Truths Revealed [cw]

It had been near impossible to gather any information on Calvin, let alone where he’d gone. He'd been quick to establish a search team for the demon after he'd rescued Elenora, but they'd found no trace of him. Furthermore, the images people had of him seemed to change every time he saw them, so he didn't even know what he looked like. However, his angels had found something. Apart from his familiar relations and prior occupation, they’d found that he was married. So, he commanded two of his angels to find his wife, convinced that it would bring him closer to the demon. They waited for her to go somewhere alone before they'd shot her unconscious with a sleep dart and transported her.
They took her to an old chapel in an underground mine, long since abandoned. But there was something majestic about the tall ceiling and its carved stone statues. The only source of light came from two torchlights on the wall next to the entrance and a few candles on the altar, illuminating a large cross above it. The original wooden benches stood in perfect symmetry on each side of the nave, but the shelves were broken off, leaving splinters of wood near the walls. The demon was sitting in a wooden chair with her wrists chained to the armrests in the space in front of the altar. On the ground was a drawn devil’s trap, rendering her unable to escape. And with the holy space surrounding her, he figured it wouldn't take long before she'd talk.

Once she awoke, she’d be faced with an angel standing guard by the entrance. His sole purpose was to keep an eye on her. But as he noticed her awakening, he exited the chapel to call the archangel and stand guard outside the doors instead. Michael teleported to the location moments later, but as he opened the doors, and saw who the wife was, he froze in place. The heavy doors closed shut behind him. He couldn’t believe it at first. That the woman he’d met could be the wife of a serial killer. And although he’d suspected her to be exactly that the first time they'd met, she’d quickly managed to change his mind. She’d seemed so genuine that he’d deemed her to be part of the small percentage of demons who were morally good. He clearly couldn't have been more wrong. “You.” He stepped closer, thinking he’d made a grave misjudgment the last time they’d met. “You’re the wife of Calvin Ambrose.” He stopped at the outline of the trap as he looked at her, and the more he did, the quicker he fell back to his original precognition of her. “In that case, I take it you know why I’ve brought you here.” He stepped around to the altar behind her where a few objects had been prepared. Checking if everything was as he'd requested. “We can do this as slow or quick as you like,” he said as he lifted a rosary from a bowl of sanctified water and placed it on the altar. He then turned to walk back in front of her, the tip of his shoes stopping at the outline of the trap. For a moment he just looked at her, confident he'd be able to see through her lies this time. “Do you know of your husband’s whereabouts?”

This year was soon four months in. Only four months, but it already felt like the year should have ended and started anew. Everything that had happened since the 24th of December had been nothing short of a nightmare. And though the soul demon got her power from souls and the very essence that nightmare was created upon. She didn’t’ care much for how her life had turned out.

So, when she woke, in a damped and rundown chapel, she wasn’t even surprised at this point. The only thoughts were great discomfort. A feeling that was all too familiar to her. She had used her whole childhood in a place like this, and memories that she had long buried came rushing over her like an avalanche. A small groan left her, which had to be what alerted who ever had been watching over her. Another strong angelic aura. Why had angels gone to such great lengths in getting her? Not only had they tied her to the chair, holy symbols burning into her skin but there was even a devil’s trap under her feat making sure she couldn’t use her abilities to escape. And even though her powers had always been somewhat strong she could feel how weak and useless she felt at this very moment. She was left alone. Eris blue eyes looked around, wondering where she was, but also how the hell she was supposed to get out of this alive.

Then she felt it. The strong angelic aura, the one that had drawn her in such a long time ago. Even as it had burned her very existing being near, she had still invited him to take a drink with her. Understand why he had followed her and how he had changed his mind that even some demons could be redeemed in the sense of not killing them by sight. She would have greeted him with a smile, if it hadn’t been for the strong you that left his lips. He clearly hadn’t expected her. So, why was she here then? He quickly told her just how much in trouble she was. Calvin Ambrose. She clicked her tongue before she could stop herself. Only found him again, and she was already in trouble because of him. Why was she even surprised? “No” she said with a hoarse and strained voice. She had no idea why; she was his wife yes. She knew that Calvin had plans and some of them evolved her being back into his life. Something she was still considering with great distrust. But why the angels had thought that she would now anything was ridicules.

