…I remember never
knowing anything quite as terrifying as the eyes staring back at me.
I had never been more helpless—not in life, not in the afterlife.
My wings were immobile and my only weapon was out of reach. I was a
fallen angel and this—

This was a demon.

I remember what he
said. He grinned. Demons have a lot of sharp teeth, I noticed. They
have a lot of teeth and they're all sharp. Uh-huh. "I wouldn't
try and reach for that again, Reaper."

"Not Reaper," I
said. What I meant, I'm not sure anymore.

The demon's grin, if
anything, grew wider. Looking into those red eyes, I knew what it
knew—once the Reaper, always the Reaper. I may not have liked it,
but I wasn't really in a position to argue. I knew. Once the
Reaper, always the Reaper.

It was Daron who spoke
next. Daron, sweet Daron, the only one of us who had never done
anything worth the fall. He was Creation; he was only a dark
angel because he worked so closely with Sidya. He'd chosen the
title for himself: dark. Daron struggled to sit up, and I remember
being surprised because the demon waited politely for him to sit up.
This thing was amused by me, but actually respected Daron. Weird.

His words were
carefully chosen. He didn't ask why we'd fallen, what any of us
had done to deserve this. "Why," he asked slowly. "Are we
here?" Here—why were we here, of all places?

The demon smiled at
him. The answer was chilling. "You are here to save demonkind."

Save demonkind? Was
this part of God's master plan? Because I'd never thought, before
then, that God had in his master plan the angels of Death and
Creation saving all demonkind. Or part of demonkind. Or any
demonkind.

But hey, I've been
wrong before.

I remember that the
demon refused to elaborate further on its nefarious plot to enslave
Daron and myself into saving demonkind. At the time, I had no idea if
Daron and I would be enslaved, or if the demon's plot was indeed
nefarious, or if the demon even had a plot. But I was a bit on the
panicky side.

The demon disappeared,
leaving Daron and me to wonder quietly what in hell was going on. We
didn't ask each other. Daron just looked over at me and asked, "How
are you feeling?"

I grunted my response,
unwilling to put the effort into speaking. He nodded. I think the
world was making perfect sense to him, right then. But of course it
did. He was Daron, a master of yin and yang, zen, yen, everything.
Don't even try to tell me that yen is money. I don't care. I was
jealous of him. Jealous! At a time like that. I was jealous that his
voice didn't tremble when he spoke, I was jealous that the demon
liked him better than it liked me. I was jealous that he understood
when I was ready to just give up and die.

I remember that Daron
and I were both very quiet when the demon reappeared, with several
more demons following behind him. And I remember my smug feelings of
triumph as the demons picked the two of us up, and Daron whimpered
when I did not.

­-watch after
the sinking stars

and promise to keep
them well

never let them see
your scars

or let them know we
fell-

…I remember that
when we were carried into the demons' big cave, the fuzzy sense of
worry I'd had coming in was replaced by a deep, gut-wrenching fear
that seemed to replace my throat with a block of lead. It wasn't
bad. At least that way I couldn't scream.

We were on a ledge,
the kind you see in adventure movies, where they have the hero all
tied up and on parade in front of the cult or whatever. Except, I
don't know so much about us being heroes, but I guess we were tied
up, and on parade, and in front of the…swarm. The demons were
either furry or scaly or maybe both; tall and skinny and with wings
that looked a lot like mine. "Aida," Daron whispered hoarsely to
me. He was sweating. So was I.

One demon held Daron,
another held me, and the one we'd spoken to before was speaking to
the crowd, my scythe in its hand. "Lucifer upheld his part of the
bargain!" The swarm cheered and I spent the better part of the next
minute trying to figure out how to get my scythe back. "Meet
Creation," the demon said, and Daron was shoved forward. Everything
in the cave sort of stood still for a minute.

I remember feeling
sick at my own previous jealousy as Daron was shoved, hands still
bound, into the waiting crowd below. I saw him trying to flap his
wings and that—not before—was when he screamed. Before I could
even scream for him, he was borne away by waiting claws.

"And meet the
Reaper," the demon finished after I'd lost sight of Daron. I was
pushed roughly forward so all the demons could get a bit of a better
look at me. He held my scythe up. "We have the scythe!" He turned
back to me and sneered, probably figuring himself some perverse
genius. "O, death, where is thy sting? Where is thy victory?"

After that, I didn't
wait to pushed.

I hate being
pushed.

I jumped off of the
ledge and spread my wings. Unlike poor, sweet Daron, I could still
fly. "Daron!" I called, swinging low over the heads of the
demons. I heard the demons laughing behind me as I followed Daron
into a dank tunnel. The tunnel wasn't wide enough for me to keep my
wings spread, so I hastily refolded them and crashed to the ground,
tumbling head over heels and coming to rest against a sharply craggy
wall. Everything here was carved from the same deep red rock, lending
to a growing sense of vertigo.

Getting up was hard, I
remember. I managed to scramble up mostly by leaning hard against the
wall and cursing violently. Once up, I ran through the tunnel in
search of Daron. I don't really know what I had planned upon
finding Daron. Probably I thought I'd just curse the demons to
death and run the hell out of there. Probably I've had smarter
ideas.

