it takes, yes."
He looks down, inhaling deeply. "If this is about not wanting to be alone with me..."
I hold up my hands. "It's not that."
I hold his gaze unwaveringly, steady on my course. He doesn't appear to believe me.
"I swear, it isn't," I reiterate.
"Is this about him being the product of your vampire?"
"This is something I feel I need to do. Your advisors are your friends, are they not? You surround yourself with people you trust? Why can't I do that?" I shrug, scoffing. "You want me to be comfortable here—"
He chuckles, softly. "Are you trying to manipulate me?"
Shit. "Is it working?"
"Surprisingly, yes."
I smile, shaking my head. "I'm not saying he get a get-out-of-jail-free card. I'm just saying that I don't want to see my friend suffer, especially one that could do a lot for you. He was once an intelligence agent, you know."
"Alright."
"I mean, he could—" I pause, absorbing his answer, shocked. "Alright?"
He gestures back, hailing the attention of Grey, his closest advisor. "Mmm."
"Yes?"
He nods. "Yes."
Grey stops beside him. "Master?"
"Make a note that Akan shall be moved to the fifth tomorrow. Have someone send for him then. He will be a new addition to the household."
"Yes. Of course."
Grey backs from Samael, head down, jotting the note. I look between them both, stunned, elated, relieved.
"It means a lot to me that you're going to do this," I say genuinely.
"I'm not," he replies, adjusting his cuff links. I'm confused until he meets my gaze with an amused expression. "You are."
"I—what?"
"You are going to convert him."
"How hard will that be?"
"You'll trace the sigil of Abyss on his forehead with water that's touched your flesh. He will be marked with divinity, and granted freedom from the prison of the underworld. It is no small undertaking. He will be immortal, given tasks he must abide by."
I walk into him, startling even myself, arms wrapped around him tightly in my excitement. "Thank you, Samael."
He embraces me back after a moment, his hand settling unsurely against my back. He laughs after a moment. "I must truly be a bore if you are this in need of a friend."
"It's not that." I pull back, realizing I just willingly hugged the devil. "He's just familiar."
Grey is beside Samael again, a newly-arisen scowl of concern on his ageless face. "A demon has gone off book. She was assigned to a single politician, but ventured further into the senate. There was a riot that ensued in protest. Hundreds are dead."
Samael doesn't even blink. "Who?"
Grey glances to me, warily, clearly unsure of relaying the information in front of me.
"You can speak freely, Grey. Go on," Samael insists.
"It was Angelica, my Lord."
Angelica.
Elijah's Angelica? Could it be her?
"Bring her to the fifth immediately."
"Right away."
Grey turns, snapping at the others to disperse on their mission. Samael faces me, his lips tight in contemplation.
"By Angelica you mean..."
He nods. "Yes, oddly enough, I'm dealing with two of de Ricci's vamps today." He places a hand against my spine. "Come. It will not take them long to retrieve her. We will await her arrival."
***
"I'm getting tired of her antics," Samael grumbles beside me.
The judgment room is another portion of the Fifth Heaven I am just now seeing for my own eyes. Empty and haunting, it's exactly where I would expect the devil to look down upon his unfortunate subjects. The grandeur continues through every room I enter, and this is no different. Behind us is a throne of stone, ancient and mined to ominous perfection.
"She's done this before, huh?"
"Not a detour of this magnitude. I allow liberties, but those deaths weren't meant to be taken."
His necessity for order marvels me. "Is she going to be punished?"
He eyes me with curiosity. "Do you think she should be punished?"
"I was merely asking."
"Noted. Still, the question remains."
I roll my eyes with a shrug. "I'm biased, so that's probably not the best question to ask me personally."
"Right." He diverts his eyes. "She's your lover's ex."
"From what I've heard of her, she was vicious."
"That is the truth."
"Then why the hell do you keep her near you? Akan told me she lives here."
He chuckles. "Oh, did he?"
"Why haven't I seen her?"
"Because she's been on earth, influencing the orders I've given her. She isn't permitted near me simply because she is attractive. She must be of use."
"So you and her are—"
"Nothing. I find her approach aggressive and obtuse. She thinks she's powerful and unique when in actuality, anyone can replace her. I will not be made to look a fool."