“Is that a promise?” she said sarcastically when he told her there was two ways, they could do this. “I might, but that doesn’t mean that I just give any information out, when people kidnap me and start asking questions without telling me what is going on” she pulled a little in her restrains to make a point, that her giving him anything would be a great stupidity on her side. He could kill her and get nothing, but what held him back from killing her if she told him what he needed? No, she didn’t play like that.

No. He halted his movement, letting his fingers hover above the shaft of a knife. The denial sounded sincere, but he couldn’t believe that she was entirely unaware. She knew he’d done something bad, just not what that bad was. Besides, she could as well be lying—just like she’d done the night of their first meeting, played into his emotions in a ploy of deceit. Because he couldn’t explain it any other way—why the woman he’d met that night was sitting behind him now. He lowered his hand to the blade, etching holy scripture into it. The letters illuminated a dim blue that was doused the moment he let go. He then swept a grey cloth above the items, covering them because he never resorted to torture as the first thing. And part of him hoped that it wouldn’t be necessary to use with her, that there were demons out there who were different, that despite their opposite nature, they wanted to meet the angels halfway, favoring peace over war.

“Of course.” She deserved an explanation. And he was only happy to give her one because he knew it'd make her more inclined to talk. He stepped into the trap, tracing her shoulder as he grabbed the back of the chair and turned her to face him. He then backed up, leaning against the altar as he reached into his pocket to retrieve a photograph. He gave it a long glance, once more discovering that the man in the portrait had changed appearance. “I wouldn’t have brought you into this if I hadn’t tried to find him on my own.” He turned the portrait in hand, showing a soldier in uniform with the name Ambrose on his chest, in which there only was one in his regiment. But his hair was too dark, and his lips too full, and every little feature was tweaked just enough to make the man look anything but the demon in mention. “Something is altering every portrait of him, and that’s only half of the complications we’ve encountered.” He wouldn’t usually admit to such things, but it was the only reason she was in this position. He placed the photograph on the altar and returned his attention to the demon. “He’s under strong protection, and right now, you’re the best thing I’ve got to finding him.” Even if she didn’t talk, holding her captive might just be enough to lure him out of his hiding place, and that would be better than most other options. “He took my daughter in February, trapped her in a basement devoid of light, broke her until there barely was any pieces left, and he’d killed her too if it wasn’t for me finding her first,” he explained, watching her reaction to his words, for any sign of sympathy. For anything he hadn’t been able to see the first time they'd met.

For a fraction of a moment, he thought she would help just like that. He’d noticed the change in her expression when he’d mentioned what had happened to his daughter, and he’d hoped it would prove her to be that empathetic. But it turned out to be wishful thinking. Because instead, she wanted to focus on the way he’d brought her here. A minor issue in comparison. “I’m not,” he replied calmly, his gaze fixed on her as he stepped closer. Ignoring her snarling. Most people would be angry in her situation, so it was to be expected. Especially if she thought he held her accountable. But he genuinely didn’t believe she had been involved in the harm done to his daughter. In fact, he didn’t even think she'd known and just kept quiet about it. Although to some degree she must have known something.

“This—” he gestured to the trap, then raised his gaze to the stone statues, guarding the walls of the mine. “—is nothing but a precaution.” His hand lowered to his sides as he looked down at her. “Believe it or not but approaching a demon on the street and demanding they answer my questions has never quite worked out for me. Secondly, I didn’t know it was you, my angels set all of this up, and even if I did, I wouldn’t trust you not to bolt as soon as you saw the opportunity.” Was she truly that delusional, to think he’d have any success if he went another route? Did she not think he would have if such was the case? And all because she might be different? Might. No. He had never been one to rely on speculation alone and it sure as hell wasn’t going to start with the wife of a serial killer. No matter what his prior impression of her had been. Still, it bothered him that she couldn’t see how grave the situation was. That he only wanted to do the righteous thing and save future victims from reliving the same fate as his daughter. “I assure you that you wouldn’t have those shackles around your wrists if I knew you’d have this conversation of your own will. And I don’t want to harm you if don’t have to. But I don’t have the time to risk everything I do on honorability and kindness.” It didn’t require a deep character study to know that his job didn’t allow that. He’d never get anything done. And even if he couldn’t reason with her now, she’d eventually grow weary of the interrogation. There was always a point in time when they did. “Help me find him and I’ll release you.” He started walking halfway around the trap, circling her like a shark. “Tell me why his image changes.” He had suspected magic to be the cause, but it had been ongoing for days, which either meant it wasn’t or that he had a witch on hand. He returned to the altar, touching the photograph as he glanced at it. For now, it had remained the same.

