Mortal Wounds

Chapter Nineteen

Invidian's POV

I yank Davian into Hell as soon as I get the feeling he's going to humour his father. We tumble into my old bedroom, still ravaged by the destruction I wrought where the drawers are cracked, a hole is punctured into the wall, while everything else is spotless. Davian did a good job cleaning the mess up. I almost thank him until I see a familiar painting in the room sitting beside a massive plushie racoon, cat, owl hybrid.

"Focus on the task at hand."

A distant expression takes his face before I wave a hand. He blinks a few times, nods in agreement and sits on the bed. Disguising how much hearing his father's voice has taken out of him, he places the tissue on the side table.

I focus on the painting inside my room. Macabre. Gothic. Dark. Eden's style of painting for sure. The figure in the painting is mine. I remember getting upset at him for making this piece. I trace a finger along the texture surrounding the head. This was Eden for you, always picking apart people's insecurities rather than focus on his own.

"Eden thinks you're upset with him. He never thought you were dead," he notes, studying my reaction.

An unwanted pang of guilt claws at my chest. I wonder if he blames my absence on himself. But that is far from the truth. I have fond memories of him trying to teach me how to draw, and failing spectacularly, but he tried all the same. I admired how strong he is as a person. While he might be a bit odd, hiding from the world and developed quite a few disorders, that didn't matter to me. He went through hell and made it out alive. That always spoke volumes about him. Hell, he was the only one I was comfortable enough sharing my feelings about Henley with.

"He can't register it when someone he cares about dies. He still thinks his wife is alive," I inform him.

"Wait—his wife? The woman he painted that huge mural about?!" Davian exclaims as colour drains from his skin.

I'm not surprised Eden is still working on that. Eden normally gets frustrated every few months, claiming it doesn't do justice to her beauty. So, he scrubs the mural clean and paints her again.

"I never met that sister. She was murdered by an angel before I was born."

"Oh," Davian mutters, his eyes downcast as if he is trying to imagine that, "That's really sad and he still hasn't moved on..."

"He doesn't want to," I drawl, scanning the painting for a moment, "If stagnation makes him happy why destroy the illusion for him?"

I see the appeal of the lie.

"I'm not too sure about that but to each their own, I guess." Davian shrugs. "I'm sure he would appreciate it if you visit him. If you like, I can come with you."

"I don't need anyone to hand hold me," I snap, irritated at the way he is trying to push his way through my business.

Again. I'm not even sure if Eden would recognise me in this form anyway.

"He speaks highly of you."

"Why are you saying these things?"

"I just don't want you to forget you have people to fall back on is all. You clearly do."

I grit my teeth even though I know he has a point.

"Touch the blood and have a stupid seizure already."

He rolls his eyes and pokes the blood. For a moment, nothing happens. I open my mouth to question whether he has his abilities anymore but that's when his body seizes up. He stares into nothing, his eyes wide as if seeing something I can't. I catch him when he begins to fall to the side. I carefully lay him back onto the bed, turning onto his side in case he starts foaming at the mouth. He mutters incoherent words under his breath.

I sit down on the bed beside him, waiting for him to get out of it. My eyes drift to the painting. I would think he's trying to rub the past in my face if I didn't know that isn't the type of person he is. There is not a malicious bone in his body. Rather he cares far too much about those who've failed him: the town of GoldVine, his father, and his brother.

I swallow when I realise our hands are touching. I feel his fingers, a gentle touch, growing accustomed to his warmth. Earlier, our hands touched in the security room, and when I did so, I felt my heart flutter. It felt more intimate than making out. I lay on the bed with the intention of waiting until he wakes up, but I can't keep my eyes open. The lack of sleep I've been getting catches up with me. After a while, I finally gave in.

In this dream, I am lounging on Henley's couch. I turn my head to see her sitting at her coffee table. Oddly, she fights a smile.

"I think I love her," she murmurs to me, her cheeks flushing pink. She scoffs, flicking my forehead, "What's with that face? You're embarrassing me."

"Love?" I question, sitting up, "Is this the dope talking?"

