Chapter 34, Pursuit of Proof.

He lay lounged on the bed, watching her dress in the amber morning sun. To him, there was never a more beautiful sight, and he was filled with a warmth as alien as he knew it. He wasn't sure at what point his interest in the human had turned into a desire, but lately it seemed to have sprouted and bloomed into something much more than that. Something he was unfamiliar with. Normally, this was the point at which he would begin to tire of a companion; they would so often start to demand so much, request so much of his time, and their interactions would become monotonous. He had wooed her, gotten her to trust him, to let him back in, and now she was his in nearly every way possible. What more could be done, he wondered, searching the depths of his mind. Was such a sweet game finally coming to an end? And if it was, why did he have an unwavering sense to have her close, to protect her, to keep her and take care of her? Wouldn't he become bored, like he always did?

The eternal unrest raced through the shadows of his conscience, unknowingly to the precious life before him. He pursed his lips as his eyes followed the curves of her body as she moved about. Pops of skin glowed in the early morning sunlight as she slid her clothing on, and without even thinking, he found himself running his fingertips along the sheets, envisioning once more how her bare skin had felt. Realizing this, he blushed lightly, jerking his arm up. She glanced over his way, and when her glistening eyes met with his, his heart thumped.

He looked up at her like a puppy from the bed as she dressed, prepping for her day. She chuckled a bit when he flopped over on his belly, resting his chin in his palms as he watched her intently, a warmth glowing on his face.

"You should quit," he said, finally breaking the blissful silence.

She chortled in surprise. "Quit?"

"Quit your job, stay here with me," he said as he sat up. "I'll take care of you."

She stood from the chair where she had been tying her shoes, and laughed haughtily. "I don't think so. I quite like my job." It at least gave her a break from studies, and from the demon who demanded most of her time.

There is was. That hint of defiance. It wasn't always prevalent, but when it did make an appearance it drove him wild. Raising his hand, he motioned with a finger for her to come to him, to which she only stuck her tongue out on her way to the bathroom. His eyes gleamed as a crafty smirk cracked upon his face, and in seconds the girl was pulled back by an unknown force until she landed on the bed next to him. Still unfamiliar with his powers, she gasped and wheezed in surprise, only to find the demon king flipping himself over her as he pinned her down.

"I said, I want you to quit," he spoke through curled lips, his eyebrows rising to the challenge.

Giggling, she sat up and puffed out her lips a bit. "And I said: No," she cooed, mocking him playfully and pushing him off of her. He didn't resist the nudge; he couldn't. And so he flopped back onto the mattress with a hint of a smile as she stood, denying him once more.

The chime of a phone went off on the nightstand, and they both recognized the ringtone as one of the theme songs to an anime Mephisto was quite fond of. Hastily retrieving his phone, he looked at the contact. "We'll talk about this later," he dismissed as he got up from the bed, leaving the room.

It must have been a rather important phone call, as he didn't return to the bedroom while she took her time getting ready. Grabbing her things, she walked through the halls, calling out to him, with no reply. It happened often, this sort of thing; something important would come up, and he would leave to take care of his duties without even telling her. Usually, the help would inform her of his likely whereabouts, but that was all she would get. In truth, before she had known about his true identity, she found herself very perplexed on how he would leave so quickly without her noticing, but everything was beginning to make sense. If ever she had a question, it was usually solved by such a thought: He's a demon, after all.

Walking to work, she marveled at how many little demons were scattered about. The barriers set around the University might have kept out a lot of demons, but it seemed these harmless little ones would make their way in somehow. They seemed curious of the life in the bustling city, and she was amazed to see what they actually looked like. Only having references from images in her textbooks, she had only seen the biased drawings of the Order and the Vatican; although for most of her life she didn't believe that demons could be so malicious and look such a way, after meeting the ferocious Fenrir and the destructive Amaimon, she had begun to doubt the intentions of demons as a whole. But as she walked the city streets, she saw something totally different. Little coal tahl floated through the air mindlessly, bumping into one another or into walls or into people every once in a while. Confused, they would stop and blink before shaking and re-fluffing themselves, and moving on. Some smaller, animal like demons would be seen at some of the shops, especially the ones with food, causing some sort of mischief. A little hunched black creature with a fluffy tail, no larger than a cat, popped and fizzled as two little clawed hands came out, meeting with the tray of fruit at a stand; it tugged and pulled before it realized the stand wasn't going to budge from its tiny body, and instead it resorted to jumping up. The fruit began to shift and scatter about as it fumbled, causing some to plop to the ground and roll away.

They seemed harmless.

Why had she been so scared?

Turning around, she noticed she had a train of little demons trotting behind her, and quite a few coal tahl trailing as well while they drifted through the air. She stopped, and they all came to a halt, little beady eyes watching her carefully. Some of the coal tahl bumped into each other, sending little puffs of dust out around them. Chuckling to herself, she continued on her way to the café.

Maybe she wasn't as naïve as she had thought. Maybe they were curious little creatures without terrible intentions. Maybe their curious, playful nature was just misunderstood by humans. After all, it seems she had misunderstood Amaimon.

Samael's brother. Had he been drawn to her as well? That might explain the way he acted toward her, she thought, face growing warm as she tied her apron behind the counter. She wondered if Amaimon had said anything to his brother, the King of Time, about what had happened. The little green haired demon had kept pleading for her to keep everything a secret, so she couldn't imagine he would bring the events up. Brother can't know, he had said. He was so distraught, so frantic when she threatened him. He must have meant Mephisto. But why was he so anxious?

She was noticeably red when her mind replayed Amaimon kissing her in slow motion. That's a bit awkward, she thought to herself with a hum, setting drinks down on a table for a guest. Let's not bring that up again, she reprimanded. After all, she had told the little demon to never come to her again, and her hopes were high.