She was making this a lot harder than it had to be. But he supposed the distrust between them came in the way of any reconciliation—if there ever had been a chance for that. He had tried to meet her halfway. He’d given her promises that she could reach out to in order to prove that he was telling the truth. Alas, she refused. She didn't even try. His fingers curled into a fist above the photograph before he looked up at the cross behind the altar. “You don’t. But you owe it to all those innocent lives out there,” he said, growing more frustrated with her. She hadn’t said anything useful nor did she express any intention of doing so. She didn't want to help. He could only take that as a sign of her loyalty to her husband. And he became more believing of her having taken many lives of her own. That she, like Calvin, had engaged in tormenting them beforehand. The mere thought made him sick.
“You won’t even give me a chance to prove that I'm telling the truth.” He grabbed the edge of the table before he shook his head a little. Of course, he could be the one to start the trust-building, but he really couldn't take that chance. And now he no longer considered it worth a shot. It was evidently pointless. “I know you’re covering up for him. If anything it goes to show how much of a liar you have been,” he accused before he turned around to face her. He remembered what she’d said that night. He remembered that she’d cried real tears because of their conversation. But it appeared that she was just as deceiving as her husband. That she’d only said those things to get the archangel off her back. Now, he did believe that she’d suffered in the name of God. He believed holy men had tried to heal her when there wasn’t a cure. That she’d experienced agony unlike most. But rather than believing the story of her having come out of that so good and innocent that she only consumed dying souls. He now believed she’d grown resentful. Not caring to prove that she wasn’t what she’d been told her whole life. A demon in every sense of the word.

He slowly stepped towards her, placing both hands on top of hers, and gripped them firmly. The tingling of electricity coursed from his palms and into her nervous system. At first, she’d only feel a slight sensation. But as the seconds passed the voltage increased and the pain worsened. Not quite to where she’d have difficulty breathing but until her muscles started to contract. “I’ll make you talk no matter the means. I’ll let you rot here for as long it takes.” Because he could. Because… what was one demon in comparison to all the souls they consumed. Because it was what his father would want, to fight evil beings like her. They didn’t contribute to a better world. And hence they weren’t worth much to keep around. “And all you can do is hope that he is on his way to rescue you. I know I am.” A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth before he removed his hands from her and relieved her from the pain.

The way she deliberately ignored his words did little to change his mind about her or how the situation would play out. All it did was aggravate him. Because how could she care so little about others if she had told the truth a year ago? It wasn’t that he didn’t understand the reaction. He’d been in thousands of situations where he’d stared ahead without answering his enemies. But to him, it only confirmed that she was guilty of his accusations.
The harm inflicted on her scarcely caused a reaction. He could tell that it affected her, so there was no evident immunity, but she clearly wasn’t a stranger to pain. The demonstration wasn’t meant to hurt her tremendously, however. All he’d wanted to convey was that he had no problem hurting her if she continued to defy him. He straightened his back as he looked down at her, subtly raising his brow when she laughed. Not comprehending what she found so amusing. It could of course be part of her act. Something she wanted him to believe to judge these efforts a lost cause. But he didn’t buy it. Surely there had to be care involved—if not from her husband, then from her. Otherwise, he didn’t see why she couldn’t betray him. “Is that why he married you?” he asked, wondering what he possibly could have gained from that if not love. It might have been for the sake of possession or a result of their family’s matchmaking, but that still didn’t explain why they had remained together.

Her continuous laughter put emphasis on how much of a joke she thought it to be. Whether she was acting or not, he couldn’t tell. But it didn’t exactly reinforce his hope regarding it. Nor would it matter much if she just handed him the information he asked for. If he received anything that would help weaken the demon’s safety measures, he’d be able to find him regardless of where he’d gone. He tilted his head slightly as he surveyed her face. She had to be aware that he'd go pretty far if it meant keeping people safe from men like him. Although he had a personal incentive for pursuing this demon, it didn’t change the fact that he wished the world could be cleansed from such evil altogether.
When her eyes returned to the focus point behind him, at the decorative stone carvings or rough walls, he turned to walk back to the altar. “When was the last time you were in contact with him?” The timeline of his disappearance was still fairly unknown. All they really knew was when Elenora and some of the motel’s employees last had seen him. He uncovered the items from the grey cloth and picked up a syringe that he filled with holy water. “Do you know if he’s left Gaia?” he asked, trying to be less specific in his questioning to see if it would give her more incentive to say something regarding the topic.

