Pit

“Huh?”

Nina was scarcely able to digest Bombon’s words on its own, much less paired with her nonchalant delivery. The demon? The woman? The demon woman skulked over to Viorel’s inert body. She watches him from across the points of her white boots, much like she was doing before she introduced herself.

“Didn’t you see him fly across the room? His head went straight to the wall.” She absently said as she flicked a stray lock of blonde hair from his forehead.

Bombon canted her neck to peer closer at his head, which was sporting no outside injuries. “I’m surprised it’s not leaking.”

Nina pressed her hands to her mouth, absolutely horrified of what she’s inadvertently caused.

“Oh no! What should I do?!” Scrambling around, she looked the very definition of a lost child.

“I need to call someone, a doctor— HUBERT!” Nina started towards the door, but in an eerie display of soundlessness, Bombon had crossed their wide distance in a mere second to place a hand on top of her head. The familiar gesture Viorel’s annoyingly notorious for feels vaguely threatening when she does it.

She guides her gently backwards by her head, turning it to make Nina face her. “The butler can’t see our little mess. You don’t want to give him nightmares do you?”

Nina peeked at the state of their ballroom from over Bombon’s shoulder. It looks like a hurricane of angry magicians whirled past.

She couldn’t even explain this to Jasper, her most trusted confidant, never-mind a member of the house staff.

Besides, the imploring stare Bombon directed at her was uncomfortably intense.

Nina swept back the freshly cut lock of hair by her cheek. “But what about my brother?” She glanced at Vi, becoming more anxious the longer he stays limp on the floor.

Her head was freed from strong fingers, whose owner smiled as wide as her cheeks would allow it (which was a bit too wide).

Bombon brushed off nonexistent dust from her shoulder pads, turning them to sparks of glitter that sparkled briskly before disappearing into thin air.

“Did you forget who I am?” She says with a mien of giddy pride on her hip-perched fist, which was very ill-assorted with their current predicament.

But Nina didn’t understand how being a party planner, however literally devilish she may be, could help with Viorel’s condition.

“Don’t— don’t you do parties?”

An offended frown made an appearance on Bombon’s features. What’s supposed to be a tutting glare could easily pass off as a death stare with how big and dark her eyes were.

‘’What am I, a clown?"

Bombon rolled her eyes in good spirit, once again approaching her unresponsive brother.

She turned him over to his back with her shoe.

Nina cautiously approached them as Bombon knelt beside Viorel’s head. Her hands rubbed quickly against one another, then she placed her right one inches above Viorel’s lips. The brunette thought for a moment that she was feeling for his breath.

But then her hand slowly swept upwards, over his nose, then eyes, never touching his face.

It stops over his hairline.

“Alright big guy, let's what's under that pretty face.”

There was a moment of silence that felt.. loud. Like she could heard a distance murmur if she’d focus.

Her hand abruptly sweeps back down.

Nina screams.

Instead of his face, there was a gaping hole.

Dark and seemingly empty, its edges a clean cut between Viorel’s warm beige skin and the unsightly cavity.

The bride-to-be had backed herself away on wobbly knees, nearly to the middle of the room.

“Relax.” Bombon cooly said, once again the face of insouciance in front of atrocious crimes against a human’s sanity.

Nina watched in alarmed anticipation as Bombon’s arm moved. Her hands once again went above Vi’s hollow… face pit.

Then she clapped once. The action simple, but the effects was felt by the entirety of the room; Nina’s chest tightened from the hold of an immense pressure, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as a shiver travelled along her covered arms, as if little prickly fingers were running in-between thick sleeves and her skin. Something unnatural was happening. Other than Vi’s faceless condition.

It was only when she tried clutching her wrists did she realise her hands were outlined with light. A glow was encasing the entire room in a violet, misty gleam, allowing her to be able to see every corner of the ballroom despite no lights being on and the candles have long since died out.

Nina looked behind her and saw the snuffed out candles glowing a bright purple from their wax stems, creating pillars of faint light.

The sound of heels clacking snapped her attention back to Bombon, who had stood up. Brushing off her hands as she did so. “There! That should fix him up.”

“W-what did you do?” She stammered.

Bombon curled her fingers into claws. “Magic.”

“I healed his head. He’s now unconscious, not in a coma.”

The demon lady motioned a hand to her brother, stepping away to give her space. Nina ran over and took up her previous place beside his head.

Thankfully, his face has returned. As much as she always quips her hatred for his smug expressions and annoying smiles, she never wanted to see that blonde head without a face ever again.

The young woman softly wiped a scuff of dust from his brows. Taking a closer look of his cheeks, they seem to have regained their healthy colour, his breathing going deeper than before.

“Just like that?”

“Of course. Head traumas are a piece of cake. Now if it was something to do with his heart,” Bombon hissed in contingent pity.

“Let’s just say it would be less painful to carve it out than to leave it in.”

Nina ignored whatever meaning her befuddled mind could conjure following Bombon’s cryptic statement when a movement caught her eyes.

Viorel shifted, his arms flinching, followed by his face, scrunching up in displeasure.

That sight alone was enough to calm her anxious stomach. Any live movements from her brother are dearly welcomed after what felt like hours with his comatose state.

He stirred; body turning to the side, facing their general direction. He then pushed himself into a sitting position, eyes still screwed shut but otherwise moving and looking like he normally is. He looked more hungover than recovering from a coma.

Nina noticed the brightly coloured being standing beside her, watching over her brother like some neon guardian.

She spoke to the taller demon woman sincerely. “Thank you.”

She seems pleased with the sentiment and in return gave her a sweet smile, the bottom of her eyes crinkled in vague amusement, but nonetheless good in nature.

