Page 84 of Two Who Live On

“Yes, our actions draw much attention.” He chuckled, actually fucking laughed like we were having a civilized conversation. “We are having a civilized conversation, Dorian.”

I cringed at how seamlessly he sifted through my thoughts while talking.

“Then show me your true form, demon, devil, fucking monster,” I said, biting back every impulsive thought revealing my anxiety or concern about him rummaging through my mind.

“Mortals so rarely react fondly to a demon’s true form, and I’d rather our time together be pleasant and not filled with fright.”

“I assure you, I’m not like most mortals.” A lie because I was as plain as anyone else. But I wanted to see the true face of the devil causing all the horror. Identify this demon and extinguish it.

“You most certainly are not,” he said. “It’s a fallacy, you know? Your textbook statement earlier. We are not more powerful than demons. Quite the opposite, in fact. Yes, our demonic energy does not become depleted like our demon brethren, constantly needing to feed while tethered to this world. However, when possessing a witch’s body, it limits how much of our raw power we can harness. This witch’s arcane branch makes him more durable, but even limiting my true ability within him, his body will burn out soon enough.”

Demonic energy didn’t dissipate and leak from devils like it did from demons. Instead, it oozed into their host’s body, rotting their insides, liquefying their organs, melting and merging with tar until the devil lost its host body and returned to its demon form.

“How long before—”

“Before this body crumbles and I need to seek another? A month, likely less, given how liberally I’ve been casting my magic. Truthfully, he’s only endured this long because I held back on much casting outside his innate abilities.”

“When you were spying on me, you mean. To what end? Why go through all this effort to observe me?”

“I am a collector of branches; it’s cemented my place among the demon hierarchy and offered me many friends.”

“You have telepathy. Rather strong, too, given how easily you dragged me here.”

“I pulled you here because you didn’t resist. Curiosity for answers, I assume.”

So, he believed my telepathy could overpower his. Nice to know, but it didn’t do me any damn good. Even if I managed to overwhelm his mind and break loose, we’d be right back to standing in the physical world where he had Jamie’s branch to teleport anywhere, a small army of demons roaming the city, and too many unknown branches to factor in.

“Devils are coveted among the demon hierarchy until one attains a proper possession. Our limited casting causes us to burn through hosts quickly.”

“And demons suddenly have a problem killing people? You just jump to another body, right? How’s it any different from demons eating witches?”

“It’s more painful.”

I skirted his surface thoughts, uncertain if he’d left them exposed to lure me into a deeper trap of his mind, he’d unsuspectingly left his guard down, or this was some tragic attempt for sympathy.

Countless hosts leading back to the older gentleman he currently presented himself as flashed in a continuous loop. Not their lives. Not their possession. Not their magics. No, only the moment when their bodies had failed to contain his magnificence.

Magnificence.I could taste the sour note of arrogance in the air.

I bit back repulsion for the word which crossed my mind, but it was his truest belief in those agonizing final moments of each host he rotted away to the point of death. Their death.

Their flesh collapsed, insides spilling out, casting tar onto the ground. This devil wailed in agony each and every time a host body died. Not for their loss—for the pain it caused him as he clawed hisway out, snapping fiendish jaws at lost wisps and demonic energy fading into the ether between planes, desperately fighting to retain his demon form so he didn’t fade into a base beast such as a fiend itself.

It took so much demonic energy to escape the clutches of a dying host body, the devil, in turn, left their consciousness weak and chaotic. Barely more than a fiend and equally as vulnerable. Every time they possessed a body, they risked death with their host body. They risked spilling what little magic they had remaining and reverting entirely to a fiend form.

“As much as I could care fucking less about your pain, I don’t see how any of this connects to me.” I jerked my head back, simmering his empathic extension, desiring nothing he had to offer.

The devil waved a hand, directing my attention to a slithering black wall, revealing body parts evenly divided and distant like a graveyard. A chilling sight. My body clammed up. I wanted to leave this second. Slack-jawed, I studied the horror.

An exposed, still-beating heart filled the bleak darkness. A forearm lacking anything below the wrist or above the elbow. Raw, flexed pink calves. White bones. Legs. Feet. Fingers. Skulls.

Each glimpse made my chest tighten, reminding me my body had ceased to breathe in disgust for what I observed in this private hell. Piece after piece of witch body parts possessing the connection to their given branch magic revealed themselves by the thousands. Though the entirety of their body wriggled beneath the tar containing them, their thoughts buzzed, too faint and obscure, but their consciousness remained locked in this place. Trapped in this devil’s inner core.

“You’re a chimera.” I gasped, finally putting together the specific demon classification to one that could not only devour magics but continuously acquire them for its own use. This one had gathered hundreds on top of thousands. Each victim was too weak to screamout, but their quiet wails sent a shiver through my entire being, almost pulling me from this devil’s mind. I couldn’t leave. I had to know more. I had to know if…

“Quite astute,” the devil said. “Possessing a body limits the branches I can access. There are hundreds of the branches in here I haven’t touched since I first tasted them.”

Ignoring him, I continued scouring the wall of witches. I struggled to navigate through bodies—minds, essence, or souls perhaps—because each piece of flesh left on display represented a witch who’d never found peace. Each a trapped piece of consciousness bound to this chimera as he traipsed about possessing new hosts, stealing new magics, killing more witches.

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