Born Into Punishment - 1. Born Into Punishment

To be born as something undesired. Unwanted. Unloved. It stung. The so-called angels viewed me as an abomination. They created me, yet I knew not of them as a people. All I sought was acceptance. They merely flew away in response, only to return with a hunting party. For centuries, I've walked this cursed earth, praying for a moment of their time. They couldn’t be bothered. The same could be said about humanity. Their fascination had no bounds, and still, with their evolutions, they felt the same; no one shall pass final judgment.

"I have so much to live for," they say.

"Life is beautiful," they hark.

Are they destined to wander aimlessly for an unforeseen quantity of days? I think not.

I can't do the deed myself. Lord knows I've tried, for He's the one stopping me. The moment I place myself in perilous predicaments, the voice comes, "Destiny awaits elsewhere." Each time, my legs have carried me away from death's eager grip: stones, arrows, and bullets passed by. Volcanoes and cliffs failed me. Try as I might, I couldn't succeed in this task.

It led me to ponder, as I've done for too long. What is my purpose– my destiny, as my unwanted protector calls it?

Is this what every one of my kind suffers through? Desolation and loneliness?

Is this what we nephilim drudge through? This must be the reason our existence has been banned for eons. Angels, higher than thou and far above all. Humans, the greatest of the lowly. One would think an absolute law could remain as such. No, the act can be completed without ill harm to either party. The only one subjected to despair is the product. I must stop now, for I'm getting ahead of my own recounting.

To give life and not raise it should be a sin. Mother was slain, so I cannot blame her. Father, he guarded her until his demise, but that's all I can give him credit for. It should surprise no one I called an orphanage my home.

The men and women around me praise the ones up high. Depictions in their media ranged from draped toddlers to stern adults on their television. How wrong they are. Such monsters. They abide by the word of God. Protect humanity at all costs, and never interfere. Nevertheless, the devils and demons of Hell taunt and tempt even the holiest. In hindsight, I should be grateful for the evil underneath the earthly plane. Without them, I wouldn't exist.

But I was left to figure out the world on my own. Every step I take, I’m forced to learn, adapt, and survive. Throw in the fact the angels are out for me…

Talk about being born into punishment.

What year was it again? 2023? Right, three years after Heaven felt the need to put the humans in timeout. This go-round had a different result than they probably expected. Humanity had evolved past its fear of a plague. They’ve lived with the lingering threat of cancer and flu for decades, nearly a century. Get them sick now, and they’ll happily play on their little smartphones twenty-four-seven. Lose the sense of taste from the latest illness? That’ll be the new campfire horror story. The gods and angels need to go back to the drawing board if they want to control or cull their father's herd.

In fact, I’d say they could use a good old-fashioned brainstorming session about how they run things. Joke’s on them; the humans aren’t the only ones who’ve stepped their game up. Leave a nephilim on Earth for a few centuries, and it’ll learn. Hell, I hadn’t felt threatened in almost a decade. No angel in sight for at least two. They should try harder if their goal was to smite their self-made abomination.

Getting off the bus, I shouldered my duffel. Chicago has been nice to me. Traveling between neighborhoods was my proverbial saving grace. It seems to be a city that doesn’t require angelic attention; the people find ways to take care of themselves. They’re tough, but I’ve noticed the aura changing. Too redeeming for my taste. Time to move. Three years was a good run.

I stopped at a bench and checked my money. Just enough cash to get me anywhere in the country. All I had to do was pick a place. California? No, nothing on the west coast. The City of Angels is a misnomer; it should be the State of Angels. They’re crowded in there. Florida might be viable. The faith’s gone, from what I hear. Then again, it’ll be Flint all over again. After years, the angels arrived to save the day. It’s not that I mind traveling every six or eight months, but perhaps I could find somewhere peaceful for a bit longer. I sighed and headed for the closest library. Research was necessary.

The walk was peaceful, for the most part. The glances and gawks were typical to me. Humans never realized what walked past them. They only saw a head of blond hair, a brown beard, blue eyes, and a square chin. Even in a frayed and soiled flannel, I was often described as “beautiful” or “stunning.” Not that I gave them the time of day or a thank you. I never paid them attention. That’s the origin of my punishment; human affection. Why would I respond when they’re half the reason I run for my survival?

