A forced introspection
“What did you do?” Victoria asked.
Nathaniel turned to see her sitting at the head of the table. It was only then that he noticed he had company. Victoria’s guest looked far more demonic than anyone he’d seen so far, with two pairs of horns crowning her head and entirely black eyeballs.
“Zea looked upset,” the guest remarked, her voice deep and guttural, sending shivers up his spine. The crown of horns varied in size, sharp enough to cut, on a perfectly bald head. She spoke and her fangs glinted, far more threatening than Victoria’s. All her teeth were dangerously sharp.
“He’s been upset for years,” Victoria explained, a half-shrug on her shoulder. She sat with her spine perfectly straight, elbows resting on the table, hair spilling over the neckline of her dress. It looked nothing like Charmaine’s. “But last night he seemed to finally have come around. What went wrong?”
A weight settled around Nathaniel’s heart. “I’m not sure. A lot’s happened; there’s just too much between us to process in a handful of days. He might’ve made an exception last night, but I wouldn’t expect him to suddenly act like everything’s fine.”
“You seem to be handling it well,” the guest teased, a glass of wine in hand, contents swirling around.
“Of course he is; don’t play coy. He’s one of us,” Victoria scoffed.
“What do you mean?”
The women stared at him, a pointed look in their eyes.
“You’re a different kind of celestial, Nathaniel. The rightfulness within you is stronger than most. We know you’re a great warrior, but that’s not why your name has traveled across The Abyss—we admire your steadfastness. You’re headstrong and resolute; nothing can persuade you. You were wealthy in Paradise, and you’re still wealthy in The Abyss, even if the currency has changed. You’ve transcended value.”
If what she claimed was true, then the massive difference in treatment between him and Zea made perfect sense. Zea had no name, no reputation; to every demon down here, he was just another unfortunate soul to play with. Nathaniel, however, was different. From the soldier at the military base to the shopkeeper to the barman at the tavern, the level of respect they’d treated him with, in retrospect, had been absurd. Even before the transformation, they had answered his questions and given him service.
“How does that equate us?” he asked her, a repulsive taste in his mouth. “We’re not the same at all.”
“No, we’re not the same, but we’re different in similar ways. That’s why you’re already settling matters with Paradise despite only being here for a week. Do you know how long it takes a regular soul to come to terms with their surroundings? You’re on a completely different level.”
“What’s your point?”
Victoria shrugged faux modestly. “I’m just saying you have a lot of potential to do something great, make history. You’ve done it before; do it again.”
“Is this about Blaz?”
“He could be a start. I just think you’d have a great future in our company.”
“You’re not in the company.”
“No, but I’m still a princess of The Abyss.” With a disingenuous smile, Victoria sipped on her wine, red eyes perfectly trained on him.
He didn’t trust her. Actually, he didn’t trust anyone he’d met so far, and this conversation only proved what he already knew, that he should never take the deal. Sure, Victoria and the others could ruin Blaz just like they’d ruined him, and probably many others too, but there was an undisclosed part of this agreement that he didn’t trust. It’d bind him to it in some way, and the fact everyone involved refused to bring it up made him believe that, if he knew it, it’d be an instant rejection.
Placing the glass back down, Victoria motioned to her guest. “This is Seraphina, Striker’s counterpart.”
The Princess of Chaos, then.
“Whose counterpart are you?” he asked, holding Victoria’s gaze.
“I’m my own woman, Nathaniel; one of a kind, just like your dear Charmaine. I don’t like to share.”
He doubted that.
“Do you miss her?” Seraphina asked, her voice even lower than before. He felt his pulse skip.
“I call her every day; why should I miss her?”
“Your friendship is something of a public speculation,” Victoria explained. “I don’t know how much you guys know about us, but we know a lot about you.”
“We don’t speak about you at all.”
“Right; you’re too good to care for the ones below. Well, Paradise is better than reality TV for us. I was certain you’d get with Charmaine before falling.”
“I never thought you would,” Seraphina nonchalantly cut in. “You’re not her type.”
“I think you are, or that you could be. You get along so well; I thought you two were in love.”
“She works with me.” Offense seeped into his voice.
“Worked,” Seraphina corrected.
“Whatever. I don’t love her like that. What we have is far more meaningful than you could possibly imagine. She’s more than a friend to me; she’s taught me everything I know about Paradise. She guided me through every step of my role as a Representative. She’s my family.”
Victoria rolled her eyes. “So she’s everything to you, but still not good enough to have you. Make it make sense.”
“Sometimes, love is unconditional.”
“Does that make Zea’s love conditional?” Seraphina asked.
“You’re making a comparison that doesn’t exist. Zea’s a different story.”
“What’s his story, then?”
“I know it,” Victoria cut in, a smug look on her face.
“Tell us, then.”
This would be interesting.
