Of Heaven and Hell

by Anthology

  Devin settled back in the seat, keeping his gaze averted as his eyes shifted to the black of a beetle’s shell, drawn out by the triumph spilling through him on a tidal swell of lust and malicious joy. “That I do.”

  Devin smiled at James through bloody teeth, James reaching over to pat him roughly on the hand, blood mingling.

  That was the moment that made them inseparable. That was the moment that bonded them in blood.

  Now it was just a matter of time and patience.

  Devin made sure to go back and thank those two men for setting his plan into motion later that night.

  Their deaths were mercifully quick.

  Chapter Three

  WITH EVERY week that passed, Devin’s skin felt as if it was growing ever tighter, constricting him within choking restraints of rotting, ropy flesh and muscle. It crawled along the brittle bones that kept it mobile, able to move and bend at his will. Devin had to fight the urge to claw at his own skin, dig deep furrows in this weak shell that kept him earth-bound—to let his true self out, expansive enough to fill the sky should he wish it.

  How the humans could stand feeling so imprisoned was another puzzle, such willing captives of this corporeal flesh.

  They were so small...insignificant. Confined within these cages of meat that would one day fail them—finite as the stars they thought would last forever. Their deaths were inevitable, so did it matter so much if it took another fifty years or happened within the next minute when the whim to snap a neck became too strong for Devin to resist?

  They seemed to think so. But it was beginning to drive Devin a little mad; he was not sure how much longer he could maintain his sanity with no outlet for the ache that throbbed beneath his skin, every beat of that noisy mass of muscle in his chest making the need grow within him.

  “ARE YOU okay?” James asked, arching his eyebrow in Devin’s direction.

  Devin clumsily yanked his hand from his arm, tugging his sleeve down to cover the red furrows his nails had scored into his skin. “I’m fine. I think maybe I’m allergic to that cheap motel soap.”

  James laughed, taking another long drink, and Devin’s gaze drifted back across the bar to the tall man in the corner with that hank of black hair that kept falling into his eyes.

  Devin leaned forward, tongue darting out to press against his teeth, a slow, predatory smile spreading over his face as the uncomfortable buzz lessened inside him.

  A playful punch from James awakened Devin from his stupor. “What are you looking at?”

  Devin refocused his attention on James’ curious face and molded his features into a calming façade of innocent debauchery. “Nothing,” he replied, taking a sip of his beer to quell his excitement.

  James glanced over his shoulder, one arm draped on the back of his chair as he scanned the crowd behind him. “Hey!” His laugh spilled drunkenly out of his mouth. “That guy kind of looks like me!”

  “You only wish you were that good looking,” Devin snorted. “Keep dreaming.”

  “I am hot,” James informed him, nodding as solemnly as he could after what seemed to be just one beer too many.

  Devin’s attention drifted from James’ goofy grin back to the man holding court across the room, his bright smile blinding even at this distance, blue eyes lit up with laughter as dimples carved perfect arcs across his cheeks.

  James stumbled to his feet, slapping Devin on the shoulder. “I’m going to the restroom, and then we’re going back to the motel. I think I’m about to pass out.”

  Devin nodded absently, still focused on that beguiling figure only a few feet away—the one that might just still the nervous jitters that were eating away underneath his skin.

  JAMES DIALED as soon as the bathroom door locked behind him. “Father William?”

  The yawn came loud and clear over the line, making it sound as if the old man was standing right next to him. “James? How are things going?”

  “I’m losing him, and we’re not even close.”

  The sigh of disgust came even more clearly. “Then keep him interested. You lose him now and we have to find him again. It has taken too long already.”

  “But he wants....”

  “I fucking know what he wants, boy. I’ve cleaned up after him enough in my own time.”

  James’ silence must have alerted the old priest that all was not well. “God-dammit, James. You are the first one of us he has ever responded to. We had to rely on long cold trails and dead bodies to try to find him before, and all you had to do was flash that pretty face. It’s not like your daddy and I didn’t do our damnedest, not like our fathers and uncles didn’t do their part, and not even a peep. And now you are backing out on the job?”

  “I can’t sleep with him!”

  The silence at the end of the phone made James cringe, already knowing what was coming.

  “Don’t pretend with me, boy. You may have made the mistake of impregnating a fool, but we all know the truth here.”

  “Joanne—”

  “She has never realized family comes first.”

  “She is my family,” James said, steel returning to his tone.

  “She’s not blood.”

  “I’m not doing it. I will find another way.”

  “Fine, it’s your hunt.” Father William’s voice gentled, a friendly gruffness rumbling over the phone. “Joanne brought Charlie over this weekend.”

  A smile grew on James’ face as he leaned against the stall door, secure in the comfort of family, even if it was hundreds of miles away. “How is the rugrat doing? I miss him.”

  “He is an adorable little boy. Did I ever tell you he looks even more like my granddaddy than you do? You should see the pictures of them at that age....”

  The bathroom took on a sudden chill and James’ hand shook, tightening on the phone. “Leave him out of this.”

