Page 12 of Demons & Damnation

Chapter 6

Balthazar couldn’t resist the giant smirk crossing his face. As the red taillights of Kyla’s Audi S3 disappeared into the night, he patted his brother on the back, and chuckled.

“Think it’s safe to say you’ve met your match there.”

Azazel turned and shoved his brother away from him. “I think it’s safe to say that you clearly underestimate me. What the hell was with you claiming we know her already?”

“If you’d bothered to actually do some reading around here, then you’d know that she knows the family and went to college with the real nephews. Thankfully they’re three years older than her which nicely explains how we’ve ‘grown into our bodies’.”

“Bal, why bother? Why bother with all the familiarisation crap? We’re demons. We influence people, compel them to do what we want, use them as our little playthings. Why waste time and energy with all that energy reading when there’s no need? All we need to do is fuck them up, fuck them, and fuck off.”

Dark eyes narrowed in on Azazel. “Really? Is that what you really want or is it you thinking that’s what we should want?”

Azazel laughed. “You are kidding me, right? You remember this is me you’re talking to?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Then I think you can answer your own stupid questions.”

“I know this isn’t you. How long are you going to keep up this...façade?”

Silence fell around them, deafening the immediate area. Bright green eyes began to cloud with dark shadows. “That was a whole other lifetime. That person doesn’t exist anymore.”

Balthazar stepped closer, relaxing and softening his body language as much as he could. “Yes, he does.” He pointed his index finger to the middle of Azazel’s chest. “Lucius is still in there, somewhere. Changing names, defying mortality—it doesn’t alter who we originally were.”

“No, I guess you’re right. Our DNA is still the same as it was two thousand years ago. The people who brought us into the world are still dead, and the people we all loved in that life, are still dead, too. Oh, except for the fact they lived their ‘lives’ without a single memory of us.” Losing his grip on his temper, he grabbed his brother’s outstretched finger and yanked on it hard. “So, in a case of nature versus nurture, which matters? The demons we’ve lived as for two millennia, or the thirty-odd years we had as humans—which are only remembered by us?”

Refusing to wince under the crushing grip around his finger, Balthazar decided to switch tactics. “So when I become mortal again, what are you going to do? Just goof around as a solo act? Or suddenly buddy up with Lucifer’s next babysitting job?”

An insidious smile spread across Azazel’s face. “If you’re mortal, and I’m still a demon, what do you think I’m going to do?”

Balthazar narrowed his eyes, veils of darkness turning chocolate to coal. “What are you saying? That if I want to live out my life, like I should have done all those years ago, that you’re going to kill me?”

“Kill?” Azazel chuckled, and with one swift move, ripped off Balthazar’s index finger. “No, kill is too good for you, brother. You’re forgetting all the fun I can have first—maim, torture, disembowel—” he tapped his brother’s temples with his broken off finger “—let alone all the fun I can have in here. For three wonderful months. And then I’ll put you back together, so you can wait for my next annual visit. Over and over again.”

Balthazar gave him a sad smile. “Have you ever wanted something so much you physically ache? Your heart literally feels like it’s going to burst with burning desire. Your insides, deep inside, in the core of your soul, cries to be complete, and sometimes the cries become so loud they send you crazy.” Balthazar felt every ounce of fight leave him as if he were a balloon popped by a needle. “And then the very cause of all that walks right to you—it’s as if the universe has answered your prayers.” He glanced down at the floor, trying to fight back the flood of tears welling up inside him. “She was so beautiful, so thoughtful, caring, intelligent. She was a—”

“SHE WAS MY WIFE!” Azazel roared, grabbing his sibling’s throat. Fury ignited inside him, releasing his demonic form. “She was my wife. And you...—” he gulped back a choking sob “—...took her from me. YOU TOOK HER FROM ME!”

Razor sharp nails dug into Balthazar’s flesh. The soft pink skin broke beneath Azazel’s vice-like hold. Blood rushed to the surface, flowing out in a steady trickle.

“I didn’t want to,” Balthazar said, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean to. I just...I couldn’t fight it anymore. I’m sorry, Azazel. You know I am. I can’t even guess at how many times I’ve said sorry to you over the years.”

“It doesn’t matter though, does it?” Azazel said, his voice vibrating with the threat of a growl. He stuck his face right in Balthazar’s, their noses now touching. “Your apologies don’t bring her back, do they? Nor do they take away the last two thousand years I’ve had to spend with you.”

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