Playing with Devils

Ten

Song: Cornfield Chase- Hans Zimmer

AN: Short chapter today but I promise I'll post either tomorrow or Saturday with another one. Ngl this shawty packs a punch tho 😮‍💨

The Shadow

A proper date. Another chance at doing things right.

That's all I needed.

These past weeks of enduring the pits and keeping an eye on things from the shadows, I had reflected. I had analyzed every critical error I had made with her and carefully curated a new strategy.

I didn't let my failure become a waste. It became a lesson of what not to do.

And as I stood before her in that dim bathroom, I could see my path to finding my way to that bloody dais in the very depths of her eyes. The part of me that wanted her, and only her, seemed to be overshadowed by my lust for power.

She was such a beautiful tragedy. A lovely calamity.

This time, I would let the witch come to me. I'd lure her close with a devastating lack of touch or feel. It would be as much a torture for me as it would be for her.

She was used to her lovers serving themselves up on silver platters. Me included. But not this time.

So when she reached upwards, feeling the edge of my mask, I gently took her hand and pulled it away. I kept my eyes on hers as I carefully brought my lips to the delicate tips of her fingers.

I kissed each one as if thanking each individual finger that had played a role in my care. I'd appease her need for soft tenderness. Still, I cursed this fucking mask for the way it kept my lips from feeling her warm skin.

It was like a muzzle that kept me and my desire for her in line. It tempered my need to strip her bare and ruin her for anyone else. But it was only a matter of time until I would be able to do exactly that.

For now, I'd play into her simple fantasies. I'd play the noble hero. I'd protect her. I always would, but where honor failed, my cutthroat nature would pick up where it left off.

"You should try to rest," I whispered against her fingertips.

She nodded slowly. "Okay. I'll try."

I could feel my wounds slowly start to mend beneath the bandages, allowing more smooth movements from my body as I directed her back towards the loft.

I watched her ascend the ladder, looking down at me from the top before disappearing behind the ledge.

I waited for a moment before disappearing into my room. I pulled the huge portrait of myself down from the wall, cursing to myself at pain in my shoulder. There behind the painting sat the door to my safe room.

No. That stupid fucking portrait was not my idea. Levi did it as a joke for a solstice gift.

Fucking prick.

And he made me look as douchey as absolutely possible. I looked like a goddamn trust fund kid who hadn't worked a day in his life.

But as much as the thing irked me to no end, I had never once thought about dumping gasoline on it and dropping a lighter. It had been the first painting he'd done after returning to the Seventh from his imprisonment.

So I let Sam and Des take turns coming up with very creative one-liners at my expense. And I mean creative as fuck. The term Sir Douchebag the third had to be banned after a few hundred years of constant use.

I went inside the room, unable to stop the slight laugh as I took one last glance at that dumbass portrait.

Inside lay Levi. Still as death. I sat down in my usual spot, listening to the steady beeping of the machine that ran his blood through a filter to rid it of any excess holy water they used on him.

I pulled off my mask with a sigh, shutting my eyes tiredly as I prepared to try and reach into his dimmed consciousness. I reached out, tugging on that fraying contract that bound us.

A promise. One that I had broken at the height of my pride and hubris.

Leviathan. Are you there?

No answer. Nothing. Just pitch black.

I'm sorry. I fucked up. Please come back.

Again. The silence was deafening.

I can't do this without you, Levi. You knew that even when I didn't. I was an arrogant prick and I shouldn't have forced you in there.

I would be here for hours, talking to the void that had once been my truest friend. I have come here every single agonizing day to draw something— anything— from him. Anything at all would do.

I didn't care if he cursed me. I didn't care if he attacked me. I deserved his hatred. I deserved every bit of wrath from him.

Anything would be better than this.

I was on the phone with no one on the other end.

She misses you. She doesn't have to say it. I just know she does. I can see it in her eyes. Coralynn misses you.

I had to keep my focus. There was more to say, but I could feel the stinging in my eyes. It was drawing my attention away from my grip on the contract.

If you don't come back for me, then come back for her, Levi.

I had to let go. I couldn't hold onto it any longer before my eyes snapped open and breath filled my heaving lungs.

I still was unused to the feel of tears running down my face. I knew I had to stop, but I just couldn't. They just kept coming.

***

I didn't remember laying my head down against the edge of the bed, but when I opened my eyes there was an odd sense of peace that filled the space around me.

I lifted my head, a groan escaping my throat as I did. I observed the room carefully. Nothing seemed out of place.

I looked down at Levi and there it was. His arm had moved. It had originally rested right next to his body, but now laid outstretched off the bed.

I didn't know what to make of it. I wasn't sure if I should just skip the skepticism and just jump to the overwhelming relief that something had finally changed.

I took his hand, observing the way his fingers had slowly become less disfigured, and squeezed gently. I knew it was stupid to think I could invoke some kind of response, but I had to try.

I had to do something.

"Levi," I swallowed. "Can you hear me?"

I held his hand palm up and began tracing the image of a star over his bandages. I kept retracing the pattern over and over. I did this for several minutes feeling the texture of the bandages with my index finger.

Then, his finger twitched. Then twitched again.

"Hey," I laughed quietly, encasing his hand carefully with my own. "There you are."

His eyes remained closed, but there was a shift in him. I could feel how the contract strengthened, if only just the slightest bit.

His finger began tapping against the back of my hand. Once. Twice. Four more times. All in an odd rhythm. I laughed again, the relief that he was still in there and hearing me was enough.

But then I was struck with something familiar. Then my eyes widened when I realized.

He was communicating. He was using Morse code to reach me.

He kept doing the same pattern and I began to work it out in my head. As it slowly came together, my blood began to chill as I spoke the message softly to myself.

D O  N O T  T R U S T  H E R.