Yeah.

When I woke up and found Christophe missing, I felt betrayed. He'd - He'd promised. Fucking promised he'd never leave me. My fists curled in the sheets and I prepared to burn something, anything.

I couldn't believe he was gone.

Now, years later, I know better. I know that my brother had kidnapped him, messed with his mind and dragged him down to Hell. I know that Christophe would never willingly leave my side.

He loves me. He says it when we go on our silly, mundane dates, when we masquerade as normal humans. He says it after missions as I'm healing his wounds and telling him how much I worry about him. He tells me every morning with eyes still crusted from sleep.

I mean, I always have to say it first. But that's how our relationship has always been. I push, and eventually he gives.

I know there are some things he regrets. I don't let him go on the more dangerous missions the way he used to before he met me. I can't bear the thought of anything hurting him. I know he misses his human friends, but I couldn't let that goddamn mercenary near him anymore, not when he kept trying to tear Chris away from me.

I know deep down he wanted to grow old, have kids, retire, maybe. He's lucky I've kept him mortal, that I've merely slowed his aging to a crawl to match with mine. He's lucky.

He doesn't get how lenient I am sometimes. That I even let him leave whatever apartment we're staying in. I get so sick and nervous when he's not with me. He's the only one who I can trust, only one I can care about. I need him so badly.

He's lucky I don't beat him blue for his backtalk. He's just a human, a fucking human. I shouldn't let him get away with talking to the prince of Hell like that. He's lucky I hit him only a little bit.

He's lucky I let him say no. (Sometimes.)

It's only because I know he loves me. He's proved it to me a thousand times over. Somehow, somehow I got lucky. I found someone willing to put up with me. For all my bullshit, for all the . . .

horrible, horrible things I do to him-

I mean. I mean. He's just a human.

He loves me back. He has to. He promised. He wouldn't go back on that, wouldn't lie to me about that, would he?

unless he was trying to keep himself sane by giving into me-

He promised. Christophe promised. He's never going to leave me. He's going to be mine forever and ever and ever, and he's never going to leave-

and we all know he does ugly, ugly things when he's desperate

-because Christophe loves me.

Right?

Where was I? Oh yeah, I'd woken up, and he wasn't there.

I stumble around the apartment, running into shit in the darkness before remembering I'm a demon and lighting a fireball in my hand. Living with humans so much, casually blending in, makes me forget that I don't have to act like them.

"Chris," I rasp, even though I know it's hopeless. The only heart beating in the house is my own.

"Chris."

I give up and go downstairs to more darkness. 5:03 in the morning by the yellow electronic kitchen clock. Christophe's shovel is on the ground near the door.

I look at it for a few seconds. Frown. Rub my eyes. Part of my brain starts to make the connection that something is wrong.

Then the zombies burst through the front door.

I yell, jerk back. The zombies rush towards me, hands stretched out, making sobbing noises. I burn them to ash in less than a second. I'm still staggering, and I hit the kitchen counters, slide down to stare at the pile of ash.

"What the fuck," I say aloud.

Like, seriously.

What the fuck.

What the actual fucking fuck.

I manage to close my mouth. The zombies threw the door off its hinges when they crashed in. Now I can hear the chaos outside. Screams, cars honking.

I poke my head outside cautiously to find myself in the middle of the zombie apocalypse.

No, no, that can't be right. There are people pushing through the streets, and even though those people are emaciated and gray and unintelligible, making moaning, sobbing sounds, they still have heartbeats.

A riot?

No, I decide as another zombie attacks me, not a riot.

Unfortunately, I incinerated the guy before I have a chance to ask him any questions. I step back into the house to catch my breath and consider my options.

On one hand, this is South Park.

On the other hand, this is fucking South Park.

I look back outside. Civilians are running, screaming. Some are trying to get into their cars, but they're invariably swamped and attacked. Curiously, the zombies don't appear to be going for their brains. They bite at arms, legs, beating the humans into submission before wandering off and leaving the sometimes-still-living victims on the pavement.

I realize all of the zombies smell like demon blood.

And they're all the addicts I've seen shuffling around the city in the last few months.