He held the syringe between his index finger and thumb, turned the needle upwards, and sprayed a few drops into the air. Tempting as it was to throw holy water at her, it would only burn momentarily. And it usually served best as a distraction or minor injury, much like biblical words or holy objects did. However, injecting the noxious water would cause the discomfort to linger for longer and hurt more severely.
Since they’d both made it clear where they stood, he saw no other way than to get information out of her this way. As much as she thought she didn’t owe him anything, he certainly didn’t owe her to be merciful. Not when she risked lives by refusing to help. He approached the trap once more and looked expectantly at her. Hoping she would give him something to work with. But when she spoke, she instead expressed that she had a question of her own. He remained patient and listened to her, albeit not making much sense of it. If this had turned out differently, how? She’d somehow felt willing to help? He didn’t believe it for a second. And even if he did, how did saying so do anything to help the current situation? Sure, she might be able to evoke feelings of guilt if it wasn’t because he already drowned in it. It wouldn’t change anything. His responsibilities had always outweighed any emotion. He needed to go through with his for reasons greater than whatever selfish one she presumably tried to get at. “You make it sound as if there ever was a scenario where you’d help me.” He took a step closer and sighed silently. “But if that was true. If you genuinely saw a reason for doing good by helping me, you would regardless of position.” He glanced down at her wrists which were chained to the armrests of the chair. She would have shown a willingness to cooperate, and he would have taken that as a sign of her being different from the rest. He’d demanded answers of her history with this demon all the same. Some explanation that could justify the change she’d experienced since. But she’d given him absolutely no reason to believe she wasn’t covering up for him.

I have nothing to give to you now.
As if the sentence was the finite conclusion to all of it, she leaned back and closed her eyes. He lifted his free hand to snap his fingers in front of her face, causing a sharp blitz of blinding light. Near enough for her to feel the unpleasant warmth on her skin. “I beg to differ.” He lowered the hand to grab the edge of her sleeve and pulled it up to expose the bare skin on her arm. “You just revealed that you have something to give me.” She had indicated that she knew where he was or at least that she was able to help find him. So, if there ever had been the slightest doubt of this, it was gone now. He pressed the tip of the needle against her skin and pushed the sanctified liquid into her. Shortly thereafter he extracted the needle and moved his gaze to watch her reaction. “Where is he?” he demanded. This was the kind of information he wanted most of all. Even if she didn’t know where he’d gone precisely, he was convinced she’d have a few qualified guesses.

He noticed the slight changes in her, though it was clear that she didn’t want to give him any signs of weakness. She remained silent and resolute in her decision to defy him. Enduring the consequential suffering instead. Another sharp blitz illuminated the room in hopes of making her flinch. “Where is he!” he repeated, his voice reverberating loudly in the hollow chapel. He grabbed both of her arms firmly, pressing his thumb against the injection point to further aggravate her pain. “Tell me how he stays hidden.” He didn’t think she fully grasped the seriousness of the situation, of how on edge he already was because of this. Of how he time and time again had seen loved ones suffer at the hands of demons. He sent another wave of electricity through her from their points of contact, adding to the immense stress her body was under. If he could cause just enough of that, he was sure she’d give in and tell him something. Anything to make it stop. “Tell me who is helping him.” If she indeed was innocent, then the least she could do was point him towards someone who wasn’t.
Her persisting silence was exasperating. But he knew she’d reach her breaking point eventually. There was always a point where they did, whether it be out of excruciating pain or sheer exhaustion. He let go of her arm, realizing how hot his hands were when they revealed two red imprints on her skin. He cooled them off with a brief shake and turned around to return to the altar.

The torture went on for a couple of hours. He gave her a few more injections with holy water and shocks of electricity. Then shifted to stabbing her abdomen with a holy blade dipped in salt, which ended with him carving a cross down her back. In between it all, he’d offer her every chance to stop it by talking. The simple threat of those methods was usually enough to make a demon talk but she didn’t once break her silence. At dawn, he left her to her own devices in the underground chapel. Another angel entered the room shortly thereafter with the sole purpose of ensuring the demon stayed where she was.


