Everbound Book One, Chapter Four: The Destiny You Know & The Angel You Don't. Part 1.

It's been so long, folks, forgive me, but I was finally able to get this first part out among life and other projects. With that being said, I know the dialogue is a bit chunky or this is a bit rough, most of it was written in an inspiration-riddled week. 

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Thousands of years seemed to pass in those flames as her being plummeted. Even if the golden strands lapped at the edge of her spotless floorboards, yet to be grasped by the stern hand of ash. Her braced muscles came to expect nothing under her other than egger plumes and pained breaths. Smoke seemed to burn through her tongue like the bile that sat on it. Death was a bitter taste found in the depths of crackling embers, and that focused gaze as if it was daring her to scream. What little sound that was in her palpating heart was stolen by looping words.

Be not, she was being commanded even in the face of brimstone; Be not. What else could she be? There was no journal, no dream to hide behind. Was there one to begin with?

Sweat danced in silver spirals across her face, dragging down eyelashes and forging a gray-toned pathway for tears. The ones that built behind wide eyes with a warmth that melted into the flames that crept up shaking arms and tensing hands. It rolled through flesh and upset nerves with a tenderness, their shining reflection never nesting too deep. Their touch would simmer her whole until she was pink, but never birthing blistering burns.

It was wrong how the walls drew closer with his tentative steps. They belonged to a waltz more than the strides of a predator with cornered prey. A partner came in the form of the fresh tongues of flame that engulfed the click of his carefully placed heel, and how the shrinking room stumbled to keep pace. Still, no music dared to haunt them; rather, the melody was found in her heaving lungs and back-peddling feet. No matter how quickly they scrambled, smoke and cinnamon seemed to form, hands eager to grasp her neck instead of wiping away the glint of drying sweat on her furrowed brows.

The dreams at least had the decency to blur the line between reality and stress-riddled fiction. Whenever there were missteps past said line, it was drawn back, albeit by force, yet still drawn back. The little power she held could be pushed to the back of her mind with the rest of this insanity. Why not here, why not now?

" Get out... Get out or I will scream bloody murder. " Lilian's voice was a hiss that wanted to be a whisper.

Those words seemed to shake her nerves rather than the man's. Instead, the momentum of his paused steps was carried on by the crimson pulse of the taut string wrapped around his finger like a second ring. One that responded to every unbothered breath and grew as if to anchor him to some invisible tether. More unheard phrases left from the arch of picturesque lips, lost to the coffee that was climbing back up her throat, and the thud of shaking legs against the door frame.

" No harm... I assure you, it's not harm that I seek mortal... I am a friend, I am family," The man spoke half through the movements of his lips and half through that soul-shaking baritone. " We have never met in the official sense, but I swear, be not afraid is a promise. A promise of safety, not to raise a hand to you. "

No, no, no! She was meant to be free, not hearing the same tired claims. This time, she could run, but could she hide? How long until lightning struck or figures hid in the shadows again?

" If you truly mean no harm, then get out! I don't care if you're the King of England or the same goddamn cashier that's been taking over my life, I will scream."

Her resolve wanted to shake free and crumble into a screaming sob, much like empty air against her back. It was an impassive witness, now that Libby's tender grip wasn't there to hold her up, to hold her centre. Her stiffening muscles stole her will to stay on her feet in favour of lending her fist that strength. Even if the swift arc of her hand was burned into the feverish events of last night, so was the feeling of her fingers phasing through flesh. Would her twitching nerves sink into those softening brows or be twisted into the slight tilt of his gaze?

Solid. She needed one thing to be solid, just long enough to avoid the latest and last paranormal intruder. The last, it will be the last, or so help he-

A warmth broke through her thoughts as a leather-gloved palm began to unfurl before her. The movement, although equal parts precise and gentle, threatened to steal the air from her lungs along with what little words remained on her tongue. In its place came a darting gaze and coffee-flavoured bile. No matter how softly his fingertips brushed against her adrenaline-flooded veins, their touch scorching the rain and sweat that dared to linger as if to still a starting tremor.

" Child, please, there is no need to have fear, not of me, by one with your name." The Man's gaze refuses to follow her own.

For the first time since she crossed the threshold, the world filled out before her. Shapes formed in the corner of now restless eyes as they stepped out from the shadows and slowed the walls' continuing creep. However, these shapes held no unspoken threats, rather, they seemed to lend a kinder hand than the one mere inches away. Even so, the edges of glass-cluttered coffee tables and stoic side tables meant to house mail held little comfort to knotted nerves. Still, her gaze refused to settle on her last two lifelines. The dull curves of wine glasses or the dull blade of a letter opener would have to take the place of sturdy water-pocked knives.

Of course, she could have tried to push past the wall of posed muscles and wrinkless silk. Perhaps twist his wrist before she burned to death or...

