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Hoping to beat the sun's daily resurrection, Abaddon crawled through the hotel corridors. He kept quiet, only stopping to eat a random key he found. He hoped it was for something important.
Sneaking around usually came with a mild thrill. It delivered the chance to terrorise someone or something, or at least steal something shiny for his nest.
But not today.
When Abaddon reached a window and prepared to jump, Candlehead came through the wall. “Candles?”
“Not today." Abaddon waved the ghost away.
He jumped out the window and landed in a patch of long grass. Once steady, he bolted into the woods, twisting into the trees and tangled undergrowth.
A dark shadow swept over and a familiar screech hit the air. Mothman landed in front of Abaddon with its wings spread, claws poised, and drool dripping from its fangs.
Abaddon turned his head away. “Not today.”
Mothman looked set to attack. Abaddon glanced at it once and Mothman gave a knowing squeak before it flew away.
After a journey through the trees, Abaddon found the ditch he'd dug with his vessel's bare hands.
The hollow filled with scattered bones offered comfort. It also contained a few rocks that had pleasing shapes, random items he'd stolen from houses: nail clippers (valued because they were shiny), hair bands (cats liked them and so did Abaddon), a selection of knives (some still blood encrusted), and all sorts of trinkets and knick-knacks … plus someone's big toe and a rather hairy nose.
Usually Abaddon would scrabble around, chase a hair band, chew on a couple of rocks, eat any bugs he found amidst the clutter.
But not today.
Instead he cleared an area, then sat slumped over with his forehead on his knees.
“Three hundred and two years,” he muttered and moved a hand so it laid flat on the slightly damp earth below him. “Hell … aren't you ever coming for me? Am I truly forsaken?”
“Hey, Abaddon,” Esther's voice pierced the silence. “Are you out here?”
“Not today,” Abaddon called back.
He looked up to find Esther peering into the ditch. She screwed up her nose. “What's wrong with today?”
Abaddon felt the burn of unwanted memories. Fear. Burning. Falling. Defeat. He sighed and drooped his head.
“Don't wanna talk about it, huh?” Esther asked.
Abaddon said nothing.
“That's okay, I get it.” Esther clambered into the ditch and settled beside Abaddon. “We can just sit here.”
Abaddon didn't want company, but he accepted the presence. He did however quietly grasp his favourite rock and move it beyond Esther's reach.
She smirked at him. “It's okay, I didn't want that one anyway … ooh, what's this?” Esther picked up a mold covered stick.
“Mine!” Abaddon swiped it from her.
Esther frowned. "One day you're gonna have to share, Abaddon.”
“Not today.”
Esther tilted her head and pursed her lips. “Okay, I gotta know, what is it about today?”
“It's three hundred and two years to the day.” Abaddon sighed. A small cloud formed over his head and started to rain on him.
“I’m gonna need additional information,” Esther said. She reached for one of Abaddon's knives.
He snatched it away. “Hands off my stuff!”
“Okay, okay …" Esther held up her palms. "But, seriously, what's up with today?”
Abaddon stabbed the blade into the ground. “It's been three hundred and two years and I'm still stuck here.”
“What's wrong with here?” Esther looked around. “I thought you liked this place? It's damp, smelly, and full of bones.”
“You don't get it.” Abaddon clenched his fists. “They bound me to this wretched body. They stole my power. I was humiliated and abandoned, then left here to rot.”
Esther tilted her head. She looked conflicted. “That's how you really feel?”
Abaddon hung his head. “Do they even want me? Remember me? Are they so ashamed of my failure that they have sentenced me to eternal banishment?”
Esther's face looked strange. She folded her arms over her knees and rested her chin on them. “I thought you liked it here.”
“I despise it,” Abaddon assured her.
“Oh.” Esther turned away from him. “Is it really that bad? Isn't there anything you like?”
“Nothing,” Abaddon said. “I am damned and not in the good way. Left without my brethren. I am alone.”
Esther stood up. Her face hardened. “You're not alone, Abaddon, I'm right here.”
“You are an interesting human, Esther,” Abaddon said. “I consider you a valuable allie, but you are not a demon. Not my kin.”
Hurt soured Esther's expression. She scrambled up the ditch wall and ran away.
“Well, now your point is moot,” Abaddon called after her. "I am truly alone."
No one replied.
Abaddon waited. He had planned on wallowing in self pity all day … as was customary, but his mind became riddled with questions. He tried to ignore them, but they whispered to him anyway.
Why was Esther upset with him?
He had spoken the truth. He was alone. Abandoned. Forgotten. No one meaningful cared about him. Hell had closed its fiery doors and locked him out.
“Everything is pointless,” Abaddon muttered.
He picked up the big toe and played catch with it to pass the time. He organised his knives in order of sharpness. He stuck the cadaver nose on a rock and squished two bugs to look like eyes. He fired hair bands up in the air, found a spider under a bit of wood, but couldn't muster the appetite to eat it.
Abaddon sighed. On all fours, he spun in a few circles to flatten the ground before settling down to await the sun's execution.
“Abaddon?”
He looked up and found Esther sat on the pit's edge. Her legs dangled down as she peered at him.
"What do you want?" he asked.
Esther edged closer. "I'm sorry, Abaddon. I shouldn't have run off.” She offered a small, shy smile. “I bought you something.” She lifted her arm, brandishing a recently deceased squirrel by the tail.
“A dead squirrel!” Abaddon exclaimed.
Esther jumped into the ditch and gave it to him. “I know they help you feel better.”
"They do." Abaddon bit the head off the rodent and swallowed it.
Esther sank to the ground. “But not today?” she asked.
Abaddon sat beside her and sliced open the squirrel's belly with his sharpest knife. He quietly removed the organs and laid them out neatly.
Esther sighed, “I know I'm not a demon and I know you're miserable. I'm really sorry. I just want to help you feel a little better.”
Abaddon dropped his knife. He pushed the squirrel aside and looked at Esther.
She shrugged at him. “I dunno if Hell will ever come for you. I hope they do, but in the meantime I want you to know you have a home here with us.”
Abaddon felt his eyes widen. “I do?”
Esther smiled. "Of course you do.”
Abaddon smiled back at her. "And I can eat carpet and build a fort?”
"Better yet, we can build a fort!” Esther exclaimed. She jumped up, climbed the pit, then reached down, offering her hand to Abaddon. “You coming?”
Abaddon hesitated, then reached up. Esther pulled him out and started for the hotel. “I know where we can get sheets and a giant's thigh bone to use as a tent pole."
She hurried ahead, but Abaddon lingered behind. He turned to look at the pit with a heavy sigh …
Fire burst from the ground, a portal opened. A deep voice said, “Abaddon, we've come for you.”
“Abaddon?” Esther called from far up ahead. “You coming?”
“Come home, Abaddon,” the deep voice beckoned in the other direction.
Abaddon froze. Feelings he didn't understand fought a war inside him. It had been so long. He'd wished for this so greatly. But now ...
“Hey, Abaddon, I found a skull!” Esther shouted from even further away.
“Are you coming home, Abaddon?" the voice from the offered portal asked.
Abaddon looked both ways.
"Abaddon?" Esther and the portal called in unison.
"Come home," the portal added.
Abaddon turned from it and walked towards the hotel.
“Not today."