The vampire stands on an empty rooftop, looking over the city.
Speckles of snow swirl in the frigid air around him, but he isn't dressed for winter.
There is no moon, no sun. Only the outline of what used to be.
There's someone else here. He doesn't know it. He can't sense it.
Unspeakable violence hangs like an omen.
He's in danger.
I wake to the sight of hair.
Wild, untamed blonde hair.
The hair belongs to a woman. It's Donatella, I can tell, although I can't see her face. Lying beside her is a man in deep slumber, also comfortably in the nude. As my gaze reluctantly sweeps over the mattress, finding more bodies at the end of the bed, it is not lost on me what has occurred.
All is not lost on me.
I remember some of it... the pleasure, the pain, the complete loss of control.
I remember the drugs, the sex... the violence we created in animalistic abandon.
Shame melts through me as I turn onto my back. The mattress lacks a sheet, so like my companions, my sensitive flesh is kissed by the air. The nightstand contains an array of narcotics, empty glasses, stubbed out cigarettes. The candles are on their last leg, the wicks nearly burned out. I linger on the sight of cocaine and my chest instantly expands, understanding the depths to which I sunk last night.
There's a faint hint of panic now that I'm awake, awareness, although I'm not sure it belongs to me. I push my hair back, jumping out of my skin when there's a slight movement at the foot of the bed.
Seated in a chair, still fully clothed in what he was wearing yesterday, is Samael.
There's a drink against his knee, a cigarette tucked between his fingers. He regards me with an intimate smug expression, and doesn't say a goddamn word, even when I push up onto my hands.
I'm stark naked, and he's been watching me for God knows how long.
He feels triumphant, no doubt. After so much pushing, I gave into his lies.
I'm rigid. "You said this would feel good."
"In the moment, it did. When you let go, you did."
I stare at him squarely as I slide to the edge of the bed. The sheet is on the ground, but I don't care to reach down and grab it. Satan's eyes scale over my skin greedily, but he keeps his distance.
"Get out," I hiss, with rage in my heart.
I'm talking to him. I'm talking to the orgy on the bed, on the floor, in some of the chairs. Everywhere I look, they are there, reminding me of my downfall. There's been a shift inside of me, I can feel it.
It's hard to control myself. Samael doesn't move. Neither does anyone else.
I walk to the table, pouring myself a glass of wine. Water would ease my conscious, but this is within close distance. I'm beyond pretending I'm better than anyone else here.
I've been feeding my unhealthy impulses since day one.
"I said GET OUT!" I bark out in abrupt rage. Instantly, I hear gasps and rustling as the room awakens. The demons scatter for their clothes chaotically. I'm murderous, truly murderous. I scoop up the cocaine from the nightstand with my bare hands, thrusting the power into Donatella's hands messily. "Take your fucking drugs with you and get the hell out!"
"Mistress—"
"Don't look at me," I seethe in her face, seeing red. "I told you to do something."
She scurries out of the room with everyone else, half-dressed and nervous. I storm up to the table, grabbing my poured drink, gulping it down, trying to mask the sickness that is developing from within me.
The virus has spread. It's done irreparable damage.
I don't have to turn around to know Samael hasn't moved an inch.
I grab my robe, putting it on in silence. Tying the sash tight, I take a bracing moment before I address him directly. "You fed me alcohol and drugs. You preyed on my weaknesses to fuck me."
"Do I look like I've been well-fucked, Cassandra?"
My eyes land on his with contempt, lacking a single ounce of trust in regards to him.
"I didn't touch you last night. I watched you plenty, watched them fuck you."
"Bullshit. Only you could make him appear like that. Only you have that power."
"I didn't. You did that on your own. You saw what you wanted to see. You did what you wanted to do. You embraced your true self, and it was freest you've ever been. I was very clear when I said I wouldn't touch you until you were willing. I have no desire to fuck you while you imagine me as someone else."
I chuckle darkly into my cup. "You must think I'm really fucking stupid."
"Not at all."
"You've been influencing me all along, haven't you?"
"You're upset and confused, I understand that. You are looking for someone to blame."