A few minutes in the computer lab gave me a few options. New Orleans, St. Louis, maybe?

Las Vegas. It seemed different. Plenty of opportune work in Sin City. The fanatic forums dictated the celestials stayed away. The only negative I debated was the atmosphere. I wasn’t one for parties or crowds. Too many people hindered my ability to feel auras. Moving there would be a gamble. Still, what’s the worst that could happen? I die and finally rid myself of this plane?

So, I bought a one-way Greyhound ticket for the gambling capital. I checked the sigil tattooed on my wrist. It was fading. Surely, there’d be a witch there that could add a layer of ink to it. Resting my head against the cool window, I placed it on my to-do list. There would be much to do the moment I arrived. Verify the aura for angel presence, look for under-the-table work, and search for the smallest apartment possible.

The day-long ride was smooth. There were several stops, and I took every opportunity to pretend to use a restroom and stockpile snacks. Acting like a human was a complete displeasure to me. Angels wouldn’t be alerted, but the surrounding people might become suspicious. Still, I can’t help but be jealous of them. They can roam and settle freely without worrying about a celestial swooping down from the heavens. In return, they live such short lives, face sickness, and watch their loved ones pass as death knocks on their own door. Their existence was sad, but I admired the race through their perseverance.

We arrived at three in the morning, and while several travelers contemplated finding a hotel room, I carried onward. There was too much to do. I needed to be around many people to check auras. One of them was bound to have passed a witch. Then, I could follow the path.

The sights of the Strip were intense. Lights shining all around. Spotlights, LEDs, and changing billboards littered the land. Massive buildings with interesting architecture were everywhere, people strolled the sidewalks, and vehicles filled the streets. It baffled me. At this time, in most of the country, these humans would be asleep or waking up. Yet they showed such vitality and energy. Were they different? Did they require sleep?

It was welcoming, in a sense. I could relate to them. My power allowed me to sense the air was filled with sin. If an angel came here, I’m sure they’d have difficulty breathing. Las Vegas had potential. Could this be a home? I hoped so. First things first, I needed to establish myself. My faded blue v-neck and black pants were not going to impress anyone.

As I walked, something sinister passed me. Something unfamiliar. What was it? Witches gave off a similar aura, but this? This was magnified! Looking around, I tried to discern who it might be when—

My eyes met his. The bulky figure was walking away while glancing over his shoulder. Not a witch. Not an angel. He was something else entirely. Under the city’s glow, his dark hair almost had a red hue. A lesser man would’ve missed the soulless gaze. His eyes alarmed me, but my instincts forced me to follow him. His pale-white skin was radiant and trippy as he moved onward. When he spotted me again, he stopped and allowed me to catch up.

“Well,” he said huskily, “can’t say I’ve seen a guy like you around here.”

My throat dried. He knew I wasn’t human. I hoisted my bag to readjust it. “Same goes for you.”

“Just got off the bus from Fuckoffville? Looks like you’re here to live a new life, am I right Nephy?”

“I think you have me at a disadvantage.”

“If I have a say, it’ll stay that way,” the man claimed with a wink. “But I suppose that’s just bad manners on my part. Name’s Sydemus, and welcome to the city of sin.”

I mustered a smile, albeit a fake one. “Thanks? So, you know what I am. You’re not stabbing or smiting me. Guess that means you’re friendly.”

Sydemus turned intimidatingly. “Seeing how you’re acting oblivious, I’ll assume you don’t know what I am.”

“I don’t,” I answered curtly.

“I’m a demon. Ring any bells?”

Realizing the amount of trouble I was in, I swallowed and responded, “Peliel. My name is Peliel. Are we even?”

His smile returned. “At least you know the rules. Forgive me, I’m a little paranoid about—”

“I’m running from them.” I couldn’t help interrupting. I knew the game demons played. They gave information and expected some in return, even if the other in the conversation was unaware. “I’ve never encountered your kind.”

“Sincere and trusting. Let me get this right. A nephilim waltzes into town, doesn’t recognize a demon by sight and smell, and starts spouting that he’s on the run. Anything else?”

