"Brimstone" characters beloved creations of Ethan Reiff and Cyrus Voris.
Story copyright Madeleine Jane Hughes, 1999

With thanks, as always, to Kath, my encouragement and constant support. To Boyd for putting up with a complete stranger, and to Simon, my inspiration.

Breathless
by elfin

"It's better to be on my right hand, than in my path. Remember that, Ezekiel."

He thought about it for a while as he stirred his coffee. It made sense, he guessed. "What can I call you?"

The Devil frowned under his wide-brimmed hat. "Call me?"

"Yeah. You must have a name. Thinking about it, you've probably got lots. Give me one."

"...Satan?"

Ezekiel gazed at the human form sitting opposite him. 'Satan' conjured up memories of fire and pain, screams of the dead, horns and a pointed tail, and a laugh that could set heaven aflame. Somehow the white cotton shirt, black jeans and fedora didn't fit. He shook his head. "It doesn't suit you."

The devil stared back at him. "What?"

Zeke picked up his coffee mug, turning it in his hands so that the handle pointed outwards and his warm fingers could wrap around the cheap ceramic. "It's not you, you're not a 'Satan'."

"I'm the ruler of hell, the evil one. I am the Devil!"

"I know. But up here... it's just not you. Give me another."

'Satan' looked confused for a moment, before he caught on. He sighed. "Lucifer?"

The ex-detective graced his boss with a dirty look as he continued to drink. "Don't you have better things to do with your mornings than to watch me eat breakfast?"

Lucifer seemed to think that over. "There are other things I could be doing, I suppose. That's the great thing about eternity, you have all the time in the world."

Zeke gave the other a 'whatcha gonna do' look. "Not a lot of use when you're dead."

"Um." The devil picked up the salt shaker and turned it in his fingers. Holding it up, he watched as the sunshine through the window splintered in the cheap glass and threw sharp beams of brightness over his face and neck. Ezekiel stared at him. In these few months he had been on earth, he could have sworn that the immortal evil of the ruler of hell was becoming tempered. In the bowels of the fiery underworld he commanded, Lucifer caused more suffering than was imaginable. He cast souls into molten pits filled with their own mortal nightmares, performed unspeakable acts on unwilling subjects, brought forth screams of agony for the enjoyment of his own brand of music. Yet recently his acts had been subdued. Half-opening condiment jars in the cafes in which Zeke ate and the devil watched. Tying together the shoe-laces of the homeless who slept in the streets. Dropping bugs into bags of sweets as he passed children playing, blissfully unaware of the malevolence near by.

Lucifer put down the salt shaker and folded his arms on the table as he looked up at his unwilling servant. "May I tell you a story?"

Ezekiel shook his head in disbelief and picked up his fork. "All I ask is that I am allowed to finish my breakfast."

"Please, go ahead. I'll talk, you listen."

Zeke took up his knife and sliced through the cold toast under the fried yellow and white splatter than had once been an egg.

"There are those who I cannot touch. Immortals not bound to heaven or hell, but to earth. They have eternal life, without fear of death or decease or judgement. Their curse is to live an unspeakable existence, unable to walk in the sunlight, living only on the life blood of the mortals whose dying world they share."

Ezekiel looked up. This wasn't the devil's usual tone. "You sound like a story teller trying to frighten children."

"Are you going to listen or mock me?"

Zeke waved an uncaring hand. "No, go on. Please."

Lucifer rolled his borrowed eyes heavenward. Stone had been like this ever since that annoying individual had found him a near-constant supply of 'Reggie' bars. Idly, the devil wondered if it could be considered a valid reason for sending the mortal straight to hell when his time came. He decided probably not. He tried to remember where he'd been in his tale. "Two such creatures once roamed this earth. One was a tall, proud man, once a general in the Roman armies, he was made immortal by an unknown soldier on a battlefield. Yet this soldier was a loner. He had made this one child of darkness to live, for the thousands who lay dying around them. He gave his new son of blood a few terse instructions and then left him."

Zeke was watching him now, having stilled in his eating he actually looked attentive.

"For a thousand years he walked over the earth, initially seeking out others of his kind, and later actively avoiding them as he found they bored him for the most part. Finally, he found a son. One thirteenth century evening in London he happened on a young man, beaten so badly he would surely die, lying in a dank alley where his attacker had left him."

Lucifer smiled and continued. "He could almost taste the young one's need for revenge. And so he brought him across, holding him as the blood healed all his wounds, and his blond beauty shone through the dirt. They soon became lovers, dancing through the endless dark hours they shared, feeding on the mortals that crossed their paths, living in high society, running with the night. For seven hundred years they travelled the globe, watching the world as it changed, never leaving one another for fear the separation would break their cold hearts."

Zeke stared at him, and when it became clear that Lucifer was not going to continue, he urged him on. "What happened?"

Pleased with his demon servant's attentiveness, he went on. "One night, only a few years ago, a hunter of their kind happened upon them in a darkened alley. As they fed from one another in the throes of desperate love making, the hunter staked them both, killing them as they tried to comfort one another in their final moments."

The two sat staring at one another for a few seconds; Lucifer amazed at the continued interest being shown, and Ezekiel wondering where this little aside was going. Finally the devil sat back. "They were brought to me, of course. I was... taken with them, with their story. Two such as I, who killed for pleasure, who lived in the darkness that mortals cannot face. They fascinated me. They... showed me things, taught even the devil himself some new tricks. And in return, I allowed them to remain together in hell as they had done for almost a century on earth."

Zeke watched his boss, saw the odd look in his eyes. "Why are you telling me this?" Yet his voice remained low, gentle somehow. He wasn't sure why.

"They both escaped. But...."

"But?"

It was the first time - Zeke realised - that he had actually seen the devil look guilty. "Higher powers knew the numbers. You had to bring home 113. I had to draw 113 runes on your body in my blood."

Ezekiel nodded with the patient of a parent. "I know all this, boss, we've been through it about a thousand times already."

"I allowed two more to escape, while no one was looking."

Zeke just stared. And then he smiled. And then he opened his mouth and laughed. "You broke your own rules! Why?"

"I...."