My eyes slant accusingly, piecing together the circumstances that led me here, to this dark wallowing pit. "Did he even sleep with someone else, or was that you making me see what you wanted me to see?"
"You touched that mirror, Cassandra. I was nowhere near it. I won't sit here and allow you to unload on me so you can lick your wounded conscious. You knew what you were doing. You took those drinks willingly. You swallowed those pills willingly. And you fucked willingly. I was once very long ago as unsure of this as you are now, but that will pass. Don't burn your bridges before then."
He stands, oozing tension. By the time he's at the door, I stomp on the burning embers of that bridge. "He is twice the man you will ever be. No amount of time that you live will change that, and that irks you."
"Careful."
"Prove my fucking point, Samael. Prove it. Keep threatening me."
His black eyes pin on me from the doorway. His features are tight with restraint, instigated by the daring smile on my face. "You have been through a lot in the past day. I will leave you. Tomorrow, we will continue as we agreed upon."
"Get out."
"Your strength is façade. These threats are a façade, Cassandra. You've fallen low, lower than you ever thought you'd go. Your body is going to crave what it felt last night, and you won't be able to deny yourself the craving. You speaking of his strength only shows me how little you have for yourself. You surrendered to a dormant part of yourself last night, and you will want it again. Mark my words. I doubt he'll want what you become like I will."
He leaves the room with the last painful word, and my tempestuous soul feels the cut of it. The serpent always knows where to strike the deadly wound. The bleakness that falls over me is unparalleled. Shaking, I lift the cup to my mouth, overwhelmed with fright.
My surroundings are evil masked by beauty.
Not for one second have I been safe here.
Suddenly, Samael reappears in the doorway as if he'd forgotten something and I go stiff again, seeing a hint of a smile against his lips. Whatever he has to say, it's going to be cruel. I push back any visible torment, refusing to let him see me low.
"Spirits are trapped in Hell for a reason, my love. Once they are repentant, they move to another place. There are no exceptions. A spirit cannot choose to remain in Hell. A spirit, a soul that has not found peace, cannot be a friend."
A cool drape of warning sweeps the length of my body. I feel hellfire at my fingertips.
"Akan?"
"He hates Elijah. Fucking loathes him," he laughs as I go numb. "He has been trying to get into my home since he arrived. He's used Angelica once before to bid me to see him. He wanted to be healed, to gain a place of power. He claimed he was cheated, betrayed by his own master."
"Go fuck yourself, Samael."
"Deep down, you know I'm right. You knew it was too good to be true, the change in him. The remorse. Ask yourself, why would he still be in Hell?"
I look down, remembering a conversation, shivering as the realizations hit.
And what did you do to get access to the bar? I asked.
Angelica saw to it, actually.
I lower the cup from mid-air, ready to explode. "What the fuck? Why would you let him in then?"
"Because it would have alienated you if I'd refused. You wanted a friend, someone to rely on. You were so desperate that you allowed yourself to miss the warning signs, the signs of a sociopath. That is what your friend is. If Elijah were in front of him today, he'd stab him in the goddamn back."
His smile fades. "I wanted you to learn this lesson. You are a goddess. You have subjects. They are not your friends. They see opportunity in you, and they will prey on your weaknesses, even the ones who know you."
Don't jump to conclusions, Cassandra. Don't. This is what he wants.
"How am I supposed to believe anything you say?"
"Go ask Angelica, see what she says... I'm telling you this because while I wished to teach you this lesson, I have no intention of allowing him to remain in this house. So, you can either punish him or I will send him back to Hell. It's your choice."
The air prickles when he takes his leave. I set down the drink with a thud on the way out of the room. I storm through the hallways, and anyone that crosses by me either diverts their eyes in fear or turns back the way they came in escape.
I'm glowing with rage.
There is a guard in front of Angelica's door. He unlocks it without a sound and moves out of the way. I thrust it open abruptly, searching the room for her. She's still in bed, but at my intrusion, she's sitting up, covering herself up.
I slam the door closed.
"What do you know about Akan?"
"Why?"