“Don’t play with me. I’m only here to escape. Just because I never met one of you doesn’t mean I’m uneducated.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Sydemus whined, closing the distance and resting an arm around my shoulder. His aura was thick and pressing as he loomed over me. “I’m messing with you. It’s obvious you’re trying to lose the angels. Good news, though. There aren’t any here. Haven’t been for half a century. Ever since the city popularized and became Sin City, they’ve been too chicken to visit. That, and we moved in.”

“You mo—”

His statement hit me. I scanned the people around us. There were many humans, but there were quite a few demons. “This…”

My accompaniment chuckled. His deep voice resonated within my body. “You’re just realizing it, aren’t you?”

A few of the other demons were paying attention to us. Some smirking, some appearing confused. Feeling the air around me, all I felt was excitement, eagerness, and a sense of plotting. I heard chaos. There were no prayers. I’m sure some weak ones were being muttered within the casinos, but they had no substance.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “This is your home. This is where your kind has been for years.”

“Let me show ya around town.”

Sydemus showed interest in my being in Las Vegas as he led me. He gave me the “Demon Walking Tour of Vegas” by highlighting some of the more distinguished places found in Sin City. Some were more important to his race than others. After a while, he ushered me onto the top of a double-decker tour bus. A few demons rose and departed from a mere head nod from Sydemus. Did that mean he—?

"Pay them no mind," he whispered. "Take in the sights. I'm sure you'll fit right in."

"You know," I responded in the same hushed manner, "why do I get the feeling you're treating me like a pet or something?"

"Pelly! I'm hurt." The fiend put his arm against my headrest. "I'd never consider you a pet. Well, outside a bedroom, that is. But here, I'd like to think you're one of us. Nephilim, the spawn of angel and man. You're a hunted race just like me. We're in this together, pal."

I scoffed. "I'm not looking for a handout, especially from someone who played his game upon first greeting."

Sydemus remained quiet for a few seconds. "You're right. Dick move on my part. Maybe I should pass you off to a lower rank who won't know what to do with you."

"Do with m—"

"You're used to being outnumbered by an unknowing human mass. We are in the same boat, and the quicker you realize you're surrounded by other supernaturals, the better." The man's tone was sobering. "If it were any other demon, you'd either kill them, be killed, or be stuck being a trophy in a basement. I see your worth, so let's play along, shall we?"

I licked my lips, nervous about the predicament I found myself in. "Okay, may I ask about my worth?"

He glanced at me. "You know that question'll cost you?"

"I'm sure my worth will be useful to you, so there's my bargaining chip."

"Clever. You're celestial offspring. I imagine you have it, even if you don't realize it."

“What do you mean by I—”

Suddenly, Sydemus rose. "We're getting off here. Unless you don't need a job and a place to live."

The demon had me by a proverbial leash, and a short one at that, so I followed. Just as he claimed, several feeble versions of him had lustful stares. They only stopped when Sydemus placed his hand on my shoulder. We waited at a crosswalk, and I shifted nervously, feeling caught between being uncomfortable and safe. No angels. Plenty of starving spawns of Satan. He walked me toward a familiar-looking place. I've seen pictures throughout the decades, and it was one of my stops for job opportunities.

Caesar's Palace. Why were we going there, let alone inside? The lobby was stellar. Everything was polished and exhibited the finest details life could offer. The demon pointed in different directions, telling me how to find several bars and the casino. "Not that I expect you to gamble or drink," he said with a chuckle.

"I'm not like my father." I didn't mean to belittle him and his choice to bed with my mother. Was it a gamble? He knew the consequences.

"Ah, daddy issues?"

I stood still, my anger barely contained. Sydemus stopped a few steps ahead of me. "My father gave his life to hide my mother. Because of that, I never met him. Don't disrespect either of my parents."

The demon studied me silently. When done, he snapped a finger at his side, and another man approached. "Clothes. Him. Three hours."

"Yes, sir," the man mumbled. He walked away with focus and purpose.

"My apologies," Sydemus claimed. "I carry jokes and quips as if they were knives. If I say one that disturbs you, let me know. I’ll do my best to keep them to myself."

