Author's Note: I wanted to take a break after Match, rest a little bit and then get on my next story nice and fresh. But this idea swooped down on me and wouldn't let go until I sat down to write it.

As I have envisaged it, this is going to be a 4-5 chapter story, the chapters being an average 6-7k words each.

Usual disclaimer: I don't own the Teen Titans. I only own my OCs. And the plot, I guess.


Fallen Demon

The place could not be described in concepts understandable by humans. The closest approximation would be a swirling cloud of colors. Not only the seven basic ones and their combinations, that humans could see, understand and name, but many others also; colors such that no human mind even had a concept of their existence, let alone a word to describe them.

There were no distances and no dimensions. Close or far, up or down, left or right; those ideas were completely inapplicable to this place. Time flowed as easily from consequence to cause as from cause to consequence, or it slowed and stopped, then sped up and suddenly turned around, as the necessity of the inhabitants molded it to their own will.

The two entities that were exchanging ideas did so in a way incomprehensible to mortal minds, but a rough interpretation could be made of their interaction. For lack of a better way of identifying them, they will be labeled as Red and Blue.

You have come again, Blue commented, sensing Red and establishing contact.

I do not belong with my brethren, Red replied.

You do not belong with us, either.

Then what is there for me? Why is everything made in such a way?

Because we were made so. We do not question.

Neither do my siblings. But I do! Why was I made so I do not belong? Am I a plaything?

Blue darkened, its emotion best approximated to a mortal mind as anger.

We do not question! Blue communicated emphatically. And believing you are something extraordinary may just show that you think more of yourself than what you really are.

No. In this you are wrong. I have questioned my existence ever since I was created. I know.

Blue darkened even more, purple sparks coursing through it.

It is so typical of a demon not to know its place. I have suffered your insolence enough. Begone.

Red's color darkened in response.

And it is so typical of an angel to be patronizing.

Time flowed on, then flowed back. Blue's color returned to a lighter shade.

You had aroused my curiosity and I had decided to listen to you. But I cannot help you with your request. You are what you are. It defines you, as much as you may not wish it to be so. It cannot be changed. There is only one thing that can be done.

Red's color deepened, sparks lighting up through him, just to extinguish into dark embers.

I had hoped there was another way.

Stripes of bright colors ran through Blue.

Maybe you will learn to belong there. Maybe you will find your answers there.

Red flashed bright crimson, the decision reached. His color returned to normal.

So be it.

Red disappeared, not leaving, not going away, but simply ceasing to exist in that place. Blue darkened; not in anger, but in sorrow.

There is always hope, brother.


Beltheniel. That is my name here.

He rose from the pavement in the filthy alley where he appeared. Garbage and refuse was strewn around, the rejects that Humanity was so good at creating.

They will drown in their own filth soon, he thought. And yet

He felt strange, bound in a mortal body, constrained by mortal senses, his awareness limited only to what he could see, hear, smell or taste. Gravity pulled him to the ground relentlessly. He frowned and released a small part of his power. His feet left the ground, floating an inch above the wet pavement.

The sensation was pleasant, but he forced himself to release the levitation and land softly on the pavement again. He knew that he should not reveal his powers. Humans were easy to spook and their reaction was always unpredictable. If they banded together against him, they could destroy him. Coming here of his own free will meant he was mortal; while his powers would always be a part of himself, his mortality was an unescapable consequence of his Choice.

He tested the body he had, flexing his arms and legs, clenching his fists, bending and unbending. Still not completely used to it, he walked unsteadily to the mouth of the alley, avoiding the garbage bags and piles of discarded refuse.

As he walked, he tripped and almost fell down, only quick reflexes saving him from smashing his face into the pavement. At least this body appears to be in peak condition for a human, he mused. He turned around to see what had tripped him. Two extended legs were slowly retreating, folding into a large cardboard box. He peered inside.

"Hey, bro, how 'bout you spare a buck?"

A scruffy looking human, with not much life and no health whatsoever left in him. Beltheniel extended an invisible tendril of his power to explore the human's soul, then retreated it quickly in disgust. The soul was cold, soiled and ossified by loneliness; abandoned by all, including its owner, who was too concerned with the demands of his body – demands for whatever substance he was addicted to, to the extent that any other consideration was pushed away.

Fighting his disgust, he extended the questing tendril again and saw the mark of a lesser demon on the human's soul. He scowled, knowing it for a favorite ploy – appear to give the mortal what he wants, then turn around and make him suffer.

