Damned If You Do

by Marie Sexton

“I suspect he has his reasons for choosing the time of his death.”

  Death.

  This was Abaddon’s fault. Seth was afraid to face his death alone, and so he’d chosen to call the snakes now, before Hell took Abaddon away. If only he hadn’t told Seth, and yet what else could he have done?

  Grief stabbed at his abdomen, bending him in half. Zed had to hold him up to keep him from falling. “No! Dammit, no! Don’t do this!” He’d never felt as helpless as he did now, watching Seth soak up somebody else’s disease, knowing it would kill him. It made him furious. He felt the power stir and quake inside him. He could burn the whole revival to the ground. He could kill them all. He could—

  Seth turned his head, his blind eyes pinning Abaddon where he stood, blazing with the ferocity of a dying soul. “You promised.”

  It was only a whisper, but it struck at Abaddon’s heart. A sob broke in his chest. He didn’t even care that Zed still held him.

  It felt like they stayed there forever—Seth on the floor, holding the woman’s hands. Zed in the aisle, holding Abaddon up—but it could only have been a minute. Finally, Seth pushed to his feet. Behind him, the woman in the wheelchair rose as well. The crowd cheered. Thaddeus began to proclaim the grace of God. The choir began to sing. Nobody seemed to notice that Seth’s sweet, devout life was about to end.

  “Go,” Zed said softly, letting Abaddon go. “Bring him away from the tent, as quickly as you can. Thaddeus must never know that tonight is different.”

  Abaddon barely got there in time, catching Seth as he fell. A few of the congregants gasped, backing up.

  “Just give them some room!” Thaddeus cried.

  The crowd seemed half-afraid, half-jubilant. Voices shouted, “Me! Heal me!”

  “Give them space,” Thaddeus cried again. “The Lord’s touch is a powerful thing—”

  Abaddon scooped Seth up in his arms, carrying him up onto the stage, toward the back door of the tent, choking on his tears, hating the sounds of celebration behind him. “You lied to me.”

  Seth hung limp in his arms, barely able to hold his eyes open. “Had to… Before you were gone…”

  Abaddon stumbled out the back door of the tent and toward Seth’s trailer. It felt like it was miles away. He’d never make it. Zed was nowhere to be seen.

  “Here,” Seth whispered. “Stop here.”

  It was a relief to obey. His whole body was shaking. Abaddon sank to the ground, holding Seth close, crying like a child. “Why did you lie to me? We could have had a few days at least.”

  Seth shook his head. His face looked almost yellow against the bloody gore of his ruined neck and the shredded collar of his once-white shirt. How many snakes must have come? “It’s easier this way.”

  “Easier for who?”

  “I lied about one other thing too.”

  “What?”

  “About who owns my soul.”

  “No!”

  “I give it willingly to you.”

  “Don’t say that!”

  “I mean it, Abaddon.” He gasped, arching his back as in pain. “I cede my soul—”

  “I won’t take it!”

  “You have to.”

  A sob tore from Abaddon’s chest, and he held Seth tighter. Behind him, the sound of music swelled from the tent, the notes empty and meaningless without Seth’s contribution. “I won’t!”

  “My eyes,” Seth whispered, his voice weaker. “Let me see you again. Please.”

  It took a moment for Abaddon to push his grief aside enough to realize what the words meant. Another moment to gather the strength and the focus, but finally, he placed his fingers against Seth’s temple. Tears flowed down his cheeks as readily as the power surged through his fingers, and Seth’s pupils at last found focus. He looked directly into Abaddon’s eyes, and Abaddon felt the wondrous power of Seth’s soul. He felt the scalding flare that told him it was about to burn out forever.

  “I love you,” Abaddon gasped. “Oh God, I love you so much, I think it’s killing me. I didn’t even know I could, but I do.”

  Seth reached up and laid his hand against Abaddon’s cheek. “But you don’t want to take me with you.”

  He thought the pain would tear him in half, but he forced himself to maintain contact. To keep Seth’s vision intact for just a bit longer. “No. You don’t belong where I reside. You deserve better than that.”

