Page 64 of Demon Sworn
William as a manwas dreamy but irritating at best, controlling at worst.
William as a zombie-man-puppy…
So. Stinking. Cute.
His blond hair flops as he chases Jason around in a circle, pausing to sniff the other man’s butt through his pants.
“Mmmm,” he says.
“I ate a sock,” Jason replies. “They smell the best when they come out of the dryer.”
“It better damn well not have been one of mine.” Zolroth sits up a little straighter.
Jason’s eyes widen, and he scurries to hide behind Raz, who is sitting on a couch on the opposite side of the room, face focused on a laptop screen. William’s hair flaps back behind his ears as he follows Jason clumsily on his hands and feet, stumbling just like an uncoordinated real puppy.
I swallow a chuckle.
We’re all in the living room of my demons’ house, and the events of the day still haven’t fully caught up with us. I think we’re all a little bit in shock. Me, because of what I learned and what I did, because of the power that radiates from my fingertips in a flurry of pink and blue. My men, because they were betrayed by some of the only people they considered true friends.
The earthquake—as the officials say—unfortunately claimed the lives of David and the decathlon team, destroying the gym and causing a sinkhole. Actually, the demons’ real bodies were taken to Hell with Lucy, but she was able to create an illusion so the parents would have closure.
Lucy? A big softie, actually.
But there wasn’t much else we could do for those poor kids. Their bodies—according to the demons who quickly broke under…err…torture—had been decimated in the pits of Hell themselves, their flesh stripped away and their ashes scattered in fiery clouds of Hell.
Raz created a couple extra illusions and then helped convince Janie St. James someone slipped her some LSD. So the human loose ends are all tied up. But ours?
I don’t think any of us are okay, but there’s nothing we can do at the moment but pretend. Pretend to not be falling apart at the seams. Pretend to smile, when secretly, we want to collapse in on ourselves. Pretend that blood doesn’t stain all of our hands.
“I still can’t believe it was them. After all these years…” Van trails off, and nobody says anything, but we all agree as a collective sigh travels around the room.
Arariel was so bitter, so furious. She’d yelled at one point, “I was revered in Heaven. You stole that—”
Her inability to take responsibility for her own actions, her own choices, makes me shake my head. My demons may have tempted me into doing things I hadn’t been brave enough to try before. But I’d chosen to do everything myself. I’m now a firm believer that your existence is what you choose to make of it.
If there was one good thing that came out of today, I think it was Zolroth’s sweet confession.
I glance over at Akor, whom Raz forced to shower under a hose in the backyard, which the menagerie loved. He looks the most relaxed out of all of us, slumped over a loveseat, boots propped up on one side, his eyes half-closed. He looks almost gluttonous. He certainly got his fill of pain today. I still remember their screams down in the pit below while Akor played with them, all shrill notes like a violin that has been stripped of all its strings except the sharp, high E string.
And then Lucy had arrived, resembling an avenging angel instead of the Queen of Hell. She’d healed Kastros with just a wave of her hand and explained everything, then sent us all away with a malevolent upwards tilt to her perfect lips. Just before we left, I saw her procure a tiny silver bell from her jacket pocket, dangling from a string she looped over her fingers. A white light had glowed at the bottom of the bell, and I’d watched in fascination as she rang it.
Abruptly, the screams in the pit stopped.
It was entirely anti-climactic.
After all we’ve been through, I thought their deaths would be…I dunno…more drawn out, though I know how that makes me sound. I’m not totally bloodthirsty. But come on, these assholes terrorized us. Maybe I should be grateful that it’s over, that they have finally been punished for the atrocities they committed.
Alanna. Darrel. Tim. Wade. David. My parents. Too many people died. Even William, though he’s standing before us now, shaking his muscled butt in his school pants and beaming.
Jason yanks on his pants and pulls them down, shoving his butt into William’s face.
“Yum. Butt juice!” William exclaims enthusiastically, turning towards me with honey brown eyes. “My favorite.” He then sticks his tongue out to trace up Jason’s crack before Van grabs him and drags him backwards.
“Jason, pants up, now!” Van snaps. “There are kids in the room.”
“Butt juice.” Adam giggles endlessly from where he’s curled up across the room, cuddling Kator. “Butt! Juice! Butt! Juice!” He starts chanting, pumping his chubby fist in the air.
“I like things in my butt!” Jason says just as excitedly, and I swear that William’s eyes darken with heat and lust.
