The Sinner by Emma Scott

Three

Night had fallen and there was a demon in my kitchen eating cereal.

I sat at the window at my tiny desk, crammed full of second thoughts. I hugged my elbows, not moving or daring to take my eyes off Casziel. He sat slumped at the island that served as my dining table, scarfing down spoonful after spoonful of cornflakes. A light breeze could shove him over, but sooner or later, he was going to regain his full strength. His powers, whatever those might be.

Be brave. This is your house.

I uncurled from the chair and forced myself into the kitchen to pour a glass of water. I leaned against the counter, facing my houseguest. Even unceremoniously shoving cereal in his mouth, he was ungodly beautiful.

Ungodly being the operative word.

“How long’s it been since you’ve eaten?” I asked, watching Casziel pile cornflakes on his spoon, spilling milk on the sleeve of Dad’s coat.

“Fifty years,” he said. “Give or take ten minutes.”

“What does that mean?”

No answer. I cleared my throat.

“You must be hungry if it’s been fifty years.”

“I don’t need to eat.” Casziel scoffed as if the idea were beneath him. “I don’t need to drink. I don’t need to sleep. There is nothing on This Side that I need.” He raised his eyes to mine. “Except you.”

A shiver danced down my spine and it wasn’t unpleasant. No one had ever needed me before. Certainly not a man who looked like Casziel…

A few moments passed where the only sounds were the demon noisily finishing off his bowl of cornflakes and pouring another, his third.

“I feel you watching me, Lucy Dennings,” he said, not looking up.

“Well, gee, I only have about a million questions.”

Like what had I gotten myself into or if I were being epically duped.

Of course, you are, piped up that sneering voice. Silly Lucy, you think you’re special? Do you actually believe this strange man, who you let into your home, is a penitent demon trying to save his soul?

Casziel lifted his head, eyes narrowing. “Be silent, Deb.”

“Deb?”

“One of your demons,” Casziel said, going back to his food. “Nasty one, too.”

A wave of goosebumps washed over my arms and down my back. “One of my demons? How many do I have?”

“Just two.”

“Just?”

“Two is nothing. Had you more, I might not have found you.”

He found me.

Somehow, the idea didn’t scare me as much as I thought it should. Not as much as havingtwo demons.

“The demon’s name is Deb?”

“And the other is K,” Casziel said. “Best to leave it at that. Demons love hearing their true names in the mouths of humans and will often come when called.”

“Jesus,” I shivered. “What do they do to me? I mean…why are they mine?”

“Not yours alone,” Casziel said. “They’re two of the most powerful in our ranks. Deb is Pestilence. Like an infectious disease. She contaminates humans and keeps them from fulfilling their true potential. K, the Smiter, wracks them with fear if they try anyway.”

“That’s…horrible.”

Casziel shrugged. “That’s their job. Sin. Vice. Immorality. Laziness. What you call ‘deadly sins’ are our stocks-in-trade.”

“What is your stock-in-trade?” I asked, not sure I wanted to hear the answer.

“Wrath.”

He said it flatly, with no pride or arrogance but no remorse either. My gaze traced his scars that peeked above the collar of the trench coat. The dream whispered of bloody stones and screams, then faded again.

“Have you ever…killed anyone?”

“In life, yes,” Casziel said. “I was a warrior.”

“You were human? With the feathered wings, I thought maybe you were a…fallen angel.”

It sounded just as crazy to say it out loud as it did in my mind.

He shook his head, his eyes darkening. “No, I had a life, once. A long time ago. I was a commander of armies. Now, my armies do not wield swords; we incite battle among humans. We fuel the rage in men’s hearts. The wrath.”

“You don’t sound very sad about it.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” he said and went back to his cereal, leaving me to glance over my shoulders for “Deb” and “K.”

How many times had I heard their whispers? The ones that told me to keep my ideas for removing plastic out of our oceans to myself because surely someone smarter and cleverer than me was already on it. Or how, when Jana Gill asked me to go out with the gang after work, I always declined for fear of embarrassing myself. Or how, when I worked up the courage to talk to Guy Baker, the whispers would start that there was nothing Silly Lucy could say he’d want to hear.

“That’s what demons do?” I asked after a minute, anger tightening my voice. “Keep humans down? Send us to war or make us feel crappy about ourselves?”

