"Wine And Snow"
Part 8
by Beryll
The flames getting higher
I pray for rain
and I'm falling
I'm falling in love
---Warlock
It took Michael a long moment to realize that Asmodeus and Belial could not be looking at him. The stage was drenched in burning red light and the light at the bar was so gloomy that it was impossible for them to notice him. Still he tried to make himself even smaller, shrinking behind a broad-backed mortal, who was watching the stage with rapt attention.
The whole audience in the club had gone quiet, when the light on stage had come on, they all seemed to hold their breath and Michael had to admit that he understood perfectly well why. The two demons on stage looked their best. Clad in matching red and black leather pans riding low on their hips, hugging perfectly shaped limbs.
They stood at different ends of the stage. Asmodeus right at the edge, scanning the crowd as if looking for someone, Belial further in the back, seemingly completely oblivious to all the eyes that watched him, running his hands caressingly over his own body, eyes half closed and probably out of focus with passion. And the music wasn't even on yet.
Hands from the people right at the stage stretched to touch Asmodeus when he started prowling the edge like a hungry predator, his eyes still searching the crowd. What was he looking for, Michael asked himself. Some of the hands managed to touch his ankles, the naked skin of his feet and Michael felt desire flair in these mortals.
Then he noticed the low drumbeat, starting oh so slowly. It was like a tide rolling in from far away, gaining momentum and when the wave broke and the club was suddenly filled with the scream of wounded guitars, Asmodeus whirled away from the crowd as if the music had captured him unprepared, as if it had taken hold if his body and now twisted and moved it at its will.
Belial was his counterpoint moving slowly as if only the even drumbeat existed in his world. He seemed to float on the music, his feet always slightly dragging, his hands never leaving his own skin and Michael felt an itch in his own fingers that scared him. He wanted to leave but found his eyes glued to the stage.
Neither of the two demons was dancing for the crowd, he realized. They were dancing only for themselves or - in Belial's case - loving themselves. They were only allowing the people to witness their exquisite beauty and skill.
A deep snarl of anger formed on Michael's lips. Anger and - strangely - envy. Envy because all these worthless mortals were allowed to see what should have been his alone. They had been made for him, they were his. None should witness them like this unless he said so. How dare they... throw themselves away like this.
It hurt more than he would have expected. It rubbed in the bitter truth of what he had lost all those years ago. They could have been his, had he been just a bit more perceptive.
He watched together with the crowd as they drew nearer and nearer to each other on the stage, waited for them to finally join and gasped with all the others when they passed each other by only an inch. He wanted to see them together, wanted to see them touch each other, wanted to bear witness that they were still able to love even if they were creatures of darkness, wanted to be sure that they at least had each other, if... if they could not have him.
His heart went still with this thought. Yes, truly. That was why he had come looking for them. Not because he wanted answers, not because he wanted to talk to them even. He just wanted to make sure they were all right, that he had not harmed them seriously. How strange to feel so much love in his heart suddenly. It filled him to overflowing with a warmth he had never known before. So different from the warmth that the love of god filled him with. It was the feeling of truly caring for someone that made him understand, what it felt like to be good. And he also realized that he could forgive. That there was no such thing as an unforgivable crime. That god may be relentless but that he himself was not.
Michael watched silently, as Asmodeus and Belial danced on stage. Again and again they passed each other, sometimes inches apart, sometimes their fingertips brushing the skin of the other but always they moved on in their own path, seemingly oblivious to the other person who shared the stage and the dance. He held his breath with the mortals waiting, hoping that they might find each other. There was nothing tainting in their dance, nothing tempting even. Only a quiet, desperate love that hurt the heart, that made every soul in the club cry out for love and affection.
How could demons inspire something so pure, Michael wondered. Shouldn't the crowd have been caught in the throes of passion by now? Shouldn't they grab each other in carnal delights instead of watching the two men on stage search for each other in their dance. He felt the heart of all these mortals go out to the two demons on stage, trying to move their bodies with their sheer well-wishing so they might finally meet.
The song was almost at an end, the screams of the guitars dying down to sad, defeated whispers, the drumbeat far of, a solitary pipe singing a farewell when it happened. Again they had drawn closer to each other again their movements seemed to draw them apart when Belial's hands snaked out from his own body and caught his brother in midstride. Asmodeus stopped transfixed, trembling with the energy trapped in his lean limbs but otherwise utterly still.
Belial's hands ran over his sweating skin and the crowd watched as Asmodeus head sank back, imagining the sigh that might escape him now. The tune of the pipe changed slightly, now not sad but thoughtful, maybe slightly questioning, the drumbeat so low it only reverberated in the blood.
Tension seemed to run like water out of Asmodeus body and Michael watched with fascination as Belial drew him into his arms, gently trailing his fingertips along Asmodeus jaw. Their bodies pressed against each other, both shivering now they sank to their knees, while the pipe changed yet again to a soft love song.
They ended their dance on the floor, kneeling opposite each other, their head resting on the others shoulder, holding each other tight, excluding their audience and all the world to the quiet comfort they shared. Then the lights on stage went out and the pipe ended the song with a long sad note.
"Now that was different." said the succubus next to Michael, reminding him most unwelcome that there was something like reality. "Usually they have sex on stage."
Michael started at her in shock. They did WHAT?
The succubus just smiled at him seductively. "Sooo... angel-boy... what can we serve you with?"
Michael felt the distinct need to draw his flame-blade and end the existence of this vile creature but right now he had more important matters to take care of. But he made a mental note to take care of the little bitch at another time.
He got of his bar stool ignoring her amused smile and listened to what he heard in his heart. He needed to find them. Needed to find out if they might be willing to forgive all the hurt he had seen in their dance. Needed to see if their was a chance to reclaim what was rightfully his.
They were somewhere behind the stage. He wound his way through the crowd that was now mostly moving towards the bar to wet their throats after the dance they had witnessed. He saw quite a few faces that were streaked with tears, saw total strangers comfort each other. What a strange display.
Finally he found a small black door leading to the staff area behind the stage and Michael was thankful there was no demon guarding it. The last thing he wanted now was a discussion that might end in bloodshed.
The silence on the other side of the door was deafening after the noise in the club. The hallway he stood in was as dimly lit as the club itself and the walls were painted a deep red. Maybe this was not a staff area but just a more private part of the club. Michael's stomach churned with the thought of what it might be used for.
He just followed his instincts to an unmarked black door and opened it without knocking. He didn't want to give them a chance to disappear on him.
What he found was not what he expected. They were not alone. A distinguished looking man in grey suit stood in the middle of the room beaming with happiness. Belial reclined on a giant bed covered with red and black velvet, smiling seductively, while Asmodeus was kneeling in front of the man, about to open his trousers. All three turned when Michael suddenly opened the door, all three looked thoroughly shocked.
Michael noted with faint amusement how Asmodeus recoiled from the man the moment he noticed who had intruded so unexpectedly, but his much stronger emotion was raging anger at the fact that anybody might lay a finger on his... well... they were not his angels anymore but he wanted them to be his none the less.
His voice was brimming with burning rage when he spoke to the man: "Out. Right now."
Whoever the mortal might be, he was smart enough not to question but to make an immediate disappearance. Both demons looked on in open-mouthed astonishment, as Michael closed the door behind him.
Asmodeus caught himself first. "How dare you..." he started to complain, but Michael moved faster than he could talk. Now that he finally knew what he wanted acting came quite easy. He had always been much better at acting than at thinking.
With two strides he was next to Asmodeus, drawing him up from his knees and into his arms to kiss him violently.
If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Beryll
go to PART 9