I
look from the dark, bowed head to the back of the averted golden blond one, uncertainly. "You're kidding, right?" I manage, the words tentative. The question is largely rhetorical however, because I am not expecting either to admit it, even if it is a joke. Certainly, as credible stories go, this one fails dismally. It has all the signs of being an elaborate prank, one to see how far they can take me and yet… am I actually entertaining the possibility that their story is truth? It seems too much trouble to go to just for a childish scheme. Add to that the fact that I haven't really talked to Spencer in almost a year and my contact with Gabriel is sporadic at best, and I am really close to believing them. What else would I be doing in Spencer's house? "No, we're not kidding," Spencer, says, uncomfortable. We are sitting in the family room in the basement of his house. He is perched on the edge of a sturdy table, one foot swinging negligently the other planted on the floor for balance. Gabriel is across the room, staring mesmerized into a blazing fire.
"A demon? You summoned a demon?" I clarify, still careful. I know Gabriel much better than Spencer, having spent far more time with him, but that doesn't help much. Gabriel is wont to lie about anything and everything, so long as it will benefit him. I know that about him, and yet I always want to believe him. I walk suspiciously around the edges of the bizarre story, examining it carefully to determine if there is some way for Gabriel to profit by lying. So far, I can't find one but then I can't shake the wary feeling of something being wrong either. Well, something other than the obvious incongruity of calmly discussing summoning demons, that is. They've detailed the story for me, an excruciatingly absurd one if it's true. About how they were poking around in antique stores looking for just the right prop for one of the plays they were doing together and how Spencer came across this old book called "The Book of Arcane Spells". Gabriel has always been interested in magic and astral travel and the like, so when Spencer found it, he bought it as an anniversary surprise. Gabriel, thrilled by the gift, began pouring over the spells, surprised to find no strange ingredients were required, only keen concentration. How they wound up choosing the demon-summoning spell is anyone's guess. Neither of them remembered exactly, or so they said. Spencer claimed he hadn't really thought it would work until the room filled with sulphurous smoke and this nasty, red, winged thing stood in front of them.
Its name was Azariel and it came from the seventh level of the astral plane, whatever in the hell that meant. It was no Djinn and did not promise three wishes. It would do the bidding of the summoner but not without a price. It wasn't a far reach at this point to guess the price had something to do with Cara, but it wasn't that specific. Azariel had not been freed from the astral plane in so long it could scarcely remember what it was to be human and intended to enjoy its time here. "Okay... so how long has this thing been here?" I ask, momentarily willing to assume that they are on the level. "Two weeks, maybe a bit more." Gabriel admits. "It was fun at first." I try to bite back my instinctive response but fail. "Fun? No, Gabe, fun is camping out or going swimming or riding a bike. Summoning a demon does not qualify as fun." He narrows his gaze at me. "What would you know about fun?" That stops my sarcastic rant dead. "And just what is that supposed to mean?" "Nothing. Just that you're more repressed than an eighty-year old nun, Sabine. Your idea of fun is hanging out at McDonalds all night with rejects." A knowing little half smile quirks his lips. "I almost didn't believe it when Spencer told me you propositioned him. Not sweet little Sabine, I told him, but he insisted, and then I remembered how you came on to me in junior high. That's when I started wondering about the real you. How deep is it buried, hmmm? What will it take to turn the you loose?"
I'm shaking with conflicting emotions, frozen by the roiling turmoil. Alternating cataracts of heat and cold rock through me in concert with a muddy coil of feelings I can't possibly separate. I can't breathe, can barely stand, so shocked I am numb. Tears pool in my eyes, wounded so deeply I can do nothing but pick up the pieces and try to hold them in until I can sort this out. My face is damp and I realize the tears must have spilled over... "Ah bloody hell, I shouldn't have said that, Sabine. I'm sorry, " As Spencer steps between us, I wipe the tears from my face with a savage swipe and take a long, deep breath. "You are entitled to your opinion, I guess." I manage in an almost even tone. "He didn't mean it." Spencer offers, stepping closer, arm extended as if to embrace me.
I back away from him with alacrity and shake my head. "Oh no, don't do that. Listen, I um I really should go. I, " "You can't go. Not yet - we haven't finished the story yet." Spencer protests. "Yeah, we haven't gotten to the good part. The part where you come in." Gabriel adds sardonically.
I hesitate. I shouldn't stay. I should get up and walk out of here, tell them to find someone else's head to mess with, but I don't - I can't. I'm only human and the lure of being involved with this seductive pair proves stronger than my instinct for self-preservation. No matter how much it rips at me to know the kind of contempt they regard me with, I find I cannot willingly get up and walk out. I stand there for a moment, poised like I really have a choice before shrugging with as much nonchalance as I can garner and settling back down. I may be mostly helpless to resist the sheer magnetic pull of their charisma, but I can assuredly try to not let them in on it.
The rest of the story is almost as unbelievable as the first part, but with a grimmer twist to it. The demon, fully capable of taking on human form, accompanied Spencer and Gabriel to nightclubs and bars and casinos. They dined at the most lavish restaurants, attended the theatre and sporting events, all with money somehow provided by Azariel. Gabriel had skipped school the past three weeks in order to entertain the demon but Spencer had continued attending class. Then a couple of days ago, the demon decided it wanted to go to school with Spencer. Up to that point, its desires had coincided with theirs but now it took a different path. Azariel told them it was time for payment and that he wanted Cara. Exactly what he wanted her for was unclear.
