Orion snorted, as he saw that Len had opened the door by just punching a hole through it. Honestly, why was Hell not better guarded? Should he fix that, later on, as he finally ascended on the throne?
He snorted once more.
Sure, he could fix it. Rule with an iron fist, and then, a couple of centuries later, he would be bored out of his mind.
No, it was better to leave Hell to its state of ordered disrepair.
"His rune was not half bad," Orion said, for Len was the good sort, and let him vent when he felt like it. "I mean, it looked like something a fourth grader would have come up with, but this time he bothered to use his brain. Do you know what he does normally?"
Len shook his head. He did not feel like responding to Orion. What was the point? The man was going to take over Hell by himself, the way things were going.
If he wanted to whine about his crush, then he had the full right to do so.
"Let me tell you," Orion continued, eyes aflame. "There was this rune of his. He was not even thinking about what he wanted, man, can you believe it? I ended up giving him a jungle with fruit and vegetables, just because he was poor like a church mouse. He was amazed by it, he was happy."
Len nodded. He found that proper responses helped in such situations. What else was he going to do? Tell Orion to just swing his crush over a shoulder, and turn him into a demon?
The ice demon was going to do that anyway. Len could see it in the man's stormy gray eyes.
"He was so happy," for a second, Len could almost convince himself that Orion was feeling remorse. A bit late for that, Len thought to himself.
Then again, it was always too late when one started to regret something.
"I got him in a bind. Bailed him out of jail. He was so sick, not in the brain, but snout and fever type of sick. I wiped puke off the floor for him."
Len blinked. Wait, was Orion not hearing himself?
"And not only that, but I watched him sleep. He was so peaceful, even as he made those god-awful snoring sounds, which would have deafened even someone working in a sawmill," Len wanted to ask Orion where he would find such a man to find out for sure, but Orion kept on going, his eyes half-closed. "I kissed him. He was freshly showered, had brushed his teeth. I kissed him, and the only thing I could taste was his cheap toothpaste."
Len shook his head, as Orion licked his lips. Man, the demon had it bad.
Although Len was sure that if he said anything, Orion would tear him apart. So, he just stayed silent for the next two hours, walking behind his liege, as the man complained about toothpaste, of all things.
Oh, to have a soulmate, Len thought, as they finally found the palace of the Second Archdemon of the West, must be nice.
He just sat down, and enjoyed the show, as Orion took his frustration over toothpaste on the poor incubus.
The single black rose into which Orion turned the Archdemon's soul into disappeared.
Len knew where it was now, but he did not say anything. After all, he had watched as Orion had jumped rope with the poor Archdemon's entrails.
He made a mental note not to brush his teeth with cheap toothpaste and followed Orion further into the depths of Hell.
0000
Edwin stared at the black rose which was laying on his pillow. He could feel the soul inside, his exhaustion was calling to him.
If he did not eat this demonic soul, he would need to go to sleep. What was Orion's game? Did he want to drive him into insanity, by letting him do what he wished?
And if yes, then what? What could Edwin do to stop it all from becoming a reality?
He looked in the mirror, noted the dark rings under his eyes, how pale he looked. Not even the rune was doing anything for him anymore.
And he had skipped only one night's worth of sleep.
Edwin snorted, took the rose.
Oh, if Orion wanted to give him gifts, then so be it. Edwin had plans for this soul, and none of them involved him eating it all up.
He placed the soul in a vase under the window, opened the curtains, and bit himself on the wrist.
As his blood colored the delicate black petals, he wanted only one thing: revenge.
0000
Seraphin had always hated his name.
He was born to a woman who had not made it pass his first cry. How could she when she had been foolish enough to marry a demon?
Much to his distaste, she had not blamed him. Had given him a name fit for an angel. An incubus with the name of Seraphin was only one thing in the eyes of his fellow demons: a pet.
Well, Seraphin had always said, as he trained and made his body into a weapon, they could try to tame him if they dared.
He had gone from Imp to Archdemon in only a year. Had conquered the second level of the West part of Hell by himself.
Only for some lovesick ice prat to come and kill him.
He could not understand it. How was this lowly demon capable of unlocking all doors he came across? Who was helping him? The man had only a servant by his side. A demon with tired red eyes.
A Muse, tortured into submission by some mortal or the other.
That was not to say that the demon did not have his uses, or so Seraphin believed. He was clearly a listener, and the ice demon loved to whine about his Lich lover.
Said Lich lover was looking around in Seraphin's mind castle so, as if he could not believe his eyes.
The incubus snorted. What, should he dwell in a corny bedroom with a big king-sized bed big enough to fit his entire harem?
He hated Liches. He hated them because Death loved them.
