Fallen Pride - 4. Chapter 4

Every sensation was new. The texture of the wool cloak under his fingers was different from the material of the couch, the carpet on the floor under his feet. As he stood, the pressure of standing on his own two feet was entirely knew to him. Lahja wrapped the cloak around himself, and with careful movements, made his way across the floor. He had no actual destination in mind, which was a good thing, because he moved too slowly to get anywhere useful. Each step brought with it a host of new information, and Lahja couldn’t help himself but examine every single movement, from the beating of his heart, to the pulsing of his blood, the tension and relaxation of muscles and tendons, the motion of his bones moving against each other. Everything fascinated him, right up until the moment when he cracked his knee against the corner of the little writing desk.

“OW!” pain blossomed behind his eyelids, “Fuck!” the moment after he’d spoken, Lahja was appalled by his voice. How had he known what to say? And why had the act of swearing made his pain fade? It was such a degradation of his voice. Lahja blinked hard, wondering why his vision was blurry, and trying to name the hot unpleasant sensation in his throat. He should think of nothing but raising his voice in worship and praise of The Lord, but already his mind was wandering with everything he saw.

“I have always believed swearing is just built in to any creature made of flesh and blood. It’s kind of nice to be proved correct.” The soft voice made Lahja spin around sharply. Instantly he became dizzy, and sagged to the floor. “You’ll get used to it. I assumed you were hungry.” The boy with the wings, the Prince of Hell placed a tray of various dishes and bowls onto a small table. “Eating is one of those things you have to do now.”

“Begone, demon.” Lahja tried to call forth his true voice, the one he had been taught by the Scriptures would make unbelievers and devil worshippers quake and tremor, but it wouldn’t come. Nassau sat in his wing chair as if he hadn’t spoken, and began to tear a round loaf of bread into pieces.

“Come. Sit with me.”

“No!” Now there was another emotion growing inside him. This one felt heavy and dull, and completely overwhelming. Lahja put his face into his hands, and discovered his blurry vision was caused by the water in his eyes once more. He sobbed noisily.

“Wallowing in despair will do you no good at all Lahja.”

“Don’t use my name!” His snap-anger had no effect on the Prince. “Please,” he begged, “just send me home.”

“You are home.”

“NO!” Lahja didn’t have time to be shocked by the rage or power in his voice, because he was on his feet, moving swiftly, and he raised his hand in order to swipe the food the Prince had brought from the table.

The demon stilled him with a look, and Lahja found himself immobile against the force of the Prince’s will.

“Do not make me teach you why I am the Prince of Hell. I could break you into pieces where you stand, boy, and if you make my life difficult I promise I will do everything in my power, which is everything, to make sure you spend the rest of eternity in utter misery.” Nassau’s power slacked off, and Lahja found himself crumpling onto the couch once more. “Now eat something, you need your strength.” He held something out, and Lahja took it unquestioningly.

He gazed at the tray Nassau had brought, and words from the Scriptures unspooled themselves in his mind.

“Loaves and fishes...”

“Yes, I though it would be somewhat comforting.”

There was a long silence, and Lahja considered the piece of bread in his hand. This too, was new, and Lahja didn’t want to acknowledge the body he was bound to by giving in to its needs.

“Please, please send me back. I beg you.”

“Sorry,” with one word, Lahja realised the Prince spoke at least an element of truth, “it can’t be done. Even if I wanted to, you can’t go back. You’re Fallen.”

“But, I can’t be!” Lahja wailed. “I have things to do. A job; I must sing. I have a...” Shai, the shape and tone of the heavenly host filled his mind. Shai wasn’t his anything. The first time he’d reached out to understand the mind better, he’d woken up surrounded by flames.

“Do you understand now?” Lahja had the suspicion the Prince had been looking instead his head again. “You desired another. You raised your voice, not in love of the god you supposedly adore, but in adoration of another. And for that, he damned you.”

“But… I didn’t do anything.”