This is probably my brother's fault. I groan, rub my eyes, and start trying to put the door back on its hinges so I can go back to bed.

Unfortunately, the zombies seem to have other ideas. One of them points to me from across the street and groans, guttural.

"It's him."

"Shit." I give up on the door and run back up the stairs, hoping they'll forget about me if they can't see me. No such luck. I hear zombie footsteps pounding up my stairs. Aren't they supposed to shamble, or something?

I shut the door to my bedroom so I have a second to think while the zombies – Drinkers- pound on the other side.

"Get him!" someone is sobbing. "It's him. It's him. Get him!"

"Fucking shit," I growl, digging claws into the wood to keep the door from sliding open. I close my eyes, think.

They want me for some reason. What?

The answer comes to me within seconds. They're attacking civilians, drawing blood, but not taking anything when they realize they're human, not demon.

All the drinkers in the city are simultaneously going through withdrawal. My brother cut off the supply.

That still doesn't explain the craziness, although I supposed he could have cast some kind of spell to amplify their need. Hopefully, it should subside at dawn, when our power wanes with the sunlight. Until then, thousands of people are going crazy looking for another fix, and with my brother down in hell, my blood is the closest substitute.

"Calm down!" I yell through the door. "I don't want to hurt you!" I really don't. It'd be like drowning kittens.

"Please," they're sobbing. "Please- give me-"

I groan, leave the door, sprinting for the window. Then break in, falling over themselves, waves and waves of drinkers reaching desperately for me. I'm already out the window.

Black wings snap from my back. I almost crash at first. It's been a couple years since I last flew and I'm rusty. The wind catches me, swoops me up, and I find an air current to coast on and survey the town from a few hundred feet above it.

There are fires rolling up, and I can hear the screams even up here. Car alarms pulse through my skull. I fold my wings, dive, land on a roof of a ten-story building, staggering, feathers fluttering to adjust.

The car alarms and screaming are kind of giving me a headache, actually. I make plans to blow town, stop, realizing that I still have no fucking clue where Christophe is.

My skin crawls. My brain spits up images of him hearing noise, going out to investigate, getting attacked and ground into guts on the pavement for smelling like me.

No. No. That doesn't make sense. That's not possible. His shovel was still at my house. He wouldn't go anywhere outside without it.

His clothes were still there, I realize, thinking back to stumbling through my bedroom.

Where the fuck would he go without his shovel and his clothes?

I can't think logically. I somehow cross off Noah kidnapping him – there were no signs of a struggle and I would have sense Noah's presence, anyway – and come to the conclusion that he must have gone outside to call Gregory and tell him he was sleeping over and that's when the zombies had attacked him.

I panic. I fly through the streets, almost close enough for the zombies to reach up at me and beg me. I yell his name. The still-sane pedestrians scream and cower when they the angel of death flying by.

I don't find him.

Day seeps up from under the horizon line. The zombies start to collapse, falling to the cement. The national guard hasn't showed up. I'm not surprised. This is fucking South Park, after all. If there was any police resistance they've long since given up.

The remaining sane humans run from town. At least, the ones who can walk. Plenty are too wounded to move, or hiding in their homes. I don't care. None of them are Christophe. I have techniques to find him, things that I would have used on him should he have dared tried to run from me, but none of them are working, which means he's dead.

I land atop a trashed car, fold my wings again, put my head in hands, consider giving up.

"I suppose this is your fault," a mild British accent says.

I look up. Gregory has just turned a street corner, and now that he sees me he's stopped. He leans against his bloodied sword and takes a long draw on his cigarette.

"Actually, it isn't," I say. "Where the fuck is Christophe?"

He narrows his eyes, stands up straight.

"I thought you knew where he was. Why don't you know where he is?"

The bitterness normally would have given me some satisfaction. I hate Gregory. He and Chris fucked in the past, I swear to god. "I don't know, Brit. I've been looking. Looking. Haven't found him."

"Well. Well, then." He rakes his fingers through his hair, with is covered in grime and more blood. "How are the Drinkers rioting possibly not your fault?"

