by Amanda Jones
The room was dimly lit, with one sole candelabra standing on a small wooden table in the center of the room providing the only illumination. Charcoal drawings were stuck to the walls and littered the floor, along with a multitude of books that sat in messy piles, leaning like the Tower of Pisa around the room. A large four poster bed sat in the corner of the room farthest from the frozen window. Satan’s VIP sat on the bed sketching as he usually did. There wasn’t much else for him to do down here to pass the time. Walking over to one of the walls, Satan took in the sketches covering the space in front of him. The same woman figured in all of the drawings, her face shown from different angles and in various expressions. In some of the sketches, she was smiling; in most, she simply had a heartbreaking look of longing.
“Very life-like.” Satan said, motioning to one of the sketches on the wall.
“Is it?” Came a voice raspy from disuse.
“Yes, surprisingly so.”
“Interesting. Considering you’re the only person I’ve ever seen, I wouldn’t know.”
Peering through the dim, flickering light at his prisoner, Satan looked him over. “Well, you’ll be seeing another person shortly. We should probably get you fixed up a bit before then.”
Looking up from his sketchpad, the prisoner raised his eyebrows. “Really? Is there something wrong with how I look?”
“Not wrong, per se.” Satan replied cryptically.
Sighing, the prisoner placed the sketchpad down on the bed. “Considering you’ve never given me a mirror, I wouldn’t know the difference.”
“You’ve never needed one before. This is different. I imagine our special guest will be anxious to meet you.” Satan replied, reaching down and picking up a book off the nearest pile. It looked as though it had been read countless times — the spine was cracked and splitting in several places, multiple pages were dog-eared. The Count of Monte Cristo, he smiled wryly, how fitting.
Replacing the book on the top of the pile, Satan motioned towards the drawing of the woman. “Why do you keep drawing her?” he asked, genuinely curious about the answer. His prisoner had been drawing the same thing since he was old enough to hold a pencil, but Satan had never really cared much about the whys. Now, with this whole saga quickly coming to a close, he could entertain his curiosity.
“She’s in my dreams. I feel like I know her, not sure why.” The prisoner answered matter-of-factly.
“Interesting,” Satan replied. Narrowing his eyes, he turned back to his VIP. No matter how many times he came down here to visit, he couldn’t believe what he saw. It was remarkable really — it shouldn’t have been possible. Shaking his head, he turned and left the room, the doors clanging shut behind him in succession. The prisoner rose and moved to stand in front of the charcoal sketch Satan had been examining before his departure. Reaching out, he ran his fingers down the line of the woman’s jaw. He sighed and dropped his hand back down to his side and turned into the light revealing a face that only Satan himself had ever laid eyes upon. He had a thin, pale face; full, but chapped, lips; darkly-arching eyebrows; defined jawline; and a tangled mass of jet-black hair. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, held it for a moment then exhaled and opened them to stare at the flickering candle with one emerald eye and one blue.
Chapter Nine
Katia
Katia was floating on the softest, fluffiest cloud she could imagine. All of her cares and worries had been swept away and she felt lighter than she had felt in what seemed like forever. Sighing, Katia wondered if she was dead. If this was Heaven she was all in. No, she thought, she wasn’t dead, just having a wonderful dream. It was much better than the last one. That had been the strangest dream she had ever had — male models walking through invisible portals and staring at her with electric eyes, being kidnapped by handsome glowing strangers that believed in witches and demons. She was definitely going to have to make an appointment with a psychiatrist when she woke up, but for now this dream was heavenly.
As she reveled in the softness all around her, Katia began to hear snippets of voices.
