Mortal Wounds

Chapter Ten

Invidian's POV

"We held a funeral for you," Cosmo whispers as I assess myself in Vanitas' mirror.

His face behind me is cautious, torn between disbelief and an overwhelming urge to embrace me. My nephew barely recognises me hiding in this mortal form, but the red glow emanating from my eyes is enough to tip him off. Red eyes are a trademark of those born into the Lilith family.

Vanitas' condo is grand with needlessly lavish furniture. In the living room area sits a glass dining table decorated with fake flowers, surrounded with white leather chairs. The white leather matches the rest of the furniture. Other fun features include the television screen that sticks onto his wall, chandeliers, and a large pool seen through the wall of windows to my right. This isn't even his main house.

"That's the reason why I didn't want to reveal myself."

To his credit, Cosmo held off his guilt-tripping until after we got Davian to safety. I felt a strong pull to help him, rather than abandon him to the creatures which linger in those aqueducts. However, I was not qualified to play doctor, especially with the blood I was losing. Foam gushed from Davian's mouth and I panicked, unsure whether he was poisoned. Backed into a corner, I called Cosmo using his phone.

"I am Invidian, son of Lilith. I broke out of Purgatory and I am back," I told him, revealing my identity to his disbelief.

He manifested before me and eyes bore into mine. I resisted the urge to look away, relieved he decided to help rather than blast me backwards through time and space.

"Reapers have visions when they come into contact with blood," he explained, healing my arm before teleporting us all to Vanitas' condo in Hell.

After laying Davian in bed, I endured Cosmo's staring. I washed off the blood in the bathroom sink, and he followed like a phantom too painful to look at. Silence stretched between us until I looked at him. Hurt consumed his face.

"I can't keep your secret," he tells me, running a hand through his chestnut hair, "Father will skin me alive for not telling him this sooner."

He shudders dramatically as I roll my eyes. Lilu would sooner spoil them rotten than lift a hand to harm his own children. Losing family members does that to a person.

"Then don't tell him," I shrug.

He rubs his temples to keep his anger in check.

"Your secret keeping always pissed me off," he grunts.

"Please, you wouldn't have believed me if I revealed who I was earlier. I would have been murdered on the spot."

He opens his mouth to argue then rubs his jaw, thinking of a reasonable argument. I shake my head and wipe down my arms with a towel. My reflection reveals a pallid young man with dried blood on my face and arms.

"We had so much to say. So much we wanted to share with you."

"Like what?"

"I found love," he mentions with nervous laughter and I arch a brow, "I shared this at your grave, but his name is Kellin, my previous roommate. He hates my guts though. Dammit, this hurts. I never thought I'd see you again. I thought you'd remain trapped in Purgatory forever."

He grabs his chest and tears well in his eyes. I arch a brow, not remembering a time where he showed his emotions so expressively. It's difficult to register the fact my disappearance meant so much to him.

"Wipe your tears. I am here now."

His embrace is warm as he hugs me and laughs with tears spilling from his eyes. I swallow, unable to take the sound, haunted by a past I don't fully remember. Everything is so overwhelming, I feel numb.

"Aye, you could have at least tried somethin' other than gettin' me into hot water with Dad. When did you even have the time to pinch my phone and text everyone that you're alive? Now I am hidin' from the rest of the family so I don't get a permanently swollen face from how many times everyone is gonna b***h slap me, you asshole."

"I apparently do regrettable things when I am drunk."

He crushes my bones in his arms so tightly, I cannot escape.

He squeezes me tighter and my shoulders slump in defeat. I didn't want to tell anyone I was alive. My presence will only reopen the wounds my death left. It will undo the work my family has made to move on. I'm an added number to the hundreds of people they thought who already lost their lives in the battle between demons and angels. He finally lets me go and jerks his thumb up Vanitas' winding staircase.

"What you plannin' on doin' with the reaper you rescued?"

"I want to get him out of here before Vanitas gets back from work. No doubt he's busy doing tasks for the Sin of Greed at the moment."

