A cascade of raindrops pattered on the tile rooftop that adorned a drab house, the soft yet pronounced sound diverting all thought to it's presence. The lone occupant, a young man of twenty-one years old, stared blankly at the marks on his arms. Some still bled, while others had scarred into permanence long ago. The marks looked like elegant gibberish, but to his trained eye, told a haunting tale. The razor edged blade that had etched this tale lay on the table in front of him, thoroughly coated in his blood. He never felt the bite of the knife, nor the weakness in his legs as the blood left his body. He only felt the desire to be rid of the voices. The horrid voices.
The only way he had found to quiet them was to inscribe their bantering into his flesh. His hands drifted towards his throat, where a long ragged scar lay raised around his neck. He should be dead.
He had wanted to die.
He had tried to die.
But he couldn't.
The voices wouldn't let him.
His name was.... He had forgotten. He blinked confusedly for a moment. He knew it was here somewhere. He glanced at the wall and he could see it, carved into the sheetrock a thousand times. He had trouble focusing on it, his eyes twitching violently as he tried to hold onto a thread of his former self. He shut his eyes tight. He took a deep breath, feeling the icy bite in his lungs as he did. He focused on the cold and pushed the voices back into submission, if only for a moment. He opened his eyes and focused on one single name.
Adrian.
His name was Adrian.
For the first time in a long time, Adrian felt his heart beating. He started shaking. His heart beat faster and harder, almost painfully so.
The voices were breaking through again. Their cacophony of shouts was deafening.
Adrian couldn't hold them back. He had to let them free.
His heart stilled once more and he felt his consciousness fade as thousands of claws swallowed his psyche again.
He stood, following an almost robotic motion. He stepped towards the open window.
No. It wasn't open. It was broken. Blood had caked over the jagged edges. The rain was pouring in. Though by the look of the floor, it had rained through the window for quite some time. The floor sagged under the window, threatening to send Adrian through to the lower floor.

Adrian slowly reached a hand through the window, letting the rain rinse the blood from his arms. He could feel the dull ache as the jagged cuts continued to pulsate blood to the surface. He shut his eyes and leaned forward, ignoring the groaning wood beneath him. His eyes shot open as he felt the floor shift beneath him.
One voice screamed louder than the others, "MOVE ******!"
Adrian panicked and tried to step back, but it was too late. The rotten floor fell out from under him. As he fell, his forearm raked across the shattered glass in the window, one large shard piercing all the way through his arm. He hung there as the shard suspended him in place, screaming as he felt the razor edges tearing clean through his flesh. His vision went completely black for a moment as he faded in and out of consciousness. The screaming voices thundered in his ears and he felt tears streaming down his cheeks. The pain was unbelievable.
Just as he thought he might pass out from the pain, the shard snapped, leaving him to fall to the lower story. He landed on a splintered beam, the impact hard enough to break his wrist as he tried to break his fall. He collapsed, defeated. The voices demanded him to stand, but he ignored them. Adrian lay there, broken, bleeding, wishing more than ever for death to overtake him. He knew he should be dead. He could feel the long sliver of the splintered beam passing straight through his heart, yet he couldn't die.
He cried.
He just wanted this to be over.
Please.
He just wanted to die.
Adrian forced himself to stand, pushing against the beam. He cried out in agony as the shard piercing through his arm and the stake embedded in his chest both cut deeper.
Feeling weakness overtaking him, he took hold of the pane glass shard in his arm, yanking it out swiftly. A spray of blood spewed from his arm before quickly subsiding. He watched in panicked horror as his flesh began to knit itself back together. "No no no just **** me!!!"
He started to hyperventilate as he took hold of the stake with both hands and slowly pulled, feeling smaller splinters digging into his skin. His face contorted into an agonized grimace, letting out a pained gasp as the wood was freed from his chest. He threw the stake away from him, shaking violently.
His clutched his head in his hands as he fell to his knees. When would it end? How much longer would he have to endure?
The voices were quiet. Adrian looked around, still shaking, and realized where he was.
The lower floor.
He shouldn't be here.
The voices said to stay away.
The smell.
How long had these bodies been here?
Adrian stood slowly, seeing with newfound horror where he was. This was evil.  The grotesque, contorted bodies lay scattered haphazardly across the whole floor. Their decomposing flesh had attracted hordes of flies and other carrion creatures.
Adrian threw up.
It was too much.
Had he killed all of these people?
There must have been thirty.
Maybe more.
The taste of ***** brought him back to his senses and he quickly looked for an exit. This was the ground floor, there had to be a door.
He looked around, seeing nothing but the tormented faces of the deceased around him.
Wait.
No. Directly behind him.
It was just barely there.
A void in the corpses.
He sprinted to the opening. The voices told him to stop.
Adrian pushed them aside, focusing on escaping this hell. As he broke through the void, he felt a rush of cold air and he blinked. He was looking at a brick wall, but it wasn't from the building he had been stuck in. No this was... An alley.
Adrian looked behind him, expecting to see the corpse room, but to his surprise, there was nothing. Just another brick wall.
Free.
Finally free.
He hoped.
He sat against the wall and wept, both for joy and in fear.
What would happen to him now?
----------





