Author's Note: It's been a rather long wait I know. But I've been out of
time and inspiration for a while. Another drastic change of POV, no fluffy
romance until chapter five I'm afraid. On a more personal note, I found
that I needed a slight change from the NNY/SQUEE dynamic. But it's all back
to them next chapter. OK that's all I'm telling! Just read!
Chapter Four: Meanwhile: Purveyor of the Final Assessment
"You wanted to see me father?" I ask looming in the doorway as is my wont.
"Yes, yes son. Come in here," my father demands of me impatiently. As I do as told I can feel my usual arrogance drifting from my flesh as if a moist finger touched my skin.
I'm standing before him, he at his desk and I swallow. I always get so nervous at these little 'meetings'. Usually-that's incorrect; more often than not they end in something ghastly. No you perverted twisted mortals; I was never raped by my father. My tasks are usually much worse and more physically, not mention emotionally demanding.
"You are very close to seventeen," he tells me as if I do not know this. This greatly annoys me. He knows this but waves it away with a flutter of skeletal fingers. "I want you to collect your first soul for our fiery gates. Her name is Devi; she died at around thirty-perhaps a tad younger. You will go to her apartment with this," my father slides a slick black brief case out from under his desk. I attempt to hold it only with my unnaturally long fingernails; glad of the fact they hold strong. The valise is slick with chilling human carbon that I find no pleasure in touching. Mortals as soon as they lay hands to this (they are usually shoved inside) start to melt. This happens very slowly for the ride home. My father clears his throat, catching me staring at the thing. "I want her here no less than midnight."
Uncharacteristically curious suddenly, I inquire, "How did she die father?"
He smirks at me. I don't know how he manages to project a smirk with no lips but my father Satan-this he can manage. "A mad stabbing took her during sex Pepito. Don't even bother with the corpse, she apparently wasn't any good."
This I find funny though being a necrophiliac is only an irritating stereotype. How I hate mortals. I nod, bowing slightly and turn on my heel out of the room.
Upstairs my mother finds the need to question me. "Where are you going sweetie?"
"Errand for father," I say with my air of charm back. I smile and get my cape for the chill drive over. Somehow I know where this Devi person lived. I know I'll find a carcass, yes of this 'sexual stabbing' but also her melancholy soul lingering. The saved go straight to their heaven. The damned have the added attraction of meeting their Satan, or in her case the son of him.
I get into my car, cape strapped around my shoulders with heavy silver buckles and the case beside me in the passenger seat. The ignition starts to smoke as I turn the key. The car should have been warmed up. Otherwise the mechanism melts a little with my touch, especially in this fall air. But nevertheless I fly down the road, concern in me void for the passerby if not for the fact it would only mean side trips on the ride home. I tap my hand on the steering wheel while briefly stuck in traffic, starting to hope this would not make me late for an evening meeting with Magnus. I can already feel the other little demon in me getting stiffer.
Well I see her shabby apartment that my innate demon sense brought me to. I can even feel my father guiding me and abruptly commanding I get my head out of my trousers. Not literally to clear this up for the perverts. Even the heir of Satan can't do that. If he could, he'd never leave his room. But that's entirely off the point.
I'm climbing the stairs, clutching my valise. I probably look like some terrorist with his little black briefcase. I quickly find the apartment on the third floor, belonging to Devi and again I wonder about her. I wonder what she did to be condemned to hell. "Hello?" I say like some relative as I step in after melting the lock away.
Sobs are all I hear. Now I know why. We always get stuck with the whiners. I skirt around the corner down to the doorway where I smell her body. All over the floor are blood and a discarded knife. Then of course the corpse lies with its head squashed behind the door. Whoever did this was in a perfectly jubilant mood as I sensed from standing beside the cadaver for a bit.
Finally in the bathroom the sobs are traced. Devi screams at the sight of me. "He sent you, didn't he?!" she shrieks at me. This spirit is a mad one obviously from the violence of its death and this all too obvious reaction. Rolling my eyes I merely reply, "Yes I was sent by him if it will make this transition smoother." Devi looks at me questioningly eyes wide and translucent 'flesh' almost nonexistent in the surging bathroom light.
"You are condemned to Hell," I tell her.
"Why?" she whimpers in a ball.
Because I said so bitch, is all I want to say. What I really reply is, "Fuck if I know. Get in this case." I forget she can still manipulate objects in this stage. Almost quicker than I move she rushed past me, a wind of cold water rushes over me and nearly puts out the eternal flame even the lowliest demons carry. She turns with the knife of her murder, endowments splayed to me along with the in time that are her bones pressing through split flesh and the still heart. "Get in the fucking case," I say menacing as I grab her by the throat. My power back from its momentary lapse, the spirit is on her knees and visibly fire x-rays her body, scorching intangible muscles and veins. Energy in the form of blood starts to drain until Devi is almost invisible, even more colorless than before. Quickly I bring a pointed finger from my right hand down her front, cutting her untouchable skin. Plasma cuts fall onto the floor and her body is shook by lightening like forms, splitting her body.
Nobody questions Satan.
And at this point I am Satan. "Now get into this valise."