The demon in human form wiped his tearing eyes. As his laughter faded, he could have sworn he saw the devil blush. "You let the two vampires go. You're going to allow them to stay free." An excited light lit the blue eyes of the Devil's chosen body. "No one can ever touch them again. They're immortal, eternally. You should have seen them, Ezekiel. They knew everything about exquisite pleasure and soul-searing pain. Together they could light sparks in the soul and keep the embers burning for hours, days, holding to the top of a precipice none have known before."

Zeke shook his head, bemused. "Look at you! You're acting like a love-stuck teenager." In hell, the comment would surely have earned him fifty lashes. Up here it merely resulted in a sharp kick to the shin. All he could do was grin. All the devil could do, by the look of him, was scowl. Finally, Ezekiel relented. "Okay, okay. So why bother telling me. This isn't the confessional, Lucifer, and I doubt they'd allow you in if it was, you'd be there for years."

The devil sighed inwardly, annoyed by his own seeming lack of judgement and the casual regard his detective showed him now. Yet he found himself unwilling to punish severely. He wondered what that meant. "I'm telling you this because I believe one of the two that I released has finally turned up." From nowhere, the morning paper materialised before Zeke's eyes, dropping to the table in an instant. Ezekiel was glad he'd finished eating. He scanned the headline.

'Two Die In Occult Worship.'

"You couldn't have released two people sent to hell for trampling flowers or standing on insects?"

"I thought they were both lawyers. The other one was, you can leave him until last if you want, he won't be doing anyone any physical harm. This one took advantage of the situation."

"Will there ever be a time you don't surprise me? Someone took advantage of the Devil? The ruler of hell, the personification of evil, the great...."

Lucifer kicked him again. "Thank you. Yes. I was in a hurry."

Ezekiel chuckled, picking up his coffee mug and reading the rest of the article as he tried to drink the rapidly cooling liquid. When his expression soured at the first mouthful, he felt the Devil lean forward. Lifting his head, he watched as his boss took the mug from him and wrapped his own, slim hands around it. A moment later, he handed the drink back to his detective. The coffee was hot again, as if it had just been poured. Zeke smiled in surprise. "Thank you."

The Devil shrugged and stood. "Be careful with this one. He will know you. He will know how to rid himself of you."

Zeke watched his boss leave using the door of the café, and then vanish into thin air. He'd been bemused by the Devil's behaviour while they had been up here. His powers were limited in his human form and he seemed... different. Tempered had fitted quite well as a description. Now and again his anger would flare in those fiery eyes, for all the right reasons, and Zeke would suffer momentarily. But he'd known pain. He'd been in hell fifteen years after all. Had Lucifer been watching him all that time? Why had he chosen him? He chased the disturbing thoughts from his mind and turned his attention back to the paper. Maybe good deeds between demons were just evil helping out evil. Maybe that was why he now held a mug of steaming hot coffee. Freshly brewed. Nothing like the black tar they served in this place.

***

Talking to people. Detective work was all about talking to the right people and asking the right questions. Today he didn't feel like talking to people. It was one of his strengths, he decided, being polite, attentive and kind when he needed to be, even when he wasn't in the mood. But he couldn't shake the Devil's words from his head. Why had he told him all that he had? And why had he warned him about this particular wayward demon? It truly wasn't in the Devil's nature to offer information without there being a price.

By lunch-time Ezekiel had found five witnesses, all of whom had been at the meeting of occultists last night, all of whom swore that the two men died of heart attacks; one after watching the other die in his arms. They were both elderly men - the paper confirmed - and for some reason Zeke expected the post-mortem to come to the same conclusion; natural causes. Officially, the case would be dead in the water by this time tomorrow.

Yet the Devil hadn't seemed to be kidding around. He had sounded serious, possibly more serious than Ezekiel had ever known him. So what was he missing? Was it just coincidence that two men died of heart attacks so close together? He sat down on the bottom step of the house belonging to his last witness. He realised he felt hungry again. This demon chasing was hard work, but when had he developed mealtimes?

"It's a puzzle, isn't it?"

The Devil's sudden and usually unwelcome visits had ceased to disturb or surprise him. Now and again it was even good to talk with someone who knew what he was. At least he could be himself. And there was some kind of warmth between them. He had unwittingly begun to settle in Lucifer's company, playfully mocking him when he banged on about this and that, laughing sometimes at his jokes, listening to his stories.... "The newspaper headline was wrong. Those two men died of natural causes - old age."

The Devil's eyes widened in question. "But did the natural causes occur naturally?"

Another clue. Ezekiel couldn't understand it. He looked across at his companion and it struck him. "This one's your responsibility, isn't it? Ash didn't instigate this one's escape; you did, to allow your precious vampires freedom. You showed mercy on them, and you released this monster on to earth. And if He ever found out...."

"Don't." Zeke stopped dead at the startling desperation underlying the single word. For a moment, he really looked at the devil, and he saw there a sadness he had not expected to see in a thousand years, had not seen before and knew he probably wouldn't see again. A second later it was gone, the sly, malicious creature he was used to returned. "Yes, this one is my responsibility. Your responsibility now, Ezekiel, because that's your job. That's what I'm paying you for."

"Does this job come with a life insurance and health care package?"

It was strange, the things that could send the ruler of hell into a rage. He leapt from the step, turning to spit his next words into Ezekiel's face. "Very funny." He crouched down, his face inches from the other demon's, his hot breath touching the other's lips. "This isn't a joke. This isn't some idiot mortal playing god. This one is ancient, he knows all the old ways of black magic and he knows how to use them. This isn't tarot cards and scented candles. This one. Is. Real."

One moment Ezekiel was staring into the burning embers of hell. The next, he was looking over the street, alone. He shook his head and sighed. Maybe if Lucifer actually told him things that were useful, instead of flying off into a rage at the smallest comment, they would rid the earth of this real monster just that little bit faster. The smell of a Chinese restaurant caught his senses, and he decided it was time for some food.

***

Kanundra lifted the knife from the bloodied form slumped across the table before him. "You will worship," he murmured, a smile in his voice. It surprised him how easily the mortals of this age followed his word, his instruction. As if life in these modern times had sucked the soul from them already, and they were just searching for a way in which to die.

