The Hidden Demon

by Monica La Porta

A far-away scream announced the archangel had found his voice again and was flying back to resume the torture. The angel scampered back to his corner without having the courage to say anything to the other.

  The archangel swept inside the chamber, his wings breaking what little was still standing, his face a mask of fury, his eyes obsidian pools. “You are a traitor to your race, and as punishment, you’ll be stripped of your holiness and become a demon like the very scum you are.”

  A multitude of gasps erupted in the chamber. Then the archangel walked to the column where the angel was chained and yanked the chains away, taking a part of the column with them and sending the prisoner to the floor. “You’ll always be under my radar. You won’t remember anything, but you’ll always feel your inadequacy and you’ll be constantly ashamed of yourself. Your life will be miserable, forever, and I will take great joy in knowing that.” He leaned over the angel on the floor and grabbed the almost-severed wing, pulled it up, and jerked his arm backward tearing the limb from the body.

  The angel cowering in the corner fainted.

  ****

  Peter came out of the reading screaming and rocking his head between his hands. His stomach heaved and he went to his knees and threw up for several minutes; he bore spasm after spasm until it hurt too much and his muscles didn’t contract anymore. He gasped, reeled, and his throat closed, leaving him fighting for the next breath. He felt his strength abandoning him, but wasn’t so blessed to lose consciousness. Instead, his mind played for him the reading in a constant loop he wasn’t able to escape. He was chained to that column again, his wrists locked together with metal manacles over his head, his body sagging. Never-ending pain firing through him.

  “Peter!”

  “What’s happening to him?”

  “I don’t know. He’s been like that for more than two hours now. He needs a doctor.”

  “Take my car and drive him back to Rome. I’ll ride Ophelia’s Ninja.”

  Peter heard Samuel talking to someone he vaguely recognized as Alexander, but couldn’t be sure he wasn’t imagining things. He felt like he was swimming in a thick fog where reality and nightmares collided. Nothing seemed real but the hurt cut him to pieces. His eyes open, he saw the two men’s faces superimposed on Arariel’s. They talked to him, but he heard the archangel screaming instead. They grabbed his arms to hoist him up and he felt his wings being ripped apart again. He shouted.

  Eventually, maybe a minute later, maybe an hour later, he came back to his senses. Lungs grasping for breath and aching all over, he willed himself out of that fog and found himself inside the cockpit of a car way too enclosing for his taste.

  Samuel sat on the seat besides his. “Please, pull yourself together by the time we reach Rome. If Ophelia sees you like this, she’ll scalp me.”

  At the mention of Ophelia’s name, Peter felt warmth radiating through his freezing limbs. The memory of her fiery eyes made him smile. Finally, his mind relaxed enough for him to slip into a light slumber. He woke every few seconds, but when he opened his eyes for good, he saw they had reached Rome and that it was night.

  “How do you feel?” Hands on the wheel, Samuel turned his head toward him.

  Peter lowered his eyes to his lap and shrugged.

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

  “For two thousand years, I wondered what I had done to prefer becoming a demon than living with the knowledge of my deed. I imagined all sorts of atrocities. I filled my head with the most horrible images.” Peter looked at Samuel. “I envied you.”

  The fallen’s eyes widened. “Me?”

  “Your conscience was clean. You kept your wings and your memories.”

  “Well, believe me when I tell you that I regretted my decision once or twice.”

  “Still, I bet you never felt sullied and worthless. Arariel debased me in every possible way. He stripped me of my essence. He stripped me of my will. Unlike you, I never had a chance to decide who I wanted to be.” Some of the pain in the pit of his stomach came back and he hugged himself.

  “May I ask you something?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think you knew where the remains were?”

  A sudden spasm made Peter gasp. “I know what you know. Nothing more. Whatever truth came out from that reading is going to be the extent of what I will ever know about myself.” He couldn’t help but let out a sad laugh. “But I don’t think I lied. No one could have resisted that long without cracking.” He looked outside at the familiar shape of Castel Sant’ Angelo mirrored in the Tiber’s water. “Who knows why I decided to help those two kids.”

