Damned If You Do

  “Oh holy smoke!” Seth backed up again and ran into a tree, his strange not-quite sight in the woods failing him for the first time in Abaddon’s presence. “Are you— Oh man, is this a joke, Abaddon? I want the truth now! Stop playing with me!”

  “I told you the truth the first time I met you. I’m a devil.”

  “You can’t be.”

  “But I am. Think about it. You knew I was here, didn’t you? And how else could I have found you?”

  “No.” Seth shook his head again. Then, louder, “No! You’re lying to me!”

  “I’m not lying.”

  “But—”

  “‘And the Lord said unto Satan, Whence comest thou?’”

  Seth took a deep breath, then another, finding strength in what he knew and understood. “‘Then Satan answered the Lord, and said, From going to and fro in the Earth, and from walking up and down in it.’”

  “Exactly.”

  “Oh, holy cow.” Seth bent over, his hands on his knees, as if he might be sick. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “I never lied to you about what I was.”

  “I figured it was a joke. Or maybe a metaphor. I don’t know. Like you were warning me that you had unholy intentions.”

  Abaddon almost laughed. “‘Unholy intentions’? What the hell does that mean?”

  The tips of Seth’s ears turned pink. “Nothing.” He ran his fingers through his hair and stood straight. “What do you want from me? Are you here to kill me?”

  “No. Nothing like that.”

  “Are you here to steal my soul?”

  Abaddon hesitated, hating the twinge of guilt he felt. “Yes.”

  “I won’t ever give it to you. Especially not now.”

  Abaddon feared that might be true. Part of him still hoped to change Seth’s mind, but part of him rejoiced in the thought that Seth’s soul might be out of reach. But how could he explain that to Seth when he barely even understood it himself? “Maybe I just wanted to see you.”

  “But if you’re a devil, you’re probably lying to me. ‘Ye are of your father the devil, and the lusts of your father ye will do.’”

  Oh, how right he was. And yet how wrong, at the same time. “I was once a man like you, you know.”

  Seth’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “You were?”

  “I made a deal with the devil, just like you did the first time we met. The difference is, I lost.”

  “What did you bargain for? What did you want that was worth your soul?”

  “I wish I knew.” Abaddon tilted his head back, seeking the sky as if it could offer an explanation, but it was mostly lost in the dense trees. “I don’t remember it. They take that all away when you cross over. But I know that’s what happened.”

  “So you came for my soul originally, but you’ve decided now you don’t want it?”

  He sounded almost amused. Abaddon felt that twinge of guilt again, along with the weight of his unreached quota. How could he explain that he longed for Seth’s soul the way a starving man craved food, and yet for the first time ever, he had the strength to deny his own need? “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  One corner of Seth’s mouth curved upward in a skeptical grin. “But you’re a devil, right? I can’t possibly trust you.”

  “You can.” Abaddon felt the truth of the statement in some deep corner of his heart. “I couldn’t say that about anybody else in the world, but I can’t lie to you. You have some power over me I can’t explain. You’re brighter than the North Star, and the thought of extinguishing that…” He shook his head. “I want your soul, but I’m not sure I can do it. I’m not sure I could live with myself afterwards.” And yet he’d have to, for all of eternity. There was no reprieve from Hell.

  Seth considered that, his head cocked sideways. Abaddon waited, his heart in his throat. Finally, Seth said, “Huh.”

  After what had felt like a momentous admission, it was a surprisingly mundane response. “What does that mean?”

  “I wish I could see you, so I could tell if you’re laughing at me or not.”

  Power surged in Abaddon’s heart, pulsing through his veins, down his limbs. His fingertips tingled with it. “I’ve laughed at you before when you threw bible verses at me,” he confessed, his voice hoarse, “but not now. Not for this.” He took one slow step toward Seth. Then another.

  Seth must have heard him approach, because he backed up, holding up his hands as if to ward Abaddon off. “What are you doing?”