Hating the cruel games of his kind, he quickly reviewed his options. He could not heal the human. That power was beyond him. He could replace the mark on the human's soul with his own, thus challenging the other demon, but that was a bad idea. He was never powerful. His own weakness in a world where only raw power was respected was what made him question his existence in the first place.

He shook his head. The human made his choice; both he and his soul would have to suffer the consequences. He turned to go, then something made him stop. He placed his hand inside the inner pocket of the leather jacket he was wearing and it came out with a wallet. It was thick, stuffed with banknotes of several denominations. Not certain yet of the value of the banknotes, he selected one with the smallest number he could find and gave it to the human.

"Here, knock yourself out!"

"A… a hundred bucks? You kiddin' me, bro? I ain't one for kiddin'!"

He frowned, his fist clenching around the banknote. "I'm not used to mort – people rejecting my offers" he said in a dangerous voice.

The scruffy looking man extended a shaking hand and grabbed the banknote. Beltheniel released it and it quickly disappeared under the filthy coat.

"Thank you, bro, thank you a thousand times –"

"Shut up!" Beltheniel growled, the man's whiny thanks grating on his nerves. He straightened up and walked onto the main street, followed by the thanking and apologizing coming from the whimpering beggar.

I have just murdered him. He will only use it to get more of whatever poison is killing him. He will probably be dead by tomorrow morning.

The thought gave him neither satisfaction nor remorse. He shrugged his shoulders and walked away.


Beltheniel observed his reflection in the store window, pretending to study the merchandise on display. He appeared young, in human terms somewhere around eighteen years old. That meant some sixty years of this existence left, unless cut short by accident, disease or malice. What can they do in such a short time? Why can't we do something worthwhile with the millennia that are allotted to us?

He sighed, pushing the questions from his mind, returning to the study of himself. Closely cropped, dark brown hair; eyes so dark they almost appear black and a swarthy complexion. Tall, muscular body with wide shoulders and graceful movements. A perfectly straight, horizontal scar in the middle of his forehead.

So, I have brought some of my characteristics with me. He smiled grimly. There was no escaping what he was.

His fists clenched. No! I will be what I make of myself, not what I've been made to be!

He turned and walked away from the shop window, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his head bent. After a few blocks of aimless walking his mind calmed down. I have to find a place to stay, he thought. The needs of the mortal body must be attended to.

As that thought passed through his mind, he became aware of an unpleasant sensation in his belly, followed by a rumbling, gurgling sound. He was hungry.

He walked down the street, soon finding a place where he could buy a hamburger and a soda. He ate it all without thinking about taste or quantity. The only thing he was concerned with was the reduction of the unpleasant feeling in his gut. Having achieved that, he continued his aimless wandering through the streets of the city.

He knew a lot about mortals and their world, their customs and social interactions. It was required knowledge for any demon; and being one whose only claim to fame was having a sharp, inquiring mind, he probably knew more about them than most of his siblings.

He acquired a newspaper and started looking for rooms for rent. He started his search.

Soon he found what he considered an acceptable solution. The room was small but had a microwave and a tiny fridge. The bathroom was also small, but it was his; he wouldn't have to share it. Most importantly, it was separated from the rest of the house and had its own entrance. He paid for three months in advance, the landlord happy to be paid in cash.

He laid down on the bed, thinking about what to do next. Money, that mortals valued so highly, was not an issue. He could use his power to replicate any bill as many times as he wanted. That left him free to pursue his quest and find his answers.

Who am I? Why am I here?

Night fell. It was a good time to get to know the city. He rose from his bed, still fully clothed, and left the room. A warding spell on the door made it glow red for a brief instant, giving him much greater security than any lock or key.

His dark clothing helped him blend into the gloom. As night fell, he risked it and called on his power, floating quickly up, above the levels of the streetlights. This made him virtually invisible from below. He floated over the streets, taking in the sights. He flew ever up, until the entire city shone like a multifaceted jewel under him.

He floated down, noticing a brightly lit square. A magnificent cathedral stood proudly in the center of the square. He floated closer, admiring its architecture, the towers reaching up to the Heavens, the solid foundations keeping everything firmly planted in the Earth.

They can make such beauty.

He flew even closer, making sure he was not visible from the ground. He alighted on a frieze, beside a stone gargoyle leering down at the square. He sat on the frieze and relaxed. The gargoyle turned its head towards him, its leer now dangerous.