I remember then was
when I decided that everything was a big cosmic joke. When I finally
found Daron, he was sitting around with a bunch of demons as one,
apparently some sort of lady demon, explained to him how demon babies
were made. If that doesn't make everything a big cosmic joke, I
really don't know what does.

As it turned out, the
process of making demon babies was the reason Daron and I were down
there.

Oh, ick.

When I got there, the
lady demon stood up and ushered me over next to Daron. She was as
tall and skinny as the rest of them, but I knew she was a lady demon.
"Hello, Reaper," she said to me as I sat down. The other demons
didn't say anything, and Daron looked like he couldn't decide
between fascinated and nauseous. "I was just starting to explain to
your friend here why you lot are here with us. Rokegar said to get
you up to speed."

"Rokegar?"

"I believe you've
met him," the demon lady said with a vicious little grin. I
realized Rokegar was probably the leader fellow, and the one who had
greeted us to boot. By greeted us, I do mean he grinned scarily at
us. "We are the Shai demons, Reaper."

Oh. Hell. "You used
to be the most powerful demon tribe around," I blurted out before I
could stop myself. I often try to stop myself, at times like this.
The lady demon glared at me, snorted, and continued.

"And do you know why
we're not the most powerful demon tribe around?" she hissed. I
shook my head and she laughed a little. "The Fargos demons have
cursed us. They have spent thousands of years building up their power
and they finally did it."

I kept asking
questions. For the life of me, I still don't know why I do that.
"Did…what?"

"Cursed us, Reaper,"
she hissed at me again. Daron had already heard most of this as I'd
been struggling to find him. "They've cursed us! Us, the Shai."
She stopped for a minute, looking bitter. "We have a season to
breed, and two seasons later is the birthing. No mother has come out
of the birthing alive in several years, and the children do not often
survive without their mothers. Our numbers have been dwindling
steadily. It's only a number of years before our numbers are so
small that any tribe can overtake us. This will not happen! We
are the Shai, Reaper, and we are proud. So when Lucifer announced he
was auctioning the Reaper and the fallen Angel of Creation off to the
highest bidder—we were really the only bidders."

I started to ask a
question. I stopped when I caught her meaning: The Shai had carefully
eliminated any competition. There was probably blood involved, maybe
guts. They needed us.

"And so, Reaper,
your considerable talents will be put to use," she continued. "You
will be in the birthing chamber at all times. Shortly before a mother
expires, you will be there with the scythe and an hourglass to
collect the spirit."

"I can only collect
a soul after death," I said. I have to admit, I felt a little
cocky. I was right.

"We're not dealing
with souls here, Reaper," she snarled, backhanding me across the
face. "These are only spirits. The scythe can extract them at any
time." I was wrong. She turned to Daron. "The spirit in the
hourglasses will then be left with the mother's body. As soon as
the child is taken, you will bring the mothers back to life. Do you
know what to do, Daron?"

Daron? He was already
'Daron' to them? Not just—

He was going to do
what?

Daron nodded
miserably. Apparently, he'd figured this out already. "I take the
spirit from the hourglass and work it back into the mother." He
paused, biting his lip. "I think—It shouldn't be too hard. As
long as it's only a few minutes after, it's like planting a
flower. Field is still fertile, seed should take." Great. We were
stuck in some low part of Hell, and Daron was comparing dead demon
ladies' spirits to crop rotations.

The demon lady smiled
at him. I remember being absolutely disgusted. Daron didn't look at
either the demon lady or me. The demon lady gestured for us to get up
and we did, then followed her down through the dark tunnel to a small
room. "The next door leads to the birthing chamber. You will be
either here or there at all times. Food will be brought to you."
The demon lady informed us, and left. That was it.

Our little room was
pretty sparse. Two different corners had little piles of blankets for
us. Daron stood by the door until I'd chosen a pile and slid down,
then he slid down by the other. We must have sat in the heavy silence
for a while, but I had no idea how long. Finally, Daron whispered,
"I'm sorry, Aida." I knew he was apologizing for the way the
demons treated him, versus the way they treated me. But I pretended
not to hear.

…A few days must
have passed. We kept time by meals. We got breakfast and dinner,
which was more than we'd expected, and we had a few jugs of water
left with us at all times. We didn't talk much. When we did, it was
mostly me griping about the demons having my scythe. I felt naked
without it. Daron would always quietly listen to me gripe, and, when
I was finished, comfort me and reassure me.

But when the birthing
started, we didn't have much time for talking anymore. I remember
when the lady demon came in, Rokegar behind her. He carried my
scythe. "It's time," she snapped. "Get up, you have work to
do. And Reaper—I'll be watching you, so don't get any ideas
with that scythe." I was handed my scythe and we were ushered
through the as yet unopened door before us.

