It was a damn shame, because I really wanted to break them in one glorious punch to the face.
“Leviathan,” I growled.
“No, not Leviathan,” he said. “You can just call me Levi.”
“Levi? You…you’re not a Demon?”
“My spirit was set free the moment Monica killed Leviathan. You have no idea how good it feels to not be sitting backseat while a Demon makes all of my decisions for me.”
“Yeah…” I mumbled faintly. “So…where are we? Is this…?”
“Just follow me,” said Levi, still smiling. “I’ll take you to someone who will explain everything.”
Levi turned and started across the water before I could object. I reluctantly followed. The water rippled gently beneath our footsteps. Wherever he was taking me, it didn’t appear to be anywhere close. The water stretched on seemingly forever.
At least until a mahogany desk mysteriously appeared in our path. Only a second or two later, a figure was seated behind it. As we approached him, I noticed he was wearing a white suit and tie. He was broad shouldered, square-jawed, and with hair buzzed into a crew cut. I knew him from somewhere.
Amon’s party at Hexham Manor? Wasn’t he one of the jocks?
“Dante!” he said. He stood up from behind his desk. “Our man of the hour.” He nodded appreciatively to my guide. “Thank you, Levi.”
Levi nodded back. In that very moment, he vanished. Apparently appearing and disappearing was a thing here.
“What is this place?” I said. “And why’s it so…” I glanced down at the rippling surface beneath my feet, “…wet?”
I already had my hunch. In fact, it was obvious. Without even giving him a chance to respond, I blurted out my suspicion.
“This isn’t Heaven, is it?”
The figure in white smiled. “Heaven is such a contrived term. Let’s just say that this is a good place. And believe it or not, your mind is actually helping to shape it. I guess all that swimming might’ve gotten to your head, eh?”
He knew about that? This was way too weird.
“Who are you?”
Walking around his desk, he extended his hand and embraced me in a friendly handshake. “My name is Eli.”
“You were one of Monica’s classmates,” I said, almost accusingly. “What are you?”
Eli beamed at my reaction, clearly unaffected. “I’m a Seraphim. Although that’s a somewhat ambiguous title. It might be more helpful to think of me as…a guardian angel of sorts.”
“Guardian angel?” I said. It felt like I was reciting the punchline to a bad joke. “You just sat there in that quarantined school while everyone died!”
“Well that’s not entirely true. I had a fling with Zoey.”
“What?” Was this bastard mocking me? I was seconds from smashing his smug head through the desk. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything! For starters, it put me in Zoey’s circle of trust. Of course, I had to pretend to be in love with Monica too. That was essential. Who better to trust trying to save your best friend? I was able to help her hide Monica while she was in her coma after killing Sloth. Together, we were able to mask her presence from five other Demons in that very same building. No human could have done that alone, I can promise you that. Not even a witch like Zoey. But with just the right amount of divine intervention—”
“But she’s dead now,” I said. Every breath I took was fire in my throat. “You saved her just so she could die? Is that what you’re telling me?”
My fury was suddenly drowned in despair. She was dead. I had done everything to try and save her. And despite all of my efforts, she was gone. I couldn’t bring her back.
“You couldn’t have done anything to save her?” I said.
“Of course I could have saved her,” said Eli. “But that wouldn’t have given you the opportunity to try and save her yourself, now would it?”
“What does that matter? I couldn’t save her. I tried, and I couldn’t. You bastard! You’re the goddamn guardian angel here, aren’t you?”
Eli shook his head, amused. He leaned back, resting on the edge of his desk. “You really don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what?”
“I’m not her guardian angel,” said Eli. “I’m yours.”
Well shit. Now I’d heard everything.
“Huh?” I said. Because, like, what the hell else was I supposed to say?
“Yep.”
“W-w-w-what?”
“I know, right?”
“But…you saved her that one time! You said it yourself!”
“Being a guardian angel for someone also means protecting the people they love when they are unable to. In a sense, it is the greatest protection we can provide.”
“But…that’s ridiculous! I’m a Demon!”
“No, Dante, you were a Demon. But sixteen years ago, all the Demon was ripped out of you. Demons don’t risk their lives to save the people they love. Honestly, we don’t know what you are. But whatever you are, you’re good.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Not a Demon? And this asshole was my guardian angel?
“What’s all this about anyway?” I said. “You didn’t bring me here just to blow your stupid guardian angel cover, did you?”
Eli chuckled. “That’s what I like about you, Dante. Always cutting straight to the chase.” Walking back around the desk, he seated himself. He then slid a drawer open, removed a folder, and laid it on the desk. “I have an offer for you.”
He slid the folder across the desk.
“An offer?”
“Like a job.”
“A job offer?” I eyed the folder skeptically. “For what?”
“We would like to employ you as a Seraphim,” said Eli.
“Not interested.”
“I think you would change your mind if you were to look into this particular position,” said Eli. He interlocked his fingers and nodded at the folder. “In fact, I can guarantee it.”
