Tempted by Demons

Her heart was racing, thumping in her ears, and she was running. She ran with everything she had, and then she was falling. It was like a sudden plummet, with bright light all around, and it caused a flare of agony the likes of which she had never experienced before. She fell for what felt like forever until there was an abrupt stop as she crashed into the ground. Her eyes fluttered for a moment before closing, and she lost all awareness.

***

She woke sometime later with her head aching, pain filling her body, and an all-consuming sense of loss she couldn’t explain. All she knew was something was gone, though she couldn’t identify what. With a groan, she slowly sat up as she felt the crunch of leaves underneath her body. She looked above her, and the sky was dark. She had no real memory of what had occurred before other than a sense of falling, but she remembered light. It had been bright, crisp, and so sharp it had almost burned her eyes.

She blinked now, trying to adjust to the abrupt change. There were stars in the sky, and the moon was full and bright, so it allowed her some illumination as she looked down at herself.

Still feeling woozy, she stood up as slowly as possible. The first time she tried, she collapsed back to her knees, so she took her time and breathed through it, finally gaining her feet several seconds later. She was surprised to feel steadier than she had expected, but she still leaned against a nearby tree for a moment. She spent a minute looking around, trying to determine where she was, or how she’d come to be in this place. Unfortunately, it was all a blur, and she shook her head. She had cause to regret doing so, because it caused another flash of pain behind her eyes that radiated through her skull.

She took a step forward, feeling the crunch of leaves under her feet, and realized she wore no shoes. A look down revealed she wore a white dress that was stained and dirty. She could see the tips of her toes in the moonlight, and they looked out of place among the leaves surrounding her. She spent far too long staring at her feet as she tried to place all the pieces together to determine what was happening to her.

After a long time with no success, she issued a sigh and pushed away from the tree completely. She was able to walk now, but she still felt weak. She could hear something that sounded like music in the distance, though not music she was familiar with, and she moved that way.

Perhaps there would be someone who could help her or explain what was going on. Spurred by the hope, she increased her pace, though she winced more than once as her bare feet encountered sharp or rough objects on the ground. She couldn’t remember much of anything, but she was positive she didn’t routinely walk barefoot through forests.

The music was growing louder, so she continued in that direction until she emerged from the forest. There was a gray strip on the road in front of her, and she instinctively knew the name for it. Asphalt. How did she know that but not know where she was or how she’d come to be there? It was bewildering, and she pressed on toward the source of the music.

As she crossed the asphalt, she was aware of lights bearing down on her, and a shrill sound punctuated the air. The vehicle was zooming at her, and it swerved at the last moment, the driver leaning out the window to scream something incoherent at her.

She hastily finished crossing the road and slid down the steep incline on the other side, scraping the back of her hand in the process. As she waved it to dispel the sting, she was able to see a building and identify it as the source of the music now that she was off the road. Her feet were ragged and bloodied, and she wanted to stop, but she needed help. She forced herself to limp on, frowning as she turned the corner of the building and saw its parking lot full of motorcycles. She knew the term for that too, and she could picture someone riding one. She knew what they were and what they did, so how could she not know anything else?

She was starting to quietly panic as she realized her memory was a gaping hole, and she didn’t know so much as her own name. She stumbled in through the front door, ignoring the catcalls of the few men who stood outside in front of it, sparing a glance for the layout of the area for a moment.

She heard more catcalls and shrill whistles, combined with obscene words that she tried to block out as she stumbled forward and collapsed against the bar. The bartender approached, looking concerned. She was a woman with long dark hair, likely in her late-thirties, and she had a hardened look about her that suggested she’d seen everything, but her expression revealed clear shock at the sight before her. “What happened to you, honey?”

She shook her head. “I… I don’t know.”

The bartender frowned, nodding to a stool. “Take a seat.”

She did as commanded, climbing onto the stool and sitting there as she stared at the bartender for a long moment, until the woman grew visibly uncomfortable and turned away. She returned with a glass of water and set it before her a second later. “You should rest and then get on out of here. This isn’t a place for you.”

Her eyes widened, and she watched it happen in the mirror behind the bartender. Realizing she was staring at herself, she took a quick mental appraisal of the pale figure seated at the bar. She had wavy blonde hair that was so white it was almost silver, delicate features, and big silver-gray eyes. She looked like she had been through something traumatic, and she was certain she had, though she couldn’t recall what.

