by A. J. Norris
Snap.
Something broke. When nothing moved or became angry, he shrugged. He looked all around. Tall outgrowths stood on all sides of him. The tops were covered in green. Going by the angel’s description these were called trees, and the green were leaves. He smiled in spite of himself.
A breeze whistled past, rustling the leaves and swaying the tree branches. A bright light shone from above. He looked up at the source and abruptly looked away.
Ow!
The yellow disk hurt his eyes. Spots compromised his vision. He blinked rapidly.
Never look at that again.
Aza’zel inhaled. The scents of Earth reminded him of the Redeemer. Fresh. Crisp. Elliott’s smell had been buried underneath the stench of Netherworld. But he could still smell the angel.
At a distance behind him, he heard voices, both male and female. Odder yet, a high pitched squeal cut through the forest. As quietly as possible he followed the sounds, instinctively knowing not to get too close. Four humans were gathered in a clearing where no trees were growing. They were exposed to the disk in the sky. He took a deep breath and smelled something that made his mouth water.
Food.
He hid behind a tree at the edge of the meadow and peered at them. Two smaller females, he could tell by scent, were chasing each other in a circle around two adults. The couple was holding hands. A family. He’d heard of those. He leaned further out from the tree.
One of the little females spotted him and stopped. He froze. She cocked her head to the side, uncertain of what she was seeing.
The demon moved his eyes to observe her family. Their attention was diverted to their other child. He looked back at her. She walked a few paces closer to him. Then more. More still.
No, don’t come any closer.
He didn’t trust himself. His life hadn’t been one of tranquility and kindness, but of cruelty and torment. The only thing he knew for certain in this moment was that he wasn’t going to harm her. However, his demon had other plans.
His muscles twitched. Sweat broke out. His claws lengthened.
No!
He turned away, ready to run, and then faced her again. A cleft hoof pawed the dirt. Fists balled at his sides. “Don’t come any closer.”
She extended a palm out. “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you.”
So innocent.
The child inched forward. He lurched toward her with a low growl, about to trounce when she yelped and ran away.
And he did the same.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
Aza’zel
Aza’zel ran away like a little girl with his tail between his legs. He leaped up through the portal, landing chest first on the stone. The irony of what he’d run from and what he ran back to wasn’t something he missed. A child had scared him. No. He could have ripped her to shreds before she ever made a sound. What his demon side was capable of doing while he wasn’t paying attention was what terrified him.
Pacing around the dim cavern, he argued with himself about the pros and cons of returning to Earth. In the end the need to taste grass and find cool water won out. He held his breath and pushed through the clear membrane.
The yellow disk was closer to the horizon. It was darkening. He hoped this meant eventually the realm would become lighter again. This made sense to him.
A twig snapped. He stopped and listened, his heart pounding. Leaves rustled. He caught a scent and inhaled. It was animal, not human—a spindly four legged beast with a short white tail and two spikes sticking out of the top its head.
The creature brought its head up and sniffed the air. For a moment it stared at him then went back to chewing on whatever vegetation it had found on the forest floor. Aza’zel kicked at some branches and dried leaves with a hoof. He heard a gasp behind him.
“I know who you are.”
Not good.
His eyes widened as he turned around to find that same young girl from before gaping at him.
Stay calm. She won’t hurt you and you won’t hurt her.
“You do?”
“Yeah, you’re Pan. The God of—”
“No I’m not, go away.” He shooed her away with a flick of his wrists.
“Uh huh,” she said smugly, setting her chin. “I’ve been reading about you in school.”
“Doubt you’ve read about me!” he yelled with a raucous sounding voice meant to frighten her.
The girl cringed; her hair was blown back by the wind created by his bellow. She stood there staring up at him although she was trembling now. “I-I’m not s-scared of you, Pan.”
Baffled by the girl, he shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not this Pan of which you—”
“Yes you are. Goat feet, furry legs, only…where do you keep your pan-flute?”
“Pan? Flute?”
She eyed the amulet he wore by a leather cord. “What’s that around your neck? It’s pretty.” She stepped forward. He recoiled, not wanting to be touched. He fingered the object around his neck.
“Julia! Julia!” her mother called from a distance, but couldn’t be seen.
“Over here!”
Twigs snapped as Julia’s mother worked her way toward her daughter. “Oh, there you are. What are you doing out here by yourself?”
“Talking to Pan, Mama.” The little girl turned around to show her mother her new friend. But he’d disappeared.
“Come on, honey,” her mother told her and started to lead them back to the rest of their family. Julia hung back for a moment.
Just above the horizon, the last of the sunlight filtered through the trees. The rays glinted off something metal on a moss covered boulder, catching the girl’s eye. “Coming,” she said grabbing the necklace.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
Elliott
Another deal was struck for Amalya’s soul. She’d been poisoned and only the Devil could remove the venom. And Aba wasn’t just going to let her go even though he no longer had an interest in her soul. He had had a smug look on his face after coming to amenable terms with Deus. Elliott wondered what trick the Devil was hiding beneath his satisfied grin. No doubt he had a plan already in place if things had gone sour on the first deal with Deus. He’d want to ensure he’d ultimately win the game they liked to play with people’s souls.
