Chapter 4

AÏDON'S POV;

“Must you be so loud?" Hints of agitation linger behind my words as I eye the skinwalker seated beside me, today he's decided to wear his human skin. A mass of dark hair lays atop his head in disarray, smoky orbs observing the scene playing out before us as he noisily slurps on his milkshake.

My presence in such gatherings is highly unlikely especially as I am neither demanded nor welcomed at such events, but seeing as the tiny devil was found in my territory, I - against my better judgment - am seemingly involved in the investigation process.

“Mathias." I snap, irritated by the loud noise.

He stops mid-sip and turns to me, wide eyes gleaming with mischief as he cocks his head to the side in mock confusion. "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

"You should be burning in the depths of Tartarus at this ungodly hour." At my comment, he grins and lifts a shoulder in a half shrug, unbothered with the glare digging into his skull. "As long as there's an abundance of dick then who's complaining."

My lips curl downwards, his jest not easing the tension in me by any chance. He dismisses me with a roll of his eyes.

Jutting the styrofoam cup, he points to the platform where sure enough the higher five are seated, long cloaks draped over their frames. My narrowed eyes follow the movement in the dark hall.

“If I'm being honest, I quite enjoy this much better than that shitty telenovela streaming right now."

I silently agree with him. It's not everyday you see the prestigious elders of hell in one place and in such disarray.

And it took the tampering of the natural order of the realms to elicit this reaction out of them. I smirk to myself, imagining the dreadful look on their faces when Lucifer finds out what has happened in her absence and confronts them about it.

The ten elders are all brothers (though not bound by blood), rumored to have pledged loyalty to Lucifer long before the angel was cast from heaven. Some demons say that they fought along side our master during the thousand year battle to overthrow The Almighty. Risking the loss of their ranks, powers and incurring banishment from heaven... All which was gotten in full payment in due time for their betrayal.

After the battle, when Lucifer was cast down to the forsaken and desolate earth, they were as well, including many others who had all stood by the beast. As compensation for their defeat and loss, they were offered eldership over the courts of hell. Gaining charge over the various divisions partly tasked with dealing with the journey of the damned souls, judgement and reincarnation.

Divided into two tiers based on their strengths and weaknesses.

The higher five— highly skilled in combat and war tactics, deadly demons said to possess outstanding powers.

And the lower five— the more diplomatic of the ten whose mind games put the best psychopaths to shame. Conniving and sly demon whose lying tongues and intelligence compensated for their lack in the other departments.

All ten brothers are seated on plush black chairs made to resemble thrones, starting from the first to the last, long cloaked fabric concealing their identity from all. A red mist similar to the one exude whenever I teleport clings to them, creating a dreary look.

The first court; judgment, is fairly large. With its dark interior, dark curtains draped from the high ceiling down to the shiny tiled floors. It is headed by the seventh known as Raj and the center for the judgment for all souls after they have departed the mortal realm. He's been said to be rather cold due to the harsh manner with which he runs the court and places judgment. But then, each brother is one and the same. The hall is long lengthwise, I can almost envision the souls striding past the open double barrel doors in thousands, chains clanking with every step as they approach his throne.

"Is she dead?" I hear one of the brothers further to the side question... One of the lower five I deduce.

A bald, dark skinned reaper who assists Raj in running the affairs of the court steps up, ancient ink inching up the rippling expanse of his shirtless back and over his shoulder blades and arms. In his hands is a scroll, clasped gingerly between both palms as he shakes his head in denial.

"Apparently not, sire. It seems the human was teleported to one of the middle realms. On further examination, the scribes have concluded that her mortal skin is indeed intact."

"Are there any theories pertaining to her unusual appearance here?" The fourth elder of the courts— Ryui demands, his voice low and husky, leaning against the armrest of his chair without a care in the world. He's always been the more nonchalant of the ten, nothing ever catching his attention for more than two minutes before he is back to his usual brooding state.

However, I believe the silent ones are always the deadliest.

"None." He then bows and presents the scroll with both palms laid open. With an affirmative nod from them, he trudges up the two staired platform and hands over the scroll to Ryui, then steps back.

Raj reads the details on the parchment, “reaper,” he calls out after a brief moment.

I rise to my feet.

“The human shall be under your custody… At least for the time being while we work to right whatever must have gone wrong. You are to keep a close eye on her and ensure she causes no harm during her stay.”

With each word that rolls past his tongue, the muscle in my jaw twitches and my fists clench. Abandon my duties to babysit a mere human… never!

“No.” I grit out.

A monotone voice drawls out, “it wasn't a request.”

•••

Red.

I see red.

It's in the tendrils of unruly mane which cascade down her back in waves. It's in the rouge blooming on her neck and gradually extending upwards to tint her tear stricken cheeks, in the flush warming the delicate contours of her supple lips.

She barrels in like a storm; her eyes —a harmonious interplay of earthy browns and lush greens— swirl with a weird mix of anger and trepidation. She catches herself before she falls and watches her surroundings unfold before her like the pages of an unfamiliar chapter, her gaze everywhere yet nowhere all at once.

My lips curve as I watch her from behind the shadows, my keen eyes soaking up her presence with quiet contemplation. In a way she reminds me of a wounded doe.

She tenses when she spots Matthias approaching her, staggering a few steps back. Matthias pauses at a respectful distance and lifts his arms above his head, offering her a warm smile.

“Who are you?” She attempts to sound firm, but I note the underlying tremble in her voice.

He speaks softly, “My name's Matthias.”

Silence.

He speaks after a beat passes, his dull gray eyes expectant, “you're supposed to tell me yours…”

“Gloria.”

A lie.

His left hand reaches into his pocket and emerges with a key, he inclines his head towards her cuffed hands, “that looks painful, I have a key though.” He waves the key.

My gaze shifts to her, watching in amusement she scans him from head to toe with a distrustful gaze until finally she yields and slowly turns around. Granting him permission to help her.

I sense her intention before she makes the move— her muscles tensing seconds before her head jerks back to hit Mathias square in the face. The skinwalker lets out a shriek as he stumbles back and cups his nose.

I tilt my head watching her take off. My fingers twitch with the need to catch the little doe but I decide against it, instead giving her a head start.

5

4

She makes it past the double barrel doors.

3

2

Mathias shoots me an exasperated look.

1

I release my hold on the shadows, extending them so they slither after her like dark vines on the floor and wrap around her ankles. She screams, the sound shrill as she thrashes against the hold of the shadows dragging her back into the room.

Leaning off the walls, I ease the shadows which cloak me from her mundane eyes. “That's enough,” I bellow, walking towards her in long strides.

Her eyes are blazing and body writhing against the constraints, “let go of me you creep!”

Matthias moves closer to me, whining under his breath, “she head-butted me. Please tell me my nose still looks perfect.”

I barely spare him a glance yet I assure him, “you're fine, Matt.” My attention is captured solely by the furious red-head, “you on the other hand, aren't.”