Mathew leaned back against the worn couch in Isabel's office, his fingers steepled under his chin. Across from him, the imp, lounged on a chair far too large for his diminutive frame, stuffing his face with chips. Isabel stood by the window, her silhouette backlit by the faint glow of the carnival outside.
The air between them was heavy with tension.
"So," Mathew began, his voice low and measured, "we're going to start with introductions, because I'm getting really tired of being the only one here without answers." His eyes flicked to the imp. "You first. You've been living rent-free in this mess long enough."
The imp smirked, brushing crumbs off his mismatched outfit. "Name's Udo, not that it matters much to you, Judgey." He gestured dramatically, chips in hand. "I'm what you'd call a… freelance chaos connoisseur. A little pranking here, a little mischief there. Keeps things interesting."
"And your connection to Isabel?"
Udo shrugged, tossing a chip into his mouth. "Let's just say she and I have a mutual understanding. I don't mess with her carnival, and she doesn't exorcise me back to wherever I came from."
"That's… oddly diplomatic."
"Call it what you want," Udo replied. "But I'm a lot more fun than the average demon."
Mathew turned his attention to Isabel. "And you? What exactly are you, aside from a carnival magician who seems to know far more than she lets on?"
Isabel smirked, folding her arms. "I'm what you'd call… a consultant for the supernatural. I know a little bit about everything. Spells, curses, demons. It's my job to keep things balanced in this world."
"Balanced?" Mathew echoed.
She shrugged. "Let's just say I help clean up messes before they get out of hand."
Mathew exhaled deeply, pressing his palms against his knees. "Fine. Then maybe you can explain this." He leaned forward, his voice lowering. "I've dealt with demons before. Abigail Russo wasn't just an ordinary succubus—she was powerful, almost too much so. Then there's the matter of Belial."
At the mention of Belial's name, Udo froze mid-bite, his eyes widening. Slowly, he set the bowl of chips down and shifted uneasily in his chair.
"Belial?" Udo repeated, his voice lacking its usual humor. "You actually saw him?"
"Yes," Mathew confirmed, watching the imp closely. "He visited me after the trial. Tall, wings like shadows, a presence that made the air feel heavy. He said he was 'checking on me.'"
"Of course, he was," Udo muttered, tugging at his collar. "That's what he does. He's the Prince of Gifts and Deception, for crying out loud. He doesn't just check on anyone."
"Explain," Mathew demanded.
Udo's usual grin was gone, replaced by a rare seriousness. "Belial isn't just any demon, Judgey. He's one of the big ones. A prince of hell with legions at his command. His domain is all about giving people exactly what they think they want, wrapped up in layers of lies so thick, you can't tell where the gift ends, and the curse begins."
Isabel nodded grimly. "He's dangerous, Mathew. He's patient, calculated. He doesn't make moves unless they serve a larger purpose."
Mathew leaned back, digesting the information. "So why would he bother with me?"
Udo exchanged a glance with Isabel before sighing heavily. "Because you're not normal, Judgey. Not even close."
Mathew frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Isabel stepped forward, her voice softer than before. "Mathew, show us the marks on your back."
"So you know about those? What are they?" Mathew asked looking straight at Isabel.
" Just show us the scars, I'll explain later," Isabel said, instructive and curious.
His eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he complied, shrugging off his coat and loosening his shirt. He turned his back to them, exposing the twin scars etched across his shoulder blades, faint but unmistakable.
Udo's reaction was instant and dramatic. He let out a startled yelp, launching himself so high into the air he nearly hit the ceiling. Clutching his chest, he floated back down and landed on Isabel's desk, visibly shaken.
"Those," Udo stammered, pointing a trembling finger at the scars. "Those are not supposed to be there."
Mathew turned back around, pulling his shirt into place. "Care to elaborate?"
Isabel placed a calming hand on Udo's shoulder, steadying the imp before addressing Mathew. "Those marks are… old. Very old. I thought I had suppressed them a long time ago, but apparently not."
"Suppressed?" Mathew echoed, his tone sharp. "What exactly are they?"
Isabel hesitated, her usually confident demeanor wavering. "They're not just scars, Mathew. They're remnants of something you were born with. Something… rare."
Udo let out a nervous laugh, pacing back and forth on the desk. "Rare? Try impossible! He shouldn't even exist!"
"Enough with the cryptic nonsense," Mathew snapped. "Just tell me what I am."
Isabel met his gaze, her eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and apprehension. "You're a nephilim, Mathew. A child born of an unholy union between an angel and a demon."
The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.
Mathew stared at her, his mind reeling. "A nephilim? That's… impossible."
"Apparently not," Udo muttered, still pacing. "Because here you are, in all your brooding, self-righteous glory."
Mathew's hands clenched into fists. "If this is some kind of joke—"
"It's not a joke," Isabel interrupted, her tone firm. "I've known since the moment I met you, Mathew. The way you see through demons, the way you resist their influence—it's not normal. It's a gift, and a curse."
Mathew sank into the couch, his mind racing. "How is this possible? How could I not know?"
"Because someone didn't want you to," Isabel said gently. "Your marks were hidden, your memories altered. Whoever raised you wanted you to live a normal life, free from all of this."
"Normal?" Mathew laughed bitterly. "How could anything about this be normal? I'm a monster."
"You're not a monster," Isabel said firmly, kneeling in front of him. "You're something rare, something powerful. And that terrifies a lot of beings, both in heaven and hell."
Mathew buried his face in his hands, his thoughts a chaotic swirl. How could he, a judge tasked with upholding justice, be part of the very thing he sought to keep at bay?
"I'm supposed to judge monsters," he muttered. "How can I do that when I'm one of them?"
"Because you're more than that," Isabel said. "You have a choice, Mathew. Your heritage doesn't define you—your actions do."
Udo cleared his throat, his usual humor returning in a strained attempt to lighten the mood. "Yeah, what she said. Plus, you've got me to keep you in check. And let's face it, Judgey, you'd be boring without a little chaos in your life."
Mathew managed a faint smile despite himself. "You're insufferable."
"Thank you," Udo replied with a mock bow.
Isabel stood, placing a comforting hand on Mathew's shoulder. "This isn't going to be easy, Mathew. But you're not alone in this."
He looked up at her, the weight of her words settling over him. For the first time, he felt a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos.
But deep down, he knew this was only the beginning.