  “Maybe you knew them.”

  Peter leaned to the side and let his head bump against the cold window. “Maybe. I’m glad though I tried to do some good as an angel.”

  Castel Sant’ Angelo was soon gone, replaced by the Tiberina Island. They had reached their destination.

  ****

  Samuel not answering her calls, Ophelia was dialing Alexander’s number when she saw his Lamborghini Urus entering the garage under the paranormal hospital. Knowing Samuel and Peter were in that car, she ran toward it and her heart stopped when she glanced at Peter’s face. She was at his door before Samuel properly stopped, but she couldn’t wait a minute longer and lowered the handle.

  “Peter—” She couldn’t talk, her hands were badly shaking, but she wouldn’t cry and make him feel worse. Her knees bent by their own volition.

  “Glad to see I still have that effect on women.” Peter gave her a small smile, then reached out his hand to brush her face.

  She leaned into his caress. “Oh, Peter…”

  “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

  The elevator dinged and an army of nurses came running their way. A wheelchair was brought forth and Ophelia was asked to move aside. She snarled as a response.

  “I need her close.” Peter took her hand as he was helped by Samuel—the only person as big as Peter and able to shoulder some of his weight—onto the chair.

  “As long as she doesn’t bite.”

  Ophelia stared down at the female nurse who had just had the audacity to say so.

  Peter patted Ophelia’s arm. “My sweet werewolf.”

  The nurse gave Ophelia a look, but was smart enough to lower her eyes and steer clear of Peter. They all boarded the elevator, and Peter was asked a barrage of questions about how he felt. He patiently told them everything they needed to know, but it was evident even talking was draining him. Ophelia wanted to send everyone away and take care of him herself. Instead of biting someone’s head off, she contented herself with caressing his hand, and whispering to him how much she loved him in between questions. He brought her hand to his lips and brushed her knuckles, then left it cupping his jaw as the nurses finished questioning him. Ophelia wished she could do something more for him.

  A doctor, the same who had treated Peter only a few days earlier, met with them as they stepped out of the elevator and directed them to the heliotherapy center. At the door, the doctor turned to Ophelia. “You must wait in the waiting room.”

  “Please, I’ll wear glasses, a mask. I’ll cover myself with a blanket, but let me stay with him.”

  The doctor sighed and gave her a small smile. “We’re not bringing the panels to his room like last time. We’re taking him to the heliotherapy chamber. He’ll be bathed by concentrated sunrays. This high-level of sun radiations are restorative to demons and angels, but they will give you skin cancer. Even with your extra strength and healing powers, I wouldn’t try. It isn’t going to kill you, but it will give you a good peeling.”

  “Call me old-fashioned but I’d rather have you with skin.” Peter tugged at her arm. “I’ll be out of it in no time.”

  Uncaring they were in public, she leaned and gave him a kiss. “I’ll be outside.”

  Followed by Samuel, Ophelia walked to the foyer adjacent the heliotherapy chamber, and let her body heavily slump in one of the comfortable couches. “It won’t be a m
inute, will it?”

  “He went through a lot in the last few days. But he’ll be fine.”

  “How can you be so sure? Have you seen the way he looks?” She had almost fainted when she had seen his ghostly pallor and the dead light in his eyes. Peter’s eyes, always full of life, ever changing with his emotions, had looked dull. She had wanted to cradle him in her arms and warm him until some color crept back in those eyes she could never tire of looking at.

  Samuel scooted over to her side of the couch. “He’ll tell you the whole story, but he discovered what happened to him and to those two kids, and it wasn’t an easy truth to swallow.”

  Ophelia had so many questions, but Samuel wasn’t the man she wanted to talk to. Samuel, her angel, the man who had taken center place in her thoughts and dreams for a very long time, was now just a friend. The longing for him she had experienced in the past had transformed. “Thank you for being with him.” She then remembered about the angel back at the casolare. “What happened to the archangel’s minion?”

