Page 67 of Soul of a Witch

To my relief, Everly settled down again, laying her palm flat on my chest and resting her chin on top of it, so she could watch my face. Casting my eyes upward, I tried to lose myself in the swirls of carved wood on the ceiling.

“Hell had been at war with the gods for decades,” I said. “We don’t know where They came from, or how They made their way through the Veil to gain entrance to Hell. It’s always been suspected They broke through from another dimension. A predatory species, hunting for sustenance. The Elder creatures were drawn to Them because of the immense magic They contained, and so the gods amassed an army of wretched things. They wanted our worship; They sustain Themselves with the attention and devotion of other living things. But what They wanted above all else was our suffering. Our pain. Our fear. A God is well-fed when It has hordes of other living things in terror of It. But demons do not worship. We do not obey. Our loyalty is to ourselves. So we fought.”

Even now, I could recall how it felt when the council called for warriors. When Hell was threatened, and all we had ever known hung in the balance. Even the Heavenly Host was convinced demonkind had finally met our match.

“That was many centuries ago,” I said. “I was a different demon then. Younger, still powerful, but I hadn’t yet ascended. That’s what we call it when one of us becomes an archdemon. Ascension.”

I’d wanted that more than anything. I’d already spent several centuries hunting souls on Earth, growing my power.

I had hundreds of lovers. I spent my days hopping between clandestine demonic parties on Earth to making my debauched way through Hellish clubs every night. My memories of those days were so faint now. Like a different life.

Whoever I’d been back then had died in the war.

“The fighting went on for years. Every time a God killed one of us, It captured our being. Demons don’t have souls, not exactly in the way humans do anyway. Demons, like angels, instead have an energy that comprises our consciousness, similar to a human soul but simpler. Ourbeing, we call it. The burst of energy that makes us alive. The gods were taking it when They killed us. The consciousness of the demons they killed, were forced into an eternal, spiritual suffering.”

Even now, it sickened me. So many were forced to suffer for so long after death. There was no greater torture for a demon than the loss of our freedom.

“I volunteered to fight to prove I was valiant. That I was fierce and loyal and deserved my ascension. But I watched my warriors die. Dozens of them. Then hundreds. Then thousands. I lost count. I couldn’t remember all of their names, their faces. And fuck, I tried.”

The words grated in my throat, and I fell silent until I could compose myself.

“We were slaughtering Them, but it cost us greatly. We were told the end of the war was near. That the gods had begun to flee from Hell and were instead hiding on Earth. But many still remained, and They were moving toward the High City. Dantalion, the seat of the council, and the Onyx Citadel, home of Lucifer, Bael, and Paimon, the oldest among our kind.”

It choked me how greatly I’d idolized them back then. How I’d longed for Lucifer’s attention, how I’d pushed myself to be even more vicious, more bloodthirsty, more cunning, if only to have his approval.

“I fought that final battle. I positioned myself and my warriors between the gods and the city. We were the last defense. We…were victorious.”

Saying it sounded like a lie.

“More than half of those I fought beside were killed. The demons who fought with me that day were among the greatest of Hell’s army. I’d known them, many of them, for the entirety of my life. We’d marked each other…” Seeing her frown of confusion, I explained, “Demons mark each other with piercings, gifts of metal. To pierce another’s flesh and leave a mark of your affection is one of the greatest symbols of devotion our kind has.”

“But you have no piercings,” she said softly.

Keeping my eyes fixed upon the ceiling, I didn’t dare look at her. To look into her eyes was to see that moment again in all its horror. A battlefield covered by the dead, and in the midst of it all…

“I ripped them out,” I said. “When I found them dead, I ripped out the metal they’d given me. I couldn’t live with the reminder.” But I still had them: the jewelry, the bloodied piercings. I’d carried them with me through all these centuries, hoarding them like a dragon’s precious treasure. “That was where I saw you, Everly, in the morning after that last battle. I’d survived, but I felt dead. You called my name.”

Still, centuries later, I didn’t fully understand it. Demons had never been known to receive visions of the future. We were not blessed with gifts of premonition, as some witches were. Yet I’d seen her, I’d heard her, as clear as day.

“What did I…what did the vision say to you?” she said.

“You told me your name and begged for my help.”

She sat beside me. The blanket was still draped around her shoulders, but I longed for her skin-to-skin contact to return. Reaching out, I wrapped my arm around her waist so I wouldn’t have to go without her touch.

“What kind of help?” she said, picking at her cuticles instead of looking at me. I noticed the redness around her nails; how abused the skin was.

It had been so long, but every word she’d said to me was seared into my brain.

“You said I had to keep fighting. And that you would find me.”

Her frown deepened, and I grasped her hand. Her fingers curled toward her palm, like a frightened reptile retreating into its shell.

“And what was it about me that made you so determined to help that you searched for me? For centuries…” She shook her head, scoffing as if she didn’t believe it, even now.

“It was not merely that one vision that convinced me,” I said. “The day I saw you was the day I lost everything I had left. Almost all of those I loved were dead. The demon I’d been, who could pass his days with frivolous parties, who sought nothing more than pleasure and power, was destroyed. No, I wasn’t convinced immediately. But I swear, you haunted me. Everywhere I turned, I would see your face. In crowds, in dark corners, whether I was in Hell or on Earth. Fate had thrown me a lifeline that I’d refused to grasp, and it wouldn’t stop reminding me of it. I needed a purpose; I needed a reason to live. You gave me that. What else did I have to go on for?”

Her eyes were filled with flickering firelight. She brushed a few loose strands of hair away from my face, leaving her hand there against my cheek for a moment.

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