Victoria placed her glass back on the table. “You two met in the army. You were strong and won all the matches; Zea was fast and won all the races, but who was the best of the best? No one could decide. It was the sort of rivalry that started very seriously, but as time passed, you got to know each other better. You became friends. Now, I don’t know what you did, but you had Zea wrapped around your finger. He said you two were inseparable, that he couldn’t imagine life without you in it, because you were such an important part of it, but we all know that sentiment didn’t go both ways. You made him eat off your hand, so he’d feed you all his secrets, until you had enough evidence to convict him. If you got rid of your only real competition, then the throne would be all yours.” She shrugged, a matter-of-fact air about her. “If I’m wrong, please correct me.”
“No, you’ve pretty much got it,” he lied. His tone was light and careless, masking what rushed beneath. The sentiment didn’t go both ways—did Zea still feel that way? His throat closed. “I loved him and then betrayed him.”
“Did you really love him?” Seraphina asked, a strange softness in the black of her eyes.
“Yes, I did. I still do.”
“What about Aiden?” Victoria jumped in.
“What about him?”
“Did you love him?”
His lips parted, but ultimately remained mute, heart stuck halfway up his throat.
“Of course he didn’t love him,” Seraphina scoffed. “Not in the same way. Zea was with him for years.”
“So what? Time and love aren’t connected,” Victoria rebutted. “Have you never had a fling so passionate that it changed you forever? It could last a night, or an entire week; it’s the intensity of what you have that marks you. It’s the kind of feeling you never forget.”
He swallowed around a lump.
“If that’s how he felt with Aiden, then why is he after Zea?” Seraphina’s question prompted both women to stare at him. “Unless I’m misinterpreting what’s going on between you. The look on Zea’s face a minute ago seemed… personal.”
“Honestly, I…” Words tangled up in his mouth, caught in the knot around his throat. He didn’t trust either of these demons, but right now, sincerity came as a necessity. “I don’t know what I’m doing or what to strive for. I don’t know what the future holds; I’m totally lost. I’m lost in a way I’ve never been before, and I don’t know how to ground myself again. You asked me if I miss Charmaine, but it’s more than that; she was my anchor, and I don’t know what to do without her.”
In silence, the girls scowled.
“Does Zea give you purpose?” Victoria’s voice was much nicer than he’d ever heard it.
“I don’t know. He used to, but everything’s different now. I don’t even know how I feel about him anymore.”
“Hurt?” Seraphina tried. “Angry? Betrayed?”
“Not betrayed,” he corrected.
“You just said you still love him,” Victoria chimed in. “How does that work?”
“I’m not sure I can explain. It’s not… rational. I love him because I always have; it’d be strange if I suddenly stopped.”
“So you hold onto that feeling like you hold onto Charmaine and your beliefs, because you wouldn’t know yourself otherwise,” Seraphina theorized, dissecting him directly in front of his very eyes. “Because if you suddenly stopped, you’d become unrecognizable.”
His hands shook.
“Who are you, Nathaniel?” Victoria asked, her words like a whisper in the wind.
“What do you want?” Seraphina added.
“I don’t know.”
“Look inside yourself.”
He swallowed, hands cold. His heart beat so distantly that it felt part of a different body. “I want to move forward. I want to give Aiden the happiness he deserves.”
“Aiden?” Victoria sounded surprised, eyebrows bouncing on her forehead. “So you’ve got Aiden on your mind, not Zea. Since when?”
“Since I’ve met him. I can’t help it.”
“What is Zea to you, then?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
The aftermath of his selfish actions, the open wound he’d intentionally carved. He could’ve talked Zea out of it and dissuaded the others from helping him, but he didn’t. He’d wanted Zea to fall. Now he was forced to stare at the scars he’d created, something he never thought he’d have to do.
“Where’s Venn?” he asked, locking eyes with Victoria.
“He’s in the library with Dolion.”
The library was upstairs, behind a series of rooms and hallway turns. It was clear that Victoria and Venn also lived here, since they were always around. He found Venn flipping through a book while Dolion talked to him, pacing back and forth. Venn sat in a chaise longue with his legs outstretched, cape spilling over the sides of the cushion. His crimson vest was buttoned over a white dress shirt, pants and cloak jet black. His hair, styled upwards, had a rogue strand falling over his forehead, horns growing out of his temples, twisted like Dolion’s.
His arrival prompted both men to look at him. A wide smile broke through Dolion’s face.
“Nathaniel! We were just talking about you.”
“Not really,” Venn corrected, snapping the book closed. “But you’re never too far from our thoughts. We were discussing the terms of your contract.”
“I’m not signing,” he blurted out.
The demons scowled.
“But we haven’t even told you the terms yet,” Dolion protested, visible disappointment on his face. “It’s a really good deal!”
“I’m not interested. I do, however, need a favor.”
Venn squinted. In retrospect, Nathaniel should probably have waited before blurting that out.
“I need Aiden’s soul contract,” he continued, and for as much as he wanted to add some bargaining terms to his request, nothing came to mind.
“What for?” Dolion asked.
“I’d like to study it.”
“Why?”
“I need to know what he did purely out of obligation, and what he did out of his own volition.” Not true, but not exactly a lie either. “It’d mean a lot to me.”