As the Reaper of Souls
and Angel of Death and all that jazz, I had seen more than a few
unpretty sights before. I was totally unprepared for the loud,
chaotic sight of dozens of screaming, writhing demon ladies. I was
prodded over towards the demon lady who was screaming the loudest. I
stood, scythe at ready, watching. Even without her own personalized
hourglass, I could tell she had all of a minute to live. I counted
down the seconds quietly, while the demon lady behind me shifted
nervously. "Get on with it!"

"Not yet, not yet!"
My heart was racing. Oh, I just had to get the timing right, plunge
the scythe in just as the spirit was gone—who said I had to be
slave to demons? I'd be damned if I was an angel anymore, but I was
not about to listen to the demons!

It took the lady demon
a little bit before she realized I didn't have the spirit tucked
away in the hourglass. I turned to her to apologize. "I didn't
realize she'd be going so quickly—"

The demon lady was
already dragging me to another demoness. "Do not fail again,
Reaper," she snarled. She seemed serious. I, on the other hand, was
pretty sure this was all a game, and a game I could win. I stood over
the screaming demon, concentrating hard. I hoped that I was
convincing the demon lady behind me. But she caught on quicker, this
time, that I had no intention of saving either the mother or the baby
beneath me.

I don't remember
exactly what happened. She was on top of me, all of a sudden, my
scythe wrestled out of my hands. I do remember being knocked across
the face by the flat of the blade, and the scythe handle provided an
excellent means for the demon lady to choke me. As I gasped for air,
Rokegar and Daron came rushing over from their different places.
Rokegar pulled the demon lady off me, and Daron knelt beside me,
checking for any very bad injuries.

"I told you this was
a bad idea!" the demon lady cried as she strained to pull herself
from Rokegar's grasp. I think she was foaming at the mouth, and if
I'd been told her head was revolving, I'd have believed it. "Why
would we trust angels? Angels! With the fate of the Shai! What
have we sunk to, Rokegar? WHAT?"

Rokegar was not having
an easy time keeping her back. "They're fallen, Dyiral. Fallen!
Like Lucifer!"

Rokegar, either braver
than I'll ever be or far more stupid, let Dyiral go. Dyiral stood
there, panting, but not lunging at me. A good sign. Rokegar bent down
and grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, hoisting me upwards, until
my face was not an inch from his. A bad sign. "Do not let me catch
you failing again, Reaper," he snarled. "You are ours now.
And if you fail again—I will let Dyiral have you. You will be
begging for your death long before it comes. Dyiral is not kind when
it comes to the fate and pride of the Shai. Now get to work, before I
pierce you through with the scythe myself!" I was given my scythe
back and pushed in the general direction of the screaming demon
mothers.

The next time, I'd
given up the game. Scythe went in—scythe came out—and the spirit
went into the hourglass. Daron came and stood next to me as I worked.
When he spoke, his voice was soft. "Please, Aida," he said to me.
"Please, just wait a while. We'll have our chance to escape,
but…this isn't it. Please don't make this worse for yourself,
Aida."

"Only myself? They
won't beat you up too?" I sneered as I went to work on another
screaming demon mother.

"I'm not the one
making them angry, Aida," he said gently. I snorted and didn't
respond. "Aida, they're suffering. These are mothers and babies.
Any other time, I wouldn't ask you to just…do what they ask. But
this is birth, and birth is something sacred. Please, Aida."

I looked down at the
demon lady beneath me as I took her soul away. I didn't see
anything sacred—I didn't see anything at all.

-…and I'm back
in this dark place, this prison in my mind

freedom another
illusion I'm not destined to find

a darkness unending,
the sum of my fears

and yet in the
darkness I have no more fears­-

…I remember that
nothing in the caves of Hell ever made me feel quite as small as when
Daron gave up on me. We'd been killing and reanimating demons for
almost two months and I was unrelenting in all sorts of things. I was
unrelenting in my disgust for the demon mothers; unrelenting in my
hatred for the demons, particularly Rokegar and Dyiral; unrelenting
in belittling Daron for having any sort of pity for the demon mothers
and babies; and unrelenting in my vocalized needs for escape and my
scythe.

I remember we were
picking apathetically at the dinner the demons had provided for us.
We never did figure out what was in the food; early on, we'd
decided it was better for both stomachs and sanity not to ask.

"I wonder what
happened to the others," I said. It had been on my mind ever since
waking up and finding only Daron with me.

Daron scratched the
back of his neck, a gesture that normally meant thinking. "They
mentioned auctions," he said. "Lucifer had us up for auction."

"That leaves an odd
angel out," I said. "Oh, no. I couldn't even think of going
through this alone!"

Daron didn't respond
immediately. "I could," he said finally, darkly. I shuddered. "I
hope they're all doing better than we are, anyway." We were quiet
then for a while. I started up again soon after because I was never
one for silences, be they awkward or contemplative.

"What I really don't
understand is why we're still…us, you know?" I sighed and
leaned my head against the dark rock wall, pushing my food away from
me with my foot. "Why you're still Creation and I'm still the
Reaper if we're fallen. I mean…Lucifer isn't the Morningstar
anymore, you know? I thought things changed when you're fallen. You
join the ranks of Hell and stuff."

"Aida, we did join
the ranks of Hell."