His entire life he had not wanted to submit to Death. Had fought tooth and nail to never see the man. And now, because of a son of the dreaded being, he had not only met him, but he had also seen him.
Death liked his sons pretty because he himself was pretty. Death had to be pretty, Seraphin supposed, as he tried to shake off the feeling of the man's cold elegant fingers over his lips.
Who would accept the end otherwise? There had to be romance in it, tragedy, and, yes, the promise of seeing one's loved ones once more.
If Death looked like how his soul looked, then the mortals would have found a cure for their state of being already. For Death was black, stank, and not only that, but he had not a sliver of compassion in his tattered soul.
Demons could see souls. Lich too, he supposed.
But to expect that Death would show his true self to his children would be too much to ask for.
The Lich's eyes finally landed on him, a smile bloomed on his lips. A charming smile, a soul which was bordering on becoming gray, but still had enough light in it, for Seraphin to be able to explain the man's reluctance to accept a demon as his lover.
He could see the ice demon's fingerprints on the Lich's throat. A strangulation. Perfect to watch the light fade from your lover's eyes.
He had been defeated by someone who could not even sort out his own feelings…
The marks on the Lich's lips were telling. Seraphin asked himself if the Lich felt his lover's touch even now, as the man was taking over Hell.
"Good day," the Lich said, bowed his head. Oh, so Orion had not taught him anything?
"What is so good about it?" Seraphin owed this man nothing. He was not powerful enough to order him around. If he wanted to eat his soul, then Seraphin was going to do his best to make sure he got sick because of it.
The Lich took a step back, looked around once more. Oh, Seraphin could guess what the man was thinking. All the weapons, all the training equipment. The potential for power was there.
For freedom.
"Orion killed you, didn't he? He murdered me too," the Lich said, calm and so, as if he were fighting with himself to stay awake. "He stole a kiss from me. Has been attempting to steal another for so long now…"
Seraphin nodded. He had figured as much. But if the man believed that he could put the blind on his eyes through compassion and a shared enemy, then he was mistaken.
If he wanted something from him, the Second Archdemon of the West, then he better be ready to pay the price.
Seraphin already had something in mind which he could ask. He was a spiteful beast; besides, he thought that the Lich might even learn to enjoy it.
"But you don't care, do you?" The Lich gave him a tired smile, deactivated a spell, or maybe it was a rune, and Seraphin blinked.
The man should have gray skin. He should have blueish limbs. He should look like death warmed over.
His cheeks were rosy, there were no rings under his eyes. But how could that be, when he had seen in which state of decomposition the Lich had been, just seconds prior?
"You are a demon, no better than Orion," the Lich made a couple of steps towards Seraphin, his tired smile not falling from his lips. "But that is ok. At least you didn't try to put a blindfold on my eyes."
The Lich made a stop before Seraphin, tilted his head a bit lower, just so that the two of them could see each other eye to eye.
What tired blue eyes, Seraphin could not help but think, as those claimed lips pressed against his. He knew that he was being used. Consumed in small portions.
Those blue eyes did not let him take a step back. That lithe body fit perfectly against his.
When he woke, naked and covered in sweat, Seraphin only stared at the empty spot on the bed. The bed he had conjured, for it felt wrong to console those blue eyes on the floor. Demeaning, or better said, a crime.
He chuckled, felt that his mana was circulating better. Oh, he had gone from being an Archdemon to being a ghoul.
For some reason, he could not find enough indignation in himself to care.
As he licked his lips, feeling the ice which he had been tricked into taking into himself, he could not help but smile. The Lich needed a knight in shining armor; Seraphin needed to get his throne back.
But why stop at the West District, Seraphin asked himself, as he dressed himself in silks, when Orion had proven that the world is at the feet of those, who were bold enough to claim it?
As Seraphin exited the rose, he noted the rundown room, the dirty windows, and the stale air. He tsked, got down to work. If he was really reduced to a servant, then he was not going to be a bad one.
Besides, he needed a Queen. The Lich was truly a favored son of Death, if the old creep had let him do something as vile as to bind a demon to himself.
Seraphin opened the window, luxuriated in the cool morning air.
"Close that," came the tired voice of the Lich, as the man threw the blanket which he had been using as a plush toy over his face. "It is too cold."
"Get up and take a shower," Seraphin countered, not willing to let the Lich own him.
Not now, not ever.
And maybe, just because the Lich had been kind enough to sacrifice another Archdemon to make Seraphin stronger, the two of them could make it official?
Seraphin chuckled to himself, as the bundle of clothes appeared at the foot of the bed.
"And get dressed," Seraphin added, glancing at the fine robes, and then back out of the window.
Now, the only thing he needed to do was to figure out what he should do with the vampire…