Intermission
There were no calls or updates from Charmaine for the next two days. All he did was sit around and wait, listening to Dolion and his guests discuss new clients, moving on from him already. His hand twirled a wine glass around, leg bouncing under the table. Voices blended in the background; his attention was focused on a distant and soft ringing that should be cutting through the room at any moment. Across from him was a grandfather clock with golden hands that went around in circles, the only thing he watched. Each revolution made his leg bounce faster.
Lunchtime came and went without a single call. Dolion and the others got up at one point, leaving him alone with the clock, not a sound in the room. Aiden’s trial was tomorrow. Quietly, he poured himself another glass, eyes glancing at the humans that scurried about the room. Would Aiden become one of them? Sure, Zea technically called the shots, but did he even know that? It seemed he’d thrown all his responsibilities on Dolion’s lap, or maybe Venn’s, the moment he’d signed with them. Was Aiden’s ownership part of that deal? His pulse rushed loudly. Where was Zea?
“You’re still here.”
Victoria’s voice pulled his eyes up at the stairway. The way she walked, swaying her hips with every step, made the skirt of her dress move along, like an open umbrella around her thighs, stuffed with white folds and frills. Thigh-high socks covered her legs, a giant bow on the back of her dress.
“Are you fermenting in your own existential nightmare? If so, can I join?”
“I’m waiting for a call,” he explained, watching her approach the head of the table. “It’s not as depressing as you wish, but you’re still welcome to join me.”
She took the empty seat next to him. The folds of her dress spilled over the edge of the seat, knees poking out. The air around her was spicy sweet, reminiscent of pepper and cinnamon, glass cherries on her lips. Charmaine would’ve never worn that color.
Staring at him, Victoria moved her shoulders, covered only by the black strands of hair that spilled over them, a crisscross pattern on her skin. Without really thinking, he reached over and brushed her hair clean off her shoulder, smooth as silk. He was fully aware of how closely she watched him. Around her neck was a black choker that he’d never properly noticed, pendant hanging from the center.
“I don’t take very kindly to this type of approach, angel,” she warned him, although her tone was only slightly serious. “Handsy men are not my type.”
His eyebrows lifted, hand dropping from her hair. “You’re not my type either.”
“With the way you watch me, I’d beg to differ. Your eyes are glued on me.”
Shrugging, he brought his glass up for a sip, not the first of the evening. The room swayed and the soft, dim light that shone over Victoria made her extremely beautiful. Still, he wasn’t drunk enough to want her like that. “Deny it all you want, but you know my type and he’s very late.”
“Late for a call? I wasn’t aware he had access to a phone.” Her eyebrows pinched delicately together, naked shoulder bouncing. “That should be reason enough for him to stop bothering us about it.”
“No, the call is something else; it has nothing to do with him. I guess, in a way, I’m just waiting for everyone to come to me, when I’m usually the one taking action. Being down here… strips you of your agency.” In a moment of drunken clarity, he decided to be completely frank. “I feel really fucking useless.”
“You’re not useless; you’re privileged. In our realm, work is only for the ones who need it. Humans work tirelessly to pay for their sins and only the demons that want what we have leave their local bars to do anything about it. I only lift a finger if it’s for fun.”
“Don’t you feel cheated out of your power? Stuck in a castle with nothing to do?”
“How can I feel powerless when the entire underworld wants what I have? When I can drink and party all day with nothing to worry about? Merit is meaningless here; there’s no point in exerting yourself for something you already have. I bet if you came to my club you’d understand what life is all about.”
“I wasn’t aware you had one.”
“I don’t remember inviting you.”
Their eyes met. He smirked, causing her to do the same.
“I don’t think a puritan like you would enjoy what I have to offer, anyway,” she continued. “My club requires a very refined taste.”
“Puritan,” he scoffed. “You don’t know me at all.”
“Just by looking at you, I know you haven’t been to a single orgy in your life.”