"Feh," I said..
"But I'm still the Reaper. I'm not just another fallen angel,
doing generally evil things for Lucifer. I'm fallen, but I'm
still the Reaper! I have still have my scythe and everything—well,
um, sort of? You know what I mean. Gah, the Reaper. Why did I ever,
ever let God talk me into that? No one likes the Angel of
Death. No one is ever happy to see me! You had it easy. No one liked
me then, no one likes me now…but even the demons like you!"

I knew I'd messed up
when it took Daron so long to respond. And when he did, I could have
sunk into the floor. "Easy? You think being the Angel of Creation
is—was easy? You never saw half the things I saw. Murder? Disease?
I had those in spades wherever I started. Let's not forget…what
do they call those in court? Acts of God. And I had to rebuild! I had
to give people hope, and I don't think you know how hard that was.
How hard it is? Do you know? What have I been doing down here
but trying to give you hope? And you never take it. You are so at
home in your misery that you can't even see me trying to help—and
for what? Because you're the Reaper? Oh, what an excuse. You were
given a gift, Aida. Wings! A purpose even in death. Most people can't
ever claim that. But you're the Reaper—you'll fade away
tragically young for an angel—but do you know how many people never
live as long as you lived, much less how much you're living
after death?"

I thought it would end
there. As I'd come to expect, though, I was wrong. "And you think
you're alone. We're all screwed, Aida, do you get it? You weren't
the only dark angel who did terrible things. And you're not the
only dark angel who fell for…for…God knows what reason! And—my
God, Aida—I'm done trying to help! I can't help you anymore! I
more than anyone should know that you can't plant a seed in
concrete! I've tried holding you up, Aida, but I can't. My
wings are broken, Aida. I can't take care of you anymore. I can't."
He turned away from me and we didn't speak another word for the
rest of the night.

I remember the sinking
feeling in my stomach as he turned away. I was horrified by what he
said. I was so hopeless that even Creation had given up on me! But
the feeling gave way to disgust, this time at myself. I was doing
exactly what he said I did: I was wallowing in my self-pity. I had
enough self-pity for a pretty good wallow, you know.

I didn't want to be
that anymore. I wanted to help Daron through this the way he'd
tried so hard to help me. But I remember not knowing how, and so I
said nothing to him.

-See the Reaper's
frightened eyes

Scythe goes in,
scythe goes out

She knows she'll
scream before she dies

Scythe goes in,
scythe goes out-

…It took me some
very long amount of time of demon-saving to have reality hit me in
the face. It started when Daron turned wordlessly away from me and
manifested itself into everything I saw the next few days. It was
more than the fact that I was fallen, more than that demons were
using me to stay powerful, more than that Daron no longer believed in
me. It was more than that I was alone. It was that I was incomplete,
shattered and stretched and broken with a gaping hole where large
bits of me had once been.

I remember once, when
I was both alive and very little, I heard something in the dark. I
was terrified that a monster would come, and I felt vulnerable,
lonely and afraid and with no way to protect myself. The feeling
never really went away; it was strongest again when I died and always
sat in the back of my mind. But when I was with the other dark
angels—when I was with Lesetan—I could forget that feeling.
Lesetan especially was everything I've never been: strong, serene,
wise. He could protect me when everything seemed to closing in around
me.

Daron had given up on
me; Sidya, who could always bully me into a smile, was missing;
Lesetan, the only one who could protect me, was missing; and Red, the
one who held us all together, was missing. There were monsters in the
shadows and I was just some lonely little kid. I didn't even have
my scythe to hide behind.

And it was when
everyone had given up on me that the demons decided our job was done.
With all the demon mothers Daron and I had seen screaming beneath us,
I wasn't sure I believed that the Shai's numbers were dwindling.
Or maybe they just had a disproportionate amount of lady demons. I
really didn't know. But Rokegar came to get us one day, and
everything changed.

"What now?" Daron
asked quietly. If I had asked, I'd have gotten slapped across the
face. No one seems to slap Daron across the face.

Rokegar regarded us
for a moment. The expression on his face was not a hopeful sign.
"There are…other uses for the fallen. Dyiral will teach you to
heal those of us who have fallen in battle. The Reaper will be
retrained for battle."

"What do you mean,
retrained?" Rokegar looked like he was going to slap me, but I was
across the room and sitting down and apparently not worth the effort.
I still can't decide which way is worse.

"Get up," Rokegar
snarled. I think maybe it wasn't a particularly malicious
statement, but that everything Rokegar said involved snarling. Maybe
all those teeth. But we got up and followed Rokegar out of our cell
and into the long stone corridor we'd come down months before. Had
it been months? Days had begun to lose meaning.

I remember not even
trying to run away, which was confusing even at the time. We weren't
bound and Rokegar was the only demon around. Granted, we had no
weapons, and the corridor wasn't wide enough for flying, but I
didn't even try. Before getting the chance to further analyze my
noticeable absence of escape plans, the corridor opened up into the
huge main cave where we'd been displayed to all the Shai. A group
of demons was waiting there for us.

