Fallen Pride - 11. Chapter 11

He had just started becoming used to his senses, to the wills and whims of his body, and the glorious wealth of information it gave him. Lahja hadn’t actively thought about breathing in many days. The shock of having it all stripped away in a single heartbeat made the fallen angel want to take back everything awful he’d said before about not wanting the body Nassau had chosen for him. He screamed, but he couldn’t find his voice, or his throat, or his lungs. He couldn’t find his body, the textures of clothes on his skin, the vision from his eyes. He wanted to blink, to open his eyes. But there was nothing but blackness.

And pain. Pain like no other, every nerve and synapse and fibre of his being dragged through fire, across hot coals, raked by claws, and torn to shreds. Lahja spent a precious thought on hoping Kiorl was suffering similarly, then wanted to take it back, because he hated that anyone else would have to undergo such torment.

Still, his inner voice said gently, strangely calm despite his impending doom, it would be nice to have company.

“Lahja!” It was Kiorl’s voice, loud and desperate, like he too was in pain. “Lahja!”

He cast around for the voice, but all was darkness. Then a hand, a velvet furred texture he recognised, gripped the back of his neck. Lahja struggled, pain warring with the new sensation of being held, and he felt the light pushing out from under his skin before he was even aware it was happening.

“NO!”

Kiorl’s shout was loud in his ear, and then the darkness was being pushed back. The demon let go of him as the light of heaven glowed and grew, battling the inky blackness, and filling Lahja with a sense of peace and contentment. In that second, the pain was gone, and Lahja closed his eyes against the brightness which consumed and surrounded him. He lifted his voice to praise the presence of his Lord. For a moment, the whole world was nothing but the brightness flooding everything in the void with its intense and amazing glory, and then it was gone.

Lahja screamed into the infinite darkness, the pain welling up as all his senses sent back nothing but emptiness to his mind. Then hands were grabbing at his clothes, pulling at him. There was warmth on his face, Lahja turned towards it, and felt soft lips brush against his own. Startled, his body sending pleasure coursing up unused nerves, he went slack against the touch, and then with a lurch, he and Kiorl landed in a grassy field.

The fallen angel didn’t move, his body sending him far too many signals to concentrate on, too many new sensations for his mind to deal with all at once. Small pieces of knowledge came to him in flashes, almost without the realisation he’d not known them before: the surface underneath him was new, and something called grass; there was a sky above, and it was blue; Kiorl was with him, holding him close; he was comfortable tucked within the curve of the demon’s body; a breeze blew his blond hair across his face; there were humans close by, their souls fragile flickering things walled into their bodies like smoke housed in a glass; Kiorl’s short fur was soft on his skin, more so than he had ever imagined.

I hadn’t ever imagined, Lahja told himself sternly. The angel moved out of the demon’s embrace and sat up, holding his head in one hand. His vision was purple and skewed with the after effects of the light which had poured from his body. Why did I do that? I didn’t want to hurt him.

Because he’s unclean, and a demon. Demon’s shouldn’t touch an angel. Even in his own head, Lahja could taste the flavour of the untruth in his words. It only served to make his headache worse. He groaned gently, and something deep in the pit of his stomach stirred at Kiorl’s answered noise of relief and pain.

“You shouldn’t have touched me.” Lahja selected his words carefully, not wanting the big demon to get up and go stalking off and leave him there. “I didn’t give you permission.”

Kiorl shot him a glare, and Lahja had the faintest idea how his own eyes might look if he was angry.

“You’d rather I left you in the infinite blackness of The Way forever?” he snapped. “You were the one who went rushing into something you didn’t understand.”

Lahja snarled, but he didn’t miss Kiorl’s blink of surprise at the noise.

And you were wondering what you’d look like if you were angry? His inner voice mocked. He brings out the worst in you.

“And who’s fault is that? You kissed me!”

“And I am reminded everyday of what it cost me!” Kiorl’s voice was a low growl, his tone tight and full of an internal rage which made Lahja quiver where he sat. Kiorl pulled himself up, settled his clothes and hair with a quick shake of his body, and turned to Lahja. The side of himself he presented was not the one which Lahja had marked with his slap, and the young demon wondered for a moment if it was deliberate. No one else had been permanently marked by Lahja’s light, but then, he hadn’t been that angry with anyone else since he’d awoken in hell. “C’mon. No point coming all this way to have a fight we can have back at the house. This way.”

I wonder what it would be like if we didn’t fight… Lahja was thankful there were no empaths around to eavesdrop on his thoughts, and kept the half-wish to himself.

