Sebastian Herring is a failure, a boy living alone with his cat, dog, and tea. Maybe even an occasional trip to the beach. His family and friends all thought he was clinically insane growing up, terrified at his talk of every pair of “Wings.” So he let it go. He became what the world wanted him to be. He became normal to those around him. The night a cooking experiment goes to disaster, he finds the truth. A tipsy-acting truth that slaps him pretty quickly. A demonic truth, you could say. "Sounds interesting!"
ife scares me. People scare me. The things I see scare me. And it has always been that way, for as long as I can remember. Something changed for me though, eleven years ago, when I finally realized no one else could see like me. No one else can see their wings. Just me.
I try to go on with my life like normal, and I’m getting so much more used to the way I have accepted it’s going to be from now on. I tried to tell people about things I see a long time ago, when I was so much you...
I scoop my cat, Maggie, off my lap and set her back down gently on my pillow. She nudges my hand and sniffs before curling up and tucking her nose under a paw. Then I force my lazy body up off the mattress and stumble out my room, where I immediately set up for a nice cup of tea. No, I’m not British. Enough with the stupid stereotyping.
So after I’ve finished a nice cup, dressed a little bit better, which consists of jeans, a T-shirt, and a beanie instead of sweatpants and f...
lipping through the ancient cookbook is a bit terrifying. I can’t cook, so all these lists of foreign foods is worrying me. Maybe I should just order takeout.
My eye catches something. A pie. I’ll order dinner, and make an easy dessert. Perfect. My mom loves pumpkin pies, so maybe that will put her in a much better mood. Let’s see where my cooking expedition takes me.
That thought was screwed from the beginning. Three hours later, my kitchen is a mess, Maggie ha...
ebastian! Don’t you dare hang up on—“
I fling the phone down angrily, slumping back on the couch. My dad exploded when I cancelled tonight’s plans. They were already on their way here, but I sure as hell couldn’t let them inside while Tuxie boy is here. Speak of the... demon, he’s wandering around my apartment, touching everything like he owns the place.
Maggie can’t stay away, rubbing against his legs and purring more than ever, w...
ane barks again. I sigh, rolling over in my bed, sweaty and disgruntled. The clock reads 3:27 a.m. Images keep flashing in my mind, red and terrifying, thoughts that leave a prickly feeling behind my temple. I haven’t been able to sleep, tossing and turning all night.
Maybe it’s the fact that there is a demon sleeping on my couch. Maybe it’s the fact that his eyes literally sparked after I asked him to find an angel. He flew off the handle and started yelling at me. Apparen...
Astileu (Two centuries ago)
nother strike sears across his scarred back,
eliciting a numbed, exhausted whimper from his dry, chapped lips as more blood drips down his back. The pain he’s mostly used to, but it still hurts, aiding his need for sleep. It’s been over a century since he has slept.
As he falters, his black, clawed hands plunged into the bed of white-hot metal and coals, another demon watching strikes him with the frayed whip. He closes his burning eyes and moves his fie...
look over at Astileu, now regretting ever making fun of him and calling him Tuxie. His voice is quiet as he finishes telling me what happened.
“But,” I start, confused, “if all that happened, shouldn’t you have some scars or something?”
Astileu swallows, then sighs. “You’re only seeing my healed human form. I’m hiding my true image,” he whispers, not meeting my eyes. I can practically feel his shame, and it honestly just hurts.&nbs...
e stop by a gas station minutes outside of Los Angeles, somehow getting Leo inside the bathroom without any people seeing him. I lock the door and hurry over to the sink, pulling out several paper towels. Leo sits down on the toilet heavily, his hands clasped in front of his body. I take the wet paper towels and hesitate a moment before kneeling down in front of him.
“C—can I?” I gesture awkwardly to his face, wondering if he’ll mind. Thankfully he just shrugs, his wh...