Would a sentimental card play well? With his heart skipping a beat, he watched the two demons regard each other, an indecisive look on their faces. There was a light trace of sympathy on the pinching of Dolion’s brows that told him the emotional appeal hadn’t been for naught. If he could sway one of them, the other might follow.
“I need to know just how far the rabbit hole goes, and if he ever felt anything for me at all.”
Dolion glanced at Nathaniel with such big and pained eyes that the next natural step would be to spread a hand over his heart and pout. Thoroughly moved, Dolion turned to Venn and grabbed his wrist. “C’mon,” he whispered, tugging on his partner’s arm. “We owe him.”
Unconvinced, Venn shot Nathaniel a sharp and skeptical look, but let Dolion pull him across the library anyway. Perfect.
Despite never having actually read a soul contract, he knew they were vile, with fine print that changed most of their meaning and nasty clauses that bound the human in question to an afterlife of complete servitude. In Aiden’s case, that servitude began by playing his part in Dolion’s scheme and extended to doing anything else Zea might want him to do.
He wondered if Zea knew just how much power he had over Aiden, or if he hadn’t even read the fine print himself, because that was very much something he’d skip on, especially if someone else had put the contract together for him. Considering it was in Venn’s safe, he had a sneaking suspicion Zea had no idea what was actually in these pages at all. Tangentially, was that how the demons in this house had so many servants? Would that be Aiden’s fate too? No, he wouldn’t fall; Nathaniel would send him to Earth. A clean slate, a second chance. What conditions could actually send him there?
The contract let him know that, upon selling his soul, Aiden had signed into a myriad of luxuries on Earth; a high-paying job that he didn’t deserve, higher education that he couldn’t otherwise afford, and multiple societal bonuses that came with his environmental networking, which he was particularly good at. All of that, however, came at the expense of his freedom after death, bound to the demon that had signed him for thirty years. If he tried to escape by illegitimate means, he’d spend the rest of his sentence in limbo. Not many souls came back from it, and the ones that did were never the same again. Apparently, it was a bottomless pit, like falling forever. When their consciousness started to lose it, the falling turned into perfect stillness, the absence of life. There were no sounds, no visuals, no feelings, nothing at all.
The fine print made it very clear what would happen to Aiden if he were to sever the bond earlier than intended, but it wasn’t as clear about others trying to do the same for him. If he were murdered, for example. His safety, while under servitude, was guaranteed. So, what kind of safety was that? With a scowl on his forehead, Nathaniel leaned closer to the contract. It expatiated on disobedience and punishments, but never actually went into detail on the safety aspect, which he decided was probably physical safety. Was Aiden safe from the one who had signed him, or only the demons that didn’t have anything to do with his contract? Could humans hurt him, or was Zea the only one who could, if at all? He read the entire contract back-to-back but still couldn’t find any details about this. Placing it down, he picked up the phone.
Charmaine answered immediately.
“I found something in the contract that we might be able to use,” he told her.
“What is it? I’ll need to get this done as soon as possible.”
“While it explicitly protects Aiden from harm, it doesn’t specify what kind of harm that might be. My guess is physical, but I don’t know if there are any exceptions to the rule, like maybe Zea could potentially hurt him.”
“Does it state any such exceptions?”
“Not that I could find.”
“Then, no; there are none. Aiden is safe from all physical harm.”
“You’ll have to hurt him to void the contract.”
“Wouldn’t you like to at least know what he thinks about that? If he even wants to go back to Earth in the first place?”
“Who wouldn’t want to? Every soul in The Abyss is desperately fighting for a second chance.”
“He might be different.”
His heart skipped a beat. Aiden had never been very conventional, after all.
“Fine, but if he doesn’t respond by tomorrow night, do what you must.”
“So you’re not going through with Dolion’s plan,” she commented.
“No, I don’t trust any of them, and I don’t care about Blaz enough to potentially aggravate my own situation. It’s fine.”
“He tarnished your reputation.”
“No, I did, and anyway, I’m doing just fine. The only thing I really lost was you.” He spoke quickly, from the heart. The silence that followed forced a heavy and sudden self-awareness to dawn on him like a bucket of cold water. “I—”
“I miss you too,” she confessed. “I’m glad you could carry over some of your reputation; it seems your funds have been converted. Whether that’s because they see you in a negative light remains unknown.”
He scoffed, but it was humorless, leaving only the ghost of a smile in its wake. “It seems my notoriety preceded my arrival.”
“That’s what you get for making a career out of killing the ones who now surround you.”
“Fair enough.”
“I’ll call you as soon as I get a reply from Aiden, but don’t hold your breath; he’s still in The Valley.”
“You should probably get him out of there.”
“He’s still being treated, but at least he’s out of the bath.”
“What’s this bath? You talk about it like I know what it is.”
“It’s a simulation of the Pool of Corpses. It mends broken souls.”
“I should’ve taken a dip.”
“I don’t think it would’ve done you any good.”
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