“…tell her about her friend…”
“…your exceptionally well-timed visit…”
“…asked for my help, so I came…”
“…does she know…”
“…don’t get your knickers in a twist, my man…”
“…give a shit what you think…”
“…take a breath and start thinking with your big brain…”
“…starting to wake up…”
Katia frowned. The voices weren’t so far away anymore. In fact, she could tell they were in the room with her. Still feeling deliciously relaxed, she stretched lazily and rolled over in the direction of the conversation. Opening her eyes, she tried to focus on the space around her. A couple of blinks later, her vision cleared. The voices stopped and seven sets of eyes were trained on her from across the room. No, make that eight, as the handsome lunatic stepped into her field of vision. They looked at her expectantly. Suddenly, her memories came crashing back. It had really happened. Katia had seen that man with the yellow eyes — who was looking at her like she was a rabid dog about to attack — step out of thin air. It was real. Hottie wasn’t a lunatic after all. Fuck!
Instead of the panic she expected to feel rising inside her, Katia felt remarkably calm. Either, it was the drug still working its way out of her system and she would wind up curled up in a ball in the corner soon, or something about this whole bizarre scenario made sense to her subconsciously. Katia passed her eyes over the lineup in front of her. Yellow-eyes, she remembered; her kidnapper, she remembered. The other six were all jaw-droppingly gorgeous in their own ways, but were complete strangers — glowing strangers — just like her kidnapper.
Deciding her best course of action was to sit up and make herself look as sane as humanly possible. Human — could she even use that as a descriptor anymore? Giving a wry smile, she pulled herself out from under a huge, fluffy, white duvet.
Glancing down around her, Katia realized that her kidnapper had gone out of his way to see to her comfort after her meltdown in the wake of yellow-eyes’ arrival. She had been provided with the softest white duvet, two fluffy pillows, and the handcuff that had previously tethered her to the bed had been removed. A strip of white linen was wrapped around her wrist.
Realizing she must look a fright and half-psychotic after having just woken up, Katia reached up and touched her hair. Finger combing it quickly, she unknotted the birds nest that had developed during her impromptu nap. A bark of laughter arose from one of the men in front of her. “Luc, I don’t think you need to worry about her. She must be feeling calmer if she’s worried about how she looks.” He smiled at Katia, making her think of Abercrombie and Fitch billboards she’d seen downtown. His laughter was infectious, and Katia found herself chuckling and smiling back at him. Shifting her gaze, Katia noticed that Luc was scowling at his friend, though his expression cleared as he turned to look her over. “How are you feeling, Katia? Is your wrist hurting?”
Katia glanced down at her wrist, “No, actually it doesn’t. I thought I’d done a real number on it.” She unpicked the knot on the linen wrapping and unwound the fabric. Inhaling sharply, she examined her wrist. Instead of the scabbed-over wound she had expected to see, all that remained was reddened skin that looked like it had rope burn. Frowning, Katia examined the cloth she had removed. On the patch that had rested directly over her skin was dried blood. “What the hell?” Katia muttered, raising her wrist to eye level in order to get a better look.
Crossing over to the bedside, Luc sat down next to her and took a look at her arm. He nodded and shot his companions a meaningful glance. “Two hours ago, I was on the verge of stitching that wrist.”
Taking her arm gently, he rubbed his thumb over the marks on her wrist. Katia looked up at him and their eyes locked and held. The sound of a throat clearing yanked them both back to their senses.
“Should we leave the two of you alone?”
Abercrombie and Fitch said with a teasing look.
Rolling his eyes, Luc decided it was time to introduce Katia to the crew. “Katia, I’d like to introduce you to some of my friends. They’re going to try to help us figure out what’s going on with you and where to go from here.” Katia nodded, unsure of what else to do. She felt like she’d just been dropped down the rabbit hole.
Luc squeezed her hand. “You remember Amir?” he asked, pointing towards the yellow-eyed man. “He’s a species of demon called a Jinn. No need to be afraid of him because he’s a demon. He’s not evil; he just has some special abilities.”
Amir stepped forward in the lineup and extended his hand towards Katia and smiled. “Hey! Nice to meet you. Sorry for the surprise entrance. Luc asked me to come over and give him a hand, but I didn’t realize he had company.”
