Desire From Hell

by Avery Rae

  Earth wasn't, though. The Druids were summoning more souls than ever before. To what end? I didn't know. They probably didn't either. Honestly, we all thought with Lilith gone and no longer stirring up shit, things would even out. But it was getting worse with each passing day. A problem I made worse every single day I kept Hazel hidden away from the Brotherhood. Not that it stopped me.

  "Whoa, you ain't even going to say hi?" Amberlynn called out as I started up the stairs. "We've got chicken."

  "You really think that's going to work on him?" Lucas replied with a laugh. But he was wrong to be laughing. Because I had just been shoved away by the one woman I'd ever wished I could stay with longer than a night.

  So, fuck it all, I was going to eat some chicken and pretend my world wasn't crashing down around me. Demons didn't need to eat, and I didn't care to do it often. Food was never my thing. I was more of an alcohol and beautiful women kind of guy back in my time.

  When I sat down in the armchair next to the coffee table and grabbed myself a leg, Amberlynn jerked her head up in surprise. "Are you seriously going to—agh!"

  "Are you actually choking right now?" Lucas asked in disbelief. She nodded vigorously, and he gave her a disappointed whack on the back. "How old are you?"

  She spat out the chicken and glared at him. "Thank you, but also bite me. And have some respect. I'm technically old enough to be your mother."

  I smirked and leaned back in the armchair, chewing on my chicken. It was much greasier than I remembered. And, unlike alcohol, it wasn't helping me to forget a single thing about my day. But alcohol didn't do shit for me anymore. Poisoning yourself into sweet oblivion wasn't that effective when your body healed itself constantly.

  "Good thing you weren't his mother," I said between bites, "because Lucas would've turned out even worse than he did."

  Instead of saying anything to me, Amberlynn leaned toward Lucas, her heavily belted leather outfit creaking with each movement. She loudly whispered to him, "I haven't seen him like this since we imprisoned Lilith. You think he killed someone?"

  Lucas leaned his massive bulk a little closer and whispered back, "Nah, he wouldn't risk it. Maybe he cracked his head on something?"

  I splayed my free hand out. "I'm right here. You could just ask me."

  "Yeah, Edwin," Amberlynn drawled, "that's the point, ain't it? You're here. Normally you're elsewhere, mentally or physically. You don't do social. You grudgingly exist in the company of others, y'know?"

  I lifted a brow as I chewed. She wasn't wrong. But it felt as if my blood was vibrating. I couldn't stomach being alone right now. Normally, I preferred the quiet, or to just observe others, but all I could fucking think about was that angel's stupid face. I wouldn't calm down until I did something about him. He was ruining the one thing that brought me peace.

  "I've got a question for you two." I tossed the cleaned bone on top of theirs and sat back in the armchair. "Do either of you know how to kill an angel?"

  5

  Hazel

  As much as I wanted to stay at home and mope after Edwin left, I had a meeting to attend that night. It was my weekly reminder that my life could never be like that of any of the people milling around me. Each time I stepped outside, it was like plunging underwater. Everything was muffled and distorted. I tried to swim to the surface, to reach the light and sound, but I never could. I had a feeling I would never be able to.

  This is my life. I sighed as I stood on the sidewalk outside Earthen Roast Café, its warm yellow glow diffusing into the cool, dark night. It looked wonderful and inviting—it was a lie. Much like everything else in my life. I lied to everyone I met because I had to in order to protect my clan—and I lied to my clan because I hated that I had to protect it. Because it didn't make me happy. Edwin made me happy. Nathaniel made me happy. Meeting with my clan made me miserable because they told us time and time again we had to deny ourselves the world, and they made me feel guilty for wanting to explore it.

  Yet, when I entered the café, I couldn't help but smile as the scent of espresso and pastries surrounded me. I enjoyed what semblance of normalcy it offered. Abby was behind the counter. She looked up from the register, checked to make sure nobody was looking, then waved a greeting.