“Paradise isn’t about that.”
“Exactly. I’m not blaming you; I’m just stating a fact. You’re welcome to stop by later tonight if you’re feeling brave. I’ll find some boys for you.”
He shook his head, a smile on his face. “You have me all wrong, princess.”
“Bring Zea, then. He’s been there a few times.”
“Why do I have a feeling you’re lying about that?”
“Just because he won’t put out for you doesn’t mean he’s gone untouched this whole time. You’re not the only fountain around, gorgeous.”
A knot closed tightly around his throat, heart straining. He drank from his glass.
“Oh, don’t be like that.” A hand touched his arm. “You have no idea how many demons would like to sleep with a fallen, especially if that fallen is you.”
He pulled his arm away. “I couldn’t care less what they’d like, and Zea can do whatever he wants; I don’t have an issue with that. I just don’t know why he isn’t here yet.”
“Have you considered that maybe he isn’t coming?”
“He’s been coming over for a week; why would he stop now?”
“Honestly, Nathaniel, I just don’t see why he wouldn’t. Sure, he’s been coming to you, but have you been doing the same for him? Have you reached out to him at all? Because, from what I can tell, he’s been the only one pursuing this friendship. I haven’t seen you make a single effort to reconnect with him.”
His lips parted with a heated and immediate rebuttal that refused to come out. She was right, after all. His behavior toward Zea had been very confusing, and he wasn’t exactly sure what either of them were trying to do with their relationship, but Zea had truly been the only one reaching for a middle ground. He felt terrible about it. Things would never go back to the way they were, but ignoring their past wasn’t possible, either; he just didn’t know what to do.
“I should probably see him this time.” His tone was quiet, verging on shameful.
“Yeah, you should. He doesn’t live too far away.”
“I figured.”
“If you come to the balcony, I’ll show you his apartment.”
The building Dolion called home was much taller than he’d expected it to be. In fact, every building around was infinitely higher than initially thought, rising up from the mist and fog, so far up from the ground below that he couldn’t even see it. They were hundreds of floors high. The winged creatures that navigated the gaps between towers looked like traffic, transient and chaotic. They traveled from balcony to balcony, taking flight and landing as if they were helipads. He could oversee the entire realm from here. Victoria pointed at an apartment building a little off to the east. Conveniently, each floor was marked on all four walls.
“Right there, number 152.”
“Should I just land on his balcony like everybody else?”
“Of course. How else would you get there?”
Somehow, he couldn’t answer that question.
If one of the population’s main means of transportation was flying everywhere, then it was completely understandable that every building had their curtains drawn from the inside. The same was true for Zea. When Nathaniel landed on the balcony, he found glass panels on the door that allowed him a slim glance into the apartment, curtains drawn just enough. The floors were made of wood, an archway in the back led to a room out of view and a portion of what seemed to be a dining table poked out from below. The way the furniture was positioned told him there must be a few steps leading up to the balcony door.
He knocked on the frame, avoiding the glass, and waited. Demons flew past, throwing him glances. Over the balcony railing, a sea of winged creatures flew in every direction, an abyssal drop right below them, partially covered by the mist. A clicking sound and he turned to see Zea open the door, a scowl on his face.
“Why are you here?” Zea asked, in the space between the door and the frame. He wasn’t wearing his boots.
“Why didn’t you come to Dolion’s today?”
A shrug was his response as Zea turned away, letting him in. There was a mumble too, something about not needing to go to Dolion’s anymore, but he didn’t catch all of it. Considering just how badly Zea had slurred that, he guessed maybe it hadn’t been directed at him at all. Had Zea been drinking? Nathaniel followed him in.
Down the steps, he was welcomed to an open concept kitchen, dining and living. Along the east wall was a row of windows, completely covered up by curtains, a couch with its back to the rest of the room, a big rug and a fireplace. The dining area, however, was just a table pushed up to the wall with a couple of chairs. He must not have many guests.