  Seth smiled, looking as peaceful as he ever had. “‘And if a kingdom be divided against itself, that kingdom cannot stand. And if a house be divided against itself, that house cannot stand. And if Satan rise up against himself, and be divided, he cannot stand, but hath an end.’”

  “You fool,” Abaddon sobbed. “Spouting biblical bullshit until the end, you damned fool!”

  “‘All sins shall be forgiven unto the sons of men.’”

  Abaddon lost all control then, over both his emotions and his power. Seth’s eyes again lost focus, and Abaddon felt the loss like a knife in his heart. No matter what verses Seth might recite, there was no saving him now. And once he crossed over, he’d be out of Abaddon’s reach forever. He needed only to accept the offer of Seth’s soul in order for them to be together, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t condemn Seth to an eternity in Hell. Abaddon had to let him go. He couldn’t afford to doubt. He couldn’t afford to change his mind, no matter how much it hurt. He could do nothing but hold Seth and weep.

  “Peace and love to you, brother,” Seth whispered. “Peace and love.”

  And Abaddon continued to hold him as the glorious wonder of Seth’s soul faded into darkness.

  * * * * *

  He didn’t know how long he sat there, clutching Seth’s limp body.

  He’d feel this pain for an eternity. It was a worse punishment than living in Hell.

  “Abaddon.” Zed was suddenly there, kneeling in front of him, gripping Abaddon’s arms, shaking him, although his voice was hushed. “Come with me. There isn’t much time.”

  Abaddon made himself look up. He could barely force his numb mind to work. “Wh-what?”

  Zed gripped him harder. His eyes seemed to blaze as he leaned closer. “I know what you are, Abaddon, Harvester of Souls. And I know what you were before. Now, it is time for you to know me.” It wasn’t just his eyes that were blazing. All around him, Abaddon detected a faint glow, burning brighter as he tried to focus on it. And peeking up over Zed’s shoulders, he caught the faint outline of white wings.

  No wonder Zed’s dark eyes had always seemed to find him, even when he drifted in the abyss. No wonder he’d been able to call to Abaddon when Seth couldn’t.

  “You’re an angel?”

  “Yes, and I can still save him, but not here, where somebody might see. Thaddeus can never know that this night is different from all the other times the snakes appeared.” In the blink of an eye, the glow was gone, leaving only plain old Zed. He stood, whirling toward Seth’s trailer. “Quickly!”

  Too stunned to do more, Abaddon obeyed, lifting Seth and following Zed across the dark expanse of grass to Seth’s trailer and through the door.

  “Lay him on the bed.”

  Abaddon didn’t want to let go of him, but Zed took Seth’s body from his arms.

  “It’s too late.” Abaddon’s voice was hoarse from crying. “Even for you—”

  “Not yet, it isn’t.” Zed laid Seth on the bed and crouched over him, his hands on Seth’s head.

  “If you know what I am, then you know what I can do. I felt—” He choked on the words, fighting back a sob. “I felt his soul leave.”

  “The boy’s heart has stopped, but his soul is as strong as ever.” Zed’s head was lowered, as if in prayer, his eyes closed. “What you felt was your own powers waning.”

  “But—”

  “He told you himself before he died. ‘If Satan rise up against hims
elf, and be divided, he cannot stand, but hath an end.’ He gambled with the devil, and he won. Now be silent and let me work!”

  Abaddon’s knees gave out. He sank to the floor, thinking back over that moment when he’d held Seth’s dying body. He’d been using his power to let Seth see one more time before he died, and it had failed, leaving Seth as blind as before. Abbadon had assumed it was grief clouding his abilities. He’d felt Seth’s glorious soul fade away, but now…

  He reached for the abyss, for the tunnel of darkness leading back to his cubicle in the Soul Acquisition Department. He reached for the familiar void that had become his home.

  There was nothing there.