  I hated that we had to pretend we weren't friends. She was the only one I had. It would be nice if we could sit in this very café and enjoy a drink together. But that would never happen. Not in this lifetime. However long we had left. Losing her was going to be hard on me.

  Not that it was ever easy in my experience. Each loss tore away a little piece of my heart, leaving a pitiful, forever hemorrhaging mess behind. The Elders would tell me I only suffered because I couldn't see their sacrifice for the honor it was. So I said nothing. I kept to myself in true Druid fashion. I was afraid to ask questions because I feared that either they would turn me away, or the answers themselves would turn me away from our cause even more than I already had.

  I had so many doubts that I couldn't share. I wondered how many of the others questioned what we were doing. We all feigned ignorance at what we did. We had seen the souls we summoned do terrible things—they weren't all coming from a good place, that much was clear. Some had dared to ask questions, their voices wavering, but we were only reassured that the balance is complicated. It's not black or white. It's both. The good and the bad. And if the souls kill a few humans, well, that's just a bonus. The Earth would be pleased.

  Besides, Abby had assured me more than once that she was excited for her chance to volunteer. She dedicated her every waking moment to the cause. We had no scripture, our traditions were strictly oral and passed through generations, but she was the type who would study it if we did. Sometimes I wondered if I would feel the same if I had to work at a Druid establishment like she did. She was entirely separated from it.

  I didn't know how she did it, though, because I couldn't stomach the thought of lying more than I already did. Playing the role of perky cashier girl with a totally normal life. It didn't come easily to me. My stomach flip-flopped each time I had to. Sometimes, I wondered what I would've been like if I hadn't been born into my family. If I had been normal—without the unending pressure of trying to keep the world in order.

  I cast a longing look at the round, dark wood tables dotting the floor, their surfaces glossy and shiny in the overhead lights. I sighed, wishing I could sit down and have a nice cup of dark coffee, but that wasn't why I came here. My clan was having a meeting tonight.

  I was about to move to the back when I paused at the sight of a beautiful man and woman. They didn't quite look like they belonged. They wore a lot of leather, for one. The clientele of Earthen Roast tended be more of the hemp and bamboo fabric variety. But every once in a while, others would wander in from the street, so they weren't that unusual of a sight. What was truly unusual was how much they were staring at me.

  I gave them a confused smile and the woman smiled back. She brushed her long, dark hair over her shoulder and leaned over to whisper something to the man. My smile faded. Odd. Did I offend them by staring back or something?

  I wasn't wholly incompetent socially, but it was hard when you grew up mostly isolated, with a family that was taught to cold-shoulder the world around them.

  Oh, gosh, they're still looking at me. And whispering. I quickly looked away and kept on walking, crossing through the doors to the back of the café. The ambient noise of chatter and silverware faded as the doors swung shut behind me. The kitchen was bustling but nobody even stopped to look at me.

  I opened the closet to my left and took out a simple, hooded brown robe. They were a formality. Just another rule for us to follow from the old days. Meant to further distance ourselves from each other. But that didn't work anymore, not when we had to work together to survive. I used to hate the itchy, burlap-esque monstrosities but I'd learned to be thankful for them since last year.

  Despite the fact that we weren't supposed to know or even really talk to each other, it was ob
vious that everyone knew I was the only survivor of our last mass summoning. They had seen me volunteer, then saw me around the café afterward.

  I was certain, judging by the looks they gave me, they were convinced we could've brought more souls from Hell if I had expended my power and died. What they didn't know was that I'd tried. I'd been prepared to die. I really had. It didn't work. I just kept on summoning more and more souls until I was possessed by one. That wasn't even supposed to happen.

  I could still feel the sickly perversion of the soul who'd slid inside me. I told myself, despite my doubts, that what we were doing was right. But it was much harder to ignore the voice telling me it wasn't after that experience.

