For the Hopeless

It was early evening, the dark attic lit only dimly by the streetlamp outside of the house. Snow had begun to fall again, each flake passing the window with a small flutter. It was cold here, and not just because of the winter temperatures and the lack of heating this high up in the building.

Talon gazed at the snow with empty gray eyes. They followed one flake down, then another, and another... Where are you going? he wanted to ask them. Why are you in such a hurry? You'll only kill yourself faster this way. He reached toward the window, toward the helplessly falling snowflakes, and his skin glowed ghostly gray-white in the light of the streetlamp. Stay with me.

"Talon?" came a raspy whisper from behind him, laden with the very same despair that weighed upon his every thought. No one was spared by it in this cold, empty space. No one.

The boy lowered his arm slowly, though he made no move to look at his visitor. His gray eyes were following the snowflakes again; one, then another, and another... "Is there another for me to kill?" That was the only reason they ever came up here, to utilize his unnatural abilities and make their lives just a little bit easier. But what about him?

"No, Talon." The speaker stepped into view, trembling beneath the weight of his uncontrollable sadness. Hayden lowered herself onto the half-broken crate to his left, and her trembling escalated into an almost seizure-like tremor. She made no move to stand as any sane person would have, however, instead busying herself with fidgeting, as though she thought that would help somehow. Talon couldn't help but watch as she slowly ran shaking fingers through her soft brown hair, tugged at the fabric of her gray jeans, even lightly jabbed her nails into her palms.

"What is it that you want, then?" the boy asked when she didn't go on. Her eyes darted to his, but almost instantly went elsewhere when she felt his subtle, unconscious pull, tugging her ever so slowly into a dark, lonely abyss. He was strong, and only getting stronger.

"Do you know anything about other species?" she asked in her gravelly whisper of a voice, watching the snowflakes as he had been but likely with much less negative thoughts. "Like demons and things even worse than demons?"

"Is this about Bailey?" he asked, his head gently tilting to one side.

She turned to him, surprised, but turned away again before her eyes could meet his. "How did you know?"

"She's worse than a demon, and there aren't many people walking the Earth who are worse than a demon." It seemed completely logical to him; but when she turned to face him once more, her eyes were wide in shock, focused smartly on his nose.

"You know what she is, don't you?" she nearly shouted. Or, at least, it sounded like a shout in the disturbing silence of the attic. "How do you know?"

"She's worse than a demon," he said again, "and there aren't many people walking the Earth who are worse than a demon."

She opened her mouth to repeat the question, but she quickly decided that it would do no good. That was just how Talon thought. No matter how she rephrased the question, he would offer her the same explanation; because to him, that was the only answer. "What is she, then?" she asked instead, shifting apprehensively on her creaky crate.

"Worse than a demon," he told her again, his head slowly tilting to the other side. "Isn't it obvious?" Her brow furrowed, and her dark tresses shifted about her shoulders as she shook her head. "What's the only thing worse than a demon that can walk the Earth?"

"I don't know," she said, shaking her head more violently now. "I never really knew about demons, let alone anything beyond them."

"She's a devil," Talon said simply, offering no further explanation.

"The Devil?" Hayden repeated, eyes wide in shock.

"No," Talon said with the slightest shake of his head. "A devil."

On the floor below, Tawny's cloudy-sky eyes had widened in pure terror. Her perfectly manicured nails dug into the wall she'd been leaning against, bits of paint chipping off to curl beneath them. The scraping sound was loud in the silence, but she heard nothing except the voices in the attic.

A devil, she thought in a breathless whisper. How did I not think of that? How did that escape my notice for so long?

"The Devil is a much more powerful entity," Talon continued in the attic, unaware of the eavesdropper below. "He fathers the young devils, the demidevils, but beyond that, he has very little to do with them."

"What are they...what are they like?" Hayden asked hesitantly, eyes still wide and hands continuing to fidget.

Talon shrugged. "Their sole purpose is supposedly to wreak havoc upon Earth. It's said that they cause earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, crises, even inspire murders, but I've never met one. Not a normal one. I likely wouldn't be alive if I had."