She nodded her thanks to the bartender and started sipping the water, only then realizing just how raw and swollen her throat felt. There was an ache in her chest as well, as though her very heart was missing. In a superstitious move to convince herself she was imagining things, she placed her palm against her chest and felt the reassuring, steady thump of her heartrate underneath. She breathed a sigh of relief.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here?” asked a big man as he squeezed onto the stool beside her. He was large in every way—not just fat, but tall, wide, and hairy. She instinctively shuddered in fear as she tried to draw away, pointedly avoiding looking at him.

He trailed his beefy fingers down her arm. “Don’t be like that, sweetie. What’s your name?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but she didn’t know. She stared at him in consternation for a moment, forgetting her initial fear as this new fear overtook her. “I don’t know,” she said softly, her voice sounding raspy. She wondered if she was naturally husky, or if it was a side effect of whatever had brought her to the forest.

He looked skeptical for a moment. “That’s fine. We don’t need names. Why don’t you come with me now?”

Instinct told her that was a bad idea, and she reared back as she violently shook her head. “No.”

He frowned as he leaned closer. “I’m trying to offer you some help here, Blondie. Be a good girl and let me.”

She stumbled away from him, sliding off the stool and almost falling on her butt in the process. Somehow, she managed to retain her balance and keep from falling, though she backed away from him. “Stay away from me.” There was something off about the man. She could tell it just by looking at him, though she didn’t know how she knew that. All she was certain was his intentions for her weren’t good.

He was scowling as he slipped off the stool, keeping pace with her. “I ain’t gonna ask you again. Come here.”

She let out a startled little shriek of surprise as her reversing caused her to collide with a solid body. Her fear increased tenfold as she was surrounded. She turned to look back at her newest threat, finding herself standing against a tall black man with short hair, strong features, and a muscled chest and arms she could feel even standing with some inches between them.

She gasped slightly, but her fear immediately lowered. She didn’t know how she knew, but she was certain she was safe with this man. A glance at the one beside him gave her a similar response, and she managed a tentative smile for the man who looked younger than his companion. He had black hair, brown eyes, and tanned skin that stretched perfectly over a tautly muscular form. He gave her a lazy smile and a wink in return, and her fear eased down another notch.

“Step aside,” said the man behind her.

“I don’t want no trouble, Brax. She’s not yours though. I saw her first.”

She shuddered at the large man’s words, more convinced than ever that he was a bad man.

“She’s not a toy to claim. Step away.” Brax made it sound like the only logical choice before the other man.

“Maybe I don’t wanna. If she is what I think she is—”

“Then she’s too good for the likes of you or any of us,” said a third voice as he stepped up to join them. He took his spot on the right side of the man she stood against, and she looked at him in an evaluating fashion. He had rough, craggy features, shaggy blond hair, and sharp green eyes that radiated a visible threat to the man trying to get her to go with him.

When his gaze temporarily locked with hers, she still felt a hint of threat relayed to her as well. She shuddered, though she wasn’t exactly afraid of him. She just realized how reluctant he was to stand there, and she figured it must be for his friends’ sake and certainly not hers.

“No one asked your opinion, Malephar,” said the unpleasant man as he glared at the one who’d spoken to him last. “I’ll be taking that prize.”

“Over your dead body,” said the younger of the three, his brown eyes flashing in warning. He spoke with a faint hint of an accent she struggled to place as somewhere from the deep South. Perhaps Texas, or maybe Louisiana? She frowned that she knew those words and could immediately call to mind what they were. She could see a bird’s eye view of both locations, as though she had stared down at them on a topographical map. It was all confusing, and she shook her head lightly, trying to clear her thoughts.

“I suggest you walk away,” said the one she now knew was called Brax.

“Do you know who I am, boy?” asked the large man.

“Yeah, we do,” said the youngest. He sounded cocky and unafraid when he said, “You are Uzrael. You might be older than all of us combined, but you’re no match for the three of us. I think you know that too, don’t you?”

“Don’t take that tone with me, Dantalion.” Uzrael’s eyes narrowed, and he seemed on the verge of continuing the aggressions when there was a snicking sound to the right that drew all their attention.