"My brother," I say, and I guess I have to explain it to him, too. When I'm finished, he looks even angrier.

"You knew where the blood source was coming from, you could have stopped it the whole time, yet you continued to let innocents die for some blasted power play -"

"My brother is a sick fuck," I interrupt, "and yes, whatever he's done to hurt these people is because he's trying to get to me, but do not fool yourself into thinking that I give a damn, human."

He sucks in air through gritted teeth.

"Christophe wouldn't want you to think that," he says.

"Like I care what Christophe thinks, either," I say, rolling my eyes. "He's just a human, too. Just something for me to play with."

"Ah," Gregory says. "That's why you've been searching for him for hours."

I stand on the roof of the car, towering over him. Both of us glower at each other for a few seconds, then release simultaneous strained breaths.

"Look," he says. "These things appear to be mostly done-"

"It's only for the day," I say, trying to sound bored. "They're gonna get up again as soon as night falls."

He makes a pained expression. "Well. We'll deal with that when it passes. For now, we appear to have a mutual interest, finding Christophe. It could be he's just-"

"Fucked off to whatever he does when he's avoiding life?" I suggest.

His lips purse. "Yes. That's a possibility. Although the fact that you couldn't find him is concerning. Regardless, the two of us arguing isn't going to help, despite the fact that-"

I despise you is left hanging in the air.

"I trust that you have his best interests in heart," he grinds out. "Thus, if you intend to keep searching for him, me and my friends would be willing to help you."

"Why the fuck would I need your help?" I sneer, jumping down from the car, ruffling my wings to make my point.

"I forgot, since you've been so successful finding him on your own," he sneers back. I glower. He crosses his arms.

"I need to keep combing the streets for people who need assistance getting to the hospital. I will join you at my apartment within an hour, and we can discuss search methods. Sound reasonable?"

"Peachy," I say sarcastically. "Have fun with your little hero mission." I head off in the opposite direction of his apartment, and hear him sigh.

I don't need his goddamn help. I'm a demon. I can't find Christophe on my own.

I send out another search for him within my head, something that's tied in to smell and taste. His code, in my head, is tied to the smell of cigarettes, and when the smell burns in my mouth, it takes a second to process. My stomach drops. He's –

Joy hits. I start sprinting, blindly. I don't call out for Gregory. I don't question the sudden appearance. I just turn the corner, already starting to cry his name.

"Nuh-uh-uh-uh," Noah laughs out, waving his hand. "It's not that easy, big bro."

Christophe is standing behind him.

Besides looking slightly confused, nothing's changed since I last saw him a few hours ago. No extra cuts or bruises. He's even wearing the same sweatpants he passed out in.

"Christophe," I say, and he doesn't look at me.

I clench my fists, start forward, yelling, "What did you do to him you little bitch-" But Noah stops me by sliding further in front of Christophe.

The threat is clear. It would be so easy, after all. Humans are so fragile.

"What did you do to him," I repeat, jamming my hands in my pocket and forcing myself to relax my shoulders. I hate how obvious I am. How he knows Christophe's my weak spot and he knows how he can exploit it.

"I didn't do anything," he says. "It's all what Christophe did to himself."

I glare, start to step forward again. Then I catch the smell.

It's hard to pick out Christophe under the incessant reek of my brother, but he's there. And mixed with him, contaminating him is-

"You bastard!" I scream. "You knew he was mine! You knew he was mine and you-"

"I didn't do anything," he says coldly. "Don't act stupid, Damien. You know how the blood works. You can't make anyone drink it or it doesn't do anything. They have to take it of their own free will."

My knuckles whiten.

"You coerced him into doing it, or threatened him, or-"

"I thought you were in love, brother," he says, smirking. "I thought you knew Christophe better than that."

My voice finally manages to even out. "What did you do to him."

"I didn't have to do anything. He willingly drank my blood, to get away from you. You see, to Christophe you're a violent rapist. He doesn't want to have anything to do with you. He only pretends to go along with it so you won't hurt him anymore. Isn't that right, Chris?"

Christophe shifts uncomfortably. "Oui."