"We're not leavin' until you tell Vanitas you're back."

If I'm forced to tell Vanitas what's been happening, word is going to spread like wildfire. I can't try escaping either. I'm in a mortal body and don't have the power to leave Hell alone.

"The mortal realm is dangerous for Davian since the guy playing games with me is now gunning for him. He's a sitting duck if he goes back."

I have a feeling the reaper was targeted because he was seen with me. Perhaps the Host took an interest in him to antagonize me. This could have something to do with some sort of God complex, entertainment, or straight up sadism. I wonder if this is one of his hidden rules; to not get close to anyone otherwise, they'll end up dead. He could be trying to scare me off from getting close to anyone. To get me to isolate myself out of fear. The question is if I submit to that or if I give his challenge the finger. Cosmo's groans when he realises that I don't have a plan.

"I guess I can try to contact his brother. The guy is pretty hard to keep track of."

"Surely he will respond if he knows if his brother is in danger."

He snorts at my naivety.

"He doesn't have the luxury to take the family for granted. Unlike you, he's not a pampered prince." I glare and he continues unapologetically, "His brother gives him 'tough love' where he ignores him in hopes he will stand on his own feet. He's all like 'you got yourself into that situation, so get yourself out or don't speak to me.'"

Surely, this only just leaves a person with trust and abandonment issues.

"He almost died," I point out, thinking that would count for something. Apparently, it does not with the way Cosmo shrugs.

"It's just how he is. Although, he'd more likely help if Davian starts transporting souls to the other side."

"He refuses to?"

I've heard of reapers dreading their job or letting their jobs turn them into sociopathic assholes, but I've never heard of one challenging the reason they were created. How interesting.

"Let's cut a deal: if you get him to accept his destiny, then I will try extra hard to contact Kellin."

In short, he's not going to bother helping if I don't.

"What do you get out of this?"

"Uh, I'll take the credit to convince Kellin I'm fuckable. I've been trying to get in his pants for years, this might actually do it."

"Is he the object of your desire?"

"Bingo."

"You, an incubus, can't get someone in bed?"

He rolls his eyes at me.

"Reapers are resistant to our charms. Besides, he's a homophobe with massive trust issues."

Kellin playing hard to get is precisely why Cosmo thinks he's in love. Davian's brother is Cosmo's f*******n fruit. I scratch the back of my neck, wondering if I should take him up on his deal. The longer Davian stays here, the riskier this becomes. If he figures out I am meant to be doing time in Purgatory, he could blab to other reapers. I could lose my one shot at freedom. I suppose I do owe it to Davian to help him out. If I hadn't of met him, I doubt he would have been attacked.

"If you promise to stay quiet about my situation."

"It isn't his silence you should be concerned about, kid," a familiar voice chimes in and I see the reflection of Vanitas, light beige blonde hair gelled back from his face.

His red eyes are jewels, contrasting against his pale, expressionless face and the formal suit he wears. Tension grows like a suffocating heat wave. He must have heard us speak about my identity because he does not attack us. Then his eyes land on Cosmo, accusatory, and his stare proceeds to creep him out. Cosmo gulps, sweating bullets as Vanitas begins to stalk towards him.

"You explain everything to everyone. Got it. I'm out," Cosmo blurts at me and vanishes.

Damn, and here I was hoping he would do a little bit of the explaining. Vanitas' eyes become fixed on me with an intense stare. My eyes flick up when there's thump and a loud curse upstairs.

"Looks like your Sleeping Beauty is up. Might as well tend to him," Vanitas drawls, resting his suitcase on the table.

He's always been skilled at hiding his emotions. As a kid, I used to follow him around, trying to figure him out. I wanted to know how he could walk around as if nothing in the world affected him. Out of envy, I tried to replicate him. I failed so bad if I went back in time to show my younger self what a wreck we've become, he would b***h slap me. When Vanitas says nothing further, I walk upstairs, wondering what he thinks of this. He must recognise me because if he didn't, I would be dead. He doesn't appreciate strangers in his condo without permission. But if he knows it is me, he would have expressed more than... whatever that was.

