Chapter Text
She dreamt in red each night that first year.
They warned of gnawing mouths and sharpened teeth, of noxious plumes and toxic air, of ceaseless hellfire and depravity—Vaggie knew of the darkness that ran through every sinner’s rancid soul.
But she knew nothing of red.
In Heaven, all was purple and glittering gold. Soft swells of cotton candy pinks filled her days and nights. All was bathed in light—she was bathed in light.
Until her first extermination.
Flying through the portal was a revelation. Hell sang in more shades of red than she could have imagined. They descended upon the twisting city like a wasp's nest kicked loose, buzzing between buildings that sprouted like weeds through a cracked and bleeding ground. There were burgundy hills that rolled in the distance, shining pupils that blinked in shadows, a sky of velvet so thick she choked on its depth.
She pierced the demon’s throat and a thick tar spurted from the wound. Her heart jolted and she knew then that something terrible within her had awakened. He slumped over, limp and gargling, when she slid the spear from his neck. Black blood weeped from the gash she opened, ebbing and flowing with each waning heartbeat. Trembling, she wiped the blade against his side to clean it of his mess and oh, it wasn’t black. The blood too smeared bright red along his tattered shirt.
The clouds above swirled and the cries of countless others rang out but Vaggie stood transfixed, watching the light fade from his eyes until they went dull, darkening into a rusted shade of brick. Here, even death was red.
Someone above screamed to continue the purge. After that, it was impossible to dream of much else.
†
Eternal life wasn’t so much a prize when the days knotted together into unnatural shapes. Vaggie tried to pry her fingers in and tease apart some start and some end, but all she would manage was more of the same.
“And the best part, bitches?” They flew back through the portal and Adam slapped each on the ass as they passed. He celebrated as if they’d just won the Superbowl. Vaggie dodged him, slipping between two other exorcists. “Eternal life means eternal exterminations!” He repeated the same sentiment year over year—and how many had that been? A dark thought twinged: was there any limit to the blood one could spill over the course of infinity?
In the locker room, she sat her helmet upon the bathroom counter. Gingerly, she wiped it clean, ringing out the towel in the sink; it was as close to a ceremony as she could afford amongst the crowd.
“Combat training tomorrow at oh-five hundred hours, ladies. Only three-hundred and sixty-four days left to prepare.” Lute’s voice echoed against the shock-white walls. “No mercy!” she called, and as a unit, they responded in kind: “No mercy!”
Vaggie returned to her rite. She let the water run, watching as the red—stark against the marble—swirled down the drain.
†
On her off-days, which were few, she went to the theater. The multiplex was a towering landmark in the city. It stretched upwards into periwinkle skies, floors upon floors where every genre of movie one could hope for played (it was Heaven, after all).
Vaggie loved those from the human world best.
The classics were always crowded (All Dogs Go To Heaven was a staple) but Vaggie often found herself alone in a theater, tucked away towards the back. She liked the tragedies: the bittersweet musicals where the humans would cry and sing and give in to their futility; where they’d wave their lovers off, wishing them an unburdened life; where they’d croon out a lament and where the credits would roll with no satisfying resolution save for the knowledge that some soul had brought forth this work to shine a light, if only for the briefest moment, on the heartbreaking reality of existence.
Obviously, these films were not very popular in Heaven, but Vaggie watched them all.
†
A secret she could never tell: she was pretty fucking good at her job.
“One of my best gals,” Adam said, fiddling with the remote. The video globe sprung to life with footage of Vaggie in the field. “You all could learn a thing or two from this bad bitch, alright? Now circle the fuck up and watch.”
“Why the fuck do you have this recorded?” she demanded, refusing to step any closer towards the screen.
“Uh, because it’s called training material? Are you fucking dumb?” He looked to Lute who nodded. “And why the fuck do you even care? You should be proud I want to show you off. You’re only good at one thing, Vaggisaurus, so don’t forget it.” A bucket of popcorn materialized and he shoveled a fistful into his mouth. On screen, Vaggie swung her spear upwards, disemboweling the sinner in a smooth arc. When their guts spilled to the ground, Adam hollered, pounding his knee and sending the popcorn flying. “See! That was fucking sick!”
Another secret: on dark days when there was no light left to follow, she found a sick comfort in being good for at least this one thing.
†
If God existed, Vaggie never met them. She had hoped in the beginning but as the years wore on, something shifted. Was it her? Or was it pure inevitability that, given time, all good things must molder?
Anyway, it was for the best—what would she have even said.
†
The year she fell wasn’t all that different from those before (a fact that later would spoil over rotten into guilt).
If not for chance that Lute bore witness to that single act of mercy, Vaggie would have flown back through that portal, would have splattered blood across the marble, would have dreamt again of only red. There were no warning signs, no whiffs of defection. She remained the perfect little soldier until her violent end. (This, among many things, sat heavy upon her soul. She tucked it away, into a dark place she dug out within her chest.)
He was too small. In a moment of chaos, Vaggie made the calculation. The knife to her eye socket—stinging and ugly—was unbearably cold. (How fucking weird to see one’s eye outside of their own skull!) Then, as Lute cleaved the wings from her back, darkness fell.
She came to—once, twice. She had the foresight to shed her uniform. The alleyway tilted off-kilter. She looked to the sky, realizing then that it might be the last thing she ever saw. It was red—and not in the oppressive way like that first time through the portal—but warm, beautiful. To gaze upon it stoked a fire in her belly: here at last was something new. She would have been content to die then—and in that startling certainty she found that peace that eluded her beneath lavender clouds.
But as it went, everything changed.
Hell had more red to offer: Charlie’s eyes, burning brighter than any shade yet.