Mortal Wounds

Chapter Thirteen

Davian's POV

I feel like a cursed angel, a flightless reaper without wings, a sitting duck stuck in Hell. There are no flames l*****g up the sides of the buildings and dizzying smoke to cloud my lungs. There are no souls suffering as I envisioned Hell, no screams of agony. No, there is just a city, a grand kingdom. The golden glow of lights from the city below shine through the massive window I pace beside. I rake a hand through my hair, pacing my thousandth circle, ignoring my dizziness, wondering what I did in a past life to reincarnate into this shitstorm of a life.

One of the worst parts about this I cannot loathe the demon with every ounce of my being considering he is trying to help. He is not the psychopathic monster I imagined a demon to be. Now the question lingers within me, like blaring lights in a red district, asking me what on earth makes a monster? He seems unsettlingly... human.

My sight breaks through the silence and I collapse onto the bed. No one is there to rescue me from my predicament. My brother won't pity me. My father loathes me. My mother is gone, and now I am shaken by the reality if I fall, there is no one to catch me. What's worse is the voices in my head, those twisted thoughts, anything but kind. They call me a monster and the worst part, with everyone calling me one, I wonder if that's what I am. If everyone is saying I should be locked up, should I?

A visual of torching the town crosses my mind and part of me wants to give them a valid reason to hate me. The only one who treated me like a person was Morgana, but now she's one of the people who'd surely watch me burn, alongside Lavender who sees me as the villain.

"Vanitas, son of demoness Lilith and river god, Cephissus, and the owner of this house. Show yourself, reaper," Vanitas calls through the door, voice thick with a Greek accent, emphasizing his 'r's and replacing the 'sh' sound with 's.'

I contemplate ignoring his call, but I remember what the demon said about Vanitas beheading me. My life is stuck in the dirt, but I'd like my head to stay on my shoulders, thanks.

I peek into the hallway, and when I'm sure I'm alone, I walk out into the hall. Just as I turn around, I shout in surprise. The demi-god/demon examines me like I'm an animal at a zoo. Christ, he looks like a possessed human-sized porcelain doll with his lack of blinking and breathing.

"If you're staying here, you might as well treat me like I'm your god," he commands with an air of entitlement that makes Beau look like a saint, "I want to get a few things straight; I'm not obligated to cater to you. If you say anything to anyone about my house, me or the demon that brought you here, you will be living without your tongue. Understood?"

I grimace at his threat and nod.

"I'm not going to do anything."

"You better," he warns, "The demon who brought you here is the reason why I haven't added your head to my taxidermy collection."

"I'll keep that in mind," I nod, thoroughly unsettled by his threat.

He scans me from head to toe as if looking for another thing to b***h at me about.

"Do you have any food?" I ask after a while, getting crept out by his judgmental staring.

He folds his arms, narrowing his eyes at me.

"I'd rather you starve."

"Can I please have some food? I'm hungry," I try again.

"I don't like dealing with children that aren't even related to me," he deadpans.

"I'm twenty-two."

He stares at me as if waiting for me to go on. When I don't, he runs his hand through his hair.

"I've been babysitting you for five seconds and I'm already exhausted," he sighs dramatically and wonders off downstairs.

I follow him downstairs where I find him in his kitchen, flipping through fashion magazines that border on voyeurism. He circles a few things and makes notes in a language I don't understand.

"What are you doing?" The question slips out before I can restrain myself. His jaw ticks.

"Nothing your feeble mind can comprehend. I know! I'll just ditch you with someone who actually gives a s**t about people," he decides as if he's came up with the most brilliant idea.

Before I can react, he grabs my arm. Instantly, my vision twists with an array of colours, almost as if I'm tripping on LSD. A moment later, my vision goes back to normal and I'm not in the same house I was in before. I stumble back into a wall, my head spinning.

I blink rapidly, trying to get a grip on where I am now. Now we're in a room far more gothic than any place I've ever seen. The walls are made of cobble with a slick, black table in the centre of the room, surrounded with black chairs with red cushions. A chandelier hangs high above our heads, revealing the amount of clutter in this room. There is a weapon collection, a record collection with a tv playing The Princess Bride. The corner is dedicated to old bands and singers such as The Beetles, Elvis Presley, Metallica, Nirvana, Queen, Led Zeppelin and much more. A coin and spoon collection hangs on the wall. Bookshelves are stocked with novels, amiibos and video game cartridges.