The bartender stood with a shotgun pointed at the small group. “Break it up,” she said in a threatening voice.

“That shit won’t work on me,” said Uzrael.

The bartender smiled, but there was no warmth or humor in it. “This isn’t my first rodeo with your kind, man. These aren’t regular bullets, so I suggest you skulk off to whatever dimension you came from. You’re no longer welcome at Beth’s Roadhouse.”

The man looked surprisingly frightened, and she had a hard time reconciling that, because the bartender didn’t look any more intimidating than the three men who stood behind her despite her weapon. In fact, she looked less frightening, though when she looked at her, she could see a faint orange glow about the woman that seemed to emanate from her chest. Perhaps that was what the other man found so frightening.

After a long second, he shrugged and turned away. “She’s not worth it.” With those words, he sauntered out of the bar.

“The bastard owes me forty dollars,” muttered the bartender as she lowered the gun before nodding to the four of them.

“Would you like me to retrieve him to pay it?” asked the one who’d been called Malephar.

The bartender shook her head. “I’m just glad he’s gone. I suggest you all depart as well. Your little friend there is garnering a lot of interest, and while I’m well stocked with ammo, perhaps not well enough stocked if this becomes a free-for-all brawl.”

“Point taken,” said Malephar as he turned to the other two. “Let’s get out of here.”

“We can’t just leave her here alone,” said the youngest of the three with an air of challenge, as though he expected the words to be countered.

“She’s certainly not our problem,” said the blond.

“When we stepped in, we sort of made her our problem,” said the black man.

Brax gave her a gentle smile as he said that, and it made her knees go weak. She started to fall, and his hands on her hips kept her from sliding to the ground.

“Do you want to come with us?” asked the youngest one. “We won’t hurt you, and we can help you get out of here.”

She didn’t know much about anything, so she decided to trust her instincts. They told her going with these three would be best, so she nodded slowly. “Thank you.”

“No problem, darlin’,” said the one with the Southern drawl. “My name is Dante.”

“I thought it was Dantalion?” she asked, confused.

He grimaced. “Ugh. I left that horrible name behind long ago. It’s just Dante.” He stared at her with an air of anticipation after a prolonged moment of silence. She licked her lips, knowing the expected thing was for her to share her name now, but she couldn’t recall it.

“This is Malephar, though he prefers Mal,” said Dante as he continued introductions by glancing at the blond man after the awkward pause. “And this guy right here,” He pounded on the black man’s chest, “Is Abraxas, though Brax is his usual moniker.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” She was certain that was the expected thing to say, though she didn’t know how she knew.

“What’s your name, sugar?” asked Brax.

She opened and closed her mouth for a moment and then shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I don’t really remember much of anything.”

“May I?” As he asked, Brax lifted a dark finger to carefully pull aside the shoulder of her white dress. Her arms were bare from the cut of it, so he didn’t have to pull far to reveal a small symbol on her shoulder. “Your name is Abdia.”

She frowned, wondering how he knew that, but the name resonated with her. “I…I think people usually call me Abby.” Abdia was familiar, but Abby felt like her.

“Do you want to come with us?” That gruff question came from Malephar.

After a brief hesitation, she nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

As soon as she gave permission, the three of them formed a semi-circle around her, and she wasn’t certain if she should feel protected or trapped, though she certainly felt safe. They hustled her out of the roadhouse and soon to a set of bikes. They were the serious, macho kind with loud engines and various pieces of decor that caught her eye.

She was a little daunted by the painful-looking metal studs that dotted the exhaust pipe and trims of the seat on the nearest bike that Dante directed her to take a seat on. That just happened to be behind him, and Dante opened the compartment on his bike to remove a second helmet that he passed to her. “Do you know how to wear it?”

She shrugged her shoulder, which must’ve translated to a no in his mind, because he quickly placed it on her head and sized the straps for her until it was snug.

“How does that feel?”

“It’s okay, but it might be a little tight.”

“It’s supposed to be tight,” said Mal in an abrupt way. “It’s the only thing protecting your head from the asphalt.”

She bit her lip in fear. “Will my head be colliding with the asphalt?”

“Not with me driving, darlin’,” said Dante with smooth assurance.