  Samuel caressed his chin. “Alexander called Barnes asking what we should’ve done with our prisoner, and Barnes told us he would send enforcers to deal with him, but he didn’t care if the archangel found him first. We took him inside the casolare, tied him, and left. I guess we were lucky Arariel didn’t come for us. Or maybe the archangel has other plans—”

  Ophelia had noticed he had become fidgety in the last few minutes and his hand had gone several times to his neck, where the faintest trace of Martina’s bite showed. She patted his leg and smiled at him. “Go home. Martina needs you.”

  Samuel nervously drummed his fingers on the couch armrest. “I fed her before I left the apartment, but she’s just turned—”

  She relaxed onto the cushion, her head resting on the wall. “I understand.”

  He sat on the edge of the couch. “But I hate leaving you alone.”

  “Don’t worry about that. Ravenna and Malina are coming, and Alexander can’t stand to be separated from his enforcer, so he’ll be here soon.” She motioned for him to leave.

  He finally stood and took a few steps, but hesitated in the middle of the foyer. “I’ll come back later.”

  “I said don’t worry. This place will be a circus.” She cushioned her head with her hands and stretched her legs before her.

  “Ophelia—?”

  She heard his serious tone and her heart plummeted to the ground. Her thoughts immediately to Peter and whatever had happened to him. “Yes?”

  Samuel walked back toward her and sat by her side, then took her in his arms for the warmest hug. “Thank you.” He squeezed his arms around her back, then released her. “You saved Martina’s life with your fast thinking and I haven’t even thanked you.”

  Ophelia, who had been on the verge of hyperventilating a moment ago, closed her eyes for a moment, then let out a breath, pressed a hand over her heart, and finally laughed. “My pleasure.”

  Samuel gave her one last hug, then walked to the door. “One last thing. Peter is a great guy. I’m happy for you.”

  “Me too.” She waved at him and watched as her friend, once passed the archway, ran away, shouting his farewell.

  Ophelia wasn’t left alone for long and that was a good thing, because the few minutes it was just her in that room, she called the nurse station twice to know how Peter fared. The third time, nobody answered and she walked to them. Ravenna and Malina intercepted her at the front desk as she was harassing a nurse. They promptly steered her back to the heliotherapy chamber’s foyer, where they set up an impromptu picnic with all the food they brought.

  Before sitting on one of the couches, Malina dangled a black bag with a designer logo before Ophelia. “We stopped by your place.”

  “Thank the Great Wolf you thought of it.” Ophelia grabbed the bag and ran to the restroom to change—where she also had a fast shower. Then she came back and went straight to the tramezzini tray, her stomach growling and her mouth wet in anticipation at the sight of the sandwiches.

  Malina opened a thermos from which the aroma of fresh-brewed espresso wafted over and filled the whole waiting room. “I think you and I need the extra boost to stay awake.” She studied her for a moment, then added, “Well, I need the boost anyway. You look ready to walk on walls.”

  “Give me that coffee, sister, or you’ll see how right you are on that evaluation.”

  “One espresso for the shrinking violet coming up.” She fixed two small paper cups, then reached inside one of the bags she had carried over, and produced a second thermos. “And here is the chamomile tea for mother hen here.” She filled a regular-sized paper cup with the brew and handed it to Ravenna, who thanked her.

  “So?” Ravenna said, shielded by her chamomile tea raised to her lips.

  “Yes, so?” Malina tilted her head as she smirked and withheld the espresso cup from Ophelia.

  “Really?” Ophelia grabbed the cup and shook her head. She gulped down the coffee, sighed, then reached for another tramezzino. “Okay, what do you want to know?”

  “Everything.” Malina laughed.

  “With plenty of details.” Ravenna placed her tea on the coffee table they had moved before the largest couch. “Are you in love?”

  “Very much so.” Ophelia felt her cheeks warm up and covered her face with both hands.

  Two sets of shocked eyes stared back at Ophelia when she peeked from between her fingers.

  “You blushed.” Malina’s stupor was comical and made Ophelia laugh.

  “So what?” Ophelia raised an eyebrow and gave her friend an intimidating look.

  “I’m so happy for you.” Laughing, Malina threw her arms around Ophelia. Ravenna immediately followed.