Did he even mourn your death? Did he even batter an eyelash?

Of course, he did. He's my brother. I begin to feel uncomfortable, wondering if I should leave. I fling the door open to the guest room which is nothing less than unnecessarily extravagant. One wall is made up of ten-foot-high windows, allowing gold light to pour into the bedroom from the city's buildings. The room is assorted into the colours of gold and black, including the king-sized bed Davian fell off. He lies on the floorboards, gasping for air.

"No, don't push me. Stop," he babbles, whacking my face. I curse then realise his eyes are glazed as if he's seeing something that I'm not. I thought he finished seizing ten minutes ago.

"Let go of me!"

"Wake up," I shout at him.

He jolts up and flings his arms around me, squeezing tightly as he tries to regain his senses. I stiffen, not expecting that. I can feel the way his body violently jerks and trembles, and how his heart is beating so fast, I'm surprised he isn't going completely haywire.

"Virgil, what are you doing here?" he mumbles, clearly still out of it, "Let me go..."

Oh, f**k this. I b***h slap his cheek two times harder than he hit me. He snaps out of it and slowly clutches his cheek.

"Ow, that hurt," he whines, beginning to recollect himself.

At least the good old' slap 'em out of it trick worked. He glances around in a daze, his body threatening to tumble over onto his side. I rest him against the headboard of the king-sized bed.

"Do you see me? It's the demon possessing Virgil. Nod if you understand me." He gives me a sluggish nod before examining the bedroom. "We are at a friend 's home. I brought you here after you had a seizure."

Swaying with grogginess, he reaches out to my shoulder and pulls down my shirt from its collar. His touch is warm against my skin.

"Didn't The Ring-reject bite you?"

"Supernatural healing is a blessing."

He nods in understanding before realization crawls into his eyes. With an adventure of different facial expressions, I can tell his memories hit him. Once it does, his eyes bulge so big, it is a wonder they don't fall out of their sockets.

"Holy s**t, the town thinks I'm some sort of psycho! Lavender started screaming and accusing me of attacking her for some reason." He scrambles out of bed. I catch him before face planting. "Why would she think that?! I never touched her, ever! I need to talk to her. I need to tell her I wasn't involved."

"What happened exactly?"

He grits his teeth in frustration and his eyes snap fire.

"You knew I was going to be attacked. How?" he challenges me.

"I asked first."

His jaw ticks but pulls away from my grip. He balances himself on his feet as if trying to reject all forms of my help. Too late, b***h, I already had to lug your fat a*s up to Hell and out my secret out to two family members who thought I was dead.

He explains what happened, his voice accelerating more as his explanation goes on, to the point he somehow brings himself to another level of panic. I massage my jaw at his rant. There is no way the host orchestrated this. This operation would have taken days in advance. He would have to know I would connect with Davian, but our encounter seems too random for that. Even if he knew, I don't know why he would do this. Who else could have taken the photo of Davian in those aqueducts? As I try to figure out this mess, Davian shoves past me and stumbles for the door. I immediately shut the door before he could leave. Or more specifically, somehow get himself beheaded for pissing Vanitas off. The list on how-to piss that demigod off is so extensive, it is impossible not to tick him off. Davian wouldn't stand a chance.

"Go back to town and you will be arrested," I warn him, gathering that much from what he's told me, "Besides, you're not in the mortal plane anymore. You'll need permission from a resident from Hell to leave and the powers to."

"You're a demon."

"Yeah, but I'm not a resident of Hell. Not anymore."

His eyes bulge.

"W—wait. Do you actually mean Hell? As in hellfire and Satan and what not?"

"Not as much fire as I would like it to have, but yes, that kind of Hell. Specifically, you're in Vanitas' spare room of his condo situated in Hell's main city, Pandemonium. It's run by the Sin of Greed himself, Dinero, also named Mammon."