They argued with him about it but could come to no agreement so they eventually confined him to the house. Unfortunately, nothing in the spell book explained how to confine a demon. Worse, they realized they didn't know how to send it back. "Too bad that detail didn't occur to you in time for it to be useful." I comment. "So was it you with Cara backstage that night?" "No. I didn't realize Azariel could mimic forms until then." I cast him a quelling glance. How stupid is that? If it could take on human form, why not any human form? "Come on, even I figured that out." "What do I know about demons?" He snaps irritated. "When I got home that day, he wasn't here so I went back to school and found you there..." With Azariel about to eat me for dessert… lovely. Silence hangs over us like a funeral pall until I shift restlessly and ask, "So what has this fascinating tale got to do with me?"
Spencer glances at Gabriel. "You tell her." I'm already pissed off at him, so he has nothing to lose. He lifts his shoulders in a careless gesture and drops the words into the quiet room to good effect. "Azariel wants you now." My heart falters. "What?" I whisper. "The demon, remember? He wants you." "Wants... what does he want with me?" "How the hell should I know?" Gabriel snaps. "He said he wanted Cara, but wouldn't say what for. We refused and he killed her. So when he said he wanted you, we didn't figure we had much to lose by telling you. Spencer here didn't think we should even burden you with that information, but Azariel promised he would keep killing until...." His voice trails off but I don't need him to finish; I get the point.
"There. We did what he asked, now I'll take you home and we can start working on real solutions." Spencer says, jingling his car keys in his pocket nervously. "No, we didn't." Gabriel says with chilling calm. "We only told her half of it. He promised he would return to the ethereal plane if you would willingly spend one night with him. "What - what - " I stammer like an idiot trying to form some relevant question but really, it's just such a shock I don't even know what I should want to know. "If I had to hazard a guess, I would say the charming Azariel is after your body, but it could just as easily be your soul." Gabriel spreads his hands wide in a parody of a helpless, what's-a-guy-to-do gesture and suddenly I understand something, something that might just salvage our friendship - Gabe is scared. There's nothing he can do in this situation, nothing but ask me to sacrifice myself to save him from his own short sightedness. All his sarcasm and biting comments are not about me at all, but about his sense of guilt and inadequacy.
Oh yes, suddenly the crazy, topsy-turvy picture upends, rights itself and I understand. Freed from a tension I didn't know I carried, compassion flows easily now. I glance over to see Spencer standing rigid with fury and I know he has taken on the white knight role in this farce. He plans to rescue me from the evil demon Azariel and, to a lesser degree, from Gabriel himself. Do I need rescuing? I didn't realize... I let my gaze slide over to Gabriel, dear Gabriel, retreating from his fear into sardonic indifference. Without intending to, I have come between them. As usual, minor details like telling me how repressed I am and how much of a slut I am have fled my mind. "Stop it, you two." I say with quiet conviction. "You have too much against you to be letting inconsequential stuff come between you." The little twists and turns fate takes are ever a revelation to me. I heave a sigh. "Jesus, I never thought I would be playing matchmaker for the two of you."
Spencer stiffens further. "But, " "But what? So Gabriel messed up. It's not the first time and it won't be the last." "Thanks, I think." Gabriel murmurs dryly. "I don't think you understand the seriousness of the situation." Spencer insists, unyielding. "Do you know what he's done?" "Yeah, I do. It's a little hard to deal with, but yes, I know." I hesitate and finally ask the question that has been foremost on my mind. "Why me?" Spencer grimaces, dismayed. "It seems to have something to do with the way you felt when he touched you. The night Cara, died, he held you and said later that you have the most amazing essence. I'm not sure exactly what it means though." Spencer stares at his feet, shifting his weight from side to side uncomfortable. I shiver at the thought of that thing touching me. I know nothing about demons but my stereotypical impression is of graphic evil. "So, will you do it?" Gabriel leans forward, his question earning him a renewed glare from Spencer.
Good question, will I? I try to imagine myself actually going through with this and it is more than I can wrap my mind around. I'm scared now, so very scared I feel cold down to my bones. I gnaw on my lower lip, wishing I had some time to think about this. They want it to happen soon, like tonight if possible. What if it's real? What if it's not? What difference does any of that make, you idiot? Do you really want to die? We are talking permanent and forever here, remember? Remember Cara? She was torn into pieces. Think real hard about this, Sabine. And yet the naive little martyr living in me that is jumping up and down, begging to be sacrificed drowns the voice of reason out. Only it must not be so little considering it appears to be winning the shouting match. "I - Where's the bathroom?" I ask, abruptly. I need time, time away from them and their cautiously hopeful expressions.
Spencer looks surprised but gives me directions and they watch me walk out of the room. Preoccupied, I miss it the first time but when I turn to retrace my steps, I realize that the acoustics in the basement are of the odd variety to allow a whisper to be heard with perfect clarity at just the right spot. Inadvertently, I have found the right spot. "Is she gone?" Gabriel asks. "Yeah. Come here, I've been wanting to get my hands on you all afternoon!" A husky laugh… then a long silence. My cheeks burn and I take a single step forward, but not fast enough. "Mmm… So do you think she's buying it?" This from Gabriel worried. "Buying it, hell!" Spencer laughs. "She's sold, baby. Hook, line, and sinker! She do whatever I asked if she thought it would help me. Seducing her was an inspired idea." "Yeah, well, you didn't have to enjoy it so much." Gabriel mutters. "Ouch! Watch the teeth, lover." Spencer growls, affection clear in his tone. "Surely you're not jealous! You know you're the only one for me." "Hmm. Yeah. First Cara, then Sabine. You sure you aren't changing gears here?" "I'm sure. Only you, Gabe... God, do you feel good! Let me just..." Gabriel groans then, a low, tormented sound. "Ahhh... man, Spence, not now. She'll be back...." "Shhh... Just lean back and enjoy. I know what I'm doing." Dark, seductive words mingle with muffled moans, strangled protests, and finally encouragement, something I hear only vaguely. Most of my attention is spent in trying to figure out what they mean by is she buying it. Beyond the fact that they are obviously lying to me, that is. The real question is what are they lying about? A chill skitters across my skin and I feel like I just swallowed a rock.