  “You screw up, and it will be his turn. He’s a good shot, but we will have to wait until he is old enough to be bait in his own trap. What is that? Thirteen... maybe fourteen? Not like Uncle Devin’s going to care, right?” He paused for the span of a heartbeat before adding, “Not as long as Charlie’s got that bright Goodman smile.”

  As the silence lengthened, James took several deep breaths, his nails digging deep gouges into his palms.

  Father William’s voice came snaking over the line, soft and sibilant as a serpent’s. “See that you do what needs to be done.”

  “Yeah.” James straightened his shoulders. “It’s the Goodman code.”

  “Good boy.”

  “Woof,” James mumbled bitterly, making Father William’s warm laugh spill through the phone.

  “Always the smartass. I will tell Charlie you love him.”

  The buzzing of the line cut off James’ retort, not that he had anything more to say.

  DEVIN HAD awakened every night for the past two weeks, alone in the dark, even with James sleeping only a few feet away in the twin bed, trusting that he would still be breathing by the time morning came.

  It was taking far longer than Devin thought it would to seduce this one into submission. He could see the interest spark bright in his eyes before James would turn his head, only to refocus on Devin with the arousal tamped to mere tricks of the light. Devin often spent most of the night idly debating ways in which to kill James as he slept—anything to relieve the restlessness that was starting to build up inside him.

  He was growing bored. Maybe it was time to move on, find some new entertainment until he could not stand the confinement of a human form any longer.

  Devin got to his feet and stood beside James’ bed, staring down at the fragile human splayed before him as James’ breath blew hotly against his thighs.

  What should it be? A quick crush of the windpipe? Or maybe he should bleed James slowly, watching the sheets turn varying shades of red as the blood dried beneath him....

  So many options to choose from, just to get it done.

  But no, he had waited this long. Maybe he could
relieve some of this tension with that captivating thing he had seen at the bar—take out his frustration on him so he could refocus on his objective.

  It could still be worth it.

  JAMES CREPT up behind Devin as he stood at the window, watching through the dirty pane as the man from the bar wove his way drunkenly toward his room.

  Devin’s hands were pressed flat against the glass, the heat of his palms steaming the pane in abstract impressions. They left ghostly images of clawed fingers imprinted for mere seconds as he shifted closer to the window, his swollen cock tenting the front of his boxers.

  James’ breath felt hot and damp against Devin’s neck as he leaned his head over Devin’s shoulder, trying to see what had caught his attention. “Something interesting out there?”

  “Maybe,” Devin admitted without thought, eyes automatically tracking his prey as he fumbled with his keys across the motor court.

  James fell silent behind him, and Devin was not sure if he was even looking outside—did not care, really. So close, so close... the man was just a few yards away and it would be so easy to slip into his room, cut out his tongue so he could not scream, and then Devin would have the whole night to play.

  The heavy weight of James’ palm sliding over his belly startled Devin from his fantasy, and he blinked in slow surprise, cocking his head and staring curiously at the hand toying with the waistband of his boxers. It took Devin only a few seconds for his brain to catch up—enraptured as he had been with the thought of the fun he could have with that pretty stranger from the bar—and he turned, letting an expression of hopeful desire decorate his face as James stepped in closer, their bodies nearly brushing chest to chest and hip to hip.

  “I can think of a few interesting things we could be doing in here.” James’ husky voice trembled just a little. “Come away from the window and come back to bed.”

  Devin nodded, letting James lead him back to his bed, letting James do whatever he wanted, for now.

  He suspected this was not a first for his pet, with the aggressive touches and the assured way he took command in the bed, though he seemed unable to look Devin in the eyes. James would twist his head just so, avoiding Devin’s sharp kisses, perhaps suspecting that the temptation to bite hard enough to draw blood and taste flesh rode nearly untethered within him. It was an enticing mix of Madonna and whore that had Devin harder than he remembered being before.

  Such a puzzle, this one. Maybe he would have time enough to train that timidity right out of James—time enough if he kept his patience, held his impetuousness in hand.

  Or perhaps he would leave it be, a shining light on the path of depravity he would lead this one down.

  It was the end of the beginning and the beginning of the end. How could he have forgotten that jealousy was such a weakness for these creatures?

  Devin was so grateful for the assistance that he even let the beautiful man from the bar live one more day.

  “IT IS almost time for the reading.” Maureen eagerly rose to her knees as she smoothed her dress over her thighs.

  “Is it chocolate cake this time?” The boy’s stomach rumbled as he reached into the chip bowl for more snacks. “I didn’t like last year’s.” He wrinkled his nose, sticking out his tongue in an obvious display of disgust.

  Brad frowned down at them both, all the maturity of his sixteen years aimed directly at them. The boy gazed at him warily, noting that his cousin seemed somehow smaller without the tags hanging from their usual place around his neck. Brad caught the boy staring at the vacant space on his chest and his frown deepened, the long scars along Brad’s cheek still a livid pink. “This is a stupid waste of time.”

  “It is tradition,” Maureen insisted, scooting closer to her cousin. “Like Christmas or Easter.”

  “To brainwash you dimwits into believing it is still possible to save that demon thing.”

  A large hand reached in and pinched his ear, making Brad squeeze his eyes shut as he tried to twist away. “You are not too big for me to spank, boy. You know the proper way to address him. Show some respect on his birthday.”