“Demons can’t make you do anything,” Casziel said. “We insinuate. Influence. Cajole. We stoke the fires of your sloth, or wrath, or jealousy, then feed off it. Whether or not you act on our insinuations is entirely up to you, though you rarely believe that. Our greatest victory was convincing humans they have no control over their reaction to adversity.” He tapped his chin. “Asmodeus earned himself a promotion for that one.”

This is a dream. I’m going to wake up. Any second now…

I took a long pull of cold water. “Are there many demons on This Side?”

“Not many. Perhaps a few thousand at any given moment.”

“Thousand?”

“We are legion,” he said. “And you’re out of cornflakes.”

“I’ll put it on my list,” I murmured as Casziel wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and slipped off the stool to wander my living area.

He tapped his long fingers on my window. “Does this unlock?”

“Yes, but…”

He pushed it open.

“I only leave it cracked in the summer,” I said, reaching to shut it again. “It’s not safe—”

“None dare hurt you. Not while I’m here.”

The casual menace in his voice sent another tingle down my spine. I’d never had a man—or reasonable facsimile thereof—vow to protect me like that. As if, under his watch, my safety was a forgone conclusion.

It felt good.

Casziel carried his inspection of my tiny studio into the sleeping area, leaning to peer at the photo on my nightstand. My dad and me at Coney Island when I was ten.

“Ah, so he smiles,” Casziel muttered. “I was beginning to wonder if he were only capable of disapproving grimaces.”

“Dad’s here right now?”

“Yes and no. Here is a relative term.”

“I thought you said—”

Casziel flapped a hand irritably as he perused my bookshelf that was crammed full. “He’s always here and he’s also somewhere else. Everywhere and nowhere.” He cocked his head, listening, then scoffed. “I beg to differ.”

“He’s talking to you now?”

“He says I’m being vague on purpose. As if it were that easy to explain the nature of the cosmos to a puny human brain for which ‘truth’ is only that which the senses perceive.”

“That’s a little harsh,” I said. “Plenty of people have faith.”

Casziel snorted. “On the surface. On their knees once a week, if that.”

“You have a dim view of humanity.” I crossed my arms. “It’s hardly fair to incite humans to war and hate, to whisper in our ears that we’re not good enough or drive us to temptation and then get all judgy about it.”

Casziel shrugged. “I’m a demon. I never professed to be fair.”

I rolled my eyes and picked up the photo of my father and me. Both of us grinning. Both of us carefree and full of joy. No demons there.

“He’s an angel now,” I murmured, tracing his face.

“Playing a harp whilst gliding past pearly gates on a fluffy white cloud?” Casziel mused. He ran a finger along a row of romance novels on my shelf. “Heaven’s gates or the fires of hell. Divine or infernal. Angel or demon. Everything is black and white for you humans when there are a thousand shades of gray.” He pulled a book off the shelf, an eyebrow arched. “More than fifty.”

“Okay, then what’s it like?”

“The Other Side?” He shrugged and dropped the book on the floor and moved on with his inspection of my place. “You can’t comprehend it and I’d rather not drive you to insanity trying to explain.”

“Gee, thanks,” I muttered and returned the book to its home on the shelf as Casziel poked his head into my tiny bathroom.

“I’ve known monks with more worldly possessions than you, Lucy Dennings.”

I lifted one shoulder. “It’s all I need.”

He gestured at my shelves. “You need all those books? Mostly romantic fiction, I notice.”

“And poetry. I love poetry and romance.” I smiled self-consciously. “I’m a sucker for beautiful words.”

Casziel sniffed. “Those beautiful words are your substitute for the real thing.”

“I…that isn’t true.”

“Is it not true?” He stretched his long body out on my too-small couch. “One stool at the counter. One chair at the desk. I’m shocked that your bed is large enough for two.”

I tugged at the collar of my sweater, my face growing hot. “This place doesn’t have room for more furniture. And not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t have company over all that often.”

Or ever, Silly Lucy.

Casziel shrugged and reached for the TV remote on the coffee table and started flipping through channels. “Can we get pizza?”

I snatched the remote out of his hands and shut off the TV.

“Oh sure, let’s get pizza. As soon as you tell me what I’m supposed to do. Help you not be a demon?”

He fixed his eyes on me. “My redemption lies with you, Lucy Dennings. You’re the expert on living for others, always bending over backwards, often at your own expense.”

“I don’t do that,” I said in a small voice.

“You’d give the shirt off your back, as the saying goes, even if you only had one shirt.”

