My Plus One: The Devil

Daddy

"So, what does Papa Satan look like? Does he have horns and a tail?"

"He can if he wants to, but prefers to go without."

"Is he what you would call your dad?" I continued questioning Tristan as we took a private passage to head to Satan's castle. Once we had left the witches house, Tristan rushed us away from the crowd that was curiously watching our interactions, and entered a building that apparently only higher-ups could use to navigate through the city of Hell.

Tristan looked up and scratched his chin, "I guess. He did raise me. So he is my father figure in that way."

"Do you call him Daddy?" I glanced at him quickly, attempting to antagonize him.

Tristan, knowing that I was trying to irritate him, looked at me with a devilish smirk. "No but that's what you're going to call me soon enough baby girl."

I blanched.

With a lazy yawn, Tristan stretched his arm and pulled me to his side. "Olive, you know you can't win in these banters we have. It's a cute try however, but unfortunately will only ever be a cute try."

I rolled my eyes and jabbed him with my elbow, letting me squirm from his hold.

"You're a real ass you know that"

"But I'm your ass, so it's okay."

I stuck my tongue out at him and turned to face forward again. Letting him put his arm around my shoulder and bring me to his side again.

"So is there anything I should know before meeting Satan?" I paused, processing what I said so casually.

I'm meeting Satan.

What.

.......

My mum must be so proud of me.

"I don't think there's anything I can say that will prepare you. Just be yourself."

"Reassuring."

He sent me a small smile. We continued to walk quietly, Tristan rubbing my shoulder with his thumb more out of his own nervous fidgeting rather than a deliberate comforting action.

As we began approaching a large door, soldiers were stationed outside of it. Demons that had large bull-like horns atop of their heads, and large tan muscles that had numerous scars from past conquests, all looked at us- or me specifically- accusingly.

I swallowed nervously as I felt their heavy eyes on me. I heard Tristan hiss, and looked up at him to see his sharp canines being exposed and his eyes flashing white.

The soldiers averted their gazes and I sent a small sigh of relief, grabbing onto the bottom of Tristan's shirt for comfort.

Feeling very small as the sound of my clumsy footsteps echoed next to Tristan's silent ones, we reached the extravagant door. The door was made out of a material so black that it looked like I was looking into the night sky. There were carvings on the door that with closer inspection had my blood run cold.

It seemed that there was a story being portrayed through the carvings, with the largest monstrous figure, presumably representing Satan himself, as he sat atop of decaying bodies that all had such tormented empty looks on their faces. The door only portrayed death and destruction and I felt my throat close up as I began to panic slightly.

The door was abruptly opened and Tristan gently ushered me forward. Glancing around, I was surprised to see a brightly lit room. There were golden chandeliers that hung from the ceiling, and as my eyes trailed towards the ceiling I gasped in awe at the beautifully painted black and golden dragons that decorated the ceiling.