He did not know to where his victims - his sacrifices - went. Heaven or hell. It had not been a surprise to him when he had found himself standing before the Devil so many hundreds of years before. It had been an honour. After worshipping the darkness for most of his life, he had expected to go to hell... and to spend his own eternity worshipped in his turn, as he had worshipped in life. Only the devil is worshipped in hell. The once beloved angel of heaven, fallen from that glory to become the ruler of the heated pit had toyed with him, seeking to torment him in reward for a life's servitude.

But now he was free. Others would be killed, and some would take his place as the jokers in Satan's court. It could not be helped. Before he could enjoy this simple life, with its ancient pleasures wrapped in modern ease and a wide-spread, open-minded attitude, he had to destroy the one Satan had sent to return them all to his own dominion. Ezekiel Stone.

There had been rumours, of course - around the time of the break-out - concerning the devil and his 'favourites'. Ash herself had eluded to it on many occasions as they lay together, the flames lapping at them like tamed pets. Satan had no morals, obviously, and his stranglehold on those he craved was something all tenants of hell feared. Yet just after the initial 113 escaped, and the devil had released he and the other snivelling soul, the name Ezekiel Stone had been on lips of all. He had never been touched by the Devil. It seemed that Morning Starr had at last truly found his favourite. And could not bear to keep him.

***

Zeke fell back hard onto the bug-ridden mattress, flinching involuntarily as the bed's rusted springs gave under his weight. What he wouldn't do for a pay-raise. He'd tried, but attempting to appeal to the Devil's generous side was as useless as trying to get ice-cream in hell. Well, in the mouth anyway. Sighing, he opened his eyes and found himself staring up at an ornately scribed verse painted in black on to the ceiling above where he lay.

     'for great indeed
     His name, and high was his degree in Heav'n;
     His count'nance, as the Morning Starr that guides
     The starrie flock, allur'd them,'

Ezekiel read the partial stanza over again. It wasn't like the Devil to write, usually he just dropped in to chat. As his eyes swept over the lines, written in an ancient hand, he kept expecting that perfectly tuned voice to start talking before its speaker had even appeared. But the room remained quiet, save for the passing cars in the road outside, and the shouts of children playing on the sidewalks.

The afternoon sun dipped down to stream its rays in through the grimy window of his cheap apartment. He had to go back out, to collect a copy of the post-mortem report from the morgue. Sometimes the little tricks he'd learnt in hell came in useful, despite his determination not to use them too much while he was up on earth. He wanted to feel human, mortal and alive. That was why he ate, slept, took on the routines that people tied themselves to and called life.

He glanced out of the window. The verse on the ceiling could wait, although he doubted Max would look kindly on the defacing of the property.

***

Manila envelope in hand, Ezekiel wondered home. It was a gorgeous afternoon, and he had already decided to eat out, even if that meant a pizza in the park. As he walked, he noticed a bookstore across the road from him, a single window stacked with battered copies of all the classics. And a black wooden door with a grubby sign declaring the shop, 'Open'. Zeke crossed the road and pushed on the door.

It was similar to many bookstores, he guessed. In life he hadn't been much of a reader if the material did not have at least a tenuous connection to the case. He comforted himself with the thought that the only one who could have written the quotation on his ceiling was his boss. So it must be a clue. When the old man behind the rapidly crumbling counter asked if he could help, Ezekiel requested a copy of John Milton's "Paradise Lost."

He excited the small doorway with the book in a brown paper bag, and feeling somewhat like a dirty old man coming out of a sex shop. He decided he would prefer the inhabitants of this part of the city to believe it was porn in the bag, and not poetry.

Back in his room, Ezekiel dropped the morgue report onto the dresser and lay down once again on his bed, re-reading the lines sketched above and then opening the book. Inside the front cover, there was an inscription, written in the same hand as the verse on the ceiling.

     'Whose wanton passions in the sacred Porch
     Ezekiel saw'

He smiled wanly. He was becoming far too predictable, obviously. He had done just what was expected of him. The line at the front, he discovered, was taken out of context. Ezekiel had seen visions, of Idols and of God. What was the Devil trying to tell him this time? As he had asked his boss once, if Lucifer wanted Zeke to catch these freaks, why wasn't he being more helpful?!

Leaning back and raising the book so he could see it, Ezekiel started to read.

Four hours later, having read the poem and the notes that the book's previous owner had scrawled in the margins and between the lines, Ezekiel was no closer to knowing why the Devil had left that particular message for him. He had discovered the lines within the poem, and had made a mental note of what the pencil scribbles read at that section.

     'Morning Starr = Lucifer (light-bringer) the name of Satan before his fall from Heaven;
     name in heaven changed to Satan = enemy.'

Zeke rubbed his eyes. He needed a break, and the study of Milton at his most prolific wasn't getting him any closer to finding his next tortured soul. He dumped the book on the rumpled sheets and picked up the morgue report. Yet something made him reach back for the volume. Grabbing his jacket, sliding the copy of Milton into one of the inner pockets, he headed out for pizza in the park.

***

The sunset kissed the horizon while Ezekiel munched a slice of Garlic & Mushroom pizza. He lay sprawled on his front in the grass, supported on his elbows, trying not to drop cheese and tomato topping on to the pages of the report. The medical examiner had indeed found that the two old men had died of natural causes. But there had also been unusual signs of extreme stress around the heart. As if, perhaps, the heart attack had been induced somehow. It would have happened without the extra pressure, but maybe later, rather than sooner.

The Devil had been trying to tell him something earlier on in the day, when they had met on the last witness' doorstep. But his manner had been so erratic, so explosive, that it had been difficult to gauge any sense of how serious he was being. Or how helpful. He thought back to that lunch-time. Lucifer had gone nuts when Zeke had made that playful quip about life insurance. And maybe that had been pushing it a little, after the odd reaction he had seen when he had mentioned Him finding out about the escapees.... It suddenly occurred to Ezekiel that he wasn't the only one with a past.

Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out his newly purchased poetry and opened it to the place he'd marked by turning over the page corner. He re-read the lines that had been written on his ceiling, and the notes beside them. Why would the Devil point him to a passage that gave away more about His Evilness than about the demon he was hunting?

"I didn't."

