Coffee with a Devil Part Five
coffee with a devil
A Story in Serial - Part Five
This is part five of the serial story I’m currently writing. If you have not read the story from the beginning, you might want to go check out part one first. Click here to read it now. This is a story you get to help me write by providing your feedback in the comments or by sending me a message through my Contact page. If I like your ideas, they might just end up in the story, or I might name one of the characters after you!
Abaddon gripped the edge of the table and clenched his teeth. His body shook with rage, which made the table shake, and he vaguely noticed that the water in the human’s hand was now shaking. The look of shock on the miserable wretch’s face was almost enough to assuage Abaddon’s fury, but almost bore no meaning to creatures like him.
He let his hand slip away from the table and forced himself to take a deep breath. He heard the clicking of the ever-vexatious imp’s feet and jerked his head to the side. Corsis jumped back and instinctively hissed. Several others stepped back, giving themselves distance from Abaddon and whatever might happen should he decide to lash out against Corsis.
The imp spoke after a moment. “Shall we kill the messenger, lord?”
Abaddon looked back to the human and practically screamed a “yes” when he saw the man take a sip of the water. But, the demon knew, cooler heads must prevail. If it was only a messenger, he was not likely to be as alone as he appeared to be. Only a fool begins a battle without knowing the enemy he faces. No, he thought, let the cowardly messenger have his parlor tricks. The human was ready to break, and no amount of water or any other symbol placed before him was going to change that. They had won. Keeping the angels busy with minor skirmishes had been an effective strategy, leaving this human on his own for days.
The weak human. Not a single prayer had escaped his lips in months. Not so much as the peeling back of the cover of the accursed book. No gathering with the other wretches. No song upon his heart.
Abaddon smiled. “No, Corsis.” He stood. “Let the messenger think his efforts make a difference. It is so generous of heaven to send us another to torture.” He licked his lips and chuckled to himself as the human pushed the water away and hung his head. The demon turned and looked into the kitchen where the waiter was working behind a counter.
The waiter paused from his work and looked up. There was no fear in his eyes as their gazes locked. This one was weak, Abaddon thought. Feigning power with tricks. Were a battle to begin, he would flee and hide, just as he was hiding in the guise of a human waiter. He enjoyed the irony: Abaddon and his soldiers were supposed to the corrupt ones, but the only one deceiving anyone in that moment was supposedly a messenger from the holiest of holies. He smiled, relishing the moment, knowing he had taken the upper-hand simply by doing nothing.
The waiter kept his gaze focused on Abaddon but reached down to grab something. Abaddon watched this with feigned disinterest; suddenly he was acutely aware that there was something more to this one’s guise. The demon’s warrior instincts were beginning to take over, his senses becoming more alert as the messenger’s arm rose above the counter.
Something metallic cleared the edge of the counter. The messenger lifted it, stepping back, and hoisting it so that it was poised at an angle in front of him. Moments before flames appeared and rose along its edge, Abaddon registered that it was a longsword. He felt his eyes widen as he reached to his side for his own sword. Before he could acknowledge what he was saying, Corsis blurted the truth.
“An archangel!” Corsis screamed unintelligibly after that, and a cacophonous rumbling broke out amongst Abaddon’s soldiers.
Abaddon swallowed down a lump in his throat and turned to the human. He needed to make sure. Something told him to turn. Viggo was holding the glass to his lips once more. He took a long drink and then held the glass away from his face, observing the obviously refreshing liquid with the slightest hint of a smile edging into the corners of his eyes and mouth. Abaddon turned and prepared to draw his sword. His jaw nearly dropped at what he saw.
The archangel was back to his work as a waiter, slicing something behind the counter and whistling to himself. He continued to work but glanced up long enough to smile and wink at the demon. Abaddon closed his eyes and growled. He took a deep breath and then opened his eyes...and found himself standing, alone, in a forest.
To be continued…