"I'm not offering an explanation. You're going to tell me plainly or I'm going to torture it out of you. You have three seconds to choose which route you want to take."
Thankfully, she senses my sanity hanging by a thread, and chooses the easy way. "He's a friend, one of the only ones I have here."
"What are his thoughts on Elijah?"
She regards me like I'm insane. "He loved him, of course."
The longer the words hover between us, the more I begin to question them. "You're lying."
"What?"
"Tell me the truth, and I will talk to Samael about releasing you from this room."
"Why would you do that for me?"
"Because I understand the truth requires give and take." Patiently, I stare at her, waiting. "Three seconds."
"Okay! Alright, yeah, he could give a damn about what happened on earth, his master, any of it. He's only thinking about himself right now. He's crippled. He wants to serve Samael. He wants out of that hell-hole. He has no kind words to say about Lyle, no love to send his way. He was killed by him. He hates him. He hates you too for taking it all away from him. Because of you, he's dead."
I've never felt such uncontrollable fury, so much so that I can't even scream. "I see."
"He could be of real use to Samael, I know it."
"Why do you care so much about what happens to him?"
"Because I know what it's like to be betrayed by someone you love."
I chuckle. "Oh, come on. You were a psycho bitch that bit off more than you could chew."
"I still loved him and he turned his back on me."
"He was too good for you."
"Well, then he's too good for you too."
"That's true." I shrug, owning up to it. "He deserves better than me. I'm not denying that. However, he has no one that will fight as hard for him as I will, that will sink into filth for him."
I walk to the edge of her mattress, placing my hands down slowly.
If I keep moving slowly, I won't shrivel.
She eyes me from the pillows, and I wonder if she catches the murderous craze in my stare.
"Judging by your revelations, you don't know that I healed Akan. I fixed his legs." Her eyes widen, brightening warily. "Mhm. I kept him company. I told him my secrets, revealed my weaknesses and then I convinced Samael to remove him from Hell, to let him live here. I changed him into a demon myself."
"He's here?"
"Yes. He's here."
"So... why did you need me to tell you this?"
I straighten, merciless.
"Because I needed clarification. I didn't want to just kill him for nothing."
"Kill? KILL? Why?"
"Because he used me. And I'm tired of being used."
"Just punish him!" Her voice rises nervously as I turn my back on her, having gotten what I wanted. "Wait, will you talk to Samael about me then? Cassandra!"
I silence her with a lift of my hand, opening the door, leaving her mute.
"If anyone goes in or out of this room, I want to know. Demon, god. Even Samael."
"Yes, Mistress."
***
The door opens, and light pours in from the hallway as Akan enters his bedroom, removing his jacket. I can smell earth on him. The dirt, the fumes, the gasoline.
"How was the first day on the job?" I ask.
He jumps back, finding me sitting on the edge of his bed. He relaxes almost immediately.
"Pfft. What the hell are you doing lurking in the dark?"
"I needed to get away from everything for a second."
"Well, I'm glad you feel you can come to me to get away." He smiles, walking to his table. Dinner is waiting for him. "Ah, I don't think I'll ever get used to eating again. Want to join me? We can speak of woes."
"Not hungry. I'll have a drink though."
I approach him, looking over him intensely from behind, but I'm smiling when I lean into the wood beside him as he pours for us.
He grins, observing my outfit. "You look truly fierce in leather, have I told you that?"
"No."
"You look like you're going into battle."
"It feels like armor... I felt like I needed to conceal myself today."
"Why?"
"Well, I spent my night in an orgy, drugged up out of my mind."
He slams the pitcher down, gaping. "No fucking way."
"Yeah. Naked bodies everywhere when I woke up."
"Shit, how do you feel?"
"I've been better."
He thrusts me a cup. "You definitely need this more than I do, then."
"How was earth?" I chuckle, shaking my head at how that sounds. "Samael said you were in America?"
"Yes, Washington. It's been a while since I'd been there. The place is a damn mess. It's deteriorating fast."
"And how did you take to your task? Did it come back easily?"
"What?"
I smirk. "The violence. The spying. The rearranging."
