‘I think you confused your conflicted feelings on desire with your feelings on being here, sweet Dina,’ said the star as the young angel grimaced, almost shaking his head.‘You drank too much, and you felt the affection of a man; you aren’t thinking right.If you were, you’d remember that you were never doing this for that archangel Uriel.You were doing it for God.It’s what He desires; you read it in His scripture for yourself.He will love you if you do it.You want to be loved by God, don’t you, Dina?’
‘I do,’ the angel surrendered, ‘more than anything.’He supposed he should crave God’s love more than Uriel’s; he supposed that is how a good angel should feel.
‘To fulfill the prophecy of Revelation, you will have to sin.You may have to lie, to covet.How the angels have had to kill humans for God, you will have to commit some sin for the greater good.’The star paused, then it asked, ‘Have you ever pleasured yourself with your hands, Dina?’The angel gripped at the bedsheets as his muscles tensed, and his cheeks warmed.‘It wasn’t a sin once to do it.In the time before Satan, there was no sin, just acts of pleasure and acts of pain.When time has ended, there will be no such word for sin anymore.You may be able to feel pleasure again how that man made you feel.Do you want to?’
Dina swallowed thickly, and he remembered the stranger again, his hands on his hips, his waist, the man’s huffing, and the building heat in between the angel’s legs, the almost painful tightness that had nearly bent his knees unwillingly.He imagined having knelt, then, unable to hold himself up, staring up at the man as if he were God.His sighing face nearly pressed to a clothed pelvis.“I shouldn’t.”‘I shouldn’t want it.I shouldn’t have hoped he’d grab my hair and force me down onto my knees.’
‘But you do want it.You want to do what you shouldn’t.Bring your hand between your legs.’Dina was relieved it was a command, that he didn’t have to live with the guilt of doing it on his own accord.Apsinthos was very considerate, he thought.The star was kind to him, perhaps more than Uriel.And he couldn’t fall the way Azazel or Armoni had; he was already here.Trailing a hand down from waist to thigh, the young angel glanced down between his legs.‘Closer.’Biting his lip, Dina palmed properly at the place of damning and, sharp, gasped, toes curling at the new sensation, hips stuttering up.‘Run it up, down.’He did, caressing with his fingers and instantly clenching his eyes shut.Inside his abdomen, it felt as if a knot was tightening, tightening.‘Slowly.’His hands trembled, but they ran up, down — just as ordered — up, down.‘Sin feels right, doesn’t it?’
Quicker, Dina’s fingers worked, and he had to bite down hard on his cheeks when a sudden jolt of a sound almost spilled from his lips.His hips continued rocking forward, chasing his touch, moving together as if reeled on the same hook, and his free hand went behind him, grasping the pillow he’d slept on before he might fall over.Breaths were coming shorter, refusing to stay in his mouth, as if he were running, chasing.What could he be chasing?All he knew for sure was that his fingers were damp now, as if he were working them into his mouth.He imagined that, the weight of something in his mouth.He imagined weight, over him, his entire self.
The face of Apsinthos came to mind, his fiery features and enormous size.How warm would it feel to be held down by the bright body of a star?How warm would it feel to have a star burn his way inside and fill the angel with flames?
When Dina’s thighs were spasming, the star said, ‘Finish.Do it for me.’
The angel, blinded by need, felt the throb in him almost painfully now, the discomfort like a limb tied down, like an urge turned panicked need.He couldn’t stop his gasps anymore, though he kept them as soft as he could, trying to ignore the noises of the house.‘Apsinthos, are you looking at me?Do you like seeing this?’His body jerked, as if revolting against the goodness twisting him up inside.One foot kicked helplessly, and he turned his face, eyelids half-closed.‘Please.’He slapped a hand over his mouth as he finished, overwhelmed by the pulsing sensation of pleasure in him, so strong that he was certain he’d died of ecstasy and risen up to the stars himself, met Apsinthos again with his great smile, his fire hair.Dina would be tiny in his palm, but if the gorgeous sun lifted him, Dina would get on the tips of his toes to brush his lips on his.