Flashes of drying ink and chalk grating against the floor rushed into her grasping mind. It was a distant thought, prone to slip through her twitching fingers, that acted out her next few steps before her legs could.

The next supernatural freak was going to get it.

Lilian’s teeth ground against each other as her slick palm batted away, cold, dry leather. The impact was the only thing keeping the bile from spilling onto her feet or clogging her suffering lungs while the man seemed to wilt. A further pity seemed to rise from the depths of his onyx eyes, but before the pity could be drawn back, his feet were thudding against the scorching floor. Her ligaments threatened to shred away like the flames that were toppled under frantic steps. Golden light created harsh angles on her hunched form, as the edge of the paint-stripped end table kept her upright. Without it stealing the last of her breath, she would have been reduced to ash like the half-opened bills caught in the path of her sweeping arms.

" You've given me no reason not to be afraid. " Lilian's voice struggled to suppress a shake as hands dug through junk before it struck a black and red canister. " You are aware my actual family and friends will notice if I disappear, so we have two choices here..."

" Excuse me, who do you think you are to give me ultimatums? You may be his descendant, but you have no right. "

The heft of pepper spray hitting against plastic seemed to lend her some of its strength as she turned on her heel. Her finger twitched over the metaphorical trigger when she once again stared into those eyes with her own piercing stare.

" No, you have no right to continue this terror. You have entered my house! All for some journal I don't have, so again, we have two choices." Lilian's hand pressed against the plastic. " Either, you go back to whatever pit in Hades you crawled out of, or I get answers. Real answers, not threats, not riddles, but real answers, real fucking answers!"

A laugh took the place of a response or retaliation, and with it went the softness stuck between his brows. What should have been a mask of dry amusement placed on top of bubbling anger came out as haunting peals of laughter. It resounded from the walls as the man's squared shoulders filled her vision in blocks of pointed shadows. He became a towering weapon carried by the serpentine grace within his strides. Leaving the flames to bend, along with slow applause that smothered her shallow breath. Their reflection gouged out, splitting skin before retreating under the floorboards.

Almost like shattering marble, flesh gave way to the stark curve of forming scales. Their emerald tint refused to blend with the temples as they pushed against the inky black waves and what little untouched skin remained. Every tilt of his head seemed to capture a new inhuman angle. Whether it was the gleam of smoke wrapping around sharpened teeth or how a growing amber hue fought its way into his irises. This time, there was no dying inferno to blame as it flooded his steadfast gaze. What remained of the black that once commanded the room threatened to become thin slits.

" Oh, Lilian, I was trying to be nice and play along. Surely your parents must have taught you not to pull the devil's tail. After all, you might force his hand."

The world seemed to crash down around her with a force stronger than smouldering bricks or the deep burn of lightning. Still, a wild fear clawed at her as if she were once again a trembling mass on the bookstore floor. It dug against her bones like the remembered scrape of her nails, trying to find her breath rather than scattered glass. What little vision was gained began to shrink, the corners melding into a sharp-edged static. All while everything spun, frantic and sickening, save for the warmth behind her eyes.

"You‘re, you're just like her, or worse, and I'm not dying. Two choices, two choices, two choices!"

Darker swaths of smoke slipped past those pointed teeth, encroaching where feet would not. Words mingled with a humming growl of a noise.

" And if I refuse to choose? What would an ill-prepared girl, failed by her bloodline, do to the Prince of the pit, to the lord of the flies, to the serpent?" A hum rose within the man's anger, " To an emperor when I lead with peace; a peace you did not get from that witch of a creator."

Catharsis came in the press of plastic against her fingertip. The weight of the world drove the slow release, while a stark hiss overtook the hum. Dark red droplets hung in the air, coating nerves and deepening breaths with the smell of burnt rubber. A thick biting smell that clung to the fearful sobs that blurred the reeling form before her. Slick ironed edges bulged as the click of dress shoes rang out like a gunshot. Once, posed hands flung to those amber eyes, clawing against the now scarlet-stained skin.

Their movement was frantic as they grasped at what little, scaleless skin remained. All while smoke fled his tensed jaw. In a way, the thick black waves resembled strings of spittle from a growling animal, teeth bared. Muffled curses replaced the primal hunger and warning signs as his shoulders drew in. Non-existent wings struggled to cover his caving form like some arcane muscle memory. Flames returned in hearty plumes that carved out new shadows on his face, turning him into a living painting. One that belonged to the brush of a classic painter depicting some tortured fall from grace. Except this one moved with laboured breaths that matched her own.

What had she attacked…

“You could have left, so now we're going to talk. “Lilian’s words tasted of bitter bile. “I-I am going to need answers.”

A long, spiteful hiss and piercing stare seemed to rip into her very being. Loose curls fell upon his skin, stealing away the last bit of elegance within him.