Rokegar gestured to
one as he held Daron's arm tightly. "Take him to Dyiral." The
demon nodded and grabbed Daron like he was a baton in a race. I
remember a sharp pain behind one of my eyes as claws dug into skin
and Daron said nothing, only allowed himself to be led off. He turned
his head to look at me as he was led off, and…he was so scared. The
rest of my head started hurting, like when you're holding back
tears and feel like your eyes are going to burst. I might have been
doing that, actually. I don't know so much.

And then Rokegar's
claws were on my arm.

"We are going to
make you into some semblance of a warrior, Reaper," he sneered at
me. I remember looking around the cave at the knot of demons he was
dragging me towards. I was cracking my knuckles anxiously now, the
headache intensifying. I wanted Daron. I wanted to be away from
there.

I wanted my scythe.

I was standing in the
middle of a circle of demons. I remember the way they grinned as they
flexed long, lazy claws in my direction. Rokegar had grinned at me
like that, so long ago that I wasn't sure anymore if it was real,
when he first denied me my scythe. My scythe is mine! It was
not his to take from me!

"Fight us, Reaper,"
Rokegar was saying as he grinned at me. Demons have so many teeth…

I felt my knees buckle
and lock in quick succession, watching the demons inch their way
closer, claws out and grins wide. My world had come down to five
things: demons advancing on me—my blinding headache—my buckling
knees—my heart lodged in my throat—and my scythe. The absence of
my scythe.

I am no warrior angel.
Unlike Lesetan, unlike Red, unlike Sidya, my purpose was never to
fight. All I was ever supposed to do was take the souls away. When
the demons fell on me, they fell hard. I remember every place the
claws tore. I remember demons grabbing at the tender places of my
wings and the way I screamed so loudly I thought the screaming would
kill me.

I remember how careful
the demons were not to break me. How they pushed me to the edge and
left me there, screaming, then pushed me away and stood back. I
remember the red dust of the ground rushing up my nostrils and
choking me as I sobbed and screamed. My right hand curled around a
scythe that was not there; my left clutched a long chain of a
dreamed-up hourglass. My head felt no better for all the tears I
cried.

The demons let me sob
for a little more, laughing at me. Then Rokegar knelt down and
grabbed the collar of my shirt, pulling me into an awkward
half-sitting position. He curled his claws through the fabric,
pulling me higher. "Reaper, you are weak," he spat. He
stood up quickly, pulling me up with him. I had to struggle to get my
feet under me. I let him hold me up there as I stood limply. He held
me with one hand and slapped me across the face with his other, claws
raking across my cheek. My head snapped to one side with his blow—

And there it was.

There was no miracle,
no Divine Intervention, no nothing. It's just—there it was. My
head snapped to one side and I was looking at a demon, leaning lazily
on my scythe.

I guess I must have
stared for a while, because Rokegar turned to look at what I was
seeing. He laughed and said, "The scythe is in good hands, Reaper.
No need to cry again." He let go of my shirt and grabbed my chin
instead, forcing me to look at him. Demons are ugly. Really very
ugly. "I will make you into a fighter, Reaper, if I have to flay
the skin off your pathetic back to do so."

I didn't answer. I
remember pulling back my head so he would let go of my chin and
turning to look at my scythe again. The demon was holding my scythe
like…like it was his.

I turned back to look
at Rokegar. "Give me back my scythe," I said.

Rokegar laughed.
"You're not touching the scythe again until we have broken you
thoroughly, Reaper."

"No," I said,
taking a step back from him. "Give me back my scythe."

He narrowed his eyes
like he thought I might be joking, but he didn't get the punch
line. I took another step back. "I won't ask again," I said
quietly. "Give me back my scythe."

I remember the way
Rokegar watched me watching the demon with my scythe. "Reaper, make
one move towards the scythe—" he began, growling.

Too late. Too late. I
was already in the air, wings wide around me, lunging at the demon
holding my scythe. I remember Rokegar and the other demons spread
their wings to move and intercept me. Demons are fast…but I was
fallen, and I had nothing left to lose.

I reached the demon
before any of the other demons could stop me. He rose into the air to
get away, but I already had my hands on my scythe. The demon pulled
it back savagely and I kicked him; he sunk a little in the air and I
pulled a little harder on my scythe. By this time the other demons
were clawing at me, trying to pull me down and away from my scythe. I
don't remember the feel of their claws at all. The demon and I were
wrestling in the air, tumbling over one another as we kicked and
pulled.

I remember never
feeling so proud as the moment I pulled my scythe away and kicked the
demon to the ground. For the shortest second, I remember a surge of
hope, thinking I would be getting out of the caves, but the demons,
the ones clawing at me, were now gouging and grabbing, pulling at my
scythe. I remember screaming and screaming and pulling my scythe
until my fingers were raw.

I remember when
Rokegar pushed the other demons aside, grabbing the long handle of my
scythe and almost pulling it away from me right then. It occurred to
me, I think, that demons probably didn't elect their leaders. There
was probably fighting involved. He yelled at me, but I wasn't
listening so much. All I needed was my scythe…

Rokegar wrestled my
scythe out of my grip then. He kicked me in the chest and I fell to
the ground. Immediately, he had my scythe delicately scraping across
my throat. I felt the weight of his body on my legs and the heat of
his body and fur. He leered at me, hot breath hitting my face, and
growled, "Death, where is thy sting? Grave, thy victory?"