That line earned a chuckle from Brax and a roll of eyes from Mal, but neither of the other two spoke to her again as they took their places on their bikes. She clung to Dante when he started his, and the other two followed suit. She let out a cry of shock and surprise when the motorcycle darted forward seconds later, and she increased her grip around Dante’s waist harshly enough to make him gasp.

“Relax a little, darlin’,” he said, and she could picture him winking at her again.

She focused and made an effort to loosen her arms slightly, though she was still terrified as the motorcycle left the parking lot of the roadhouse and soon merged onto the asphalt. She clung to him, torn between fear, curiosity, and perhaps a little bit of exhilaration to feel the wind blowing through her hair, at least what was exposed outside the helmet. The landscape seemed to rush by, and she soon discovered she enjoyed the ride much more if she closed her eyes, pressed her cheek against Dante’s warm back, and tried not to think about the reality of where she was.

They rode for what felt like forever, though it was probably little more than twenty minutes. Soon enough, they stopped outside a building she quickly identified as a hotel. No, this was a motel. The sign had corrected her, and the establishment itself looked a little more rundown. She wasn’t certain how she knew that, or when she’d last had a chance to compare hotels and motels, but she definitely knew the terms.

“Get us two rooms,” said Brax to Mal.

Mal nodded and got off his motorcycle while Dante put his feet on the parking lot, but he kept his motor idling. She continued to cling to him, though she knew logically she could release her death grip on him now that they were no longer moving.

“It’s going to be okay, Abby,” said Brax in a reassuring tone.

She managed a small smile and a nod for him, but she wasn’t entirely confident in his words. She still had no answers and no idea what she was doing there, or how she’d arrived in the forest, save for the brief and terrifying memory of falling.

Mal returned moments later holding two keys. “We’re in rooms one-sixteen and one-seventeen,” he said to them as he got on his bike again. He started it, and Brax and Dante followed, both having left theirs idling. She clung to Dante once more until he stopped the motorcycle, this time turning it off. She recognized that as her cue to scramble off, and she did so, but her legs felt shaky again. She thought it might be the transition from the motorcycle back to firm land.

“Here’s a key for you,” said Mal as he handed her the one labeled one-seventeen. She took it and stared down at it for a moment before nodding her thanks.

“She can’t be in there alone. We have no idea why she’s here, or if she’s even what we think she is, but if so…” Dante trailed off, looking earnest.

“It’s not our problem,” said Mal.

Brax heaved a sigh. “I think we established we’ve made it our problem, okay, Mal?” He turned to look at her then. “You’re welcome to have a room to yourself, but if you want someone to share it, we can do that too. Either way, I’d like to know more about you before you turn in for the night.”

She shook her head. “I’d tell you everything, but I really don’t remember anything besides feeling like I was falling. There was a bright light, and then I remember hitting the ground, or at least it felt like some kind of collision. Otherwise, everything is a blank until I woke up this evening in the forest.”

“Which realm are you from?” asked Mal.

She frowned. “I don’t know.”

“Is someone chasing you, sugar?” asked Brax.

She hesitated for a moment before lifting her shoulder. “I really don’t know. I truly don’t remember anything. Just bits and pieces, I guess. I seem to know the terms for everything, but I have very few, if any, personal memories. I didn’t know people called me Abby until you said my name.” She tilted her head then, wondering how he had arrived at that conclusion. “How do you know my name is Abdia?”

“It’s imprinted on you, Abby,” said Brax. As he spoke, his gaze dipped to her shoulder, which was currently covered by her garments, but she recalled he had slipped it down enough to see. “Our Enochian name symbol is imprinted on us all as soon as we’re born or come into existence.”

“So you don’t know if you’re in danger or how you came to be here. Sure sounds like you didn’t arrive on your own.” Mal looked annoyed at that.

She licked her lips and shrugged. “I guess maybe not.”

“We’ll keep you safe for now until we figure this out. Would you like the room to yourself?” asked Dante.

After a moment, she shook her head. “I don’t wish to be alone.”

“In that case, you can share with me,” said Dante as he started to step closer.

“Nah, she’ll be sharing with me, kid,” said Mal.

She frowned at him, both at his surly expression and grumpy tone. “You don’t seem to desire that, Mr. Mal.”