“And yet it was enough. He is a fickle creature, the one you claim to love so much. One of your earthly compatriots struck a bargain. I made sure my boys stopped bothering his favourite musician, and in return I got the next angel to slip up. I’ve been waiting a long time, Mozart has been playing his songs for your god for over two hundred years.”

Lahja blinked.

“You traded me?”

“Yes. The alternative is worse. The last angel to show a hint of fickleness got a sub-standard body and fifty bucks: he died in pain and his soul was fit for nothing but harvesting for energy. You’re very lucky Lahja.”

“Lucky?” Lahja didn’t like the different way his voice sounded, but he couldn’t control it, “you think I’m lucky? I’ve been kicked out of heaven, abandoned by Our Lord and left to crawl around in the dirt with filthy demons.”

“Yes,” Nassau’s eyes flashed hard and cold, and Lahja was overwhelmed by the power of the storm within him. For a single quaking heartbeat, he felt what it must be like to hold onto so much rage and pain and power. He wondered how it was the force didn’t tear Nassau apart. “It is a life, and it can be a very good one. Take it from someone who knows; death can be much worse. If you prefer, I can send you to the outer circles to shepherd wraiths and dead souls, but I’m sure you’d much rather stay here where there’s plumbing, company, and fun to be had.”

“Fun?”

“Yes, demons do have fun y’know.”

Lahja frowned. He felt the muscles contracting between his eyes, and reached up to touch the skin of his face. The contact sent little shivers through him; it was still so strange to have a body he could touch. Without his permission, the thought travelled south, and Lahja was nearly tempted to move the folds of the cloak aside in order to see what all the fuss was about. Adam and Eve had needed to clothe their nakedness, and humans who gave into their carnal desires to commit Original Sin were damned.

But if Our Lord made humans in his own image as the Scriptures say, then why did he make them with such faults and temptations? Lahja reached out and plucked at the cloth which covered him. He shouldn’t even be thinking such things. It was tantamount to treason.

“What is ‘fun’?”

Nassau scowled.

“He really doesn’t let you guys do anything does he? They told me he was bad, but I never imagined anyone could be more self-adoring than my father. At least he allows his subjects general freedom to do pretty much whatever they want.” Nassau peered at Lahja, and sighed. “Don’t worry about it.”

Lahja ate the bread he was holding. It was a strange thing, to take the object into his mouth, feel its textures against his skin. It had… flavour, soft, strange, and malty. He copied the Prince’s actions, watched the column of his throat as he swallowed, and felt the heavy sinking sensation of the chewed bread sliding down his gullet and into his stomach. As he sat there thinking about it, Lahja realised if he gave into the demands the body made, he was going to become attached to it. And he didn’t want to.

A moment later he wretched, pain shot through him from the pit of his stomach and seemed to hit behind his face. Lahja fell to the floor, shaking violently, and coughed up the lump of bread he had eaten. The taste in his mouth was sharp and bitter.

“Oh dear,” Nassau did not sound cross with him, just sad. He left his seat and laid a hand on Lahja’s shoulder soothingly.

Lahja’s mind processed the touch in stages. He was being touched by another being; a hand, warm, dry, and smooth on his skin; the way his own skin prickled as the nerve endings sought to describe to him the multitude of textures and sensations he experienced. And then an eternity of faith and obedience came crashing down in his mind. He was being touched by a demon, the most unclean of creatures, and he should be revolted.

“NO!” His anger flashed through his mind and across the room. Bright light blazed everywhere, and Lahja let his body go slack in awe and joy. Finally, the nightmare was over and he was being taken home. As quickly as the sensations had come, there were gone, and the Prince of Hell’s private study seemed dark and small after the light of heaven.

“Fuck that hurts,” Nassau stood near him, holding one wrist with his other hand, staring at his fingers. Each joint cracked loudly as he moved it, and as Lahja watched normal colour began to return to the Prince’s stark white hand. “You’re going to have to learn to control that.”