Zeke congratulated himself on not even flinching. Yet the tone of the usually honeyed voice was low, sad. He looked across at his companion. Lucifer was lying beside him, mirroring his position, picking at the grass before him. He didn't look at Zeke, even when he felt the other's intensely curious regard. "Then who?"

There was a hot sigh, and a pause, and then, "His name is Kanundra."

Ezekiel waited. But the Devil seemed to be in a contemplative mood, and for some reason, maybe the lovely evening or the calming birdsong, he did not want to push at this moment. He closed the book and left it on the grass between them. Once again he reached for the morgue report and continued to put together the clues he hoped would eventually reveal the cause of the two men's deaths.

It was sometime later that Lucifer opened the cover of the book and read the inscription. "He's baiting you." The words were spoken quietly. Zeke did not lift his head from the papers in front of him, but he did shift his attention completely to what the Devil had to say. "He wants you to go to him."

"He must know what I'll do."

"He believes he can beat you. And I."

Zeke gathered up the report and closed the file, pushing it to one side. He folded his arms before him and lay his head down, facing his subdued boss. "Who is he?"

The devil flipped the book closed with one finger and returned to picking at the grass. "We all have our crosses to bare, Ezekiel, even me."

Leaving a pause, in case anything more was forthcoming (which it wasn't), Zeke murmured, "You do want him returned, don't you?"

"Yes." Finally, Lucifer looked up at his companion and sighed. "He was a Devil worshipper, many hundreds of years ago. He was a high priest in one of the first of my churches. I thought it a novel idea. I went to a few of the rituals, unseen of course. He was deadly serious in his praise of me. He scarified virgins to me, wrote incantations meant to summon me, all of which I ignored. One night, I took form in his room and slipped into his dreams. I sodomized him." Zeke hid his reaction well. "I wanted to see what would happen."

"What did?" His voice was harder than he would have liked, but the Devil did not seem to notice.

"He worshipped me more enthusiastically than before. I took him many times, and after each time he grew more obsessed. When he died he of course came to me, and he did so with pride. He expected to stay at my side. As I had used his body for my own pleasures in his life, he expected me to in death." Lucifer caught Zeke's knowing grimace. "I'd had my fun. He was dead and could do nothing more for me. So I sent him deep into hell and did not see him again."

"Until you released him."

"Yes. He got out before I could stop him. He tricked me."

Silence descended between them. Zeke wanted to ask how any damned souls could trick the Devil into allowing them their freedom. But he didn't. It wasn't important now. He was out here somewhere, killing people. Zeke was sure that the two men were only the beginning. There may have been more in the past, there would be more in the future.

"Any idea why two old men? If he used to kill virgins...."

Lucifer pursed his lips and shook his head. "I have no idea. He's a Satanist, an occultist, a very old and knowledgeable one. And no doubt he picked up some tricks. It's the age-old problem, isn't it? Lock a group of thieves in a small area together for long enough, and they could work out a way to steal anything. Prisoners learn from one another. But they're not supposed to get the chance to put it all into practice up here."

Again, the devil fell silent, returning his attention to the unfortunate blades of grass in front of him. Zeke lifted his head and gazed down at the runes visible on his arms where he had pushed his shirt-sleeves up. "Which one is he?"

The devil glanced at him, and for a moment Zeke thought he was not going to answer. And then Lucifer pushed himself up, sitting with his legs to one side. "He is on your left shoulder." With gentle hands he pulled Zeke's loose, dark shirt collar back, revealing the curve of his shoulder. Tenderly, he ran a single, teasing finger pads over the rune inscribed on Ezekiel's skin.

As the fingertip touched his flesh Zeke felt a stirring of passions deep with him, a flash of warmth overwhelm him. He shivered slightly, his eyes flickering closed for a moment as an involuntary groan escaped him. He thought he felt the Devil smile.

"Sorry."

The apology surprised Ezekiel. He glanced back, over his shoulder, as his shirt was replaced and his companion hesitated, hand on the human shoulder, for a moment before lying back down.

Despite being unsure if he really wanted to know, Zeke asked quietly, "What was that?"

"Contact. The tattoos are scribed in my blood - such as it is. My essence is probably a better description. You just felt the spark." Zeke nodded, not really in understanding or acceptance. He just wasn't sure if he wanted to know more. Unconsciously, he pulled his shirt forward. "I don't know how you're going to deal with this one," Lucifer finally admitted. "Just be careful."

He stood up, turning his head before turning the rest of him away from his detective and strolling off. Zeke watched as, a couple of seconds later, he vanished from view.

***

It was a hot, sticky night. Ezekiel had found himself although feeling the heat, actually liking it since his return. Yet this night, he couldn't rest. Not that he needed to. He lay naked under the blanket as the small hours of the morning ticked passed. There had been no word of Kanundra since the two old men. The local police had closed the case, ignoring the coroner's report. Witchcraft never was one of the NYPD's strengths.

He did not know how to find this soul. The Devil had said that he was being baited, but how did sex lines of old verse lead him anywhere? Something made him sit up, turn on the light and pick up the battered copy of Milton from the bedside table. He started to read.

As dawn approached, Zeke dressed quickly and left his apartment.

***

Ezekiel stood in the park, close to where he had lain the evening before. As the sunlight hit the trees behind him, he knew he was no longer alone.

"Has he told you... his past, his pain, that which he hides from all the rest yet which will consume him for all eternity?"

Zeke turned his head a fraction to look at the tall, cloaked figure that approached him. "Kanundra."

A smile lit the ancient face. "So he told you about me! That pleases me greatly. I was important to him once, as you are now."

Ezekiel allowed the ghost of a smile to dance across his features. "I'm just doing a job."

"Of course."

Kanundra moved to stand a few feet in front of Ezekiel and slowly he lowered the hood of his cape. The tall man's shadow fell over Zeke. He was bald, his brilliant jade eyes set deep into his skull, thin lips curved into an understanding smile, although Zeke wasn't sure what of. "That which he surveys... is not all that he desires, nor deserves. He merely questioned. Curiosity, individuality, the ability to think for yourself... these things were not allowed in the hallowed kingdom."

"If you're trying to convince me that the Devil deserves our sympathy, you're wasting your time. All I'm concerned with is returning you all to where you belong and getting out of here."