"You're lying," I say, because I don't have anything else. "Shut the fuck up, Noah, and give him back to me, or I'll-"

"He came to me. Last night after you raped him-"

"I didn't-"

"He came to me to get away from you. And so I obliged, and helped him make sure father wouldn't send him back to you."

I suck in air, close my eyes. "What do you want, Noah."

He smiles.

"I could never just kill you. That would go over terribly in court. They think I'm sweet and innocent, just trying to defend myself."

"Bullshit. Not even demons are that stupid."

"Turns out they are." He laughs. "But not stupid enough to believe the act after I kill a hermit like you. No, I need you to give it up."

"Give what up?"

"Your claim to father's throne."

I glance at Christophe. His gaze doesn't meet mine.

"You know I don't give a damn about politics and I've never wanted to rule. Take the goddamn throne."

"Not good enough," he says. "I'm not stupid enough to think you'll never come after me-"

"I won't, if you give Christophe back-" I start to growl.

He purses his lips. "We have all millennia, brother dearest. Time doesn't pass the same for us but it does wear. I have no idea who you'll be in five hundred years. You'll probably have worn out your infatuation with the human world, driven this one mad. I can't risk it. I have a solution."

Christophe still hasn't said anything. He's in the same pair of sweatpants he was wearing last night, and he's just standing there, shivering.

I can't believe he drank the demon blood.

I can't believe he was so afraid of me that-

No, Noah was lying. I've been good to him over the last few weeks. I've only threatened to kill him a few times.

"What's your solution?" I growl.

The smugness in his expression makes me want to snap out and kill him.

"You have father drain away your powers. Turn you into a human."

Cold runs over my skin.

"That's not possible."

"Oh, it is." His red eyes are laughing. "You'll age normally and require the same things humans do and you'd loose all your strength. I know right now you have no plans for world domination, and you adore humans. This option wouldn't be crippling to you. And I would finally leave you alone."

"I'm not afraid of you, even with our sisters." I bare my teeth. "I'd never."

He reaches out and curls an arm around Christophe's waist. Christophe shifts uncomfortably but says nothing.

"I'd be afraid, if I were you-"

"Don't touch him!-" I start forward, and Noah holds up his hands.

"I'd be more careful, too. Wouldn't want to scare Christophe even more. Otherwise he'll never come back. Isn't that right?"

"Oui," Christophe says, and then he cries out "Don't trust him, Damien, he's lying, he's going to kill everyone-"

Christophe stops, and the expression on his face transforms back from fear to vague discomfort, but it's enough.

I stalk towards them, fists clenching and unclenching.

"Like Hell he came to you willingly."

"Think on my offer." Noah holds up his hands. "Think about what all your promises are really worth, anyway."

Then the two of them vanish.

A vaguely familiar woman opens the door after a couple knocks. She has blood tangled in her hair, but otherwise looks bored. Her eyes narrow when she focuses on me.

I stare at her, trying to figure out where I've seen her before. She stares back, blatantly going over me.

"Uh," I say. "I think this must be the wrong address." Even though it isn't.

"No, no, I think you're at exactly the right place." She steps back to let me in. "Gregory called just before you rang to say he'll be home in a few. He's still being the good Samaritan. You're Damien, right?"

The way she says my name is a warning. I'm jittery from stress, though, and can't concentrate on anything other than Noah has Christophe.

Noah has Christophe and I can't do anything about it.

That's a lie.

She leads me into the kitchen and offers me a coffee. I shake my head, terse. Then a man similar looking enough to be her twin walks in. He does a double take and shoots me three times in the chest.

The impact sends me stumbling back at the counters. I stare down in surprise at the blood staining my shirt.

"Hai!" the woman cries. "He might know something! We can't shoot them until we know if they know something!"

"It's the one who's been beating and raping Christophe," the man protests. "Oh, damn it, he's healing anyways. See, it's fine."

I rub the spot over my heart, wiling it to restart. The bullets begin to ooze from my body. "What the fuck," I say.

The man points his gun at my torso again, but he only gets one shot in this time before I react, lunging towards him, flames rising in my fingers.