Elliott didn’t blame Deus, he just didn’t understand why He felt these contests were necessary. However, there always was some lesson the Creator wanted a soul to learn first before they could be set free. Elliott thought there could be a better way.
Amalya and Elliott couldn’t leave Netherworld right away. Amalya’s blue flamed sword wound would need to heal and the Devil’s healing baths were the only cure. He was just glad the wound had occurred in this realm. On Earth, she would have wasted away to dust with Abaddon’s poison still pumping through her veins.
Abaddon escorted them to the baths and agreed to allow them use of the pools without any interruptions. He would also open a portal to Earth for easier passage home. This was all the more reason Elliott feared what Abaddon would do to keep Amalya from breaking free of him.
Elliott carried her limp body into the baths room. When he swung the door open he expected something would jump out at them. Nothing did, and the sconces lit one at a time as he walked inside, stepping on what felt like smooth stones. Around the room little piles of cracked red marble lay on the floor. Further inside near the pool toward the back of the room was a snake of some sort with dried blood beneath its body. What had gone on in here? He didn’t really want an explanation, he only wanted to get Amalya into the first bath. Abaddon had told him to use the first one only. Elliott thought maybe he shouldn’t trust the Demon Ruler, but now he thought it would be the best idea to at least this one time, follow the direction. Her wound was nasty. A deep red clot had formed over the hole in her flesh.
Amalya groaned when he laid her down beside the pool closest to the door. He was careful with her wings
, making sure they weren’t in an uncomfortable position. The dress she wore needed to come off. Elliott groaned. Her beauty astounded him. He said a small apology aloud.
“Forgive me.”
He tried to make getting her dress off quick, but her clothing was tighter than he thought and the fabric didn’t have a lot of give. He slid her dress down starting with the shoulders, averting his eyes by turning his head. Unfortunately, he had to keep glancing back at her body as he went. His breath caught each time he looked and he had to swallow hard.
He tossed the dress aside and when it disappeared a clean one returned, along with another pair of shoes. Elliott hated the idea of putting the same frock back on her, even if it was new. Abaddon had given her the dress.
Forget about it. She needs something to wear.
The wingless angel jumped into the mineral bath, careful not the get his wounds on his back wet. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he did. The water only came up to just above the middle of his abdomen. Carefully he scooped Amalya up and held her below the surface, cradling her head so it stayed above the water. Her arms floated out from her sides and her hair spread out around her head. She had dark hair, almost black, and pale skin the color of fine porcelain. Her lips were a naturally deep pink shade. He tried his best not to look at the rest of her body; however, her breasts were full but tight, a sign of her youth. He guessed her to be in her early twenties.
Elliott smiled to himself. His own age couldn’t be determined exactly although he looked to be about thirty in human years. He would never age as he was immortal and would never truly die. Angels only moved on to a higher plane of existence once stricken from the Earth. The rumor was, once you achieved this nobler existence you gained the ability to choose where you wanted to spend your time, provided Deus agreed. He didn’t always agree. You could return to field service work or stay on the next level. Like all other angels at his current station, Elliott wasn’t privy to what the higher levels were like. He’d never heard of anyone choosing to return to Earth for field service work. He definitely wouldn’t, given the option. The higher stations were what every angel worked toward. Currently, he was under his field-service obligation of fulfilling tasks given to him by Deus. Even though the Creator “killed” him to send him to Netherworld, he knew he hadn’t achieved a higher plane. This required a self-sacrifice of your own free will. Oh, and this sacrifice had parameters that only Deus knew, otherwise there would be no angels left to serve.
Amalya’s eyes fluttered for a moment. Elliott became hopeful she was starting to wake up. However, her chest wound had barely begun to close. He knew the blue flame injury would require more time to heal than any other inflicted. He blew out a breath and waited to the point he questioned whether or not the minerals were actually doing anything other than wasting their time. It was possible this was a trick to get them to stay longer than necessary.
Everything here is a lie.
Elliott brought a knee up to balance Amalya and raised his hand out of the pool. The water made a tinkling sound. His fingertips were raisins. Time for a break or they’d both become Shar Peis. He put her up on the side of the pool and got out too. Glancing around the chamber, he spotted a cabinet and hoped he could find a towel or two stowed in there. He was rewarded.
He laid out a towel and rolled up another for her head and laid Amalya down again. Her eyes fluttered. The appearance of her stab wound still hadn’t changed much. He tried, in a futile attempt he knew wouldn’t work, to pass his light over her chest in hopes he could heal her. No change occurred.
Hours…oh, who was he kidding? Days later, he finally saw some healing had taken place. She moaned in pain and grabbed at her chest, trying to ease the soreness. Her eyes squeezed shut even more than they were already.
“Don’t touch the wound…it’s okay, I know it hurts,” he said softly. A thought had occurred to him many times as he watched her sleep. The water didn’t mend but soothed and therefore aided the healing process. “I’m going to put you back in the water.”
