Chapter Text
BETWEEN
Andromalius and Shane stood on the concrete floor of the warehouse, opposite each other. She was in a loose, ready stance, hands tense at her sides. Shane was slumped, tired, with his hands stuck in his pockets. Between them, a man was tied to a chair with a sock stuffed in his mouth, wide, terrified eyes darting between the two of them. The wide metal doors were tight shut.
"I don't want to," Shane said, idle shrug barely betraying how desperately he wished to be out of this situation. "I don't see why I should have to."
"This is the whole point of the job," Andy said, annoyed. "If you can't do this bit, you might as well resign."
"You know I can't," Shane said sullenly.
"Don't sulk," Andy said. "It's easy. He's a serial killer. He deserves it."
The warehouse was empty apart from the three of them and a few shelves against the walls. There were windows high on the walls overhead, letting the dying light of the evening in to cast long shadows between Shane and Andy.
"I just really, really don't want to." Shane sighed.
Andy crossed her arms, staring at him whilst she tapped her foot impatiently.
"Stop that. I'm your boss."
"I was Nick's right hand man for 1,732 years," She said. "I know what I'm talking about."
"I'm not doing it, Andy," He crossed his arms too, mocking her.
"I told you not to call me that." She scowled, foot stilling.
"Andromalius is such a mouthful."
"Listen, you young twerp," She snapped. "You can pretend all you want, but you're not human anymore, and you never will be again. So suck it up, and torture the fucking mortal."
Shane spat at her. With a huff, she held her hand out, and the man began to scream through his gag.
"Hey!" Shane lunged forward, between Andy and her victim, and she went skidding backwards on her ass across the concrete. She growled, eyes turning black, and she leapt at him with hands turning into sharp claws.
He held up a hand and she was halted in midair, falling to the ground and struggling against the invisible bonds that held her there. He tried to focus, but he didn't have the strength, and she broke free, lunging for his legs and tackling him, the two of them skidding across the concrete towards the doors.
Shane grunted in pain almost out of habit; something that should have hurt a lot was just an echo.
She rolled on top of him, throwing her hair back and swiping at his face. He caught her by the wrist before she could rake her sharp claws across her face, snarling with the effort of holding her at bay. She was too strong for him, however, and her hands closed around his throat. She jerked her head towards their hostage.
“Come on, boss,” She said, panting with the effort of holding Shane at bay. “Prove me wrong.” The black in her eyes was spreading, spidering across her face like cracks in glass. Her teeth had become sharp and animal.
“Fuck you,” Shane croaked, and finally succeeded in throwing her off. She rolled to a crouch, laughed, infuriatingly, and lunged at him again. He ducked the first swipe of her claws, batted aside the second, and then threw himself towards her, tackling her around the middle and bearing her to the ground.
He felt sharp hands clawing at his back as the two of them hit one of the shelves, boxes of tools falling down around them. Andy tried to pin him again, but Shane fended her off and rolled the two of them over. He slammed her head back against the concrete, clawed hands digging into her shoulders, and she finally stopped struggling.
"Don't forget who I killed to get this job," He panted, and his voice sounded harsh and inhuman. A horrible smirk spread slowly across Andromalius' face.
"Look at you," She said softly. Shane looked up at the big metal doors. He could catch the barest hint of his own reflection in them, and saw that his eyes had turned black and empty, his mouth full of sharp teeth. With a cry, he scrambled backwards, staring at his hands where they had twisted into claws.
His shadow was larger than it should be, stretching out on either side of him in a way he couldn’t make sense of.
"See?" Andy pulled herself to her feet and dusted off her jeans, standing over Shane as he crouched on the floor.
He looked up at her, rage and violence crackling in the air, something inhuman roiling inside him, and then he turned his gaze towards the hostage.
The human in the chair began to scream. He screamed and screamed, until Shane came back to his senses and stopped, his hands finally returning to normal.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He rasped, pressing his hands into the concrete floor and using the pain to ground him.
"I work exactly how I'm supposed to, Boss," she said, clearly mocking him. "And now you've had your first taste of blood, the job will be so much easier."
He stared at her for a long time, horrified, before vanishing.
BELOW
Shane's cellphone began to ring, and he pulled it from his pocket with a frown and answered it without even looking at the screen.
"Ryan? What's up?"
Ryan's voice was so loud Hazel could hear it coming from the little speakers, tinny and frantic.
