"When I bow down to pray

I try to make the worst seem better."

- Lady Gaga, Million Reasons

In fact Slate seems to be good at it. His dark brown eyes, so dark that it really looks black, are focused on the hotdogs being fried across the oiled frying pan. Fabian casually sitting on the comfortable and probably expensive sofa he has in the living room, watching whatever show is on the television. Slate is concentrated, not bothering to speak and utter a single word. His eyes are glued on the pan, and the fire is set to low. Even if I was born an angel, I know how cooking works for mortals. I have knowledge when it comes to these matters.

Back in the day, when I was 9 years of age, I had a tutor once. Her name was Martha. She had this long brown hair, cascading in curls, shoulder level. Her eyes were as blue as the morning sky, and the way she spoke would make your heart melt; she was like singing when she spoke. I loved listening to her, and I loved being tutored by her. If something bothered me, she was the first one to notice so I had no choice but to tell her the whole story, leaving no detail, even it's just a small one. Even though she was living her golden age, she was so always beautiful. Every day she was in the castle to tutor me, until one day she didn't. I remember asking my parents – the King and Queen – about that, but they did not give me any answer. I kept asking them until I got to the point that I got tired and ever since then Martha's name is never uttered again in the castle. Martha was gone like a wind, and I never have a clue as to why she disappeared suddenly. I keep asking myself where she has gone, and I can't think of possible answers.

Martha told me a lot of things about Earth – their environment, their nature, their beauty, and how things work here on Earth. I was amazed when she told me that. I learned a new thing on Earth, about mortals, and that excited me. Léandre and I listened as we were the good listeners of her. Léandre was always with me, and sometimes he was not present at my tutoring session. Léandre is a knowledge-seeker, and he loves knowing things. That was the reason why he got sent to Earth to hunt demons, because he knows how mortal humans act and their nature. But even if I have a lot of knowledge when it comes to humans, my parents see a different thing; they think I don't have enough knowledge to handle things, and their example is why I do know what love is. Because I am the Angel of Love, and I'm supposed to know it.

I, Angel of Love, Hadraniel Adrian Stars, know nothing about love.

"Done!" Slate announces, beaming brightly at his work. For a moment he looks like a human with no trace of evilness, but every time I look into his eyes, which are almost black if you don't take a look closer, it reminds me that he's a demon who could kill me in a second.

Fabian is now shirtless, and I'm left star-struck by his appearance. He seems shocked when he stares at the fried hotdogs because surprisingly the demon did not burn them. I don't know which to look at – shirtless Fabian or the not-burnt hotdogs? My eyes focus on the shirtless Fabian, and apparently the demon notices because he whacks me at the back of my head which wakes me from reverie. Slate is scowling at me, and if I were a kid, it would seem to me like he's about to scold me for making a sin. His scowl reminds me of something.

The mortal curses. I almost tell him that it's not good to curse until I remember my mother, who likes to point things out whenever I curse. I miss my mother so much. I wish she were here to guide me. I don't even know if she's watching me, and if she does, I hope that she's not appointed that I'm with a demon, doing nothing but to obey his commands.

Both Slate and Fabian share a knowing look that leaves me out, as if they have been friends ever since they were a kid. I know, because Léandre was giving me the same look before when we knew that we knew something that the others didn't.

The thought of killing him actually hasn't crossed my mind since the first time I've met him, but thanks for reminding me. I was supposed to kill him, Slate told me earlier before we got inside Fabian's house. Fabian seems really a good guy. I don't know why he has become a friend of a demon – or are they really friends? – but there must be a good story to this. I'm not sure if Slate considers him as his friend. For all I know he's already planning and talking with his co-creatures to let the other demons to kill Fabian mercilessly.

"Let's eat." Fabian announces. He whirls around, grabs three forks in the wooden cabinet, hands me one and the other to Slate, and the demon stabs one piece of hotdog and takes a huge bite. He moans out loud. Fabian does the same thing, and hums and nods in approval upon tasting the hotdog. I look at the hotdogs for a couple of seconds. I haven't eaten a hotdog yet but Léandre had told me it tasted delicious; he also told me that some of the hotdogs have different flavors such as cheesy hotdogs, or bacon wrapped around hotdogs. I don't know what bacon is.

So we decide to eat and munch the hotdogs Slate fried while we're standing in the kitchen. It looks weird to me that a demon, a mortal, and a punished angel are bonding over fried hotdogs and a story of a burnt hotdogs Slate made the first time he cooked.

After we're done eating, we head back to the living room to watch television shows I don't even know. It's a comedy, according to Fabian, but I don't find anything on the television show comedic. In fact it seems weird to me that I watch mortal shows, which never happened before. So we continue watching, side by side together, our eyes trained on the show, and there's a sudden building on my lower abdomen and I groan. I hold my crotch, and Fabian points the direction of the nearest restroom he has in his house. Slate just looks at me for a couple of seconds and sets his eyes back on the show. He's a weird demon.