He gives me a weird look, waiting for me to say that I'm joking. When he realises I'm dead serious, he rushes to the window and gawks. Pandemonium is paved in gold and bright lights, illuminating everything with a reflection. Demons, humanoid in appearance, walk like shadows of the mortal realm. The pure red eye colour that covers all our eyes is a pretty signature for those who are related to Lilith and demons who make deals with mortals. Royal class demons normally have unnaturally bright blue or golden eyes. Lower class demons have black eyes. Like most of Hell, this city mirrors the mortal realm, or as close as it can with a gothic architectural twist to most buildings and far more advanced power and technology. Instead of cars being the primary function of driving is mainly teleportation. However, you do get the occasional car fans hold races at Hell's borders.

Hell is a parallel world of the mortal realm, only separated by a thin Veil. The Veil is a means to get to other types of realms such as the Greek Underworld, Celtic Underworld, Japanese Underworld, Helheim, and such, if you have the right power to. Most realms are nationalistic and travelling to another one without permission can be seen as aggression, and gods don't take that s**t lightly. Davian backs away from the window, slack-jawed before he shoots me a defiant glare.

"I want to leave. Now."

"First you should—"

"I need to tell Lavender she mistook me for someone else, otherwise they won't take the proper precautions to protect her," he splutters with a strange sense of determination in his eyes.

I scratch the back of my head. The town treated him like s**t for the entire time he was there, but he wants to help. No one can be that selfless without hoping to get something out of it.

"You're the kid everyone distrusts, and you ran away when they tried to arrest you. Face it, they don't have any reason to take your word for face value," I try to reason with him but he looks at me as if I'm the bad guy here.

"So, what? Do you expect me to wait around here?"

"Cosmo is trying to get in touch with your brother. I'm going to go to the mortal realm and see if there's anything that can be done about your reputation," I state, heading for the door.

He grips my arm.

"This all has something to do with you, doesn't it?"

I wanted to leave before he could ask me that.

"I didn't think anything like this would happen," I admit with a shrug.

He presses his eyes as if wishing this away.

"You ruined my life," he utters behind grit teeth.

That stings more than it should have.

"But you didn't do anything. Surely, once everything calms down, they will find out—"

"No one will defend me. Everyone already assumed the worst of me! I might have hated that town but at least I had somewhere to go. Kellin isn't going to like this."

His voice is so raw, rageful, and defeated, it makes my chest clench. He sits down on the bed and buries his face in his hands. I shift around from foot to foot trying to figure out how to console him. What do I do to cheer him up? Hug him? Punch him and tell him to grow up? I have no idea and I swear if he cries, I swear I will malfunction.

"Just leave me alone."

Somehow, leaving him feels like the wrong move but I don't know what else to do. He's probably disgusted by my presence right now because he is right. If he hadn't met me this probably wouldn't have happened. Hell, maybe even Henley would be alive if I hadn't gotten involved with her. Perhaps that's why my Purgatory was her room. The thought makes my stomach curdle. f**k, I can't seem to do anything right.

Respecting his wishes, I shut the door behind me. Once I gather the nerve, I walk downstairs, finding Vanitas sitting on the couch.

"He's rather insolent. If he spoke to me that way I would have ripped out his tongue," he states, flicking through some mortal fashion magazine.

I almost forgot that he has supernatural hearing.

"His words were justified," I return.

"You should have moved on by now," he puts out there, "You should have reincarnated. You're not meant to remember me, or any of your life. I've never heard of anyone getting out of Purgatory with memories of their past. I fail to see how you got out of there in the first place."

I explain the entire situation to him. By the time I'm done he is constantly massaging his temples. I wander off to the windows, pretending to be occupied by the scenery when I can't concentrate on the sight in the least.

"I want to know what happened to me and Henley."

"If that's what you wanted, you wouldn't have hesitated to say that," he points out with an exasperated sigh, "Can I see the blade you were talking about?"

He stands behind me with an outstretched hand. I hesitate a bit, clutching my pocket.