"Shane! Shane, there's - there's something in the apartment!"
"What?" Shane swung round, grabbing for his jacket and his case. "What kind of thing?"
"Something - something big," Ryan said, and then she heard the sound of a door slamming, and Ryan went very quiet.
"Okay, hold on, I'm coming." Shane said. Ryan was whispering to him, inaudible to Hazel, until there was a loud tearing sound, and something growling, and the line cut out.
"Ryan? Ryan?!" Shane pulled the phone away from his ear, staring at it in shock. Then he snapped out of it, shaking his head. He snatched the landline out of its cradle and waited, tapping his foot impatiently. When nothing happened, he dialled another number.
"Eligos? Where the fuck is Andy? I don't care, get her to my apartment right the fuck now. Fuck the mortal protocol, I need her."
He slammed the phone back onto its hook and grabbed Hazel by the hand.
"We gotta go."
They materialised directly outside Ryan's building, Shane running up the stairs and stopping in his tracks when he saw the front door hanging off its hinges.
"What the fuck...?"
He slowly moved into the apartment, Hazel following close behind, staring at the clawmarks in the walls and the sofa, and the scorchmarks on the floor of the kitchen. Up the stairs, into a bedroom with more film posters on the walls and a neatly-made blue bedspread, where the doors had been torn clean off the wardrobe and the clothes inside torn and burnt.
"Ryan?" Shane said, sounding lost and plaintive. Hazel felt bile rising in her throat and suddenly fell to her knees, choking and scrabbling for breath. "Hazel?!"
In a harsh, cold voice, one that wasn't her own, Hazel said, "if you want to see him again, come to the place where I first showed you what it meant to rule Hell."
Then just like that, the sensation was gone, and her mouth was her own again, only for her to feel herself flying through the air and slamming against the wall. It made no noise, her being incorporeal, but she hit it so hard that even she felt the pain of it.
"What the fuck was that?" Shane demanded, holding her there without lifting a hand.
"I don't know," Hazel said, scrabbling at the invisible hands pressing her against the wall. "I don't know, I swear."
"If you have anything to do with this, I'm going to snuff you into oblivion so hard your ancestors will forget you were ever born."
She gasped, dropping her hands to hang limp at her sides. "It was Andromalius."
There was a crackling sound, and the smell of sulfur started to fill the air.
"Keep talking," Shane said grimly.
"She - she has some kind of plan, involving me," Hazel said. "I swear I don't know what it was, I'm just Hazel, I don't know how I ended up here."
"Why didn't you tell me about this?"
"She - she threatened me." Hazel said, voice breaking. "And I thought...I wanted you to focus on getting me home."
Shane's face contorted in anger, and she cried out. "I just want to see my dad again! Please! I didn't want anyone to get hurt!"
The hands holding her up vanished. She fell to the floor, her knees giving out under her, and she gasped and trembled as Shane started to pace.
"I can't believe this," He said, tearing at his hair. "This place is warded to the gills. It's a struggle for me to get in here sometimes."
"I think that might have been me too," Hazel said, sniffing.
He dropped his hands back to his sides, staring at her with eyes that could burn through glass.
"I didn't mean to! It just happened!" She cried, and Shane covered his eyes with his hands.
"This is clearly a trap. But Ryan..."
He stopped, staring at one of the posters on the wall. "Okay, come on. We're going."
"Where?" Hazel asked.
"Don't you worry about it."
BETWEEN
Ryan grunted, hauling himself and the two bags of groceries up the stairs. He fumbled with his keys, pushing his way into the new apartment and setting his bags down with a thunk.
It was a nice apartment. Good location. Two bedrooms. Hardwood floors.
It felt so, so empty.
He sighed, picking up the groceries again and dragging them through to the kitchen.
There was a knock at the door, and he dropped the bags with a start. Cursing, he stomped out into the hallway and threw the door open, only to fall silent when he saw Shane standing there with his hands in his pockets.
"You - you're back!"
"Hi," Shane said, raising a hand and waving at him awkwardly. He looked pale and unhappy, his suit jacket rumpled like he'd just gotten off a long flight.
"Is - is everything okay?" Ryan asked. Shane sighed, running a hand through his already unkempt hair.
"Can I come in?"
"Of course, dude," Ryan said, standing aside. Shane sat down at the kitchen island, with his head in his hands.