She covers her face before blurting, "Everything about her is a masterpiece. The sight of her lit my soul on fire and I don't know what to do. It's f*****g terrifying."

I stare at her, baffled by the excitement in her voice. Her eyes glow when she speaks about this person.

"I didn't know you were a poet. In fact, I didn't think you were capable of any emotions other than misery and woe," I drawl.

She rubs the back of her neck.

"I don't even know how to act around her," her eyes darken a little, "And her boyfriend doesn't seem to give her the attention she needs. He just treats her like a child and belittles her at every opportunity. When he's around he talks over her and answers the questions I have for her. It's sickening. The bastard is also cheating on her. I keep seeing him with prostitutes behind her back."

It surprises me to hear her so defensive about another being. I have been remembering bits and pieces of my time with her the past few days when I would either fall asleep or something would trigger a memory. The memories were of us normally hanging out, her bitching about how her parents don't understand her or how she doesn't know how to fit in this world. Typical conversations but this is different.

"Well, are you going to ask her out?"

"What?! No, she has a boyfriend!" she blurts as if the idea is beyond stupid.

I nearly roll my eyes into my head.

"If he's being a d**k, homewreck that shit."

She rubs her jaw, considering the idea. I scan her with curiosity trying to wrap my head around her giddiness. How can knowing one person make you feel like that?

"Do you think I should?" she asks with hope in her eyes.

"Who knows? But you're not going to get anywhere by swooning to me."

"You're either the best or worst hype man ever. I can't tell which."

"Porqu no los dos?" I shrug, scratching my jaw. "How does it feel anyway? Not that I care too much about that."

"It's useless trying to explain it to someone else. That's something you'll need to experience for yourself."

Ew, no thanks.

"Who is the girl you're talking about?" I ask.

"She has such a Shakespearian name. Ethelia Christie."

Shit, she was in love with Cassiel's fiancé?!

"Invidian."

My dream shakes and I snap my eyes open. My vision changes and I find myself staring up at Davian. The edges of his eyes are red, and his skin is pale.

"Sorry for waking you up but I had the vision. It wasn't pretty," he mutters, not even bothered by how close he is to my face, "Ascanius says he has food for us to eat. I'll explain it to you guys over dinner."

I push his face away and open my mouth to deny the invitation when my nose catches the scent of Ascanius' cooking. The scent of roast pork and various other meats wafts through the house. Ascanius is a big meat eater, having come from a Nordic background.

"Come on, don't want to starve yourself, do you?" He pulls me onto my feet.

I reluctantly follow him downstairs. I scan the house, noticing Lilu didn't manage to redecorate much. He did, however, change the couches to be large, light gold with floral white designs on its cushion inside back. It makes my lips twitch into a smile. It's so typical of him to favour bright colours. There is practically a pork feast laid out on the dining table. It ranges from pork cutlets to roast pork.

"Take a seat," Ascanius calls from the kitchen, occupied with preparing some gravy.

Eager to dig in, Davian practically fills his plate with food and sets out a plate for me too.

"I don't have time for this," I mutter, glancing up at Ascanius' back, not looking forward to facing his disapproval.

"You need to eat. Human bodies get heaps of issues if you're not eating properly. I don't think you want to be terrorising Cassiel with constipated bowels," Davian drawls, taking a bite of a chicken leg, before moaning loudly, "This food is amazing!"

I give in and take a seat next to him. Ascanius approaches the table, placing the gravy on the table in front of us. I mutter "thanks" under my breath.

He takes a seat at the end of the table before scarfing down most of the food and along with Davian. I dig into the food, wondering about the dream I just had. It creates so many questions. Did Cassiel realise Henley loved her and decided to get rid of her?

"So, after that vision about that boy I've come to a conclusion," Davian speaks up, staring at me, "I want to help you out. I no longer care if you kill any of those guard people or Cassiel or Raguel. Or anyone you know for certain whose death would make this a safer world."

I'm taken aback by his confession. His morals sure have done a 180 in a span of a few days. Ascanius doesn't seem impressed by this and continues eating.

"What changed your mind?"