Confused, I wondered how the table turned. I went from taking directives to giving them. My thoughts were interrupted as we reached a door off to the side. We entered a dim warehouse-like room, where two muscular men were waiting. Crossed arms and wearing black, they were intimidating.

"Bosk, Reiter. Back down," barked Sydemus. "And before you start, I was only gone for a few hours. Boys, meet Pelly. He’ll be staying here for a while. Treat him with respect, would you?”

The bodyguards relaxed and nodded, adding to my consternation. What was going on? Why does everyone around here act like Syd—

“You look surprised.” The demon had a smirk as he strolled forward. “C’mon. Until you get on your feet, there’s a small, empty suite next to mine you can crash in. And you’ll start work in the morning.”

“W-work?”

“Yeah, this place could always use another custodian. How do you think this place stays so clean?”

***

Working for demons. It certainly was not in my plan. My rough education about what goes bump in the night gave me a subliminal understanding of demons. Mother had a vague idea when she taught me all those decades ago. Still, I never expected this treatment.

I did not mistake their kindness. They’re still evil, and Sydemus explained it after my first month at the Palace. A casino? In all honesty, evil isn’t the proper word. Foul. Wicked. Vile. Ever since the vast fascination for this city, demons evolved and invested. Hotels, restaurants, and tourist attractions rose from the desert soil. Their goal? To take as much of humanity’s money as possible. It was ingenious. Gambling is one of the watersacks’ powerful vices. The entertainment and food; a human must be pleased with fun and a full belly. When he discussed the speedy wedding chapels, I felt the Catholic community getting kicked in the gonads. How humiliating: to be lawfully wedded by demons monetizing alleged love. Don't get me started with the Elvis impersonations.

Their monopoly over the city was gripping. If a demon didn’t own something, they at least had their claws embedded. That is how I felt, trapped and captive, yet safe and sound. It would be a suicide mission for an angel to come for me. One foot in the building is all it’ll take for them to be at death’s doors. These fancy and minute decorations aren’t for show. There were poisoning sigils hidden within, and powerful ones, too. The designated team monitoring them gets pinged when a man of the cloth enters the gambling floor.

I loathed accepting the offering. This was the first time another has helped me. Sydemus, the floor manager for the casino, took me in and gave me everything I needed without question. In return, I provided dedication in my employment. He provided options. As he initially suggested, I cleaned and tidied carpets, slot machines, and restrooms. It was simple, and I respected the position. Without it, the world would be much dirtier. Doing my part to help felt right, and the pay was appropriate. What bothered me was everyone’s ignorance to prevent such filth. The carelessness of what one has on one's body and where it ends up is disturbing. A simple dropped receipt or butterscotch candy wrapper means a business has to employ another human being to handle such a minuscule thing.

Once I was five months into the job, I awkwardly felt blessed for living with these demons. Unbeknownst to the general public, the basement of the Palace housed the unholy workers in countless tiny apartments. However, I was kept away from there, and I was thankful. Sydemus knew one of the lessers would try something with me, so he provided a small suite on the top floor near his. I was unsure why he put me in a room with a kitchenette; I didn’t need it. Food and rest were a mystery to me. My body never required either.

The racket became unbearable. Sydemus knew how to party. Music, drinking, and copious amounts of sex could be heard from doors down. Still, the man was a leader among his race. A low-ranking one, but a leader nonetheless. He ran the Palace properly, ensuring peak profits. Well, loss for humanity’s sake. Sydemus was careful; the ratio of them winning and losing remained optimal, and he maximized the tourist attraction. The bartenders– skilled demons were masters in the art. The proper pour, the perfect amount of mixer, and the finest of techniques. Only a handful of humans could match their abilities.

I missed it. In the short time I lived in Manhattan, bartending was one of my favorite jobs. It started my admiration for the human populace. Many wanted alcohol to relax, unlike those who drank to forget their troubles. The ones who visited me were there for a great time. They sought masterfully crafted cocktails, and I thoroughly enjoyed my employment. The boom for use of fresh ingredients surged in the passing decade, just as God intended. I was thanked for each glass. I felt appreciated.

