The Struggles of Dating a Demon [Completed]

Recovery

Mabel hissed in pain when her knee slammed into the coffee table, her body screaming at her when she tried to jump away from the object; she tripped backwards and would have fallen on her butt if Aleron's arms hadn't caught her.

"Little One," he scolded, "I told you to wait for me!"

Mabel huffed loudly, feeling like a child stuck in timeout. "I know, Al, but I was so bored."

"Then call for me," he continued, plucking her up and leading her to the kitchen, where he set her down at the counter in front of the pizza he'd just returned from getting. "I was only away for five minutes."

"Five boring minutes," she retorted snootily, opening up the pizza box and snatching up a slice giddily.

Aleron snorted a chuckle, bending forward to press his lips against her brow before settling down next to her and watching her eat.

"Don' be creepy." Mabel chided through a mouth full of food, dabbing her fingers off on a napkin.

"I apologize, Little One," he didn't sound very apologetic, "but you are very adorable. How are you feeling?"

She inwardly rolled her eyes. As much as she cared for Aleron, he was taking her recovery to an entirely unnecessary level. He monitored her constantly, ensuring that she was comfortable, safe, and happy. As sweet as it was, she was tired of all the attention being focused on her.

"Can you tell me something?" she asked, leaning to the side gingerly so she didn't aggravate her ribs as she regarded him carefully.

Aleron's brows rose in confusion. "Of course, Little One—what do you want me to tell you?"

"Your brother, Blagdan . . . you never explained why he looks so different from you, or why he was trapped in 'the deepest pits' of Hell."

Aleron's face twisted into a scowl, though she knew it wasn't meant for her. "Blagdan . . ." he blew out an angry puff of air, and Mabel snatched up his hand, squeezing it comfortingly. "We were both intended to work alongside Death; it is the reason for which we were born. But Blagdan wanted more power than he was given and tried to usurp Death by killing him.

"It did not work, of course, and Death recognized Blagdan's soul as evil, thus banishing him to the deepest pits of Hell. That is where the truly wicked souls go—the devil, bastard though he be, is in charge of monitoring and punishing the souls sent there."

He ran his fingers over her knuckles, bringing her hand up to press gentle kisses against it, his gaze searching hers. "That is why I have been so worried, Little One. If Blagdan escaped, it means the devil is either not doing his duty, or something else is happening; I am not sure of which is worse."

Mabel nodded thoughtfully. "One more question: if the wicked souls are sent straight to the devil, why were all those humans near Blagdan's castle?"

Aleron seemed to mull over his next words, as though determining how best to say it so she wouldn't get concerned. "It is like your . . . 'purgatory,' I believe. Many humans do not have truly wicked souls. Those who do are sent straight to the devil for eternal punishment; those who are not entirely lost to darkness are sent to remain under Death's watch. They complete different tasks, depending on the level of their sins. It is my duty to monitor darkening souls on earth and determine how quickly they need to be sent to Hell, where Death can judge them for himself."

Mabel swallowed heavily, her mind flashing back to the many dead people she had seen on the news, their blue lips and vacant eyes haunting her. "I don't think I'd make it as a wicked soul—just the thought scares me." She shuddered involuntarily, and Aleron's lips quirked into a small smile.