"And you truly believe that the master of lies would not deceive you when the final soul is caught?"

Ezekiel did not want to answer that; he did not want to think about it. This was his only chance. When the time came... he could only hope that he would be released as their deal had agreed.

Kanundra turned slightly, staring up at the new dawn. "'Morning Starr' - it's a beautiful name, is it not? 'Lucifer', 'Luciel', 'Lucien' - all his names mean 'bringer of light'. Ironic, isn't it, that all he has ever received is darkness and hatred?"

"If you feel so much... adoration for him, why is it that you left? Why didn't you stay in hell, stay close to him?"

"Because he did not understand the depth of my love for him. Only on earth can I show him how deeply I worship him. Only here can I kill for him, shed the blood of the innocent and the pure in his name. Only up here will he take me."

Zeke felt a chill drive through him. "Has he... taken you while you've been back?"

"Alas, no." He turned then, and the expression on his features made Ezekiel step away, his hands dipping inside his coat, reaching for the two loaded guns. "He has... other things on his mind."

It had been too easy, and maybe that should have given him a clue as to there being something wrong. But he had ridded the earth of many demons now, and he was confident of his own abilities in these situations, despite the terrible grin on the other's face, and the malevolence in his tone.

Zeke held the two guns at arm's length and aimed directly into the eyes of the occultist who stood before him. Yet the other demon was not showing any fear, not attempting to escape the finality of what would happen when the Devil's collector of souls pulled the triggers.

Instead, he stood, almost smiling, his arms folded in the creases of his flowing robes, his eyes sparkling with the fires of hell. "Is it the same for us both? Or will he allow you to return, to continue your hunt?"
Zeke looked at the tall form standing before him. He knew exactly what he meant, but chose not to answer. He had never found it in his best interests to talk to the demons he exorcised back to their rightful place. There was only one truth for him, nothing was going to change that. His fingers tightened on the triggers.

Kanundra spoke three words in an ancient dialect. The weapons were torn from Ezekiel's grip to turn in mid-air and aim themselves back at his own blue eyes. He stopped breathing. "This won't help."

"Maybe I can send you back in my place. You had it easy, Ezekiel Stone. I should try to show you the real hell."

In a moment, the shots were fired, and the occultist gone.

Ezekiel screamed as he felt the bullets enter his head through the burning crevices of his eyes. Instantly, his soul erupted in white-hot pain as it was ripped from him. A fire started at the base of his spine, an agony so intense it stole his breath, burnt through his lungs, started to burst forth from his eyes. A second scream peeled forth as the first tendrils of himself left his body and the ground opened up below him to admit him into the hell fire.

A hand was forced over his eyes, covering the deep, bloodless wounds. Through his terror, Zeke felt that the flesh from that palm was running into his brain, sealing his soul inside, stopping the ground from consuming him by its simple presence. Instinct took his own hands to his face, but they were forced down, held firmly in front of him by an immovable force. Hot breath caressed his ear.

"Don't fight me. I can keep you here but you have to let me." The honey voice was soft but insistent. Zeke nodded once, slowly, thankfully accepting his boss' help, however unexpected it was. "I have to take you with me, to repair your human form. You'll know you're not on earth. But don't be tempted; when your eyes heal, keep them closed. It won't be for long." Zeke nodded once again, just slightly, not in any hurry for the hand to leave his face. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," he choked out the whispered word somehow. And then he heard, whispered so quietly he almost wasn't sure,

"I won't let you fall."

They descended. Zeke felt the heat, and then the intense pressure surrounding them. He was clasped firmly against the hard, hot form of the devil; one arm was wrapped closely around him, while the other hand remained over his hollow eye sockets. They came to a slow stop, yet his feet still could not touch any ground. The figure behind him melted, taking on the form that he usually assumed down in the pit, Zeke imagined. He was wrong. He imagined a forked talk, long pointed fingers, a forked tail and horns of flames. He did not see the light, nor the wings unfurled.

"Trust me." The timbre of the voice was the same, yet the multitude that sang around it remained in Ezekiel's head for a long time, like an echo, comforting him, keeping him balanced while the same black spells that had originally allowed him to take back his old form worked once again. Zeke suddenly found himself blinking behind the loosened hand. Still he was blind to his surroundings, and he was thankful for that. Already the screams of the damned were beginning to filter through to this place, this half-way point between life on earth and immortality in hell....

Abruptly, Ezekiel found himself in his apartment in New York. He was alone. He opened his eyes without fear, knowing all was well again - as well as it could be. Outside, the sun was up and the streets were coming alive as the day began. Dropping down onto the edge of the bed, Zeke took in several deep breaths. Even the stale air of the apartment was glorious compared to the stifling smog of the underworld.

Lying back, Zeke's eyes took in the detail of the dirty ceiling. The verse from Milton was gone.

***

When he next opened his eyes, it was late afternoon. He turned his head to look out of the window, and was surprised to find he was being watched. Lucifer had pulled up a chair, turned it and straddled it, folded his arms across the back and rested his chin on his hand. He smiled at Zeke. "Hey."

Ezekiel blinked against the light. "Hey yourself. What are you doing here?"

"Protecting my investment? I wanted to make sure you were all right."

Zeke rubbed his eyes and sat up. "Yeah, I think." He pointed vaguely upwards. "The verse has gone."

"Of course. He has no further use for it."

Ezekiel processed what had happened that very morning. "Does he know what you did?"

"I doubt he expects that returning you to hell is a permanent solution to his problem."

The devil's answer worried him. "Is there a permanent solution... to me?"

Lucifer hesitated for a moment, and then shook his head. "No. Not while your soul is mine."

Another answer that caused concern. Not wanting to continue this, Zeke swung his legs off the bed, opposite to where the devil sat, and stood. "Any pointers you can to give in this instance would be greatly appreciated." His voice gained an echo as he stepped into the cold bathroom. He didn't have to eat or drink, but he did, so his body needed to empty itself.

"Instead of talking to my escaped wards, you should think about simply shooting them in the eyes the moment you find them and ending it."

"I'm trying to make friends," Zeke called out from behind the door. "I might have to face them again one day." He imagined he could feel the Devil's eyebrows raising.

