Beelzebub intrigued Gabriel, even from the first moment. Deeply. It only got worse once he started sharing classes with the boy.
Quiet, studious. Eloquent, and fiercely intelligent. He spoke rarely in the literature class that they shared, but his ideas were interesting. His perspectives of the classics were, naturally, colored by his own experiences as a demon. His opinions were fresh, and his interpretations were interesting. Gabriel doubted that he'd ever be able to look at the demons in the Hunchback of Notre Dame the same way again.
He was more vocal in their theology class, whether he wanted to be or not. Their professor for that class was Dr. Sandalphon. As it turned out, Dr. Sandalphon fancied himself a provocateur. Most of the class conversation ended with him asking for Beelzebub's opinion on the topic of the day, being the token demon in the room.
Being constantly asked (required, considering how much class participation counted towards their final grades) to defend one's right to exist must be taxing. But Beelzebub rose to the challenge. He wore the contempt of their professor like the robes of a priest.
In his defense of his people, Beelzebub glowed. He was a holy thing, and Gabriel could see how a man like Elijah Sandalphon might feel threatened by that. By his quiet charisma and his unwavering faith.
Ten days ago, a car bomb took out Beelzebub's grubby-looking apartment complex. It was, indeed, about a block off of campus. Since campus housing did not extend to demons, most of the demons on campus now found themselves homeless. Eight demons died in the blast, and another four succumbed to their injuries. Beelzebub and his friends were not among the dead when Gabriel read about it in the school newspaper.
Beelzebub himself was in class the next day. He'd traded his white shirt for a black one. He also started wearing a black armband with a fleur-de-lis stamped in white around the sleeve of his greatcoat.
Order of Lucifer. Their motto was in the old Daemonic tongue. But it translated loosely to, "By Ourselves." They waited for no help from any quarter. As evidenced by the small group of demons who quietly picked through the bricks and rubble of the apartment complex after school and work. At first, to salvage. Then, to clear the lot and, if the city council granted the permit, to rebuild.
Gabriel saw a lot of parallel between the Order of Lucifer and the Rainbow Jaguars in the States. They were both Demons' Rights activists who staged sit-ins and started community development programs.
Though the Jaguars were not doing well these days. A few assassinations in the last two decades had stolen the breath of the movement. Drug problems (rumored to have been engineered by the DS' own Intelligence Agencies, but Gabriel didn't know if he believed that) ripped holes in the group more effectively than a Gatling gun.
The Northern Iathghlas government hadn't clamped down on the Order of Lucifer the way that the States had with the Jaguars. Gabriel hoped, at least for his classmate's sake, that they never did.
In the last class before the bombing of the chemistry lab, a spare week after the car bomb took out the apartment complex, Professor Sandalphon had asked the class (mostly Beelzebub, though) what the world had lost in the twelve demons who died.
When nobody answered, he said, "Well, what do you think, Beelzebub? These are your people. You tell us, what did the world lose?"
Gabriel was gripping his desk so hard that his knuckles were white. Professor Sandalphon's audacity left a sour, acidic taste in Gabriel's mouth. Especially when the target of such obvious and unprofessional prejudice was such a benign and clever boy.
Especially when the professor in question was so pleasant to Gabriel and the other angels that he taught.
"What did the world lose? Their lives," Beelzebub replied. He seemed bored with the professor, which only enraged Dr. Sandalphon further. "Nothing less."
"And that does beg the question-what are the lives of a dozen demons worth, eh?"
Beelzebub closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. A sick, twisted grin spread across Dr. Sandalphon's face. That grin was an eager thing, and it made Gabriel's wings prickle. Even now, in his memories, it made his wings prickle.
"You asked me what the world lost, and I answered you," Beelzebub said, voice as soft as flannel around a lead pipe. "Now, you want me to measure all twelve of their hearts against a feather for you? Yes, that's exactly what you want."
He drew himself up, out of the desk. He was so small, especially compared to Dr. Sandalphon, who'd been a wrestler in college. Still, he walked up to the man. Head up, shoulders straight.
The knife, small and silver and dangerous, slipped out of his coat pocket with a malicious sparkle. Magician-quick, he flicked it open, whipped the handle around and pointed it (handle first) at the professor.
Dr. Sandalphon took the knife, not really understanding the purpose of the demonstration.
"If I am to be an example of my kind," Beelzebub said, sliding his greatcoat from his slim shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. "If it's 'my people', then I'll represent them well, surely."
Outside of the wooly confines of the greatcoat, Beelzebub's wings unfolded and stretched-two skyward and two towards the scuffed linoleum floor. He was not wingless, after all.