One night, I passed the Palace bar with a carpet sweeper. All the stools were occupied, and one of the bartending demons appeared frantic. Watching him, I saw he was the sole man pouring for nearly twenty guests. His white shirt and burgundy vest were tight around his muscled figure. His lengthy black hair was tied in an intricate bun. A knot caught in my throat. Before I thought about it, my feet moved on their own. I stowed my vacuum in a corner and joined him. “What needs to be made?”

The dark-haired man did a double-take, clearly stunned as he pulled the lever for a draft beer. “W-what?”

“Drinks. Name them, I’ll make it.”

His eyes studied me for a brief moment. “Two mojitos and a neat old fashioned. Bulleit bourbon.”

Again, my legs carried me away. Although unfamiliar with the setup, I found myself gliding up and down the space. Confidence coursed through my hands. I danced around the demon as he pointed to the ordering party of three middle-aged ladies. For the first time at the casino, I genuinely smiled. I greeted them and filled my shaker with ice and mint. My fingertips buzzed as if electricity flowed within. Holding the metal container down, I arced the rum, pouring above my head. I stared intently. Not a drop spilled out of place. Ending the graceful pour, I felt the humans’ gaze. They were entranced, just like me.

I shook with one hand as I prepared the Old Fashioned. As I spotted it, the demon slung a small bowl of sugar cubes from across the bar. It slid unperturbed, garnering clamorations from the patrons. He winked as I caught it. My showmanship took over, and I gave him an exaggerated and theatrical eye-roll, much to the humans’ delight. I emptied the mojito into two highball glasses as I poured the bourbon. With garnishes of watermelon and orange slices, I received applause.

But the night had just begun. After the third order from the demon, I earned his name. Vaathu and I worked with synchronized energies. Under his breath, he guided me with advice. In three hours time, another demon approached me from behind. I knew he was one from his aura, but I had no time to see his face. He joined us behind the bar and whispered, “You’re done.”

“Are you replacing me?” I was curt as I shook a Tom Collins.

“No.”

I maintained my smile toward the elderly man who ordered. He marveled as I poured with the shaker on the back of my hand. “Then I’m staying here. My partner’s overwhelmed.”

The demon was silent.

I was only half-listening when a familiar voice asked, “You’d stay and assist someone like him?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” I delicately laid a lemon peel spiral atop the drink, then slid the base of the glass toward the customer before turning to see who spoke to me. “S-Syde—”

The demon, dressed in the sharpest of black suits, merely stared at me. His smirk almost made me feel at ease as he walked away. “Keep going,” he muttered.

***

Four in the morning came, and my body was weary. I spent the entire night behind the bar with Vaathu. Our synergy working together reminded me of the long evenings in New York. What was her name again? Beverly. I’m sure she could handle what we went through. Two other demons came to relieve us. We went through the warehouse door, and Vaathu pulled me to the side.

“Thank you,” he said. “I thought I could handle it by myself, but they were thirsty tonight.”

“No problem, I had fun. Why were you alone?”

“One of Syd’s human hires called out sick. You know how they can get. Diarrhea and all that. I’ll be sure to let Bossman know you’re welcome behind my bar any time.”

I shrugged. “Not sure that’ll happen.”

“Don’t count the sigils. That was his impressed face earlier.”

“Good to know. Can I ask a question?”

He leaned against the wall near the elevator. “Man, you earned three or four after that shift.”

“You seem… different. You know, from everyone else. You’re not giving me lustful or hungry eyes.”

Vaathu chuckled and pressed the down button. “Only the trustworthy ones get to work the bars. I can control myself. Don’t get me wrong, though. I’d love to offer you downstairs for some YouTube and lube, but I—”

I laughed. “In all my years, I’ve never heard that!”

“Years, huh? You make it sound like you’re old or something.”

“Been around for a few centuries.” When the elevator opened, we both stepped in, much to Vaathu’s confusion. “Something wrong?”

“I’m going down. You’re up.”

“Or we could both go up since I can’t go down.”

The demon grinned. “I thought you were part angel?”

Pressing the button for my floor, I chuckled to myself. “How do you think I was born?”

