When Bertrand and Grace went back inside, Don and Becca were already sleeping heavily, resounding like kids after playing all day long, Becca with her head comfortably resting over Don’s thigh, Don’s hand carefully laid atop of her head, as if he slept fondling her hair.

“These two never change, no matter how much time passes...” Grace said, with a sigh of relief.

“I don’t understand, though.” Bertrand hushed back.

“What don’t you understand, my boy?”

“I mean... You’re... Like... Belial, the demon king. Right?”

“Yes?”

“He’s Purson, also a demon king...”

“Yes...?”

“And Becca is an angel... So...”

“How do we get to be capable of actually loving one another?”

“Well... Yes...” Bertrand felt ashamed by his own question, his cheeks flushed by the sudden realisation.

When he mentioned Jacob to Donnovan, the latter didn’t question him about anything other than if Jake was his boyfriend, without any sound of bias in his voice.

And there was Bertrand, judging him, Grace, and Becca, for what they weren’t capable of choosing. Instead of looking at what they did choose.

“It’s very unexpected, yes” Grace answered, her hushed voice carrying such a deep and calm tone, that it surprised him. “In the beginning, I really thought that angels and demons were like cats and dogs, but to my surprise, I found out that it all comes down to belief. Like sides on a chessboard, they’re only there while the game is on.”

While Grace spoke, Bertrand paid close attention to her words.

It was as if everything he ever believed as a religious person, was wrong. Growing up in a catholic school and learning about how wicked demons were, always tempting humans to sin and dealing with them for their souls.

He never thought, even for a single moment, about if it all was actually right or not.

But there was Grace.

Belial, to be more precise.

Telling him about love, and about how a demon could actually love an angel. But not like a lover, no.

Like family.

And so she went on.

“When we found her, we didn’t know what she was, because she lost her grace when she fell from Eden. And it made her look like just any other ordinary human, fragile and sensitive. Vulnerable even. Since Donnovan and I wanted peace, she came as a sign for us. A sign that we’d be able to achieve that peace. Because she became part of it, of our regular lives as Grace and Don. And then, when we found out she could see other demons, we started realising that she might not be completely human. Don’t get me wrong here, she’ll always be a human for us, only a much stronger and powerful human than the others. But still, not a regular one. When we found out she could be an angel, by the time she started gathering her memories back, of course it startled us. I mean, how not? We were demons and she had the strong possibility of being born a natural enemy to us, but love is a decision. And since she probably felt that we weren’t human from the very beginning, but still chose to give us love and acceptance, we decided we could still love her... That’s when I found out that real love has no boundaries, no limits, no shape. Like sides in a war. They’re there only while the war is happening.”

Bertrand felt utterly flabbergasted by her words, which showed wisdom far beyond humans, demons, angels, or even something bigger than them all.

He went to sleep with those words surrounding his thoughts...

And woke up to find that Becca’s farewell had been quick as the letter she left to him and Don.

We’ll meet again in no time.

But in the meantime, don’t die you two.

P.s.: Thank you for becoming such a special person in my life in such a short period of time B.

Purson gave Bertrand a stern, judging glare.

“If you break her heart, I swear I’ll keep you breathing enough to feel pain for the rest of your life. You feel me?”

Bertrand looked back at the demon king, a mix of dumbfoundedness and confusion in his face.

“What? Wait...” The detective then realised what Purson meant. “No! No, she isn’t in love with me. Is she?”

His expression became even more dumbfounded, but he couldn’t suppress the silly smile that appeared playfully in his lips.

***

Mathew watched the young woman slowly open her eyes, effortfully trying to get a grip on her reality.

“So you’re finally awake. Good...” Mathew said, a playful wicked smile sprouting in his lips.

“Urgh...” She groaned, not able to say much more. But when she came a bit more to her senses, realised that once more she was restrained.

But only that, this time, she wasn’t capable of moving a single muscle.

“Yes. How does it feel... To be in the shoes of the one you cold bloodedly murdered with this?” He asked, showing the black crowbar in his hands.

“What... What are you... Talking about...?”

