We exchange gooey-eyed looks, and the moment is sweeter than a cinnamon roll.
Until Raz butts in. He pushes me to the side so he can steal a kiss from our girl. And I would grumble, but he’s left her pussy wide open, her thighs gaping where she sagged in boneless bliss after her orgasm.
That means it’s my turn for a snack.
8
Zolroth
I prefer the finer things in life—immaculately pressed suits, Rolex watches, designer shoes. As a materialism demon, I crave these items like an addict yearns for their next fix. Purchasing expensive things, whether in a store or online, soothes something inside of me. It’s quite amusing, if you truly think about it. A big, scary demon needs an Amazon shopping binge to feel whole.
That…and Katrina.
Despite the pain radiating through my chest, a small smile curves up my lips. It’s laced with agony so pronounced, I’m choking on it. I’ve consumed every bottle of painkillers humankind has created. Akor has tended to my wounds—dressed in a sexy nurse outfit—and Raz has checked on me daily.
And though I’m healing, I can still feel the pain contaminating my airways. Still remember staring down the face of death and accepting it. It’s not as scary as the humans will have you believe. Death, I mean.
If you’re human, your soul is slated to either go to Heaven or Hell. But if you’re like me, an embodiment of darkness and things that go bump in the night, you’ll go…nowhere. At least, no one knows for sure where you’ll go, but the rumors state you’ll simply cease to exist. The devil herself has been tight-lipped about what happens to demons when they die. Do they simply disappear, their darkness nothing but a tarnish on Earth’s memory? Do they become one with the night? Or maybe they have a chance to be reborn, have a chance to right the wrongs they did when they were evil personified? Would God even do that? He hates us. I don’t know that he’d give us another shot to fall in line and be good little mindless drones for him.
I don’t know if I believe in reincarnation, in a second chance. Then again, if bloody angels and demons are real, why can’t reincarnation be too? There are thousands and thousands of planets—maybe the dead will be reincarnated on one of them. As a plant, an alien, maybe even a blade of grass. Though that would suck. What a boring existence. If I return as a blade of grass, someone please stomp on me.
I can’t tell you what will happen in the future. But I can tell you that right now, I’m healing from a mortally fatal wound to my chest and stomach.
Because of a bloody fucking angel.
Those infuriatingly cocky assholes have been a stain in this world for too damn long. They believe they’re gracing the world with ethereal light and goodness like one would throw rice at a wedding (gag). But those pompous, winged bastards are more evil than even us, those forged in the depths of Hell.
Who do you think starts all the wars? Not us. We much prefer working with souls individually, coaxing them into individual choice. Does that sometimes lead to murder? Yes. It also sometimes leads to the invention of absolutely ridiculous things like cotton candy. The human mind is an amazing thing when it’s freed of restraints.
But angels? They wish to stomp on any groups who dare break their carefully constructed “rules.” Entire nations will fall to their knees to appease their will, all in the name of structure, order, discipline. Blech.
Demons, we revel in the dissonance chaos of the world. Of the varying viewpoints and ideologies. We plant those seeds in unsuspecting humans’ minds, and then we’ll tend to them until they’re brilliant trees, devoid of any weeds. We build nations instead of destroying them.
So which angel attempted to kill me?
I’d bury them just for that alone, but the fact that they did it in front of Katrina, where she could’ve easily been caught in the crossfire, only solidifies my resolve.
The flock will pay with their blood.
Now, I just need to find out where they are. Who they are.
I peer intently at the laptop as I try not to jerk my body and open up any stitched wounds. Because Akor in his fucking nurse’s costume is the last thing I want to see. The knees. God, the fucking hairy knees. They’ll haunt me.