The moment the doors closed, I slinked closer to Vaathu, whose eyes glowed crimson. My hands found his hips. I realized he had a few inches and pounds on me when I leaned on him. Vaathu hummed and breathed against my ear. “Got everything we need at your place?”

***

Having Vaathu’s head on my chest felt nice. His body was warm, and our skins glistened from the distant stove light. I caressed his shoulder, admiring the patchy hairs. He glided his leg over mine, gently pressing his knee against my nether region. “This is nice,” I thought aloud.

“Both this and that,” the demon remarked. “And the thing you did with your pinky. We’ll need to do that again.”

“As long as you sit on my face next time. Loved eating you out like that.”

Vaathu smirked and smacked his ass cheek. “All yours. You earned it after saving me earlier.”

“Never thought I’d hear a demon being so thankful.”

He peered at me. “You really don’t know a lot about us, do you? We can be thankful, and we’re not that evil. Just mischievous.”

The confession seemed genuine, despite him winking playfully. I empathized. I understood what it was to be misunderstood and persecuted for being something you can’t help. We lost track of time as he educated me about his race. The demons were indeed wrongfully depicted in the human world. They lived past lives, although they were destined to never remember the memories. Each of them was born from their sins when they walked the earth. Whether it be lust, gluttony, or sloth, they bared the sin within their personality. Vaathu believed he was created from pride as he admitted his faults– taking on too much responsibility and striving to have his bar be the best in the Palace. With that logic, I deduced Sydemus came from gluttony. His thirst for power and money was blatant.

The thought led to my next question. “Why do you think I’m here?”

“You mean why Syd took you in? Isn’t it obvious?” When I shook my head, Vaathu snorted. “You have something he won’t find ever again. I doubt any other demon leader has a nephilim under their thumb.”

I decided to keep my concerns to myself. What do I have? Some sort of power? Angelic laser beams? Sleep-inducing angel glitter? I was unsure, but the topic provided a new goal. I had to find out why Sydemus took me in. He clearly sees something I can’t feel or know about. Did he know about it when we first met, or has he seen something while I’ve been here? I’d have to confront Sydemus at some point.

“You think a lot, don’t you,” asked Vaathu. He grinned as I peered at him. “Sorry. You have a serious case of resting bitch face when you go quiet.”

“Resting bitch face? Never heard that before.”

“And you don’t get out much? What’ve you done for the past hundred years?”

Pulling the blanket up with my free hand, I sighed. “Not much of anything. I’ve tried to live a quiet life. Kind of hard to do when you’re running for your life.”

“So, you just kept your head down and, like, never learned about human nuances? Do you even know what a dab is?”

“I… A what?”

The demon rolled away, cackling. “Oh, that’s rich! I shouldn’t laugh, but damn.”

Vaathu continued to make fun of me, listing terms I had never heard of. By the fourth word, I patted his head. “I get it. I’m clueless about slang.”

“I’m kidding with you. Aside from your social ineptitude, you’re amazing. I couldn’t imagine running from angels. If I were anywhere else, I’m sure they’d obliterate me or whatever.”

Memories of a few close encounters burned in my mind. The chase in the zigzagging streets of Boston and the spotting in Indianapolis still haunted me. Shivering, I cuddled closer. "They're daft at times, but once they know you're around, the hunt won't end."

"Tell me," he whispered sleepily. Even with his eyes half closed, the demon seemed genuinely interested.

I told my tales for nearly an hour. Strangely enough, the recounting comforted me. The words reminded me of my new home. I had been vigilant in the first weeks. Sydemus insisted angels refused to travel near the city limits. Something about their intervention in demonic affairs would destabilize Las Vegas, threatening to reveal the supernatural world. It made sense, at least to me. If humans knew angels ignored their prayers, the masses would revolt and show their unbridled anger. I scoffed at humanity's need to be appeased.

A snore broke my concentration. Vaathu was asleep, which astounded me. Like me, the demons did not require sleep. I was unaware of their ability to rest willingly. It forced me to question whether I could. Closing my eyes, I experienced a pull toward a welcome darkness.

***

Jostled awake, I was met with a hazy yet refreshing vision. I hummed and licked my lips. Sleep? I could include it in my regular itinerary.