Then the woman snags me and uses my momentum to throw me to the ground. My head bangs into takes me a second to process what happened, and by the time I've regained my senses, she's sitting on top of me and has a gun pressed between my eyes.

"I'll just regenerate," I say calmly.

"True," she says, "but if I know anything about demons, a headshot takes a while, and it hurts."

I keep my voice calm. "What do you want?"

"Promise not to kill my brother and I'll let you up."

I nod. She pulls back and I regain my footing, hands held up innocently. I retreat back to my spot in the corner of the kitchen, hands still up. Hai is glaring.

"You've seen Christophe," he snarls. "You've heard his nightmares. We can't just-"

"Shut up," the woman says, and falls silent.

I'm starting to remember these two. I saw them in the shadows here one night when I carried an exhausted Christophe home. Are they 'business associates' of his? Do mercenaries have an equivalent?

The silence continues, so thick and heavy that I have to fidget. Someone's going to start shooting again. Fortunately, Gregory arrives less than a minute later. He's smeared with blood, probably belonging to someone else. He sees me backed into the counter, Hai with his gun out and his sister defensively in front of him, and sighs.

"Damien," he says politely. "I was afraid you wouldn't show up."

"Yeah, well." I gesture at the siblings.

"They're friends of ours." He crosses over to stand next to him. "I think the worst of the zombie outbreak is over, until nightfall."

"That's when Noah'll bring them out again," I say. "He's using them to distract me. That's probably how he got away with grabbing Chris."

Gregory's eyes narrow. "So where is Christophe now?"

"I dunno. Probably Hell or something."

I don't realize the other way this line could be taken until after he's smashed the butt of his handgun into my face.

I hold my hands up as my skull crunches back together, open my mouth but can't explain because of my broken jaw. He hits me again, kicks me, and I crumple to the tiled floor.

He keeps slamming the butt of his gun into my face, and he's screaming, I've never seen him loose his cool before, not like this, and after a few more hits I can't see anything at all.

"You fucking bastard-" He's screaming, and

"You promised, you promised-"

"How can you just walk in here like you don't care, you said-"

And he's sobbing now and I make a garbling noise as I try to protest but he smashes parts of me until I can't even process words or sensations, and I feel Hai and his sister haul Gregory off me but I can't explain still because parts of my head aren't working right,

and my healing ability kicks in and I can hear Gregory sobbing again, swearing and promising to kill me, fucking kill me, and then the pain hits and I start to scream as my body processes that it's been torn apart, and

I start to see again and he's lunging towards me, breaking free of the others' grasps, and I manage to roll over to avoid his outstretched hands, and I garble out, "he's – he's not – he's not-"

Gregory grabs me by my hair and slams my head back against the tiles. He raises his fist in preparation to crush my skull again.

"Christophe's not dead."

Hai tackles Gregory, knocking him off me. I try to raise but his sister kicks me back down, plants a boot on my chest, and points a gun between my eyes.

"Explain," she says quietly.

I crack my jaw and close my eyes. The pain fades as the bones knot back into place, and I can formulate sentences again.

"I didn't mean it like that. I didn't mean it like he was dead. I swear. Hell is just where my brother took him."

"Your brother," the sister says quietly. "Fuck."

"Can I sit up? I promise not to retaliate."

She draws back. I sit up, rubbing my head. Hai has released Gregory, who's taking deep breaths and staring at the floor.

I close my eyes again, suck in air. These are just humans. I shouldn't have to explain myself to them.

But I need Christophe back.

I tell them about the fight for my father's favor, to be the sole heir of hell.

I tell them how I took Christophe to hell last night to confront Noah. I tell them he slept over at my house last night. I leave out what we really did. I don't think Gregory, with his narrowed, reddened eyes and his shaking shoulders, needs to hear that.

"The Drinkers have just been a trap. The whole time, he's been building up a trap. Something to drive me to desperation," I conclude after I tell them about Noah confronting me this morning.

"They were infecting this city long before we moved here," Gregory says. "He can't have known that he'd be able to use Christophe to get to you like this."

"No. But-" I look away. "He knows that I like this. That I like acting human. And he's putting pressure on me to make it permanent."

