I remembered not really caring about Gina. I think I laughed, actually. And I lied down. I must have, at least. 'Cause I woke up curled up on the floor. Only when I was sober (with a raging hangover) did I realize that she was dead.
I think I'd called the cops. Then I'd watched the tape in the amount of time it took them to get to her house.
To this day I have a scar across my left wrist.
I turned to face my mentor. He crossed him arms in front of his chest and looked down at me from his position standing on top of the shed beside me.
"Must I, Uguay?" I asked, staring up at him with pleading eyes.
He nodded solemnly.
With a distasteful sigh, I turned to the little boy, now standing and looking around for another weapon. Seeing a squirrel run past me, I lunged at it and grabbed it up by its tail. I looked to Uguay again.
He motioned for me to continue.
I tossed the helpless creature at the feet of the child, who looked at it in disbelief. He raised his arm again. In it this time was a thick branch.
I turned my face away.
Uguay laughed and urged me forward. "Come here, Fera."
I extended my wings again and took a large jump, flapping once to help myself onto the shed roof. I stood beside him, looking up at his defiantly set jaw. I was easily a head shorter than him.
He stood bare-chested wearing worn-out black cargo pants that drooped over his bare feet. His dark hair was half-combed over one of his deep-set icy blue eyes, and one of his ears had a studded cartilage piercing in it.
“You did well, Fera,” he said, putting his arm around my shoulders.
“I don’t feel well,” I said, looking at my feet uncomfortably.
“But you did excellent, you should feel very well,” he said, pulling me into his side reassuringly.
“No, I didn’t. I helped a little boy kill a squirrel,” I said, pushing away from him.
“No, you acted as a Hell-Raiser would. That’s why we’re back on Earth,” he said.
“To kill things?”
“To be disruptive,” he said with a little laugh. “But killing things falls under that category.”
“Good to know,” I sneered sarcastically.
I took a little jump and flew off, leaving my mentor in my dust.
Uguay was only a few years older than me, I thought. Maybe. he was 20 or 21, if I remembered right. I had been 19. I remembered him telling me his life’s story when I was partnered up with him the night I’d died.
“My story’s a lot like yours,” he’d said. “My friend created a blood pact with me when we were little. He was many years older than me, so anything he said was ‘cool’. When I turned 20,” or 21. I don’t remember. “I wrecked my Corvette. I was killed in the crash, and my pledge to Satan kicked in then. My mentor picked me up on the spot. His name was Jviovani. I started my job, just like you, right away.”
“But, I don’t want to be here,” I’d insisted. “It’s a mistake. I don’t even remember how I got here, as a Satanist, I mean.”
“Oh, but that’s a lie,” Uguay smiled. His eyes turned a bloody shade of red when he sensed someone was lying. I’d wondered if I had the same power.
It was. I remembered how I’d become a Satanist, and I remembered how I’d died. All too vividly, I thought to myself.
I had been in the shower, about a week after what would have been Gina’s 19thbirthday. I was 19, too. I didn’t know how I’d fallen, but I found myself lying on my face at the bottom of the bathtub. I turned my face to get up, and caught a glimpse of a large winged man standing beside me in the hot shower. With one strongly muscled arm, he held my face in the pooled water near the drain. I’d died slowly and painfully, my lungs constricting with every gasp. Just before I blacked out, I saw him smile. His mouth was filled with jagged, sharpened teeth. Then I shut my eyes for the last time.
I’d opened my eyes, fully clothed (thankfully) lying at the foot of a large, empty throne. A deep voice spoke from behind me. I’d sat up, and looked towards the voice. For the death of me, (Ugh. No pun intended.) I couldn’t remember what the man looked like. perhaps my memory had done that on purpose? But standing beside him was Uguay.
“Take this one, and teach her well,” he’d said. Nothing more.
I looked over my shoulder. Uguay was flying along, trying his hardest to catch up. I was faster than him, I thought to myself with glee.
“Fera,” he called. I slowed just enough for him to fly along beside me. “Does what I say offend you?”
“No,” I sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know what does anymore. I’m a demon, I’m here to serve Great Master for all of eternity. I really can’t let little things like something my mentor says offend me.”
“True, true,” he agreed. “But something confuses me about you, Fera. You say nothing offends you. And yet, you pass by perfect opportunities to live out your job to your full potential. Why?”
“Because I don’t want to be here, Uguay. Don’t you see? I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life in Hell. I wanted to visit my grandmother. I wanted to look down on Earth and protect it, not sneak up on unsuspecting people and shove them in front of a bus.”
“That’s not what we do, Fera,” Uguay looked a little offended.
“Then what do you do, Uguay?” I came to a stop. I treaded air, staying a good fifty feet above the ground as I asked. “’Cause I have no idea, then.”
Disgruntled, he stopped to think only for a moment before he began flying again.
“I don’t know either, Fera,” he added under his breath.