Blinking, I turn my head to notice there is a demon standing next to a... three-eyed raven? A large, abomination of a raven sits on top of the bookshelves, hissing at the demon. All of its eyes are pitch black, two being normally where eyes go and the third above its beak.

"What are you going on about now, Poe? You're the one who massacred my pillows and ate my pringles. Again," the demon retorts playfully, like a father playing pretend with their son.

The raven screeches at him.

"Really now? I believe I should be the one who should be cranky."

He receives another scream.

"Ok, how about a peace offering?" The demon waves his hand. A plate with a sandwich drifts in through the doorway. I run my hand over a plate with a sandwich on it trying to find some sort of string. Nothing. It's magic. The raven c***s its head and devours the sandwich whole.

"How is that?"

Poe squawks.

"What a spoilt little fatso. I can't tell who owns this house anymore," Vanitas snorts, announcing his presence. The raven screeches at Vanitas before deciding to puff up and groom its wings.

"Would it bother you so much to knock on the door like a normal person, brother?" another demon asks him.

"Yes."

The mysterious demon finally glances over at us. I'm caught off guard by how creepy his eyes are. His sclera is pitch black with red irises, like a drop of blood swimming in an ocean of ink. They remind me of the eyes of a black swan.

Other than the eyes, he looks quite like Lilu but with more masculine features, with thicker eyebrows, a stronger jawline and a more muscular build. Out of the Lilith family, I've seen so far, his complexion is white like bone, contrasting with his wavy, ink hair tied up in a ponytail. He's decked in all black, dressed to go to either a Slipknot concert or a biker bar. I can't decide which. He towers over me at about 7 ft. Jeez, is everyone in this world tall?

The demon extends his hand to me. "Pardon me. My name is Ascanius, son of a mortal and Valkyrie."

I almost cry. Yes, finally someone with manners! Yet, I only end up eyeing how sharp his long, black nails warily before looking up at him with surprise.

"I thought all Valkyries are female. How did Lilith and—uh." I stop myself before I ask him how he was conceived.

From what I know, Valkyries are female warrior deities who serve Odin in Norse mythology. They were known for being completely hard-core and ruthless, making bets on whether a warrior would die in battle or not. They would influence the warrior to increase their chances of winning, before taking the chosen warrior to Valhalla upon death.

"One's man's trash is another man's treasure," Vanitas drawls, "He's adopted. Lilith took him under her wing."

I scowl at Vanitas' rude comment, glad Ascanius doesn't seem bothered by it. I finally shake his hand realizing I left him hanging.

"I'm Davian. I'm kinda friends with Cosmo and his demon friend brought me here after I was attacked by some crazy grudge thing. Hi."

He tilts his head, seeming perplexed by that before letting my hand go.

"Anyway, I'm not in the mood for you to pester me, Vanitas. Not after the prank Cosmo pulled." Ascanius sighs, holding his arm out so the bird can land on it. "I can't believe he did that. Is he going through another phase? I don't understand. Lilu never raised him to do something like that."

Vanitas tsks at him.

"Kids do stupid crap."

"He's older than I am."

"He's a generation down. It doesn't count."

I do not think he knows how age or logic works. For no reason, the raven picks up a book and pegs it at Vanitas. It misses by an inch. Vanitas swirls around and glowers at it, a promise to skin the creature alive. Ascanius doesn't seem too bothered by it. In fact, he pats her head and compliments her for being remarkable. I tend to agree with him.

"Why are you here anyway?" he asks Vanitas.

"This is your new helper." Vanitas gestures to me and I give him an odd look. He then proceeds to say the rest in a baby voice that makes me glare at him, "This child is a reaper, afraid of doing reaper things and embracing his wittle destiny. So, if you take him along like an apprentice or something, he'll be able to see how the 'collecting the souls' thing works without doing it himself. Plus, you like helping people. Two birds, one pebble."

"You mean stone."

"No, I called it a pebble because, well, I don't care that much if you say yes. Anyway, reaper, scram. Explore the house. The adults need to talk."

