The Darkest Joy

The Darkest Joy

Copyright © October 2008, Dahlia Rose

Cover art by Anastasia
Rabiyah
© October 2008

Amira Press

Baltimore, MD 21216

www.amirapress.com

ISBN:
978-1-935348-00-9

No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and e-mail, without prior written permission from Amira Press.

So beautiful.
He watched her smile while she strapped a piece of rubber around a patient’s bicep. The smile was brilliant, kindly, and full of encouragement as she slipped a hollow needle into the vein. She murmured reassuring words to ease her patient’s fears, and the lifeblood of the man began to fill the tube. Even from far away, he could hear her every word. She talked about the weather and asked about children, a conversation to take a person’s mind from what was happening into a happy place. Finally, she was done, and then she flashed that glorious smile once more.
Perfection.

No one could see him as he walked down the corridor behind her. He had done for weeks now. He watched her work, and at night, he sat outside her window and watched her sleep. Her beauty took his immortal breath away. The normality of her life gave him hope for himself. After thousands of years, one mistake had made him who he was now. Only redemption could free him from him immortal torment, his dungeon, his curse. Invisible, he sat next to her while she wrote up charts at her small desk in her space, her sanctuary, where she worked.

He inhaled the scent of her hair like it was a fine wine. The dark tresses smelled of honeysuckle and vanilla spice. He wanted to run his finger down the creamy chocolate shoulder that was exposed when she took off her lab coat. When she turned, her nose was just a breath away from his, yet she did not know it. Her breath caressed his lips. It had the scent of the strawberry soft chews that she liked to snack on at her desk. He stared into eyes that were like liquid chocolate. Her lips were full, and she wore gloss that had a slight color of gold. Pictures of family and friends were all around her, trinkets of her human life that she treasured. One picture she favored the
most,
and she looked at it every day. She caressed the silver frame that said
grandmother
in raised letters. He heard her speak of the woman frequently, even saw them go out to lunch, and saw how she hugged her with affection and love. He longed for that emotional connection, that bond with another person that could not be broken. He craved. . . .

The call jarred him from his place next to her. It was like a sledgehammer to his head. He hated when this time came around. He hated being away from her. But if he did not go to his duties, the repercussion would be great, and by the time his punishment was over, a hundred years would have passed and she would be long gone. A frown darkened his face as he moved away from her, and he promised to return to no one but himself. The next time, he would reveal himself to her slowly and let her know the man before she knew the secret.
Next time.

Her name was Bliss.
Bliss . . . Bliss . . . Bliss.
He repeated the name over and over in his head. She would be his bliss and his salvation. He felt it in the fiber of his being. He closed his eyes and phased out of this world owned by humanity and into a world no one wanted to see. The walls of rock were dark with soot, and the ground scorched the soles of shoes. As he walked, the heat caused the rubber to hiss like water dropped into a hot frying pan. He hardened his heart to the screams of torment around him, the pleas for mercy, or even a drink of water to quench eternal thirst. Had he shown any compassion, the consequences would be dire for him and for the person whose plea he answered. No, it was better to pretend he did not see the bodies chained to the rock walls or hear the lashes from
Qemuel’s
whip against the flesh of his captives as he passed.

“What took you so long,
Caim
?”

The snarl came from the demonic lips of Belial. His face was almost flawless in its beauty, but it belied the pure evil that hid underneath. There was no one more malevolent, more filled with hate and destruction than Belial.
Caim
had long stopped fearing him. He looked at him now with total disinterest.

He leaned his shoulder against the steaming rock wall. It burned a hole through the fabric of his black shirt, down to his skin. It burned his flesh, but
Caim
did not even wince, such was the life of a fallen angel in hell.

“So no answer?” Belial asked.

“Why should I give you excuses, Belial? You are not my master. You only dispense assignments. You are basically a secretary. And as soon as I was summoned, I came,”
Caim
replied mildly. It gave him great pleasure to see the flaming anger turn red in the demon’s eyes.

“Your insolence will not be forgotten. One of these days, my revenge will be swift.”

“Said the demon to the fallen angel who lives in hell with him.”
Caim
scoffed, unconcerned. “Why was I summoned? Give me my assignment, secretary, and go back to making coffee.”