"So, Bailey's not really...one of those things?" Hayden asked in that same hesitant voice. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know. "Since she's not...not a normal one?"

"She's one of them," Talon said with no change to his tone. The conversation didn't seem to bother him at all. "Worse than a demon. She's just not as eager to wreak havoc as the others are. She has all of the powers, all of the evil urges, but she fights it. She doesn't want to be a devil. I think she wants to be human."

"Why did she want to hide this from us, then? If she doesn't want to be a devil, if she wants to be a human and help people, what's the big deal?" Her eyes darted to Talon's, full of confusion, but quickly moved back to the safety of the window.

"You can't hide from what you are," Talon said softly, following her gaze to the window. The snowflakes were still falling, heading slowly to their inevitable death; and still, he could do nothing to persuade them to stay here. He could do nothing to make them his companions in this cold, dark attic. He could do nothing to save them. And again, he whispered, "You can't hide from what you are."

-

A soft knock on the door woke Bailey from a light, dreamless sleep. She sat up with a light sigh, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She stared at the door for a moment, then asked quietly, "Who is it?"

"It's me," came Tawny's soft voice, sounding absolutely lost. "May I come in?"

"Of course," was Bailey's response, uttered in something that could barely be classified as a whisper. The door opened, and Tawny's small frame ghosted into the room.

"What is it?" Bailey asked when all she did was put her back to the closed door and stare. The girl didn't speak. She only stood there, staring, appearing to be on the brink of tears. "Tawny, what's wrong?" Bailey asked, getting to her feet in one swift, sweeping motion and taking a step toward her. Her lower lip quivered, and Bailey said again, softly, "Tawny?"

"I know what you are!" she suddenly shouted, lurching forward a single frantic step. Her tears finally welled over, streaming down her cheeks with the black of mascara. "I know!"

Bailey's eyes widened, her knees suddenly going weak and nearly giving out beneath her. She fell back a step, toppling numbly onto her bed. "No," she breathed. "No." Louder, this time. Her hair swung about her face as she violently shook her head. "No!" She leaped to her feet and started for Tawny, reaching for her in what appeared to be anger but was truly ill-expressed terror. Tawny caught her wrists and spun, slamming Bailey's back against the nearest wall.

"Show me," she pleaded, pinning the woman's wrists at her sides. The tears still fell, but beneath them was a hard edge, a coldness that belied the sorrow. "Prove to me what you are."

Bailey could only stare, taken aback by the strange request. "W-what?" she stammered.

"Show me," she repeated sternly, her grip on Bailey's limp arms tightening. "Show me." Bailey gazed at the tiny woman for a moment longer, then gave in to her request. She deserved to see what Bailey had been hiding for so long.

A red haze, hot and soft as silk left in the sun, fell over the room, twining itself about Bailey and Tawny. Bailey's eyes slipped shut for a moment, and when she opened them again, they were the same glowing red as they became whenever she lost control of herself. That strange red haze slid down her body, dancing around each limb, each toe and finger, each hair. Her skin went from pale white to deep red, the red of blood. Her hair became pitch black, luscious and wavy as always. Her shirt and pants tore as a devil's tail and wings emerged, pushing her away from the wall. Between her bloody-red lips peeked shark-like, pointed teeth, and finally, a pair of small, sharp, black horns appeared at the top of her head. The red haze continued its slithering dance, and Bailey and Tawny stared at one another.

"It's true," Tawny whispered after a full minute had passed. "It's...true." Her fingers fell away from the woman's wrists. She staggered back a step, shaking her head slowly and gazing up at those glowing red eyes, at a loss for words. She reached up to gently touch Bailey's cheek, just to make sure this was all real. "You're a devil."

Bailey leaned into the touch, even holding Tawny's hand to her face with one of her own. "But I'm still Bailey," she said softly, as though Tawny would forget. "I'm still Bailey."

Tawny's other hand brushed against Bailey's temple, sliding down to cup her face. "You are," she whispered, though her voice quivered and the tears began to fall once more. "You are Bailey."

Slowly, she leaned up, and Bailey leaned down, and their lips met in a warm, chaste kiss – the kiss of an angel, not of a devil.