I officially hate Vanitas worse than the demon who ruined my life.

"It is pleasure to meet you, Davian. Please, feel right at home," Ascanius invites, extending his arm to the flight of wooden stairs in the room's corner.

I leave the basement and explore the gothic setting I stumble across. Most of the technology is up to date, like a PlayStation console and a Nintendo switch. I spend twenty minutes exploring the first story of the house. I walk up another set of stairs, fascinated by the artefacts and decoration in the house. It almost makes me forget that I'm in the house of potentially bloodthirsty demons who eat the souls of unfortunate humans. Almost.

I walk past most of the room when I notice an open room. I enter without thinking. I find myself in a simple, large and sparse bedroom where there is a double bed with black sheets that match the curtains and the walls. I draw a smiley face in the dust that gathers on top of the dresser drawers. The dust is almost stuck to it. It must be a while since anyone has stepped foot in here.

This room is quite depressing. It's so dark and the air is stale. Even though I'm not that big of a fan of going outside, I still let the sun in from time to time. I glance at the door over his shoulder before he cracks open the top drawer. To my surprise, there is a dead iPod with random bags of powder, syringes and empty bottles of vodka. Whoever lives here likes to self-medicate.

"How are you enjoying the house?"

I jolt and turn to see Ascanius standing in the doorway. I drawback with a bashful blush for being caught snooping.

"It's ok. No one currently lives in this room," he reassures me.

"Uh, well someone left drugs in the top drawer in case you didn't know," I mutter with discomfort.

His eyes glow for a moment before he looks away, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I didn't realise. I never really touched this room," he admits before clearing his throat, "Vanitas told me your situation. I would like to offer that you stay here. He doesn't play well with others and to be frank, he hates reapers more than he hates humans. I'm kinda surprised he hasn't added you to his taxidermy collection."

Again, with the taxidermy.

"Why does he hate reapers?" I snort, eying the raven that decided to walk into the room like some weird dinosaur or dog. It squawks aggressively at the drawers and then begins bobbing its head towards it. I wonder if I'm in a coma where nonsensical things keep happening.

"In this world, reapers are a reminder that everything can come to an end. While creatures can be immortal, they're not invincible. Even gods taste death," he explains, beckoning the raven to leave the drawer alone.

I press my lips together. I don't blame people for coming to that conclusion when death terrifies me too.

"Do you feel that way?"

He shakes his head and holds out his hand. There is a red glow in his palm before a cracker appears. The raven instantly flies onto his shoulder and pecks with more angst than me in my teenage years.

"Life is far worse than what death can bring. Besides, we don't choose what you are born with. Just like your reaper-hood, it's indeterministic. However, how you act is free will."

"You remind me of the demon possessing Virgil when you say that," I observe, suspicious by the similarity, "He was rambling about free will to confuse someone."

He blinks as if that surprises him.

"Do you mean the cambion Vanitas says saved your life?"

"He also ruined it so it's only fair," I bite out stubbornly.

He then relaxes a little with a soft smile.

"It's a famous argument. During the War in the Heavens, the fallen angels argued humans should have free will. Angels such as Gabriel argued that everything should go according to God's will. Has the cambion told you his name yet?"

"Not yet."

"I guess he doesn't trust you. I will respect his decision then."

What have I done to make the bastard not trust me? I showed him around town and didn't send people forth to exorcise him. Additionally, he thought I was trustworthy enough to make out with, but still—now that I think about it, he really doesn't have a reason to trust me. And I don't trust him. That's fair. So, why does that fact annoy me? I shake my head and play it off.

"Well, we only knew each other for a few days."

"Still, he's not the type to help just anybody. He must find you interesting on some level," he points out, "Anyway, Vanitas says that you're having trouble accepting your destiny as a reaper."

"I'm not having this conversation," I warn him, sitting on the bed and folding my arms defensively.

"If you don't want to be one, don't be."

I blink rapidly at him, not expecting that.

"What?"

He takes a seat next to me.

"It's very difficult to be pushed into a life you don't want."

"That's not what everyone else tells me. They make it sound easy," I reply, referring to my brother. He's lectured me more than enough times to become a reaper to the point he decided to give me the silent treatment when I kept saying, "No."