“Don’t touch me!” Lahja cried. He scrambled back away from the figure of the Prince, snatching at the cloak which had fallen from his shoulders, fighting to cover the body he was trapped within once more.

I hurt him. I hurt the Prince of Hell.

“I don’t want to stay here!” Lahja shouted. “You have to take me back!”

“It can’t be done,” Nassau voice was soft as ashes in the rain, “I’m sorry.”

“No!” Lahja didn’t want to hear the honesty in the Prince’s voice, didn’t want to think of the demon before him as anything other than a vile monster from Scripture. “I don’t want you.” Lahja wanted to cry, but as he wrapped his arms over his head, his world exploded in the clear white light which reminded him of home. He didn’t want the Prince near him, didn’t want to be reassured, didn’t want to feel the body around him, didn’t want anything other than to be back in heaven and surrounded by the divine presence. “No...”

“Lahja!”

You have to stop, Nassau’s voice entered his mind in a soft wave. It was like being spoken to by the father Himself. You will destroy yourself if you allow the light to consume you. You must stop.

Lahja blinked, shook his head to remove Nassau’s voice from his mind, and just as quickly as the light had come, it vanished again.

“You’ll need to be able to control that,” the Prince said again.

“Don’t touch me.” Lahja muttered, but Nassau showed no sign of moving nearer.

“If you want to spend the rest of eternity being untouchable, go ahead,” Nassau’s voice was a growl, “but trust me boy, it’s a lonely life.”

“I don’t want to stay here.” Lahja couldn’t name the emotion which spread through his chest, but it ached.

“Clearly. I’m not planning on having you live in my study. I will take you somewhere else, but you’re going to have to learn to cope with being down here now. There is no going back.” Nassau frowned, “Can you stand? Would you like clothes?”

It was the first question to which Lahja nodded mutely. Even though he wanted to hate the Prince of hell, he didn’t. Feeling betrayed by the body his mind was leashed to, Lahja followed Nassau from the room.

*

Sitka stopped so suddenly that Shindae walked smack into the back of him, and ended up with a twisted horn to the face.

“Fuck’s sake Sitka,” Shindae rubbed his bruised jaw and glowered at the back of his scavenging partner. “Get a move on.”

“That’s a new door.” Sitka’s voice was flat and confused.

The fire demon stepped sideways on heavy cloven hooves and followed his friend’s gaze. He walked down the main corridor of the house every day, they all did, and Shindae knew he wasn’t the only one guilty of letting the familiarity of where they lived pass him by. It had taken most of them a few days to realise Kiaza and Jem’s room had been new, and Shindae knew whole groups of demons who had passed by Snakes and Snakes a bunch of times, but then were surprised when told it was a recent addition to the scenery. Now he tried to really look at the door which had made Sitka stop dead.

“Is it new?”

“Shindae, look at it. It’s white.”

“Hey, maybe it’s the new bathroom!” Shindae grinned. “You know Atoki went to bother Kiorl about it?”

“The boy’s got stones, I’ll give him that,” Sitka smiled, “it’s a pity they don’t share.” The horned demon put his head on one side and grinned. “C’mon, let’s check it out.” He reached for the handle, then stopped. “It’s locked. Like, magic locked. I can’t even try to open it.”

Shindae wrinkled his nose in displeasure. He wasn’t a great fan of magic. Unlike his elemental power, it could be used in strange and unexpected ways, and was much harder to predict. Magic meant someone powerful had a hand in the creation of the strange, pale white wood door.

“There’s nothing to be gained from fucking with shit you can’t explain,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “Let’s go. We’ve enough to do without being late. And I for one am not getting bumped down to patrol like that idiot Shax. I can’t believe he lost a portal stone.”

“He said it was stolen,” Sitka grinned at they reached the grand staircase.

“Like anyone could steal off' a fuckin’ shade… he’s gotta learn to lie better.” The two scavengers departed, leaving the new door behind them, unexplored.