Unnatural Instinct: Fallen

5.

You're the one.

The proof is irrefutable. You bear the mark. You bear it deep inside you. I should have known it would be at the core of your sex, at the heart of your sinful pleasure. It took me a while. I did my best to touch you as little as possible. Human flesh is distasteful: moist and soft and warm—and fragile, pitifully fragile.

I had to gently peel back the lips of your opening. Though I have never seen woman's flesh so intimately, my master had told me what to do and what to expect. There were so many wrinkles and layers that I thought I would never find it—if it was there at all.

Then I saw it. I leant in close, not believing my eyes, then sucked in a breath. If I had a heart it would have been racing.

There it was; located deep within one of your folds of skin, so tiny it was almost imperceptible.

666

My task is almost done.

Closing our eyes, my brothers and I lift up our arms. I can feel him. I can feel my master, like a hand against my cheek, like the warmth of the flame against my face. He is pleased.

It is time to go.

With the help of my master, sliding into the next world is a simple matter. His power surges through me like a bolt of electricity. It crackles through my fingertips and swells behind my eyes. There's a sudden hard shift beneath my feet, followed by a blast of heat against my face. Then comes the splutter and roar of flames. Amid it all, I hear you scream. You might be frightened, but to me it's all so familiar, all so comfortable. The flames and the heat and the smoke are all I've known for so long. I open my eyes.

I'm home.

Say goodbye to Earth. Say goodbye to purgatory. Welcome to hell.

Your eyes are so wide they bulge from your head, your jaw hangs slack and you clutch your knees so hard to your chest I can see the tendons straining in your hands.

One by one, my brothers start to leave, making their way towards our master's home, some on foot, the rest by wing. It's just ahead, a jagged finger of rock charred black from the raging fires sitting atop a steep, rocky path.

I'm sure it's hard to feel anything but fear at this point, but you should feel privileged. Few have received such special treatment from my master. Most of those doomed to hell must journey centuries through the flames and ash and smoke to even see my master's home. And of those, very few are allowed into the relative safety within.

Despite the heat, you grow pale as you look around you. I can almost see the flames reflected in your white eyes. Your shoulders shudder violently as you begin to shake. You whip around your head at the sound of screaming—one of the damned. There are many of them; billions throughout the centuries. You'll get used to it. Soon, you'll enjoy their torture as much as I do.

I hold out my hand. 'Come.'

You turn back to me. Already your hair is sticking to your scalp from the heat, and you're breathing heavily. Though the rest of your face is white, a sickly red colours the centres of your cheeks. It can get suffocating out here. Inside my master's home you'll find much more comfort.

'Come,' I repeat more forcefully, 'or stay out here.'

You turn your head again at the sound of more screaming, then look down at the altar in horror as the ground begins to shudder. With a thunderous crack! the ground opens up not far from where we stand and in a blast of heat, wind and smoke a geyser of flame shoots into the sky.

With a shriek, you leap down from the altar and back away to my side as you stare in terror at your new home. I seize your wrist. You jerk against me but don't fight. As I look into your eyes I can see that you understand; you're smart enough to know there's nowhere to go.

With one arm you cover your breasts as you follow me up the steep path. I could fly if I wanted but I don't like the thought of carrying you in my arms again. The touch of your skin makes me feel ... peculiar. I can't help but recall how you looked to me on the altar with your legs spread wide. You were scared enough that your breasts were heaving. I tighten my grip on your wrist.

It's not long before we reach the castle steps. There are many entry ways into my master's castle but this one is the grandest. The giant stone doors slowly open of their own accord with a groan that vibrates through my feet. I feel you shiver in my grip. No doubt you've noticed the carvings on their surface: the faces of the damned, screaming as they're consumed by the flames.

I release you and you wrap both your arms around your chest as you follow me inside, your bare feet slapping against the polished molten rock floor. You turn with a start as the doors close shut behind us, then bunch fearfully to my side as a sudden darkness descends. It doesn't last. Usually, my master cares nothing for light, but you are his guest and he desires that you be comfortable.

One by one, all the way down the great length of the corridor, torches bracketed to the walls on either side of us burst into flame. Releasing an anxious breath, you keep close to my side as we walk together.

It's such a strange thing, to see the halls so empty. It's hard to believe that, only weeks before, the castle was filled with thousands upon thousands of my brethren. It's at my master's request that they disperse, leaving only a few of us angels to serve him. Like I said, he wants you comfortable. Rest assured there will be no demons disturbing you in the night.

Except for one.

'Where are you taking me?' you suddenly say.

I look at you in surprise, forgetting you have a voice, small though it is. 'To your quarters.'

'My-my quarters?' Your feet continue to slap loudly in the silence. 'Is this ... is this hell?'

The question is so foolish I don't bother answering.

Finally, we reach your door. I push it open and you suck in a breath. You raise a hand against the blazing light. Hundreds of candles have been lit all over the room, glowing from the huge candelabra above and from countless candlesticks perched on dressers and cabinets and tables. More candles line the bottom of the walls.

This room was once the sleeping place for dozens of lesser demons. It used to be filled with the stench of their sweat and excrement, not to mention the bones and rotting flesh of the damned they liked to gnaw on. For whatever reason, my master has decided that this chamber is the most appropriate for you.

I stand in the doorway as you walk inside, looking about you in awe. I watch you for a moment, then step back into the hall and close and lock the door behind me.

Unbeknownst to you, my master's new room adjoins yours. I can't stop the excitement from swelling in my chest. I waste a moment taking a long, deep breath before I knock on his door.

'Enter.'

If you think your room is bright—it is nothing to my master's. Once my eyes have adjusted, they widen in surprise. Though his room is sparse—a small table beside a sagging cot, dank, stark and featureless—it is much more than just a prison. He makes it so much more. He's transformed himself back into the archangel he once was, before he fell from God's grace: glorious and beautiful and dangerous.

Here sits Lucifer, the once greatest and most beloved of God's servants—no longer. Not for thousands of years. To say it's a shock to see him so is an understatement. I cannot tear my eyes away.

He's sitting on the edge of the cot, slightly hunched over, his hands folded in his lap. He lifts his head and looks at me, the light shining against his eyes. 'How is she?'

'Scared but unharmed.'

'Good.' He looks down at his hands. 'You have done well. Now, leave me. Time is short and there is much to do. Tend to her needs where you must. Keep her comfortable. She must come to me willingly if this is going to work.'

I bob my head. 'Anything you want, my lord.'

He nods at me, then turns back to his hands.

I leave his chamber, shutting the door gently behind me. As I walk down the corridor I'm unable to keep the smile from my face.