  If we were unleashing souls like that on Earth, surely we were doing more than correcting the balance? But the Elders insisted Earth couldn't survive without what we do. So I kept my head down and did what I was born to do. What my family had died for.

  After donning my robe, I walked straight ahead to a door. The staff continued to work around me, none even glancing my way. They weren't supposed to either. Those were the rules.

  I wondered what it was like for them to be working together, all the while avoiding getting to know each other as much as possible. Was it awkward? I definitely always felt awkward when we had our meetings here. Which was often these days because there were so few of us left in our clan.

  Beyond the door were stairs that led to the basement. As I was making my way down, a hand suddenly clasped my arm. I jolted to a stop and looked over my shoulder to see another hooded silhouette behind me. The figure burst into a fit of giggles then dipped back their hood long enough for me to see who they were. Abby.

  Removing your hood before volunteering is forbidden, my mind whispered. I told it to shut up. I barely followed the rules, so I didn't care if she broke one. It was just my upbringing trying to intrude upon my thoughts, as usual.

  "I thought you were working?" I asked as quietly as I could.

  "Lunch break," she whispered back. "Figured you could use some solidarity."

  I smiled beneath my hood. "You're the best."

  "I know."

  It was comforting to have her at my back as we descended into the wide open, poorly lit basement. A single fluorescent light flickered and buzzed above us as we made our way to the dark outer ring, where the others were already standing, hoods in place. I shivered. Not because of the cool, damp air, but because of the eyes of the Elders following us as we moved.

  They stood in the middle of the room. Watching. A man and a woman. They wore the robe but no hood. They always showed their faces. It wasn't to shame them for having lived to an older age but to demonstrate that they sacrificed in their own way. They had withheld themselves from dying in glory to watch over and guide the rest of us. Which we sorely needed because so many of our parents sacrificed themselves long ago.

  Once Abby and I had settled, the woman Elder looked around, counting heads. Satisfied that everyone had arrived, all thirty or so of us, she addressed the room in a grim tone. "There were another two natural disasters in the past month. The Earth is still unwell. I know we're all tired and worn, but we must work harder to restore the balance."

  It never seems to stay balanced for long, does it? It took hundreds of lives to bring some semblance of balance to the Earth for the past year. The night I should've died, we had removed several lives from the Earth by sacrificing our own, and the souls undoubtedly caused even more chaos.

  I was starting to think it would never be enough. Small warning signs—the changing temperatures, the wildly unpredictable weather—still happened here and there, but the Elders insisted the Earth was happier in recent times. But not anymore, apparently.

  Sometimes I thought we should just let the Earth destroy itself, even though that sort of thinking spat in the face of my ancestry. It was our sacred duty to protect the Earth, and we were failing. Sowing chaos to remove lives and dissuade people from making more wasn't working. Yet we didn't know any other way. And sometimes, to the credit of us all, it did seem to be working. But I just didn't know anymore.

  The male Elder was next to speak, head lowered. "Due to these recent events, we will be having another mass summoning."

  "Another?" I dared to speak up from the crowd, unable to stop myself. "We can't. We have so few people left. Why not just have more summonings each week?"

  "Because we have a strong feeling we've been guided to a solution," the Elder replied. "This one will be even bigger than our last. Another clan that sees eye to eye with us has agreed to help."

  Murmurs floated up from the crowd. Another clan? How did the Elders even know how to find another? Our clan was the product of generations quietly passing down information. I wanted to ask them, but there would be no questioning the Elders, no matter how badly those thoughts burned inside me, so I snuffed them out.

  "We will need many volunteers to accomplish our goal," the woman said. "So we now ask that you step forward for the sake of our great Earth."

  I didn't plan on stepping forward. I had already done so once. I was done trying. But then I felt a tug on my arm. I was being pulled forward, stumbling out of my spot.

  "This is your chance," Abby whispered excitedly.