  “Sorry, Father William,” Brad said snidely, rubbing at his swollen ear. “I meant ‘to brainwash you dimwits into believing it is still possible to save Uncle Devin’.”

  “Good boy,” the man said, patting him on the shoulder. “It is time to gather for the reading.”

  The boy bounced to his feet, Maureen right behind him. “Can we pick the story this year?” he demanded with childish impatience, Maureen’s wriggling weight pressed against his back.

  Father William ruffled the boy’s hair. “Anything you want. Here, I have got a present for you on this special day.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the dog tags on a sleek new cord, the silver glinting dimly in the sunlight spilling through the curtains.

  The boy’s eyes skirted to Brad who was staring out the window, pointedly ignoring him. “But that’s....”

  “It is yours now, James. Uncle Devin would want you to have it.” Father William placed the cord around James’ neck, smiling brightly as the torch was passed.

  James stared down at the tags, the weight of them far heavier than their size indicated. When he looked back up, Brad was gone.

  “Now what story was it you wanted to hear this year?” Father William asked kindly.

  Maureen shoved her way forward, voice high and impossible to ignore. “We want the one about how Uncle Devin won the basketball game against the Timberwolves and then gave the trophy to Great-Granddaddy!”

  “That is a favorite of mine, as well. Maybe we will have time to read more than one.”

  Chapter Four

  THE WORLD was such a rank mixture of scents, so unlike the purity of hellfire and brimstone that seared away all of that useless humanity. With every cleansing breath all the contamination from the world Above flaked away in a soft rain of ashes, leaving him bare and vulnerable until he learned to fight back.

  The acrid smell of a newly lit match often reminded him of Below, except that it lacked that sharp bite that dug into the brainstem with torturous quickness.

  It was not that he didn’t appreciate these new scents. The thick, drowsy aroma of cooling coffee or the light, brittle smell of old linens was just as fascinating as the sweet tang of decay eating away at months’ dead flesh. There were just so very many.

  Every aroma was available to be savored, especially that heavy, musky odor that James emitted every time he came near. It was becoming one of Devin’s favorite scents. He would often roll over in bed and bury his nose in James’ abandoned pillow, breathing in the stale odor, allowing the scent to pool in his blood and creep slowly through his bloodstream, every cell and fiber of this vessel singing with it until it settled in his cock.

  James would emerge from the shower to find Devin rutting casually against the bed linens, the slow roll of Devin’s hip unerringly drawing his interest. Devin would crack open an eye to watch as James’ gaze lost focus in a haze of arousal, the towel loosening its hold as it lost the fight against the swelling of James’ cock. Devin would gesture James forward, a slight tug from his hand dropping the offensive towel to the floor before James joined him once more on the bed, and Devin allowed himself to drink from the source, that alluring odor keeping him harder than anything in his recent memory as he pounded into James’ willing body.

  As good as James smelled now, Devin knew James’ fear would smell even better.

  “HAVING FUN?” Devin murmured into James’ ear, enjoying the tremor that whispered through his companion.

  “Yeah.” A hesitant smile spread over James’ face, though he couldn’t manage to look Devin in the eye.

  He was lying. Devin could tell by the way James’ pulse thrummed against his fingers, James’ wrist pinned in his tight grip. He had been trying so hard to expand his pet’s horizons, forcing him out to the edge where Devin liked to play.

  But James was not blooming as he had hoped, still so hesitant and unsure when anywhere
but the bedroom. It was not as fun to break them unless they showed some spirit.

  They pushed their way through the writhing bodies, lost to the beat of the music as others pressed heatedly into the dark corners of the room. It reminded Devin a little of Hell—the dead eyes, the sharp cries of pain and pleasure coming from the hidden recesses lining the walls.

  The utter abandonment into oblivion, as if nothing they did mattered anymore.

  Devin noticed James’ eyes skirting to one of the vendor’s booths, tucked to the side, that sold all manner of impulse purchases so necessary for this situation—prophylactics, toys, accessories, drinks, pharmaceuticals—his gaze inevitably drawn back to the same location.

  “Do you want some of that?” Devin asked, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. This was a promising development. He could see the potential. Maybe there was hope for James after all.

  James’ eyes widened a bit fearfully. “Oh, no.... No, I don’t need it.”

  “But do you want it?”

  James’ face flushed and he lowered his lids guiltily, his lashes casting crescents of shadow across his cheeks.

  “Best stuff there is,” the vendor said with a snake oil smile as they approached his booth. “It stings like a bitch at first, but the marks never fade.” He dipped his gloved finger in the container and dragged it across his assistant’s bared back, the man tied down like an offering on the table to be exhibited and exposed for their viewing pleasure. The man hissed with obvious excitement even as he twitched away from the proprietor’s hand, a red burn following the line of his finger as the liquid cleanly ate away the surface layers of skin.

  “It is an acidic construct that burns only what’s carbon-based, but is still safe for all fabrics, plastics and even hard woods. The gloves are secure so the only marks you get are the ones you want. It is better than ink—more personal, longer lasting....” The vendor offered them another ingratiating grin. “And very popular with couples.”