Nathaniel listened to the door close behind him, followed by Zea’s bare feet coming down the steps. He found himself tensing up at the approach, as if he were about to get jumped. Instead, Zea walked toward the living room, letting a breath come out of his lungs.
“What can I help you with?” Zea asked, taking a seat on the couch.
It struck him right then how intimate this was. The apartment barely had any personality, but the fact it belonged to Zea made his presence feel like a breach of Zea’s privacy. He shouldn’t be here, but still followed Zea into the living room, deciding to stand by the windows instead of taking a seat on the couch. The half-empty bottle of wine on the floor answered his previous question.
“I came here to apologize.”
Zea took a quick swig, placing the bottle by his thigh. His lips shone with the wine.
“I haven’t been fair to you,” Nathaniel continued, since Zea didn’t seem very inclined to speak. “You’ve been reaching out and I haven’t. I know it looks like I don’t care to patch things up, and I’m sorry; I just… I’ve been having a really difficult time. Despite what it looks like, the truth is that I’m not okay with any of what’s happened, but I’m trying to be. I’m trying to come to terms with it and find my place in this hellscape; I just don’t know where you come in. I don’t know where we stand.”
“We don’t stand anywhere. There’s nothing between us anymore.”
“That’s not true.” His heart throbbed. “Yesterday, in the ballroom—”
“We have chemistry,” Zea cut him off. “We’re the best damn fighters Paradise’s ever seen, and you clearly still want me, but that’s the extent of it. You fucked me over, I fucked you over right back. What kind of relationship would that be? We were done the moment you turned me in.”
His throat closed. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry,” Zea echoed, ironic. “Were you sorry up in your office, or are you only sorry now that you have to look at me?”
“I’m sorry now, but I’m still sorry. I don’t want us to feel bad every time we see each other. Yeah, we screwed up, now what? We’re stuck down here; the most we can do is move on.”
“So that’s why you came, to make us move on.” The last two words were spoken with air quotes, wine bottle leaning on Zea’s thigh. “That’s never going to happen. I gave up trying a long time ago.”
“That’s not what I mean. I don’t want us to cut ties; I want us to reinvent what we already have. It’s not salvageable in its entirety, but we can find a way to reshape it into something that works. Maybe not a relationship, but maybe not not one either.”
“That doesn’t make any fucking sense. Of course we’re not cutting ties, we can’t; we’re just two people who deeply resent each other. What else do you want from me?”
He shrugged loosely, frustrated. “I don’t know, Zea; something less screwed up and sad than what we have? Something that doesn’t remind me of my own cruelty every time I look at you? You don’t see me digging up dirt on you every chance I get, so why don’t you cut that out, huh? It’d be a start.”
“I can’t. Every time I start feeling something for you, I just… shut it out. I don’t mean to; it just happens. I spent so long hating you that, when I don’t, it feels wrong. It feels like—like I’m betraying myself. Like I’m setting myself up to get fucked over again.”
“I can’t do that again. There’s nowhere else to go. We’re both already at rock bottom; don’t you get it? You’re not the victim anymore.”
“And you are?”
“No, that’s the point. It was retribution. We’re even, so stop pushing. Stop hanging onto what happened as an excuse not to move on. I’m through with it.” While he didn’t shout, his voice still rose. “Grow the fuck up.”
Zea drank in silence, a shine in the blackness of his eyes.
Nathaniel breathed in deep, forcing his hands to loosen up, shoulders rolling. It was fine; he was getting worked up over nothing. His lips parted, but ultimately remained mute, unsure what to say next.
Finishing off the bottle, Zea brought it back down, tongue swiping over his lips. “I’m just jealous. It feels like everything always goes your way, while I keep getting the short end of the stick in every draw. You’re here, but you already have friends and respect; you didn’t have to go through what I went through. You don’t have a single tattoo on your body, you slept through the entire transformation and you’re a socialite; it’s pointless. You’ll never know how I feel.”