Hesitantly, Katia extended her hand and shook Amir’s. “You’re a demon? You look so normal. Well, apart from your eyes. Oh shit! That’s so rude. I’m sorry.” Katia looked up at him with a horrified expression full of embarrassment and apology. Laughing, Amir’s smile grew even larger. “There’s a lot you’ll need to learn about the supernatural world, but demons aren’t all scaly with horns and cloven hoofs. Also, we’re not all good or all bad; we’re just like humans. But some of us aren’t always what we appear to be. Stick close to Luc — he’ll be able to guide you in the right direction about who to trust and who to avoid.”
“All right, thanks.” Katia smiled up at him. Returning her attention to Luc, she decided to plow forward. The quicker they got through the ‘who’s,’ the quicker they could get to the ‘what’s.’ So it was in her best interest to rip off the truth like a bandage. “So, who else do we have here? I must be something special if you all wanted to come and take a look. I’m starting to feel like a zoo exhibit.”
Sighing, Luc began to motion towards each of his fallen brethren one by one. “This is Bataryal, otherwise known as B. Beside him we have Samael; you can call him Sam. The guy standing over by the mirror is Yetarel. We call him Calvin, as in Calvin Klein model, ‘cause he’d like to think he is one. And then we have Azazel, Baliel, and Asmodeus, or just Al, Bill and Mo.”
As a unit, the six men raised their hands and nodded at her. Katia ran them through her mind a few times in order to attach names to faces. Halfway through her mental chanting, she froze. “Wait a minute. I recognize those names — you’re all named after angels! That’s so cool.” Katia turned to look at Luc. “My parents weren’t overly religious, but they read me stories out of the bible at bedtime when I was little. Too bad your name is Luc and not Michael or Zachariel or something, then you could all have been angels. Well, except for Amir, of course.” She said smiling.
Suddenly, Luc was looking everywhere except Katia’s face. After a moment of intense discomfort in the room, Luc barked out a short brittle laugh and returned his gaze to her. “Yeah, that would’ve been perfect, but I’m just plain old Luc.”
Katia studied Luc’s face for a moment, finally trying to see the man in front of her for who he was – not a kidnapper anymore, but someone who could give her information and possibly help her. He had obviously decided that she wasn’t who or what he had originally thought.
Comparing her initial waking up, having been chained to a bed to this second go around was like comparing apples to oranges. Though he hadn’t mistreated her aside from the initial drugging, Katia had sensed a general disconnect in Luc when she had first woken. He had seemed almost accusing in his manner of speaking to her, dismissive and short-tempered. This time she had woken un-cuffed. He had taken care of her wounded wrist, given her blankets and an extra pillow. He clearly had no desire to hurt her and had taken measures to ensure her comfort. So, to her very limited knowledge, Luc must be at the very least, a halfway decent man.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“For what?”
“For putting me back to sleep, for taking care of me, for bringing your friends here to help…just…thank you.”
Luc swallowed hard and looked down at the bedspread with a small nod.
“Speaking of taking care of me, what did you do to make my wrist heal so quickly? That’s amazing. Is it some kind of special demon thing?”
The group of men shot looks around at each other for a moment. Yetarel, who had finally peeled his eyes off his own reflection, made a motion towards the door. “Guys, I think we’re clear to head out for now to take care of that little side project Luc gave us.” Looking back at Luc and Katia, he continued. “We’ll leave you two alone so he can get you up to speed.” With that, they filed out the door one-by-one, leaving only Amir behind.
“Listen, Luc, I’m going to head home for a bit. If you need me later just hit me up on my cell and I’ll be here. The guys said they’d let both of us know once they’ve got the information you wanted.”
Luc nodded to Amir as he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him with a click. Turning back to Katia, Luc cleared his throat. “I should probably give you the rundown on what you need to know.”
Taking a deep, shaky breath, Katia nodded. “Go ahead. Give me the goods.”
“So, like I told you, Amir is a demon, a Jinn. Most demons are like him — they look human, but have some special abilities.” Clearing his throat, Luc continued. “Demons have free will, like humans. For the most part, they’re not evil. There are some demons that are bound to Satan – they’re essentially bottled evil. Then there are those of my kind…the fallen.”