Kiorl lead him through the green space he described as a park, and across a road where things came hurtling towards them at immense speeds. Kiorl didn’t look or pause as he stepped across, and it was only when Lahja saw one of the metal beasts pass directly through him, that he realised their presence in the world was not governed by exactly the same rules as it was in the world below. As Kiorl paced up a set of wide stone steps, Lahja paused, staring up at the structure with wonder.

“This… this is a house of God.”

“Ha!” Kiorl’s laugh was a bark. “Funny thing to call it. He’s never here. Your ‘god’ can no more leave his realm than Jem or Nami can leave hell. He wanted everlasting glory and adoration, and in doing so, he built himself a prison.”

Lahja frowned. Of all the people who had told him things which conflicted with the Scripture he’d been brought up on, Kiorl had spoken in the most offhand and disrespectful manner. He took no consideration that, not long previously, the suffuse love of his God had been all Lahja had ever known. But Lahja knew, and hated that he knew the black demon wasn’t lying.

“How do you know so much?”

“I’m older than I look.” Kiorl grinned, his usual snug confidence back in place. “Let’s go.”

The church was not empty, but the few people scattered in the pews paid them no heed at all. There was a priest in long robes, lighting candles on the alter. As he turned, nether of the demons missed the sly smile which spread across his lips.

“Why are we here Kiorl?”

“Nassau wants me to show you what we do, and what we do is collect souls. Souls are energy, life force, we use them to make wraiths, grow crops, fuel the fires which burn around the inner circle. Sathriel loves to make magic from souls, he likes the screaming, but Nas, Kiaza, and I have other methods.” Kiorl fiddled with one of the pouches as his belt, and handed Lahja a small glass shape, uneven and lumpy, half clad in rough leather. It fitted easily within his fist. “A Reliquary, a container for holding souls.”

“But, he’s a priest. A man of God. Why do you want his soul.”

Kiorl sniggered.

“We’re not here for him. We don’t need to take his soul, he’s already ours.” Kiorl saw Lahja’s expression of shock, and rolled his electric blue eyes. “Humans lie, some of them very well, but I can see his soul, and I know he’s been stealing off the collection plate and cheating on his wife with one of the parishioners daughter’s. He’s ours already, her too. We’re here for him.” Kiorl directed his attention to a skinny, scruffily dressed figure at the edge of a pew. “Poor little abused creature, just my favourite sort.”

“But…” Lahja was still staring at the priest, and reached out, his hand stilling Kiorl’s movements. “How can you know all that? You’re not an empath as well?”

Kiorl gaped at him, and everything Lahja found terrifying and awe-inspiring about him was stripped away. He looked, despite being a demonic cat walking on two legs, like any other young man.

You’re touching him, Lahja’s inner censor reminded him crossly. Quickly, the fallen angel flinched and moved away, and the spell, whatever it was, was broken.

“No...” it seemed to take Kiorl a long time to recover. “I’m not an empath. I can see all that in his soul. You can too. You just have to know how to look.”

“But, how?”

Kiorl directed his attention to the scruffy figure he’d indicated earlier, and moved around to stand behind Lahja.

“Close your eyes.” he commanded softly. Lahja did.

Why are you doing as he says?

I’m learning. Like Nassau wants me to. Lahja sighed his reply.

But why? You should be trying to get back to heaven.

Lahja shrugged off his inner voice, and when Kiorl breathed against his ear and neck, his skin prickled in a manner which was new, and interesting.

That’s a sin, he thought as the warm sensation from before began to rise in his belly. It must be.

But it’s so sweet, his inner voice mewled.

Ohh…

“Now, open your eyes and look at him,” Kiorl purred. Lahja responded, but nothing was different. Just as he was about to say so, Kiorl spoke once more. “Again. Open them again.”

Afterwards, Lahja couldn’t describe how he’d done it, but it was as though another set of eyelids had been peeled away, but from his mind, and he’d been able to see what had been hidden before. The figure was still there, but his outline was soft, his colours dimmed, and the wavering fragile shape Lahja was looking at was his soul. The angel pressed fingers over his mouth, because he wanted instantly to go to the poor creature, and comfort the hurt he could see as plainly as if the boy were bleeding in the front of him.

“What do you see?” Kiorl whispered.

“He’s in pain.”

“Yes.” Kiorl’s single word was laced with his smile, and Lahja shivered. He didn’t want to think someone being in pain could give pleasure to another.

And yet, didn’t you want Kiorl to suffer the pain you felt in the portal? Lahja wanted to growl at the voice in his head. And even Tobias likes pain, he must, or he wouldn’t be covered in so many scars.

