Lovers & Devils [BxB]

Mammon

     October sixteenth. Day one.

Today was a bit warmer. The sun was up, behind its stallions of white but who knew if soon it would go doze on its ultraviolet throne. I inched through the gap between parked cars, their grooved tyres swerved and studying me. I heard the tyres rolling as the driver reversed, speeding down the fenced and tree-lined drive-in. I staggered round the side of the cream-yellow apartment block with brown-bordered windows and to the running-bond path. It lead to the tall black door. I wasn't sure if I was moving so slowly because I was jaded, or because I didn't want to meet the demon. I had a temptation to just run, but my self-control proved potent.
I keyed in the passcode on the lit number pad beside the door. It clicked, and I opened the door.
I recoiled at the toothpaste-white tiles of the apartment, the glass balustrades on the stairs—it felt like a hospital for the insane, and I was probably going to be a patient. Excited overhead lights haunted me as I crept up the stairs in my uncreasing white runners. I gripped my scratchy shoulder strap. It felt odd carrying a bag like a regular human, but I liked having it on because it acted as a substitute for my wings—weight wise.
     I reeled in the mint notebook from my black half-zip pocket and began to read over the rushed notes silently.
      Muffled music made my ears perk and I raised my head. God, don't let it be four. I scanned the nailed metal numbers. Six. No. Five. It wasn't coming from five. Four. Dammit. I passed the closed elevator and glass railing. It was just morning! Who played music so loud, especially with how thin apartment walls were. I strode towards the nutty-brown door like an angry neighbour before banging on it.
No answer.
I banged on it again, but this time, the volume decreased and heavy steps approached the door. I sighed out the nerves.
The door opened like it was kicked in, and ended with a loud thud. A tall man stood in front of me, strong jaw clenched and his hand gripping the door hinge hard, as though trying to leave a print. He had on a thin white shirt, so thin I could make out the tattooed branches crawling down his left pec and bold roman numerals on his right. And was that a mosquito on his stomach? I crinkled my nose, and his one pierced ear with two silver rings sniggered.

"The fuck you want?" Malice dribbled from his rough voice. I stood still, pokerfaced as I stared at him—I didn't why I thought about that mysterious boy near the apple tree.

Tip one: don't be overly nice.

      "I'm Lukas. I'm your new guardian angel..."

He smacked his palm against his forehead, groaning loud and dramatic. "Devil's sake! I've had at least ten of you bastards! Why won't ye give up!"

His eyes raked me up and down disapprovingly. "Could've at least given me a pretty bitch like...Elizabeth."

I gritted my teeth and curled my nose. The anger was suffocating—how could he just objectify her like that? She died because of him, and he didn't even remember her name.

Mammon caught on and I hated myself for it. He bent down, his face level with mine as he smirked. "What's the matter, puppy? Did I hit a precious nerve, hum?"

I grimaced at the nickname. "Her name is Elise."

     "You knew the bitch? What, was she your little angel girlfriend?"

Tip two: don't take his words to core.

"She was my friend."

     "Yeah," the raven-haired grunted. "Was."

I widened my eyes, rooted to my spot. I didn't know what to say, or do. I knew demons were cruel, but after spending so much time with her, I expected him to have some ounce of remorse.