"The kid dies horribly because of them." He locks his jaw, clearing his throat. "I don't want to go into everything I saw. I don't know where he dies. It seems to be in some sort of dark room with cobblestone walls. He was bound back against something. Probably a stone table. He was blindfolded, but there was a small hole in the blindfold. There was this sharp pain in his chest and the vision ended."

"Could that s**t be any vaguer? Any idea at all where that vision took place?"

"Not really. It was cold and smelt of rotting corpses though if that helps." Davian shudders at the memory.

I rub my jaw in annoyance.

"We'll need to check Raguel's stuff. He'll have something."

"Wouldn't that be hard because he's a—"

I immediately pinch his thigh in warning. Davian yelps and shoots me a questioning look.

"A what?" Ascanius inquires, arching his brow with suspicion.

"Nothing. If we leave one thing of his out of place, he might pick up on it," Davian covers for me.

I sigh and remove my hand. That was a close one. If Davian told him Raguel is a human vessel that's being possessed by an angel, Ascanius will trap me in my room and break all the mirrors. At the moment, he thinks I'm only messing with humans and reapers. They are harmless in comparison.

"We'll figure a way around it. He might have all the information we need."

He accepts that and nods. Ascanius doesn't seem convinced that is what Davian was going to say but doesn't push, knowing I would leave. He whistles and his raven, Poe flies in with a pistol in her beak. It drops it on the table in front of Davian and begins to chow down on Ascanius' plate. I eye the bird with suspicion remembering all the times it tried to peck out my eyes and use my hair as a nest.

"Please keep him from getting killed. That g*n automatically refills itself after a minute," Ascanius tells Davian.

With an awed expression, Davian wipes his hands on his pants before picking up the g*n. He strikes a few poses and winks at me.

"I didn't think you knew how to use a g*n," I deadpan.

"My brother used to take me to pistol shooting centres. He wanted to make sure I knew how to defend myself. I'd be a bit rusty though." He points the g*n at the wall.

"Whatever, I feel cool as f**k," he snorts, yelping in surprise when he accidentally hits the trigger.

The g*n fires. A bullet flies just as Lilu materialises into the room and hits him between the eyes.

Davian stands up and covers his mouth.

"Holy—I didn't mean to do that!"

Lilu doesn't seem bothered in the slightest. The bullet slides out of his forehead, clinking on the floor as his wound heals.

"My, that tickled a little," Lilu chuckles, brushing that off like it's nothing.

Davian sinks back down onto his seat, staring wide-eyed at the table as if not knowing how to react to what just happened.

"Welcome to the world of gods, demons and angels," I congratulate him with a slap on the back.

Lilu laughs with a behind his hand before drifting over to Ascanius.

"I was going to annoy you about what you and Vanitas are hiding from me but I will save it for later," he drawls, extending his hand to me, "I remember you from the party. Let me introduce myself properly. My name is Lilu, the stunningly gorgeous, resplendent and magnificent Incubus who also happens to be related to this guy."

Ascanius rolls his eyes.

"What? It's a compliment to be related to me, child," Lilu shushes Ascanius, running a hand down his face.

Ascanius rolls his eyes but accepts his fate. Lilu scans me with a familiar smile. He was always lifting me up to give me bone-crushing hugs I never thought I would miss.

"Hmm. This might sound weird but there is something familiar about you. Was the party really the first time we met?" Lilu questions, leaning forward to scan my eyes.

Ascanius nods at me as if encouraging me to tell Lilu who I am. I grit my teeth. I don't want to reopen Lilu's wounds. He spent two years thinking his little brother is dead. I can't tell him that I'm back.

"This is Virgil. He's a little shy around demons and stuff," Davian covers for me, reaching around to squeeze my shoulder. "He's with me."

Lilu stares at me for a moment longer before standing up straight.

"Anyway, I'm bored and I have an hour to kill before my date with Tu'er Shen. Drinks anyone—?"

"No," Ascanius shuts him down.

Lilu pouts.

"I thought you were dating my ancestor?" Davian asks with an innocence that comes off as kind of cute. Lilu seems to think this way and ruffles his hair.

