"Wine And Snow"
Part 7
by Mel
This time I'm mistaken
For handing you a heart worth breaking
I've been wrong, I've been down
Been to the bottom of every bottle
These five words in my head
Scream "Are we having fun yet?"
---Nickleback
He couldn’t bring himself to go back to Belial, he was too raw to face his brother at the moment. He needed to go somewhere noisy, somewhere that he could lose his mind to, even if it was for a moment. Unfortunately, there were very few places where he knew he’d be welcome around here at this time of day. Oh, he could have always spirited himself off to another city, but at the moment he craved something familiar.
And so his feet led him where he knew they would in the end. There was nothing overly interesting about the doorway that stood between a butchers and a seven eleven. It was dark, hidden almost entirely in shadow. Red letters were faded, dipped like in blood. They seemed to pulse with life, breathing out into the world. ‘Sin’ they read and seemed to call. It was not as strong in the light of day, but when the sun went down the words seem to glow with their own unworldly light, tempting, calling people to its light.
Asmodeus opened the door as if he owned the place. And on one level, he did. Sin was his idea, his club. It lured mortals and tainted them on a scale that boggled the mind. Here perversion, lust and decadence found new meaning, and mortals quite simply gave themselves up to it. It helped that they remembered very little of their visit the next morning, save the craving to go back and the satisfaction of doing something naughty. But that was at night. During the day the place was a welcome place for demons who had nowhere else to go.
He walked down a dirty hallway bathed in pulsing neon blue lights and a set of stairs to a black door where symbols as old as time tempted more than any one demon ever could. He had had to get his brother’s and Lucifer’s help on those, they took more power than the three of them put together. He opened the door and melted into his world.
The first thing one noticed about Sin was that it was dark, almost pitch black. Coloured lights gave enough light to see by, though they were obscured slightly by the smoke from spicy incense that hung in the air. The beat of the music, bone crunching, soul-spinning bass echoed up the walls to the high ceiling. Asmodeus closed his eyes, letting the deep sound that pounded through him ease the ache of his heart. The tired sigh rolled from his tongue and he rolled his head, easing the kinks and stretching the muscles in his neck.
When he opened his eyes, he felt no better. Resigning himself to the fact this feeling wasn’t going away anytime soon, he trudged down and into Sin. There were many short couches which adorned random areas of the room. There was a stage and Asmodeus wondered vaguely who was dancing tonight. Hopefully Liv or Harry, or even both of them. They always drew a big crowd. There was a dance floor beside the Stage and it was large enough to fit a good number of people on it. Now it held only a few demons on it, letting their bodies move to the pulsing beat.
Asmodeus walked passed them to the bar that sat along the back wall. Here one could find the only decent lighting in the whole building, and even then it was just faint enough for the demons that worked behind the counter to see by. The counter was opaque and Asmodeus could see his reflection easily in it. He sat at the furthest end, trying to remain invisible, and leant over, grabbing the first bottle and glass his hands came into to contact with.
Vodka. Not quite his favourite, but it’d do. He upended the bottle, pouring as much into the short glass as he could with out letting it over flow. Asmodeus opened his mouth, letting his lips purse over the rim of the glass before lifting it up with his mouth and tilting his head back. He took the glass in one swallow, without using his hands, letting the alcohol burn down his throat. Placing the glass back on the counter, he began filling it a second time.
"I know a depressive drunk when I see one; what’s thrown a spanner in your works Boss?"
Asmodeus didn’t have to look up to know who was talking to him, he’d know that cheery voice anywhere. Hell, he was the one who said he’d be the best for this job, though Asmodeus was still trying to work out what he’d been on to make that sort of ridiculous decision. He didn’t even bother acknowledging Baal, hoping if he ignored him, he’d go away.
No such luck as Baal came into his eye line. Baal was as tall as Belial, with olive skin and sinful dark eyes, with hair was as dark as his eyes. He wore Sin’s uniform, red leather pants, no shirt, and thick studded collar around his neck. The collar had his mortal name, Craig, branded across it.
