Dead Moon Chapel

fourteen

THICK, BLACK CLOUDS OF HIS dreams subsided, giving way to the murky depths of a waking half-sleep. Abel drifted between the quiet solace of unconsciousness and the persistent pull of reality, balancing between the two until he was yanked to one side by a sudden searing pain in his skull.

"Shit," he whimpered, gripping at his head and rolling onto his side. He curled his knees to his chest, teeth gritting against the agony. The pillow muffled his grumbled prayer, a jumbled mess of pleas and words he never thought he'd ever say directly to God.

"It's that bad, huh?" came a voice. Abel didn't care to find out what direction it was coming from. "Got you cussing in the prayer and everything."

Abel felt around the bed for a spare pillow to throw blindly at Jericho. Judging by the soft grunt following a light thud, it would appear he was successful in hitting his target.

"Ouch." The demon sounded less than impressed. "I made you tea. I was hoping it'd help the hangover."

"'Hangover'?" he whined. "Ugh, what the fuck was I thinking?"

"I should've made you drink more water," Jericho mumbled. "I'm sorry I left you alone."

Abel turned onto his stomach, curling the pillow around his ears to dampen the demon's deep voice. "I deserved it, it's fine."

Jericho went quiet, then the bed dipped to one side under his weight. "Nobody deserves that. I was responsible for you last night and I failed. I'm sorry."

"My head hurts too much to listen to all this apologizing," Abel said. "I don't care about anything but getting rid of this shit."

"If you insist. I'll be back."

The following silence felt nice, even if it wasn't completely quiet. His blood rushed in his ears, his pulse pounding in his skull. Whatever he did the night before was not worth this suffering. He remembered little of what he did, anyways, all he could remember was his first drink. Everything after that was a blur.

Everything except for the eyes. He could feel them on him now.

The door opened, followed by the strong scent of herbs wafting through the room. Jericho's footsteps neared him, careful in an attempt to be silent.

"Sit up," the demon said. Her voice was higher and softer now, easier on Abel's ears than the masculine voice he was used to. There was a bizarrely motherly air about it. She helped Abel into a sitting position, then shoved something warm into his hands. "Drink this, you'll feel better in no time."

Accepting a drink from a demon was a terrible idea, but no fate could be worse than this searing headache. And so, Abel downed the tea in one go. It coated his throat in soothing warmth and he could feel it running down his body and into his stomach. The taste was bitter on his tongue. Thankfully, it didn't linger.

It worked like a miracle. Abel could stand to open his eyes by the time the drink was settled. Jericho had been sensible enough not to turn the light on, sparing him more pain. Sheer gray curtains dulled the glow of the city through the window, dimming whatever light crept its way inside.

"Are you sure that was just tea?"

"Never said that." Jericho winked at him, then handed him a bowl. "I hope you like cereal, that's all I have."

Abel's eyes couldn't settle between her or the bowl. "You live off of cereal?"

She studied the hands in her lap. "I live off of... uh. Well, I don't eat food to live. I just figured, in the rare event that I have a guest, I should have something. This is the easiest to get my hands on."