While on her lunch, she sat at one of the little tables in the corner of the café, looking up articles on her phone. She might not have had her textbooks with her while at work, but she could still read up on some legends and pull some information within them. First order of business: Samael. She had read tidbits about the eight Demon Kings in class here and there, but it wasn't particularly pressing for her to learn everything and everything she could about them at such a time.

But now, more than ever, she was curious.

Her eyes shifted through the articles, picking up as much material as she could. There were so many different depictions of Samael, what he was, what he stood for, who he worked for. The most popular lore was that he was an archangel, who was said to have fallen from God – but she knew him to be the son of Satan himself, so that didn't quite make much sense. However, angels and demons were all names that humans had given to the entities from Gehenna, it just depended on how good, or how evil, the Vatican thought the beings were. Were humans really so full of themselves? She chuckled to herself and rolled her eyes.

Continuing on another page, it read that Samael, unlike his brother Lucifer who was purely evil, was said to be both good and evil – often times working for the good, while enforcing the darker side of faith. In some legends, he's associated with death and destruction, temptation and seduction, or even divine justice. He was a contradiction in every sense; the prince of demons, who took heed the word of God, and embodied good and evil into one being.

She sighed heavily, ripping a bite from her bagel. These articles were practically useless; they varied too greatly from religion to religion, and it seemed as though they couldn't settle on what kind of angel or demon he was. Was the man she was involved with really that complex? She did find it odd that he, a Demon King, was on earth helping the Vatican. He just wanted peace between Assiah and Gehenna, that's what he had told her, so long ago. He adored all things human, even they themselves.

Her mind went on a rampage, trying to decipher old texts. Maybe the Vatican was being represented in the lore as God itself – that would mean that although he was from what humans viewed as evil, he took word and commands from the 'good.' But what was this part about falling from God? Perhaps, she reasoned, it was a translating error. Satan himself was revered as a God often enough.

She was lost in thought as she scrolled through articles, still trying to get a sense of him as much as she could, when someone walked over to the table and stood in front of her, practically unnoticed.

"Well aren't you radiant!" an unfamiliar voice came.

The girl nearly jumped from her seat as she scrambled to keep her phone from dropping to the ground. Eyes darting up, she was met with an unknown face, beaming brightly at her. He wore the exorcist uniform, but something seemed strange. Maybe it was the sudden manner that he approached.

"Mind if I have a seat?" the man asked with a smirk, pulling the chair across the table. The girl nodded with large eyes, watching him plop down. He started with some tedious small talk, trying to break the ice repeatedly, asking what the girl was doing while he tried to peek at the little screen, or asking how she was, and so on. His eyes felt like daggers scraping at her skin. The girl quietly answered all of the questions unenthusiastically, tucking her phone into her pocket safely. Every once in a while, he would stop almost mid-sentence and apologize, going on about how lovely the girl appeared. She was picturesque, he would complement—she was just glowing.

"I bet Mephisto is quite pleased to have such nice arm candy," he finally boasted, raising an eyebrow.

The girl froze. "E-excuse me?" she stuttered, trying to stay as collected as possible. How on earth did he know?

A mischievous grin took hold of him. "You're quite the topic among the uppers. Tell me, girl, has he revealed his true identity to you?"

She sucked a large gulp through her straw, and laughed nervously with a little cough. "I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about."

She watched as his eyes narrowed. "Of course… My mistake!" he chuckled, smiling brightly. "Just thought you should know, in case something was going on, he's quite the little trickster. But if the two of you aren't involved, well then, there's nothing to worry about!"

"What do you mean?" the girl asked, suddenly becoming much more interested in the conversation. Did this man know something she didn't?

"Oh nothing!" he chimed, gaze dancing into the café. "Speak of the devil himself," he muttered, watching someone approach.

Drawing her attention to the side, the girl finally laid eyes on the demon king, who stood poised, his arms behind his back at the side of the table. A prickly irritability flashed in his pupils as a crooked, taut smile forced its way across his sharp face. "Sorry to interrupt such a delightful conversation," he began, shooting a hard look at the exorcist. "But if you'll please excuse us, this one has something urgent to attend to." He brought out a gloved hand, helping the perplexed girl from her seat.

She glanced back to see the man in his black trench coat, leering distastefully from under low lids. "B-but my shift…?" she muttered as Mephisto quickly escorted her to through the door he held open for her.

"I'll take care of it," he answered sharply as they left, keeping a stern gaze on the streets ahead while they walked briskly.

He was so close as they walked, yet he felt so far. She peered up at him, questions filling her mind. "Sam—"

"Don't call me that. Not in the open," he said swiftly, cutting her off as his pupils darted around the street, taking in every face he could see. Looking down at the poor, disordered human who stood next to him, his heart poured to see her appear so pathetic. "There are people in the Vatican, and elsewhere, who seem to be investigating my relationships with others, and by association: you; we must keep what goes on very hushed." He lead her down an alley way, where he finally stopped out of sight of the general passerby, turning to her and placing his hands on her shoulders. "There are going to be those who will try to make me seem…less than trustworthy. Please don't listen to any of it."

His face was tense and his eyes burned into her, displaying the true gravity of the matter which he attempted to downplay as much as he could, brushing it off with his sort of charisma. Something had to have happened, but knowing that her many queries would be left unanswered, she didn't even bother; instead, she cautiously nodded her head in agreement.

"Splendid," he cheered, pleased with her making the decision to trust his word over others; his whole demeanor changed as he shined down at the girl, giving her a quick peck while out of sight from the world. Nothing stayed boring for long.