"Shane, what's happened?"
"You mean, apart from the whole joining the ranks of Hell thing?" He said, bitterly, and Ryan recoiled.
"I'm only trying to help."
Shane sighed again.
"I know. I'm sorry"
The two of them sat, for a long moment, whilst Shane gathered the strength for whatever he was about to say.
"I feel...I feel like I'm losing it."
"Uh huh?" Ryan said, trying to avoid stating the obvious.
"I can't do this anymore, but if I stop, then I die, permanently," Shane said with his head still in his hands, staring down at the marble of the kitchen counter. "Every day, I talk to demons, arrange for people to be - to be tortured. I can't do it."
Ryan sat beside him, unsure what to say.
"Every day I feel less human," Shane finally choked out, and tears began to roll down his cheeks.
"Oh God," Ryan muttered, and then cursed when Shane flinched away from the word. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Look, just - just come here-"
He reached over and pulled Shane into an awkward sideways hug as his shoulders began to shake.
"I don't know what to do," Ryan admitted. "But I'm here to help. If you need it. I know I'm just a petty mortal, or whatever-"
Shane pulled away from him, dashing at his eyes. "You're not just anything. You're my friend."
"I mean..." Ryan turned to face the counter again, avoiding Shane's gaze. "Was my life really worth all this?"
There was a crackling sound and the smell of sulphur filled the air, and when he glanced over, Shane was glaring at him with reddened eyes.
"Yes, it was. Don't ever say that again."
"Okay, jeez, I'm sorry," Ryan said, staring down at his hands, chagrined.
"You make it feel better," Shane said, after a long pause.
"What?"
"It's alright when I can take a break and come and speak to you," Shane said, staring straight ahead. "I feel a little better."
"Well...what if you just move in here?" Ryan said. "There's two bedrooms."
"I can't," Shane said, twisting his hands over and over in themselves. "I have too much work to do, I can't leave."
"Screw that man you're the - the King of Hell," Ryan said. "You said yourself it was just a job. Tell them you're leaving in the evening and come here."
Shane finally smiled a little. "I suppose you have a point."
"I'm always right," Ryan said, swinging round to face him again. "How about it?"
"I guess I could," Shane said. "I'm a terrible roommate though."
"You're literally a demon."
"Touche"
BELOW
They appeared outside a warehouse, somewhere in a less populated area of Los Angeles. Nondescript, with tall, metal doors and windows set high up.
Shane heaved one of the doors open, quickly, and threw himself inside. There was a lone figure inside, sitting in a chair with his arms tied behind his back: it was Ryan, out cold with a black eye and his head lolling on his shoulder.
"Fuck," Shane muttered, breaking into a dead sprint across the concrete floor. It seemed the length of a football field.
There was a sound like a bell clanging and Shane came to a dead halt, almost tipping over except for some invisible force holding him upright.
"Shit!" He said, and a mass of strange symbols flared into existence on the floor in a circle around him.
"You made it!" A voice said, and Andromalius popped into existence behind the unconscious Ryan. Hazel gasped, stumbling backwards into the shadows behind one of the shelves, though it offered little shelter. Shane snarled at her, pressing uselessly against the bounds of the circle.
"What the fuck, Andy?" He said. She clenched her hand into a fist and the symbols flared, and Shane cried out in pain, clutching at his head.
"Call me Andromalius," She said through gritted teeth.
There was a knocking at the door, and a woman slipped through. She was tall and pale, like Andromalius, but clearly human. Hazel was getting better at spotting the quirks around the eyes that indicated something immortal.
She was carrying a baseball bat over one shoulder.
“Explain yourself,” Shane said, shortly.
“This is Mary,” Andromalius said, waving to the other woman brightly. “We’ve been emailing back and forth. A few rituals here and there, some worship. Thought it was time she got her reward.”
“This is bullshit-”
Ryan groaned, head flopping forward onto his chest. "Shane? Is that you?"
"I'm here, bud. Don't worry, I've got it sorted."
"My head," Ryan mumbled, squinting at the bright light coming through the windows. "Where the fuck are we?"
"Hey, Ryan," Andromalius said, and Ryan's head snapped up.
"Oh, shit." He said.