Gabriel had heard of demons with insect wings, but he'd never seen them in person before. The boy's wings were long, tapering, and translucent as glass. A wash of rainbows splashed the class, dazzling them as the glassy wings shattered the fluorescent light.
A few students gasped, audibly.
"If you're so curious about what the world lost, and what we're worth-if you have to measure someone's heart against a feather," he said, dropping his shoulders and wings and letting his jacket fall from his body. Letting his rainbows drift with the movement of those beautiful, gossamer wings. "Why don't you just do it, then? I've got a heart, and you've got a feather. I'm sure we can find a scale."
Dr. Sandalphon held the knife out, his hands shaking. The fury in his face was a deadly thing.
Beelzebub moved, a dancer, a bolt of lightning. He grabbed their professor's shaking wrist and pressed the blade to his own breast. "Do it, you coward," he said.
Nobody moved. Gabriel's heart was hammering, but he could not even breathe.
The sound of the knife clattering to the floor was very, very loud. It was followed, very shortly, by the bell that ended the class.
"All your kind understands is violence," Dr. Sandalphon said, his voice rich with false pity. "It's very sad. Well, you shouldn't expect violence from me. I'm an angel, after all. Now, let me go and put your clothes back on."
Beelzebub released Sandalphon's wrist. He gathered his clothes and knife, then stalked back to his seat for his books. Some of the class snickered at him, but most just fled the classroom as quickly as they could.
Gabriel watched Beelzebub pack his books, his own already in his satchel. Beelzebub slipped his jacket on, carefully pulling his wings through the slits in the back. He buttoned the jacket, then folded his glorious wings down before yanking the greatcoat on.
Beelzebub noticed Gabriel watching. He stopped moving, stopped breathing, from where Gabriel was sitting. The boy was assessing a threat, looking skittish, as he usually did. The hated orphan, looking for a friendly fire escape and a foggy rooftop to vanish over.
The rest of the class was gone now, moving to their next class, to the library, the cafeteria, to whatever waited outside the confines of Dr. Sandalphon's domain.
Gabriel looked past Beelzebub, to Dr. Sandalphon, back to Beelzebub. He shrugged, giving Beelzebub a gentle smile.
The demon's bright blue eyes widened, and the left corner of his mouth pulled up. A half-smile. He understood Gabriel's intentions. And he looked happy to have an ally.
"Mr. DiAngelo," Dr. Sandalphon said, from his desk. "I'm going to need a few words with Beelzebub. Please step out."
Always with the angels, it was Mr. So-and-So. Miss So-and-So. But he called Beelzebub by his given name.
"Alright," he said. "I'll be right outside."
Gabriel heard Dr. Sandalphon mutter something about "nosey Dominionists" as he ducked out of the room. Dr. Sandalphon closed the door.
The door was oak and thick, but Gabriel felt certain that he'd be able to hear if someone on the other side screamed. Not just anyone. Beelzebub.
He heard the deep rumble of Dr. Sandalphon's voice. Beelzebub, for his part, was silent.
The only words he could make out came from Professor Sandalphon, "Where's my damned pen?"
A few moments of further grumbling passed before Beelzebub opened the door and stepped out. He stopped in front of Gabriel.
"You waited," he said.
"I said I would."
"It's good of you."
"Where are you headed?"
"Entomology lab. Ingrid Hall."
"Can I walk you there?"
"Not a very safe idea for you, cowboy."
"Cowboy?"
"Yeah," he said, then paused. He seemed to be weighing his word choice, deciding if he liked it. He flashed the same hesitant half-smile at Gabriel. "Yeah, cowboy. It was nice of you to offer, but I'm fine. I'll see you tomorrow."
Their literature class. "Yeah," Gabriel said. "Sure."
Beelzebub nodded, and then turned to the west wing staircase.
Gabriel followed him, even though his next class was in the same building, just down the central staircase. "Hey, what did Sandalphon want, anyways?"
"I'm to write him a paper on demon indentureship," he replied. "Just two pages, but he said to focus on the positive aspects of indenture. How good it was for our souls."
They were both halfway down the stairs. The noise of the hall fell away from them as they descended. "That's...genuinely awful. I'm sorry. Can't you drop the class?"
"There was a change in university requirements," Beelzebub replied. "I'm two humanities short for my degree. This and the Lit class were the only two openings. Which is why I'm spending my last semester before my dissertation semester in two undergraduate classes."
"Dissertation? You're working on your PhD?"
"My second one, yes."
"Oh. Wow." He must be a lot older than I thought.
"Thanks," he said.
They were in the little foyer at the bottom of the western stairs. Nobody really used this stairwell, it seemed. This was, beyond a doubt, the quietest place that Gabriel had ever encountered on campus. The silence settled over the two of them like the ocean, closing in and holding tight. Making it hard to breathe.
At least for Gabriel.