by Anthology
“We’ll take it,” Devin said with a sideways glance at James, noting the faint flush to his cheeks and the slight swell beneath the fabric of his trousers. Devin stepped back into James’ chest as the proprietor rang up their purchase and palmed James’ cock with a slight twist of his wrist, forcing a pleased groan from the other man.
This was going far better than Devin had hoped.
THE SMELL of blood was one of Devin’s favorites. They had found that amusing, but he could never remember much except their broken glass laughter every time he thought about it, the brittle, crystal shards scraping the inside of his skull.
He took a sniff, the air currently empty of any scent but James, who lay naked across the wrinkled bed sheets, back bared to the dim light of the room as Devin studied his blank canvas. All of this was his to mark at his will.
It was tempting to go beyond what they had agreed to—to mar all that soft flesh in ways that would make James scream, but it was not time for that.
That was for later.
Instead, Devin dipped his gloved finger in the watery paste, dragging it slowly across the hollow of James’ lower back, a feral grin sliding over his face as he felt James’ legs writhe beneath him as the paste ate away at James’ skin. James keened a muffled cry of pain into the pillow, fisting the sheets as he tried to keep still.
Devin made it quick, even this minimal bit of torture making him hard and ready for what he knew would come next, once James had finished with him. The mark was simple, the symbol of his name from Below carved in straight lines and graceful arcs until the span of James’ lower back was a weeping red mass of skin.
When Devin was done, James glanced over his shoulder at him, cheeks flushed and eyes damp, such a picture of temptation and decadence.
It would have to be soon. His borrowed blood demanded Devin take his due.
“ARE YOU ready?” James asked softly, leaning forward until Devin felt his hot breath on his ear.
“Just do it.” Devin was anxious to get to the fucking, where he could take out some of his aggression that had been aroused by this bit of foreplay.
Devin waited impatiently, but rather than the sting of the paste on his skin he heard, “It is starting to dry out a little. I need to add some water to it.”
James leaned over to the night table, and Devin watched him grab a nearby glass and add a few drops to the jar in his hand. James stirred it with his gloved finger before Devin felt him settle back on his thighs, his voice already lighter. “There, that’s better.”
It took only a few seconds, James’ pattern apparently a simple one, but Devin felt the burn down to his bones and hissed a guttural growl. How a mere human had withstood this was something of a surprise.
Devin did not care what marks were left behind on this body, but he was a bit irritated that it actually hurt.
“Now you are mine,” James said with something like satisfaction, and Devin heard him screwing the lid back on the small purple jar before setting it on the nightstand. Then James fell silent, and Devin swore he could feel the burn of James’ gaze intensifying the scald of the paste eating away at his skin. Then he felt James rock his hips slightly, the hardness of James’ cock pressing into the crease of Devin’s ass.
The burn continued to carve its way deeper into Devin’s borrowed flesh, making him squirm with pain and arousal. He bucked his hips and rolled over, neatly pinning James to the bed with his greater strength.
“My property, claimed in flesh and blood,” Devin intoned, his face set in an unusually serious expression, leaning in to mark James with his teeth in the curve of James’ throat. James responded with an eagerness that surprised Devin, finding that marked spot in the middle of Devin’s back and pressing his fingertips in with a fevered ferocity that incited a deeper bite as Devin growled around the flesh between his teeth.
The triumph bubbling through him made his pupils spill like ink across his corneas, and Devin had to squeeze his eyes shut before he ruined the surprise.
He did not want James scared...yet.
IT HAD been so easy. James always slept with a glass of water by the bed, so when Devin went to the bathroom James dumped the holy water in the glass and left it sitting innocently in its usual place.
He had to be sure the mark stayed—so much depended on it.
