The Devil Likes Lemon Cupcakes

The Devil And The Cold

                                             »I must get my soul

                                                  Back from you

                                              I am killing my flesh

                                                      Without it.«

                                                    Sylvia Plath

A thick darkness drowned the silhouettes in the room, leaving only their shadows. It was too cold, ghosts breathing all around me, kissing my skin with frostbites. It was painfully quiet.

A ghastly growl rang from the blackness, producing a deathlike voice. »The whore of Anguis,« It spoke. »the rotten flesh that lusts for the Fallen one. How I want to dig my claws in your skin, bite into your bones, pull you inside out and feast upon – «

»Silence, Agrafena!« He said to the gruesome creature I knew all too well. The Grigori. I couldn't see her, but I felt the presence of something demonic.

»Will you deny me the retribution I deserve?!« Another growl escaped her throat. Shadow turned into a shape. Grigori stepped out, into the dim light, pulling up the bottom of her coat. Her pale fingers curled around the black velvet and revealed a nasty wound on her right leg. The calf was almost thorn off, giant teeth marks sunk deep into the flesh, almost to the bone. Red strains of tissue and ripped out veins dragged behind her, creating bloody rivers. »That mutt of hers bit me!«

Layla! »What have you done to her?!« I screamed.

»Not enough.« Agrafena spat at me.

»Calm. Down.« He motioned to Grigori to back off. She returned to the shadows, piercing me with eyes of glass. They seemed like they bottled death inside. »I'm sorry for this, brazenly behaviour.« The man apologized. »Your Waneta is fine. Trust me, Agrafena got it much worse.«

»Why are you doing this?« I asked him as he stepped closer towards me. He was just the way I remembered him from our faint acquaintance, tall, elegant, and well-behaved. The only difference were his eyes. They reflected the light in the same manner Lucifer's do, but they did not favor the color of rubies, they mirrored the sky itself.

Air around him did not heat up as he closed in, but rather collected the bitter chill, crashing into me like a snow storm. »Who are you, really?« I asked the man that held Lena's hand the last time I saw him. The man who pressed his lips upon those of my dear friend.

»Miha,« He replied, nonchalantly. »Which is of course short for Mihael.«

Mihael, where have I heard that name before?

»I'm one of the Archs'.« His presence felt different than the last time, somehow...arrogant. Much like him. »I'm sorry, I forget that you are mortal,« He quietly laughed. »I'm an Archangel. Archangel Mihael.«

Of course, Luc did say that Grigori did not act on her own, that somebody was controlling her. Mihael.

»What do you want with me?« The rough bonds cut into my skin, creating scratches and bruises all over my arms and torso. I felt the pain of tears trying to resurface, I felt my terrified heart that spoke;

Luc

Luc

Luc

»What do I want with you?« Mihael arched a brow. »Don't you mean – what he wants with you?«