“Fallen?” Confusion was written across Katia’s face.
“Yes, the fallen. The other six guys you just met and I…we’re fallen angels.”
Silence greeted this declaration. Luc looked up from the floor into Katia’s face, her eyes had grown wide. “Fallen angels,” she said breathlessly. “So all of those names, they’re the actual angels from the stories I was read?”
“Yes, they are.”
“But…that would make you all thousands of years old…that’s…”
“Impossible?” Luc replied wryly, raising his eyebrow.
Shaking her head and laughing, Katia nodded incredulously. “Yeah, impossible. Just like guys materializing out of nowhere, and seven guys that glow.” They sat in silence again for a few minutes while Katia took in the fact that this handsome man sitting beside her was centuries old. “So, fallen angels — can you walk through invisible doors too?”
Luc chuckled and shook his head with a rueful smile. “I wish! That would make my life so much easier. No, we’re actually not so impressive once we’re fallen. Essentially we’re immortal; but because we’ve been cut off from the heavenly host, our special abilities are gone. We’re stronger and faster than humans, but that’s about the extent of it.”
Katia nodded. “Okay, so what about me? We’ve established that demons, Satan, and fallen angels are real, which is blowing my mind, by the way. But why would Satan want me? I’m just…me.” Pausing for a moment and frowning, Katia thought back to all the times she had felt different, similar but apart, from all those around her. “I mean, I’ve always felt…different, but you asked what I was.”
Sighing, Luc nodded. “My aura. You shouldn’t have been able to see it. Humans can’t see it — only others from our world. Then there’s Satan’s interest in you. The only human’s he can bring into Sheol are people who have sold their soul to him, which you clearly haven’t.”
“So, if I’m not human, then what am I? And hell no on the soul-selling.”
“I’m not sure. Your wrist healed really fast. Far faster than most demons, more like an immortal.”
“Demons aren’t immortal?” Katia asked.
“No, most demons are not immortal. I mean, there are exceptions to every rule. Vampires, for example, can live forever if they don’t get decapitated. For the most part demons are extremely long-lived; the average life span of an incubus, for example, is around eight or nine centuries.”
Katia looked down at her wrist again, the ma
rks had continued to lighten. “There’s just one problem. This has never happened before. Are you sure you didn’t do anything to make it heal faster?”
“What do you mean it’s never happened before?”
“Well, I’ve cut myself and it’s taken days to heal. I’ve had stitches. I broke bones as a kid. Everything always healed normally. The only thing that’s been different are my eyes and my aging. For some reason I haven’t changed much in the last decade or so.”
“Hmmm, I wonder why you healed differently this time. Doesn’t really make any sense, does it? The aging does make sense. For demons, aging stops at every species’ physical peak. Immortals are created as we appear and we don’t age or change in any way. Your eyes I can’t explain; they’re unique.”
Katia gave a self-deprecating laugh. “If by ‘unique’ you mean freakish, then yes, they are.”
“Never say that. They make you different…special,” he said emphatically.
Looking back up at Luc through her lashes, Katia smiled. For someone who had frightened her only a few hours before, she was finding herself increasingly drawn to this man…no, not a man, an angel. Suddenly shy, she looked back down at her lap. “Well, thank you for that.”
“There is one other thing. Your friend Sergei.”
“What about him?”
“He’s a practitioner of Goetic magic. He’s a witch.”
Katia’s eyebrows hit the ceiling. “A what?”
Luc’s lips twitched. What was it about this woman that made him want to laugh, even at the most inappropriate times? Maybe it had just been far too long since he’d seen someone have a genuine reaction to something, too long since he’d seen true surprise and shock. Life among creatures that lived for centuries precluded novelty. Most of his acquaintances had seen and done it all before. “That family ring he wears belongs to the Romanov family of witches. It’s passed down from eldest son to eldest son. I’m sure his interest in you is personal, but it’s also likely he’s realized you’re different.”