"While it might be easier to do what everyone else is suggesting is the easiest path, it is your life. It's your job to make yourself happy, not anyone else's."

A little bit of weight lifts off my shoulders. Someone finally gets it.

"Although, you shouldn't dismiss the possibility of becoming a reaper before you've looked into it. You can't make an informed decision that way. I have a soul I need to collect today and you should come along to see what the process is like."

I'm reluctant to agree to that.

"By collecting a soul, you mean collecting a soul you tricked into making a deal with?" I question, basing that what I've heard about deal-making demons.

"You can make that up for yourself," he says, holding his hand out to me as he stands up, "What do you say?"

After a moment, I take his hand. He clutches it. I wince and curse as a burning sensation crawls onto my hands. He finally lets me go and shows me a mark on my wrist that looks more like an intricate cattle brand.

"This is your ticket to travelling back and forth from the mortal realm, the Veil and Hell."

I rub my hand, giving him a scowl.

"You could have given me a warning."

He smiles sheepishly.

"It's like getting vaccinated or pulling out a needle. Best to fix the problem when the other person is distracted."

Officially, they have weird practices. He walks over to the mirror in this room and draws something on it with his finger. The surface ripples like water. I stare at it, dumbfounded before poking it. I snatch my hand back when my finger sinks in as if I'm touching nothing. Ascanius smiles encouragingly.

"Come on."

*

The mortal realm is a city of black and white which lays in between the Veil. Mortals pass through us as though we are ghosts. We walk on dirt roads, moving through the jam-packed cars, stalls and pale buildings rectangular in shape. Most of the men wear red and white, checked headdresses and most women wear hijabs. This place would be a great vacation spot if it weren't for the freaky ghost creatures which roam around here, groaning and coughing as if they are suffering from severe dehydration.

"Where are we?" I ask, backing right out of the way of what I'm sure is a woman in white.

She glares at me with hollow eyes as if tempted to scream at me, but decides she doesn't want to mess with the towering creature with me and his bird. Mostly the bird.

"Jordan," Ascanius answers as he looks down on his iPad.

I look around in amazement before my stomach violently rumbles. Spotting an apple stall at the side of the road, I eat one. I turn when Ascanius clears his throat. He points to the people who watch with horror.

"They can't see you but they can see the apple," he deadpans before shaking his head, "Come. This way."

Begrudgingly, I drop the apple and follow him. He leads me to a one-story sandstone house with a camel in the backyard. The camel looks at us as if it can see us before spitting in our direction and minding its own business. Ascanius looks down at his iPad before nodding.

"This is the place," he confirms, walking right through its front door.

A few adults stand around the kitchen while children watch Sesame Street on TV. The adults seem to be nervous about something, talking in low whispers.

"We shouldn't have taken her out of the hospital," one of the women whispers to what I assume is her brother. The man shakes his head.

"She wouldn't have it. She wanted to spend her time here."

I catch up to Ascanius who walked past the kitchen. I follow him into a bedroom, beginning to get the creeps.

"Hey," I whisper, "I don't want to be here- I don't want to see someone..." my voice trails off as it begins to sink in why I'm here.

Someone is going to die. We'll be taking someone away from this family.

"Hello, dears," a voice croaks from somewhere in the room.

I turn to see where that voice came from. I notice an old lady sitting on a bed pushed into the corner. The poor lady looks deathly pale and frail, yet she smiles as if expecting us. Ascanius stands by her bed.

"Hello, Ethar. I take it you know why we're here."

She nods and offers a cheery grin.

"Ah, look at you! You look like your mother!" She obviously doesn't know he's adopted.

Either way, she beckons him over as if he's her son's best friend, not a seven-foot angel of death ready to take her soul into the abyss. She pinches his cheeks and then glances at the corner I'm trying to blend into.

"Who is this young man? Come here, child."

She pats a spot for me on the bed beside her. I want to leave. I'm not comfortable being near someone I know will be dead soon, but I don't want to be rude. I reluctantly sit, playing with my fingers, unable to look at her.

"I've lived a long life and I was able to look after my family because of your mother. I'm ready," she tells Ascanius before tilting her head to me, "Are you a new angel of death?"

"He is," Ascanius answers for me when I don't respond.