  “I won’t hurt you.” He couldn’t have, even if the rules allowed it. He was overwhelmed by the tenderness that filled him. There was something so wonderful about knowing that Seth knew him for what he really was, and yet seeing Seth still standing there, not asking for anything at all. Just waiting, as if having a little chat with a devil on a bright Sunday morning in the deep woods of Alabama was the most natural thing in the world.

  Abaddon caught Seth’s wrist to keep him still so he could move closer, reeling at the sensation that simple contact caused. Seth was trembling, and Abaddon stopped short, his fingertips an inch from Seth’s cheek. “Are you ready?”

  Seth’s Adam’s apple bobbed. When he spoke, his voice was tight. “For what?”

  “To see.”

  “Wh-what?” Tears brimmed in Seth’s eyes. “You can do that?”

  But Abaddon didn’t bother to answer. He couldn’t. He couldn’t think beyond the eagerness that filled him, being so near Seth and having a gift he could present, like some kind of offering. His throat was tight, and for a minute, he could only stare at Seth’s trusting face. It was all he could do to keep from kissing him, pulling him close, sliding his hand inside Seth’s shirt and feeling the soft skin of his lower back as they tasted each other.

  But he resisted the urge.

  He laid his palm against Seth’s cheeks instead, the tips of his first two fingers on Seth’s temple.

  And he let the power flow.

  It took only a second, and then Seth gasped. He didn’t move his head—he held perfectly still—but his eyes moved rapidly, scanning back and forth, seeking a point of focus. “Ohh…” More tears pooled in his eyes, and finally, his gaze settled on Abaddon’s face. “You weren’t lying. I really can see.”

  It was hard to make his throat work. “Yes.”

  “Will it last?”

  He could have done it in exchange for a soul, but as a favor? That simply wasn’t allowed. He was already bending the rules. “No. I’m sorry. That’s beyond my power.”

  “It’s okay. This is enough. Just seeing the trees again is enough.”

  Seth looked around again, taking in the forest and the thin patch of sky and the sunlight dappling the ground before returning to Abaddon. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks, coming to rest on Abaddon’s hand, where it cradled Seth’s cheek. They felt like ice against his flesh, and yet he longed to feel more of them. He had a sudden and irrational urge to taste them. He moved his thumbs to wipe at them as best he could without breaking contact with Seth’s temples.

  “Oh, Abaddon,” Seth said, his brow creasing with a frown. “Your eyes.” He reached up with one hand and laid his fingers against Abaddon’s cheek.

  That tiny bit of contact made Abaddon’s blood roar in his ears. He felt the full strength of Seth’s soul in that touch. The purity of his heart. The undeniable weight of concern.

  Concern for a devil.

  Abaddon’s mouth watered. The soul hunger stabbed all the way to his core. The urge to consume the boy whole, to drag him through the abyss and drink the sheer power that lingered in his heart was overwhelming, and Abaddon pulled away quickly, stumbling backward. He found himself bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath just as Seth had done earlier.

  “What happened?” Seth asked.

  Abaddon shook his head, then realized Seth wa
s blind again. He couldn’t see the gesture. “Nothing.”

  Seth took a cautious step toward him, his hand outstretched. Abaddon waited, practically holding his breath as Seth’s fingers lit upon his shoulder. He felt the heat all the way through his shirt, the surge of temptation subsiding, but not fast enough.

  “Will you come to the revival tonight?”

  Abaddon laughed, the sound hoarse and grating in his throat. “Why?”

  “‘I have trusted in thy mercy; my heart shall rejoice in thy salvation.’”

  The words burned. For the first time in his memory, Abaddon felt tears behind his eyes. “No. It’s too late for me. You shouldn’t even be talking to me. You should be running away from me as fast as you can.”

  “You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”

  “I said I didn’t want to hurt you. It’s not the same thing.”

  Seth blinked, confused. “I don’t understand.”

  “I know.”

  “You also said you wouldn’t lie to me.”

  “And I won’t.”

  “Then tell me what you mean.”