"So, Shane Madej," Andromalius gestured to Mary to come forward, taking the bat from her and swinging it around casually. "I'm going to kill you, and take your place, as per the by laws. On the way, I'm gonna kill your friend here, and everyone apart from me is going to have an all-around terrible time."
“How did you know?” Shane asked.
“Hazel told me everything,” Andromalius said. “Who to find, and where to find him. Now it’s all coming together.”
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Shane asked, eyes dark with fury. He swung around to face Hazel
"She was supposed to be my spy on the inside," She said, hefting the bat in her hands. "Get some intel on you. All your human secrets. Something went wrong, but I made do. You're here now."
Mary took a seat by the wall opposite Shane, watching with mild interest.
“Is that true?” Shane said, staring at Hazel with clenched fists.
“Please, Shane, I swear, I don’t know how any of this happened-” Hazel babbled. “I’m not a spy!”
“I made a well-placed bribe in the Docucentre and got her sent to the wrong place,” Andromalius said, tying her long dark hair back with a hair bobble. “Azrael was supposed to brief her, promise her eternal life or whatever if she did what we asked but I guess he forgot. It didn’t matter, I still got what I needed.”
“Why would Azrael help you?” Shane asked.
“You’d be surprised,” Andromalius hummed. “A human on the throne of Hell. It’s not right.”
“How did you get through the wards on the apartment?”
“Hazel broke them for me.” Andromalius said. “I think you’re trying to stall.”
"If you lay a finger on him," Shane said. "I'm going to kill you. I'm going to put you on your own rack for a thousand years and then kill you."
"But you're stuck in there," Andromalius said, stalking towards Ryan. "And me and Ryan are out here, together."
She lifted the bat. Ryan started to scoot the chair away from her, but he couldn't move fast enough.
"Shane?" Ryan said, panic rising in his voice.
"Please," Shane said, voice cracking. "I'll give you anything you want."
"I already have everything I want, right here." Andromalius said.
"Fuck!" Shane muttered, falling to his knees and desperately scrabbling at the edge of the circle. It sparked and flashed, sending him flying backwards. Andromalius hefted the bat, standing over Ryan with a sickening grin painting her pale face.
"Remember last time we were here? When I was trying to convince you to hurt the person who sat where Ryan is sitting? How the tables have turned."
Shane sat bolt upright and began scrabbling in his pockets for something.
"What are you doing?" Andromalius said, pointing the bat at him. "Stop that."
"You can't get in here," Shane said, pulling his cellphone out his pocket and dialling a number. "Hey, Eligos?"
"Put that down, now," Andromalius said.
"Execute the protocol," Shane said, and flipped Andromalius the finger. He tapped the speaker button and all of them heard the sound of an alarm blaring and heavy steel doors slamming open in quick succession.
"Shit!" Andromalius said, and brought the bat down on Ryan's knee. There was a horrible squelching, splintering noise, and Ryan howled with pain, chair rocking backwards as he writhed in pain.
Shane dropped the cellphone in shock and it shattered on the floor.
"I'm gonna have to go deal with that, now," Andromalius said, throwing the bat at the floor in frustration. "The torture queue will be all messed up. Fuck you, Madej, for real."
Shane spat on the floor at his feet.
“Watch them,” Andromalius said to Mary, and vanished.
Ryan was sitting with his chin resting on his chest, panting heavily.
"Ryan," Shane said, urgently, pressing at the edge of the circle like he could reach out to him. "Ryan, are you okay?"
Ryan laughed a little, then groaned when the movement jostled his ruined knee.
"Yeah, man. Peachy."
"I'm - I'm so sorry."
Ryan did not look up.
"It's not your fault."
"You shouldn't be here."
Ryan did not look up. He didn't say anything.
Shane sighed, crossing his legs underneath him and settling down at the edge of the circle closest to his friend.
“You.” He said, in a cold voice. Mary looked up, eyes holding nothing but disinterest. “What’s your deal? Ever wanted eternal life?”
“I serve Andromalius,” Mary said, examining her nails.
“Oh, sure, but I’m the King of Hell,” Shane said, flashing a cold smile at her. “The big guy. I can get you anything you want, kid, just let me out of this circle.”
Hazel stayed hidden behind the shelf, brooding on the fact that this was all her fault. Ryan was taking deep, controlled breaths, still staring at the concrete floor. She looked to one side and saw that there was a box cutter sitting on top of the box that was at eye level.