Gregory stands, inhales, exhales through his nose. "I should not have assaulted you like that," he says, tight, clipped. "I misjudged the situation. I thought you'd had some hand in Christophe's demise."

I shrug. "It's my fault he's been captured."

Gregory inhales again. I can tell he's still angry, probably at me as much as Noah, but he holds out his hand anyway to help me rise to my feet.

"Don't worry about taking him up on his offer," he says.

"I wasn't planning to," I say.

"Even if he is planning to murder you after you become human, we will protect you."

I blink. "What."

He frowns. "That's why you didn't agree immediately, correct? You thought he would kill you out of some petty revenge once you were defenseless."

"I wasn't – I –" I stumble over the words, thrown. "I wasn't going to become human."

His eyes narrow. The sister steps forward.

"Daiyu, relax," he tells her. "Relax."

"Don't attack him again," she warns. "There's already enough blood on the floor."

He holds his hand up, refocuses his attention on me.

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't become human. That's absurd. Even if it weren't impossible, I wouldn't do it."

He tilts his head slightly. "Why not? You have said yourself that you don't wish to take the throne. You prefer living with humans. You have the contacts and income to make your lifestyle incredibly wealthy. What's the issue?"

"Noah would-"

"We told you, we would protect you."

"Why the hell would you do that? I'm not stupid. You all despise me." I shrug. "For good reason, too."

He exhales.

"I'm not stupid. I know you hit him. I've seen the bruises." His eyes are darkening. "You're an abusive, sadistic cunt and you get away with it because you're a demon. We hate you because you use your strength and magical abilities to manipulate Christophe, emotionally, physically and sexually. You have nothing else on him. He is a world-class fighter otherwise and would have nothing to fear from you without your supernatural advantage. If you gave up your abilities, you would give up your advantage over him. You would no longer pose a threat to him. And if you did this willingly, this would mean you no longer wanted to pose a threat to him. You would be equals. I can never forgive you, but I can see-" He pauses. "Christophe has already started to bend. If he saw you giving up this strength over him, he might eventually begin to trust you. And if you gave up your supernatural abilities to get him back, then the three of us would owe you a debt for saving our friend's life. We would protect you from Noah."

"You wouldn't – he's too strong- " My mind struggles to process everything he's said.

"I can assure you, all of us have killed our own share of demons before. In addition, think how he'd look in the eyes of the demon court if you killed you while you were defenseless. He's made it this far by keeping a good PR, and I doubt he'd try to destroy that. This would save South Park, and probably the whole world from the threat the Drinkers pose." He looks me over, and his lip curls. "This isn't about you being afraid of him, though."

I glower back at him, but the force of his disgust is too strong.

"You don't want to give up the hold you have over Chris. You're afraid. You know that if you can't force him to stay with you than he'd leave."

"I've been good," I say. "I haven't-"

"You hit him," he says. "You're probably right. I was wrong, he'll never trust you."

He laughs hoarsely. I clench my fists, wanting to burn this goddamn human's face off.

"It doesn't matter," he says. "We can take the Drinkers without your help. We can rescue Christophe without your help. We don't need you."

"Shut up," I snarl, flames forming in my right hand. I grab him by the neck with my left, shoving him back against the wall. He kicks and fights but I clench harder, cutting off his air supply. Daiyu and Hai start forward and I let the flames billow in my right hand to hold them back.

"If we're going to work together," I say coldly, "then I won't be taking any insolence from a human."

I drop him to the floor. He rubs his throat, gasping.

"And that," he says in between pants, "is exactly why Christophe will never trust you."

I punch the wall instead of his face, leaving a hole.

"I need to think. Don't bother me."

It's almost noon. In six hours the Drinkers will rise again. There are helicopters from news stations in the air, fire trucks and police officers trying to bring order to the panicked chaos. In six hours half of them will be attacking the others, searching for the blood Noah's denied them.

I sit outside the apartment, smoke, grind out my cigarette, put my face in my hands.

Christophe said he'd never leave me last night. He promised.

He was afraid and he smelled like alcohol but he promised.

He wanted to be with me. He'd started to trust me. Right? Right?