You should not be here.

"I have no hostile intentions. I am just enjoying the view."

I know. We would have attacked you already if it were otherwise. But you should not be here.

"I just want to –"

This is not a place for your kind. Go.

"Very well" he said and flew away. He grinned to himself. While his curt dismissal was to be expected, he was actually amazed that the gargoyle spoke to him. The ancient defenders of the cathedral did not usually waste their time talking to interlopers.

He continued his flight, without any specific aim in his mind. He heard an explosion. Mildly interested, he turned and flitted towards the sound.

A building – a museum? The large doors were blasted open, a man stepping through them, dressed in a ludicrous black costume, carrying a sack slung over his back. He had a short beard and a frightened air about him. His eyes darted around, seeking, fearing.

Beltheniel landed in an alley, far from prying eyes, and walked over towards the museum entrance. People were running away from the black-clad villain, but Beltheniel couldn't see any reason to fear the absurdly dressed man with the idiotic beard. His curiosity piqued, he walked ever closer.

"Hold!" The man cried as he saw Beltheniel, his voice shrill, complementing the fear in his eyes. Who – or what – does he fear?

"Nobody can stop Doctor Light!" the man proclaimed pompously, eliciting a sarcastic grin on Beltheniel's face as he continued to approach. Beltheniel had no intention of doing anything, he was just curious. But the man seemed frightened out of his wits. He saw Beltheniel's grin and the fear made him react.

"You are not one of them! I can take you! Doctor Light is invincible!"

He launched a light bolt at Beltheniel. The bolt struck the mortal demon, tossing him back and slamming him onto the pavement. Doctor Light cackled, certain now of his victory. Beltheniel rose from the ground painfully, his anger mounting. Stupid mortal! How dares he? He pulled himself together, realizing that revealing himself would be catastrophic. This fight he could do without. He turned and started limping away.

"No one escapes Doctor Light!" he heard. He whipped around, creating a red shield with a wave of his hand. The light bolt struck it and the shield dissolved, its job done, but the power of the strike threw Beltheniel to the pavement again. His anger turning into rage, he rose again, facing the strangely dressed man.

"Leave me!" he ordered as the scar on his forehead opened and an eye appeared, rimmed in black fire, golden in color, the pupil slitted like a cat's. The eye looked at Doctor Light, and Doctor Light looked into the eye.

"Darkness… Darkness! No! Not again, the darkness!"

Light turned to run, his hand still clutching at the sack over his back. Beltheniel moved to melt into the shadows and leave, hoping nobody saw what he did. He glanced behind him and stopped.

Five figures appeared in front of the unfortunate Doctor Light. He skidded to a halt, dropping to his knees, the sack with loot forgotten. He stared with bulging eyes at one of the newly arrived figures, a slim female wrapped in a blue cloak, a hood obscuring her face.

"No! Please, not the darkness! Away, just keep it away! Please…"

He whimpered, turning his body away from her, his arms folded protectively over his head, terror overcoming him.

"Stand down, Rae!"

"I didn't do anything."

"Why is he so afraid?"

"Hey, momma, he sure remembers last time, doesn't he?"

She turned to the small green youth that just said the words and spoke slowly to him. "I didn't do anything, Beast Boy!"

"Yeah, tell that to him!"

Beltheniel stared intently at the blue-cloaked girl. There was something… familiar about her. He sent an invisible, questing tendril of his power to look at her soul. The tendril touched, sensed, recoiled. Beltheniel's mind was shocked, trying to sort out what he just felt.

She sensed his probing, whirling around and floating quickly towards him, her arms wide, black mist gathering around her hands, her mouth whispering words of power. But Beltheniel could not move or speak, still in a state of shock after feeling her soul, trying to understand, unravel, comprehend.

"Who are you? What are you?" she demanded as she floated closer.

Beltheniel's mind shook off the daze slowly. He looked at her violet eyes, glowing under her hood, and gave her a wan smile.

"Greetings, sister."

Her eyes widened as she recognized what he was, a white flame kindling in them. "I am not your sister. I have renounced your kind. Go back where you came from, or I will send you there!"

His mind was almost fully recovered now. He pushed his awe and amazement down, realizing now was not the time to dwell on it.

"Not sister by birth, but sister by kind. You are the same as I."