"Good morning, sleepy."

During my yawn, I recognized the voice. Scrambling in place, I realized Vaathu was not at my side nor to be found anywhere in my suite. In the tufted chair near the window sat Sydemus, drinking from a mug. Sunshine cast a silhouette over his face. Judging from his tone, I assumed he was in a cheery mood. "How'd you get in," I asked.

"Perks of being the big man on campus. So, you and Vaathu? Can’t say I saw this coming.”

I leaned over and grabbed my pants. “You could’ve just texted me,” I grumbled as I clothed myself under the covers.

“Nah, didn’t seem fun enough. Besides, we got business to talk about, Pelly.”

Against my desire to have my body showing, I unfurled the blanket and went to the dresser, eager to find a shirt. “Business, huh? As long as I get some info in this exchange. Let’s start with why you’re keeping me around.”

“You deserve a few responses after showing your grace last night.”

Rolling the burgundy v-neck’s hem down, I snorted. “Sorry, no grace here. I take after my mom’s side.”

Sydemus rose and crossed the room, heading for the door. “Oh, you had me fooled for a while. Then you hopped behind that bar and made some magic. Must’ve been amazing seeing how Vaathu wanted some. Jokes aside, I knew you had it in you.”

“You’re…” Consternation had me crossing my arms and I tried to make sense of what the man was saying. “Grace? You seriously think I have that shit? You’re wasting my ti—”

“You were elegant, Pel.” Hidden behind his smile, Sydemus was serious. “I checked on you several times, and you never had a bead of sweat on your face. Your fingers flew and danced, creating art in liquid form. I’ve never seen an angel, but I can recognize one.”

The proclamation sounded genuine. Sydemus clearly believed I had celestial abilities. “But in my bartending? That—” Alarm pulsed through my instincts. “I… I can leave. I don’t mean—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Where’s all this fear comin’ from?”

“I’m. Well, I d-don’t—”

“I get it,” he hummed. “You think because there’s some of Heaven’s juice coming out, you’d be targeted? By us?”

Before I could confirm my thoughts, the demon clicked his tongue and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Listen here, Peliel. You’re not the only one running around without a pitchfork and pointed tail. We’re not the judging kind. We come from the bowels of Hell, so who are we to choose violence based on what one looks like or what one can do? We rely on one another to make this life worth living.”

“Did humanity teach you that?”

I could tell the question hit a sensitive nerve. “Yeah, and I’m not afraid to admit that.”

“So why me? You clearly saw something that night I got off the bus.”

He clapped the back of my neck and laughed. “I saw an opportunity, if that’s your question. A nephy? There’s probably three or four of you running around on this planet. Can’t blame me for taking a chance. You get a place to call home, and I find a potential employee that’ll kick ass and make me some money. Speaking of, you and Vaathu. Consider yourselves bar-mates.”

“W-what?”

“You’re done sweeping floors and wiping knobs. Bosk’s out getting you some dressy clothes for the week.”

I tried to calm myself. “All this because of some stupid grace?”

Sydemus’s smile turned. “I haven’t dealt with angels, but I’m no fool. I know what grace is, and I know what you felt. Pure bliss. When an angel uses their grace, they are in a state of ecstasy, and that shit pours off them like sweat on a sumo wrestler’s diaper. You were happy, and that made my customers happy. They’ll talk about you, which brings in more people and their wallets. Win-win, right?”

“I do what I enjoy while you cash in on it?”

“Nothing’s changed, Pelly. Well, as long as you and Vaathu don’t start fucking on the bar.”

“We wouldn’t—”

“But if you do,” Sydemus said aloud, “I want a cut of the tips. Ten percent, alright?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. The demon left, only to leave the door open. “He’s all yours.”

Vaathu returned, appearing sheepish and sly. “Sorry ‘bout that. When the bossman says wait outside, you—”

Holding a hand up, I sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s okay. So, bartending buddy, want to head downstairs? Show me where the lemons and stuff are?”

***

In the following weeks, Vaathu and I worked alongside each other five nights a week. I acknowledged it was his bar despite his requests to be equal partners. Our synergy became the talk of the casino to both patrons and staff. The demons would pass by as we crafted drinks just to nab a peek. At times, it still felt foreign to me. Working alongside a demon was not on my bingo board. Every passing day, it all became more natural for me, even the nights we shared a bed.

