.
We never talked about Hell. Somehow, it became something that we'd convinced ourselves that the other had forgotten about, or that it all was just a bad dream or a shock-fueled hallucination and surely, it could've been easily passed off as one if we'd ever talked to someone about it. Sometimes, I'd spend entire nights listening to my brother toss and turn in his sleep and I couldn't help but feel guilty for my ability to distance myself from what I found threatening. If I went to a human psychiatrist, I would surely be diagnosed as a sociopath.
Surely, one would have to be mad to spend actual time in Hell and not go completely insane. Right?
One day, after another night of thinking, I decided to address my brother. "Beauregard?"
Those storm-colored eyes searched for mine, his brow furrowed ever-so-slightly in confusion - I only ever used his full name before a serious discussion was to occur.
But, instead of all of the questions that I had in mind, I only asked: "Are you okay?"
We didn't lie to each other, ever, because honesty was an important part of every relationship, especially a familial one. But at that moment, I could clearly see him hesitate. After a few moments of silence, he sighed.
"I think I've convinced myself that I am. But the truth is… I can't stop thinking about it." He paused, his eyes closing for a good minute before he was able to look at her again. "Father said that you didn't even flinch."
I immediately sensed the underlying question. I slowly shook my head. "I didn't."
"How has it been, then? For you?" Beau pressed on, because they were finally talking about it and it was clear that he'd prepared many of his own questions. Only he was bolder at asking them than her.
I had to think about what I would say to him, because I suddenly realized what the truth made me look like. The truth was a such a small, simple word, but I knew that it wasn't what my brother wanted to hear. It was something no one wanted to hear and I didn't even want to admit it to myself.
"It was…" I start, digging my fingernails into my palms, because the half-truth felt like a lie as soon as it came out of my mouth. "Different."
.
Things seemed to go for the better since that day.
A few months later, Beau and the chocolate-eyed policewoman, Nicole, began dating. Two weeks after that, she announced that she'd quit her job, so she began working at the bar. A year later, the two had gotten married and moved to live together in a separate house. There was no denying that the woman was clever, kind and absolutely gorgeous, and somehow, my dear brother didn't seem to mind the fact that she was a succubus.
It had all happened so fast and even now, four years after I became completely independent, I'm still struggling to cope with waking up in a quiet apartment.
So, I got a dog.
It was a gorgeous, gray-furred pup with mismatched eyes and a wonky tail. Someone stepped on it by accident, the salesman had said, which was probably a code for: I ran my car over it and, accidentally or not, the dog ended up with a broken tail. I didn't mind, though, so I'd scooped up the frightened pup in my arms and took him home. As soon as we'd gotten there, he jumped out of my arms and began running around my tiny apartment and sniffing every single surface within his reach, before he finally peed into my flower pot.
The same night, there had been a freak thunderstorm. Despite my strange obsession with Mother Nature's violent mood swings in the forms of thunder and lightning, I was a little worried that my new roommate might not be too keen on it. Strangely, the dog, instead of hiding under my bed, spent the better part of the night staring out the window and half-barking, half-howling at the storm, as if he was greeting the sylphs creating it and, every time a lightning seemed to tear apart the night sky, he happily wiggled his butt and wonky tail.
"I shall name you Lux Morpheus," I officially told him later that night, when he hopped onto the bed and slipped under my wing. "After the one thing you don't seem to be terrified of, and… Morpheus is just because I like the name"
Lux Morpheus barked happily, cordially accepting his new title and completely ignoring its obscurity.
I awoke eight hours later completely refreshed. That was the first night in years that I'd slept without my mind being plagued with dreams that I couldn't explain, from the time that I'd erased from my memory. I softly scratched the dog between his ears, before giving him a kiss on the nose, which he returned by licking me all over my face.
.
.
It seemed that all the bar needed to truly come to life was a little music.
It all began one September night, when Beau and Nicole decided to organize a karaoke night. At first, I thought that it was a silly idea, but as it turned out, humans, whether they were fueled with liquid courage or not, truly enjoyed singing. Some were horrible and some were bearable, but in a strange way it brought them closer and they would even climb onto the stage in groups to sing one or a few songs.
The most frequent singer was an unusually bright and bubbly woman, sometimes alone, but usually accompanied with one or two friends, one of whom I immediately recognized as a water nymph with an unusual name of only two letters smashed together. The other woman was slightly older, dark-haired and with a contagious laugh that one couldn't help but giggle along with, and she had a superbly ordinary name that somehow suited her perfectly: Emily. Those three never came on a specific day of the week like most people did, but they did visit every week at least once, which made me think that they must have had an unpredictable work schedule. Maybe they worked in a branch of medicine, or were in the local police.
So, one night, I asked Nicole about it.
"Oh, yeah," the demoness said as she counted the tips she got. "I remember them from about six years ago, while I was on a murder case. The chief called them in to help us investigate, but if you ask me… those guys had all the fun."
I rolled my eyes, taking a few seconds to process her words. Could it be… I remembered an article that I'd glossed over back in 2003, about a spree killer in the DC area. The only reason that it stuck with me was that it was the first time in that I'd seen my father on the surface, and I also learned that his job wasn't just regular bounty hunting.
This is it, no turning back now, my instinct told me, but that didn't stop fear from creeping up my spine and wrapping its cold fingers around my throat. Seconds suddenly felt like hours and the air itself, the very thing that my species was forged from, felt unnatural as time slowed down to a halt.
"What is happening?" I asked the Angel, even though deep down, I knew.
"I'm giving you time to remember." A wing came around my shoulder in a gesture that probably should've been consoling, but it instead only served to crush me from inside out.
"Remember what?" I snapped, shrugging the dark brown feathery cloak off of me and moving to step in front of him. For once, I thanked my sylph genes for allowing me to be so freakishly tall, which gave me the added courage to stand up to the infinitely stronger Angel and look him in the eye.
With his usual collectiveness, Amenadiel cocked his head slightly to the side. "How interesting."
"What is?"
"Your impatience," he said calmly, which only served to fuel my defensive posture. "It seems to overcome even my brother's." The Angel sat at one of the empty tables after withdrawing his wings so that he could lean against the backrest. He pointed to the empty chair across from him and I stared at it for a few moments, before sitting down with a small sigh.
"Which brother are you talking about exactly?" I asked, watching as his lip curled upward.
"How much time did you spend with Lucifer?"
Ah, there it was, the question that my brother had never asked, and even if he did, I would have been forced to twist the truth so that he wouldn't feel guilty afterwards.
Swallowing, I leaned forward in my chair to look my heavenly protector in the eye.
"A hundred and twenty years, give or take. It's all a bit blurry, to be perfectly honest."
.