He studied her with more care, extending another tendril of power to inspect her fully.

"I see now. I apologize. It is half-sister. There are not many such around. I never expected to meet one of you."

"Azarath Metrion Zinthos!" she intoned, eliciting a pained frown from Beltheniel. The name of Azarath was not something a demon was comfortable hearing, especially when followed by words of power. An invisible wall severed the tendril and cut off his connection with her.

"Do not call me that!" she hissed through clenched teeth. "I am not one of you, in whole or in part!"

Beltheniel kept his hands slightly away from his body, palms forward, in a posture indicating peaceful intentions. One of the few clear things he saw in her soul was that she would not attack if he did not offer violence.

"Half of your soul is" he said. "You know that as well as I do. Why run away from it?"

The white fire in her eyes winked out. "There is nothing to run away from. I am who I am, and not what you may want – or what He made me be."

His mind recoiled from her words as he gasped, a million unconnected thoughts suddenly unchained. Only a few hours on the mortal plane, and already his search may be over, his questions answered. She did it, he knew. She challenged and conquered. She defined herself by her own will. She could show him, teach him. His mind was awhirl, the thoughts chasing each other inside his head, confusing him. Perversely, of all the myriad questions he had, he mouthed the least relevant one.

"He? Who is He?"

She studied him carefully, then suddenly stepped up towards him, taking his head in her hands. She stood like that for a second and then jerked back, her breath hissing in.

"You… are mortal? You are a demon… but you are not!"

"I have made a Choice" he whispered.

Her eyes went wide. "That is a legend, even amongst demonkin! Do not lie to me!"

"I am not lying to you. I made a Choice and I appeared on this plane a few hours ago. I have questions. You have answers. Please, help me!"

The girl's companions approached, having secured the black-clad villain. Their apparent leader, dressed in a colorful costume, spoke as he stopped near them.

"Raven, is everything all right? Who is this guy?"

"Raven? Is that your name?"

She just stared at him, not answering either of them.

"I am Beltheniel. At least among mortals."

"I don't care. Go away!" she told him finally. "I am through with you. Done with your kind! Leave me alone!" she cried. Transforming into a ghostly black bird, she flew away.

"Raven! Wait! You must help me!" he shouted after her, trying to follow, when a strong hand clasped over his forearm, not allowing him to pursue her.

"Not so fast, buddy. We have some questions for you."

"And I have questions for her!" Beltheniel snarled, losing control. His voice became a growl, his third eye opened, his teeth lengthened and sharpened.

Raven's friends stepped back, alert but unafraid. Beltheniel pulled himself together and reversed the transformation.

"I have no quarrel with you. I must find her, talk to her. She knows. She can help me, teach me!"

"Help you how? Teach you what? Who are you? Where do you come from?"

"I don't have time for this!" Beltheniel snapped, jerking his hand away from the grip, flying back and up. "I must find her!"

He zoomed away, letting his power explode from him in a thousand feelers, each questing, searching, probing. He had to find her. She had to help him.

The feelers came back empty, just to be sent out again in a desperate attempt to locate her. He flew around the city, blind now for all of its charms, both beautiful and dark, focused only on his all-consuming need. After several fruitless hours, he finally conceded defeat and landed, exhausted, before the entrance to his room.


The librarian lifted her eyebrow at the selection of books he submitted.

"Researching demonology?" she said with a smirk.

"Comparative mythology. I am majoring in anthropology."

"For a minute there I thought you were a whacko" she said, her smirk turning into a smile. "I'll get you these, but I'll have to look for some of them downstairs. Sit down and wait a few minutes."

She returned promptly, pushing a cart laden with heavy tomes. "I can tell this is for serious research, not just plugging holes in a newspaper story" she said.

"Yes? And why is that?" he replied, looking at her with interest. She was biologically about his age or slightly older, and quite good looking.

"The publishers are well-known, serious houses" she replied. "Not your usual paranormal crap that people request daily. Also, I never heard of the authors, which means they're not much in the public eye. Of all the books, The Golden Bough is the only one I recognize."

He grinned at her, aware of yet another need that the mortal body required satisfying. "Do you have any interest in these things?" he asked.

"Just in passing" she smiled at him.

"Maybe we could get together, you know, if you need me to show you anything…"

Her smile widened slightly. "That sounds awfully like asking me out on a date."

"Maybe because it is" he said, his lips curling ever so slightly up.