"I remember when I was your age." She smiles at the memory. "It was a long time ago. I was fleeing from my home. Political strife, the violence, I needed to escape it for my baby's sake. I came here without any money and all my stuff was destroyed. I had a baby to feed, so my husband I were desperate."

It sounds like she's been through a lot. I don't know how to respond.

"I kept praying for help and begging for money. I was scared for my child. That's when I met this beautiful angel. She promised to give me money in exchange for my time. I was reluctant at first, but I was desperate, so I said yes."

Does she think Lilith is an angel? I wonder if her opinion will change of her if she realises she actually made a deal with one of the strongest demons in existence.

"I was able to do everything I wanted to do. I was able to raise a family, support my husband and give my children and grandchildren a home, even though I lost mine. I lived a very good life. No need to be sad, little one."

I blink a few times, trying to ignore the pain my chest clenches with. She should be terrified, begging for more time or screaming about how this is not fair. I don't know how anyone can be so peaceful in the face of death.

"It sounds like you worked hard for that and you're ok with letting go?" I mutter, unable to wrap my head around the fact she is still smiling.

"Everything comes to an end, darling. Death is a part of life."

My chest tightens and I excuse myself. I rush outside, not able to handle being in there. I sit on the house's steps, absent-mindedly watching people walk by and occasionally patting the camel. The longer I stay here, the more I realise how incapable of being a reaper since how much I want to grieve. After all, she has family members they're leaving behind. When people die, they are unable to fulfil their dreams or their goals. It's cut off so abruptly, I can't help but find it cruel. I wonder how my brother does it. Does he not feel sad about it? How can he not be caught up in how depressing it is?

I wince when I hear screams of grief inside the house and crying. After a moment, Ascanius walks outside with the ghost of the old woman beside me. She looks did as she did as a human, but instead, her body looks like it's made up of white smoke. She seems to be dazed, unable to register what is happening. Ascanius flashes me a grim, knowing smile but doesn't ask me about my reaction.

"We're taking her to Purgatory," he tells me.

"I thought Lilith owned her soul?"

"She doesn't like keeping innocent souls. She makes deals with any souls and gets me to judge whether the person is sinful enough to entertain her."

"What does she do with those souls?"

He shrugs before grabbing my hand.

As I blink, we appear back in Hell. We are met with open, gothic-styled gates of glistening gold rounded at the top stands at an impressive 50ft. I blink, trying to make out what is behind the gates. There is overwhelming darkness that not even sunlight can penetrate. It's like a big bundle of thick, black smoke has gathered here in an intimidating bundle of nothingness. Lines of souls stand in front of the gates, waiting for clearance by reapers that are dressed in black uniforms.

The reapers scan each soul who comes to the front and checks their clipboards before letting them in. The souls don't even appear aware of their surroundings or the fact they are dead. They stare ahead with unfocused eyes. It could be from the shock of death. Every so often there is a scream somewhere from the back of the line only to be hushed later when guards rush off in that direction.

"These gates are called Sha'are Mavet. They're guarded by the son of Death," Ascanius explains.

This is like an office cross security job for reapers. Half the time they are revising papers and IDs of souls given to them by the reapers. Ascanius guides me to a small house to the left side of the gates. He knocks on the door. When the door flings open, my eyebrows shoot up as Lilu leans against the door frame, wearing nothing but a towel. Ascanius wrinkles his nose in surprise.

"Brother, please, not a son of an angel out of all people," he whispers.

"What can I say? I love the taste of the f*******n fruit." Lilu waves him off before scanning me head to toe. "Hello, gorgeous. You here to see your ancestor?"

"Ancestor?"

"This house belongs to your ancestor and the overseer of Purgatory, Thysian. He runs the scene around here for his dad, Azrael. You'd know him better as Death," Lilu fills me in, making me raise my brows with surprise, "Azrael created him and a race of reapers. Sorry, but he's showering at the moment."

"I'm going to put this soul in the cue," Ascanius tells him, summoning and giving him a piece of paper.

"Give me a moment. I want to get closer to my new reaper friend."

Ascanius tells me to wait here while he guides the grandmother off to the cue. Lilu returns, at least this time dressed in slacks with a wide grin and liquor bottles filling his arms.

"I've brought medication for your misery."