Thunder shook the windows of a lone white sedan as it puttered to a halt at the side of the road. The sky was black over northern Washington, and the shadows beneath the towering pines cast a forbidding darkness in  all directions. The heaviest rain of the storm had just begun, and the wind rocked the car back and forth like a boat in a hurricane. Each drop of ice cold rain was like a bullet against the car.
Black smoke billowed from under the hood as the car met it's final resting place. From the back seat came a low groan of distress. "Stupid... *******..."
Lilya grimaced as she spoke. She was clutching her chest, covered in a blood soaked blouse. "This was... my favorite shirt..."
Lilya's sapphire eyes were shimmering with tears as she glanced out the window. "I guess we won't be making it to that doctor, huh?"
She was laying across the back seat, her head in the lap of her best friend, Soryn. He was stroking Lilya's raven hair, his fingers trembling. "We'll get there, Lil. It's not far."
Soryn's green eyes met hers and she gripped his hand. Her touch was ice cold. She pushed a lock of his blonde hair out of his face and whispered, "You're... A terrible liar, Ryn. Always were."
The front passenger door opened and Malyk stepped out into the freezing rain. His trimmed black hair was instantly soaked, along with his shirt and jeans. Malyk shivered and opened the hood, letting even more smoke rise into the air. He coughed violently as the stench of melting plastic and warped metal stabbed his lungs and mouth. He slammed the hood shut angrily, returning to his seat and closing the door.
Soryn's looked to him, but Malyk simply shook his head. They turned to see Ruby, the driver, gripping the steering wheel hard, her knuckles turning white.
"This is all my fault." Ruby's voice was shaky, as if she were about to cry. She looked at her bloodied hands and she couldn't hold it back anymore. "IT'S ALL MY FAULT!!" Thunder rocked the car again as she screamed, her firey red hair shaking with her body.
Tears streamed from Ruby's yellow eyes, pattering against her skirt. Malyk put a comforting hand on her shoulder, "You couldn't have known. Stop blaming yourself."
Lilya's breath had become more ragged and her skin was beginning to pale. Soryn whimpered, "We need to find help. Now."
Malyk nodded and his eyes snapped to the rear view mirror, where a glimpse of light shine in the darkness.
"Another car! We have a ride." Malyk scrambled out of the car, tossing his wet shirt to the floor board.
Soryn's eyes widened, "No no no, Malyk don't do what I think you're-...."
He was answered by screeching tires and the shrill screams of the other car's driver. Soryn and Ruby looked out into the darkness but could see no trace of Malyk, only the headlights of the vehicle behind them. Suddenly, Soryn's door opened and a shadowy hand gripped Lilya's, pulling her out of the car gently.
A raspy voice echoed, "Let's not waste time. Come on!" The shadowy figure ran to the stopped vehicle. There was a large blood spatter across its hood. Soryn and Ruby were close behind, being pelted by the icy rain as they ran. Soryn slid into the back seat, and the shadow figure laid Lilya across his lap. Soryn glanced at him, "You shouldn't have used your powers. It's dangerous."
Malyk growled, his face lit by a flash of lightning. A nasty row of fangs were accented by the brief fash, along with a pair of curling horns. His skin was shrouded in armored scales, splashed with blood and smoke. Malyk's forked tongue danced between his fangs as he spoke, "Losing her is even more dangerous. I'd say it's worth the risk."
Ruby revved the engine, "Hurry the **** up!"
Malyk ran to the passenger door, his beastly features already fading away. As soon as the door locked, Ruby floored the gas pedal, squealing the tires as she drove off.
The trees began racing by at breakneck speed, their destination still miles away. Soryn ran his fingers over Lilya's wound and she whimpered, biting back tears.
Soryn frowned, "The cut is really deep, and the infection is already setting in."
Malyk glanced at Ruby, who kept the pedal to the floor. "Two minutes, Soryn."
Lilya coughed, spraying her clothes and Soryn's cheek with more blood. "She may not have two minutes, Malyk."
Lilya smiled and whispered, "You worry too much, Ryn." She reached up to him and forced him to look at her, her eyes now a dim shadow of their former beauty.  "Soryn. I need you to promise me something."
Soryn shook his head, "No. None of this promise ****. You're making it through this."
She shut her eyes and ignored him, "If I don't, I want you to sacrifice me. Free yourselves."
Soryn gripped her hand tight. "No. You're going to make it. I won't let you die."
Ruby gripped the steering wheel tight, "Hold on!" She whipped the wheel around to the right, swinging the car wide down a muddy path. Soryn protected Lilya's as the car bucked and swerved.
Malyk swore as he hit his head on the door. "****, Ruby!"
Ruby snarled and ignored him, speeding down the driveway, blaring her horn as she saw a house atop a wooded hill. "There it is! The doctor should be inside."
