Chapter 12: Essence

**Zachiel**

Once again, I see my demon dog while she sleeps. This time I'm doing it in the comfort of my living room. She's restless and probably already feeling the effects of phase two. I sit on my couch to enjoy watching her now, at my convenience.

Her essence is something completely different. I knew it all along, but I needed her to prove herself worthy, and the punishment I gave her in the process was worth every second of her discomfort. She is a stubborn creature and needs to be reminded of who owns her. Her face, as Stanford watched her pleasuring herself, was an image of rage and humiliation. The best kind.

It aroused me much more than I wanted, and only the unpleasant mental image of Stanford using his fingers on her helped me regain focus on the task at hand. I think about the pain I felt when she fled, struggling and trying to break away from me for the second time. But I let her go, knowing that if she managed to return to Earth, it would be worth another look, and she would potentially be the one for this life. And she did.

I took great joy in bringing her back to my domain and locking her in solitary confinement for seven months. Her torment was pure pleasure for me, and I savored every second of her frustration, waiting to see if she would break. But once again, she defied the odds I placed against her and seemed to thrive instead of withering. That’s when I knew it was time to officially choose her and truly test her.

"My sovereign." Vaska, my current fling, calls me. "Come back to bed." I ignore her. I have no desire to be with her at this moment. I want to keep an eye on Axelle, to see if she survives the night.

She’s tossing, throwing her arms above her head. She’s sweating profusely; I can see the drops of sweat on her forehead as I zoom in on her projection. Her face is frowning as she throws off the sheets because of the fever, only to pull them back over herself when the chills start.

I’m a bit amused to see her suffering. It almost makes me want to go to her and increase her discomfort just to see if she can handle it, but I can’t mess with her right now. She is too precious to me.

Vaska calls me again. I frown at the interruption.

"This big bed is so empty," Vaska says slowly as she enters the living room, completely naked and smelling like a dog in heat.

I glance over her ebony skin, but I find that now it does nothing for me. I was over her after two days. She must see my blank look and knows her end has come.

"My lord," she says, raising her hands. "We are good together; don’t do this."

I have no more words for her. She was a good enough lay while it lasted, but now I have more important concerns. Axelle is starting to tremble violently and seems to be following the same path as the last one.

I sigh. No one, except my dear Jezebelle, has managed to get past phase two.

"Darius," I say calmly.

My personal bodyguard appears silently from the shadows. "Take care of this, yes?" I don’t take my eyes off Axelle as I block out my ex-lover's screams as Darius attacks her, tearing her to pieces with blood and violence before consuming her essence.

Darius is special. An essence eater is a rarity, and I ensure he’s well-fed and happy. This is the third woman this week I discard, and Darius’s power is at its peak at this moment. He’ll need a release very soon.

"Go to the dungeons and find a piece to unleash it on." I instruct my demon guard distractedly.

"Sir." Darius grunts in appreciation and disappears to find a new, weak soul to unleash his depravities on.

I would normally bring Darius's chosen one’s rape and torture to the public, but tonight I’m fascinated by the scene on the wall. Axelle is still struggling; her body is thrashing around the bed. Her demon essence is trying to break free from her human form, to escape the agony, but this is the moment of truth. This is where all my bitches, except one, have died, withering into an unrecognizable form before their essence dissipated into the void.

I watch with slight disgust as she vomits to the side of the bed, but this sparks my interest. I sit up and look closer. I'm on the edge of my seat, almost clasping my hands in joy as I see her crawl from the bed to the bathroom to empty her stomach contents. She survived.

Once again, she took what I gave her and won.

A broad smile crosses my face as I sit and watch her rinse her mouth and then clean herself up. She recovers even faster than Jezebelle, and this ignites a burning lust in me that I cannot avoid. I’m hard, and I almost wish Vaska hadn’t been dispatched before. No matter. I'll take another whore to fulfill my orders. She can suck me while I continue to watch my treasure enter phase three with the new strength granted to her so she can complete her task.

**Nerina**

"Dammit." I groan as I fall out of bed with all the grace of a fish out of water. Never in my entire demonic life have I felt this terrible. My mouth feels like a bird relieved itself in it, and my skin is prickly and restless. The upside is the burning sensation on my wrist has subsided, though the bronze bracelet still dangles from my arm.

"Damn Devil," I mutter as I make coffee and step into the shower once again, washing off the sweat and grime from myself.

“Any chance I can call in sick?” I ask my coffee mug as I start to get dressed.

“No,” says Roberta, opening the apartment door and walking right in.

“Manners!” I reply, quickly covering my chest with my shirt. “This is my house.”

House? Well, I suppose it is now, and I’d better get used to it.

Roberta sneers at me. “All of this, including you, belongs to the Devil. I have authority over all assets in our master's Domain.”

“So that gives you the right to just barge in whenever you want?” I ask her sourly.

“Yes.” Roberta says, planting her large body on my very messy bed. “Would you like to try tidying up a bit? This place is a pigsty.”

I want to tell this sloppy woman where to go after my night in the depths of Hell, but I keep my mouth shut and turn my back to continue getting dressed.

“Nice bracelet,” Roberta comments after a moment.

I turn around, catching the hint of jealousy in her voice. “Don’t think this is going to win me any favors with you.”

I notice a slight tone of fear in Roberta’s voice, which worries me. “I don’t even know what it’s for,” I murmur, irritated that everyone seems to know except me.

Roberta just sniffs.

I tilt my head. She doesn’t know either. In fact, I’d bet the twins don’t know, either. They probably know as much as I do, which is that Zachiel performed some ritual with me for some unknown reason.

“Well, Zachiel thinks I’m special.” I brag.

