“Well, the first time I saw you was in the breakfast hall with Ramel and Shem, and then I saw you again later that day at the wedding. I was one of your original Watchers, so I attend most ceremonies to solidify bonds.”
My face flushed with shame, and I dropped my gaze, suddenly feeling absolutely humiliated that Jezebel had seen me be both publicly fingered and fucked. She frowned and made a soothing noise in the back of her throat.
“Hey, don’t be embarrassed. You and Ramel are hot asfucktogether. Public shit like that is super common in Hell, and let me tell you, there are way less attractive couples boning each other on the regular in the dining hall. Don’t worry about it.”
I glanced up at her, expecting to see judgment in her eyes despite her kind words, but I only found concern and compassion. “Oh,” was all I said.
“Listen, we’re all just excited to have you here and see you and Ramel back together.” She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the bar, looking at me with something close to adoration on her face. “I was the first demon you gave the option to switch genders to; did you know that?” she asked, and my eyes widened. I hadn’t known that.
She nodded. “Yep. Yahweh doesn’t allow His angels to take the female form… We think it has something to do with his preference for males.”
Art’s eyes darkened at this, and I didn’t miss how his grip tightened on his pint glass. I frowned. That other version of me that was still floating under a thin veil of forgotten memories grew angry for a moment.
“I never felt right in that form. I always knew I was on the female end of the spectrum, but Yahweh would never condone a shift like that. He always said He made His creations perfect, and He knew best. You on the other hand…” She reached out and laid her hand over mine affectionately. “You always wanted us to be happy. You never pretended to know what we wanted better than we did. You always did your best to make Hell a place free of judgment, where demons could bedemons,and we could explore every dark, depraved corner of ourselves without fear of punishment. Youfreedus, Lilith.”
Art nodded next to her, taking a grim sip of his beer. “She’s right, Lil. It’s why we’ve all remained loyal to you, even though you’ve been away for nearly five thousand years.”
“I’m glad,” I said softly, surprised at the tenderness in each of their faces. I glanced around the bar and noticed a few more female demons enter, dressed for a night out in short dresses and high heels. They grinned and waved at us before sitting at one of the tables and opening a drink menu.
“So everyone here started as a male angel?” I asked, and Jezebel nodded.
“Yep. Those girls over there weren’t part of the original sixty-six but left Heaven to join us after seeing what you had done for me.”
I smiled. Maybe Hell wasn’t all bad. These demons seemed happy and well taken care of. As twisted as Ramel and Shem seemed to be, I was beginning to understand their insistence that I would be happy here.
“Why were you working at Voodoo?” I asked.
Jezebel looked sheepish for a minute but shrugged. “I was sent by Ram to watch you with Shem. Even when he hated you, he had this obsessive need to always have eyes on you.”
I sighed.Figures.
“So what happened? Why did you quit?”
“It was almost your birthday, and Ramel was supposed to step in and get close to you and try to make your transition easier. He was meant to replace me, but that didn’t really go as planned.” She winced. “I heard he killed Sam. Sorry about that.”
Knowing that Sam had been reincarnated softened the bitterness I felt about Ramel killing him, but not entirely. Sam still had a family that I was sure mourned him. It was this constant dichotomy of kindness, love, and ruthless darkness that always left me feeling off balance in this new world.
None of this matters in the grand scheme of things. Mortals live brief lives. The world spins on.
I frowned. That thought hadn’t been entirely mine. It felt like it belonged to the other version of myself. The ancient version of me that saw a human life the way a mortal might regard the life of a mayfly. Short and insignificant.
I shook off the odd sensation of sharing my brain and took another sip of my drink to quell the thoughts.
Jezebel interrupted my internal battle with another bright smile and a question. “So, Lilith, tell me. Have you decided what you’re going to wear to the feast?”
Alexa, play ‘older,’ by Isabel LaRosa
“The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.”
—JEANETTE WALLS, THE GLASS CASTLE (2017)
By my third cocktail, my cheeks hurt from laughing so much. I would have lost track of time if it hadn’t been for Art. He tugged my sleeve and pointed to the clock over the bar regretfully. I gasped.
It was quarter to six. I needed to gonow,or I was going to be late for curfew.
“Shit, I have to run.”
Literally.