He frowned. “Just Mal, and I don’t, which means it’s far safer for you to stay with me than with Dante.”

The younger man started to splutter. “How dare you. I would never—”

“I didn’t mean it that way, kid. I meant you’re more likely to get attached than I am.” His tone made it clear this all was temporary.

She had no right to feel upset at that, for they hadn’t been required to help her at all, yet she couldn’t help feeling a tiny sense of abandonment, and a shudder went through her entire body.

“Don’t be afraid. We aren’t going to just throw you out into the world on your own. You can stay with us while we unravel what’s happening to you,” said Brax in a reassuring manner.

Abby smiled and then yawned.

“You look dead on your feet,” said Mal with grudging care in his tone. “You’d best grab some sleep, Abby.”

She nodded her agreement and took the key Mal had extended to her. She opened the door for one-seventeen a moment later and stepped inside, almost engaging the deadbolt before remembering Mal would be sharing the room when he came to it later. She left it unlocked instead and fell onto the bed as exhaustion overtook her. She was asleep in seconds.

Brax focused his attention on Abby in her room, ensuring she was asleep. When he focused, he could hear the slow and steady thump of her heart along with rhythmic breathing from the next room. The hotel rooms were adjoining, and he nodded to Dante. “Go ahead and close the door.” While she appeared to be sleeping, he wanted to make sure they had complete privacy for the discussion ahead of them.

Dante looked reluctant as he stood up and moved over to close the door, not locking it before returning to the scarred table in the moderately priced motel room. He reached for another beer, and Mal nodded at the cooler, saying, “Pass me a fresh one.”

“You’ve been nursing that one for the last hour,” said Brax as he took a pull from the neck of his bottle. It was some cheap crap Dante had picked up earlier in the day so it would have time to sit in the cooler and be cold by the time they stopped for the night. It wasn’t to his taste. He preferred craft brews or dark lagers, while Mal had a greater appreciation for aged wine. Dante was young though, and at only two hundred twenty-one, he could hardly be expected to have developed a sophisticated palette just yet. He grimaced at the bitter aftertaste as he set down the bottle, staring at his friends.

“Well?” asked Mal after a long silence.

“Well,” said Brax as more of a statement. “What do we all think she is?”

“She feels like an angel,” said Dante, and there was a clear shine of admiration in his gaze. “Except not entirely.”

“That’s ‘cause her sol is damaged, kid,” said Mal. “I’d bet anything she’s an angel too though. I don’t how she came to be so weakened and damaged, but she feels like one of them.” His voice was dripping with disdain when he spoke the last word.

Brax had no love for angels either, just like the rest of his race, so he could hardly fault Mal’s reaction. “I concur. She has that angelic vibe about her, without all the taint of some of the older angels.”

Mal nodded. “She doesn’t seem to have developed her brutality yet. She feels almost like a newborn in some ways.”

“She doesn’t look like a newborn,” said Dante with a chuckle of appreciation.

Brax rolled his eyes, though he could hardly fault the younger man for noticing how attractive Abby was. “You must know how angels are born, kid.”

Dante shrugged a shoulder. “I know the featherbrains take all the fun out of it.”

Brax couldn’t help but chuckle as he nodded his agreement. “Yeah, they do at that. Angels aren’t big on messy emotions or physical interaction. They meld pieces of their sols together to reproduce, and the angel comes out fully formed and already grown. It’s a handy tool when you’re making more soldiers for cannon fodder, though I imagine they aren’t pumping out nearly as many these days since Earth became a neutral zone, and Zephael seems content to bide his time before launching a full-scale invasion.”

“He knows he can’t win against their numbers and ruthlessness,” said Dante before asking, “Why would they decide to make angels that way?”

“Don’t know and don’t care, but it isn’t natural,” said Mal firmly.

Brax nodded his agreement with that again. “Demons and humans have a lot in common, particularly when it came to their reproductive processes. If you’re going to end up with a kid, you might as well have fun making it.” Realizing he’d allowed himself to be distracted from the original topic, he shook his head slightly. “The question, gents, is what will we do about the angel?”

“There’s clearly something wrong with her. I don’t mean that in a bad way,” said Mal as he lifted a hand, obviously realizing Dante was about to object. “I just mean she’s damaged in some way. It could mean nothing, or it could mean the other angels are after her. Hell, even our own kind might be hunting her, and we’re just out of the loop since we keep to ourselves here on Earth.”