"Doubting me, Ezekiel?"

The toilet flushed, and Zeke stepped back into the bedroom. "Should I be?"

With a serious tone rarely heard in the Devil's voice, Lucifer replied, "We made a deal, I won't break my word to you."

"Um." Grabbing his jacket, Zeke headed for the door; the less time he spent in this dump, the better. He caught the expression of... bewilderment? hurt, perhaps, on the Devil's face. He sighed. Sometimes it was like having a temperamental child following him everywhere. "Coming?"

***

"The same café, Ezekiel? Why not live a little? Branch out, find new and exciting places."

The words fell on deaf ears. Zeke was several paces ahead of his boss, had already pushed open the door and stepped into the dingy, road-side diner. Lucifer followed like a trained puppy, unsure why he was remaining at his detective's heals. He told himself it was to ensure Zeke didn't stray from the path set for him. He told himself that Kanundra had to be caught, had to be returned, because otherwise the Devil himself would be in real trouble. That was what he told himself; anything else was too disturbing, too disastrous to admit.

Zeke had the strangest feeling of deja-vu as he sat drinking his coffee, waiting for his food, and watching the Devil sitting opposite him, arms folded, chin rested on his hand. "What's with you at the moment?" he asked finally.

Dark eyes looked up at him, pinned him with a stare that told Ezekiel their owner did not want a conversation. Zeke gazed into those eyes, for the first time actually looking at them. The dark was simply a trick of the dim light within the café. Black, with golden specks, would have been a more accurate description, black holes that a man could drown in, could lose himself in for eternity... waiting for the end that never came....
The Devil smiled as Zeke sat back, blinking away the vivid images of beauty merged with violence. "Some things are difficult to see, aren't they Ezekiel?"

Before he could answer, the waitress was putting his plate in front of him. By the time Zeke looked back up, his companion was gone.

***

It was pure coincidence that Ezekiel Stone arrived on the crime scene at all. He had been wondering, walking around the city, searching for something that would point him in the right direction. Sometimes detective work was about being patient too. He wasn't a particularly patient man.

He had been walking up towards the park when he had seen five marked police cars, and several unmarked ones, all try to stop on the same piece of sidewalk. He started towards the scene, attempting to reach out with the same senses that always told him when the Devil had arrived in his presence. It was a skill he was trying to hone.

Some yards from the large group, that had descended on the scene like vultures, Zeke stopped. He could feel Kanundra watching him. The small hairs on his arms, on the back of his neck, all stood up in response to the chill that spread through him. He changed direction, walking back into the park, knowing he was starting toward the place they had met this morning.

Hands - guns - at the ready, Zeke fired the moment he could focus on the wayward demon. Kanundra moved to one side and waved his hand in an arc in the air. The bullets dropped harmlessly to the ground, their energy taken from them. "They have found my sacrifice," he told Ezekiel proudly, indicating the now large group of officials crowded around a small clearing some distance from them.

Ezekiel kept his eyes on the human form in front of him. Outwardly calm, his mind was reeling. How the hell was he meant to exorcise this soul? The other seemed to read his thoughts. "You cannot harm me. I'm not like the others. I had powers when I was mortal. Now, immortality has given me the knowledge I need to use those powers, to truly understand them. No one can touch me, no human, and certainly not the Devil's lapdog."

"Then what? You can't hurt me."

"I can. I did. How many times would he save you? How important are you to him?" Kanundra stepped forward, closing in on Zeke, his high cheek-bones emphasising his deadly grin.

Ezekiel started to back away, but the other seemed simply to move with him, in perfect sync. "There's no escape if I do not wish it." Kanundra lifted his arm, placing his hand on would-be executioner's shoulder, his ancient fingers sinking into the cloth-covered flesh. Zeke howled in pain, slumping under the impossible weight of the hand he felt that he was being pushed back into the unforgiving ground.

"Stop."

Both spirits turned. The Devil was standing behind Ezekiel, his human form wavering, his hellish self slowly being revealed. Zeke glanced back at his captor and saw the slight uncertainty ghost across his sharp features.

"I shall rid myself of the both of you!" Yet the note of hysteria in Kanundra's voice meant that the words had more confidence than the demon actually felt.

The Devil laughed. It was not the laugh that Zeke was used to hearing from the wide mouth. It was an inhuman bellow of amusement and rage. It echoed around them, separating them from the mortal world, surrounding them with the fury of hell and the surety of death.

"You will return."

Kanundra screamed as pressure began to build in his head. The cry of the earth opening assaulted each of their senses with its acrid smell, its ash taste, its tearing sound, its terrible sight. Ezekiel stumbled back as the soul of the occultist finally broke through the weak flesh that sought to hold it, and flooded out and down to be claimed once more by the grasp of hell.

Silence echoed after Kanundra's final, desolate scream died away. Zeke turned slowly, watching the shifting form of the Devil in his true state. He wanted to say that the Devil had no power on earth. But as he watched, before he could speak, the human form reasserted itself.

Lucifer stood still, no smile, no grin, his eyes molten gold as he looked at Ezekiel with an ineffable sadness. For a moment, Zeke thought Lucifer was going to reach out to him, and in that moment, he would have gone willingly. But instead, that precious gaze was torn from him, and the Devil raised his hands to the sky, arms up and spread, as if in acceptance of a divine intervention.

The sky opened, and from the heavens a bolt of lightening struck downward. Zeke fell back, recovering his balance and shielding his eyes as the gold/silver bolt forked, reaching out to the Devil's hands to entwine electric tendrils with the inhuman fingers.

The violent energy wracked the body the Devil had chosen. It surrounded him, first with light, then with sparks, and finally with fire.

Zeke screamed. For a reason he did not understand he ran forward, crying out at the justice being delivered. Yet the fierce heat and the sharp pain of electrocution drove him back.

The Devil knitted his own fingers into the tendrils embracing his hands. He felt the surges, the agonising spikes of white-hot brutality that raced through him, binding him to the spot. He deserved this. He had known when he had taken his own form on earth and summoned his powers to the surface, that this would be his punishment; the wrath of his father. The anger vented on him many millennia ago was a raw memory of shattered love. This was merely a shadow of the suffering he had experienced back then. Now he could only bask in the agony, because it was all that remained of what he once knew.