“Edenbrough, or not, I refuse to negotiate with heathens. Drop it.”

“Well, I refuse to negotiate with nightmares, sir!”

Buried deep within a seething rage came a harsher laugh, delivered by the ongoing stream of smoke. It pressed into her burning throat and nose like warped cotton as the figure rose to his feet with frightening haste. The weak facade of prey was shaken off like a wolf out of sheep's clothing as that laugh shifted. Its harsh edges morphed into the returning hum before becoming those bone-shaking tones. Every word followed an unheard melody.

“Don't rush, child. I am not a thing of the wild here to beguile.”

Although the voice shook her bones and filled her lungs with acrid smoke, a calm rolled through her skin. It seemed to slip through her pores with every struggling breath, like a settling sea after a storm. Those words crept into her brain, stilling terror-filled thoughts and dragging her finger away from the trigger.

“Hush, child, here can you place your trust child.”

Something familiar was laced in those words. Warm memories were presented to her on a silver platter, ready to be twisted. Soft lullabies and sleepless nights swarmed the corner of her mind amidst the smoke. Nostalgia attempted to replace the adrenaline in her veins even as her fingers strained around the canister. The echoes of a time long passed whispered to relax and burrow deeper into imagery blankets. For a second, it wasn't fear that stopped her heart and turned her tongue to cement as her grip slipped away. The clatter of plastic was covered by the ringing of the bittersweet words.

Oh great, the mysterious figure implied he was the devil, like the devil in the bible, or the one in those stories meant to scare her straight. No, no, no, there's no way she had pepper-sprayed the Devil that sought her out. She simply cracked like full-on cracked, the devil was not real and did not seek her out, that belonged in stories about great grandpa Johnny…

“You're not Callum, are you? This is what it’s all been about, tormenting me so Lucifer- No, you can steal my soul. If it ends this all, then go ahead, I guess, but I am not a player like he was, barely touched a fiddle.”

Her muscles tensed on instinct even as the smoke filtered out, awaiting the Man’s gloved hands to reach through her skin. For that string-wrapped hand to bypass her hitched breath and grab whatever nebulous thing rested at her core, whatever a soul was.

“ At least you know that even if it cannot make up for mere warnings in lullabies. She should have prepared you now that you can't hide behind her skirt; that's why she needed my journal, wasn't it?” The man let out a clipped chuckle.” You were so unprepared, you needed my journal, but it rotted, so she went for my coven’s copy, and then those little birdies told me. It’s not me you have to worry about, it seems Destiny has bigger plans for you. “

Her heels began to crave movement as if any remaining fear had migrated towards her legs. Pieces of ash and coffee mingle with lilies of the valley, a phantom brought about by name alone as she backtracked. Perhaps if her heart hadn't taken a beating, the flashes of eye sockets filled in with light would have done so as she tried to slip back towards the door. The pit of the stomach widened just a little as the imaginary gaze was proven not to be trapped within her mind. Without turning on his own heel, the man watched every jitter, every step, almost robotic in the unflinching nature of it.

“I’m going to regret this, but first real question, and I want a real answer. Okay no riddles, no whatever your little song did to me. How is my cashier connected to you, Lucifer, and why did you call her a creator?”

A coy smile dared to return to the man’s face.

“Well, first, my little mortal, I let it go once, but even if I hate the bastard, my god-given name is Satan. Second of all, as you can tell, figures like me often have two faces, so a different identity wouldn't be hard. “Satan’s gaze left Lilian for a split second to scan for an unseen force.” Lastly, someone had to kick start the big boom, and right now she's hiding behind my wife; so no, creating the basic building blocks was not all let there be light.”

She shouldn't have trusted in the now undeniable devil, but unlike Destiny, he gave straight-ish answers without becoming a sleep paralysis demon…. So she picked her poison.

“That still doesn't answer why she did any of this and why she went through you instead of those voices. Plus, what's to say you aren't making up lies to hurt me as soon as I stop talking, lies are your thing!”

“I think that first part is painfully clear, despite your mother having your great-grandfather’s blood, you were woefully unprepared. Thus, you needed Hell for Dummies, and due to some lesser evils, I had to oblige voices; however, they were not an added feature. As for trust…”

In a return to those polished movements, Satan raised his gloved hand as if a parent silencing a child. The string once again rose to meet it, the red enveloping the ring in its unholy but meager glow, while it seemed to look past Lilian’s agape mouth and still wide eyes. Rather, the growing confusion crossing her features seemed to have encouraged him as his other hand was raised as if to cup something, and a snap echoed across the walls. The sound, although small, drove the hitched breath out of her lungs and drove her into the doorknob as cabinets flung open. One by one, as if caught in a poltergeist’s temper tantrum, consisting of the clicking of wine glasses.

