Melody.

Lilith's Flashbacks: The Makeshift Son

Jaidon shoulders through the door, throwing his back on the bed and kicking the door shut. He slumps on the bed in the foster home, imagining several ways to kill every member of the household.

"Hello, Jaidon." Lilith sits on the white painted dresser.

He looks up. Taking in the young woman of maybe 20, wearing nothing but strips of red leather woven together and thigh-high heeled boots, he raises an eyebrow.

"Hey, there. Can I help?" He appraises the lady once more.

"Yes." She says, standing and morphing into her true self, with talons and snakes and her all-black eyes. "You can."

If he is surprised, he does not show it. Instead, he folds his arms and shifts his weight to his left foot, a trait she herself has.

"Well?" Is all he says.

"You're half a set of twins. You've been having dreams, of killing the young lady. Yes?"

"Indeed."

She smiles. "Excellent. Then it has begun. The young lady is in England, along with her sister. Kill them both, and I will make you my king. How would you like to be the Devil's consort?" She giggles, high and girlish. He watches her silently as she lessens in height, her skin turning tanned and glowing, body shape and facial features changing until she is breathtaking. She steps forward, taking Jaidon's tie and pulling him to her, where she presses her lips to the side of his neck, just underneath his ear.

Where her lips touch the underside of his jawline, it begins to sting. Jaidon jumps back, holding his hand to the hot, burning spot. He looks in the mirror, Lilith by his shoulder. Raw skin, blackened at the edges, in the shape of someone's lips.

The mark of Lilith. To fuel his evil deeds, and so she may always find him, wherever he may be.