The pattern was simple, a delicate series of loops and lines, rendered on a single page buried in the middle of his great-grandfather’s manual—the true name of God in angelic script. James selected the location for it weeks in advance, all that time spent caressing the bare expanse of Devin’s skin not wasted, weighing the advantages and disadvantages of each particular site even as Devin thrust inside him; it was a spot where Devin could not easily reach to destroy it, mar its protective surface to break his way free of his prison of flesh.
James needed to keep Devin moored so he could not escape like he had so many times before. So much depended on keeping him earth-bound, keeping him human enough to do what had to be done.
DEVIN DID not remember what dreams were. His kind didn’t waste hours lost in a vulnerable haze of unconsciousness. They were painfully aware of every second of their existence, not daring to give even a sign of potential weakness; such escape was not advisable, even for the strongest among them.
Now, locked in this cage of flesh, he was expected to lie still and just... wait—for what, he was not sure. It stunned him to think these ephemeral humans would be willing to throw even the minutest amount of their time on this earth away on such conventions, all those dead hours sliced away by the ticking of the clock.
But that night, when Devin gave in to the inevitable, as he had to with this fragile mortal form, something new moved behind his tightly closed lids. At first he assumed it was this body’s inhabitant trying to reach him once more, regaining strength after his long hiatus cowering in the corner of his mind. It was an annoyance that was usually easy to ignore, but the pictures kept coming. Even when he hunted down that shivering fragment of a soul and coiled around it, smothering it in his smoky grasp, still the images came.
Nonsensical things—vague flashes of faces, a man’s laughter, a heart so full it felt it might burst, the sharp sting of blood tickling his nostrils. Mostly, he saw those same blue eyes, the dark pupils expanding until twin reflections of a mostly-forgotten memory screamed uselessly heavenward, locked in their deadened gaze.
THEIR CONSTANT traveling kept things fresh. Everything in Hell had remained steadfastly similar despite the inherent elasticity of every moment; no matter where he went or how long he stayed, the tedium outweighed it all—the same faces, the same situations. But out in the human world, with creatures that could not remember more than the last few decades at the most, every day held some new surprise, a new interaction with someone he had not met before.
And even more pleasant interactions with the one who remained constantly at his side.
True, they all spoke drivel, their lack of understanding almost amusing if it didn’t, more often than not, anger Devin beyond reason. Sometimes the urge to crack their heads open to see if they used that gelatinous mass encased in their skulls was almost too tempting to resist.
These pathetic things still believed in Him, that absent Father he had heard tale of Below. That they wasted their time on such nonsense perturbed Devin for some strange reason, even after so long. He knew Lucifer all too well, but from a time before His reign that other name would be dredged up, hissed in the shadows until it crawled like an oozing slug along the crags and clefts of Devin’s brain.
Those whispers were quieted quickly. None wished to dwell on what had once been, none less than Lucifer himself. It was its own kind of torture to remind the denizens of Below of the life they may have had before they joined Hell’s ranks, but to remind Him of what He had lost was sure to bring oceans of agony to those unfortunate enough to dredge up his gloried past.
The name of God was a curse for those Below.
Such blind trust was a weakness that Devin c
ould not tolerate. It was what made humans such easy prey, made them so alluring, made him want to rend and tear and bleed until they stopped believing in anything but him.
That was the lesson Devin taught them—not to place their trust so foolishly.
Devin did not trust what he could not hold in his hands.
“ARE WE there, yet?” Devin asked, lounging back against the seat with a pleasurable ache burning through his muscles. Last night had been particularly enjoyable and he reveled in the sensation that still sparked sluggishly through his body as he awoke from his nap.
James glanced at his map, studying the old roads overlaid with some of the newer highways, a slow smile spreading over his face. “If you say that one more time, I’m turning the car around and we’re going home.”
Devin laughed huskily and studied James from beneath his half-closed lids, Devin’s thick lashes shrouding their shifting color—just a little harder to control that moment upon waking, even more so with every day that passed.