Before any cry could leave her mouth or her knees could keep her upright, something flew from her once-closed cabinet. Spots of opaline light danced across her floor, not by Destiny, but due to the wine glass now firmly in his open hand. Sandalwood never came, just the once comforting smell of cinnamon and apples, as he flashed a curt but fangless grin.

Wha-

“You see, Lilian, we all have our limits for little Miss Universe. It's time travel, one wrong move, then she gets ripped apart, and we go too. However, as of this moment, it's my patience, and that's growing thin, so you get one last question, meaning you better pray to your little ‘Destiny ‘that you return my journal intact. Because not only can I make you, but I've been nice.”

There was a second of silence before the lightless flick of his fingers sent a chime that rendered her blood cold, and deep cracks emerged from the glass. Each one seemed to bleed small rivers of unreal gold, much like the flames burned into her nightmares, just without the smoke. Then, in a second, there's a strangled crash and a neat pile of shards in his palm.

“If I wanted to hurt you, I would have. Understood?”

Darkness sank back into the corner of her eyes as her tongue turned into sand, and panic draped over like a cloak. If it wasn't for the strange yet stark chill of the floor that her body now slid towards, she might have felt her mind flee into either. All while a second snap lingered in the corner of her mind, and those blurred shards snapped together like puzzle pieces. Liquid gold that dipped closer to copper filled the gold like some lost craft.

She had opened up Pandora's box more than a crack, and now she might be murdered by the cult that Libby told her not to deal with. No, no, no, god no, she had one question left. Think, think it would be best not to keep him waiting….

Small mahogany droplets seemed to form out of thin air, thick, semi-transparent swirls. For a second, they hung there like Satan’s silk before settling into the glass being raised to his mouth in one regal swoop. Fragments of the past few days tried to fight through her mind, but all her eyes could take in was the pulse of that string leading to nowhere.

Maybe she wouldn't get every answer, but throwing him off guard had proven to have gotten her leeway.

“What, are you trying to remember, Satan?“

Scales, for a split second, began to push their way back onto his temple along with hiss-like coughs. Once easy sips sat heavy in his throat as it was rejecting the question.

“Excuse me?”

Lilian’s shaking fingers half curled into the dried fabric of her clothes and half strained towards Satan’s hands. “The string, people tie a string around their finger when they need to remember.

Satan’s gaze fell upon the string, a snicker being fought back by a semi-calm poker face. For a second, he just turned his wrist in slow but less practiced movements, as if to beckon the thoughts he was lost in.

“You are a strange one, I will admit, but if you can see it, there's hope for you yet. It isn't like you’re fully wrong with that guess; it is a reminder. “Satan’s stare stayed fixed on the loop around his finger. “However, it’s closer to a who then a what, because contrary to popular belief, reality is more a tapestry than a game of dice. Sometimes the thread that makes up life crosses over so two beings share the same essence, or heartbeat; your kind calls them soulmates, but I think I have strayed too far from mine. “

No further elaboration came other than the murmur of swirling wine, along with long overdrawn sips. While embittered, thoughts belonging to rain-soaked bathrooms pushed past the fear, as the wine from nowhere dwindled. Sparks of gold lapped once again at his heels as if they were a mere step away from leaving.

The universe was out to get her through the means of soulmat-

“ Hold on, you can't just leave. I still haven't gotten answers for the voices or who Destiny really is. Or, or..”

Her pleas fell on attentive but deaf ears as the last few drops of wine slipped past his lips. Those golden sparks began to consume well-ironed fabric as they climbed past his shoes. Every plume was as desperate as her free hand while it grasped at the air. Forever doomed to grasp nothing as the flames grew higher and her heart returned to its pounding rhythm.

“ Oh, but I can, wasn't that what you wanted in the first place? I did say one more question, and you did get your answers, but if you wish, give Morgan my regards. All that is left is to say Au Revior.

In a mirror of how this horror started, Satan in one smooth flourish dipped into a bow. Every muscle played along as he soaked up the flames now scraping her ceiling like an actor in the spotlight. The smell of apples faded first, along with the click of his heel against the floor as the room became gilded in warm oranges and gold. Shadowy figures and thoughts alike were ripped apart by the light, leaving only the ebbing warmth to provide solace. All the while, Lilian's body slumped towards the ground, counting seconds while the flash-bang ended. Her hands tried to tame her upset cries or the rise and fall of her heaving chest as the sounds of cars filtered in past her pounding heart.

From her spot on the ground, the slow, cold struck at her cheek pressed against the floor; nothing watched her back. No snake-like eyes or forms to phase through like light. Just untouched furniture and a single lump in her throat, causing thought.

It was time to make some phone calls home, as damn it all her childhood boogie men weren't whimsical lies.