She mumbles uh-huh and complies, squeezing her bloody lumps of ghostly flesh inside. Devi even closes it in on herself with a dry click. Needless to say I discarded the cloak upon leaving the apartment complex and my car had transformed itself to my needs. Satan can't be caught.
Chapter Four: Meanwhile: Purveyor of the Final Assessment
"You wanted to see me father?" I ask looming in the doorway as is my wont.
"Yes, yes son. Come in here," my father demands of me impatiently. As I do as told I can feel my usual arrogance drifting from my flesh as if a moist finger touched my skin.
I'm standing before him, he at his desk and I swallow. I always get so nervous at these little 'meetings'. Usually-that's incorrect; more often than not they end in something ghastly. No you perverted twisted mortals; I was never raped by my father. My tasks are usually much worse and more physically, not mention emotionally demanding.
"You are very close to seventeen," he tells me as if I do not know this. This greatly annoys me. He knows this but waves it away with a flutter of skeletal fingers. "I want you to collect your first soul for our fiery gates. Her name is Devi; she died at around thirty-perhaps a tad younger. You will go to her apartment with this," my father slides a slick black brief case out from under his desk. I attempt to hold it only with my unnaturally long fingernails; glad of the fact they hold strong. The valise is slick with chilling human carbon that I find no pleasure in touching. Mortals as soon as they lay hands to this (they are usually shoved inside) start to melt. This happens very slowly for the ride home. My father clears his throat, catching me staring at the thing. "I want her here no less than midnight."
Uncharacteristically curious suddenly, I inquire, "How did she die father?"
He smirks at me. I don't know how he manages to project a smirk with no lips but my father Satan-this he can manage. "A mad stabbing took her during sex Pepito. Don't even bother with the corpse, she apparently wasn't any good."
This I find funny though being a necrophiliac is only an irritating stereotype. How I hate mortals. I nod, bowing slightly and turn on my heel out of the room.
Upstairs my mother finds the need to question me. "Where are you going sweetie?"
"Errand for father," I say with my air of charm back. I smile and get my cape for the chill drive over. Somehow I know where this Devi person lived. I know I'll find a carcass, yes of this 'sexual stabbing' but also her melancholy soul lingering. The saved go straight to their heaven. The damned have the added attraction of meeting their Satan, or in her case the son of him.
I get into my car, cape strapped around my shoulders with heavy silver buckles and the case beside me in the passenger seat. The ignition starts to smoke as I turn the key. The car should have been warmed up. Otherwise the mechanism melts a little with my touch, especially in this fall air. But nevertheless I fly down the road, concern in me void for the passerby if not for the fact it would only mean side trips on the ride home. I tap my hand on the steering wheel while briefly stuck in traffic, starting to hope this would not make me late for an evening meeting with Magnus. I can already feel the other little demon in me getting stiffer.
Well I see her shabby apartment that my innate demon sense brought me to. I can even feel my father guiding me and abruptly commanding I get my head out of my trousers. Not literally to clear this up for the perverts. Even the heir of Satan can't do that. If he could, he'd never leave his room. But that's entirely off the point.
I'm climbing the stairs, clutching my valise. I probably look like some terrorist with his little black briefcase. I quickly find the apartment on the third floor, belonging to Devi and again I wonder about her. I wonder what she did to be condemned to hell. "Hello?" I say like some relative as I step in after melting the lock away.
Sobs are all I hear. Now I know why. We always get stuck with the whiners. I skirt around the corner down to the doorway where I smell her body. All over the floor are blood and a discarded knife. Then of course the corpse lies with its head squashed behind the door. Whoever did this was in a perfectly jubilant mood as I sensed from standing beside the cadaver for a bit.
Finally in the bathroom the sobs are traced. Devi screams at the sight of me. "He sent you, didn't he?!" she shrieks at me. This spirit is a mad one obviously from the violence of its death and this all too obvious reaction. Rolling my eyes I merely reply, "Yes I was sent by him if it will make this transition smoother." Devi looks at me questioningly eyes wide and translucent 'flesh' almost nonexistent in the surging bathroom light.
"You are condemned to Hell," I tell her.
"Why?" she whimpers in a ball.
Because I said so bitch, is all I want to say. What I really reply is, "Fuck if I know. Get in this case." I forget she can still manipulate objects in this stage. Almost quicker than I move she rushed past me, a wind of cold water rushes over me and nearly puts out the eternal flame even the lowliest demons carry. She turns with the knife of her murder, endowments splayed to me along with the in time that are her bones pressing through split flesh and the still heart. "Get in the fucking case," I say menacing as I grab her by the throat. My power back from its momentary lapse, the spirit is on her knees and visibly fire x-rays her body, scorching intangible muscles and veins. Energy in the form of blood starts to drain until Devi is almost invisible, even more colorless than before. Quickly I bring a pointed finger from my right hand down her front, cutting her untouchable skin. Plasma cuts fall onto the floor and her body is shook by lightening like forms, splitting her body.
Nobody questions Satan.
And at this point I am Satan. "Now get into this valise."
She mumbles uh-huh and complies, squeezing her bloody lumps of ghostly flesh inside. Devi even closes it in on herself with a dry click. Needless to say I discarded the cloak upon leaving the apartment complex and my car had transformed itself to my needs. Satan can't be caught.