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Fair warning, dear children who wish to pursue

This tale of journeying friends;

For not like the others this story is told

Not just by ambiguous ends.

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For this story has more than slicing in half

Or duels to the death for a soul

The hands bloodied this time are different, for sure,

From a heart as blackened as coal.

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A warning to those who cannot abide gore,

To those who fear innocence lost,

For herein are shed tears, transformed into blood

And certain moral lines are crossed.

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Prologue: Prostheses

The Island of Lanai (The state of Hawai'i)

The ceiling fan churned the humid air gently as Beelzebub stared up at it. He'd been to this place before, long ago... before ceiling fans had even been thought of, before this island had gotten its mischievous spirits banished. Those had been fun times, eating people, terrifying villages, but they had long since passed. Nowadays, instead of huts made of little more than pillars and thatched roofs, there were little houses that lined the quiet roads. Everyone knew everyone, it seemed, and Beelzebub knew that he would have to be careful or risk stirring up suspicion of who and what he truly was. But for now, in the heat of the afternoon, lying on the bed he'd stolen, it was all Beelzebub could do to lie still and think.

Humans were such innovative creatures, Beelzebub reflected as he flexed the mechanical fingers of his brand new right hand. Just a few centuries ago- a blink of an eye to a demon like him- there was nothing he could have done about losing his limbs so permanently, at least, not if he wanted to retain his human appearance and remain undetected by his enemies up in Heaven. Probably in another few hundred years, humans would be able to regenerate lost limbs. It was really quite astounding, and too few demons gave humans any credit these days. Too few djinn, as well, not that Beelzebub had ever encountered many djinn. Unlike humans, djinn, particularly evil djinn, actually noticed when he was around. It was strange, how his brothers from up in Heaven could disguise themselves completely, but he never seemed able to quite manage. Perhaps it was because he was never one for subtlety, like some of his hellish brothers. Lucifer, for example, was an absolute ace at sneaking around and often went unrecognized by even the angels.

But in all honesty, angels and djinn were both boring. Beelzebub knew that humans were the future of innovation, and this strange arm proved it. Not to mention the thing he'd ordered it off of- to think, that just sixteen years ago, before he'd been sealed up, that this Internet had barely begun to exist! And now it had exploded. He could go to any number of websites and watch people making food, or look up some savory recipe with the click of a few keys, or perhaps just look at tantalizing photographs of cake. It was wonderful and had made him eat like a king since he'd crawled out of that miserable hole in the ground.

Which reminded him... that one djinn woman... what was she up to now? Perhaps the Internet could help him find out. Feeling restless he opened his shiny new laptop with his astoundingly dexterous false hand and opened up a searchbar in the browser. Hesitantly, he typed in the name and within seconds he got... a big fat nothing. It was as though the woman didn't exist.

Beelzebub frowned and swept his unruly dark bangs out of his mismatched eyes, wincing slightly as his hand brushed his scar, a scar that still felt fresh. Damn those meddling djinn, he frowned, and decided to search for another name. Several useless encyclopaedia entries later, Beelzebub was no closer to finding the son that had done his job so well in freeing him... mostly.

Perhaps the Internet, as wonderful as it was, was not all powerful. It was, after all, only a creation of mundanes, who when all was said and done, were as useful as a flavourless meal. Which was what they were most of the time anyway.

No, the Internet couldn't help him find any djinn, but perhaps...

Abruptly, Beelzebub got out of bed, standing on his new prosthetic leg, which he'd ordered specifically to match his new arm. Sleek and black and useful only for keeping him balanced.

Again he looked up at the ceiling fan, though this time his gaze looked past it, to something that only he and those like him could see.

"I know you're up there and I know you know I'm down here. Why don't we cut the crap and have a chat?" His voice was scratchier than it was when he was in purely demon form: Beelzebub wasn't sure he liked it. It lacked the proper menace.

A sound like pigeons fluttering their wings came and suddenly he was not alone in the little house.

"What do you want?" A hostile female voice asked.

His mouth curling into a wicked smile that seemed too large for his face, Beelzebub turned around. "Now, now, Azrael, there's no need to talk like that." He said, oozing silky confidence. "I'm ready to call in that favor you owe me."

Azrael crossed her arms, the chainmail underneath the black robes she wore clinking, her bloodstained feathery wings shifting irritably, stubbornly visible. "Just because you helped me out once when you were still an angel doesn't mean I have to help you now. Besides, you'll just ask me to do something wicked, I know it."

Beelzebub did his best to look horribly offended. "Me?" He laid his prosthetic hand delicately on his collarbone. "I would never ask you to violate your calling. I just want you to find some people for me. Some family."

Azrael pursed her lips, trying not to let her irritation colour her dark face. "Who?"

Beelzebub's smile widened and hellfire flickered behind his mismatched eyes. "My dear sons and their mother."

"Fine." Azrael tutted resentfully, and with another flutter of her bloodstained wings, the angel vanished.

"Excellent," Beelzebub muttered to himself, smirking with self-congratulatory smugness. "Everything is proceeding as planned."


Author's Notes: I'm back, baby! And so is Beelzebub... oops. Speaking of Beelzebub, I've checked and re-checked the always lovely inconsistent sources that I have, and several have told me that Beelz is the demon of gluttony. So I guess that's what he'll be for us, too. Hence his fascination with foodie blogs.

Anyway, I'm super stoked for this installment to get going, and though the draft isn't quite finished, rest assured that I have enough to be updating every Sunday from now until next July, so updates should be regular! Also, on a much more serious note, in case my little poem up there didn't make it abundantly clear already, it's only fair to warn you, my dear readers, that we will be talking about some extremely dark and morbid themes later on in the story, and rest assured that I will be adding another warning to the beginning of each chapter that deals with such dark themes and going into a little bit more detail about possible triggers. I just don't want things to come out of nowhere- and let me tell you, there are parts that left my hands twitching for days after I wrote them in store for us in some of the later chapters. (As such, the rating for this is a very reluctant very tenuous T for now.) But until then, let's revel in the lovely romp that is caused by the fact that Lucy now has an actual schedule for her writing! Read, take it easy, and be sure to leave me a review (I love reviews, even if they're keyboard mashes about how terrified they are about what's to come since I'm being so cautious, creepy poem and everything)!

Remember kids, updates are on Sundays from now on~!

~Lucinda :)