She steeled herself, summoning every bit of corporeality she had, and picked it up. Mary was still examining her nails, or she would have seen a box cutter floating across the floor.
Hazel tried her best to concentrate, the knife shaking in her hands, but it was too much for her. The box cutter fell to the ground with a clunk.
Mary looked around, confused. Hazel froze, even though she knew she couldn’t be seen by the two humans.
The boxcutter was hidden from Mary’s sight by Shane, still sitting slumped in the middle of the circle. Frozen, she watched as Mary stood up and began to look around the warehouse. When her back was turned, Hazel picked up the box cutter again and walked as fast as she could manage whilst still concentrating on holding it up towards Ryan.
She brushed a hand against his wrist to let him know she was there, and his head shot up as he looked around in a panic. His knee was starting to swell up to twice its normal size, pressing against the leg of his jeans.
Shane noticed her standing behind him and pursed his lips.
She pressed the box cutter into Ryan’s bound hands. It was the best she could do.
Mary turned around, seeing Ryan looking up, and narrowed her eyes.
“What are you doing?”
“Stay away from him.” Shane said, getting to his feet again.
Hazel stumbled over to the edge of the circle and bent over, examining the strange symbols. They had been daubed roughly on the floor in black paint. When she touched them, she felt the strength drain from her immediately, her hand growing suddenly more transparent.
“Don’t bother, Hazel,” Shane said, tired. “You’ll just fade away altogether.”
“What are you talking about?” Mary said. Hazel ignored both of them, dragging a fingernail over the edge of the closest symbol. The barest hint of paint flaked away. She scratched at it again. And again.
Andromalius returned in a flash of fire, eyes black and full of rage. She saw Hazel scratching at the edge of the circle and let out a roar of frustration.
“If one more person tries to get in my way today, I am going to lose my shit.” She stormed over, grabbing Hazel by the throat and lifting her clean off the ground. Hazel gurgled in protest, scrabbling at her hand, but she felt her strength rapidly leaving her. She kicked her legs in complete panic, the very essence of herself draining away to…somewhere else, somewhere quiet and dark.
“Wait, hey, stop that!” Mary cried.
There was a sound like a bell clanging again. Andromalius let her go, but instead of falling to the ground, Hazel drifted a few feet above the concrete floor, almost completely insensate.
Behind her, she saw that Ryan had released himself from his bonds and dragged himself over to the edge of the circle, where he had used the box cutter to scratch a gap in the circle. Andromalius stared at him, almost dumbfounded with rage.
Shane straightened up, looking frantically between Andromalius and Ryan.
Andromalius screamed, so loud it sent a jolt of pain through a head Hazel didn’t really have any more, and all the windows in the warehouse blew in. Glass flew in all directions, showering the two humans and the two demons standing there. Mary cried out in horror, flinging her hands over her head as the glass lacerated her skin.
Shane dived forward, grabbing Ryan, and there was a sound like a parachute opening as a pair of enormous black wings erupted from his back and shielded the both of them from the glass flying everywhere. Ryan cried out in pain as the two of them rolled over and jostled his busted leg.
For the briefest of moments there was silence. Hazel floated.
Shane leapt to his feet again, eyes turning black, and lunged at Andromalius. She met him in mid-air, snarling, matching him blow-for-blow as the two struggled over the broken circle. His wings battered at her. Ryan curled into a ball, clutching at his shattered leg and groaning.
Hazel shut her eyes, the sound of snarling and tearing growing distant as she drifted. It all seemed so far away; so unimportant…
Shane finally gained the upper hand over Andromalius and lifted her clean over his head, throwing her with superhuman strength clean across the warehouse. She skidded across the concrete, her black t-shirt tearing and horrible burns opening in her back, and came to a rest. Shane watched, panting, his face turned black and spidery and inhuman claws growing from his hands.
“Shane – watch out!” Ryan cried, hoarsely, and suddenly there was a sizzling noise as Mary dumped a plastic bottle of water on Shane’s back. The wings vanished. He roared in pain, turning to face her and reeling backwards as she sprayed more water at his face, falling over and covering his blistering face with his hands.
“Don’t move,” Mary panted, pointing the spray bottle at his face. She was covered in her own blood, face torn and scratched by the glass.
Andromalius pulled herself slowly to her feet, feeling at her torn-up back with a wince. “Thanks, peon.”
