Sympathy for the Devil

28

The walk to Killian's room was silent. No thoughts rushing toward the center of my mind or his. Though, I'm sure he'd mask his thoughts from me if he did have a thought or two. "How will you survive high school at this rate?" Killian spoke once the door to his bedroom was shut.

I rubbed my arm aggressively. "It's better than living next door to a cryptic ass who is always hot and always cold."

"I'm glad you think I'm hot. I agree." Killian sprawled out lazily on his bed.

"That's not what I meant." I stammered on my words uneasily.

"Sure thing, Jellie Belly. I didn't hear you disagreeing, either." He tossed a blue and green Koosh ball back and forth from his wall to his hand. The wall drummed a steady beat each time the ball made contact.

"How come they looked like that- back at the cafeteria?"

"Like what?" Killian stopped tossing the ball as he sat up in his bed. The black sheets ruffled from the movement.

"So very vacant. Detached almost." I cringed. What does it take to turn into that? There were no boundaries and death was all that crossed their minds.

"Maybe they don't have anyone left to remind them of their humanity. Believe it or not, we are the lucky ones, Ellie." Killian speaking my name made his sentiments all the more effective.

"Why do the Gods want us dead?" I asked as I sat at the edge of the bed, as I mulled over what that little girl Hanna said.

"For the past decade, they have exploited their children in more creative ways than not. A war was declared nearly a decade ago. A war that cast the Gods in discourse. I don't know all of the gory details, but I know that they started killing their children for sport. Back when they were allowed to be in their children's lives. They knew that they would come back. The sick fucks. They knew the children, the demigods, would come back stronger with abilities of their own. The Gods were satisfied with this knowledge because there was strength in numbers. Most of the Gods and Goddesses procreated with numerous human males and females, only to kill their offspring when they turned a desirable age. You are one of the few who had a demigod parent grow up to procreate themselves. You truly don't understand how miraculous your being here is. Most of us were just born to die when we reached a ripened age. Fresh for the picking."

"Ankou wanted you dead?" I hesitated on the last word. Dead. I knew the effect it would have on him when spoken. His facial expression twisted into a scowl.

"Ankou isn't like the others. He was exploited, too. He wasn't allowed to reproduce. Nobody thought he would be able to. He used to be human. A king of Brittany. In some Breton French folklore, he was known as a servant. He would serve for a year, and then the servitude would be passed to another soul cast in death personified. But this Ankou made a fool of the Gods. He was forbidden to pass the curse to any other mortal. He did, however, pass on his curse to one other unlucky fuck. Me."

I rubbed his back as the letters from his shirt wrinkled at the movement.

"But I'm still one of the lucky ones. Most don't have friends to spend eternity with. I do. I have constant reminders of my humanity. It makes me less of a pawn in their fatal games. I long for the day when we get to be free from collecting souls of their children they wish death upon. Collecting a human's soul is far more melancholy. They don't come back from death. What happens to them is final. I've collected a fair share of human souls. The first human soul collected is the worst. I can't say it gets any easier."

"Did you collect my mom's soul?" I asked wondering why my mom wasn't here at all. She should have showed up by now.

Killian shook his head. "No. She wasn't my assignment."