"Aw, you're a traditional kind of guy. So cute. But I'm not the type to settle."

"Tu'er Shen is the Chinese deity of homosexuality," I explain, "His name means rabbit deity. You can guess why."

"Uh- OH! Too much information!" Davian exclaims, his cheeks lighting up.

"Anyway, I apologise for stealing Ascanius away, but I need to discuss something with him."

With a sigh, Ascanius stands up and casts me a look.

"You should spend the night here."

"I have things to do," I respond, folding my arms.

He seems disheartened by my reply and begins to leave the room with Lilu. Davian clambers to his feet before Lilu can leave though.

"I was hoping you could do me a favour," Davian begins, causing Lilu to raise a brow, "There are a lot of souls wandering around in Gomorrah's hospital. I was wondering if you can ask my ancestor to send reapers to look into that."

"No problem, hot stuff," Lilu agrees before disappearing.

Ascanius gives me a pointed look before disappearing after him.

Sick of the tension, I head off upstairs to get to a mirror. Davian pockets his g*n and follows me.

"Are you going back to GoldVine?"

"Don't worry your pretty head. I'm not going off on a murder spree yet. I'm going to get some sleep."

"In Virgil's room?"

"No, his father's room. I wonder how many morals I can mess up for him by sunlight." I wink at him before shutting myself inside Ascanius' bathroom, only to take a shower and contemplate my life.

When I get out, Virgil's phone buzzes.

Unknown Number (3:45 am)

Just a reminder this arrangement is temporary, but I also realise I wasn't specific when I said I wanted entertainment. I want blood, excitement, vengeance. Not a sappy romance between you and that half-wit. It would have been much more entertaining if you stabbed him in the neck. Why didn't you?

I stare at the text for a moment with grit teeth, tempted to smash the phone on the floor. Before I can, the Host sends me another message.

Unknown Number (3:45 am)

I thought you would also like to know something killed the CEO of St. Valentine's hospital. Some of the reapers went to carry him to the other side met the same fate. The creature who killed them blamed everyone for its misfortune the same way it had Davian. Curious, isn't it? You might also want to know it is after you too. Have fun with that.

-Sincerely, your concerned Host.

I stiffen as the information sinks in. So, not only did that thing hunt Davian, hurt Lavender and killed Candy, it also came after that man and a few reapers. I run a hand through my hair with a loud groan. If I knew that thing would be such a huge problem I would have killed it straight off. But I don't know if this is only one creature. It would make sense the one that went after Davian would kill other reapers. It seemed to have a grudge against those creatures. But, I don't have anything solid to go off.

Fuck it, let it come after me. I will end it.

*

Straight after I'm done showering, I teleport to Virgil's room. I tense and whip out my knife when I see a shadow at the corner of my eye.

"I've come bearing gifts; nachos, salsa, chocolate, these weird candy packets labelled in another language."

I scowl when I see Davian lounging on my bed, reading one of the books from Virgil's shelf with one hand. The other hand is buried in a bag of marshmallows. I yank it out of his hands.

"What the f**k are you doing here?" I whisper, tempted to knock him out and haul his a*s back to Hell.

He raises a finger to his lips.

"You don't want them finding out I'm in here, do you?"

"I don't give a f**k. I swear to god I'm to disembowel you and leave your entrails hanging off this goddamn roof if you don't get your a*s out of here—"

"Colourful imagery," he compliments.

"Davian," I growl, struggling to not raise my voice.

He's getting too much entertainment from this. He doesn't seem too concerned by my exasperation and has the nerve to smile. It's a soft smile that reaches his eyes, something difficult to look away from.

"I've been reading Virgil's textbooks out of boredom. Virgil has a lot of strange drawings of angels."

"What?"

He shows me the book he was reading. At the back few pages, there are pictures scribbled in pen. There are tons of sketches of males with an angelic form. It was as though he was obsessed with drawing them. I shift through the papers, stiffening when there are sketches of a male angel.

And while these sketches were beautiful in the artistic sort of way it was certainly not G rated. Only one isn't depicted as beautiful. His teeth are serrated. Nails are like claws, dripping with blood that ran along his body in streams, along with clumps of flesh. Eyes are sewn shut with puppet strings attached to his bones.