“No problem,” Mary said, not taking her eyes off Shane, who was writhing in pain on the floor.
“Give me a minute,” Andromalius said, and closed her eyes as the wounds on her back began to close up.
There was a sickening crack, and Mary fell sideways, spilling the holy water across the concrete floor. Ryan was standing behind her, holding the baseball bat in his hands, with a terrifying mixture of fear, desperation and anger in his eyes.
Shane stared at him for a long moment, before rolling over with difficulty and hauling himself to his feet for the third time. Andromalius opened her eyes and regarded the scene with horror. Mary was lying unmoving on the ground, blood mixing with the pool of holy water on the concrete.
Shane held a hand out, and a greatsword appeared in it, outlined with blazing black fire. The black wings stretched out on either side of him, casting long shadows across the floor. He lifted it up to examine it, unbothered by the flames.
“That’s never happened before,” He said, quietly, before Andromalius disappeared and reappeared in front of him, lunging for his throat. Shane batted aside her claws with one hand and thrust the sword clean through her chest, black ichor exploding over his wrist and forearm.
She gaped, scrabbling at the blade in her chest, before exploding into ash and vanishing.
Shane stood, head bowed, wings folding up and vanishing. His eyes were still black, roiling with anger and loathing, spreading across his face like cracks in glass. His lips were drawn back in a rictus snarl, revealing long, sharp teeth.
“Shane?” Ryan was standing, leaning on the baseball bat, both legs trembling. Shane whirled to face him, and Ryan flinched back at the terrible sight of him. Shane seemed to droop, the black in his eyes receding until they were normal and brown again.
“Ryan. Are you alright?”
Ryan said nothing, turning to look at the other Hazel lying on the floor. He limped over to her, reaching out and feeling for her pulse and then recoiling.
“She’s – she’s dead.”
“Ryan-”
“Bring her back.” Ryan said, turning back to Shane on unsteady legs. “You’re in charge of that stuff. Bring her back.”
“I – I can’t.”
“You have to.” Panic was building in Ryan’s voice. “I – I killed her, Shane. I can’t have killed someone.”
Shane stared at him, helpless. He said nothing.
“Do something!” Ryan said. His good leg gave out and he fell to the floor with a cry of pain. Shane was already darting forward, reaching out to help Ryan sit up, cradling his face in his hands. Ryan batted his hands away, clutching at his knee and taking deep, pained breaths.
“I’m sorry,” Shane muttered under his breath. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
Leaving one hand on Ryan’s shoulder, he reached down and passed a hand over his shattered knee. There was a cracking sound and the swelling began to subside. Ryan made a high-pitched noise of relief, his head falling to rest against Shane’s forearm.
“Breathe, Ryan.” Shane said. Ryan grabbed onto Shane’s arm with his other hand, taking deep, shuddering breaths until he appeared to have calmed down again.
“I’m so sorry,” Shane said, so quiet as to be barely audible. “This is all my fault. I never wanted you to get hurt.”
Ryan nodded, still not looking up at him. Shane reached out with his free hand and cradled Ryan’s face with it, tipping his chin up to see his face properly. “Please believe me.”
“I do believe you,” Ryan said, still holding Shane’s arm. Shane pitched forward and pressed his lips to his clumsily, desperately. Ryan kissed him back for a minute, eyes screwed tightly closed, before pulling back and pushing on Shane’s arm until he let him go.
“I need a minute.”
“Ryan-”
He scrambled to his feet and half-ran, half-limped out of the warehouse, struggling to slide the doors open, and vanishing into the bright afternoon sunshine. Shane watched him go, sitting back with a slump. His shirt was torn, his slacks sprayed with blood, water, and concrete dust.
Hazel watched all of this and struggled to care. She could feel the last atoms of herself, the few that remained, fading as she hung, disinterested in the air. The opposite of life was indifference, she knew; she could feel what remained of her to care slipping away.
“Oh, shit, Hazel,” Shane suddenly said, pulling himself to his feet and grabbing her by the ankle. She fell to the ground, suddenly whole again, and started to scream.
“Alright, kid, jeez.”
She curled herself into a ball, clutching at herself, relishing in the feeling of being whole. Eventually, she was satisfied that she was entirely there, and turned over to look at Shane, who was standing with his shoulders slumped and his hands thrust deep in his pockets.
“I’m really sorry, man.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” Shane said, face carefully blank.