A hoarse shout, a throaty laugh and it is all over. I hear the whispered words of affection, and my stomach flips over. It's a weird, powerful mix of jealousy, fear, and confused betrayal that sends me up the stairs. I'm not staying here, not any longer. They've lied to me and screwed with me one time too many. I take one shaky step toward the front door, flinching away from dark, serious eyes that regard me from between the bars of the railing leading to the upper floor. Trevor; Spencer's ten-year old brother, stares down at me with clinical curiosity; a pearl handled, gleaming silver cap gun clutched in one hand. "Please." I whisper. "Don't tell them where I've gone." Trevor cocks his head and shrugs, which I take for assent, and I slip silently out the door into the frigid, velvety darkness.
It is a long walk home, made longer by the combination of the darkness and the biting wind. A shimmering blanket of stars glitters overhead, brightened by the absence of the moon and a brisk wind slices through my clothes. The faint scent of wood smoke floats on the crisp air mingling with the achingly familiar smell of dried leaves. A long, low howl wails through the night and I tremble as if seized and shaken by some unseen source. I haven't gotten this bizarre ruse figured out yet. While Gabriel's idea of a good practical joke is adding Ex Lax to the band teacher's coffee, I just don't get how this one is set up or why they dragged me into it. That thought nudges my memory of the thing that grabbed my foot at school. What if the demon isn't what they are lying about? What if they really have called something from another world, something that is hungry for me? No. It's just too unlikely.
Drawing my coat closer to my body, I shiver and grit my teeth against swelling bitterness. I thought I learned my lesson last spring with Spencer when I vowed never to allow myself to be that vulnerable again. I swore I wouldn't let it happen and yet what do I do? At the most critical moment, the instant when I should be the wariest, I fall to pieces and let him slide right under my defences into my heart. He is an unmitigated bastard and I trusted him. I trusted him. Why do I do this every bloody time? I can no longer keep track of the number of times that Gabriel has disappointed me, let me down or completely screwed me over in some way. From the moment I met him, with his volatile temper, quicksilver tongue, charismatic personality, I've been hooked. I accepted the fact that I simply lack whatever it is in a woman that attracts him a long time ago and determined that being around him as his friend was far better than not being around him at all. A bitter sobbing laugh chokes out of my chest and I wonder when, when am I going to get that Gabriel is a manipulative user?
And Spencer? What about him? Shouldn't it have been a clue to me that the two of them were made from the same mould when they spent so much time together? How is it that I can be so wilfully blind? All right. So if there is no demon, no Azariel, then who killed Cara? Terror shimmies up my spine as I make the obvious connection. If Azariel doesn't exist, then... that must mean Spencer did. Spencer and Gabriel. Jesus, I thought I was in danger with Dante, a stranger, but I obviously was in far more trouble in the presence of my so called friends, apparently the next player in their sick diversion. I feel panic beginning to take over, and then I draw myself up short. Just hold on a minute, Sabine, get a grip. You don't know anything for sure. They lied to you, but that doesn't necessarily mean they killed her. There will be plenty of time to talk with the police. This time, the voice of reason wins.
I keep trudging toward home, so lost in my thoughts that I do not see the figure hulking in the dark until I run flat into him. Dante. I recognize his distinct scent, surprised that I can do so on such brief acquaintance. He catches hold of my upper arms to steady me, releasing me as soon as I have regained my balance. "Sorry." I murmur, edging away and around him. "It's all right. What are you doing out here so late by yourself?" "I was working at school - " I stop. He knows I left with Spencer and Gabriel, so I give up the lie. "We had a falling out. They lied to me and I left." Simplistic explanation, but it works. "I see." There is an odd note in his voice, a pleased satisfaction. "You deserve better anyway." "Thanks, I think." I mutter, unconsciously echoing Gabriel's earlier comment. "Listen, I'm in sort of a hurry now..." "Of course. Can I give you a ride somewhere?" He asks with formal courtesy. I blink, pondering the offer. It would make getting home easier and I no longer need worry that Dante is the murderer since I know Spencer is guilty. Still... I shake my head. "No, thank you. It's a nice night and I'd rather walk." "Sure. It's only - what, thirty-degrees? Warm as the beach. And the wind is so gentle...." He teases, the laughter trembling in his voice. "Would you mind if I walk with you? I could use an evening stroll." Reluctantly, I grin at his good humour. "All right."
Dante regales me with stories of his childhood in England as we walk. He is good company, charming, charismatic, well read, educated, and ever so incredibly attractive. If my heart were not shattered into innumerable pieces, I might be interested in him. He keeps his distance at first but gradually walks a bit closer, then closer, until finally, he wraps his arm around my shivering shoulders, to keep me warm, he says. It works I'm definitely warmer. "So my sister held the cookie behind her back to keep it away from the peacock while another one slipped right up behind her and stole it right away!" I laugh at the image he has painted of his three-year old sister wandering the castle grounds, being chased by cookie stealing peacocks. "She chased after that silly bird, screaming for her cookie." Dante chuckles with me. "To this day she hates the bloody things."
We pause on the street corner two blocks from my house. "I can imagine. Listen, I want to thank you for walking me home. I appreciate it." I press my hand to his cheek in gratitude. "Today has been difficult, but this, being with you, has been so nice."
He wraps both arms around me and enfolds me in a brief embrace. "I'm glad you were willing to give me another chance. After I stepped on your toes before, I was sure you wouldn't ever listen to me again." "I didn't intend to." I admit, wincing as the pain of betrayal I had succeeded in suppressing floods back over me. "I'm not usually so touchy, really. It's just been a long day."