"I'm still learning... but I think this is a good fit. I've already fallen so low before. I don't even think heaven would want someone like me."
"You mean, fallen low by betraying Elijah back in Rome?"
He's momentarily stunned by my bluntness, but chooses to not take offense to it. "Yes. I mean that."
"And what about lying to me to get your legs back? Lying to me to get a new life away from the bottomless pit?" My brows sit high, expectantly on my head. "How much lower do you think that brings you?"
I cross my arms when he sets down his drink, stiffening beside me.
"How much lower do you think you can fall?"
"Cassandra—"
"Samael told me everything. I didn't believe him so I went to Angelica. She's been locked up, so she caved right away as soon as I offered her freedom... I know that you hate Elijah. You hate me."
"I do not hate you." He faces me, clasping his hands together, pleading patience. "Cassandra, I know how it sounds, how this all looks, but when I saw you, everything changed. You made me realize that my hate was utterly displaced."
"I trusted you," I whisper, forbidding a single ounce of the pain he's caused to show.
"He's trying to cut off the people you can rely on. What does it matter how I think? We're good for each other! We ground each other! I am there for you!"
"You betrayed Elijah. And then you betrayed me. You manipulated me into getting what you wanted, and like a goddamn fool, I did it. I took away your pain. I pulled you from Hell. I made you immortal for a second time, and I find it was all on a lie?"
"You're angry, I get that. You feel alone."
"No, I felt alone before, Akan. This is something else... a void I cannot escape. A bleak emptiness that never ends, never brightens or dims. It's continuous, and you're going to know how it feels."
"Cassandra, please. Listen to me. Don't think irrationally here."
I reach down, pulling a sharpened blade from my hip.
"I could just touch you and you'd die. But I want to feel the tip of the blade puncture your skin. I want to burrow it in you so you feel just a fraction of what I do."
"Jesus!" he gasps, knocking over the drink cart. The tumblers crash onto the ground, like the one crashed when I was struck by pain. But I don't reach out to help him. The glass cracks under his heavy boots. "Cassandra, you've made your point! Stop this and let's speak on this!"
I shake my head, way past talking. He must realize that.
Although it will do him no good, he charges at me, a born fighter at heart. His will to survive is probably the only redeeming thing about him. He tries to get the blade from my hand, but I'm stronger than him. Much stronger.
He goes to hit me, but I grab his forearm, sinking my fingers deeper and deeper into his flesh until he's grimacing, until I hear the snap.
He bellows at the break of his arm, stumbling back into the door. He grabs the door knob, twisting it frantically, but it won't budge. It's locked from the outside where guards will bear witness to this murder.
"You fooled us both, Akan. You won. You got my trust, babe. You made me love you, rely on you, feel for you."
"Cassandra—"
"Stop pretending. You're about to die. Tell me you hate him."
"No—"
I slam my hand into his chest, pinning him into the doorway. "Tell me."
"I hate that he turned his back on me!"
"Deeper, Akan. Deeper. You wish you had been a fraction faster. You imagine what your life would be if he were dead and you'd taken his place. Right?"
"No."
"Don't die a coward."
His eyes, finally shifting from fear to belligerence, bulge as he leans in inches from my face. "He's meant for the ground, Cassandra. Whether you like it or not, whether you fight it or not, he's a dead man. And when he gets here, Samael's going to make damn sure he rues the day he ever laid eyes on you!"
My blade stabs into his chest, like Elijah's blade once did. Loud fits of anger wheeze through my clenched teeth as I drive the blade through him until I feel the edge hit wood. A vampire would die right away, but Akan isn't a vampire.
He's a demon.
He must be removed from this world and the next. My hand flattens against his head, and my energy radiates. This isn't mere death. This is nothingness I'm imprisoning him to.
I'm giving him to the universe.
I feel his soul leave his body, which instantly goes lifeless, pinned to the door. I pull back with a gasp, grasping the scalding hand that sentenced him. I'm drained.
"It's done," I say aloud. The door unlocks, and the two guards enter.
"Get rid of him, any evidence of him."