"I get off at six" she said. "Do you mind if I go like this?"

"I don't mind as long as you don't mind me going like this!"

"You'll do" she laughed.

"Then I'll finish by six, and we can go together."

"You got a deal, mister!"

He finished most of his research by six o'clock, all important information written down in a notebook he was carrying.

"So, what's your name?" she asked as they walked out of the library, her arm wrapped around his.

"Bel" he said, giving the name that was in the personal documents he carried. "Bel Theniel."

"Ooh. An exotic name. I'm just Sue."

"Pleased to meet you, Just Sue" he said, grinning at her.

She laughed, a pleasant, tinkling sound. "Funny one, aren't you?"

He smiled, aware of the comfortable tension he felt inside. I could use some unwinding, he thought.

They strolled for a while. "Do we have any destination planned?" he asked her.

"I'm fine. If you're getting tired, we could sit and have a coffee."

"Not tired, but the coffee is a good idea."

They sat down, talking about inconsequential things, when she finally broached the subject.

"So. Demons."

"Yes, demons. What do you want to know?"

"Well, where they come from, how they live, what they do… Everything and anything!"

He chuckled. "It would depend whose mythology you study. Most folklore will have a different definition of demons, what they do, their motivations and so on."

"Is there anything they agree on?"

"Of course. First, all lore agrees they are not from the Earth – not space aliens, of course, rather from a different plane of existence. Also, most lore will state that demons have common heritage with their polar opposites."

"Opposites? You mean angels?"

"Yes. Demons are fallen angels according to Jewish myth, which was later picked up by Christianity and Islam. But it goes deeper than that. Older lore will usually relate demons with fertility rites; which is why they are usually depicted with exaggerated male or female sexual organs."

"Spirits of Nature, of the land?"

"Actually, their opposites" he said with a chuckle. "Remember that they're not from our world. But they share an ancestry; they were created from the same stuff as the Gods, the angels, the spirits and souls. In ancient rites, they would fertilize Mother Nature who in turn gave out her bounty. Ancient Greeks made human sacrifices in order for crops to grow; the King would be torn apart by horses over the first plowed line. The Aztecs and the Mayas sacrificed prisoners by ripping out their still-beating hearts; many other peoples also had some pretty nasty rituals, quite demonic by today's standards."

"So they are not necessarily evil?"

"Mostly they are agents of chaos and destruction. This sounds pretty evil, but the point is that you can't have creation without destruction, life without death, light without shadow. They are the darkness necessary for us to be able to see the stars and the chill that makes the hearth fire so welcoming."

"You're a poet" she said, placing her hand over his. "Your eyes shine when you talk about it."

He smiled, slightly abashed. "It's one of my favorite topics."

She looked at him for a moment and then said, her mind made up. "Let's go, my place is just around the corner."

In her apartment, they sat and talked for a while. He put his arm around her, bringing her closer. She put her head on his shoulder, her hand on his chest, and shuddered, suddenly shy.

"What is it?" he asked gently.

"I'm not usually so straightforward. You're ringing my bell for some reason. It is a bit strange to me."

He kissed the top of her head. "Do you want me to leave?"

She shook her head. "No, not that. It's just… something in you calls me, and I feel… peculiar."

He looked at her soul and was pleased and surprised at what he saw. Pleased, because she was caring, joyful, loving. Surprised, because she was a natural medium. Her life in a technological society made her ignore the power of her soul. Untrained and neglected, her power could only manifest itself through such feelings as she had now.

He lowered his head to hers and kissed her gently. She responded with urgency, but he would not be hurried.

"We have all the time in the world" he whispered.


She slept, her head pillowed on his shoulder, her arm thrown across his chest. He smiled to himself. He had given her pleasure she didn't know existed. Almost a millennium of living amongst succubi and incubi had made him pick up a few tricks here and there.

It felt good to give pleasure through gentleness. But she derived pleasure also from pain, he thought, looking at the bite marks he left on her throat, knowing there were more on her breasts and her thighs. So what was right? Pain or pleasure? Were they both the opposite facets of a single sensation?

The questions threatened to unleash an avalanche of further doubts and he knew he could not bear to think about it now. He forced it all down, willing himself to enjoy the moment, allowing the warmth of her body to fill him with joy.

A part of him rebelled against it, seeking other types of pleasure, long denied. To slash, gnaw and rip; to feel warm blood trickle down his mouth and face, to sense her life ebbing away, her soul shriek as he possessed it.