Ezekiel again ran forward. And when the innate power drove him away for a second time, he turned his attention upwards. "Let him go!"

The punishment ceased.

The lightening, the metallic screaming of the energy being released into the earth, the Devil himself, all vanished. Ezekiel was left standing alone. And some distance from him, the police were crowded around the crime scene, blissfully unaware of the supernatural occurrences that had just taken place. The reality that had pushed Zeke's own, borrowed life out of view.

***

"Bourbon, double, no ice."

The barman poured a generous double shot and placed the glass in front of his trembling customer. Ezekiel downed the drink in one. "Again."

The barman obliged. "Tough day?"

Zeke drank the strong liquid and nodded. "You could say that." He wished the alcohol had more of an effect. "Got anything stronger?"

"How much do you have?"

Zeke laughed as he dug the remaining change out of his pocket. "Twenty seven dollars... and ninety-six cents." He placed it all onto the bar. His host seemed to hesitate, but something in Ezekiel's manner must have spoken volumes about his state. He nodded, and disappeared around the back for a minute or so. When he returned, he carried a litre-sized bottle with no label. "Sure about this?"

Zeke nodded. "Definitely."

The barman poured, and set the nameless bottle onto the bar. Another momentary glance at his odd customer, and he left Zeke alone to serve a woman who was waiting.

Whatever it was, for Ezekiel the colourless liquid in the unlabeled bottle was a godsend. He could feel the light-headedness, the sheer drunkenness that he had not experienced for over 15 years. He tried not to think back on the events that had brought him to this back-alley bar in the darkest part of New York, but his mind refused to release it's hysterical grip on the images that haunted him.

He wished, above everything else, that he didn't understand what had happened in the park. But he was a bright man, and even if he hadn't had the running start - knowing about hell, knowing the Devil on a personal basis - he would have known exactly what it was that he saw. The repercussions; retribution, revenge, punishment. And Lucifer had been expecting it from the moment he had used his powers to rid them of Kanundra's very real threat.

What did that mean? Could evil do good? Could the Devil - the personification of the unpardonable sin - really do the right thing?

Ezekiel poured another glass and swallowed it. He looked into the bottom of the glass, then at the bottle, and leaned forward on the bar. "Hey." The barman turned slowly. "Got a straw?"

***

Zeke guessed it was around three thirty am when he finally stumbled into his apartment, having missed his floor three times in the elevator and ended up taking the stairs up one flight. He had drunk the whole bottle of whatever it was that the barman had handed him. He was eternally grateful, and he had promised to find the bar again tomorrow to pay off the remainder of his tab. He knew the guy was going to be more than surprised to see him again. But he was like that, a good, honest demon who'd murdered a man in cold blood and then been sent to hell for... God, the story was sounding old.

Once inside his apartment, he put on some coffee and switched on the television. The viewing choice seemed to consist of an ancient black and white 'Mummy' movie, a 1960s porn film with subtitles, or the usual run of crap from the public access network. He smiled to himself and left it on as he located his one mug and served the coffee. Strong and black. It sobered him slightly, allowing him to focus on perhaps going to bed.

He switched off the television, padded into the other room and stopped. The figure was sitting on the windowsill, one leg pulled up, arms wrapped around it, chin rested on the knee, the other leg dangling. His head was dropped back against the cold wall, eyes focused somewhere outside, probably further away than the greatest visible distance. Zeke took a step closer. The Devil did not turn, did not even acknowledge his presence. He took another step.

The moonlight was streaming in through the grimy pane, playing in the jet black hair that barely touched the drooping shoulders. A strange beauty, but a beauty nonetheless. Zeke stared for a few moments, unsure. But the alcohol in his blood was making him braver, more focused than he usually would be; less inhibited. Another step.

Zeke reached out slowly and touched the soft black hair. The head turned, and golden eyes picked him out in the darkness. The Devil smiled sadly, and nodded slightly, then he turned his head and his attention again from the room. Ezekiel started a gentle stroking, combing his fingers through the hair. He didn't know what to say. What could he say? What was there to say?

Moving slowly, Zeke dropped his hand and sat down on the windowsill, minding not to sit on the Devil's foot. He rested back against the thick glass, bringing one leg up and turning his head to watch Lucifer's reflection in the window. Neither spoke.

The atmosphere between them remained charged, despite the silence. Where the teasing and the taunting and the joking stopped, the raw sensuality began. This was the Devil, sin incarnate. And his whole demeanour had shifted from tormentor to tormented. In the morning it would be another day, the events of the evening would be committed to the past. Here, now, in the darkness of the apartment and the magical light of the moon, those same events were fresh. Answers, now within his grasp, would be lost with the rising of the sun.

After a long time, Zeke lifted his head to look directly into the sparkling eyes of the human form opposite him. As if reacting to the attention, Lucifer also moved, tilting his face to regard Ezekiel. Once again, Zeke reached out and touched that irresistible black mane. The Devil did not flinch, nor blink. He didn't speak. But he did move his leg to rest his knee against the glass, allowing Ezekiel closer. Zeke shifted into the space made for him, and in the warm silence between them they both leaned forward.

Ezekiel closed his eyes as his mouth met the mouth of the other. The Devil's tongue traced the curves of his lips, slipping slowly inside. Zeke moaned softly as the hot breath mixed with his own, and the harsh tongue brushed against the roof of his mouth, across his teeth, tasting him. He felt a strong hand move around the back of his head and long fingers push up into his hair, mirroring the position of his own hand.

He could stop this now, he knew. Just pull back and stand up. It would never have happened. Everything would be as it was before this nightmare day had begun. But he didn't want that now. He wanted... something, anything. The alcohol in his blood sang to him of the sweet pleasures to be found in the body of another man. The rest of his senses were yelling that this indeed was another male form, one used by the Devil to piss his earthly servant off at every available opportunity. It didn't matter.

Zeke somehow clambered onto his knees without breaking the deep kiss. He leaned over the Devil, pushing his head back against the wall, forcing it to tilt upwards. He took the offered control, stroking his hands over the jet black hair that so enticed him, pushing his tongue further into the hot mouth consuming him.