  She couldn't see the horror on my face from beneath my hood, but it was there. The thought of having to do it all over again made me realize, in that moment, that I couldn't stomach seeing everyone die around me again. It was supposed to be beautiful, but I had seen the pain in their expressions as they crumpled. All of them. Hundreds of contorted expressions. I'd been forced to watch because I couldn't die.

  Once all of us had stepped forward, the Elders gave us pleased smiles, each saying their thanks. "Now," the man said, "please remove your hoods as a pledge—a promise that you will sacrifice yourself for our cause."

  Everyone around me lowered their hoods one by one. Some had eyes that sparkled with excitement and others with nervousness or fear, but they were all willing. Abby removed her hood beside me, smiling widely, and gave me a gentle nudge in my side.

  No, please, I pleaded with myself even as I started to remove my hood, don't put yourself through this again.

  I wanted to turn around and leave. But that would be denying my legacy. What my parents and sister died for. With a long breath, I gave my hood a final push. It fell, lightly hitting my upper back, yet I jolted like I'd been punched. I lifted my head, eyes meeting those of the Elders. Too late. My fate was sealed.

  6

  Edwin

  An hour had passed since I proposed a little angel killing, and Amberlynn was still giving me the side-eye as we lounged in the living room, waiting for the other hunters to get back. Even Lucas seemed a little unsure. Was I really acting that different? Probably. I still wanted to turn Nathaniel's face into something unrecognizable. I had a feeling I wouldn't get my head on right until then. I should've taken the chance while I had it.

  "You, uh, you're not gonna pull a Zachariah on us, are you?" Amberlynn asked, referencing the hunter who had betrayed us all, eyes shifting from side to side. "Don't do it, man. Don't leave us with all these newbies running around."

  Cheri, one of our first new recruits, happened to be passing by. She paused in the hallway outside the living room and narrowed her glowing eyes as she focused on Amberlynn. "You only said that last part because I was walking by, didn't you?"

  "Never." Amberlynn pressed her lips together as she fought a grin. "Why would I do something like that?"

  I watched the two of them with mild interest. Amberlynn hadn't made a move that I knew of, but I was convinced she had a crush on Cheri. The woman was in her 40s and had this whole tight-bun secretary look going on, even after becoming a demon. That look wasn't my thing—I was more into quiet brunettes with terrible interior decorating skills—but I was definitely starting to think it got Amberlynn hot and bothered.

  The constant teasing and general social backwardness she had going on with Cheri was my biggest clue. For a
ll that Amberlynn had calmed down since she took the homicidal maniac shtick down a notch, it didn't change the fact that she was still Amberlynn—for better or worse.

  Cheri was having none of it though. She turned her bright red lips down into a frown, smoothed her pulled-back hair, then walked away. Amberlynn flashed us both a grin then got up to chase her, but her exit was blocked by two leather-clad forms. Priscilla and Gael, back from their hunt.

  "Finally," I said under my breath. It meant we could get off this rock and go back down to Hell. Since we had so many new recruits, we made a rule that everyone had to go back down together. Everyone waited at the base in whatever city they were in for the others to get done.

  When I say we made the rule, I meant our general-in-training, Gael. He said it was for accountability. As much as it made me feel like a kid in grade school, it had worked pretty well so far. None of our new recruits had met the sharp end of Samael’s sword yet.

  That didn't mean we weren't nervous about having a bunch of new criminals in our midst. Sure, we had all done more than our fair share of bad things in our mortal lives, but we were more comfortable with the criminals we knew—each other—than those we didn't. It made sense to us, at least. We went from having only five in the Brotherhood to six when Priscilla showed up. Now? The Brotherhood was a good fifty men strong and growing.

  I had to wonder if we were ready to trust all these people that were condemned to Hell to be roaming around the Earth. I mean, Zachariah had shown us that even a chance at redemption, getting to live a new life without mortal struggles, wasn't enough to keep some people in line. Then again, what did redemption mean to a demon stuck in Hell for eternity? I tried not to think about it too much. That seemed like a good way to end up bitter.