Dead Moon Chapel

twelve

NOTHING HAPPENED. AND NOTHING SHOULD have happened. It was just a whisper, after all. It wasn't a real call. If Abel really wanted Jericho to show up, he would've said his name louder instead of mumbling it like a coward. That was all he'd ever be, anyways.

Abel held his pillow to his chest and rolled onto his side. He didn't think it was possible to sleep when he felt this way, but there was nothing left for him to do. He might as well close his eyes and try. And he did, for several agonizing minutes. Finally, he felt his mind giving in.

"You know, it would've been helpful if you stayed in the same place as last time."

Abel jumped up at the voice, turning and clutching the cross around his neck.

Jericho was leaning against his vanity, examining one of his long claws. He made a face at it, then turned his attention to Abel. "Oh, don't act all surprised. I wouldn't be here if you didn't call me."

Shit.

"It worked," Abel managed to say after several seconds too long. "Oh, no, it worked."

Jericho quirked a sharp brow. His brows were uniquely shaped, pointed at the arch, and dark enough that Abel could make them out against the rich scarlet of his skin even with his regular eyesight. "Did you not want it to work? Listen, I'm getting a lot of mixed signals here-"

"I summoned a demon." Abel's head spun. Of all of the sins, that was the worst. "Oh, if that doesn't tarnish my soul, I don't know what else will."

The demon was laughing. Abel had just committed the worst sin in the book right off the bat and he was laughing.

Abel threw his pillow at him. It missed. "What's so funny? Was this all part of your plan? Get me to summon you and immediately damn my soul to Hell when I do?"

"Relax," Jericho chuckled. "You didn't summon me, because I wasn't in Hell. Haven't been back home in a few years, actually. You just... invited me in. Which is a significantly lesser sin."

Abel let out a breath, but his heart didn't cease its thundering. This was still a more blatant show of disobedience than he was used to.

Jericho pushed off of the dresser, stepping closer to where Abel sat. He had to tilt his head all the way back to see his face.

At least he was wearing a shirt this time.

The demon leaned over and picked up the Bible that Abel had thrown to the floor. He studied the cover first, then flipped through the pages. He showed no signs of aversion to it, not even the slightest wince or a barely audible hiss as he touched it.

"What are you doing?" asked Abel.

Jericho stopped at a random place, skimming over the contents. "I'm looking for ideas."

"Ideas?"

"For sins," he said. "I think we should start off with something easy."

"You're from Hell, why do you need ideas?"

"I don't know what you guys think is easy, I've never gone to church."

Abel huffed and crossed his arms. "Well, think of something. I'll tell you if it's too far."

"Mm, what about that bit about the mixed fabrics?"

"We don't do that one anymore."

"Right. Abrahamic law, I remember."

Abel stitched his brow. Jericho didn't notice it.

"What about the consumption of alcohol?"

Abel gestured vaguely. "What alcohol do you think you're going to find in here?" The only alcohol in the Chapel was rubbing alcohol, reserved for medicinal purposes only. And communion wine, but that wasn't very strong, and he didn't want to bother tracking it down regardless.