  He turned next to the well of power that resided where his soul had once been—the power that let him grant wishes in exchange for souls—but found he no longer knew the way. He felt lost inside his own body. His heart still beat. The weight of grief hung heavy in his chest. His tear-burned eyes felt like they’d been blasted with sand. But he no longer knew the path that led to that devilish place inside of him.

  He lifted his hands, staring at his shaking fingers.

  No power lingered there.

  He looked up at Zed, stunned. Zed was leaning over Seth’s still form, his hands on Seth’s head, mumbling in a language Abaddon no longer recognized. The glow had returned, along with Zed’s wings. It enveloped Zed and Seth both, pulsing faintly.

  Abaddon pushed himself from his spot on the floor and sat next to Seth on the bed. Seth’s hand wasn’t cold, as he’d expected. It was as warm as ever. He wrapped his fingers around Seth’s slender wrist, feeling for a pulse.

  Hardly daring to hope.

  He watched in awe as the scars and open wounds on Seth’s neck began to fade. The pink slowly returned to his cheeks. The faint beat of blood in Seth’s veins tickled Abaddon’s fingertips, and his chest began to rise and fall in slow, easy breaths.

  “You did it!”

  The glow around Zed faded and he finally lifted his eyes.

  “Zed,” Abaddon said, having finally figured it out. “Zedekiel. Angel of mercy and freedom.”

  “It is I.”

  “You could have healed him all along.”

  “No. I can only heal mortals, and I couldn’t make him mortal until the inhuman part of him died.”

  Abaddon thought Zed was dodging the issue, but he wasn’t sure he cared. He leaned over Seth, touching his cheek. He still sensed Seth’s soul, that sweet purity that had drawn him to Seth to begin with, but not with the clarity and desperation he’d had before. The soul hunger was gone. In its place was only love and tenderness.

  “He’s mortal now,” Zed said quietly. “You both are. Do you understand what that means?”

  “He won’t be able to heal anybody anymore.”

  “Right.”

  “And we both have our souls.”

  “Yes, and a clean slate. But that also means you can both die.”

  “Will the snakes still come?”

  “Not like before, but he may encounter more of them than the average mortal. And he’s no longer immune. It is your job to keep him safe.”

  “I’ll protect him or die trying.”

  “That’s as much as I can ask.”

  Abaddon held Seth’s hand. He brushed his fingers down Seth’s cheek. Seth didn’t even stir. He glanced up at Zed. “Are you his father?”

  Zed’s laughter was loud and deep. His teeth flashed brightly against his dark skin. “A boy as soft and pink as he? You think he came from my loins?”

  Abaddon was both embarrassed and annoyed. “I don’t know how angel genetics work!”

  Zed laughed again. “No, his father was one of you. Or at least, one like you used to be. His mother…” He sighed. “His mother was like me. She was my friend.”

  “What happened?”

  “What always happens. They fell in love.” He shook his head. “Even angels seem to go for the bad boys.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “His mother was cast out as punishment. She resides as a mortal now, with no memory of Seth or his sire.”

  “And what about the father? Where is he?”

  “I cannot say. I know only that he hasn’t been seen in the mortal realm since that time. He broke many rules to stay with her through the pregnancy. Whether he was discovered and his Earth-traveling powers revoked, or whether he simply doesn’t care is anybody’s guess, but I suspect the former.”

  “Has it happened before? Angels and devils reproducing, I mean.”

  “Only a couple dozen times, in all these eons. The results are always unpredictable. Some become prophets and saints. Some go the other way and do unspeakable things. But all of them die before their twenty-fifth birthdays.”

  “Is that why you decided to watch over him?”

  “I was the only one left who knew of his existence. I watched from a distance, at first. He was safe enough with the Rainbow people, even after his father died. But then, when he was about to turn nineteen, he became restless. He began talking of leaving the congregation and going out into the world on his own.”

  “He told me about that.”

  Zed shook his head. “I couldn’t let that happen. The risk was too great. So I came here, where I could watch him better.”

  “That’s why he went blind. He told me it happened on his nineteenth birthday, the day you arrived.”