Which one was right? Which one was him?

He sighed and dismissed it all away. For now, he was content. What the future will bring was unknown on this plane.


She desperately tried to calm down, but she was unable to concentrate and focus. Floating a foot off the floor in lotus position, she chanted her mantra, trying to bring some semblance of calm to her shattered thoughts.

There was a knock on the door.

Just what I needed.

Sighing in exasperation, she stretched her legs to the floor, canceling the levitation. She walked to the door and opened it just a crack.

"Are you all right? Who was that guy?"

"It's nothing. If you don't mind, I need to meditate."

"Raven, please. We are your friends! We are concerned for you!"

"There is nothing you can do. Please leave me alone." She made to close the door, but he forced it back open.

"Rae, for better or worse we share a bond. I can feel that it's ripping you apart. I want to help you!"

Her gaze dropped. "I know" she whispered. "But there is nothing you or anyone else can do. This is my problem, and I have to solve it myself. Alone." As she spoke the last words, she looked up at him, her gaze defying him.

"No" he said firmly. "I will not accept that any more. I care – we all care for you too much to let you go back to what you were."

She could feel his love, his friendship and his concern for her radiating from him. It almost overwhelmed her. She closed her eyes for a moment, sighed and opened the door wide.

"Very well. Come in."

He walked in, sat on a chair facing her. "What happened?"

She looked at the wall, eyes unfocused, deciding how best to begin.

"Do you remember that Doctor Light was scared out of his mind when we arrived?"

He nodded. "I thought that you frightened him again, but you said you didn't do anything."

"I didn't. He was scared by that guy."

"I see. You know, when you left, he started transforming into… something. He had a third eye."

She nodded. "He is not human. He is a demon, and yet he is not."

"A demon? Was he sent by your father?"

Her eyes blazed. "Do not call him that!"

"Sorry. Did Trigon send him?"

"No. I am certain of that. I sensed him, and it shook me. He is a demon, but he has shed his demon visage and became mortal. It is something that is called the Choice."

"Choice?"

"Yes. That is the strange thing. The Choice is practically a legend. According to lore, the last time any demon made it was over two thousand years ago. Everything about it is obscure, because it is a very rare thing."

"What is it?"

"Putting it very simply, when a demon does not wish to be a demon any more, it is his only way out. He is transformed into a mortal, lives his days as a mortal, and when he dies he is tried and judged according to his actions as a mortal."

"Are you telling me that we have a 'good' demon on our hands?"

She scowled at him, suddenly angry. "There is no such thing! Demons are evil, twisted, perverted! They only find joy in destruction and death!"

He scowled back. "Take a deep breath and think on what you said" he told her evenly.

She was about to reply heatedly, but then she thought better of it. She smiled.

"Thank you for the vote of confidence. But I am half human, and he is not. He has nothing that could counter the evil inside him."

He was silent for a few seconds, pondering what she said.

"OK, if that is your opinion. You are our expert on the issue."

He rose from the chair, started for the door, then turned to her.

"He said he needed your help. That he had questions for you."

"I'd rather not be an assistant to demons. Last time I was, I almost destroyed the world."

He smiled at her. "And you saved it."

She smiled back at him. "I did. Now please leave me to my meditation."

He nodded, still smiling, turned and left her room.


"Do you have to leave?" Sue asked him, propped on her elbow, watching him as he got up from the bed and started dressing himself.

"Didn't have enough?" he grinned at her.

She frowned. "It's not that. It's just that… I want to be with you."

He used his power to feel her soul again. It was vibrant, alive, reacting to his presence with joy. He sat on the bed, still half-dressed, and stroked her hair, finally cupping her face in his hand. "I must go. I have things I have to do. But if you want, I can return."

"I do want. Or even better, I could go with you."

"No. What I need to do, I need to do alone."

She was silent for a second. "Is there someone else?"

"Don't be silly" he told her, then smiled at her. "Even if there was someone else, I doubt I could find the strength to be… unfaithful."

She giggled. "Yeah, it was pretty intense."

"That is one way of describing it."

He rose and finished dressing, while she watched his every move. He gave her a gentle kiss and went for the door.

"Bel?" she asked, suddenly serious.

"Hmmm?"

"Come back soon."

He grinned at her again. "I will. I promise."