He scowled, a twinge in his heart. “What do the tattoos have to do with that?”
Zea rolled his eyes. “You still don’t know what they are?”
“I don’t know anything about this place.”
“Why don’t you ask your new friends, huh?”
“I don’t trust them.” His tone was sterner now, annoyed. “Just tell me what they mean.”
“Every time you sign a contract, or make a deal, or rely on anyone you pay a price. You’re selling your freedom, so they mark you. They get a piece of you. The more tattoos you have, the more they own you. You become currency.”
His heart skipped at the dozens of designs across Zea’s arm, mind going back to the demons in Dolion’s mansion. Victoria’s skin didn’t have a single mark on it, arms always bare. Dolion and Venn, however, had only worn long sleeves so far, making him unable to tell if they had any tattoos at all. Was that on purpose?
“I’m sure you understand what that makes you and why Dolion’s so adamant about signing you,” Zea continued, resting his head against the couch. “If he had his mark on you, he’d be unstoppable.”
The room grew heavy with the realization of how much power he actually had. It must be why Dolion let him stay at his mansion.
“Our experiences will always be different,” Zea concluded. “Close the door when you leave.”
He took the hint and crossed for the front door, drawing the curtain over the glass panel before making his exit.
As far as he could tell, Dolion’s place only had two balconies, which humans closely monitored. They knew who he was and let him into the penthouse without any issue. He flew straight for the left hallway, which cut through to the back of the building where Dolion’s office was. It was getting pretty late in the afternoon and Charmaine’s call was his biggest concern. The office doors were closed, but not locked, allowing him to simply walk in, no knocking.
Dolion was at his desk with Venn on one of the chairs across from him. Even though they just seemed to be talking, Nathaniel’s sudden presence still made Dolion jump, wide-eyed. Color quickly rushed to his face. Venn, on the other hand, simply swiveled his chair around, resting his chin in a hand.
“God!” Dolion shouted. “You can’t just walk in like that! This is a private space!”
“Has Charmaine called yet?” Nathaniel asked, ignoring him completely.
“Not yet,” Venn informed him.
“Have you ever heard of fucking boundaries?!” Dolion continued, hands closed into fists over his desk.
In a pointedly antagonistic move, Nathaniel walked further into the room and took the empty seat next to Venn. “Can’t say I’m very familiar with the concept,” he lied, leaning against the backrest. “What were you doing that was so private, anyway?”
“That’s none of your fucking business! That’s why the door was closed in the first place!”
“We were discussing our next client,” Venn explained, swiveling the chair a bit. “But I know you don’t care about that.”
“You’re right, I don’t, but Dolion does.” His eyes met Dolion’s, round and wild. “Are you in love with this client or were you touching yourself under the desk?”
Dolion scowled, horror on his face. Venn quietly snickered, holding a finger over his own lips, smirk in full view. Dolion clearly didn’t appreciate that, but refrained from saying anything about it. Instead, he let his shoulders down and leaned back against his seat.
“Oh, c’mon, that was pretty good,” Venn coerced, a sort of poison in his voice. “The callout was outstanding.”
“I wasn’t doing that,” Dolion quickly retaliated, face growing brighter.
“You were a second away from doing that.”
Just as Venn finished speaking, the phone rang. Nathaniel practically jumped to answer, a breath caught halfway up his throat. “Charmaine?”
“Aiden’s on the way.” Her tone was very worrying, words coming out fast. “I’ll explain everything later; there’s no time. I need you to pick him up.”
His blood pressure dropped so quickly that he could barely hear her.
“We’ve never sent a human down the mountain; I don’t know how his soul will take the fall. Go get him.”
Without a single word, he dropped the handset and bolted out of the room. The world was distant and foggy, impossible to think, mind completely blank as he pushed a window open and jumped out of it.
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