No More Trustworthy Than Devil Kings

There were others who shared their terror of the light, and it was darkness once more—undoubtedly the hour of devils. He stared as the last of the sun's warmth faded over the horizon with a sensation that was almost like fear itself. He pondered, for a brief minute, the gods who sent him and who would consign this mortal earth to such a lengthy period of darkness. Didn't these individuals rely on them for protection?

However, the questioning was too much for him; it made his heart uneasy and left a leadenness in his throat. It couldn't be good for someone who wasn't made for sin or temptation to be kept in this mortal world for even this long. He had encountered situations throughout the day where the gods could have easily intervened, but they chose not to.

He was worn out. However, he found himself back in the woodland where he had previously encountered the female demon, motivated by an inexplicable yearning. That woman and the female demon.

No. Tonight, his thoughts couldn't stay there. As though seeking comfort from an absence of warmth, he closed his eyes, balled his fists, and turned his face toward the sky. He felt completely alone as he obeyed those whose voices he could hear no better than humanity's, listening for the demon—his obligation, his purpose for being here.

Such a person was not intended for this earth.

The silence was broken by the sound of innumerable wings rising to the sky, and his eyes opened, staring at the spot where they did so. He jerked and lifted his own huge feathered limbs. then paused for a while, wondering for the first time if he might not be able to fly. Just because he wouldn't be able to, not just because of his recuperating wing.

He pushed such thoughts from his mind and closed his eyes once more. Why now when they hadn't come before? Why since the kiss of that woman? How had she affected him?

He was able to push those thoughts away with a sound like to a frustrated moan, and he leaped to the skies as though his wings were unclouded. He stood up with minimal effort, proving his trust, and the doubts temporarily subsided. All that mattered was the battle in front of him. He threatened to kill her this time if she didn't give up. It was his responsibility.

His initial reaction upon seeing her was not one of indignation or disgust, but rather the strangely unsettling realization that she was smaller than he had recalled. Almost as soon as he noticed her, the demon looked up herself, and a strange, contorted scowl appeared on her face. But this time she made no sound, only flashed her teeth. Then was she giving up? Are you trying to find a way out? Biding her opportunity to strike?

A little heavier than he had planned, he fell in front of her, briefly exposing himself. But she hadn't moved to exploit his momentary vulnerability as he swiftly recovered. She simply stood there, her face displaying a broken expression of anguish. The last thing he had ever imagined seeing in a demon's eyes was grief.

"Betrayer..." Even if it was a whisper this time instead than a roar, the sound was nonetheless improper and wicked. His wing feathers tensed and lifted as a result. He didn't hit, though, because she didn't. It was a standoff for now. Why?

Feelings rolled around in his breast, pulling him back and forth, and finally he tried a triumphant smile. He couldn't have realized it, but it came out like a sneer. He asked, "Surrendering, filthy beast?" and felt instantly less clean, but he was unable to explain why.

If it was a flinch rather than a repressed want to fight, she flinched clearly. Her eyes flashed with fury, and her lips twisted till every shining length of fang gleamed sickeningly in the moonlight. This simply made him more enraged. Why would she despise a creature like him?

"Traitor!" This time she snapped it, but her voice also had a change in tone. He was unable to identify it. "Scum from God! I'm not even familiar to you!

"What do I need to know?" he asked icily, his anger starting to subside as he was thrust into a scenario that seemed familiar and one he was capable of managing. "You are a demon—a rodent from hell." I'm here to make sure you depart this world, whether voluntarily or as a corpse, since you don't belong here.

She let out a distorted, slightly irrational sound that sounded like laughter. "Hordes of vermin from hell?" As though they repulsed her as much as they repulsed him, the words were somewhat choked. Something about her gradually evened out, and this time the bare teeth were a smile. Now, too, she found herself in a situation that she appeared to know how to manage. "You're not the first person sent to bring about that outcome. You will not be the final one.

Not the first one? Had there been others previously? A quicker pulse made his heart thud—or what passed for a heart inside him. Who was this monster capable of standing in front of angels? Just a woman?

Or did she fight by herself? Had she set him up for failure? Once more, she refrained from attacking despite a cautious, deliberate examination of the shadows surrounding them that revealed nothing. Rather, she simply stood there grinning, as if she delighted in each uncomfortable minute that came and went.

"Since you don't have a name," she reminded him, trying to sound sweet and nearly succeeding, "I'll be the one to give you a name."

Before it went via his spine, it seemed as though someone had driven a lance of ice through his chest, removing bone and tissue in the process. Would she give him a name? A demon? "How—how dare you?" He was so furious that he was trembling and gritting his teeth, too furious to even consider moving. "How dare you propose..."

She continued, seemingly oblivious to his rage, "I will call you Pigeon." "Transmitting communications for your lords back and forth, without questioning what they say... For short, Pidge. Only a worthless little—

Since he had finally been the one to attack first and could take no more, she spoke no more. She grabbed both of his hands and spun to use his momentum against him, her eyes brightening and her terrible face splitting into a grin. He paused just in front of her and struck a very irate tree in the face. It reluctantly gave, tearing his flesh in protest with lengths of sharp splinters.

The fact that it was pain—actual pain—and that the demon had just moved aside to inflict it was what startled him the most. It was a novel realization that mortal things might harm him, even though the near-vampire had only broken his wing the previous evening. He could be hurt just as easily by these beings that he had been obligated to defend as by the demon.

Blood ran down his face, one eye was totally blinded, and the spot where a piece of wood had punctured it was throbbing horribly hot. He waited a time to stand up again, during which she had another opportunity to attack but chose not to. She actually appeared to be ill as he turned. frozen in place, as though she hadn't anticipated the extent of the harm caused by her own deception and now didn't want to acknowledge that it had.

He groped for the splinter in his eye, expecting to tear it free, and wiped away the sticky web of blood that trickled down his ripped features. He might be able to restore some of the damage if he moved fast enough.

"No!" He was astonished and staggered by the cry, not just because the demon had said it, but because it was a human woman's voice, one that was full of sorrow and suffering. "You'll remove the eye! Avoid doing it!

Unable to comprehend what he was seeing or hearing, he responded automatically as she approached him, tearing off a portion of her skin with his own hand in revenge. Once more, the demon's shriek was human, but it swiftly escalated to the frantic height of a demon's roar of agony. Her taloned hands gripped at her throat, where the flesh had ripped free, and she staggered back, staring at him with betrayed eyes, but it still chilled him. Like her speech, her eyes were almost startlingly human, perplexing and nauseating him.

"You're not even familiar with me." This time it was a whisper, and she turned and ran back into the forest before he could get over the combination of improbable injury and unexpected pity, if that was what it was. The night air was torn by a howl that sounded somewhere between a woman and a demon, like a cries for mercy and forgiveness from the gods.

He stood there, dizzy and dazed by the pain, removing the splinters one by one. But not because she had stopped him, he saved the one in his eye for last this time. Not for a monster, please.