Demon Angel

fingers, he slipped them into her mouth.
    " 'The blood is the life,'" he crooned, and then giggled.
    A scream built in her throat but she dared not release it. She kept her mind and expression carefully blank. He could do much worse than this— would do worse if he knew the extent of her fear.
    "I'm extremely displeased, Lilith," he said conversationally. "Are you a succubus? No. And yet you stood there: a whore with your mouth and legs open, begging for his sword. 'Kill me, kill me!'" He imitated her voice, his expression disgusted. "Where was the woman who, only two thousand years ago, sobbed so pathetically? 'I don't want to die!' You accepted my Gift—and let a Guardian take it without a fight?"
    His voice had been rising, each word a thundering shout. A second mouth opened above his eyebrows, its voice terrifyingly calm.
    "The same Guardian for whom you betrayed me before!"
    From his forehead, he said, " I try to imagine your reason for allowing him to Fall ."
    "This is the second time you've proved your worthlessness and ruined my plans."
    "You did not kill him, but perhaps your redemption lies in his humanity."
    "But you won't again, Lilith; there is no more room for your errors."
    " He would not have belonged to me, but as a human he will be fragile, susceptible — and he has shown his weakness: you ."
    "You no longer believe there is no light without darkness?"
    "My plans for him are ripe, but all the pieces are not yet in place."
    "I'll enjoy reminding you."
    "Until that time, I have another project in mind for you."
    Both pairs of lips smiled, and the mouths spoke together. "We will wait, Lilith. When the time comes, you will succeed where you failed before; his death will be yours to give, or your soul mine to keep. Have we a bargain?"
    No, no, please, no . But she couldn't respond; he sighed, grabbed her hair and rocked her head back and forth in a disjointed nod.
    "Wonderful!" he crowed. Reaching over her shoulder, he unfolded something from the ground and brought it to his lower mouth. The scent of it was both sickening and achingly familiar: Hugh's robe, soaked in her blood.
    Lucifer began sucking on the coarse fabric, and the mouth on his forehead said, " He buried you, did you realize that? Shedding tears all the while. Quite touching. He wrapped you in this thing and stuck you in the ground ." His cheeks puffed out as his mouth filled. " Did he think to give you peace? Foolish Guardian. There is enough blood here to reanimate you a thousand times over. And I don't even have to do the rest. You remember last time —" He made a slashing motion with his left hand, and Lilith whimpered.
    He grinned. "That's my girl. You've been a very good girl, haven't you? But that has to change: it's time to be bad again." Dropping the robe onto her chest, he leaned forward. Blood dribbled from his mouths. "Give Daddy a kiss."
    "Better now?"
    Even before she nodded and said she was, Hugh knew she would lie. Sighing, he helped her to her feet, then closed the toilet lid and flushed. There'd been nothing left in her stomach at the last, but she'd still heaved as if her body could purge whatever the nightmare had left in her.
    He knew the feeling well. Had recognized the terror and sickness when she'd bolted from the bed, her hand over her mouth. And though he'd known she'd hate him witnessing it— would consider it a weakness in herself—he'd remained with her, leaving only for a moment to collect pajama bottoms for himself and a covering for her. They'd been in the cramped, cold bathroom for almost an hour, silence between them but for his soothing murmurs when each bout of retching had taken her.
    She swayed. He steadied her, his hands on her waist. The thin flannel robe he'd placed over her shoulders slipped, and he tucked her arms through the sleeves, tied the sash.
    "Bulimia…" Her face was still pale, but as if to signify that she had finished vomiting, she reached up and pulled apart the messy braid Hugh had made to keep the hair from her face. "… is a necessary evil; I am too vain to gain an ounce."
    He smiled and wordlessly handed her his toothbrush.
    She met his gaze in the mirror as she scrubbed her teeth. Her eyes were dark and haunted, and his chest ached when she looked away. She spat and rinsed before carefully replacing the toothbrush in its container. Each movement was deliberate and precise, overly studied in its attempt at normalcy.
    His throat tightened; she seemed brittle, overwhelmed.