‘Apsinthos,’ he thought without meaning to, his pale wings partly fluttered out of him, his skin feeling too tight over every scorched thing that made an angel up.‘I want to see you again, Apsinthos.’He wanted to kiss him, wanted the world to end how all stories ended — with a true love’s kiss.
‘When it all ends, we will be together, angel.’And the angel smiled.He had felt good, and he was happy.
Elsewhere — a pink-haired demon woman was sitting leg-crossed at the other end of a coffee table in a crowded café.She was holding a smoking cigarette, shortened to about half its full length between her fingers, and her bright red lips were pursed in annoyance beneath hefty sunglasses.“There’s not much I can do.Even if he doesn’t have me dragged back to Hell, he has more than enough power to have me take the fall for all his crimes here on Earth.That’s why he has me be his accomplice, I think — not because hereallyneeds me to bring him weapons or anything, but to make sure that if I ever step out of line, he can have me thrown in human prison.”When the demon on the other side of the table snorted, Gemory, the demon woman, sighed and insisted: “You don’t know how good he is at framing people.”
“I’m well-aware,” said the demon duke Asmodeus, “of howexcellenthe is at blaming others for his own actions, actually.”He was dressed in a gray wool coat, sleek pants, leather dress shoes, a golden ring, a silver watch, and a black face mask over the end of his nose to his chin.For the last two or three centuries, Asmodeus’ onyx-colored hair had been trimmed short to create messy bangs at the front whereas the back was sweeping a few finger-widths past the nape of his neck.As for the infernal horns the great demon used to carry, they were not what they used to be — they had both been broken long ago, then sawed flat closer to his skull, almost entirely hidden in his dark hair.“But you shouldn’t feel guilty, Gemory.I owe you plenty for trying to keep this… quiet.”
Gemory breathed in slow, then tapped the end of her cigarette out on the ashtray on the table.Typically, she’d be more careful with how she moved, how loudly she spoke in their demonic language, but there was no better place to hide a devil than in a crowd.“I warned you,” she said lowly, “that you couldn’t keep this up long.Were you really only here forfun?”
Months ago, the demon duke of lust had rolled over in bed, settled his mouth over the half-asleep fallen angel of fruit.He’d drunk his gasp, then reached to play with Rosier’s necklace as he kissed him some more.Whispering, Asmodeus had said they should go to Earth.Rosier, softly, had asked, ‘Have you asked Satan?Or Baal?’But Asmodeus had said their approval didn’t matter.If Satan had the audacity to care so much, then he should be here to stop them.Then, he’d kissed at Rosier’s cheek, then his neck, and said, ‘Let’s leave, darling.’Wrapping an arm around him and squeezing firmly.‘I’ll marry you again.There are some places left on Earth where we haven’t wed, and I don’t want to stop marrying you until every grain of dirt has known that I love you.’Rosier, such a soft demon, surrendered to this, of course.
Asmodeus said, “I told you.It was business.”That wasn’t a lie.“The clubs do well enough without me being here to manage them, but there are always legal issues, journalists to get rid of.”There was always someone who looked too deep into the scars that certain clubbers would leave the building with; contrary to popular belief, organ harvesting didn’t often kill the victim, and their victimhood itself wasn’t an easy thing to argue for.They would sign papers, they would receive a decent payment, and they would leave in some pain but happy to afford another meal.Asmodeus never considered himself so evil; it was the humans who bought, and it was the humans who sold.All he got out of the exchange was a cut of money and some new body parts.He wasn’t so monstrous anymore, hadn’t been for many, many centuries now; on the outside, that is; he couldn’t speak for what existed beneath his skin.“Hell is also miserable.”
Gemory abandoned her stubbed cigarette and crossed her arms.“Worse than it was last time I was back home?”She said ‘home’ slow, bitterly.