The angel shook himself to dispel the voice, instead concentrating on Kiorl’s soft whisper in his ear. The big demon was standing so close to him, they were very nearly touching, but Lahja didn’t want him to move away.

“He is broken and weak, but his soul still fights. He has come here seeking answers, forgiveness, redemption, justice… he wants to know his suffering has not been in vain.”

“Has it?” Lahja couldn’t help but ask.

“All suffering is in vain Lahja. No god gives blessings to those who chose to ignore the richness of life. Why reward the ungrateful?”

Again, Lahja knew the words Kiorl spoke were true. There was no hint of the hated pressure he felt in his mind when someone lied to him.

“And what will you do?” Lahja whispered carefully.

“Like a fruit which is too ripe.” The big cat moved away from him with a grin. “I will apply pressure to the tears in his being until he rips himself asunder. Watch.”

Kiorl walked away from him, but as he moved, the demon changed, subtly and without fanfare, becoming somehow more human. It wasn’t like Kiaza’s miraculous transformation, or the blink fast way in which Tobias could change his entire shape, but as though Kiorl had dressed himself differently, in a manner which hid his true shape and intent. By the time he reached the boy, Lahja knew if it hadn’t been for the fact he had watched it happen, he wouldn’t have recognised Kiorl at all. Gone was the dangerous, evil predator, gone the aura of power and magic: instead Kiorl was beautiful, gentle, kind, angelic.

Could he be like that all the time? Lahja wondered privately.

Lahja didn’t hear what the boy said to the demon, or what Kiorl said back to him, but when they stood, and moved down the row of pews together, Lahja followed automatically. Kiorl led the boy into a little room. It was a place filled with the junk of living, even in a place as holy and clean as this one. The human was hopeful, even from a distance Lahja could see it in his expression, and his soul seemed nourished by Kiorl’s presence. Lahja couldn’t see what good such actions could possibly do for Kiorl’s main aim.

Kiorl chuckled and bent his head, closing the distance between himself and the boy, and then he grinned.

All at once, the glamour fell away. Everything Kiorl was; big, dark, demonic, evil, powerful beyond imagining, came rushing at the boy even as Kiorl’s lips touched his own. His scream was high and loud, and Lahja clamped his hands over his ears at the noise which wound it’s way up into his skull and made him wish he could remove his brain somehow. It lasted a second, and then the human was bleeding all over himself and Kiorl, his throat lain open by Kiorl’s long bladed knife, and the demon was holding the little Reliquary close to the boy’s still open but silent mouth as the shimmery incandescence of his soul was collected.

Kiorl stepped back with a self-satisfied sort of smile, and Lahja hit him.

“Ow, fuck!” Kiorl’s blue eyes met his own with a vicious glare. “What did you do that for?”

“You kissed him!” Lahja snapped. “You killed him!” he followed, in exactly the same tone. He blinked hard, then turned on his heel, and raced from the room, the church, and back to the little green space when he and Kiorl had arrived from the portal. Kiorl was directly behind him, still dripping the human’s blood. “Take me home!”

“No. Not until you explain yourself,” Kiorl barked, “I am a major demon, second to the Prince of hell. If you do that again, and in front of people who matter, I will be forced to punish you.”

“Nassau wouldn’t let you,” Lahja countered, but his voice gave away his uncertainty.

“Don’t count on it.” Kiorl growled. “Why did you hit me?”

“I-I-,” Lahja didn’t know if he could lie, but he also wasn’t entirely sure why he’d hit the other demon again. “I didn’t realise you would kill him.”

“To take his soul? I had to. You can’t live without a soul.”

“So… you have a soul?”

Kiorl’s smile was soft and genuine, even though his dark fur was slick with fresh blood. He rubbed a hand across his neck and bare chest, tutting at the state of the buckles in his leather straps.

“I’mma have to wash all this… Yes, I have a soul. So do you, and Nas, and even Sathriel himself, in defiance of popular culture.” Kiorl shook gently the little glass vial. “And a good soul too, very nice indeed. Kinda sparkly.”

“But… What did you do to him?”

Kiorl shrugged, as though it had been nothing

To him it isn’t, Lahja’s mind reminded him. This is his job after all.

“At the moment when he truly thought there was good and hope in the world, I showed him what I was, and the force of the realisation sent him mad. His mind broke away from the tether of his soul, and I took it, and killed him.” Kiorl tucked the reliquary back into one of his pouches. “There are as many ways to take a soul as there are demons in the inner circle. You’ll find yours no doubt.”

“Oh...” Lahja bit his lip, wishing he could keep from asking the question in his head, but he couldn’t. He hated that he wanted an answer. “Then why did you kiss him?”