Slowly and softly, my paranoia died. My fear of angels coming was no more. I experimented one morning during a slow hour. Walking in the main lobby, I channeled my love of bartending. Feeling the faint trickle of my grace, I touched a sigil-laden wall. My energy dissipated instantaneously. No angel could dream of infiltrating.

My grace. It was something I wished I had known about all those years ago. Then again, I’m thankful it came to me in the Palace. Whether it would shine like a beacon and alert nearby angels to my location is unknown. Not even Sydemus knew. Regardless, the demon was right; it gave me a clarity high when it activated. My body moved on autopilot, and I felt spent and satisfied after each shift. The smiles I earned with each drink acted as a boost to my power, and fed my grace.

It gave Vaathu something to compete against for his benefit. His skills evolved as he tried to stay on my level. While I glided across the floor, his devilish charms infatuated the filled barstools. I noticed his pride as we shared glances. His goal was to best me– to keep ahold of his status as the main bartender.

When we cleared down and handed the reins to the next shift, we were often inseparable afterward. We’d walk the strip, grab dinner, and spend hours in my suite. Time spent with the demon was never wasted. Often, humanity’s obsession with monogamy came to mind. One would find companionship with another based on mutual interests. Sometimes because they were polar opposites. With Vaathu, we share both of those reasons. I found his demonic history admirable, primarily his sin of pride. From innocent eyes, one could hardly discern his flaws. He loves his bar and will do anything to keep it pristine. Harsh words might be said if a tool was not placed in its proper spot, but I respected the system he created. It runs well under his regime.

Was I falling for a demon? Could my human half be speaking to me, longing for his permanent accompaniment? Did he feel the same? Perhaps not. His species tended to be promiscuous, bouncing from one form of entertainment to the next. Whether it be a hobby, passion, or a warm body, their attention remained adventurous. They sought new. Boredom came quickly. Uneasiness settled inside me every time we lay together in my bed.

One morning, the sun rose, and his skin rubbed against mine. He glanced at me only to rest his cheek against my chest. “Not going to sleep tonight?”

“Too much on my mind,” I admitted.

“Not like you have much to worry about, so spill it. You know I’ll only judge you for a week or two.”

“Funny, but I need to figure it out on my own.”

Vaathu curled closer. His flaccid length pressed against my thigh as he circled my stomach with a pinky. “Oh, come on. Just tell me already. Don’t make me—”

“Nope,” I said, grabbing his hand. I anticipated where it was heading. “You’re not going to tickle me again. And I’m thinking about something serious, Vee.”

He propped himself up on an elbow, glaring. “You’re not leaving.”

The assumption left me backpedaling. “No, it’s—”

“If you are, I’m coming with you.”

“I… You’d leave with me?”

His baleful stare never wavered as he clenched my fingers. “I like you too much to see you off.”

“I’m not leaving, and that’s the truth. I–” Trying to collect myself, I sighed and smiled. “You like me, huh? Guess that saves me from figuring that out.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means I like you, too. I didn’t know how demons handled a relationship.”

Vaathu relaxed. “We typically don’t, romantically. We’ll shack up for a good partnership or something, but I think this is different. I wanted you the moment you saved my biscuits.”

“Saved, or buttered?”

“Especially after the butter and sausage gravy. I don’t know if it’s my sin or what, but I can’t think about you not being by my side, Pel. I like being here. I like being yours.”

“Mine?” The concept clicked. “Your pride. It’s happy because you think you belong to me?”

He nodded.

I pulled him back down and ran a hand through his hair. “I’d rather think we belong to each other.”

As we lay in silence, I pondered my time on this planet. How foolish I’ve been to stand atop mountains and contemplate jumping or causing an avalanche to create my own demise. The spectral voice that commanded my body, did it stop me for this moment? Was this my destiny? It certainly sounded odd. Living among demons and forming a special bond with one seemed unimportant in hindsight.

But then I look at the slumbering man at my side. “Seems worth living for,” I thought.