Dangerous Desires (Book 2)

Alastor

"Give Angel over to me or God will hear of a fascinating little tale of one of his executioner's leaving Heaven and losing his wings."

My heart seems to sink like a stone with every step. Not an offer. An ultimatum. That disgusting cockroach knows Angel resides in Hell again. I'm uncertain how he knows, but he does.

"Let Angelcakes work for me again, and he can stay in Hell."

There's no stopping the bile this time from dribbling through my gritted teeth, dripping out of the corners of my mouth and down my chin like a dark stream of bubbling hatred. Hatred as black as my heart, burning ice cold like the soul smoldering in my chest, hidden behind layers of muscles, tissue, and fatty meat.

To Hell with that!

My plans may have to be moved around by this new... revataltion, but I refuse to hand my doe over to that behemoth. He is mine, just as I am his. Our vows and rings bind us together for eternity. Not even death itself could keep my Anthony from me.

For every snag we came across, we came back stronger. Our love more powerful. Nothing can sever the bond woven tightly around us, linking our hearts and souls as one.

It flourishes with every beat of my dead heart. Growing stronger still and becoming less taunt the closer I get towards my house. Because he is there. Anthony.

My Heaven.

Sure, Charlie spouts about redemption and ascending to the pearly gates above. In a way it's amusing. Not just because the idea itself is ludicrous, but because I know I will never be redeemed. I'll never want to either.

Angel is here. And if he is here, then my Heaven is too. For Heaven to me, is in his comforting embrace.

That is all I'll ever need. All I'll ever truly want.

"W-We wi-ll give you one week."

The truly happy smile on my face, becomes strained and stretches as I recall Vox's snide glitching warning.

Oh, how I wanted to dig my claws into that annoyingly bright flickering screen. Hear the delightful sound of glass cracking as I stabbed a blunt butter knife on the table, into his stomach, dragging it slowly downward until the wirey spools of his innards peeked through.

Unfortunately, the smug declaration the Overlord boasted, had me momentarily stunned. Nothing left my mouth at the time, except a harsh screech of static, like that of the sudden scritch of a record player.

As much as I want to give into my tantazling visual urges to tear off Valentino's wings and rip out that television's screen with my claws, I must hold off. Reconfigure another plan that melds with the one I've been working on for awhile now.

At least the sit down wasn't a total failure. I did manage to delve quickly through the moth's mind a bit as he bragged about how many sets he had set up for Angel. After the initial shock wore off, I caught glimpses of a passcode and a very interesting deed to the studio he owns. Something I skimmed over, but a new plan was beginning to delevop. Something absolutely sinister and will garuntee sheer, delightful, entertainment should everything go according to plan.

One week. That is more than enough time to carefully put the pieces of my plan together.

A small whimper snaps me from my thoughts, and I look up to see a goat demon hunched over what looks like a shrine. Red and pink roses litter the ground and candles sit around a silver picture frame.

When I draw closer, my heart slams into my throat and panic surges through me so fast, it leaves my mind reeling.

Angel.

In the picture, it shows Angel. But not as a doe. No. In his spider form. His false form that was thrust upon him from the very first moment he blackened his soul. That first touch of darkness, permanently changed him. Until our two souls merged into a beautiful mass of dark and light. Like yin and yang, our souls were meant to find each other.

Heart calming, I inhale deeply. These degenerates think Angeldust is dead. And in an odd sort of way, he is. Angeldust is gone, but Anthony remains.

Angeldust will remain dead, and I shall keep it that way. That pompous cad will have to pry my cold lifeless claws off cheri's beautiful body if he even hopes for a chance to take what is rightfully mine.

Whimpers and strange panting noises come from the demon, and I slow to a leisurely stroll as I pass. The poor sap completely unware of my presence.

Pants. Jerking motions. Whines.

It's not hard to figure out what he is doing. When I come to the conclusion myself, rage has me seeing red. A clawed hand snaps out to fist the dark greasy hair of the short burly goat man, and yanks viciously back until his body goes through a store window, shattering the glass and slamming with a thud against a wall inside.

Glass rains down around me as I lift my shoe, heel digging into the new hole provided for me to gain a proper foothold in the window.

Climbing up, I casually brush a few stray shards of glass from my shoulder, and glare down at the wounded goat with a smile of ill intent. A gleeful, dangerous, sharp smile that promises pain.

"You dare sully the memory of a beloved icon in such a distasteful way?" A static-laced feedback screeches harshly in the small space as shoppers frantically run about like chickens with their heads lobbed off.

Fear perfumes the air and I suck in a greedy breath. Wonderful.

"W-Why do you care?" The goat demon stammers, yellow eyes wide, tone trembling as he stares up at his certain demise.

"The chap was my Husband after all. You'd think his memory would be remain precious. Cherished." A hissing sigh escapes and I jump from the window, glass crunching under my heels as I land gracefully with a low menacing chuckle. "How did my beloved put it? Ah, yes. 'Don't go dirtyin' somethin' jus' fer da hell of it.'"

I chuckle in amusement at my own poor imitation of Angel, using a phrase he said when alive. I'm sure, had he witnessed me trying to pull off his accent right now, I'd never live it down. Not that I'd mind his teasing jabs or jesting at my expense.

"I'm sorry, I won't do it again. Please... let me..." His eyes bounce around the store frantically and settle on a red bag of sinful O's. He snatches it up and holds it up between us as if it's a barrier. "buy you... chips?"

Chuckles glitch into full fledged laughter at his weak attempt, radio tone growing as I advance. "No, I'm sure you won't. But I will take you up on your offer for food, my dear. It just so happens, my doe loves Mothers Jambalaya, and you simply must join us for dinner."

Purple skin pales as the color drains from his face at my not-so-subtle meaning.

"No! Please!"

His screams ring out and can be heard for miles as I gather the main ingredient with gusto.