  They kept hugging until Malina added, “Ophelia Neferet, the man-eater, terror of both paranormal and human world, has been tamed.”

  Ophelia felt traitorous tears forming in her eyes, but knowing she would never hear the end of it if she started sobbing, she groaned. “Who says I was tamed? Maybe I did all the taming. Have you thought of that?”

  “How is he?” Ravenna had one hand over her round belly and absentmindedly caressed it in slow strokes.

  “He’s sweet.” Ophelia braced for the comments that weren’t long from coming.

  In fact, Malina snorted her espresso all over the plate she was holding on her lap. “Peter, the demon, sweet?”

  Ophelia felt her hair stand up and her temper flared along. “First of all, no one can call him demon—”

  “He’s no fairy, is he?” Ravenna chuckled as she reached for a croissant from one of the open trays on the coffee table.

  Ophelia stopped in the middle of biting one of the round focaccias with green olives, and waved it in the air scattering a few olives around. “When did you become funny?”

  “It’s the Greek, he ruins everything he touches.” Malina tilted her chin toward Ravenna’s belly. “And he touches her a lot, it seems.”

  “Hey, don’t insult the father of my triplets.” Ravenna swatted Malina with an empty plate, then made a face and hurried to press a hand over her belly. “Goddess above, but those kids never rest.”

  Malina gave Ravenna a sympathetic smile, then turned to Ophelia. “Are the rumors right?”

  “Which ones?” Ophelia knew which rumors her friend was asking about, but she was reluctant to travel down that road. “Those focaccias are yummy.”

  “Ophelia—?” Malina squinted at her, as if trying to read her mind, then her eyes widened and her mouth hung open for a second. “No!” She smashed her forehead with her ringed hand and swore. “I can’t believe it. You haven’t—?”

  Ophelia let out a suffered sigh and pinched the arch of her nose. “Nope.”

  Malina’s eyes became wider. “I mean, you, Ophelia Neferet, the man-eater—”

  Ophelia made a circular sign with her free hand. “Let’s keep going.”

  “And you and he, the dem—I mean that sweet guy formerly known as the sex machine that mowed down
Rome and surrounding areas—have done nothing? Are you kidding?”

  “Nope.”

  Ravenna scooted toward the edge of the couch and lowered her voice. “I heard he has to wear gloves all the time because he has some kind of power of touch or something to that effect. Is that true?” Her eyes lit up with a mischievous light.

  Ophelia scoffed and opened her hands to the side. “Who are you and what have you done with Ravenna Del Sarto?”

  Malina straightened in her seat. “Do not evade the question, missy. Is it true or not that he makes you forget your own name with a simple caress?”

  Ophelia kicked off her shoes and brought her legs up to the couch. “Again, not that anything happened, but from the little I know, the rumor is definitely correct.”

  “But how could you keep your hands off of each other?” Malina leaned toward the coffee table to refill her plates from one of the savory trays.

  “I don’t know if I should feel offended by your question, but I’ll let it slide because you brought me the pistachio pastries I like.” Ophelia drank another cup of espresso and chased it with one of the pastries she had just mentioned. “Anyway, we kissed.”

  “That’s it?” Ravenna asked.

  “That’s it.” Ophelia thought of those kisses and her heart swelled. “He was under the weather both times it happened and that’s why it could happen in the first place.”

  “What do you mean?” Malina walked to the one window opening on one of the small island’s piers.

  Ophelia was glad the girls had come to keep her company. Alone, she would have either gone mad or driven the hospital staff crazy. Neither would have hurried Peter’s healing. But she was even gladder when Quintilius entered the foyer with more food and caffeinated drinks. His presence curbed Malina’s and Ravenna’s curiosity about all-things Peter and saved her from a night filled with more blushing than she had done in a lifetime.

  “How are you holding up?” Quintilius asked her as soon as that room experienced the first moment of quiet of the night.

  Alexander had arrived an hour after Quintilius and, on Ophelia’s insistence, took the exhausted-looking Malina and Ravenna home.