“That’s…not true.”

“Agree to disagree.”

I hunched deeper into my sweater, an ugly, nervous feeling coiling in my guts like a snake. The enormity of what I was being asked to do and believe was too much. Demons or not, the voices in my head were right—I was gullible and silly and always willing to see the best in people, even when they were obviously toying with me.

“This conversation is making me ill,” I said. “I was crazy to let you in. For all I know this is a lie, and you’re here to…hurt me.”

Casziel’s lazy smirk vanished. “I told you, I would never hurt you.”

“You told me but what is the word of a demon? And how am I supposed to help you? You’ve committed God knows how many atrocities—”

“God knows,” Casziel said, his voice low. “To the last drop of blood spilled, God knows.”

I shivered. “This was a mistake. I think you should leave.”

The demon sat up, head bowed, his hands hanging off his knees. “Forgive me, Lucy born of light. It’s been nearly four thousand years since I last put myself at the mercy of a human’s generosity.” He looked up at me, his expression strangely soft. “I vowed to never…”

“What?”

He looked away. “Nothing.”

Pain hung over him, weighing him down like a second coat. Or a suit of armor grown too heavy. Against my will, my heart softened toward him, but he was right. I did bend over backwards for others, and sometimes—most times, if I were being honest—it left me feeling as though I’d been taken advantage of.

I crossed my arms. “How can I trust you?”

“Your own father assured you that you can.”

“And if you’re lying about him too?”

“You asked earlier if he were here, and my answer was…inadequate.” Casziel winced, annoyed. “Fine. It was rude and dismissive. Better?”

Despite everything, I smiled. I could almost see Dad standing over Casziel, hands on his hips, scolding him. Almost. As much as I wanted to believe, there was no one there.

“The hardest part of losing someone is thinking they’re gone forever,” I said. “You know in your heart that’s not true but the little voices of doubt whisper what if it is?”

Casziel nodded, then cocked his head, listening. When he spoke, his tone was gentler than I’d ever heard it.

“He asks me to remind you of your youth. How you would do your homework at the dining room table while he cooked dinner in the kitchen in your house in Milfred.”

“Milford.” Tears filled my eyes. “I remember.”

I could see it as if it were yesterday. Dad banging around in the kitchen of our cozy house, the scent of pot roast or spaghetti sauce in the air. Me in pigtails at the table, my papers strewn all over but organized. I was an A student, always striving to do my best. To make Dad proud, even if he never demanded more of me than I could give.

“If you needed help with an equation or had a question,” Casziel said, “he’d come in from the kitchen to help, then go back when you didn’t need help anymore.”

I nodded, my voice a whisper. “Yes. That’s what he did.”

“It is so now. He’s always here, Lucy. He’s just in the next room. And if you need him, he will come.”

The tears spilled over now. I smiled through them, feeling as if a weight had been lightened. It wasn’t gone; it would never lift completely, but for the first time in six months, I felt like I could breathe again.

“Thank you, Casziel.”

I hadn’t said his name before. Probably my imagination, but it felt as if the air between us had shifted. A shimmer, like the blurred air above a fire, wavered between us, then vanished.

“And I’ll help you,” I said. “I don’t know how or where to even start. But…I’ll try.”

Casziel’s eyes widened as they met mine. “My thanks, Lucy Dennings,” he said softly. Then his irritated scowl returned, as if he’d remembered to put it back on. “Now can we get pizza?”

I ordered pizza for my demon and curled on my bed while he watched television from the couch. Eventually, my eyes grew heavy; the events of the day and every wild emotion in it had left me drained. I began to doze, listening to Casziel’s running commentary on whatever he was watching—he laughed derisively or muttered in that strange language of his. A language that sounded unearthed from a tomb—dusty and guttural and not heard by living ears in centuries.

I drifted to sleep and dreamed of a woman

 

standing in the field, her back to me, her black hair braided in a thick rope down to her waist. She wears a shapeless wool dress, belted above the hip. Her skin is bronzed, and silver bracelets with blue stones slide down her arm as she shields her eyes from the setting sun. In the distance, a city of low mud-brick buildings sits against the banks of a river.

I follow her line of sight and can just make out a procession of soldiers marching into the city. The faint sounds of cheering crowds emanate from under horns bleating in triumph.

The woman lets out a little cry of joy, and my heart jumps too. She hikes up her skirts and runs toward the city…