Gregory said he'd started to trust me.

It was okay. I can trust him, too. That's how a relationship works. He understands why I hit him sometimes, that it's only because he challenges me or makes me mad.

It's okay. Right? Right?

He'd consented. I hadn't –

emotionally and physically and sexually manipulated him, scared him into taking every step he could to protect himself, I'd threatened that the deal was off, that'd I do whatever I wanted to him, he was scared and he didn't know what else to do, he was scared to death, Christophe-

does ugly, ugly things when he's desperate-

he was scared, he didn't want-

didn't want –

raped-

I throw up everything in my stomach, gagging in the alley behind their apartment complex, and I'm shaking and part of me finally, finally accepts the truly terrible things I've done, just because I was, I was scared of being alone, so scared that I'd take anything I could-

No. No. It can't be true. He hadn't – He'd been willing – he promised he'd never leave me –

promised –

If I'm so sure that – it was consensual, he agreed I swear he did I didn't- then why can't I give up my abilities? Why can't I give up the advantage I have over him? He knows that I don't want it to be like this. That I wish I'd never used my supernatural strength over him in the first place.

It's because I'm afraid. Afraid that I haven't changed and he knows it.

so goddamn afraid-

I throw up again.

"Noah's controlling Christophe somehow," I tell them when I get back into the apartment.

They're bent over piles of maps, the siblings writing down words in notebooks while Gregory types on a laptop. When I enter, they stay silent, waiting for me to say my piece.

"When I encountered them earlier today, Christophe gave every appearance of wanting to be with Noah, away from me, even though I know he hates Noah for poisoning South Park with his blood. Once, Christophe broke through and managed to tell me not to trust him, but then the enchantment or whatever it was took over him again. I don't know how Noah has control over him. I didn't feel any spells."

"Isn't it just the demon blood?" Gregory asks.

"I don't- I don't think - The victim has to willingly drink the blood for it to take effect. Noah can't have just poured it down his throat and have Christophe automatically be his willing slave. They can be coerced into drinking it." I freeze, thinking about it. If Noah threatened to kill him-

"Christophe would rather die," Gregory says. "He would never let anyone have that kind of control over him."

Christophe does ugly, ugly things when he's desperate-

I shut that thought down. The Christophe I know hit the me, the antichrist, over the head with the shovel when I kissed him at our first meeting. He would never be that desperate.

Gregory doesn't know what I know about Christophe, though. How Christophe killed someone for money once, when he was just a kid.

How Christophe might have slept with me last night just because I scared him into it.

No. No. Christophe is stronger than that. A month ago he refused to give into me. He compromised but he didn't give. He can't have changed that much in a month- I can't have changed him, scared him so much-

"You're right. It must be something else. Some other form of control. That's why I'm worried." I swallow. "I don't know what it is Noah has over Christophe, and I'm worried that it might make him not give him up."

Gregory's eyes narrow, so I continue, speaking too fast, words rushing together.

"I need to investigate. Make sure Noah hasn't tied Christophe to him in a way I can't reverse. Our meeting early made me think that Christophe has something he needs to tell me. I need to take to Christophe face to face, to make sure there isn't something else Noah has on him."

"You're just trying to get out of making a choice," Gregory snaps out. "You're trying to shift the blame to Noah, trying to hide the fact that you're afraid."

"Shut up! Just listen, okay? Just listen. I can't go down to Hell. It's too risky to show my face, have Noah take offence. He'd notice my presence and act against Christophe before it was too late. And it's not just him – everyone in hell sides with him. I have one person on my side, maybe." That's if Lilith still gives a damn about me. "I can't go down there myself. But I need to establish contact with Christophe, to make sure Noah doesn't have any other tricks up his sleeve."

"Ah," Gregory says. "You want me to go down to Hell in your place."

"Yes," I say.

"Sounds dangerous," Gregory says. "Fine. We'll do it." He glares at me. I step forward, glaring back just as intensely.

"If you do this, if you establish contact with Christophe and make sure Noah isn't hiding anything that could change this whole situation, then – then I'll do it. I'll agree to his deal. I'll become human."