Calvin was worried at this point. Not that worry was something he felt on behalf of other people, but Elena had never been just that. He’d always worried about the life she’d moved on to have after him. If she’d gotten herself into something worse or come out of it better. But beyond the worry he felt for where she was and why she didn’t reply to his messages, he felt worried for himself. Despite the life he lived, he’d never been in this kind of danger. The kind where there was no other option but to run and hide. It didn't matter if he'd planned it all out to the smallest detail because with the current target on his head a minor mistake could end with his demise. He needed Elena to respond to him to secure a few last details in his escape out of the country. He was supposed to have left at midnight with her help. After a dozen missed calls and texts he’d gone over to her place, banged on her door for a ridiculous thirty minutes before eventually giving up on her responding that night.

In the morning he’d called on a witch and gotten her to perform a tracking spell to figure out where she was. The trace stopped at an old mine in the middle of England, which he figured meant she was in trouble. There was no other explanation for this sudden cutoff. He then got her to create a portal to the nearest village, making sure he appeared invisible for the occasion, not knowing what to expect. It wasn’t until he reached the mine that he got an idea of the kind of trouble she was in. The presence of angels made it a lot worse than anticipated and his first thought was to back out. If his illusions slipped up or someone had an ability to see through them, they were going to kill him. But knowing she was in there, he just couldn’t. Odds were he was the reason. So, he created an illusion of a rock falling from a nearby cliff that was sure to at least make the angels look towards it if they weren’t immune to his power. A brief test before he stepped anywhere near them himself. Both guards glanced towards it, only slightly alarmed by the noise, but as soon as they discovered what it was, they resumed their straightforward gazes.

He managed to sneak in unnoticed, warily following the illuminated path in the mine as he scanned the tunnel for traps. However, nothing could have prepared him from the feeling he got once he stepped inside the chapel. A sudden pang of nausea and discomfort overcame him. He placed a hand on his stomach as he forced himself to defy his instincts and venture further, discovering another angel by the wall and a person sitting in a chair near the altar. He froze for a moment, knowing he had to deal with the angel somehow. He assumed that they knew about his power, so he didn’t think he could trick him into leaving the room, but they probably didn’t realize how good he was at controlling his illusions and hence that he didn’t have to cause any distraction. It just required a bit more of his power to hide what he was about to do.

He stopped as an invisible force hindered him from nearing her and glanced to the floor. He hadn’t noticed the devil’s trap before due to the pool of blood partially covering it. He crouched down to unfasten the hidden knife from his shin and cut a line through the trap to break it. After that, he walked in front of her, for the first time getting a real glimpse of her injuries. He inhaled sharply at the sight. Not so much because he thought the damage was bad or difficult to look at. He was so used to violence that it didn’t faze him. But it was knowing she only was here because of him that bothered him. That someone else caused her pain because of something he’d done. It was the whole reason he’d left her the first time.
He inhaled again, this time to compose himself. Losing his grip around his powers now would become detrimental for both of them. He glanced at the angel, checking that he still was unaware of his presence before he made himself appear visible to her alone. Causing a sort of veil between them so he’d only see the picture of her as it was prior to Calvin’s arrival. A finger was raised to his lips, telling her that she had to stay quiet. Moving her was going to hurt, but unless he could predict every time she’d make a noise, she was going to blow their cover.

He untied her and lifted her into his arms before he carried her outside. The illusionary veil conveyed a trapped demon to the angel inside the chapel for the entirety of their escape and he attempted his best to upkeep it as they continued through the forest towards the village, despite how much it was draining him. It was first when they stepped through the hidden portal that he let go of his illusions. They arrived at his temporary residence; a secluded cabin in the forest. He placed her on the couch in the living area and then momentarily left the room to fetch a vial of vampire blood that he’d packed for the journey. “Drink this.” He took off the cap and placed it against her lower lip. It was the only thing he had to alleviate her pain and speed up the healing.