With a loud growl that was reminiscent of a lion’s roar, Belial was on his feet. His tail lashed the desk in front of him and split it into two. Black ooze flowed from the wood, and talons sprouted from Belial’s hands. Gone was the perfect man. Now, the face of a demon was pure and visible in its hate.
Caim
took battle stance. From his black back wings ripped their way through the fabric of his shirt. In his hands appeared a black sword. If Belial wanted a fight, he would give him one, feathers against scales.

“Enough!” A booming voice cut through the room and shook loose rocks from the ceiling. Both looked around to the hulking figure that stood in the doorway of an executive office.
Samael
, the lord of this part of the underworld who only answered to Lucifer himself, looked back and forth between the two.
Caim
stood and let his wings fall to his side. He knew better than to piss off
Samael
. Belial, still in demon in demon form, ready to fight with razor fangs descended, stood obstinate.

“Belial, do I have to speak again?”
Samael
asked coldly.

“No, sire.” Belial went back to his flawless beauty, and with a wave of his hand, his desk was back to its original position, and not even a splinter of wood was missing.

“Come,
Caim
. We shall speak in here,”
Samael
said. He spoke like any businessman would speak, but
Caim
knew the demon under the business suit was the cause of some of man’s greatest downfalls. “Why do you aggravate him so? You know Belial has a short fuse.”

“I have to find my enjoyment in this place somehow,”
Caim
murmured.

“The way you say it would make a demon think you were not happy here.”
Samael
fixed him with a dark stare.

“Are you happy here?”
Caim
asked pointedly.

The question caused
Samael
to laugh. “Fuck no, that’s why I go topside as much as I can.”

“So why am I here?”

“Your performance has been lacking,
Caim
. You left two souls’ debts uncollected from yesterday. You know the Devil always gets his dues, and you know how he gets when he doesn’t.”

“What souls? I received no calls.”
Caim
knew who was responsible, but said nothing.

“Belial sent the call out himself,”
Samael
replied, tapping a long,
taloned
finger on his mahogany desk.

“Oh, a demon who doesn’t lie,”
Caim
said sarcastically. “Belial plays childish games. He’s being an asshole.”

“Remember to whom you speak,
Caim
. I could have you chained to
Qemuel’s
wall with a snap of my finger.”

“I apologize, sire. If you say a call came, then I must have been mistaken. I shall take my duties more diligently.”
Caim
made his tone as apologetic as possible, even though apologizing was the farthest thing from his mind.

“See that you do.”
Samael
paused. “You are my favorites, you and Belial both. I wish my boys would get along.”

Caim
bit his tongue against the remark that rose to his lips.
His boys
.
Caim
had not let the demonic part of a fallen angel take hold. He did not plan to let the evil corrupt his soul more than it had. “Sire, I shall do my best to make peace with Belial. Now I shall go to my duties.”

At
Samael’s
nod, he knew he had permission to leave. He left the office and passed his nemesis, whose dark look did nothing to falter his steps. He would go collect the debts owed to the Devil, and then he would find his happiness, his Bliss.

* * * *

Never make a deal with the Devil.
Caim
had seen it so many times generation after generation. Men’s greed, women’s lust for endless beauty, love of money and power. For as little as getting the girl, humans put themselves in debt to Lucifer. When it was time for the debt to be collected, then was when the magnitude of what they had done seeped in. This was one of Belial’s contracts.
Caim
could almost see the sweet smile on his face as he got her to sign. Two sides of the same coin, Belial was the proprietor of contracts. He was a soul collector, a fallen angel who collected the Devil’s pay, and it was time to work. In his open hand, two contracts appeared. The bottom of each was signed in blood.

Caim
lifted the parchment to his nose and inhaled the life essence of each new soul. He closed his eyes and phased out of the demon realm of hell and into the office of his first collection, Daniela Delight of Delights Cosmetics. She had been a teenage blonde with a new baby living in a trailer park. Now she was the president of a multimillion-dollar conglomerate known across the world. She had signed the contract in a stifling hot trailer with a crying baby on her hip and tears in her eyes. Everything had changed for her. She had given up the child and had forgotten where she came from. She became hard and cruel, only searching for more fame and fortune. But when
Caim
phased into her luxurious office, Daniela had known it was time to leave, and she was making preparations.

Not a glimmer of surprise crossed her face when
Caim
appeared, but there was sadness in her eyes. She looked down at a stack of files on her desk.