“Are you gonna go after him?”
“No,” He sighed. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have – just really terrible timing on my part.”
“You’re telling me,” She said and he made a face at her.
“Let’s get out of here.” He said, reaching down to help her to her feet. “I think I’ve figured out how to get you home.”
BELOW
Shane sat, slumped against a closed door at the top of the stairs with his hands in his lap. The apartment was very quiet, the only sound being the ticking of the clock in the hallway downstairs. It was late evening, long shadows stretching across the wooden floors and playing softly across his face. He heaved a sigh, thunking his head back against the wood.
“Ryan? Can we please talk?”
Silence.
“Okay,” Shane said. “I’m out here if you want me.”
The quiet stretched on, unbroken. If he listened very carefully, he could hear Ryan breathing on the other side of the door. He waited.
Suddenly Ryan pulled the door open and Shane fell backwards with a surprised yelp, banging his head on the floor.
“What do you want to talk about?” He said, and Shane scrambled to his feet, rubbing at his head. His face was carefully blank, the knee that Andromalius had broken completely free of swelling.
“I – we – you’ve been in your room for like, seven hours now. I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine.” Ryan said. Shane stared up at him in confusion. He was pale and twitchy, eye still bruised from earlier.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Ryan said roughly, hand clenched on the edge of the door. “No. I don’t know.”
“I’m really sorry, man,” Shane said, fisting his hands in the front of his trousers.
“You already said sorry.”
“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” Shane said, swallowing hard. “I crossed a boundary. We’re just friends, and you were having a bad time. I’m sorry.”
“Shane,” Ryan sighed, shoulders slumping as he rested his head against the edge of the door. “I killed someone today.”
“I…yeah. You did.”
“I killed someone for you.”
“I suppose, if you want to think about it like that.”
“Why didn’t you tell me how you felt before?”
Shane stared at him for a long time, mouth working noiselessly as he searched for the right words.
“Ryan…you saw me. I’m not human. I can’t ask you to – to give me that. It wouldn’t be fair.”
He scrubbed a hand across his face, feeling the air move as Ryan stepped closer to him.
“Shane…I literally killed for you. And you didn’t have to ask.”
“I wouldn’t have asked, ever, I swear-” Shane started to babble, and Ryan silenced him by brushing his limp, long hair out of his face, hand lingering by the hinge of his jaw.
“I know.”
“I’d kill a hundred people for you.” Shane said.
“I don’t want that.”
“I know.” Shane said, pressing his face into Ryan’s hand and closing his eyes. “Just let me have this, for a moment, then I’ll never mention it again. I promise.”
“God, you’re an idiot,” Ryan said, kissing his eyes, his cheeks and his nose and finally pressing his lips to his. Shane groaned, screwing his eyes tight shut and kissing him back, pressing his entire body against Ryan’s. What sweet relief, the drag of his bottom lip between his teeth; the brightest and best reminder of being human he had ever felt.
He broke away, panting, and their noses bumped harshly with the effort of keeping themselves from each other.
“The…the…” Ryan’s eyes were closed, brow furrowed as he tried to articulate his feelings. “The strength of what I felt, when I thought you might be in danger, and the things I would have done to save you…s’really fucking scary, man.”
“Tell me about it,” Shane said. “I killed the Devil.”
The opposite of life was indifference, and Shane was lit up with care for him, only him. The pressure of Ryan’s lips on his own at first was light, ephemeral, until his hands slid into his hair and Ryan licked into his mouth, turning Shane’s head to get the angle he wanted. Shane hummed with pleasure, his fingers digging into Ryan’s sides hard enough to bruise.
With the lightest tug, Ryan walked the two of them backwards into the bedroom, sitting down on the bed with a thud. The room was still torn up from the attack earlier, but Shane did not notice.
“Do you want to-?” He trailed off, distracted by Ryan’s blinding smile, pressing forward to stand between his knees.
“Want to what?”
“I dunno,” Shane shrugged, swinging Ryan’s hands back and forth in his. He knew, but it seemed that to say it aloud would break this strange little bubble that had grown around them, one that whilst they were inside they didn’t remember the bloodshed and the violence that had brought them there.
Ryan tugged on his hand hard enough to pull him into his lap, and Shane fell with a huff. Hands ran across the front of his chest, catching on the places his shirt had torn, and suddenly it seemed silly to keep it on; Shane frantically began undoing buttons, throwing it off.
