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How does one lay a demon to rest?
Father Basil stared at the still body of the demon Dandelion on the cold marble floor. The demon's chest was pierced, the once beautiful fabric of the vest torn and wet with blood. His face, always enigmatic, was now an unreadable black void with his eyes closed.
He wasn’t breathing.
The priest's mind whirled with thoughts: do you bury a demon? He needed to run, the demons will be looking for him- do you have a funeral - where do I go now, what do I do - why did he help me - why did he have to die?
Meanwhile, Father Basil’s body kneeled on the ground cold ground, distant and numb. He couldn’t get himself to move, no matter how his knees ached, no matter how terrified he was of being found, no matter how very much dead the corpse was before him. At that moment, the world around him weighed so heavily he couldn’t help but be crushed beneath it.
He shouldn’t be so affected by this, Father Basil thought to himself. There’s nothing you can do and besides! It was a demon, an abomination against God, and a particularly bastardly one too. But that only made him wonder where a demons’ soul goes when they die. If they even had a soul. If not, if one dies, were they just… gone? A prickly feeling of guilt turned in the priest's stomach.
Demon or not, Dandelion protected him. Saved him. Died for him. Even if for reasons the priest couldn’t quite comprehend. Perhaps there was good underneath that capricious personality, deep under those layers of apathy and selfishness. Surely, that warranted at least a prayer. Something to help the demon along to wherever he goes now.
Father Basil took his cross in his hand, closed his eyes, and bowed his head. “ Saints of God, come to his aid,” he murmured, “ Give him eternal rest, O Lord, and may your light shine on him forever.” His voice echoed through the empty hall, as if low whispers were mocking his efforts.
Suddenly, the priest remembered when he last took his cross and uttered this prayer. He could see it now, Sister Willow lying on her deathbed. It was as clear as the day he gently took her thin hand and found it to already be cold. She had been sick for so long that he thought he had accepted her fate. But to see her lifeless form and to truly realize he would never be able to see her again despite how long she’s been in his life-
Father Basil felt his hands begin to tremble, the rosaries chattering from the movement. What was he doing here? What did he hope to accomplish? Just to walk in and walk out with Sage in hand, after he drove him there in the first place? Was he truly so sure that God’s protection would follow him here, where even demons die at each other’s hands? He prays, but could God even hear him so far from his presence? What a fool, what a desperate damned fool.
“Are you crying? ”
Father Basil’s eyes blinked open and looked down at what he had assumed to be the corpse of Dandelion. Instead the demon looked up at him with a bemused expression, his ruby eyes once again piercing from the darkness. “What the Hell are you crying for?”
The priest wiped his eyes, unaware of the tears that had started to trail down his face. “Why am I- you were dead!”
Dandelion squinted. “Is that the reason? How silly, you barely know me.” He sat up at that point. The demon stretched, winced, and then prodded the open wound. “Ugh, the bastard got me in the heart, didn’t he? No wonder it’s taking so long to heal.”
Basil could only stare at the most obnoxiously casual Lazarus that he could’ve ever hoped to meet. “Being stabbed in the heart doesn’t kill you?”
“What? No, of course not. Hurts like a bitch, but nothing some bed rest wouldn’t heal. Why, would that kill you?”
“Of course!”
“Oh. You humans are fragile, aren’t you? Funny. Come now, help me up.” Father Basil did so, taking the demon's hand and pulling him to his feet. He tried to be careful, as if the wrong move would shatter the illusion of life but instead Dandelion stretched once more and rubbed the small of his back.
“You just had to leave me on the floor, did you?” Dandelion complained, “not even a pillow?”
“Afraid I couldn’t find one while dragging your body away from the raging mob of demons. So very sorry,” dry exasperation was creeping back into the priest's voice now the shock had subsided. The demon certainly seemed alright. But there was an intense flood of relief that almost made Father Basil's legs go weak. Thank God, thank God.
“You’re forgiven, just remember a blanket next time. Maybe some champaign while you’re at it.” Dandelion paused, remembering. “Say, how did you manage to get away from Aster? The man’s relentless.”
Basil took out the bottle of clear liquid from his pocket, now only half full. “Holy water,” he explained. “Threw it on his face to get him away from you. Wasn’t sure it would work, to be honest. I was just desperate.”
Dandelion's eyes widened. “I’ve heard of that. May I?”
“No, wait-“ the image of watching Aster's skin sizzling and curdling while the demon howled in pain was fresh in Basil’s memory but Dandelion took the bottle from his hands. The shade took off one of his silky gloves and poured a drop of the water onto the tip of his finger. To Father Basil’s horror, the demon skin began to sizzle, burning away a sliver of the demon's silhouetted finger.
“Oh, now that burns,” Dandelion remarked, trying to shake the remains from his hand. Alarmed, Father Basil took a handkerchief and wiped away the rest of holy water.