He left her apartment and walked home. It was already dark, a slight breeze refreshing the otherwise oppressive heat radiating from the steel and concrete warmed up by the sun during the day.

He walked briskly, his intention clear to him. The information that he gathered from the books in the library helped him define the necessary bounds of his summoning. He needed only a few things more, then he could cast his magic and use it to find the elusive Raven.

He walked into a computer store and soon walked out with a cheap laptop, a small inkjet printer and a software package for making horoscopes. He grinned to himself. Leave it to mortals to turn a real mystical discipline – astrology – into a game of wishful thinking such as horoscopes. But it mattered not, the software would calculate and display the position of the heavenly bodies and their relationships; he needed that information to know how to place the mystic barriers, where to orient the pentagram and several other crucial requirements for the spell. Not to find out if he would meet a tall, dark stranger.

He also located a shop that offered magic tricks and paraphernalia for sleight-of-hand. There he purchased black candles and chalk dust. The few components he was still missing would have to be freshly obtained in the moment of casting the spell. A live chicken or pigeon would do the trick.

He cut through several alleys to get home quickly. Lost in his internal reverie, he failed to notice the shadows slinking behind him and did not hear the stealthy footsteps following him.

"Christmas coming early this year for us" a mocking voice startled him.

He stopped in his tracks, looking up. Two big humans were blocking his way, one of them twirling a tire iron, the other holding a hunting knife in a steady hand.

"You don't want to do this. Turn around and leave" he said.

The tire iron wielder laughed. "Yah. We'll leave, as soon as we have all your stuff." Still twirling the iron, he advanced on Beltheniel. The arm went up, the tire iron arced down.

Beltheniel was not there any more. One quick step to the side and one smash of a fist into the mugger's gut, and the thug rolled on the ground, gasping for air.

The second one's eyes narrowed as he feinted with the knife, carefully studying his opponent. Beltheniel realized this was no simple street bully. This man knew how to use his weapon.

The knife swung up in an eviscerating move, to suddenly stab forward as Beltheniel pulled back. He spun around, letting the knife pass an inch from his throat, continuing his spin to smash a fist in the mugger's temple.

The mugger ducked, Beltheniel's fist whistling harmlessly over his head, while his knife sliced back and in, cutting through leather jacket, shirt and skin. The burning, icy pain made Beltheniel gasp. His anger mounted. Soon he would not be able to control himself.

They exchanged lunges and counters. The thug feinted right, then stabbed at Beltheniel's eyes. Jerking his head, Beltheniel avoided most of it, but the blade left a bloody gash on his cheekbone.

"You should have left when you could" Beltheniel said, his voice a low growl. The mugger sprung back, his eyes widening. Beltheniel's index and middle fingers fused into one thick finger tipped with a long, sharp talon. The ring and little finger did likewise. The thumb lengthened, thickened and also extruded a curved talon. The claw swiped, leaving three bleeding gashes on the thug's chest.

With a strength born of panic and desperation, the mugger stabbed at the creature before him. The heavy blade of the knife penetrated the jacket and clothing and stopped. The slashed clothes parted, revealing thick scales covering Beltheniel's body. The other claw grabbed the thug's head and squeezed.

Licking the blood and brains from his claw with a long, forked tongue, Beltheniel turned to the other mugger, now crawling towards the wall encasing the alley, incredulous whines escaping from his constricted throat, his eyes filled with horror.

Beltheniel grinned at him, showing his long, serrated teeth, made for ripping out large chunks of flesh. The golden, slit-pupiled eye stared at the thug hungrily. The claws descended, grabbing and holding the mugger. The head came down. The jaws opened, shut, jerked back.

Releasing all his rage, Beltheniel indulged in a paroxysm of carnage. It lasted half a minute. As his rage turned into delicious satisfaction, Beltheniel picked up the mugger's head, recently ripped off from the body, and impaled it on the tire iron, slamming the other end of the iron into the wall and leaving it embedded there, the mugger's head still on it, slowly dripping blood to the ground.

Beltheniel breathed heavily, not from the exertion, but from the almost orgasmic pleasure that was running through his body. His tongue licked over his face, picking up the last drying drops of blood smeared over it. It was good.

He transformed back to his human form. A quick spell phased off the blood and guts stuck on him, leaving him clean, though his clothes were still torn. The knife wounds he suffered were almost closed, his demonic form regenerating quickly. He surveyed his work with one last satisfied look and left the alley, carrying the bags with his purchases.