"I understand." Dante's voice is calm, soothing, and I have the impression that he truly does get it. He strokes my upper back gently almost pensive. "I wish - " He stops, voice trailing off into silence. "What? What do you wish?" I ask, burrowing closer to his body, absorbing his incredible heat. Everything about this feels magical. He drops a light kiss onto the top of my head and inhales with a heavy sigh. "Never mind." I pull back angling so I can see into his face. "No, tell me. What is it?" Dante raises his hand to my face and brushes his hand across my cheek then presses another kiss to my forehead. "Go home now, Sabine." He sets me away from him firmly. "But " "Go. Now. While you still can." His teeth flash in the dim light from the street lamp. "And thank you." Confused, I obey, and walk away wondering why I suddenly feel such sorrow; like this is the last time I will ever see him. I turn once but he is gone.
They are waiting for me. I climb the back fence, thinking that I will slip in through the garage, but Gabriel catches a hold of me from behind. I yelp in surprise, and then open my mouth to scream in earnest, my heart slamming in my chest. A rag absorbs all sound and most of my saliva as he crams it in. I struggle but I don't have a chance. Spencer appears and they bind my hands and feet before hauling me off to the car. I shake the hair out of my eyes, panting with consuming terror. What is this all about? Are they are going to kill me, tear me to pieces, just like poor Cara? I close my eyes, breathing slowly around the burning anger that chokes me. I don't realize I am crying until I feel the tears dripping down my cheeks to puddle in my ears. It's just that... that I don't want to die. "Christ, Sabine, will you just shut up?" Spencer snarls. I turn my face into the seat and try to cry more quietly. We stop at a motel in the center of town. Spencer leans across the back seat, grabs my chin and forces me to look at him. "Listen. I'm going to untie your feet and we are all going to walk to the room. You aren't going to give us any trouble, right?"
I don't reply, simply glare at him. He slaps my face lightly, but what more can I expect? "I don't want to hurt you Sabine." He sighs and I can't help uttering an incredulous snort. "I don't! If you will just cooperate, everything will be fine. All right?" Again, I scowl at him. Unfortunately, I've never been able to cry elegantly. My nose is streaming snot that I cannot wipe away because my hands are bound. Humiliation spreads a dull flush across my face. Way to impress them, Sabine. "Sabine, " Spencer breaks off and swears violently, an odd note of concern coloring his tone. He gives up on trying to convince me to help. They drag me out of the car, untie my feet, drape a concealing blanket over me, and half drag, and half carry me to the room. "Bit too much to drink." Gabriel explains to an elderly woman who is taking a walk. I consider struggling, but what good is an old woman going to be against two strong young men?
Gabriel shoves me into a chair as soon as the door closes behind us and throws himself on the bed, studying me for a long moment. "You're a mess." He observes flatly. "You need a shower but first, let's clear this mess up. I'm guessing you decided the demon story was bullshit?" He pauses for my response, but I simply glare malevolently at him. "That's a yes or no question and you are allowed to answer." He stops again then grimaces. "We need you, Sabine." Spencer says from his position against the wall by the door. "We weren't bullshitting you. Azariel is real." I sit stony and unmoved. Well, not unmoved. My heart is still beating a heavy tattoo, pumping terror through my veins. "This is our last chance. If we miss this cycle, we'll never get rid of him.
Please, I beg you, do this for me." Gabriel's face is so serious and sober.... if my hands were free, I would applaud his stellar performance. The begging is a really nice touch. As it is, I can only roll my eyes and shake my head in disgust. "Well, Spence, looks like we aren't going to get anywhere until we actually let her tell us what made her run." "She'll scream the bloody hotel down," Spencer objects. "Do we have a choice?"
He yanks the gag out of my mouth without any further warnings but I can't get up enough spit to even speak, let alone scream. I make a strangled sound, amazed when it prompts Spencer to retrieve a glass of water for me. I drink greedily and sit back with a soft sigh. "So, care to enlighten us as to why you ran off like a total idiot in the middle of the night?" Gabriel asks head propped up on one hand, eyes glittering. "I meant it when I said Azariel wants you. I can't believe you managed to make it home without him finding you, he has your scent, you know." "Oh Christ, stop it with the demon crap, all right? I heard you guys talking and I know it's a all a crock." The hoarse, inadvisable words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. "I don't know what you want with me, but it certainly isn't to pacify some mythical demon." They exchange a swift glance full of unspoken communication the likes of which only close lovers can manage. Spencer drops to his knees in front of me and looks straight into my eyes. "What did you hear?" He asks. "I missed the bathroom and I was headed back toward it when I heard you guys talking. There's a spot there where you can hear everything. I heard it all." Surprise flashes in his dark eyes. "Oh..." He casts another glance at Gabriel then digs around in his jeans for something.
The knife blade winks in the dim light as he draws it out of his pocket. It isn't very big, but how big does it have to be to kill? He touches my cheek with a gentle hand, stroking down my hair and I flinch from his caress. My chest constricts and I cannot breathe... he pushes me forward, bends me over my knees and I choke on another sob. Then the pressure on my wrists loosens and I am free. I can scarcely credit it. "I wish you hadn't heard any of that, Sabine." Spencer says soberly. The relief of freedom is as powerful as the fear I was suppressing. I continue to cry with even more abandon and start to tremble uncontrollably. It is an odd thing for me to be so weepy in front of anyone else. My control is such that I never cry in anyone else's presence, but I am a regular sprinkler today. I suppose the threat of being chopped up in little pieces by people you once considered friends is enough of a reason for anyone to cry. When Spencer pulls me into his arms, I simply fall apart all over him.