Lucifer lowered his leg into the space that Ezekiel had left, wrapping his arms up around the body trying to crawl into his own. He pulled Zeke to him, and defying any number of physical laws, Zeke managed to straddle the Devil's thighs as the other stretched out on the long, wide windowsill. Maybe the sill had always been that size, maybe not. Nothing else mattered but the prolonged, heated contact between the two pretenders.

Ezekiel finally released Lucifer's head and moved his hands down, tracing the curve of powerful muscles beneath the expensive dark shirt the Devil wore. Both moaned at the intimate contact. Ezekiel blocked his own thoughts; he just wanted to act. Opening his eyes to look into the Devil's face, he realised his companion wanted the same. They both needed a little physical heat this night.

They broke the kiss only once to open shirts and reveal perfectly sculptured bodies. Foreheads pressed together, the room devoid of the sounds of breathing, the Devil traced fingertips over the runes, causing Ezekiel to groan and shiver. As the touch grew bolder, Zeke curved his neck to lean in to the other's and start to nip the skin on the Devil's throat with his teeth. The resulting sounds from his lover urged him on, and he kissed a path from shoulder to ear, before biting gently into the warm flesh. Lucifer's head dropped back against the wall, a long, low moan issuing forth from his throat. Zeke smiled, and moved to recapture that luxurious mouth.

They kissed for hours. Tasting, nipping, biting, teasing one another mercilessly. Ezekiel's hands roamed ceaselessly over the Devil's form, from his hair, over his neck and shoulders to the fine chest, over hardened nipples and then back. Lucifer preferred just to hold his companion close, to occasionally rub his back and comb fingers into his hair. As they continued to melt inside one another, the Devil did move his hands forward to push them inside Zeke's shirt in order to move it down, off his shoulders, exposing the runes that decorated his body to their author's ministrations. Lucifer knew the effect his touch on the symbols would have on Ezekiel, and for once he was very careful not to push too hard. His caress became light, tracing the outlines as if that alone could call the demons back.

Ezekiel reacted to the building arousal in the only way he knew. He shifted closer, bringing their hard erections together and starting a rhythmic movement that might have result in them both coming to orgasm, had they been real. But as human as they looked then, they were more. Their spirits started to weave into one another, pushing them higher.

Outside, the sun began to rise and still they remained locked together, their minds gone from the physical world that surrounded them. The closeness was something neither had experienced in too long. Zeke just wanted to feel alive. Lucifer's reasons were a million times more complicated.

Arousal starting to drive him beyond crazy, Zeke mentally started to beg, wanting more, feeling - for the first time since his return - trapped inside the human form that held him. //show me more//

Surprised at the intimate communication, the Devil trembled in his lover's embrace. His touch, his tracing of the runes on Zeke's body, became firmer, more deliberate. Instantly, Ezekiel felt the change. The low currents of sexuality became a tide; wave after wave cascading over him, building, driving him to the inevitable climax. He groaned into the Devil's mouth. //come with me//

The internal battle that had been raged within Lucifer finally came to an end. He let go, urged on by Ezekiel's words, following him to the precipice and balancing there with him.

//fall//

They both came hard, the light exploding behind closed eyes, howls of ecstasy escaping their throats as they broke the kiss to fall together.

Some time later, Zeke lifted his sweat-slicked body, leaning back in the Devil's embrace. He was sitting in the circle of the other's legs, had at some point fallen back from his initial position. Now, he unfolded his own legs and moved them both forward, hooking his ankles together against the Devil's back. It was a close position, intimate and warm. Despite having spent the night devouring Lucifer, Ezekiel found himself feeling a little uncomfortable. The Devil's gentle smile put him at ease.

For a while, they didn't speak. The only words they'd shared all night had been Zeke's rough, desperate attempt at telepathy. He would never know how deeply he had spoken to his adversary at those moments. Lucifer reached around and pulled his lover's shirt back up on his shoulders while Ezekiel played his fingers through the Devil's fine, damp hair.

Finally, the Devil spoke, his honeyed voice caressing Zeke with ease. "You are so important to me. You must remember that."

The words took Ezekiel by surprise. He could only nod. He had not known what to say before, when he had first wondered into the room and seen the beauty and mystery sitting on the windowsill. He had not a clue what to say now.

A few moments later, the Devil smiled, and extracted himself from the embrace of Ezekiel's limbs. He hesitated, and then when Zeke glanced up at him and nodded once, he walked to the door and vanished.

Ezekiel stayed for a long time at the window, watching the sunrise over his little bit of New York. When he finally looked back inside the room, he saw a message scrawled in ancient script on the far wall. Dropping to the floor, he walked over to read it.

     "There's much I want to say at this moment when all the barriers are broken and all our shields are down. Your trust in me, your constant openness and lack of revulsion leaves me breathless. Too old, these feelings that you awaken within me. It scares me to experience this with you - a lost soul, one of my lost souls. It scares me to still experience this at all. How can nothing change when everything has changed? The world never stops, Ezekiel, my fallen angel."

Beneath the last word was a signature, two letters ornately etched into the plaster. "MS"

***

"The same café! Again!" Zeke looked up as the Devil slid into the seat opposite him. He smiled his good morning and bit savagely into his toasted bacon sandwich. Lucifer chuckled. "And hungry too. Anyone would think you didn't get any sleep."

Zeke rolled his amusement-filled eyes and continued to eat. Only when he had finished, and was reaching for his coffee (the second of the morning, old habits died hard even after 15 years) did he meet the Devil's steady regard.

"I got your note." Lucifer looked away, but Ezekiel reached out and touched his hand. "Thank you, Morning Starr." Their eyes locked, and for a moment, Zeke believed he could read in the golden orbs everything that had been scrawled onto his wall; awe, gratefulness, no small measure of affection. An acknowledgement of what they had shared. And then he dropped his hand, and wrapped his fingers around the hot mug of coffee, raising it to his lips.

"So who's today's demon of the hour?"

The Devil titled his head, mouth open. "I can't just tell you."

"Then give me a clue."

Lucifer paused, and then shrugged. "All right." He leaned forward. "Let me tell you a story...."

fade out

elfin

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