And I remember,
then—exactly then, as the leader of the Shai demons was pressing my
own scythe into my throat and quoting Corinthians at me—was when I
snapped. It was my scythe! My name was not Reaper! I snarled
low in my throat and pushed Rokegar away, my hands gripping my scythe
before I think he even realized what I was doing. In a few seconds I
had him pinned under me much the same way as he'd had me, scythe
tickling his throat.

"Here," I
whispered. "Is my sting. Here is my victory."

I stabbed him in the
chest, dragging my scythe downwards before ripping it out. I took his
spirit with the blade as I tore through for the sheer perverted
pleasure of it. I remember the demons all stopped for a minute as
Rokegar died, watching me.

I don't remember who
moved first. There were at least a dozen demons in the cave, all of
them better skilled with their weapons than I was. But I remember
laughing as the demons came closer and ripped into me again.

I don't remember the
battle that well. Oh, I remember the way I laughed, the comfortable
weight of my scythe in my hands as I swung. But I don't remember
which demons hit me, or even where; I don't remember the screams of
the demons as they died. I don't remember if they screamed at all.

Maybe it was only ever
me who screamed.

I don't even
remember how it ended, only that I was left on my knees, dead demons
littered around me. The blade of my scythe was drenched in blood, and
I was leaning over, throwing up.

And when Daron found
me, his wings set and healing rapidly from the work of the Shai
healers, I remember being unable to look him in the eye.

-air never did taste
so sweet

nor even taste so
free

as that last
ambrosia night

by the ever-changing
sea-

…I
remember that Daron was pulling me out of the cave before I could
even realize what was happening. He was tugging my arm, begging me.
"Aida, come on, fly! Just up to that ledge—Dyiral will be here
any second and I swear we'll be done for…"

I quickly came to. The
threat of Dyiral somehow seemed realer to me than everything that had
just happened. But before he'd even spread his wings to fly, Dyiral
and a few other demons came out of a tunnel.

Time may have stood
still. It does that sometimes. For a moment, as Dyiral surveyed the
carnage and the blood, my heart stopped. But time returned to normal
and Daron and I, clutching each other's hands, were winging upwards
to the cavern that would lead us outside once more. Dyiral beat us to
the ledge, though, and snarled savagely as she blocked our way.

"Where do you think
you're going?" she demanded.

"Away!" Daron
answered, and I hooked the scythe around her form and managed to push
her out of the way. We moved fast, after that, straining newly
reformed and still-cramped wings to the point of numbness. We didn't
look behind us. We were too scared.

We tore out of the
cavern that we'd once been lain in, months before, without pause.
We could hear Dyiral and the other demons close behind us. I didn't
even register that we'd fled into the sunlight, into a forest,
until we stopped, much later. For a long while, we just flew, each
clutching the other, audaciously hoping that we could get the hell
away. We stopped suddenly—Daron stopped suddenly—when Daron
realized that he could no longer hear Dyiral behind us. We'd
covered a large amount of ground, and perhaps Dyiral, who had never
wanted us in her tribe in the first place, couldn't justify
following us.

We didn't care much.

So we stopped, and I
remember one panic fading to the next as I realized we were lost,
with nowhere to go. We sat on loamy ground, just looking around in
the sunlight. Sunlight. I remember being dazzled with the light—it
had been months since we'd seen sunlight! Months since we'd
smelled fresh air!

We were free, with
nowhere to go.

I remember spending
all the rest of the day just sitting, resting, trying hard not to
think of what would become of us. I remember deciding that most of my
fears seemed groundless when we heard something behind us.

"Well, if it isn't
a couple of fallen."

-The call comes far,
but to my ears

The only thing to
mindI cry from salt, sweet bitter tears

That siren I cannot
find-

…I remember at least
a dozen thoughts burst into my mind and that none of them were quite
as strong as the fear. The fear we'd felt leaving the caves was
nothing compared to this. This—we'd been free, we'd been ours,
we'd been in the sun and now, before it was even night we'd be
taken away—this was—

"Sidya," Daron
whispered.

I remember whirling
around and good sweet Jesus there was Sidya, all blue hair and
raggedy little red wings and about to die laughing. I was still
trembling a little and have been told by reliable sources that I
looked pale. It might have been the months without sunlight, but hey,
I'd also gotten the crap scared out of me right then.

Sometimes I hate
Sidya.

I must have started
speaking, because Sidya started laughing again. "Something the
matter, Aida?"

"Oh, no, I just
thought you were a psychotic demon lady sneaking up on us," I said.
"Now that I see that you are not, in fact, a demon lady—"

We all paused. Then
Daron said softly, "You're not a demon lady…right?"

Sidya laughed again,
but it was a strangled sound and died quickly. She sighed and slung
her arm around Daron's skinny shoulders, kissing him sloppily on
the cheek. "No, I'm not a demon lady. I've heard that you are
though, Pinky-Pants." She looked at both of us. I still don't
know who she was talking to. Daron and I both had our share of
exciting pants.

