Seven fallen angels incapable of falling in love. One girl that can keep them from spiraling into darkness.
Used to waiting on others to make a decision, Grey is a waitress at a high-end cafe. That is, until she finds herself lured into a parallel...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The woman that served as Aelith's vessel had a plain face. Her square jaw shaped her head into a box, her dead brown eyes didn't sparkle. Overall, she resembled an ox. Solis tried his hardest to see through that to the original demon he resurrected underneath, but all he saw was the hard-working maid that he found leaving one of the business centers in the dead of night. She had been easy pickings and the kill was convenient, but by seven hells he missed when Aelith was beautiful.
She twirled in the mirror, one of her old ornate gowns not even fitting her heavy-set frame. It stayed unzipped at the back as she used one arm to hold the bodice to her chest. She could not find a flattering angle, and eventually her lips curled into a snarl.
"You couldn't have picked a prettier woman?"
Solis rolled his eyes, laying on a red velvet bedspread. Every breath he inhaled took serious labor, like a truck had parked on his chest. The rest of his limbs were under the same condition. He overdid himself trying to kill them in one night. But, four of their spirits had burned to a crisp. When he returned to finish the job, he'd wipe the others off the face of this earth like wiping gum off the bottom of his shoe.
"Her face matches your personality," he quipped. "Tired, a tad aged. Bothersome to look at for long."
Aelith stomped her foot in front of the mirror, slamming a fist into the glass.
"Now, now," said Solis, "All I need you for is a task, not a Miss Universe pageant."
Aelith pivoted and raised her fist as though she was going to retort, but seeing the warning in his eyes she grimaced.
Solis drawled, "Where is Drakar?"
She shimmied out of the gown, her naked body not as appealing to her eye either. "He's weak," she said, stepping out of the skirt, "You don't need him. Smaller demons are like roaches."
"You failed me, Aelith. Rank, obviously, means nothing." Solis wished she would fluff the pillows behind his head. Humanlike necks were so fragile and his already had a crick in the side. But seeing that the ungrateful wench could only think about the fact that she looked like a vegetable to both her and him, he suffered in silence. "I asked for Drakar. Where is he?"
Aelith strut to her wardrobe at a distant wall, her clawed fingernails reaching for a silk robe. She tied it around her waist, annoyed that it was the only thing that fit. She tied her dull, black hair into a quick updo. "He's assembling the last of them. Probably preparing them for mutiny so that he can take the glory."
"No, Aelith," Solis said. "You yearn to push the blame for your misdoings onto others. There is no new beauty in this body, and you're overcompensating through deceit rather than your looks, both of them ugly. It's almost like," Solis sighed casually, "You don't deserve to be a general at all."
Aelith slowly sauntered towards his bedside. While she used to look like a fallen goddess or pretty shrine maiden, she appeared more as a distasteful widow, her hollow eyes still a bit fresh with sorrowful memories of the woman she possessed. That boring, mournful expression narrowed on him, one pointed nail hovering above the side of his neck.
