Wingless

Chapter 1 [Lues' POV]

"I expect you back in a day or two," says Dad gruffly. "Don't you fail me. And do something big. We want something that will make a good tale about the fireplace to tell when we're discussing your initiation."

"My life is a tale about the fireplace? I'm not a Knight of Camelot," I say irritably.

"Son, you're not taking this seriously enough."

"Dad, it's really not that serious."

It isn't. I'll do this stupid task and carry on. It's not hard. Just don't get killed. Who's there to kill you anyway? Angels are too busy giving poor people bread and helping old ladies across the road, and humans are mindless drones doing chores that scatter like frightened rabbits when a demon walks down the street. I'll have no trouble. There's nothing to distract me. 

"This determines you being a demon!" Dad yells.

"Yeah, and the task is not being killed by a bunch of mortal humans eating vegetable mush every night for dinner," I snap. "What's the problem?"

Dad purses his lips. "Some young boys get distracted on there initiation, Lues. Make sure that isn't you."

"By what?"

"Earth. Mortal things, mortal ways ... mortal women. In humane form demons easily attract attention, Lues - don't respond to it. Okay?" He leaves. I remember the way he paused on mortal women and my eyes flash in anger. Does he think I'm an idiot? That I'd marry a weak, useless little slave, capable of nothing? You don't even get beautiful normal women ... at least I don't think so. I've never seen one. 

I'm going to get attention - from girls? I look in the mirror. I see a pale boy, with messy dark hair and solemn grey eyes, tight pale lips, folded arms. He's dressed in human clothes: a green sort of jersey with a hood and tight trousers that my father labelled as 'jeans'. Jeans? Mortals are ridiculous. And a pair of tight dark green shoes with laces to keep them on. I can't be bothered to tie them so they hang loose.

I'm obviously going to pass. I'm not freaked out. Then I'll marry and rule the Kingdom when my father dies - a few thousand years or so. 

Who will I marry though?

As if in answer to my question, Raven waltzes through the door. She's a third or fourth cousin or something, I don't really know, but she's got some royal blood and she's pretty hot. She flounces in, dressed in a black lacy dress showing a bit too much of her white chest - actually, no she's not. This isn't Heaven, it's Hell. We're bound to be a bit sinful, right?

"It's easy. I've got total faith in you, gorgeous," she winks. I grin.

See? Proof enough of what I'm saying. I am so ready for this.