I laughed, suddenly so
happy. "Pinky-Pants! Oh, Sidya, Sidya! You're here and we're
here and none of us are demons!" She and Daron both laughed
hesitantly at first, but I kept laughing and we were all laughing,
long and loud and hard. I laughed so hard I couldn't breathe, and
felt my heart lifting so fast it was painful.

…We'd been sold
off in pairs.

Who was with who and
who was alone?

"Come with me,"
Sidya said, one arm still slung around Daron's shoulders, offering
the other hand to me. "You guys smell funny and you look tired."
We didn't argue. We did smell funny. We followed Sidya through the
sinking afternoon into a bright city. Daron kept looking over his
shoulder, but Sidya would give him a little shove every time he did.

Once upon a time,
because they may have been drunk and because they found it funny,
Sidya and Redemption bought an apartment. A large apartment in New
York City that had a park next to it. When they were no longer drunk
and it was no longer funny, we had an apartment. They're still not
clear as to quite how they managed to buy it, and constantly mumble
something about God-credit, but…we had an apartment. It had always
been a convenient place to hole up with a bottle of liquor for a few
days until the urge to strangle anything with a halo passed.

It shouldn't have
been too much of a surprise to us that Sidya was leading us there,
but being smelly and cold and shell-shocked, it was. Sidya led us in,
laughing about someone she'd met, but I wasn't listening as she
opened the door and ushered us home.

Two large swords were
hung carefully over the television. "Great conversation pieces,
those," Sidya said absently when she caught me staring. I'd
forgotten about the swords. Sidya had a sword. Someone else had a
sword. But there were beers in the fridge and I got my choice between
beer or shower—I took the first shower, drinks are nice but damn
if I didn't smell—so I stopped wondering about swords for a
while.

I was stepping out of
the shower and towards the beers when the door opened and Lesetan
stepped in. I remember it took a great amount of finesse to run over
and hug him without the towel falling down, but I am nothing if not
resourceful. He didn't let me go for a very long time, and I was
grateful that I'd chosen to have beers later. He probably would not
have hugged me if I still smelled the way Daron did.

It was only later,
while Lesetan held me in the glow of late-night television, that I
realized this meant Redemption wouldn't be coming.

-The rain
is falling
And the flowers are dying
The Eternal is calling
For his lost child crying-

…As the weeks went
by, they got blurrier. Lesetan and Sidya would never let Daron and I
leave the apartment alone. I resented it a little at first, but I got
the feeling that it comforted Daron, and I saw the reasoning in that.
We were new to the world of the free fallen angels and we were
vulnerable. Who knew what the Shai—or any other demons, for that
matter—were up to? We didn't know. Sidya had made friends with
some shady characters—a half-angel and a half-demon, some sort of
detectives, she claimed—and spent a lot of her time with them
searching for information. Lesetan was working at some health-food
store that sold bean sprouts and things, because he said our
mysterious 'God-credit' didn't last once we'd fallen. With a
good few months of rent due and four fallen angels to feed, Lesetan
was working hard. Daron eventually joined him.

I stayed home.

Despite the money that
was pouring—trickling, it was trickling—in, and Sidya's
near-constant contact with her supernatural detectives, we never came
any closer to finding anything out. Our list of contacts was short:
we weren't going to chance going down to Hell and find ourselves at
the mercy of any tribe of shades, and devils and lilin were quiet. No
one could tell us why we'd fallen or why we'd been divided up the
way we had. All anyone really ever offered us was surprise that the
demons who had bought Sidya and Lesetan had bought them together—who
would take Destruction and War, complete with their swords, together?
It was no wonder Sidya and Lesetan had escaped their demon captors
within a matter of hours. But that didn't help us find answers…or
Red.

I remember one day
better than any of the rest. We'd been free from the Shai demons
for almost three months. I was cold, sort of hungry, and there was
nothing good to watch. Being alone made me antsy, but I couldn't
take the bean sprout place and the thought of actually searching out
contacts with Sidya made me sick. My wings ached from disuse and I
swear my scythe was looking rusty.

I'd been tuning out
the soap operas and infomercials for a solid month at that point, and
while the pictures still flickered in front of my eyes, I was
thinking other things. Sidya and Lesetan's swords, my scythe—they
were Heavenly weapons, really. God had given to us when He had given
us jobs. When we were angels, they could only do their single
appointed task—destroy for God, make war for God, collect a soul
for God—but down here, with our broken hearts and wings, they
killed. Were they still the same weapons we'd had in Heaven? I
didn't even know if it mattered. They had fallen with us.

I was in the middle of
pondering just why scythes are so scary—you start war with a sword,
you destroy with a sword, but your soul is ripped from you with a
scythe? It looks like a hockey stick, honestly—when the knock came
on the door. Since the TV made me sad, with all manners of daytime
uselessness, I was more than happy to jump up so fast I fell back
down, jump up again, and race to the door to open it. Not that I was
lonely or anything. I looked out the little peephole. Never can be
too sure if a demon, or the mafia, or scary people, would be standing
just outside.