Roberta narrows her eyes at hearing the Devil's first name. The look of envy almost makes the ordeal I went through last night worth it. Even the gut-wrenching cramps and the terrible headache I suffered after vomiting up a bunch of piglets.

“Yes, he does,” Roberta says quietly, lowering her eyes to my astonishment.

Taken aback by this sudden turn, I look at her and ask, “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I’m here to give you this,” Roberta declares, gesturing to the kitchen.

The next moment, there’s a breakfast feast spread in front of me, some of which makes my empty stomach twist in protest. I put a hand over my mouth and turn away. “Why?” I mumble.

“My master asked me,” says Roberta, and that’s clearly all she needs.

“Again, why?” I ask, having regained control of my stomach.

Roberta just shrugs. “Eat now; you have work to do.” With that, Roberta gets up from the bed and vanishes in a flash of light.

I stare longingly at the space Roberta had occupied. It’s not fair that she can just do that. I look back at the spread of food and decide there’s no way my stomach can handle anything right now, but maybe some things will keep for later when I get hungry.

I fill a bag with croissants and the like, slipping my feet into my shoes.

“Back to work,” I mutter, hoping Zachiel will appear and tell me I’m too important for the menial tasks of Entry Management now.

I’m not that lucky. I manage to work without any visit from the Devil.

As I sit at my uncomfortable desk, I wouldn’t even mind if Stanford showed up to drag me out of this nightmare.

Remembering his long, creepy fingers and large, bulging eyes, I shiver and think better of it. However, now that I’m back to work in my gray, monotonous room with no external distractions, I also remember having seen Zachiel’s true form. Though it terrified me when he was performing the ritual, I now find it quite sexy. Even more so, considering he revealed himself to me, and my eyes remained unscathed and my mind intact.

The light turns on above my head, and I turn to the little window with a sigh.

The Reaper on the other side hands me his parchment without a word. I don’t bother trying to make small talk this time. I’m too busy daydreaming about Zachiel and our, well, whatever it is we have now.

After a few hours, I start feeling hungry, so I reach into my bag of treats and pull out a croissant. It’s light, buttery, and delicious. I’m halfway through when I’m interrupted by a Reaper.

Bored again by this point, I smile at the Reaper. “Oh, hi, Jacob,” I say, checking the scroll to find his name. His hood is so low I couldn’t tell who it was.

Jacob grunts at me, but it doesn’t deter me.

“Having a good day?” I ask while looking over the soul’s temperament.

“What?” he snaps after a moment.

“I asked if you’re having a good day.” I repeat slowly. Is he stupid or something?

“Don’t talk to me, administrator bitch,” he growls.

Wow, okay. I knew Reapers were a rude, clingy bunch, but that was a bit cruel when I was being so nice. I decide to push back a little.

“Hmm, your soul looks very sad to be here,” I say, putting on a falsely sad face for Jacob.

Jacob’s hand clenches into a fist. Sad souls are the worst for a Reaper; they’re pushed to the end of the activity queue, which reflects poorly on the Reaper who brought them.

“No, he isn’t,” Jacob says threateningly. “He’s perfectly happy to be here.”

“Doesn’t look that way from where I’m sitting,” I tease, twirling my pen in the soul’s direction.

The soul looks at me, confused and maybe a little intrigued, but not sad at all.

Jacob pushes his hood back slightly and glares at me with his coal-black eyes. “If you mark him as sad, you’ll regret betraying me, bitch,” he snarls.

“Geez, relax,” I say cheerfully, marking the soul as ‘interested.’

Jacob gives me a nasty smile as I send the scroll away, and he walks off with his soul in tow, thinking he’s won over me.

I stick my tongue out at his back. Then, I pick up my half-eaten croissant and, with all the force I can muster, throw it into the darkness, hoping to hit my target.

“Ow.” A sullen cry comes from the darkness.

I smile triumphantly and wipe my hands, only to get hit in the face by my croissant a moment later.

“Hey!” I retort, brushing crumbs off my face. “Jerk!”

“Bitch!” comes the distant reply.

“Humph,” I mumble, picking up the remaining crumbs of the croissant and tossing them in the trash.

“Not to your liking?” Zachiel asks as I close the little window.

I spin on my stool and grin at him. He’s wearing a black suit and a white shirt. He looks very sexy. Too bad he’s not as much of a monster in bed as I’d hoped he would be.

“I got into a fight,” I say lightly, leaning forward to show him my cleavage.

He ignores my flirtation, frowning instead. “Did you eat this morning?” he asks quickly.

I sit back. “A little. Why did you send me all that food?”

“You need to keep your strength up,” he says, his bright blue eyes focused on the bronze bracelet.

“For what?”

His gaze returns to mine, and he smiles mysteriously. “You’ll see,” he says.

“Soon?” I ask hopefully.

Zachiel shrugs indifferently, and I give up. I’m not going to get anything out of him today.

“I want to thank you,” I murmur, lowering my eyes seductively.

“For what?” he asks.

“For showing me your true self.” I answer, looking up again.

He stares into my eyes so fiercely that I feel my brain turn to mush. “My true self?” he asks without any hint of emotion.

I nod carefully. He doesn’t seem to know he revealed himself to me.

“What did you see?” he asks in a low voice, licking his lips.

“A creature with fiery eyes and twisted horns as big as my arms,” I say.

“Oh.” He chuckles after a moment. “No, my dear. That isn’t my true self.”

“It’s not?” I ask, deflated.

“You’re not strong enough to witness the ruler of Hell,” he says with a cruel smile.

“Well,” I say with a sniff. “It wasn’t that impressive, anyway.”