I head to the direction where Fabian pointed where the nearest bathroom is, then I take a left turn to the hallway that has a glittering lights placed on the ceiling. The walls are painted a color of light green, or lime green, I'm not sure; I don't know how to distinguish. Then I take another turn to the right, which leads to another hallway but this time it has doors now. On the side right side is not a wall made of cement but rather a glass – a see-through glass. The outside can be seen; the sun is still soaring high in the sky, and outside looks like freedom to me. I sigh. I check one by one the room and find the restroom just at the end of the hallway, and on the right side is a doorway that has stairs that lead to the second level of the house. I trudge my way inside the restroom and see that everything is in place. There's an open window, just at the top of the toilet, and a thought pops up inside my head: try one more time.

So I waste no more time. Climbing up on the toilet, on the closed lid, I stretch out my arms and my fingers curl into the windowsill, then I push myself up and go through the rectangle window. Half-way through, I push myself, putting my palm on the walls and stretching my arms out more. I land on the ground with a smack, and I groan but quickly shut myself up.

When I look on my leg, there's a gash sliding just beneath my knees up to the back of my leg. It's thin, but the blood is starting to pour out. I hiss in pain once I touch it and then hoist myself up, starting to run.

Blood has a huge effect on demons. They can smell blood even when they are too far away, so sooner or later, or in a few minutes, Slate will come flying in front of me and then he'll kill me right then and there. But I don't stop running. In fact that urges me more to continue running and never stop. There's a hope inside me that never dies.

I reach the road, and when I take a look over my shoulder, the house is just a dot figure in my eyesight. I have probably run for so long, but Slate hasn't come yet. I almost grin if it weren't for the vehicle driving my direction, so I have to jump, flinging my hands up in the air, and yelp out loud. That's near. The vehicle never stops. The vehicle moves so fast that it nearly hit me. I stand up, dust myself off, and check the wound on my leg. It's still bleeding. I wipe it out with my thumb, and I hiss.

It has been an hour, and yet vehicles keep going in my way, never stopping. It makes me suspicious of everything and I question myself – am I being played? I turn around, scan my area, but find nothing suspicious other than the guy smoking something, trying to hide what he's doing. He's just located in a corner, near the isolated alley. A vase of flower has broken into a million pieces just beside me, and I yelp. If it weren't for the man who pushed me accidentally, the vase would have landed on my head. I look up, but there's nothing suspicious. I narrow my eyes.

There's a knife that has been thrown my way.

There's a dog who nearly lapped me out.

Everything makes me run. I don't know if I'm just hallucinating (now that I have a mortal thought, or I'm just thinking that I have a mortal brain) or if I'm really being played at. After I left the house of Fabian, accidents, which don't really look as a type of accident to me, keep happening to me.

"What's happening?" I ask myself, groaning.

I take a left turn, then I see an isolated and dark alley. I head in. Though I'm not comfortable at entering the alley, it seems like it's the safest place for me. I walk further into the alley, and that's when I hear a laugh – a vicious woman laugh. I turn around and my eyes go wide when I see a dark beings, having a figure of a woman with long black hair, smiling maniacally at me. I take a step back. The women, whose skin is black, almost a void, are staring at me with their gnashing teeth and claws. I can see their thirst for a blood of a mortal, and my heart races. For a moment we just stare at each other, and then I scream when they start to lunge at me.

As they lunge at me, I shut my eyes and just keep screaming and then I stop when I feel another presence just in front of me. I open my eyes and see Slate, completely in his demon form and I let out a loud yelp. He looks at me over his shoulder, and I see the two horns protruding from his temple. His fangs are also showing. The only reason why I recognize him is because of his dark brown eyes, which are almost black, but something tells me that those eyes belong to Slate.

"Forneus," one of the dark beings hisses, staring straight at Slate, who she called Forneus. The name replays inside my head like a broken record. I feel like I have heard that name before. "The boy is ours."

"Keres," Slate says, his voice dark, deep. If you hear his voice, it sounds like his voice is covered with all of the sins in the world, mixed with deadly poisons, but for some reason, I like it. "They are spirits of violent or cruel death. Anaplekte, nice to see you again. By the way, Adrian, this is a Ker who likes creatures to have a quick and painful death. Meet the others; Akhlys, the mist of death; Stygere, the hateful one; and Ker itself, the destructive one. Their other sister is not present, which named Nosos, the Ker who gives painful and unbearable deseases." Ah.

"I don't care! Kill those!" I hide behind the demon. I almost wrap my arms around him out of fear, but stop myself from doing so. "Or I don't know! Just keep those things away from me! They were probably the one who did those things earlier! I promise I'll never attempt to escape again and I'll stick by your side and I swear by the name of God and all the angels! And this is a powerful promise!" I cry out.

The demon – Slate – smirks. "As you wish, my angel." Then he lunges himself at the Keres.