  Abaddon stood, stretching his back, pushing his hair roughly off his forehead. “If I were a man—a decent man—I’d leave you alone. But I’m not a man. I’m something much worse, and I’m required to hunt down certain things. And you…” He shook his head, wondering at the strength of his longing. “You’re the epitome of those things. You have the purest soul I’ve ever encountered.”

  “That’s something you can see?”

  Abaddon nodded, even though the gesture was lost on Seth. “I can see it. I can smell it. I can even taste it, and goddamn it, Seth, it’s delicious. It’s like I’m an addict, and you’re the perfect fucking drug. I want both you and your soul. I hunger for you.” He took a step closer despite himself, his voice becoming thick and hoarse. “In more ways than one.”

  A slow blush rose on Seth’s cheeks. It only made him more tempting. “You can’t take it without my permission though, right?”

  The question surprised Abaddon. It felt like a sudden shift of direction. After giving voice to what he truly felt, confessing the strength and breadth of his desire, it was hard to back up and veer into a normal conversation as if nothing had happened. “Right. You’d have to agree.”

  “Do you intend to hurt somebody else? Somebody at the revival?”

  “No. I told you the truth. I only wanted to see you. I just…” He shook his head, wishing he could explain it to himself so he’d know how to explain it to Seth. “You’re amazing, in every way. I couldn’t stay away.”

  Seth ducked his head, scuffing one toe in the dirt and leaves on the forest floor. “Will you come tonight? Please?”

  “I can’t be saved.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  Abaddon sighed. He didn’t want to give Seth false hope. On the other hand, the thought of sitting in the congregation and watching Seth play filled him with a lightness he hadn’t felt in years. It also filled him with a pain he couldn’t begin to define. “If it’s what you want.”

  “It is.”

  “Until tonight then.” Abaddon reached for Seth, but stopped short of allowing himself the contact. “Peace and love to you, brother.” And for the first time ever, he meant it.

  Chapter Six

  Even Angels Dig the Doobies

  If it hadn’t been for the music, Abaddon might have gotten tired of the revivals. They were all variations on the same speech. The same bible quotes used out of context. The same strange glances toward Seth as the collection plate filled. But listening to Seth play never got old. The band played the same songs from night to night, but they improvised a lot, jamming on the familiar riffs, allowing Seth and the choir room for ornamentation.

  Abaddon found a seat on the right side of the tent, as he always did, about halfway between the stage and the entrance. He had a clear view of Seth at the keyboards for as long as the audience stayed sitting. His view was often blocked once people started standing, but that only impeded his eyes. Nothing could inhibit his soul sense, or the magic of Seth’s music. And that night, he could have sworn Seth was playing just for him. The keyboard notes resonated against Abaddon’s well of power. They crawled over him like a caress. They hinted at promises of things to come. It was the sweetest torture he’d ever endured, hungering for Seth’s soul, even as he became more and more reluctant to claim it. Abaddon was both enraptured and impatient, loving the experience, yet counting the seconds until he might be able to steal a few moments alone with Seth, and so he didn’t notice the commotion at first.

  It started behind him, at the back of the crowd, just as the revival started to build toward the final act. It began with a low buzz of fear, then a woman screamed. For the first time ever, Seth’s fingers missed a note, and Abaddon sat up, sensing Seth’s sudden agitation, wondering what was wrong. The choir turned as one, not toward the disruption near the entrance of the tent, but toward Seth.

  “Don’t worry!” Thaddeus cried, stepping to the front of the stage and spreading his arms wide. “Let them pass! They won’t hurt you!”

  The murmurs from the crowd became more urgent, the hubbub moving like a wave up the rows. The Rainbow Revivalists moved quickly down the center aisle, standing on each side of it with their arms outstretched, holding the congregants back. People strained to see over them, to catch a glimpse of what all the fuss was about. Those close enough to see had wide eyes, their hands held to their lips.

  “What is it?” people asked.

  And then, Abaddon heard the word.

  “Snakes!”

  Snakes. The announcement rippled through the crowd, a breathless, enraptured whisper. Bunches of them.