He could have gone through with it without her. Her role wasn’t essential to his escape. But it somehow felt that way. That if he just had her support, it would all turn out okay. And then there was the concern that something had jeopardized his plan. A concern that easily would have been overlooked if it wasn’t for the fact that his life was at stake. It wasn’t like him to be unsure about his abilities, but for once, there was a little voice of doubt inside of him. And she was the only one capable of quieting it down. “I was going to. But then you didn’t answer me, and at the very least, I needed that. I was worried it meant something had gotten in the way of the plan,” he explained, though he wasn’t very keen on admitting that his worries had gotten the better of him. Even if it had led him to her, and thus had a good reason for existing. It still didn’t change the fact that he hated the feeling and wished he could turn it off.
Missing out on a goodbye hadn’t stopped him in the past, so it wasn’t that. It was just that he’d never been in this kind of situation before and frankly these past weeks had been extremely stressful. Much more so after that witch managed to escape him. Something that never would have happened in the past. He closed the vial and placed it on the table behind him before he looked back at her, chuckling dryly at her comment. “I know.” He then breathed out and looked around the cabin he’d been forced to take refuge in. A stark contrast to his luxurious manor. In hindsight, he should have never targeted the girl. But how could he have known that she had two archangels and a siphoner for a rescue team? The chances of that were near impossible. And then it wouldn’t have mattered if he'd simply taken her soul and left her in a ditch somewhere. They’d wanted to go after him all the same. It wasn’t easy being a demon, needing to feed on people just to survive, yet being punished for it. Of course, they could say much about the kind of guy he was and how he obtained his souls, but that was how his family had learned to survive through the years. It wasn’t any less wrong than the people murdering demons simply because they were supernatural.

“I’m sorry they did this to you.” His gaze wandered down her face to the burn marks on her arms and the massive stain of blood on her shirt. It wasn’t said out of empathy so much as it was him feeling at fault for her pain. But the apologizing was new to her; coming from him it was as genuine as it was rare. He had always avoided the word. Every time he was wrong, he’d instead focus on why she was wrong or deflect the situation from it, rarely ever owning up to his own actions. It was all a game of manipulation, control, and power to him. It wasn’t the kind of husband he’d wanted to be or what he imagined their life would look like when he first met her. But he didn’t exactly have the best idea of what a good husband was, nor what a normal life should be. And he’d come to terms with the fact that he probably never would. That such a life never had been in the cards for him.

“Did you tell them anything?” he asked, thinking that she had to have said something. Despite how things were right now, he believed part of her still hated him. That she’d give in under that kind of pressure. And he needed to know what she’d revealed, so he could adjust for that in his plan. Even though she needed more time to recover and still had to be in pain despite the relief of the vampire blood, this couldn’t wait. Not when it was so crucial to his survival.

He couldn’t blame her for not believing him. He’d told her countless lies in the past, so what made this time differently? And what was he even sorry for? He knew he shouldn’t be. The plan hadn’t been ruined and he was perfectly safe. And even if he told her the truth, she’d not believe that either. Because if it was about her misery, then why hadn’t he stepped up and done something about it in the past? If he truly cared about her happiness, he would have. But it was much more complicated than that. He leaned back and turned his gaze to the windows where rain was beating melodically. If he had looked her up, he'd wanted to go see her, and that was only going to make things worse for both of them. He returned his eyes to her, not knowing when these thoughts had planted roots inside his mind. These feelings. This weakness.

No. He straightened his posture, confused because he was certain she’d told them something. But maybe she’d handed them lies to buy time. Or maybe she'd stayed silent. It would explain the severity of the harm they’d inflicted on her. It wasn’t the simple prodding and poking of someone needing a little push. It was the kind that originated in anger and impatience of none of those usual techniques working out. “How much did they know?” he asked, thinking that would at least give him the upper hand over the angels. Shortly after she'd gotten up, he raised himself to his feet and neared her in the kitchen. He glanced at her hands as she stood by the sink, supposedly trying to get some water running. But it would be to no avail. This place had long since worked as a regular home for anyone. He stepped towards a pantry that he opened to grab a lukewarm water bottle. “I’ve delayed everything for twelve hours.” He pulled a white handkerchief out of his suit’s front pocket and poured part of the water on it before he handed it to her. It was shortly after dawn now, which meant they had a few hours until he’d take off. First by a timed portal that’d transport him to the harbor, and from there by boat to France.
He slouched against the countertop next to her, his gaze fixed in front of him. “How did they get to you?” It was something that was important for him to know in case they had any intention of capturing him before sending him to hell. Any predictability was most welcome. He didn’t think they’d attempt to catch her again. If they truly hadn’t gotten anything out of her, there was no reason for them to keep pursuing the matter. Not when the world was filled with more pressing issues.