"You really are Invidian, aren't you?" it is more like a statement.

I arch my brow at him.

"What made you say that?"

"You always had a habit of thinking off into space while squeezing your pointing fingers when you were nervous."

I look down to see that I am. I hadn't even noticed I was doing that. It's strange that he noticed when I had no idea.

"I have never harmed you." I peer up to see his calm expression. "I would not start now, not ever, brother."

I nod, taking the knife out. I place the hilt in his palm. He examines it, tilting his head in curiosity. He opens the blade and comes to stand in front of me. He holds it in front of my eyes. Its clean surface shows my reflection. I grimace, realising how much of a mess Virgil looks like because of me. When I look away, Vanitas moves the knife back into vision.

"People say staring at your own reflection is vain, but those people can't face the reflection which stares back at them," he tells me, "Look into your own eyes and try to understand the rage, the pain, the fear you feel from life f*****g you over. Don't be afraid of it. Understand what you see, then either learn to accept it or let your fury fuel you."

I'm tempted to tell him that I'm fine, but he'd call me out on my bullshit. I give in to his instructions, not exactly seeing what he means.

"You have two options. You spend your time trying to figure out how to permanently stay out of Purgatory. I can allow you to stay here and we can figure this out, but there's the chance we won't succeed. If the overseer of Purgatory realises you somehow got out, he would most likely take you back there and there wouldn't be a thing anyone could do about it."

How encouraging.

"Or you could figure out what this 'host' wants. Play his game and in the meanwhile, hunt down and tear apart the worlds of whoever was involved in killing you and that Henley mortal."

"I want to move on." I don't want to be back in Purgatory again.

"That's just it, you haven't, you simply forgot the truth. None of us even know how you died. If you do find out how you died, there is no guarantee you won't be livid, no guarantee you wouldn't want vengeance."

"Why do you say that? Do you know what happened?"

"From what you said, you are most likely the man found dead in that girl's apartment."

I thought that was the case, but that means someone murdered me. Someone thought it was OK to end my life, to steal all possibilities of my desires coming to life, to steal me from my family, and to make them mourn my death. They also thought it was OK to kill a mortal I connected with, then covered up what happened. Vanitas senses my irritation and nods.

"We don't know how you died. You went missing for months. We tried to find you but there was no sign of you, then one-day Ascanius found a letter in his room from an anonymous sender saying you were dead. It had your blood on the paper, so we assumed the worst. We thought an angel killed you. Whatever happened though, I don't see how you can move on from that within a month." His hands me the knife. "It might be the safest choice to play along with this stranger. Meanwhile, I'll see what I can do."

"This knife— you don't suppose what he is trying to say is kill everyone who was involved in my death, do you?"

"It seems likely. If you do, you should know how to get away with the art of murder by now, powers or not."

What is better: spending the time I have left on making happy memories or dedicating myself to f**k my murderer's over people?

"I should get back to the mortal realm. I'm going to see how things are going to turn out for Davian," I finally say.

Vanitas scans me as if trying to figure out what is going through my head. After a moment, he gives up with a sigh and grabs my wrist. I curse as a burning sensation sears my arm, but he doesn't let go for a few minutes.

"What the f**k?" I demand when he finally let's go.

"I gave you the ability to travel through from the Veil, the mortal realm and Hell. You're welcome, ungrateful brat" he snorts, folding his arms.

I look down to see a burn in the shape of his sigil, a symbol demons use, kind of like a personal number. Under the right conditions you can summon them, by chanting their enn, invoking them, within an infernal circle, and to wait if they're bothered to answer the call. It's also a mark that shows what they own. I'm now technically his property. I press my hand against it, watching the sigil on my wrists glow a vivid shade of red. I cut him a dry look.

"Did you really have to mark me?"

"Our siblings have an affinity for vengeance. I'm willing to argue it's a hereditary trait. Like our mother, we do not take things lying on our backs. If you turn out to be no exception, I'm here to assist you," he states before stiffly patting my head, "Welcome back, brother."