  “Let them pass!” Thaddeus called again. “They are sent by the Lord on this wondrous evening, so that we may witness the strength of my brother’s devotion!”

  Alarm flared in Abaddon’s chest. He turned toward Seth. He’d stopped playing completely. He stood with his head bowed. He didn’t look scared. He didn’t look eager.

  He looked resigned.

  A choir member took his arm and guided him forward, to the front of the stage, and Abaddon caught the admiring glances the rest of the Rainbow Revivalists threw Seth’s way.

  This was what they’d been waiting for, watching Seth every night, hoping for this very thing. Abaddon stood on his chair, straining to see. What he saw made his heart burst into gear.

  It was snakes, all right. Dozens of them. Easily as many as a hundred. Probably more. They slithered over each other in their eagerness, all of them moving with an inexplicable determination toward the front of the tent. There were rat snakes, Florida pine snakes, and corn snakes. Those were harmless enough, but mixed in among them, Abaddon spotted copperheads, cottonmouths, rattlers, and coral snakes, plus half a dozen other species that he couldn’t identify on sight.

  Seth descended the steps from the stage alone, undoing the top two buttons of his shirt as he did. He pulled the ever-present scarf from his neck and tucked it into his pocket, and the snakes surged forward.

  Some of the congregants had followed Abaddon’s example and climbed onto their chairs for a better view. Others pushed forward in their excitement. Seth sank to his knees, his arms stretching forward to the floor, as if to meet the wave of reptiles.

  “Seth!” Abaddon yelled, but Seth couldn’t hear him over the din of the crowd. A frantic glance around the tent at the other Rainbow Revival members alarmed him even more. None of them were moving to help. The choir was singing “I Stand Amazed”. Thaddeus and Bob stood on the stage behind Seth, their eyes practically glowing with excitement. And Zed…

  Zed stood to the side. He alone looked unhappy with the drama unfolding before them, but he didn’t move to stop it.

  The snakes went straight to Seth. They climbed his arms. They slithered into his lap. They writ
hed up his spine to wrap around his neck. The smaller ones circled around him, like a pack of wolves surrounding their prey.

  “Seth!” Abaddon jumped off his seat, pushing the spectators out of his way. He shoved forward, determined to reach Seth before the snakes started biting, but the mortals were enraptured by the sight, frozen in their awe. He pushed harder, not caring if he knocked them over in his haste. He finally reached the aisle, but two of the Rainbow Revivalists blocked him, grabbing his arms to hold him back.

  “Help him!” Abaddon screamed toward Zed.

  Zed hung his head, looking almost ashamed.

  “Goddamn it, let me go!”

  But more of the Rainbow members had seen the struggle and moved forward to help subdue him. Seth was now lost beneath the snakes, only his hands and parts of his face visible. It was so unnatural, like something out of a bad horror movie, and Abaddon gritted his teeth. Power bubbled up from the well that resided where his soul used to be. It surged down his arms, tingled in his fingertips. He clenched his fists, debating the wisdom of using it against the mortals who held him.

  “Brother Abaddon,” Zed said, suddenly next to him. “I promise you, the boy will not be harmed.”

  “How can you say that? How can you just stand here and watch?”

  “I appreciate your concern, but the phenomenon is almost over.”

  “The phenomenon?” Abaddon’s anger flared again, this time directed at Zed, but when he looked toward Seth, he saw that Zed was right. As suddenly as they’d arrived, the snakes seemed to be losing interest in Seth. Those still on the ground headed for the door, as if they could read the glowing exit sign. The ones draped over Seth’s body dipped toward the floor, abandoning their perch, fleeing for the Alabama woods.

  The crazy thing was, of the Rainbow Revival members, only Seth and Zed looked relieved. The rest seemed strangely disappointed.

  “What the hell?” Abaddon asked of nobody in particular. “What the fuck just happened?”

  Thaddeus was already preaching again, shouting about how the righteous would be known by their ability to control serpents. Reverend Bob jangled his tambourine. The crowd raised their hands, crying out their praises. The collection plates appeared.