Eli and I held each other’s gazes for a long time. His calm expression was unflinching. Finally, I relented and opened the folder. The paperwork was instantly invisible to me. I instead found myself glued to the large photograph of Monica paper-clipped to the inside cover.
“We can bring her back,” said Eli. “In fact, we want to. She doesn’t belong in Hell. Her presence has caused quite the disturbance in the Ninth Circle. Ever since you reached Monica there, it’s caused…something of a chemical reaction, I guess you could say. Lucifer has all but lost control of the souls there. For the first time ever, he actually begged us to remove souls from Hell—namely, you two.”
“You mean…Monica’s alive?” I said.
This was that moment—when the next breath fills your lungs with life, when your eyes sponge every immaculate detail and yet they don’t see anything, when the whole world stops and stares at this small infinite miracle in the cosmos.
I felt dizzy.
“We don’t usually do this,” said Eli. “But in this particular case, we feel that it might be beneficial. We can reverse everything…except for those seven Remnants inside Monica. Those are there to stay. Even Hell couldn’t purge those out of her. However, with you as her guardian, that might be just the medicine she needs. They are, after all, fragments of you inside her.”
I couldn’t believe it. He said it, my brain processed it, there it was, right in front of me, and I couldn’t believe it.
“Yes,” I said. I blinked and breathed, and I think there was a tear running down my cheek, and Goddammit, I didn’t even care. “God, yes. YES! I’ll do it! When do I start?”
“Immediately,” said Eli, grinning. “Monica is lucky to have you. And, being a friend of Monica’s, I have to say that you’re quite the lucky man too.”
“Yeah…
tell me about it,” I said. I was staring at my shaking hands.
“She’s a great kisser.”
“Wait…what?”
My head snapped up, and Eli was suddenly standing right in front of me. He tapped his finger against my forehead, and everything flashed white.
37
To Hell and Back
It was the weirdest fucking thing.
He stood outside the restaurant window. Shadowy hair swept with untidy perfection from his scalp. He looked only slightly older than me—Seventeen? Eighteen tops?—but wore a crisp black suit with a loose matching tie hanging from his unbuttoned collar. A tight-lipped smile sliced across his face. And then there were these eyes, I shit you not, this intense shade of blue like the entire goddamn Arctic Ocean captured in two penetrating orbs.
He was staring directly at me.
And then the memories came. They poured. Flooded. Consumed me.
My fork went limp in my hand. “Dante?”
“Monica, are you okay? Who’s Dante?”
I glanced across the booth. Casey was sitting across from me, visibly concerned. We each had half-eaten bowls of pasta in front of us. I leaned back, absorbing my impossible surroundings. We were in Leonardo’s Italian Restaurant. This was more than just déjà vu.
Had I just gone back in time?
Everything. It was still so vivid. Demons, zombies, witches. Even the Gateway to Hell. Even…
I dropped my fork.
I had died.
I raised my hand to my chest where I had stabbed myself. I felt my heart beating. I wasn’t dead. This was real. Shit. It had to be real!
“Monica?” said Casey. He raised an auburn eyebrow. “Seriously, you’re starting to scare me.”
Memories of Dante hit me last and strongest of all. I could still taste the frosty breath of his last kiss.
I glanced back at the far window of Leonardo’s. Dante hadn’t disappeared. He was still standing there. Still smiling.
Even in my vast archive of impossible memories, I had never seen him smile like this.
Casey followed my gaze skeptically to the window. “You know that guy?”
His confusion was real, drawing lines in his forehead. He didn’t remember Dante at all.
“I gotta go.”
I bolted from the booth, leaving Casey open-mouthed. I rushed past several startled diners and burst through the door. A mild wind passed through me, stealing my frantic breath.
Dante was still there—clearly enjoying my incomprehensibility.
“Dante!” I said. “What…? How…?”
The ability to form words into coherent sentences was hopeless.
“I have something I need to tell you,” he said. He stepped up to me and placed a gentle hand on my face. Then he kissed me. His scent filled me. The billions of questions racing through my mind suddenly fell into a world of weightlessness—carried in a soft wind like snowflakes. His lips pulled away. I felt his breath as he leaned close to my ear.
“I love you too,” he said.
He pulled away. His beautiful blue eyes met mine, containing the very essence of sincerity in their spheres. Happiness was a tangible thing in his eyes, in his smile, in the way that he absorbed each breath and cherished it.
“Dante…how am I still alive?” I said. “How are we here?”
Dante returned to his usual smirk and shrugged casually. “Well, not to sound cliché or anything…but I guess you could say I went to Hell and back for you.”
About the Author: Preston Norton is a connoisseur of all things scary. However, the only thing that truly terrifies him is the idea of getting a “real” job. Preston lives in a part of Texas where chainsaw massacres are less common.
Blüd and Magick
Born from the ashes of the most fierce and powerful entity in all of Trivaesia, Darla was sent to grow up in the outside world with no knowledge of where she came from. When she finds herself wielding new power, she must decide which part of her will rule her heart---the evil from which she was born or the good by which she was raised.
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Demonica Page 26