The lights in the house came on as the commotion was heard. Ruby slammed on the brakes and brought the car skidding to a halt at the front door. Soryn lifted Lilya effortlessly, cradling her like a child. Lilya weakly clung to Soryn's shirt, panting softly. She looked absentmindedly at the house, laughing softly. "This place... I remember this place."
Lilya's body began to shake as she fought for control of her own mind. Her eyes dilated and the whites of her eyes turned a deep onyx color. "**** me... Please **** me... Don't let it out."
Her body was ice cold against Soryn's and he started to panic. She closed her eyes and he could see her reeling from an unseen battle raging in her mind.
Soryn walked up the creaking wooden steps and onto the covered porch. The door swung open and Soryn was greeted by a gun barrel swinging up towards his head. He flinched but held his ground. The gun wielder was a young woman, in her late twenties, clad only in her silk robe. She had the eyes of someone without fear. Soryn cleared his throat, "We need help. Our friend..."
He glanced down at Lilya, who was barely holding on to him. "Our friend is dying."
The woman glanced at Lilya, a spark of recognition in her eyes. She lowered her gun to her side and gestured for Soryn to bring Lilya inside. Malyk and Ruby remained outside out of respect for the stranger's privacy. Ruby sat next to the door while Malyk paced back and forth along the porch.
The decor inside was quaint, but the furnishings had a modern functionality, like two worlds lived in this one house. Soryn had no time to admire the scene as he clutched the seemingly lifeless form of his friend. The woman walked to the basement door, flipping the light switch to the dark stairway. The tungsten lights buzzed to life, casting a blinding glare on everything. Soryn  blinked and let his eyes adjust before continuing  down the flight of stairs. The cold stone bit into his heels, but he couldn't worry about that. Soryn followed the silk-clad woman down to a large room that looked extremely out of place, like it should have been in a  hospital instead of a basement. Once inside, Soryn saw a polished operating table and surgical tools beneath a bright dome light. Soryn swallowed hard and lay Lilya on the table gently. The woman tied her blonde hair back in a ponytail and shrugged her shoulders, letting her robe fall to the floor. Soryn's heart skipped a beat as he looked at her exposed form. Her body was supple and each curve was exquisitely defined, with symmetrical tattoos like tiger stripes on either side of her stomach, legs, and arms.
Something about her confidence and finesse intrigued him. She was the kind of girl that most men would **** to have one night with.
Then it dawned on him. She looked exactly like Lilya. He could feel his cheeks flush at the thought of them. The woman glanced at him and he looked down at the table, flushing completely. She smirked, "If you want to stare at my **** go ahead. If I wasn't okay with it I wouldn't have you down here."
Soryn cleared his throat, his gaze automatically drifting towards her chest before he shook himself. "Sorry, doc. It's just, you remind me of someone else."
He thought he could hear her mutter, "I wonder who."
Whatever insecurity she had was hidden, as she went straight to work on Lilya. Soryn stood at one side of the table, while the woman stood on the other.
Her hands moved swiftly, expertly, focused on mending the dying girl. The woman's hand slid under the table, only  to return with a pair of surgical shears. Starting at the collar of the blouse, the doctor began cutting away. Soon the fabric fell away, followed by Lilya's bra, shorts and *******.
Lilya's clothes were now non-existent, and Soryn blushed as he looked at his naked friend, feeling an all too familiar urge. How many times had he wished to caress her most intimate parts, to feel her warm cleft around him.
Lilya's body was covered in serpentine tattoos, the ink scales winding over her limbs and torso. Soryn's favorite part was a scaly tail that wrapped around her leg. Oh how he had longed to trace the tail up to it's base.
His mind drifted to his fantasies of making love to her and his heart started racing. He bit his tongue. No. Now was not the time to be ogling her. He berated himself for being so selfish. She was near death and all he could think of in the moment was how he wanted to **** her.
The doctor broke the silence with two accusatory words, "What happened?"
Soryn's heart sank, "Lilya and Ruby were looking for someone, and when they tried to sum-..." He trailed off, suddenly feeling more naked than she was. How did he know he could trust her? Ruby obviously knew about her but not much.
The woman rolled her eyes. Her voice was sultry, airy even, as she retorted, "Yes, she tried to summon a Seeker. What happened?"
Soryn's mouth moved to form words, but he couldn't force them out. This doctor knew of his kind. Well enough to know that Lilya was a Bound Soul.
The woman slammed a fist into the table, jarring him, "Spit it out, ******, I need to know so I don't e