“What’s wrong with your shirt?” Ryan said, laughing a little.
“It’s all torn,” Shane said. “I was gonna throw it out anyway.”
“Okay,” Ryan said, humming in pleasure as Shane pressed his face into the side of his neck, sucking and biting at the skin there. The sight of the lithe muscle and collarbone made him think want, take, and the demon in him growled in approval. Then, when he pulled back and looked at those liquid brown eyes, he thought worship, and the demon was cowed.
ABOVE
“Hazel?”
At the sound of her dad’s voice, Hazel snapped back to attention. She felt very strange, as though she had left her body for a second or had a dream whilst standing up.
She could see dream visions still hanging in the air on front of her: a man in a shirt and slacks with huge, black wings, a tattoo of a snake moving on its own, a waving tentacle.
“Are you alright?” Her dad said, moving to stand in front of her, and at the sight of that familiar, lined face, with the tight grey curls, she was filled with a profound relief. She reached out and pulled him into a tight hug, pressing her face into his shoulder.
“Hazel!” He said, laughing a little. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” She said, voice muffled. “I feel really weird.”
“You’re going to be late for work.” He said, gently disentangling from her, and she shook her head to clear it of the cobwebs.
“Yeah, yeah, of course.” She grabbed her bike helmet, her keys, and hurried out the door.
She made it to work just fine. She didn’t know why she thought she wouldn’t.
“You alright, Hazel?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Hazel said, tying her apron. “I think I had a really weird…dream last night.”
“What was it about?”
“I actually don’t remember,” Hazel said, shrugging. “Can’t have been that weird.”
BELOW
The two of them lay facing each other, on Ryan’s bed, Shane stroking his hand up and down the warm skin on Ryan’s side until his eyes slipped closed.
“We should go on vacation,” Shane whispered.
“Are you allowed to just leave?” Ryan asked, eyes still closed. “Let Hell run itself?”
“I’m the big boss,” Shane said. “If I want to go on vacation, I’ll go.”
“Where do you want to go?” Ryan asked.
“I don’t know. Anywhere.”
“Somewhere warm,” Ryan said, shuffling closer and resting his head on Shane’s shoulder.
The last of the evening light from the window was blocked out as a pair of huge black wings swept overhead, a sanctuary for them from the world outside.
ABOVE
There was a knocking at the door.
“I’ll get it!” Hazel shouted, bounding down the hallway and pulling the front door open. A man stood on the other side, Asian, with black hair and a dark dusting of stubble across his jaw, wearing a tightly-fitted polo shirt. He had his hands shoved deep in his pockets awkwardly.
She was struck with that strange sensation again, the visions she had seen swimming before her – this man had been in them.
“Can I help you with something?” Hazel asked, leaning on the doorframe.
“Are you – Hazel?” He asked. “You don’t look how I…”
“Yeah,” She said, eyes narrowing. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
“I’m…a family friend,” He said, sticking a hand out. “We might have met. I’m Ryan.”
She took his hand and shook it, a little wary. “What brings you to the neighbourhood, Ryan?”
“I was just passing through and thought I’d stop to say hi,” Ryan said, shoving his hands back into his pockets. “How’s your dad doing?”
“He’s fine,” She said. Ryan stood, staring at a spot on the doorframe to the left of her a little awkwardly.
“I have a message for you, from Shane.”
“Who…?” Hazel said, but it was like she had been hit over the head with a baseball bat. She did know a Shane. Didn’t she? She had the impression, a hint, a dreamy memory of a man wearing a shirt and tie that didn’t suit him. A man with huge, black wings – surely a different man.
“He asked me to tell you,” Ryan said. “That he forgives you. And thank you for your help.”
“I didn’t help anyone,” Hazel said, though her hand flew automatically to her temple at the stab of pain in her head.
“You did,” Ryan said earnestly. “You really did. Thanks for everything.”
“I – you’re welcome, I guess,” Hazel said, staring at him baffled.
“Well, I’d better get going,” Ryan said. “Nice to meet you, Hazel.”
“Bye,” She said, watching him walk back down the street. Another man was waiting for him on the corner, someone tall, but Hazel’s eyes seemed to slide right off him whenever she tried to look. Ryan took his hand and there was the briefest impression of wings flapping, and then the two of them vanished.