They pulled to a stop in the curve of a cul-de-sac, the sound of the engine shutting off loud in the sudden silence until Devin felt he could hear James’ heartbeat thudding in his ears. “Surprise,” James said, eyes skirting sideways as he opened the door. “We’re here.”
Devin got out of the car, stretching almost obscenely now he had space to move his long limbs. Once he had worked out all his kinks—human bodies were so impractical—he paused, staring around him at the ruins.
He had not seen anything like this in the modern age. Most abandoned towns had long been razed, a testament to modern consumerism and overpopulation arising in their places. Most everyone lived in the cities, where resources and aid were more easily available.
The suburbs had all but disappeared when the roads had become too dangerous to commute on a daily basis, and the infrastructure had fallen apart too much to ensure survival for those who dared try.
The pavement was cracked and nearly useless, chucks of asphalt split with weeds and other debris. The homes that had once held pride of place were barely standing, some mere skeletal shells of the two story domiciles they had been. What he guessed had been well-landscaped lawns were nothing more than dirt and dried out weeds, nothing able— or willing, perhaps—to live out in this forgotten wasteland.
Still, Devin was a bit surprised not to feel any squatters lurking in the more sturdy buildings.
But the longer he stood there, the more he could see. This place raised the hairs on the nape of his neck, called to the demon that lay coiled inside. Devin was both attracted and repelled, something luring him farther in while at the same time wanting him to run, to find a place far away from here to lick the psychic wounds that clawed at his insides.
Something had happened here, once upon a time. Something dark and delicious still resonated like a plucked chord inside his skull.
Devin glanced over at James who stood casually by, watching him, his hands buried in his pockets. When James saw Devin looking at him, his eyes went soft and he smiled, the lines of his face morphing into tempting vulnerability.
“This is on your to-do list?” Devin asked in surprise as the power played along his skin. “It’s a dump.”
James shrugged and gestured at the nearest house, the white paint so faded the boards seemed bared to the elements. “This one belonged to my family.”
Devin studied the abandoned building, the broken windows staring back at him like empty sockets, the eyes long plucked out as it blindly gazed at the two men standing at its feet. It was perfect—no witnesses, plenty of time and space, and the oppressive air would add just the right touch of fear. “Nice place. Who did your decorating?”
James ignored the jibe and kept his gaze fixed on the house, eyes tracking the remnants of the path that had once led to the door. “Let’s take a look inside.”
“Sure,” Devin agreed as another roil of power tingled along his spine. “Sounds like fun.”
Chapter Five
“LOOK AT him, Will,” Bob said over his shoulder, holding the curtain aside as he watched the children play-sparring in the backyard. “Spitting image.”
His brother shrugged, glancing outside before refocusing on the runes he was carving into the scabbard of the sword lying on the nearby table. “His nose is too wide, chin too short. It’s the closest this generation, though, after Brad ruined his face on that last attempt. He will have to do.”
“Should we start the extra training now? Or wait a few years until he is...ten, maybe?”
“No use waiting. No point to it.” Father William blessed the sword with a wave of his fingers, the crisscross motion almost automatic as he reached for another weapon. “We waited with Brad and look how that turned out. It was a waste of time because he never learned to listen. It is easier to mold them when they are still young and malleable.”
Bob nodded, his mouth grim. “Like you were?”
The other man chuckled dryly. “Let’s hope even more so.”
“Do you think he will take to it?” Bob asked, turning to stare out of the window again, watching James as he wrestled with one of his younger cousins, pinning the boy to the ground with an elbow to his throat. “He doesn’t seem to have the edge.”
“Does it really matter?”
THEY WALKED across the cracked sidewalk, passing a rusted mailbox that stood sentry at the edge of the property. Devin paused, looking back over his shoulder, a sharp pain leeching through his skull at the sight of it. Devin shook it off and followed James toward the house, the desire to spill blood growing within him even as his discomfort increased.
“Why did your family have any interest in this place? Did something special happen here?”