“Hm,” he murmured, a shadow of a smile passing his lips. Only because there wasn’t much to smile about, but it did feel good to know your efforts hadn’t been completely futile. For his identity to have stayed out of their sights. He supposed he had his past to thank for that—to successfully have avoided treading on any angel toes. Alas, sooner or later, they were bound to put a target on his back. That was the price of being a demon. For safety reasons, there were a lot of things he hadn’t disclosed to any uninvolving parties, which also meant that unless she’d been directly involved in creating his false passport, she’d not know of his alias either. Nor would she have an idea of where he’d be in the world. Everything past the first stop in Normandy would remain a secret. The rest of her information wasn’t that surprising. The records of their marriage were easily accessible, though he must admit, he hadn’t expected the angels to stoop so low. To be so desperate in their search of him.

He placed the bottle with the remaining water on the counter next to the sink, watching as she cleaned the blood from her hands. He inhaled deeply when she said she had no idea how they got to her, unsettled by the reality. Had it just been a brief distraction or mistake on her part, that would be one thing, but to first know when you were actively stalked meant they’d already found a way to get to her. He didn’t think twice about the fact that she’d led them away from their meeting point. In his head, she’d never rat him out like that. But then she said something that swiftly flipped that assumption. He turned his head to look at her. Under different circumstances, he’d confronted her about it—especially the part about talking to this angel. He’d tell her that he’d been feeding her lies and that no matter what, they’d never view demons even remotely as equals. And he’d get angry about her consideration to stab him in the back on such accounts, to angels of all people. But he didn’t. Because in the end, he agreed with the bottom line. “I wish more people would realize that.” The angels were no better than his kind. But to call them worse? He couldn’t argue against that. Besides, he didn’t want them to leave on a bad note because deep down he needed this. Her presence and support. It felt like one of the only things he had left after everything he’d lost. “Did you get any additional intel? Any weak spots or powers I should know about?” He knew that he was in deep, so even though what happened to her was bad, he at least hoped she’d gotten something useful out of it. Some beneficial information, at best. He didn’t know much of any of the archangels, and what he’d heard might as well be rumors. There were far too many scriptures and tales about them to know the truth for certain. Not unless you’d been close enough to see that truth for yourself.

She wanted a divorce. He tightened his lips before pulling them apart, about to respond when she shot a harsher statement through the air. He chuckled dryly and moved his gaze to the beating rain. He could only laugh about it at this point. At how swiftly everything came crashing down on him. All because of a singular stupid decision. “About that.” He turned his gaze back to her. “I have a stash underneath the rug in my dining room. Get rid of everything in it.” It was the only part of his fortune that hadn’t been washed clean, and although he usually tried to keep stuff like that outside of his residence, it was hard to keep up with the high demand in Southside. And if she wanted to stay out of trouble, she’d be wise to dispose of it once news of his death had arrived. “Do with everything else as you’d like.” Her name had been written on his will since the day of their wedding and since the thought of death never had crossed his mind, he hadn’t bothered to change it. Nor did he really mind her access to his inheritance. She’d undoubtedly put it to better use than the majority of his family.

He straightened himself as she answered his question, attentive to the information that might help his survival. He had already suspected that the human had been close to the archangel. There was no way they would go through all that trouble to save someone if they weren’t. Much less put a lot of resources into finding the perpetrator. There were so many in need. So many people they could save at once rather than focus on individuals. And there were people who’d murdered far more than him, people with agendas that posed a far greater threat than his own. He nodded as he let the information seep in. If the archangel was driven by emotion, that certainly could be a good sign. But he also had to consider that he was an ancient warrior who’d banished his own family for God. The initial motive didn’t matter much if he was as cutthroat as the tales told. Electricity didn’t seem like the most harmful ability so he should be able to get around that fairly easily. But if he could manipulate it in all senses, that meant he had to be careful about speaking around any electrical devices, in case he could channel himself through such systems for intel. His eyes lowered to the burn marks, the bright red skin beneath her sleeves. He had been punished with electro-shock therapy once. His father had gotten this new theory of it changing a person’s cognition. But if anything, it had felt much more destructive than mending. Causing memory loss as he remembered it.