Finally, my tears subside and I pull myself together. Stiffly, I extract myself from his embrace, flushing with reaction - I am responding to his proximity in spite of everything. I really want nothing more than to burrow into his chest, feel his arms holding me close, and inhale the warm scent of him. God I'm such an idiot... I gain my feet, wobbly but capable, and shrug out of my coat. I cross to the sink to splash water on my face, using the time to more fully regain my composure. I haven't any idea what is what now. What is the truth? Is Azariel real or not? I'd ask for a fuller explanation, but I wouldn't be able to believe it anyway. "Isn't kidnapping me a little extreme? I mean, what, it couldn't wait until tomorrow?" I finally ask. "I had no idea you'd hunt me down like that, but then I don't understand what this whole set up is about anyway."
"I told you what we want. The Azariel part of it was true. And that he wants you. Unfortunately, our timetable got messed up. It has to be tonight or we're stuck with him for another five hundred years." Gabriel says in a stiff tone, arms crossed defensively over his chest. I slant a sardonic glance his way. "No need to worry, Gabe. Spencer's all yours. He never wanted me, remember?" Spencer winces. "Sabine, " "No." I hold up my hand to forestall any protest. "I can't stand any more of that tonight. It doesn't matter, okay?" Well, it does matter, but I truly can't handle any more. My emotional state is too fragile and I am too weary to deal with it. "So you want me to agree to spend the night with a demon." I shrug. "Fine. Where's the demon?" "You'll agree?" Gabriel sits up suddenly, face alight with excitement. "You show me the demon and then we'll talk." I temporise. His face falls but Spencer nods. "All right, that's fair. You wait here and I'll go get him."
A heavy, tense silence descends the moment the door closes. I turn back to the mirror; grip the edge of the sink like a lifeline and wonder where we go from here. I study my reflection and agree with Gabriel - I am a mess. I would shower but I don't have any clean clothes. "Why didn't you tell me?" The abrupt question slides free with shocking ease. "About you and Spencer, I mean. We are, were friends, weren't we?" I see his reflection in the mirror, noting the sudden tension in his body. I am amazed - I didn't even realize how much that hurt me. "We're friends." He says flatly and rolls his shoulders uncomfortably. "God, I don't know why. It's just that you're so naive. You never even guessed what was going on the whole time we were messing around. What would you have thought if I had come right out and told you we were together?" "I don't know." I counter. "You never even gave me a chance. Besides, it doesn't matter what I would have thought. I would have dealt with it. I just thought... I thought we were friends." Gabriel shrugs. "I didn't mean to hurt you." "Then why did you lie to me?" He flinches at the soft words that slice through the tension and I wince. Again, my mouth has run away from me.
At that moment, the door opens and Spencer steps inside. The tension ratchets up several notches and I close my eyes and release my breath on a long, slow, exhale. Time's up. I can't imagine what is next but it won't do much good to put it off. I don't know what I expected but when I turn around and my jaw drops open, dumfounded. Never, ever did I expect him to look like that. A small surprised laugh escapes me. "This is Azariel?" I ask, just to be sure. Spencer nods and I shake my head in disbelief. I swear to God, the man standing just inside the doorway looks just like Brad Pitt. "And Azariel is a demon?" Again, to clarify. Spencer nods again. "Is there a problem?" The Brad Pitt look alike asks with some concern. "She finds this countenance displeasing?" "It's fine." Gabriel snaps. "Just get on with it." Brad looks back and smiles at me with boyish eagerness. "Hello. I've wanted ever so much to meet you." "Come on, you don't expect me to believe this is a demon!" I scoff. "What did you expect?" "Well not Brad Pitt, that's for sure." I glance at Brad and shake my head. "This is ridiculous." "Jesus, Sabine, haven't you ever seen 'Meet Joe Black'?" Gabriel asks, exasperated. I frown, straining to remember the movie he's talking about. I recall it was a movie but... and then my eyes widen as it comes back. Something about Death taking over the body of Brad Pitt's character. "No... You've got to be kidding!" But they aren't, I can see it on their faces and they are beginning to lose patience.
"You told me to bring him here, he's here. Now, what are you going to do?" "How do I know this is really a demon?" I demand. "He looks perfectly human to me. Didn't you say something about wings and red scaly skin and glowing eyes?" Brad looks from one to the other with disgust and there is something about him that is terribly familiar. "You told her that? I only use that form when I'm trying to be frightening. It's not very comfortable, you know." He is so eager and harmless that I want to laugh. I can scarcely believe they are going to try to pass him off as some dangerous entity. It's as ludicrous as trying to make someone believe I am dangerous. "Just change your form. She's not going to believe a goddamn thing until you do." Spencer snaps. "And hurry the hell up. It's not getting any earlier." For a second, I see it flash behind his eyes, that dangerous something that marks this man as someone to be reckoned with and then it subsides again and he resembles nothing more than a recalcitrant child. "It's not my fault you two are so grossly inept." Brad mutters and closes his eyes.
The first time I see the form change, is a mind numbing shock and leaves me gasping with a bone chilling terror. The sharply defined, classically handsome features begin to melt like a wax mask left out in the sun too long, the flesh dripping off the skeleton. Then the bones begin to elongate and display a flexibility that is all wrong for that element of the body. Wings sprout across his shoulder blades to the accompaniment of a wild howl of agony from - well, from Azariel. I can no longer imagine him as Brad Pitt or anything remotely human. His arms shrink, his legs become muscular and bulky and red scales shimmer into place to serve as skin.