“That’s true enough.” Brax drummed his fingers on the scarred tabletop for a moment. “She seems pretty vulnerable.”

“She is,” said Dante with passion. “Uzrael would’ve hurt her or worse. She seems lost and clueless. It would be unfair to leave her to the mercy of the world.”

“You’re such an idealist,” said Mal with a hint of accusation in his tone. “Do you really want to get dragged back into the war? You hardly experienced it at all before you had the sense to ditch the whole thing and come to Earth, but I can tell you how ugly it can get.”

“As can I,” said Brax with a sigh. “I lost my father, mother, and siblings to the conflict with the angels before I decided to hell with all of it. I’m not sure I want to get dragged back in, particularly for an angel.”

Dante crossed his arms over his chest, looking vaguely sullen. “I think we should keep her.”

“She isn’t a toy, kid,” said Mal with a hint of irritation. He scowled at the younger demon. “You can’t just keep her.”

“Imagine if we could,” said Dante with a sigh that revealed where his thoughts were. They had clearly taken a carnal direction judging by the way his pupils dilated.

Reluctantly, Brax shifted in his seat when his faded jeans, worn from age, suddenly felt too tight. He could easily imagine what it might be like to touch her soft skin or stroke her silvery blonde hair. He had no trouble seeing the appeal of keeping her in that context, but he was also experienced enough to realize she likely would have no interest in carnal matters anyway.

Angels considered themselves above such things, and none of the three of them were the type to force any sort of interaction a woman didn’t want. They had shared in the past, but only with willing women capable of giving their full consent. That had never included an angel. To his knowledge, there had never been any kind of relationship of that sort between angels and demons even when they all lived on Caelum, before the angels betrayed them.

“I’m not saying we should toss her to the wolves,” said Mal. He seemed to be moderately affected as well, for his cheeks had taken on a ruddy hue. He cleared his throat. “I’m just saying she can’t be with us for long. I don’t want to get dragged back in, and I’m not interested in fighting for either side. I just want to be left alone here on Earth. The angels can keep Caelum, and I couldn’t give two shits about Infernum.”

Brax winced, though he didn’t entirely disagree. After losing his entire family in the fight to regain Caelum, he’d realized it didn’t matter. One realm or the other, it was all about the same. True, Caelum was practically a paradise compared to Infernum, which had been a second-rate sanctuary chosen by a desperate group of refugees trying to avoid genocide from the angels, and he had no interest in living there, but he didn’t care about Caelum either.

The expulsion of the demons had happened well before his birth, so he had never lived there like some of the original demons. He didn’t feel the compulsion to return to it, and he was pretty happy with his life here on Earth. It was mostly peaceful, and he no longer needed to kill or be killed on a daily basis. Was he willing to risk the balance of that just to help a girl who might possibly be an angel with a mysterious past and shrouded future?

“Maybe we could just help her get somewhere safe,” said Dante, though he clearly wanted to do more.

Brax shared a look with Mal, who sighed and nodded after a moment of contemplation. He looked at the younger demon and nodded as well. “Yeah, we’ll do that. That’s all though. After she’s safe, we all walk away. You okay with that, kid?”

Dante scowled at him. “I’m not a kid. I’m two hundred twenty-one.”

Mal snorted. “When you get to be four hundred, then we’ll talk age, kid.”

Brax grinned in spite of the seriousness of the discussion. “I’m only three thirty-two, but I’ve reached a level of wisdom and maturity as well. You’re going to be the kid for a while longer yet, Dante, until you learn to think with more than just your emotions and instincts.”

“And little Dante,” added Mal with a snort.

Dante scowled at both of them, but he didn’t stalk away. He just reached for his beer and kept sipping it, not looking at either one of them for a while. “You’re sure just leaving her and walking away is the right thing to do?” he asked after setting down his beer.

“It feels like the only thing we can do,” said Brax, realizing that wasn’t a full answer, but how could he give one? The idea of leaving her as she was didn’t sit well with him, but neither did he want an angel or demon magnet that might draw him and his friends back into the fight. It was a fight he’d walked away from long ago, and he had no intention of returning to it now.