He pushed himself away from the counter when she moved to the couch, recognizing the signs of anguish in her. He wished he could make it disappear, that he somehow could take it back and leave her out of it. He had been the one who was supposed to be in that chair. The one deserving the torture she’d endured. “How’ve things been since our last meeting?” In other words, he wanted to know how her organization had taken off. How well she had settled in Gaia and if she intended to stay. He sat down on the couch next to her, hoping she’d lean into the conversation. Anything to lead away from the reality he’d found himself in. Anything to distract her from her pain.

He looked at her without the usual spark of arrogance or playfulness in his eyes. He hated seeing her like this. Hated all of it. At that moment it was impossible for him to pretend that he didn’t. “Only too well.” He then raised a hand to feel a lock of her hair between his fingers, slightly hardened by some dried blood. He didn’t understand the tense feeling in his chest, but it made him let go and lower his hand on the backrest. Not welcoming the strange feeling on top of everything else. 
Careless was an exaggeration. No demon could background check every victim. And this one had walked straight into his den despite its ominous, haunted atmosphere. To him, that made her part to blame. “Believe me, I wish I could bribe them with something and be over with it. But they clearly won’t listen to reason when they’ve got their minds set on something.” Her meeting with the archangel only proved that fact. It was a story told by many demons. Murder was often the go-to solution whenever they dealt with their adversaries, and if they saw someone as their enemy, they usually cared little for the means used so long as it got them to the end objective. “As in more stuff has happened around us?” he asked, wondering what she meant by this brewing storm. If it had anything to do with the darkness within her, making her able to sense such things, or if it merely was a feeling. But if she knew something he didn’t, he had to know about it. To be honest, he didn’t pay much attention to anything that didn’t regard him. And the war between demons and angels seemed as present as it’d ever been. Calvin’s interest was simply to do the things he wanted to without their spotlight shining down on him. And for so long, he’d been able to do just that.

“I’m going to miss you.” In a way, this felt like the goodbye he’d never gotten. Even if this one undoubtedly was easier said than the last. Even if she didn’t care what happened to him. But with the likely prospect of him dying, now wasn’t the time to be prideful or dishonest. And the truth was ever since he’d left New York, he’d missed her and the moments they'd shared. He had yet to meet someone who brought him that kind of oblivious happiness. His gaze turned to the fireplace where embers glowed from an earlier fire. Calvin didn’t think he’d ever get to see her again. But if he by some chance did, he hoped they could still keep in touch after the divorce. If not for any other reason than to have each other's backs when they needed it. It was the least he owed her for helping him now.

It often seemed as if time stood still when it was just the two of them. And before he’d anticipated it the door to the cottage opened. Instantly returning him to reality. His gaze moved to the woman in the doorway, looking her up and down. The valkyrie had a very powerful presence. And as much as he felt drawn to it, he also sensed the warning it carried, knowing he had to be careful around her. After all, her boss was the whole reason he had gotten this deal. The last thing he wanted was to do anything to jeopardize that. “Of course,” he replied with a small tilt of his head. He got up from the couch to retrieve his suitcase from the adjacent bedroom. Truth was, it took a lot of him to convince himself he was ready to leave most of his life behind him. Looking at that new identity on his passport made it especially difficult. His pride couldn’t quite grasp the fact that he had to do this. But deep down, his survival meant more than anything. His desire to stay out of Hell was stronger. He knew the price of freedom was small compared to what he’d be doing there.

He returned to the living area shortly after, looking at Eris for what might very well be the last time. “Take care, darling.” And with those words, he left to go with Rogue. He’d placed the suitcase in the trunk and sat down in the passenger seat of the car. Once they moved through the forest, he kept quiet and stared at the rain on the windshield. He ran a hand through his partly wet hair, wondering just what this new place would be like. If he’d indeed receive what he’d been promised, or if there were some unknown catch. On the surface, the deal had been too good to be true. His first offspring in exchange for complete protection from the angels, from being allowed to run his underground operations and experiment on subjects. If he didn’t know any better, they had to want more of him. “Will there be others like me there?” he asked as he turned his gaze to the dark-haired valkyrie. At least then, he might get more of his questions answered. Getting an idea of what future might await him.