“It’s a pleasure, sweetheart.”

Viorel levelled his breathing, his eyes inched open like a pair of creaky hangars, brown pupils hazy and unfocused.

Bombon nears him with a grin not unlike the grinch’s scheming, crooked smile. Except, instead of a green, matted pelt, she has sickly, lavender skin.

She squats between his knees.

The blonde’s eyes adjusted to his surroundings.

He could see remnants of purple gas, a similarly coloured light beamed far too bright from the middle of the room and the wispy legs of Nina’s culotte hung by his left.

Then his gaze widened in attention to the unfamiliar face right in front of his.

Bombon greeted him with a sweet smile.

‘’Hey there, pretty boy.”

Viorel screams.

Then he jumps away, only to have the back of his head connect with the edge of a table.

Only Nina’s gasp was heard when Viorel slumped down, head lolling to the side.
He had fainted.

Bombon sighed, standing up with crossed arms, possibly annoyed it was not the first time someone has screamed right at her face.

Nina felt his head, hissing when she found a bump forming where it had hit the table. “Maybe I should take him to his room.”

Bombon gestured towards the door as a wordless 'go ahead'.

The brunette grabbed her brother’s arm and pulled.

She must have used too much strength as he was yanked sideways and had his head land with a hard thump! on the very solid marble floor.

Nina winced, but continued stubbornly tugging on his arm even when his body barely makes a squeak against the glossy surface.

When had Viorel became this heavy?

She knew he was bigger than her, but she didn’t expect dragging him to feel like dragging a couch.

Then all at once, that weight disappeared and the woman had to regain her balance from the loss of resistance.

Bombon had easily picked him up. A hand under his knees and an arm around his back. The image was stamped inside Nina’s mind; her big brother, in both senses of the word, carried by a lithe demon woman with pointed ears and sharp teeth.

She gave her a bodacious wink, smiling cheekily as if enjoying her flabbergasted look. Bombon turned and used a foot to fan out her long, golden scarf trailing behind her.

“Hang on to my scarf, sweetie.” Nina did as she was told and wordlessly took the downy fabric into her hand, perfectly convinced that she knows what she’s doing and that a she should really just follow everything she says.

Bombon straightened up, her legs pulled closely together, then in a practiced move, she clicks the back of her heels into one another, the sound oddly deep and resonating.

Without warning, their surroundings shifted; gilded walls and painted ceilings blurred and bled into transparent objects in pinks and purples.

The air became cold and still for a few slightly worrying moments, until the sound of birdsong filled her ears.

When those amorphous shapes became more familiar, Nina realised the square in the corner is Viorel’s nightstand and the giant door emitting dusty light is his tall window.

Everything she saw happened only in the span of a single second.

That was why the next time she blinked, they were already in Viorel’s room, right in front of his bed.

Nina’s head spun, a certain feeling of whiplash had her rapidly blinking in the new environment.

If she had to guess, Bombon had teleported them there.

Bombon walks away but Nina barely paid attention to her, still in disbelieve that she was standing on hardwood floor where there was polished stone under her not a second ago. And she needn’t even move a muscle.

-------------------

The demon woman carelessly dropped the man on the bed, where he doesn’t so much as stir when his arm slipped off and hit the nightstand on its way to hanging limply over the edge.

She left her future client to regain her bearings, knowing first time teleporting could take a bit time to recover from.

Bombon was glad the human woman was too struck with awe to clench a nervous grip on her scarf. The last time that happened, her scarf ended up constricting around a man’s body and suffocating him to death.

Better not upset these two potential customers further (so soon).

Bombon studied Viorel Diamanté very closely.

It was no secret he was quite troubled, if the little boy with big, scared eyes she saw inside the black abyss on his face earlier in the ballroom hasn’t given it away. Nestled in the darkness, hidden away under a mask of a fine adult pretending his mind wasn’t actively trying to drag him under.

Curious, she reached out and placed her pointer in the middle of his forehead.

She closed her eyes.

And saw… a lot.

Nina’s eyes were boring holes to the back of her head.

She supposed she could make do with this.

“How much are you willing to give?” Bombon opened her eyes to blank scleras lacking any pupils, lucent but dark against their eerie fandango pink shade.

“Everything I have.”

Not everyone could easily give away everything they have, let alone for a good reason.

Most people aren’t known for their selflessness. Their self-centred desires are what drives them forward, helps them make their decisions, justifies their choices and allows them indulgences. It’s amazing to see the absolute mess the human being could become when faced with want. Rarely do they realise it themselves, but most people are selfish.

Nina Diamanté is one of those people.

She seems to think that everything she has is worth less than her own wants and desires. The asinine goals and juvenile dreams.

Bombon could accept that offer, twist it until it’s a deadly mistake carved upon a valley of misconstrued lies. She could take everything this girl has and leave her with nothing. Not a family to look forward to, nor a family to come back to.

Maybe she is kinder than most, or maybe she pities this girl whose desperation hungrily eats away her vision, because Bombon asks her to save herself with her words, reinforce them so that she may not shred them apart and force them back together to become a sword against her throat.

“Everything?”

“Yes. I have no need for money.” she persisted, albeit specifically.

Money does Bombon no good. Pieces of paper any hell-raiser can conjure. There are so many things a human has in their finite little existence that’s worth much more than that.

“I was thinking of something more… Valuable.” Bombon retracts her finger and brings back her pupils from behind her eyelids.

“Like what?”

Bombon allows her lips to stretch until they reached her temples, teeth long and sharp, a proper demonic smile only revealed to the unconscious man whose mind is filled with demons of his own.