"You think Virgil was onto Cassiel and the whole being-possessed-by-an-angel debacle? He was best friends with him. Maybe he suspected something?" he suggests.

"I'll figure it out later. Get lost."

Davian examines my face for a moment and the smile slips off his face. He puts his book down and sits up to face me.

"I don't like the sound of you sleeping in this town with the psycho grudge around," he admits, his tone becoming serious, "You can go to sleep and I'll just stay awake and on watch in case something happens."

"The f**k do I look to you? A damsel? You're not my f*****g guard dog."

"Invidian, please consider this. I'm honestly terrified by these recent events. What if the grudge woman comes after you because you saved my life? I wouldn't be able to live with myself if that happens," he argues.

I don't want to admit Davian has a point. I need rest but I don't want to keep myself unguarded, but I need to keep him at a distance.

"I doubt you even know how to fight."

He shrugs and gets up to leave. I sigh with relief that the brick head is finally listening to me. As soon as I do, he rapidly yanks my arm. He performs some sort of sweep behind my ankle and twists my arm to force me onto the bed. I end up trapped on top of him, his legs locked at my upper thighs. Somehow, he had gotten a hand on my knife and pressed it against the back of my throat.

"I don't think I'd be as useless as you think," he whispers in my ear, a clear smile in his voice.

I try to break out of his hold, immediately frustrated when I can't. Using my weight against me he flips us over so I'm underneath him. He straddles my hips, hands planted on either side of my head as he leans down.

"What do you say now?" he asks playfully, his lips far too close to mine for comfort.

I curse under my breath, face flushing red. I slam my head against his. He curses and immediately sits up, clutching his forehead in pain. I rub my forehead and curl my lip at him. He peeks an eye open.

"I bet you don't want me to tell Ascanius that we're facing angels."

Oh, so now he's blackmailing me into accepting his help. He takes my silence as a yes.

"For the record, I'd make a wonderful guard dog when I'm serious enough."

My heart beats rapidly at his words. I didn't plan to sleep much anyway, only to rest and keep my ears open. Butterflies flutter in my stomach and I dry swallow. There is so much s**t I have to worry about.

"Are you looking out for my safety because I can help you find that kid?"

"I have a lot of questions but I figure that you don't want to hear it. Yet, it sounds like you've been through a lot and I want to make sure it doesn't get worse for you."

"So, you're helping out of pity."

"So, what if it is a little? That doesn't mean I think less of you. You lost a friend and for some reason, most of your family thinks you're dead. You've lost a lot, Invidian. I won't apologise for trying to make sure you don't lose more," he challenges, trying to suppress his frustration.

I search his face for any trace of a lie but the longer I stare, the more sincere he tends to look. Sincere, but there is something in his eyes that wasn't there before. It reminds me of the way Henley's eyes gleamed with happiness when she talked about Ethelia. It renders me tongue-tied. He seems to sense that before he cups my face with some attempt to make me focus on him.

I can't think of a rational rebuttal to his words when I'm sure there is something. A gasp slips from my lips when his thumbs brush my cheeks. There is something intimate about the way he stares at me now. Eyes half-lidded, ablaze with a passion I don't know how to react to. I begin to get hyper aware of how close he is from the sweet scent of his breath to the way his palms warm my face.

He surveys my face before drawing closer at a slow pace, giving me time to pull away. I can't manage to. Even though my thoughts are racing, I'm exhausted. There is something about his touch that drains away my fight as if my instincts are telling me to give in. To trust him. Stupid instincts.

He wets his lips and dips down to kiss my lips. The kiss is soft and careful as if trying to soothe my frustration. It is as if he's trying to promise me that everything will be fine if I rest for a moment.

I swallow, glancing up at him as he begins to peck at my face. A strange warmth grows in my chest, but I fail to figure out why this feels more intense than making out with him. I can't pull myself away. I can't explain why but I want him to feel him hold me tightly. My thoughts begin to melt away and my senses solely focus on his little kisses that lull me to sleep.