“Well, right before we left, Baal whipped Moloch for trying to free some demons from the prison.”Asmodeus chuckled over the other demon’s sigh.“He’s not very bright — that Baal.Satan would be smarter than that.He would have created division between Moloch and his friends.Divide and conquer, the humans call it.For as much of a bitch and bastard that Satan is — he was good at ruling Hell.”‘And so why haven’t you been in Hell anymore, Lucifer?’he wondered.‘What won’t you tell us?’
“Hello, hello,” came a kind voice nearby just as Asmodeus smiled and Gemory rolled her eyes.“Forgive me for the wait.The line was longer than I thought it’d be.”With both hands, the demon Rosier held a pastry — a horn-shaped bread with a drizzle of chocolate — on a simple, small plate.Like Asmodeus, he had a wedding band, but he also had a deceptively simple engagement ring that must’ve cost the price of a city home or two.“What’s happening?”He wore a sweater, a scarf, and a close-fitting knit cap.Long ago, he too had his horns sawed close to his head, and though he hadn’t cut his obsidian-colored hair any shorter, he now tied back some strands of it.
“The devil isn’t happy,” Gemory muttered.
“He never is…” Rosier finally set the plate down on the table, between Asmodeus and him, then settled on the chair beside his husband’s.“But, I suppose, we’ll have to return then?”As he spoke, the duke reached and took one of his hands, running his thumb over Rosier’s knuckles.When Gemory noticed it, she remembered how terribly she’d craved Asmodeus’s gentle touch once, and it was both tragic and wonderful not to crave it anymore.Sometimes the birth of desire can only be bested in joy by the death of desire.
Asmodeus said, “We should go willingly.”
Rosier looked over at him, blinking twice.“Are you sure?”
It had been a wonderful few months; it really had been.“I don’t think it’d be a good idea to bring Satan’s wrath down upon us, not right now.”While Asmodeus would often go to his clubs, Rosier had never enjoyed it.He’d say, ‘No, no — I’ll stay home,’ one of Asmodeus’ many expensive condos across the globe, high on a tower with a perfect view of the skyline.Though Rosier hadn’t liked Earth as much in the past century, he’d found it very nice at times to walk in the dark; many times, Asmodeus would join him.Though, there had been difficult days between them, as well.Many of them.
The duke felt Gemory’s pitiful gaze; though her sunglasses hid it.Asmodeus said, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”He nodded forward.“And I can’t ask Gemory to risk her life for us anymore.”At that, she laughed.
“I did it for you, Asmodeus.You’re my friend,” she replied.“I would really like to think that we can be friends, anyway.”Gemory paused, then looked at Rosier, who parted his lips, then disentangled his hand from Asmodeus’ to reach for the croissant.“And I wouldn’t wish Satan on my worst enemy.”Rosier tore a third of the pastry off, then he extended it to Gemory, wordlessly, with nothing more than a nervously sweet shine in his faux hazel eyes, but she shook her head solemnly.“You have it.Who knows when you’ll get to have another human pastry?”
The demon of fruit hesitated, and he wished he could have said something, but he didn’t know what would suffice to convey what he wasn’t sure he felt.
In Tadeo’s home, the anti-Christ had just returned.He came in through the doorway, shut it with all the locks behind, then grabbed the hat off his head and set it down on the nearest table.For once, he’d traversed the town without a firearm, figured it wouldn’t be necessary for the short trip he was making to the hospital, a mere ten-minute walk away.‘How,’ Tadeo had asked, ‘is he doing?’The doctor in his office had sighed, glanced over at his secretary-nurse past the open door into the waiting area, then told Tadeo quietly that Dante’s hand was beyond repair, and that the soldier was still in an urgent care room on the first floor, not speaking to anyone.‘I’m sorry for making you do this,’ Tadeo had wanted to say, unsure now if he’d even said it.With a sigh, he stepped into the living room, where Joana was watching the television with his mother beside her, as usual.
“So is he dead?”Joana asked simply, not looking at him.
Tadeo swallowed, then moved across the room, headed for a door near the bathroom, where he was sharing a room with the angel.“Are my grandparents home?”