When he stands before me, fully transformed, he is a masterpiece, a thing so horrible and repugnant that it possesses a hypnotizing beauty. I stand staring at this graceful thing, all the air trapped in my heaving lungs along with a high decibel scream that is begging to be released. A long, forked tongue, not unlike a lizard's, flickers too close to me and I flinch away in an overly dramatic response. But I can't help it. Brad has become Azariel so completely I can scarcely grasp it. "Breathe, Sabine." Azariel hisses in a gravel voice. "Breathe." So I do. I grab several, deep, sucking gasps while I am still capable of such mundane acts and not frozen in panic. "You assskkked to sssseeee. You've sssseeen. Can I get rid of the Halloween cosssttttume?" The shiny red lizard like creature demands. I nod weakly. Oh yeah. Please lose it. The second morph is just as shocking as the first but I am much relieved when the demon disappears and Brad stands in front of me. He looks older somehow as if the act of changing shapes exhausted him, or touched something raw under the surface. He regards me impassively, apparently waiting for something.
"Are you satisfied?" He finally asks. My eyes are just huge - I can feel it. I nod with alacrity, gripped by a shimmy of terror. "Oh stop! It's not like I plan to have you for dinner." Azariel snaps, irritable. His voice lacks any hint of compassion as he reminds me, "You asked to see it." "I was just wondering if this is your true form." I manage through a dust dry mouth. The question takes him aback, I can see it in his eyes, and he doesn't want to answer me for some reason. A surge of satisfaction ripples through me - I've managed to make a demon uncomfortable. Not a terribly useful job skill but I'll count the small victory. "It's one of many." He replies, gaze flickering. "Sabine - " Spencer says, cutting the words off at a sharp glance from Azariel. "All right. I'll do it." I say, recklessly abandoning caution and good sense in five words or less. I feel no sense of trepidation in this creature's presence, no sense of impending doom to come crashing down upon me. I don't know what he wants, but I am going to find out. My eyes stay locked on the clean lines of Azariel's profile, his presence bolstering my courage in some odd way. "You two can go now."
"Sabine..." It's Gabriel's turn. Azariel tosses him a warning look also, but Gabe ignores it. He's good at ignoring warning signs. "Are you sure?" Now he wants ask me that? I smile ruefully and shake my head. "Yes, Gabe. I'm sure. Go." They take their time about leaving, suddenly finding a million excuses for sticking around. I wait, impatient, my gaze fixed on Azariel's face, but he won't look at me. He knows that I've figured his secret out and won't meet my eyes directly. But it's all right I have plenty of time. Finally, finally, the door closes with a soft click behind them and we are alone. Tension vibrates between us like a guitar string drawn too tight and then I snap it. "Why, Dante? What gives?" His breath hisses out sharply and he rocks forward on the balls of his feet. "What do you mean?" "I mean why the subterfuge? Why not just, ah hell. Look, lose the Brad Pitt look. It's so not you." He shrugs, looks down at the floor, and begins to shift while I close my eyes, having gotten my fill of the disgusting process. "How did you know?" He asks after a moment in the warm, husky voice I have gotten used to from him. I open my eyes and look him over, feeling a gentle tug at my heartstrings. He has switched from the elegant black suit to well-worn jeans and a long sleeve dark jade tee shirt that matches his eyes, deep and intense as I remember. His shoulder-length sable hair is oddly mussed, as though he has been standing in the wind and his even features are twisted with a lost little boy guilty look that makes me smile.
"I think it's your scent. You smell is unique." He cocks his head and grins at me. "Is that good?" I shrug and sidestep in a delicate evasive manoeuvre. "Depends on whether you like that sort of thing." Truth is, I do like the way he smells. It's somewhere between the heavy, charged air just before a thunderstorm and the thick, warmth of summer breezes. He inclines his head, ceding the point to me, and jams his hands into his pockets. "Is this your true form?" I ask. "It's the one I spend most of my time in, yes. It's the body of my last incarnation..." His voice trails off sadly. "Dante?" I guess. He nods if I need confirmation. "What about all that stuff you were telling me tonight? About your sister and the peacock? Was that all bullshit?" I ask, crossing my arms across my chest. I'm feeling a little betrayed now, it seems everyone has lied to me tonight. What is it about me that invites prevarication? "It happened. Several hundred years ago, granted, but it happened. Ruth was my sister last time around." Again his voice trails off and I feel a pang of regret having reminded him of this.
I pull myself up short. Christ, Sabine, he is a demon. How can you feel sorry for a demon? It just doesn't seem at all real. This is Dante, the new guy at school, not some ravening beast. And yet, I've seen him take that form, so how can I doubt? "What do you want from me?" The question comes out tentative because I would rather just sit and talk all night instead of confronting whatever lay beneath the smiling surface of this charming young man. "A night." He says easily. "Just a night." It doesn't feel easy from where I'm standing. "A night for what?" I push. "You want to sit and have a conversation? You want to play poker? You want to screw me? What?" He slants a sharp, narrowed gaze toward me, obviously unhappy about something, my calculated obtuseness? I like him, but I won't make it easy for him. He takes a step closer, reaches out and frames my face with his large, smooth palms. I swallow hard, mouth suddenly dry and struggle to meet his eyes. God, the hunger there makes me weak. "I want to make love with you." He says slowly, with great care, fingertips gentle in my hair. "I'll leave the screwing to someone else. Will you let me do that?" Do I have a choice? I thought I relinquished that when Gabriel and Spencer walked out the door. My thoughts have slowed and are sticky and difficult. Will I let him??? Will I? Spencer... the name surfaces into my dreamy haze but he isn't here and he doesn't want me anyway. I shove the stray thought away, shivering under Dante's heated gaze and burning touch. I want to... oh, sweet heaven how I want to let this happen. And didn't I already agree to it?