“Welcome,” the Devil said, smiling.

An unclothed man of pale skin and toned muscles stood feet away from a teenage boy with black, ashy, hair. The boy was wearing a simple outfit; white linen with black buttons, dark pants. Confidently, the boy stepped forward. Inches shorter than the still heavily breathing man, he put his hand on the strong shoulder and looked up into dark, untrusting eyes.

Hell wasn’t anything like Adrian thought it would be. He didn’t doubt it though, this was Hell alright. Whiteness was everywhere, almost blindingly bright. Exhausted from the fight, the shock of getting hit, the running and tumbling, he breathed loudly through his nose. His body was as it was on Earth. His scars, sweat and blood were all identical to how it was in the fight only minutes ago. There was a gaping hole about the width of his extended hand through his chest; his heart was mangled and torn but somehow still pumping.

“You died, Adrian. And God doesn’t care. He’s never cared.

“You probably think that your life on Earth was righteous enough to make it to Heaven, to meet God. And you’re right, really, you lived well. Your final moments alone should be enough to give you an ivory throne, but no. Nobody gets into Heaven.

“I’m sorry, Adrian.”

The Devil slid his hand down, off of Adrian’s shoulder and turned around. The fatigued in and out of the fighter’s breath was the only sound in the air.

“I’m feeling generous today,” Adrian could feel a cool gust of wind behind him. The boyish Devil walked forward and placed his hand onto the man’s chest. Slowly, he could feel the hole filling up; a numbing warmth filled his rib cage, a new vitality. “Have a good life, Adrian. Enjoy your gift.”

The Devil shoved Adrian backwards. He gasped.