James stopped in front of a ramshackle porch, leaning back to take the whole thing in as he tossed a lascivious smile in Devin’s direction. “Kind of. Let’s go in. Maybe there’s a bedroom....”
James did not wait for him, walking up the stairs and pushing open the door, disappearing into the darkness inside. Devin hesitated on the stoop, glancing back over his shoulder at the hulking shape of the listing mailbox, another spear of pain slicing behind his eyes.
This body was already falling apart. He would have to get this done.
Devin clomped up the steps, hesitating at the threshold before stepping into the dark interior of the house, the power that thrummed through this town threatening to swallow him whole.
Some of the pressure eased as he stepped through the door, as if the coiling currents of energy that roiled and twisted outside like the eddies of a lazy river could not leak past the doorjamb. Devin let out a relieved huff, the tenseness in his shoulders seeping away.
James was nowhere to be seen. Devin followed his clear footprints in the thick dust, the trail of an invisible man leading him ever deeper.
He found James upstairs, just outside the door to one of the empty rooms, gazing at a dirty mattress lining the rusty bed frame, a deep black blot staining the fabric. Devin pushed his way in, nearly shoving James into the wall as he stared at the uneven spot, a strange buzzing filling his head like a swarm of angry bees.
“Someone died here. There’s too much blood.” Color flooded Devin’s cheeks, his eyes sparkling with barely repressed excitement even as a shudder twitched down his spine. He looked back over at James, his tongue darting out to dampen his upper lip, the invitation obvious in his eyes.
James nodded from his place at the door, ignoring the silent demand. “My great-grandfather, as a matter of fact.”
“Great-grandfather?” Devin asked absently, once again entranced by the color darkening the mattress. He squatted nearby, his hand reaching out to brush over the stain. “This is too new for that.”
“Oh, it had to be replaced, sure, but he was reborn here—so you were half-right.” A stiff smile decorated James’ face. “He had a husband.... Any of this sound familiar?”
“Should it?”
“No, I guess not,” James said with a shrug. “See, they were childh
ood sweethearts, dated all through high school—true love and all that.” He gave Devin a rueful smile. “Unfortunately, my great-grandfather’s parents weren’t as open-minded as some. They were drunken assholes who treated him like shit because he happened to prefer boys to girls. But his boyfriend was a real knight in shining armor. His presence kept them from beating the shit out of their son, and as long as he was around, things were okay. But the boyfriend was a few years older so he graduated and joined the Army, hoping to earn a grant to college so he could get a good job and they could be together. He promised to come back for my great-grandfather when he turned eighteen. He was serving overseas for two years when he got word his boyfriend’s parents had finally killed themselves off in a car accident. My great-grandfather had no one else. He was just shy of his eighteenth birthday and was all on his own. So the boyfriend asked for a discharge and was lucky enough to get one. He came home, and they moved in together immediately. His dog tags were their engagement ring. He hung them around my great-grandfather’s neck and asked my great-grandfather to marry him. It was all they had ever really wanted, to be able to love each other.”
“Charming,” Devin said, fingers still caressing the stain.
“He had been proud to serve his country, but he gave it all up to be here for my great-grandfather, and he was happy to do it. Their love for each other was his whole life.”
James’ voice roughened, and Devin’s body responded to the sound. “He got a job in town, enough to take care of the two of them, pay the bills. They were doing pretty well, considering how things had gone downhill almost everywhere else in the country. My great-grandfather was taking a couple of courses at the community college when he wasn’t working to help pay the bills.
“Then his husband comes home from work one day, pulling into the driveway to see a bloody handprint smeared across the side of the mailbox. Smoke was just starting to pour out of the upstairs windows, and the front door was hanging off its hinges. The house was in a shambles, and the staircase was a bloody mess, but he didn’t care. He went running in and found my great-grandfather in their bedroom, covered in blood, brutalized in every way possible. Home invasion gone terribly wrong, but it was growing more common after the crash of ‘17. No one was safe anymore.”