When Asmodeus goes missing, Hell falls into chaos. His demons are uncontrollable. Inconsolable.
Three weeks after he goes missing, I'm called to retrieve a soul. I'm not sure what I'm walking into since I'm never the one called upon to take a soul;...
Everything around me was dark—pitch black. But every few moments, red would slice through my vision. Echoes of someone else's pain would reach me, washing over my cold skin. Burning me.
"Death, take me," that same voice whispered again.
I jerked awake, the urge to reap a soul pulsing through my veins. That voice continued pushing through my mind, sounding oddly like Asmodeus, though that didn't really make sense. I knew Asmodeus, but he was a loner. He preferred the company of his demons over the company of the rest of us who resided in Hell with him.
Growling, I rolled out of bed, my bare feet hitting the stone flooring beneath me. I quickly donned a pair of black jeans, a shirt in the same pitch-black shade of black, and my hoodie before shoving my feet into my boots.
I focused on the call of the soul, letting it wash through me before I quickly transported myself to where they were.
White walls surrounded me when I opened my eyes. The scent of chemicals, blood, and pure agony infiltrated my nostrils. almost choking me. The scent of pain and torment was potent, and my other form pulsed under my skin, begging to be freed.
Protect, it pushed through my mind. Avenge. Protect.
My gaze roamed the room, the scent of the blood driving my other half insane. Something was here; I just couldn't see it. Like it was glamoured from me to hide whatever it was.
I snarled, and my wings ripped from my back. A gurgling noise met my ears, and a hand wrapped around my boot. The glamour fell, and there, lying on the floor, was Asmodeus. His wings were laying mangled beside him, the leathery skin now brittle and cracking, already peeling away from the bone now that they were separated from their life source.
Asmodeus's fingers were broken and mangled, his throat torn open. Blood covered the floor, and now I could see that I was standing in a puddle of the dark, almost black liquid.
Protect! my other half roared inside my mind. My wings ripped from my back, shredding through my shirt and jacket.
"Leviathan?" I asked Asmodeus as I crouched in front of him. I could scent him now—just barely though. His spell to cover his tracks was a lot stronger than the one he'd used to try to hide Asmodeus from me.
He let his eyes meet mine, and that was answer enough. I curled my fingers around his torn throat. Blue light flashed from my palm and wrapped around his neck, slowly healing the skin until unblemished skin took the place of the mangled pieces that had remained of his neck.
"Take my soul," he begged me.
I shook my head. "No," I murmured. I carded my now-bloody fingers through his hair. "I'm taking you with me."
A tear ran down his cheek. "There's nothing left of me, Death."
A sad smile tilted my lips. "There's a lot more left of you than you realize," I soothed. After sliding my arms beneath him, I lifted his bulky body against my chest. Even though Asmodeus was still large, he'd lost a lot of his muscle mass in all the time he'd been gone. He was too light now, and it fucking broke something inside of me to see how horribly Leviathan had been treating him.
Asmodeus whined in pain as I cradled him to my chest. I brushed my lips to his temple, and a moment later, blue light wrapped around his head before disappearing, and he slumped in my arms, his thoughts silenced so he could rest and I could get him home.
From there, I would be able to heal him. But my only goal at the moment was just to get us the fuck out of here before Leviathan realized I'd come and trapped me here with him.
Granted, Beelzebub and Lucifer would rip Hell apart to find me, but after seeing what Leviathan had done to Asmodeus, I wanted no part of it. Not when I had to protect Asmodeus at the same time.
Imagining my home in my mind, I closed my eyes and allowed the pull of home to yank at me. When I opened my eyes, I was standing in my bedroom. Asmodeus was still blissfully asleep in my arms, not even the pain that'd been bothering him affecting him at the moment.
I laid him on the bed, taking in his injuries now that we were somewhere safe where Leviathan couldn't touch him again. He was covered in bruises, his body and mind battered to the point he couldn't heal them himself anymore.
Holding my hands together, I called on my healing powers, and blue light burst between my palms, swirling in a ball between my hands. I slowly pulled them apart before running my hands over Asmodeus's body, allowing my power to heal him. His bruises slowly disappeared, and his broken bones melded back together.
My throat tightened when I realized all I could do for his back where his wings were was to heal the gaping, bleeding wounds. There was no giving him his wings back or regrowing them.
One a fallen lost their wings, that was it. And though Asmodeus was created by the creator to rule over the demons, who were created to help Lucifer and Beelzebub manage the damned souls, he was considered a fallen.
It would take a miracle—and only a miracle granted by the creator himself—for Asmodeus to ever gain his wings back.
I brushed my lips to his forehead, and my other form rippled beneath my skin, weeping for him.
"I'm so sorry," I whispered.
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