Anyone would think me the lowest form of life to respond so to one man while thinking of another. Certainly I feel myself to be lower than dirt, but it is simply too much for me to resist. I like Dante and he's visually fairly well endowed. He strokes one thumb over my lower lip in the barest of whisper of a touch, pinning me in place with just his eyes. My whole body strains toward him, aching to be pressed full length against him and I wonder what he is seeing. The thought douses me with a bucket of cold reality and I remember I am a mess, with spent tears and snot streaking my face. I flush, pull back, breathe deep. "Can I - just shower?" I ask in a voice so full and taut with longing I scarcely recognize it as my own. The etched planes of his face are oddly flattened with tension and his eyes flicker but he drops his hands and nods. Permission granted.
I close the bathroom door with a sense of relief at my reprieve, temporary as it is. I have already given myself to him in my mind. I strip quickly and adjust the water temperature, pleased to see only the finest tremor in my hand. I've never done this before, you see, been with a man. I wonder if he will be disappointed. Then I wonder why I care. This is blackmail, pure and simple, why should I care whether Dante gets what he is looking for or not? I step into the shower and rinse away the tears, the snot and the rank odor of fear-tainted sweat with a sigh of relief. The hot water feels divine. Then a wash of cold air hits me and I feel a tremor in my belly. He must have decided not to wait. I turn toward the wall, eyes still closed, water sluicing down over the curve of my shoulders and down my back. I hear the shower curtain being drawn back, feel the air temperature change... and then he is here, with me, the heat of his body more intense than the warmth of the water. "Mind if I join you?" He asks in a low, strained voice. I shake my head, curling my fingers into my palms and pressing them into the wall. Yes, I do, but...ah...his hands close over my shoulders and carefully move the waist length mass of hair over my shoulder, exposing the back of my neck. Without touching any other part of me, he presses an open mouthed kiss against my nape, rough tongue scraping across the fine hairs. I drop my head to the wall, gasping with pleasure and shaking in response.
And that is the beginning. How do I describe where he took me? If it had been painful or violent, it would have been much easier to resist. It wasn't fair that evil should be so beautiful, but what more was he than a fallen angel? That was what I thought of him anyway. He was, in truth, much more than a fallen angel, but I didn't know that then. I assumed then that he simply dealt in temptation as part of his existence, that he would have no trouble in hooking me completely. He took my body to such heights the likes of which I had never seen before and never found again - of course I am still young, so I still have hope. I revelled, gloried, luxuriated in his touch, moaned, sobbed, begged and whimpered for more, and when it was all over, my body was gorged but my heart still starved and it made me ache.
Dante has been nothing but kind to me, and it is difficult to comprehend the evil he must be capable of. I cannot, in fact, grasp it with any degree of success. I lay nestled against him with my head on his shoulder, sweeping my palm over his bare chest, languid, sensual. "Mmm, that was incredible." The appreciation surprises a harsh laugh from him. "You're welcome, I'm sure." My hand pauses and then I continue to stroke him like a cat, trying to decide whether to ask the question that has been nagging me ever since he began to burn me from the inside out. "One question... what happened to Cara?" At this point, I don't believe he was responsible for her death. If he had raped me, or hurt me in some way it would be different, but his touch is so gentle... "I killed her." Azariel replies in a tone devoid of emotion, the response sending a jolt through my heart. My hand freezes in mid stroke as I grapple with the answer. Sensing the turmoil his reply generated, he hugs me a bit closer. "I'm a demon, Cariad. You understand that? Killing people is what we do best, second only to our ability to win souls." Well, I knew that, but... somehow I couldn't imagine anyone who made love to me the way he did being capable of the brutality I knew had been visited upon Cara. "But... but why?" I can't leave it alone. I pull away and sit up, dragging the covers pointlessly up to my chin. "What did she do? All I heard was grunts and groans and happy stuff. What happened?"
He flips on his side and props his head in one hand, his gaze steady on my shadowed face. "I thought she was the one I was looking for, but I was wrong. She didn't have what I needed and I'm afraid I lost my temper. It happens more frequently than you might imagine." Well, he has me there. It would have to happen more frequently than I imagined considering I had never really thought about demons before. Still, the answer only gives rise to more questions. "What were you looking for?" I ask absently, still troubled. "You." "Dante " He presses his strong fingers against my lips to silence me. "Shhh... I know, little one. Your heart belongs to that stupid bastard who doesn't know how to keep it safe. It's all right." He soothes, stroking his way down the line of my jaw. I press into the caress in apology. He's right. "What is it you want from me?" I finally dare to ask. "What you so freely give him. That incredible loyalty he hasn't earned. But I will just have to settle for your body." He rolls over on me and I am surprised to find I am melting just as fast as I did the first time, maybe faster now that I know what to expect. It effectively postpones the discussion until the next lull.
"Why did you want a night with me, anyway? You're a demon. Surely you could have sex with whomever you chose. Why me?" "You ask too many question, Cariad." Dante teases, hedging the question. "Please tell me." "It doesn't matter, Sabine. Don't ask that, please." He reaches for me but I pull away. I will not be dissuaded or distracted this time. This time I will have my answers.
"I am asking. Tell me." A half smile quirks the corner of his lips up and he holds his hand out to me, palm up. "I'll tell you what. Before I leave in the morning, I will tell you what I was looking for. I don't want to waste any of the precious time I have with you. All right?" I don't like it. I'm not entirely sure how much I trust him, but I slowly lay my hand in his and allow myself to be pulled close again. My name is a caress sliding off his lips against the arched curve of my throat, burning the skin, branding me forever.
It's a long, sweaty, passionate night, but I'm only human. I do not have the stamina or reserves of a demon. Dante finally allows me to fall asleep so close to dawn the black sky has already turned slightly greyish. I am so exhausted, I have forgotten to push the issue of what he wanted from Cara. When I awake, bright, noonday sun streams in around heavy brocade curtains and I am alone.