The demon Baal gave off an amazingly strong feel of sex and lust, honed only slightly by the disarming smile that could creep across his face at any moment. His hands were running a dishcloth over a glass in a manner that, somehow, managed to look suggestive. Asmodeus barely acknowledged the demon, nothing more then a short glance towards him.
"Piss off, Baal."
"No," the demon’s lips curved, eyes sparkling somewhere between worry, lust and something completely Baal-like. "You look like you could use the company instead of drowning in our alcohol."
Asmodeus growled. "It’s mine to do with as I choose, I do run this place ‘Craig’!"
"Ah ha," Baal took the bottle. After a slight struggle the taller demon wrenched it from his grip. "You’re still not drinking yourself into oblivion. You’re brother would quite happily tear me a new arsehole, thank you very much." He put the bottle on the back shelf behind him before turning to Asmodeus who was drinking the last of his vodka, looking put out. "Did you want to talk about it?"
"No."
"Fair enough. Here, have some water."
Dom scowled at the water and then at Baal’s turned back. If he had wanted water, he would have dunked his head in the sea. He wanted alcohol, even if he couldn’t get drunk. He wanted something to dull the pain that lanced through his body, needed something to erase the memory of stolen moments with Michael. If he couldn’t forget, he was sure the sight of the fear in Michael’s eyes would send him mad. He shouldn’t have gone, he should have stayed with Belial and slept. Then Michael could have gone on hating them, never knowing how they felt, what their weakness was.
And now, now he would have to live with the fact that Michael knew, and he hated them. Asmodeus was staring at his hands as his knuckles went white against the glass. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself-
Two hands reached around his body, covering his hands, easing over the fine muscles and bones found there. They eased the tension until the death grip on the glass lessened. He felt warm breath ghost over his neck as his throat tightened and he felt a sting at the back of his eyes. No, he was not going to cry.
He wasn’t, not as Belial laid his head on his shoulder. Certainly not as lips found his pulse, touching gently. Michael would just be smug to see him cry.
"He won’t see you here, love." Damn Belial and his ability to read him like a book. "Please don’t hide on me, Ami."
The first of Asmodeus’s sobs seemed to explode from his lungs like a gust of air, seeking relief outside him. The second tore both brothers apart with the force of its sorrow. They didn’t stop with two but continued on and on until the number could not even be counted anymore. Belial drew his brother from the stool, taking him in his arms, murmuring tenderly in an ancient language long since forgotten by mortals.
He caught Baal’s eyes over the top of Asmodeus’ head. The other demon’s deep eyes were full as he looked at them both. Baal was a hopeless romantic after all.
"Let Liv know we’ll be dancing first tonight," Belial told him, "can you make the arrangements?" Belial didn’t wait for a reply as he carried his brother from the front room and towards the back and the private rooms he knew to be found there.
~~~~~
Michael wasn’t sure where he could even begin his search for the two demons. Not that he knew what he’d do when he found them. Uriel's words had left him even more confused than before. It had been easier to be angry; at least with fury, he knew where he stood. Now he was completely lost on what he was to do with these new thoughts in his head.
All he knew for certain was that he must find Asmodeus, or Belial, or both if he could help it. He had to talk to them, he had to try and find reasons for these new feelings or else he was sure he’d go mad. Michael didn’t like his chances of going to Hell alone and he was certain the only Angel who would go with him was Uriel and he was busy. So the only other option was to find either of them on Earth. Easier said than done.
For a while, Michael wandered around in a daze, not really sure where he was going. It wasn’t long till he was drawn to the one place in this city that was the most tainted. He looked at the grey door and the red letters in surprise. The sun was beginning to go down and he was surprised to see a line out in front of the plain door. The people in the line weren’t your normal club going group. Some were businessmen and women, some were young mothers or fathers. Some were even grandparents. They were normal people really, all waiting for one thing. To get inside the club.