She didn’t appear aware of much except for the pain. Her moans were getting louder.
Once in the pool, Amalya’s contorted expression eased and became contented. He’d done the right thing. He watched her body repair itself. Once the pain hit, the wound healed. Or had this been by design?
Fucking Abaddon.
By now they’d lost ten more years of Earth time, if not more. What the hell was the Demon up to that he needed this extra time? What kind of scheme for Amalya’s soul required twenty years to prepare for? Elliott shook his head. Fear crept inside his soul and stayed there. All Elliott knew was Deus indicated he remain with her until she no longer needed him. He would do so. After that, he wasn’t sure what he’d do or where he’d go.
Elliott dried Amalya off and dressed her; even put the shoes on. He sighed when he picked her up. He couldn’t believe she was still passed out. Hopefully once they were back on Earth she would wake up.
The door to the baths swung open and Abaddon’s massive beast stood out in the hallway. The hideous charcoal monster nodded his head. “Ready?”
“You have to ask?” Elliott and Amalya were ushered forward. The air warped in front of them. The Demon had opened a portal between the realms.
“I opened a door to Earth. Just walk straight. It will take you where you want to go.”
There was a crack like a whip and Elliott’s ass stung; Abaddon had flogged him with his tail.
He grunted and shuffled forward, almost dropping Amalya. One of her shoes fell to the floor. He wasn’t going to waste the time to pick it up. The last thing he heard from the creature before they stepped into the other realm was laughter and, “See ya soon. Real soon.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FOUR
Amalya
Amalya’s fingers splayed out beside her and smoothed over something soft and silky. Her eyelids snapped open, but she couldn’t focus. Something stroked her hair. A white curtain framed her face. Had everything been a nightmare?
“Where am I?”
She blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. The force of gravity had changed. Either that or she’d been paralyzed. “Uh,” she gasped.
“Shhh. It’s okay. You’re safe.”
Elliott’s face came into focus. His long platinum blond hair hung down creating a private world for them. Amalya took a deep breath. Cedar. Fresh lemons. Lavender.
“Am I alive?”
“Yes and no. The good news is we’re out of Netherworld.” He eased his back against an ugly couch.
Amalya didn’t hear anything past ‘yes.’ She smiled. “Really? I’m alive? I’m alive.” She clutched his hand, and with his assistance she sat up a little, getting an instant head rush. She used both his hands to steady herself. Something prevented her from getting her torso fully vertical.
What the…?
Glancing over her shoulder, she sighed. Oh, that. She still had wings. Moaning, she let herself fall back against the green plaid couch.
Lying on her back, she looked up. A faint yellow water spot stained the ceiling where it and the paneled wall met. The paneling from a decorator’s perspective was atrocious, but it had a certain warmth. She glanced around the tiny room which must be an apartment based upon the layout of the place. In addition to the crappy sofa, there was only enough space for a coffee table and one sad looking brown chair with a lever to raise the footrest. Cut out of the wall opposite where she laid was a pass-through to a galley kitchen. There was also a hallway off the room that she assumed led to a bedroom or two. Oh, boy.
Amalya turned her head expecting to see the back of the sofa, but instead of cushions, there was a wall. A gap existed between the seat cushions and the backrest.
This is a weird couch.
Elliott sighed softly. “It’s for wings.”
“What?” She looked up at him.
“The hole in the couch.” He had a distant expression on his face. He began chewing on his fingernails.
“Oh.” She remembered he no longer had any. “Will they grow back?”
“I don’t know,” he whispered between bites.
“Can you, um, er, ask someone?”
“God?”
“Yes, can you ask G-G—?”
What’s wrong with me?
A bit of nail was blown across the room.
“We call him Deus. And no, I didn’t ask.”
“Why not?”
“Because you don’t ask Him these things.”
She furrowed her brow. “You’re supposed to be able to ask Him for things, right?”
He sighed again. “Amalya, just leave it alone. Please.”
“Did the wounds heal?”
“No. Not completely.” He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees.
“Well, that’s a good sign right?”
He chuckled in exasperation. “Amalya…just stop. I don’t want to talk about it.”
She sighed. “All right. How’d we get out of Hell or Netherworld, or whatever that place is called?”
“Deus intervened.”
“What happened?”
“You were there.” Another one of Elliott’s nails went flying.
“Why won’t you just tell me? I didn’t see anything after I passed out. Wait, shit, did I die?”
“You were already dead.”
“Just not spiritually. Yeah, I get it,” she said.
“No one can die spiritually. That’s a load of crap. You can lose your sense of self though. Your body, I guess is a better way of putting it. Even when demons are ‘killed spiritually,’ it’s just their body turning to ash. But their soul lingers and can never be redeemed. It can never leave Netherworld.”
“Aba wanted to do that to you?” She looked at the yellow stain on the ceiling. Anything would be better than watching him propel bits of fingernail across the room.
He scrunched up half his face and tilted his head. “You, actually.”