"So, you are planning to punish her?"
He smiles, exhaling. "I haven't decided yet."
I stifle my laughter with my hand, shaking my head in disbelief. "I can't believe you're smiling at that thought."
"She's playing games. I can too."
"Does she know who I am?"
"Yes."
"No, I mean... does she know who I am to Elijah?"
"I doubt it. I haven't spoken of it." He grins. "So this should be a stimulating conversation, to say the least."
The advisor Grey appears in the entranceway and with one nod from Samael, he ushers a beautiful woman into the room. I've seen this face only once before: in a picture tucked into a gold pocket watch belonging to Elijah. Her features are as stubborn and menacingly beautiful now as they were in that picture, photographed many centuries ago.
Unlike her appearance in the 17th century, her hair is cropped short, almost pixie-like, which makes the bone-structure on her thin face poke through the unblemished flesh. She looks more human than vampire or demon. While looking at her, I suddenly realize, despite her beauty, there isn't anything particularly memorable about her. At first glance, she is rather ordinary.
The way her eyes zero in enviously on my face, and then my body, and then to Samael's close proximity to me ignites a flare of defiance within me, and an egotistical smile forms on my lips.
Her mouth twitches with annoyance, her line of sight moving to Samael. Standing at the top of the stairs, with every step she takes, his authority grows.
"Do you know why you are here?" Samael asks her, his tone shrill.
"It wasn't my fault. I asked Matos to help me and—"
"I don't want your excuses."
"But he was the one who arranged the meeting!"
"Curious how he has said the same thing of you. He says he tried to sway you but your mind was made up. He said it's your fault that we have to claim two-hundred souls before they were ready."
"And you believe him? Really?"
Samael shrugs, arrogantly. "Why wouldn't I? You've done this before. You have gone against me before."
"Samael—"
He takes a single eerie step. "You do realize that is what you are doing, right? You are trying to provoke me... I must admit it's working."
She looks down, nervous. How such a hard-looking woman could become so tense in a matter of seconds is startling. My eyes move between them, immersed in the tension.
This woman murdered children for fun. She deserves my disliking.
The fact that she's fucked Elijah doesn't help her either.
"I was just trying to get your attention. I thought you'd be glad for it. The guy was going to cave to congress anyway! We wouldn't have gotten anything out of it—"
"That was not your decision to make! I have given you immortality, freedom, wealth and comfort and I ask for very little. I ask that you complete what I assign you exactly as I have orchestrated it. The strikes against you have continued and I'm finding it very hard to be lenient with you. Now, because of what you've done, Jehovah is insinuating that I'm trying to rupture the cycle!"
She glances at me with disgust. "He is only saying that because of how you went about getting this one to you—"
I flinch at how fast Samael reaches the bottom of the stairs, how tightly he has wound his fingers around her throat. Her feet are raised a few inches off the ground, dangling as she tries to pry herself loose from his vice-tight grip.
"You will address her with respect or I will, I swear, make you live to regret it."
He releases her and she lands on her feet, stumbling back unevenly. She covers her throat, wide-eyed. I thought I'd be more appalled seeing Samael punish someone, but in reality, I've done this more than once since inheriting my powers.
"Do it now," he demands gruffly.
"Forgive me... Mistress," she whispers, bowing her head reluctantly.
"You will be confined to the grounds until I decide what to do with you," he says, glaring down at her. There's hints of defiance in her gaze, a natural-born maliciousness that cannot be extinguished. It's there even under duress.
She lives up to Elijah's description.
Grey appears hesitantly in the doorway which earns him a glare of forbiddance from his master. He grimaces, speaking up. "My Lord?"
"What?"
"You're needed below. A skirmish."
"Can it wait?"
"I fear not."
Samael sighs and his shoulders deflate, releasing the pent-up anger that has made him stiff. "Grey, take Angelica to her room. She is not to leave until I've allowed it."
"Of course, my—"
"I can walk her."
At my unexpected suggestion, Samael's eyes flicker to mine, shocked. The pretty demon's eyes similarly react. I can't tell whether it's confidence or hatred that's made me so bold, but Samael doesn't seem to care either way.
His features become alight with mischief, amused by the secret connection I share with this woman, knowledge that we are only party to. "Very well. The guards will show you where she needs to be."