I knew it would be this way, that he would simply slip away in the night without allowing me to say good-bye, but what I didn't realize was how it would claw at my chest and how damned much it would hurt. I crumple the sheets in my fists and bend over to bury my nose in his pillow to catch the last of his scent. Oh Dante....
The envelope slides off the pillow to gently nudge my hand. I stare at it as though it were a snake, terribly reluctant to open it. If I don't, I will not have to face that Dante is really gone, gone for good. Then I reach for it anyway, there is nothing I can do to hold that off. He is gone, back to wherever he came from. Seventh level of the ethereal plane was it? I shiver at the thought, my heart aching at the image of him returning there. When did this happen, anyway? I wonder with a tinge of dread. When did I begin to care more for Dante than just as a friend? I'm not in love with him, but I do love him, and I think I might be capable of falling in love with him were I given more than a single night.
I open the sealed letter with great care and smooth the pages out flat. His handwriting is bold and striking, vibrant with energy.
My dearest Sabine - I've much to tell you and so very little time left. Already dawn is creeping in and I am feeling drawn back to the ethereal plane. Yet you are sleeping so peacefully, I long to gather you in my arms and keep you safe for all eternity. Of course, that cannot be. I am bound to servitude and chained to the ethereal plane. I wish - no. It is of no consequence what I wish. I have a confession to make, well, more than one actually. The truth is, I tricked you into spending the night with me. For you only to know, I would have had to return this dawn to the Plane anyway. The summoning is bounded by a specific time frame. Whatever you do, don't tell them that. They would have every demon on the Plane summoned to earth and that wouldn't be good.
I'm sorry it had to be that way, but I would do it again just to be with you.
My second confession is that I didn't kill Cara. I never touched her, never wanted her, and I have no idea who did kill her. But I have my suspicions. I've seen a lot of blood sacrifices in my day and this had all the trappings. Be careful love. They blamed her murder on me, asked me to take the responsibility, but I never wanted the silly bitch. At one time, I thought she was the answer to my problems, but she wasn't and I didn't need to get that close to know it.
You ask me what I wanted from her and then from you. I suppose you do have the right to know, if only to make sure you never find yourself in this situation again. If ever a demon asks for a night with you, run away. Don't ever; ever agree to such a thing. You see, there is only one way off the ethereal plane and that is if you can find someone to change places with you. It doesn't have to be voluntary but it does have to be the right someone. The other demons told me all about it long ago, that I would know if I came across such a person and that if I ever did, I would have my chance. I've never met anyone like you before and I knew from the beginning that you were the one. I could have absorbed your soul, I wanted to, when I touched you that first night, I nearly lost control and took you. But I made a fatal mistake and got to know you and came to love you. I couldn't do it then. I wanted - well, I wanted you to love me, but your loyalty is already spoken for. So be it. I wish you only happiness, but do think of me from time to time. Now you know the story. Thank you for my night, Cariad. I will treasure the memories always. Love, Dante.
My cheeks are damp with tears by the time I finish the letter. I trace my fingers over the letters, letting the power of the words flow into me. I haven't figured out what I am going to do now. My insides are a mass of conflicting emotions wrapped in a tangle of grief. I need to get moving, to get showered, dressed, out of here before Spencer and Gabriel return. If they come back, that is. I don't really want to have to deal with them right now mostly because I don't know what to say or do. I spare a fleeting thought for my parents, wondering what they think and whether they believe I am missing.
I shower, dress quickly, and head home. It's an incredibly long walk but I welcome the time to sort myself out. In the end, I tell the police nothing and Cara's killer is never apprehended. I have no proof and I can scarcely imagine Spencer or Gabriel doing such a thing. I want to believe in them even more than I wanted to believe in Dante but I was too afraid of the answer to ask. I'm naive - you can say it.... Had there been any more murders like that, though I would have told them what I knew. It's a lame excuse, I know and doesn't make any of it right.
Someone convinced my parents I was spending the night with a friend and weren't worried when I showed up so late. I suspect Dante arranged things, but I'll never know for sure. They were right, by the way. There is no park behind the public pool - Dante created that little scene just for me. I went back later just to see it too, shit, it was a nice park. That's all. I didn't go to feel closer to Dante or to remember him, I went because I liked the way it looked and felt. I can lie to myself very well, thank you very much. I did find a community center, the YWCA and a Mormon church, but no park with a quaint stone shelter and a huge fireplace. How did he know I would find that romantic?
To my knowledge, the boys never did anything that stupid again, at least they never called upon me to bail them out again. I still loved Spencer quite hopelessly, he still loved Gabriel, and Gabriel... well, I think Gabriel loved himself. I didn't spend much time with them after Dante because I didn't know whether the demon was levelling or not and it seemed most prudent. Of course, I doubt they wanted to spend time with me in any case. It was likely more of a relief than anything when I quit hanging around. I backed out of theater entirely and rarely saw either of them.
One notable event happened in our senior year when Gabriel suggested we spend the night together. He was concerned that college was coming up there were a lot of people he had never had sex with and would never have the chance to. I was included in that select group, but alas, I turned him down. What became of us? We all went our separate directions, of course. Spencer wound up at North-western University studying psychology and religion. Last I heard, he was happily paired up with a lovely young singer - truthfully, I don't know if it's male or female. Gabriel headed off to the Southwest, the University of New Mexico, to study theatre. I ran into him later and he introduced me to the love of his life. He was just as fit and elegant as ever but she weighed in at least a hundred pounds heavier than me, but he seemed happy. I wondered what that should tell me.
And me? Well, I went on to study English at a small, private college. I don't get out much don't have too many friends. My encounter with Dante left me closer to hell than I ever thought I would get. Having sex with a demon who specializes in temptation doesn't leave much room for satisfaction in the mundane things in life. I muddle along as best I can, though, and try not to remember the night I spent touching the face of heaven.