Mathew clenched his fists and bit his lip so hard, it bled a little. But soon after, the wound and the blood vanished, evaporating with the heat that emanated from his body.

“DON’T PLAY FOOL WITH ME YOU FUCKING PSYCHO!” Mathew shouted as he slammed his crowbar on the floor, blowing a large hole through the floor tiles.

The girl flinched ever so slightly, but not as slightly for Mathew not to notice. Which made him continue on with his speech.

“I know you killed my dad, but I’m not like you. My vengeance will be as fair as it can get, and I just wanted you to feel like my dad felt when you tied him to a chair and SLAMMED HIM TO DEATH! No... I’ll free you, so that you have a chance to fight back.”

He snapped his fingers, and the ropes erupted in flames, vanishing from around the young woman as if never being there to begin with.

***

Uriel stood up as soon as the ropes caught fire and turned to ashes.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? ARE YOU A DEMON TOO? IF YES, THEN YEAH... I may have killed your father. BUT SO WHAT? YOU DEMONS DESERVE ALL TO DIE!”

The blow came faster than she could even think of noticing, and the crowbar hit her right over her wrist.

The world became a new unknown vastness of pain and stars, Uriel’s shriek echoing loudly as she held back the tears, trying to focus beyond the stars that shone in front of her eyes.

“ARGH! I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if you want a piece of me, YOU’LL HAVE TO COME AND GET IT YOU BASEMENT PIECE OF SHIT!” She shouted, arming her fight stance and charging at the demon towards her.

***

Now that’s more like it. Mathew thought to himself, seeing the young woman charging like a wild bull towards him.

His eyes could see everything, even her core.

The living essence of an angelic being.

He didn’t understand what it meant, but he knew as soon as the bright light in the place where a human heart should be, that if he stabbed her right there with his weapon, she’d be dead for good.

But the young man wanted to take his time.

Vengeance is best served cold, the saying went, and he wanted to have his served as cold as a corpse in a morgue.

So his strike went smoothly and deadly fast to the young woman’s forearm, along with a quick spin that allowed him to easily evade her charge.

Her scream echoed in his ears, sounding like music as he recalled his father’s screams on his death chair.

“What?” Mathew asked. “Isn’t the pain motivation enough for you to actually come at me with some real killing intent?”

***

“SHUT UP YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Uriel screamed, turning back to him and standing her ground, trying to study his opponent.

If only I had my grace, things would be easier. She thought, complaining to herself, but then she slapped herself internally.

Despite the pain, she was still Uriel. The mighty Judge of Flames, who hunted demon kings for breakfast and presented one of the biggest threats to Sheol.

She shouldn’t be complaining as long as she breathed.

All she had to do was to keep fighting, until her essence was completely extinguished.

She inhaled deeply, took a step, and then everything became clearer.

Bright as day, she saw the demon raising the crowbar to strike at his shoulder and started moving to evade it.

It wouldn’t be as easy for him as he could be thinking.

However, she felt a blinding pain on her other shoulder right after thinking she avoided the strike.

Not being able to hold back her tears anymore, she shrieked desperately as her left arm fell alongside her, dead and useless.

Her broken shoulder burning in pain like she never felt up until then.

***

“So you really can’t fight, huh?” Mathew sneered. “I guess it can’t be helped. You really only killed my father because he was defencelessly tied to a chair. You’re nothing but a coward.” He said, breaking her right arm, and then her left leg, making the young woman stumble to the floor like a sack of meat.

“Oh” he kept going. “And don’t you EVER call my mom a bitch again.”

He attacked again, and again, and once more, breaking legs, ankles, arms, ribs, shoulders.

Mathew wanted to make her feel exactly the way his dad felt when dying. So he properly took his time and enjoyed her screams.

She was sobbing, crying violently and her body was trembling ever so slightly, as if having a seizure. Her eyes were begging something to him, but Mathew couldn’t understand, because of the blinding wrath he felt.

Until he felt a warm hand over his shoulder.

“WHO DARES TO INTERRUPT...” He started reprimanding the one behind him while turning to see who else was going to die that day. But then...

“Dad...?”

Jeremy stood right in front of Mathew.

His eyes were full of tears, and gleaming with sadness.