At the door stood a demon. He was eyeing Michael in interest, obviously an angel wasn’t something he usually saw around here. This would probably be the best place to try and find Belial or Asmodeus, the Angel realised.
With the decision made, he strode toward the door, past the line of people waiting. He was almost surprised when the demon opened the door for him, winking saucily. "You’ve picked a good night to show up Angel Boy, the boss is dancing."
Michael managed a look of barely constrained irritation, even though he was intrigued. He hadn’t known Lucifer would lower himself to dancing for mortals. He breezed past the demon and made his way down the corridor that pulsed lightly with the sound of heavy bass.
When he opened the door, the sound assaulted his senses, flowing over him. His nose wrinkled in distaste, he had never understood the human’s need to make sound in such a way. Still, he made his way into the dark. With the line that was outside, he wasn’t too surprised to see the number of people inside skyrocket. He couldn’t believe just how tainted this place felt. The Angels had their work cut out for them if every city had one of these places well established in them.
Making his way to the only lighted place in the room, he threaded his small body through the throngs of people. It was almost like the sea, waves of people, all hands and lingering touches, crashing down on top of him. By the time he reached the bar, Michael was sure he’d been groped in every part known to man.
Michael slipped quickly into a spare stool, breathing a sigh of relief as the crowd seemed to melt away from him. He was grateful really, the thick crowds, especially those being tainted, made him nervous. Resting his elbows on the black expanse of the bar top, he let his head fall into his hands.
What was he doing here? What was this insane urge to talk to two demons who had betrayed him and the trust he had placed in them? And why, oh why, did he long to be near them again? Michael should just leave, and he shouldn’t go near them. He didn’t realise someone had sat themselves next to him until he lifted his head.
And jumped in surprise at the pair of dark coal eyes that stared at him. They belonged to a woman, or more likely, he thought on second glance, a succubus. He now understood what the term meant. This demon was built to taint the most chaste of men and women. Creamy skin moulded over perfect cheekbones and down to full red lips. Dark hair, the colour indistinguishable in the low light, cascaded over the curve of bare shoulders.
She wore an off the shoulder dress made of black lace. It looked as if black spider webs clung to her, leaving nothing to the imagination, clinging to each curve of her graceful body. The dress barely covered her arse and rode up as her body was draped across the bar as she watched him. There was a dark garter encircling one thigh with a crimson ribbon threaded through it. The ribbon continued to crisscross down that one leg till it tied of at a bare ankle, enhancing her bare feet.
Her most prominent feature, however, were the blood red wings that hung around her body for the whole world to see. The feathers were more than slightly ruffled, and on second inspection, her lips they were bruised and parted slightly. Michael did not want his mind to supply the reasons for her state though it seemed to ignore him and do it anyway, causing the Angel to flush ever so slightly. Damn this mortal form.
Her chin rested on her palm, fingers curled as she watched him like a hawk.
"So you’re Michael," she smiled, lips curving over teeth. "Always thought you’d be taller." Michael was not sure how to react to the demon and so settled for returning her stare. She was still smiling as a man wandered past them, hand trailing down the feathered wings and over her arse. She didn’t even flinch, in fact, her back arched slightly and she leaned into the rough caress. She made a soft purring sound at the back of her throat.
"I’m glad you’re here, the boss is dancing."
"Why would Lucifer lower himself to dance for these," another man leant over the succubus, whispering in her ear as he caressed her, she had to ask him to leave before she made a gesture for Michael to continue, "mortals?"
Her smile only seemed to grow. "And who said that Lucifer was the boss?" The music changed, the beat deepening echoing over Michael’s body. "Ah, and here they are now."
Michael’s eyes moved to the stage and his mouth went slack. There, half naked, their chests gleaming in the blue lights of the club, was Asmodeus and Belial and they were both looking straight at him.
If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Mel
go to PART 8