And good sweet goddamn
if it wasn't Redemption wasn't standing there.

She was smiling
softly, her eyes tired. I noticed a few new scars, faded and nearly
gone, tracing her face and arms. I also noticed a few new swords, two
long, silver-blue things that she had certainly not had the
last time I'd seen her.

I squealed. I do that.
"Red!" And I had my arms around her neck, laughing and holding
her tight. She was hugging me back, and I felt tears on my shoulder
before we pulled away.

"You," she said
quietly when she finally stopped crying and I had her settled on the
couch. "Have been no end of worry to me." She glanced around the
living room, noting Sidya and Lesetan's swords. Everything in
order, the old gang about to fall back into place. "Imagine my
reaction when I woke up back in Heaven and none of you were there."

That was a surprise.
"What? You're…you're not fallen anymore?"

She shrugged. "I'd
be killing you about now if I was," she said. She tossed her head
towards the swords she'd brought in. "Meet Gishon and Pichon."
She told me a little bit about her own adventure in Hell. "I got so
damn used to my hell-swords Phlegethon and Cocytus that the first
thing I asked for, after a blunt object to bludgeon a few archangels
with, was swords of my own."

Sidya came home first,
slamming the door shut and hollering about a useless city filled with
useless people. "Not a damn word on Redemption! The lilin aren't
saying a thing." She paused and squinted at Redemption, starting to
speak and then stopping. "Hey, Red." Sidya came over to the couch
and leaned over to poke Redemption's swords. Redemption nodded and
waved at her. Boy Meets World was on and Red was enthralled.

Lesetan and Daron came
in, saw Red, and walked back out. They came back in, Daron nodding.
"See, I told you she wouldn't disappear if we left. The door is
not magical, Lesetan." Lesetan shrugged and Redemption stuck her
tongue out at them, only to have all the air knocked out of her as
all of us piled on top of her. When we got off, Red was laughing and
crying again.

We swapped stories for
a while; Red told hers first, then Lesetan and Sidya filled her in
about their escape and the apartment, and Daron I told our story. I
let Daron do most of the talking, only chipping in substantially when
he'd reached my demon massacre. We sat in a sort of smush on the
floor, with pillows, couch cushions, and blankets all around us.
Sidya had brought beer over eventually.

"I'm glad that's
one less thing I have to ask unhelpful demons about," Sidya said.
"And Lilith…helping you. That sort of explains the weirdness I
got from the lilin when I went to them."

"So," Lesetan said
thoughtfully. "Red, you've been back up to Heaven, and you're
all redeemed. Do you—"

"Know why we fell?"
Redemption finished for him. She nodded, tilting her head back to
finish off her beer. "I…think I do. I got as much information as
I could. Things upstairs are a little tight-lipped right now."

"Why?" I asked.

Red smiled grimly.
"Because the archangels screwed up, and they screwed up bad,"
she said. Jokes and beer forgotten, I know we all leaned in to
listen, but I was paying attention to nothing else but Redemption.
She knew, when none of us had been able to find out why. She'd been
alone in Hell and she still knew. "Lucifer fell from Heaven because
he had some interesting ideas about supplanting God."

"Because obviously
we were going to do that too," Sidya said.

"We weren't. The
archangels were." Redemption glanced at her empty bottle sadly.
"Our four dearest archangels were apparently whispering some bad
things among themselves. Apparently all this suffering and sinning
down here on Earth had got them down, and they began to ask
themselves—was God really sure of what He's doing? Worse sins
have been committed, but the last time people whispered that sort of
thing in Heaven—Lucifer fell, the earth shook, like that. I'm not
saying God didn't hear them too, but…Lucifer found out."

"What?" Daron
sputtered. "How?"

Redemption shrugged.
"Dunno. But he did. Had this delightful bit of leverage over
Gabriel and the others now, too." We all exchanged glances,
muttering and cursing. "So Lucifer says to them, hey, why don't
we make a deal? Send the dark angels crashing down to Hell, and my
lips stay sealed. Now, God hadn't said anything to them, so they
figured…maybe He doesn't know. And they agreed. And we fell."

I thought I was going
to be sick. "So we got sold off then," Sidya muttered.

"We'd been
auctioned off some time before, actually," Redemption corrected.
"But we got split up and…well. Deals with the devil never work
the way they're supposed to, right? Because we're all here now."

"We're all here,"
Daron said. "Are we—are we going to be redeemed?"

"Wait, but I don't
care," Sidya said. "Archangels are the reason we fell? And now
they don't expect me to go back up there and kill them?"

"You can't,"
Redemption said. "You're fallen. But not for long. There's a
few things to take care of, then yeah. I've been sent to redeem
you."

"What could we
possibly need to take care of?" I asked. "Lesetan and Daron need
to quit their jobs at the stupid bean-sprout place?"

"Not exactly,"
Redemption said, taking Lesetan's drink and peering at it
curiously. "Did you know there's a tribe of demons outside? They
wanted a word with you, Aida. Something about massacres."

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