  “Yes. Partly I did it to discourage him from leaving. But given his extraordinary heritage, I feared he’d be able to see my true form.” He chuckled. “Of course, if I’d left him his sight, he would have seen what you were immediately as well.”

  Abaddon couldn’t help but wonder how different things might have been if Seth had recognized the danger he was in from the beginning. “If you knew what I was, why on earth did you let me get so close to him?”

  “I admit, I was horrified that first time you appeared. Seth told me how he’d gambled his soul against another. He laughed about it, having no understanding that the contest had been real. I told him he must never partake in such folly again.”

  “He didn’t listen.”

  Zed shook his head. “I know. He said he wasn’t a child, and that I worried too much.”

  “And later?”

  “I was torn. I wanted to keep him as far away from you as possible. But the truth is, you made him happy. You gave him what he’s always longed for—the simple joy of falling in love—and he was brighter than I’d ever seen him.” Zed shrugged, looking out the trailer’s small window toward the revival tent. “It felt wrong to forbid him that happiness, especially knowing his days were limited. I still feared his feelings for you would be his downfall, but later… I began to have faith that you would do the right thing.”

  Abaddon rubbed his hand through his hair. It was strange, realizing that this form he’d adopted was now permanent. “How could you have faith in a devil?”

  The corner of Zed’s mouth twitched up in a grin. “Your past may be lost to you, Brother Abaddon, but not to me. You were once a good man.”

  Abaddon’s heart clenched. “I was? But how—”

  “You fell in love with the wrong person. That person betrayed you, and when a devil asked for your soul, you asked for one simple thing in return.”

  Abaddon swallowed hard, wondering. “What was it? Revenge?”

  “No. You asked for a ticket home.”

  It was strange how something so simple—something lost to him forever—could hurt so much. “Home? Where was home?”

  “In Buxton.”

  “I’m English?” Funny, how it had never occurred to him to wonder at his nationality.

  “You were, yes. And quite proud of it, at the time. Between that and your broken heart, you decided to join the army. And so on May 1st, 1915, you boarded the RMS Lusitania, bound for Liverpool.”
/>
  Understanding dawned. “And she was sunk by a German sub.”

  “Exactly.”

  Abaddon shook his head. “That explains why I hate the ocean.”

  “It does.” Zed chuckled, shaking his head. “You were a pretty lousy devil, you know.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “I think maybe it’s because your conscience never quite died. Would you like to know your true name?”

  “Oh, man.” Abaddon rubbed his hand roughly over his face and considered the question. He wasn’t sure if he understood his reluctance, but he decided to trust his heart. “Thanks, but no. I think I’ll stick with Abaddon.”

  “A wise choice. You have paid the price for your foolishness, and now you will never forget that it’s because of Seth that you have a second chance.” He stood, looking somehow more regal in his purple boubou now that Abaddon knew he was an angel. “The revival will end soon. After a healing as spectacular as that, we’ll have to leave as soon as possible, preferably before dawn. There’s a lot of work to be done. Wake him up, but be gentle about it.”

  “I will.” Zed was at the trailer door before Abaddon stopped him. “Hey, Zed? How in the world are you going to explain all this to your boss?”

  Zed’s laughter was deep. He still sounded like James Earl Jones. “My cubicle is many floors from His office. It has been eons since I’ve seen Him.” He shook his head, rubbing his chin in thought. “I don’t know what Hell is like, Abaddon, but in Heaven, there’s an awful lot of paperwork to be done. And if one or two reports get lost in the shuffle?” He held up his hands, smiling. “How can one single, overworked angel be to blame?”

  Chapter Eleven

  A Serious Shortage of Potato Chips and Beds

  Zed left, and Abaddon sat for a while, just watching Seth sleep. Seth had gambled his soul, not for his own gain, but for Abaddon’s. And somehow, they’d both won.

  He leaned closer, kissing Seth’s forehead. His eyebrows. His cheek. And when Seth finally began to stir, Abaddon moved to his lips.

  “Abaddon?”

  “Shh. Everything’s okay. Just rest for now.”

  “I thought I died.”