He follows Grey out of the echoing room with a command to his steps, leaving an aura that is still hovering over us long after he's gone.
"My name is Cassandra," I utter, taking my time descending the steps.
As I get closer, I notice her hair is more of a strawberry-blonde color, and she has light freckles trickled along the bridge of her nose. Her eyes are red, the eyes of a demon.
"Angelica," she answers dutifully.
"I've been waiting for this day, although I can't say I've been eager for it."
"You've been waiting to meet me?"
She grimaces in confusion as I hold out my arm, waiting for her to walk on before I move any further. I'm quite comfortable walking behind her, staring at the back of her head as I link our connection publicly.
"We have a similar acquaintance."
"Is that so?"
"Mmm. But not here. On earth."
She tilts her head to the side, frowning. "I'm not familiar with many humans—"
"No, you knew him as Lyle. I know him as Elijah. Elijah de Ricci."
She stops in her tracks, and pettily, my smile widens. My eyes could burn a hole through the back of her skull. When she finally turns, her features are wary, crest-fallen.
"Lyle?"
"He goes by his given name now."
She blinks, seeming to be processing the information. Suddenly, her mouth falls open. "Wait. That was you? The tribunal... his death?"
"Yes."
"I thought that the resurrection gossip were rumors. He's living?"
"As much as a vampire can live, yes."
"Are the rest of the rumors true?" She's bristling. "Are you and him... are you—"
"In love?"
Her mouth slams shut, anxiously. "Well, are you?"
I circle around her slowly, successfully unnerving her. "Love is too tame a word for what we feel. He is my reason for being, and I am his."
Her eyes slim. "It's curious... He was never one for monogamy."
"When he was with you, I don't doubt it."
The insult infuriates her, but she bites back any insult she was going to unload.
"We're bound before time. Do you know what that means?"
She clearly does.
"I don't believe you."
"Why not?"
"Because you're a goddess. You could be playing on my fears."
"Is that a fear of yours? That he'd fall in love?"
"Of course it is. He was my creator. We loved each other..."
I hiss. "He never loved you."
I cannot help the cruel way that comes out, the harsh defensive tone to my voice. It's uncontrollable, this desire to harm her. For a fleeting moment, she's stripped of any confidence, left to wonder how much I know.
"He cared for you as a creator would care for it's creation. But you abused his position, a trait you've adopted here as well it would seem. You drained him of his compassion and goodliness and drove him with no other option than to destroy you."
The guards are watching her closely now. She's shaking. She's losing it.
With hostility, I revel in the squirms.
"He speaks of you as a caution, Angelica. That is what you've left him with."
She steps up to me, eye to eye. "You think you're big and bad, don't you? Almighty, huh?"
I smirk. "Actually, yes. I do."
"Yeah, well I don't answer to you. I answer to him and he will hear of this."
"And you think Samael will defend you?"
"Either way, he'll hear it."
"Try it. Be my guest."
I sensed the spike to her energy long before her feet charge for a fight. The guards barely have their hands out to grab her before I'm gripping her arms, slamming her into the ground which cracks under the force of her body, rendering her immobile.
"And for the record, you do answer to me. You come at me again and I will end you. You can call this warning whatever you like, but I'll say it's a mark of territory. Try to fuck with me or anyone I love and you'll wish I'd dropped you in Hell."
She's a hard one. She holds my gaze, her red eyes full of deviance.
"Do we understand one another?"
Her nod is delayed, but she does it. I push off of her, straightening, watching her pick herself off the ground. There's a clear, crumbled crack in the shiny floor.
She glares at me, scoffing, rubbing the place where my hands constricted her. "So, we're not going to be friends then, I'm guessing?"
I push back my hair with my hands. "That is right. Last person that I want as a friend is a person who kills for fun."
"You should try it sometime. You might like it. You've clearly got the rage."
Dismissively, I nod to the guards, who grab her arms forcefully, hauling her the rest of the way on their own. I watch until they've thrust her into a room at the end of the hallway and locked her inside, and then look down at my trembling hands.
With her presence gone, the rage has begun to disappear too.
The crack in the ground. The marks on her arms. The looks on the guards faces.
This consuming darkness—it comes with the place.
I fed it without a problem.