Chapter 28 The Devil
Her whole life has led her to this moment. Has made her ripe for the picking. If it’s love and attention, understanding and appreciation that she wants, I’ll give it.
When I search for her mind, I find it open and happily dive in. I drag her down to hell – her spirit, at least – leaving her body hollow for a moment. Her brown eyes bulge as she stares at the visage I’m happy to wear.
Suriel – my version of him, anyhow. She squirms as my hand brands her throat in a collar she’ll never shake. I chuckle in his voice. “You wanted me to fall. Here I am in hell for you, Charlie. Is it enough?”
Gasping and tearing at my hands, she tries to wheeze out an answer. I drop her and watch thick, rusted chains constrict around her, holding her in place as I kneel between her legs.
I slide my hand over her flat belly. “Isn’t my adoration enough for you? Do you want to replace God and be my Goddess?”
“N-no,” she whimpers as her hair starts to burn.
“Oh, you do,” I croon, crawling over her and prying her head from the ground so she can’t look away. “You, some lowly human that no one can love, cost me, an archangel, my wings, my divinity, Heaven itself, but you still want more.”
She freezes. A lie wrapped in truth is more convincing. It just helps I know exactly what she expects to hear, too. I nod and lean towards her, feeling her lust bloom deep in her belly. She wants Suriel, even half burned, even reddened with flames, even vicious.
I’ll have to kill that desire myself.
I tug the ‘earring’ he keeps in his ear and show her the flaming sword, putting it at her throat. “You’ll ruin me and humanity, but I know what you really want. I touched you and felt it. You want to die. I should kill you and be done with it. It’ll stop the whole apocalypse.”
“No,” she rasps.
“It’s true. You’ll get angrier, you’ll burn everything my loving father built. And, let’s be honest, now that I’ve had you … what else do you have to offer?”
“S-stop!” She yells, then shoves me. The sword goes out and she stares at it.
That’s right, baby. Realize your power. Realize what you’re capable of.
“Come now. You tasted my halo. You corrupted an angel. You could’ve been salvation, but you’re letting it all go to shit because you won’t obey.
You used to be so good at it,” I purr before licking her cheek and whispering in her ear.
“You welcomed the salt down your throat to avoid the taste of those men. You stayed quiet, like a good girl, watched Jesus while they tried to purge you of sin. Where’s that decadent, obedient girl that an angel might enjoy? ”
Tears carve a clean path down her face. She’s caught between fury and utter despair. “Stop. St …” she pauses, then looks into my eyes. “You …”
I sigh, sitting back and running the blade over her chest, carving an inverted cross there. “You’re a ghost. Passive, weak, unable to make a choice for yourself. God gave you so many opportunities and you kept running to others to solve your problems. The police …”
“No!”
“People who obviously didn’t care about you-”
“I was a child!” she screams at me before bucking me off her.
For one moment, I’m shocked she’s able to, in the next, I recognize something deeper. Something more powerful: rage.
“I was a child. I had no one. God … God is a plague. God is a man who thinks everyone has his abilities and then curses them and vilifies them if they do what it takes to survive,” she snarls.
“Sounds like you don’t like accountability, Charlie. Blasphemy is easier, isn’t it? Rebellion and hell are so much tastier than holy communion. Maybe you need another exorcism,” I hum.
Her face goes white as she relieves it. The hunger, the thirst, the agony on her body. The stress tearing her apart as much as the restraints. The shouting and sobbing until she felt insane for thinking that the others were crazy. The need to eat bugs just to survive, then be hit for it.
While she’s trapped in her own memories, I stand, back away, become myself, but hazy, just out of focus no matter how hard she squints. I kneel by her and stroke the chain around her throat, letting her breathe fully.
She gasps and looks at me, hair a burning mess, one eye red from blood that’s seeped into the sclera.
I soften my voice. “My darling girl.”
“Y-you,” she chokes out.
“Me,” I agree. “Here to help you be all you can be.”
“I’m … I’m useless. I’m just … I’m human,” she whimpers.
“Being human isn’t weakness,” I soothe, freeing her from her other chains and pulling her into my embrace. I feel something weaken in her as her mental walls burn under hellfire’s reign. “You’re free to choose. Embrace what you’re meant to be, Charlie.”
She looks up at me. “Who are you?”
“The man they all choose to blame. The man who’s forced to punish those that choose to be free of the cycle. A cycle only you can break.” I brush her tear away. “Now, claim what you’re owed.”
“I … How?” She asks, another crack in that lovely, but pointless armor she crafted.
“You have power that God can’t control. He wants you locked up and manageable, just like me. Feel the power burning deep inside you,” I say with the warmth only I can give her. “You’re fit to rule, to protect and punish in the same breath.”
“Some deserve punishment,” she whispers.
“For their lies, for their manipulation, for every violation they were able to get away with, every pain they caused. You don’t owe God obedience or loyalty. You don’t owe humans forgiveness or understanding. You only owe yourself,” I emphasize the word.
The red in her eye spreads, then goes black.
There’s my girl.
“I want to support you, Charlie, to lift you up. You’ve endured pain and humiliation on earth.
You’ve suffered enough. It’s time to rise like the phoenix you are, with legions behind you.
All you have to do …” I help her stand, keeping her hand.
“Is take the first step. Willingly, knowing you only owe and serve yourself.”
She blinks slowly, crying, then opens her eyes.
They’re both black. The veins around her eyes show the blackness spreading in her. The scar I’ve left on her chest pulses and burns with my old divinity.
“Nothing can stop you. The angel can’t corrupt you with biblical lies. I cannot command you. You are your own – A walking embodiment of true freedom, not bound in fine print.”
“Charlie!” Suriel screams, but she can’t hear him around the symphony of Hell’s suffering.
“You’re meant to be adored, not loved. You’re meant to be feared, not desired. You’re meant to be respected, not understood. Break every chain that holds you, that’s kept you obedient and kind and told you that you’re not enough. Break them and choke those who put them on you,” I encourage.
She looks at me. “Are you …”
“I’ve watched you, loved you, rooted for you. You’ve never failed me. Don’t fail yourself either,” I say, letting her see all of it in my eyes, letting her see all of that fatherly love she’s craved, that sympathy she’s yearned for, not hiding that I can look at her and enjoy what I see.
Then she fizzles away, falling back into her own body.
Hell shudders and trembles as the pressure increases. My smile grows and I roll out my neck as my healing wings test their merit against my scarred back.
“Prepare our legions,” I order while glancing up at a large crack in the ceiling, letting in a hint of light and the scent of freshness I haven’t known through my own form in centuries.
Suriel thinks he has Charlie back.
I hope he enjoys resurrecting the woman she’s meant to be.