“Don’t go doing something stupid like that, not after you almost died!” Father scolded, looking at the finger as if he could fix the damage. But the demon seemed uninterested, instead his focus was on the holy water itself. He held it up, looking at it in the light.
“I told you, stabbing alone wouldn’t kill me. This, however,” the demon shook the bottle so the water shimmered in the light, “any burns are permanent. Can destroy a demon in an instance if used right. And you threw this onto Aster’s face ?”
“Quite a bit.”
Dandelion laughed. “Oh, my good Father, he’s going to absolutely murder you.”
“Wasn’t he going to before?”
“He wants your soul to eat, it adds to his power (as if the twat needs more of it). He does that to every human that wanders down here. But now? Basil, you just burned off half of the Crown Prince Aster's face! You just made it personal!” Dandelion thought for a second. “No, not even murder, he going to want to break you, take you. He’s the type to keep trophies.” As hard as it was to read Dandelion’s face, his voice made it clear how hard he was grinning. As if it was some new exciting development to a game.
Meanwhile, Father Basil could feel the blood drain from his face. “He’s going to keep hunting me then?”
“Until kingdom come. With his hounds, with his minions, with everything in his power. I don’t suppose you can make more of this?” Dandelion shook the bottle again.
“No. Maybe? I don’t know,” Basil groaned, head in his hands. How has this gotten worse?
“Shame,” Dandelion tossed the bottle back, “it would be useful. Come on now, I figure we both need a meal at this point.”
“Wait-” Father Basil grabbed the demon by the crook of the elbow. It was almost an involuntary movement. When Dandelion looked back at him with a curious tilt of the head, the priest found himself struggling to finish his thought. He felt almost dizzy with all of the thoughts whirling inside his head. The constant serves between horror, relief, suspicion, guilt. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking and there was a growing sense that he just wanted to go to sleep.
Finally he forced out the words: “What happens when demons die?”
“Hm?”
“When you die, where does your soul go?”
“Oh, Father,” there was a patronizing tone to his voice, as if the priest really should’ve known better, “demons do not have souls. We aren’t born with them, not like you humans. Your God didn’t deem necessary, I suppose.”
“Then what happens to you when you die? And don’t tell me how it takes a lot to kill you, you demons have been down here long enough to figure some way to off eachother.”
Dandelion shrugged. “We just die, I suppose.”
Father Basil’s heart began to race. “You just die?”
“There isn’t exactly a place for us in Heaven, even in purgatory . And it’s not like another, super Hell just for demons. What we have is what we get. After that, we disappear.”
The priest’s mind reeled at the thought. To go through the drudgery of life with only the promise of existential nothing at the end of it. No hope, no redemption. No wonder demons just indulged in their every desire and vice. Why not at that point? Only one life to live. But if that’s the case…
“If you keep helping me, then Aster is going to keep hunting you too. He’s going to try to hurt you, kill you.”
“Probably.”
“Then why are you helping me? If there is nothing for you, why risk your life? You don’t know me, you don’t even like me. Why?” Basil thought back to what Dandelion said before, about how taking a soul makes a demon more powerful “Is it my soul then? Is that what you want? To trick me, or-or force me to give it up-”
Father Basil stopped at the sound of Dandelion’s laughter. The demon was so overcome with it that he almost doubled over. The priest could feel his face grow hot, he took back his hand to cross his arms in a vaguely dignified manner. “I don’t see what’s so funny.”
“Oh, you silly silly human.” Dandelion’s hands reached out and gently took the sides of Father Basil’s face. The priest was caught so off guard that he didn’t resist when he was pushed against the wall. Dandelion’s gloved fingers felt so soft as they stroked along the priest’s chin line. Father Basil could feel his own body heat rising. “I don’t want your soul, honest. Never had the taste for things like power or ambition.”
Father Basil swallowed. “Then what do you have the taste for?”
“Pleasure, mostly. My own and others.” Dandelion’s eyes look at him with an intensity that Father Basil never felt before, like a cat eyeing a cornered mouse. Hungry. It sent shivers down his spine but not quite from fear.
Suddenly, what the demon was implying hit Father Basil like a brick. “You’re helping because you want to have sex with me?”
“You say that as if it was surprising. Do you have such a low opinion of yourself, Father?” Dandelion moved closer, pressing Father Basil to the wall. He could feel the demon’s still wet blood, hot against his stomach.
Father Basil shook his head. If to refuse or to shake the heat that rapidly built in his head, he wasn’t sure. Breathe, he told himself, remember to breathe. “It’s a fool’s errand,” he cursed how choked his voice sounded, “I’m a priest, remember? I won’t have sex with anyone, especially a demon.”
Another laugh, sending another shiver through Father Basil. “You can tell yourself that all you want, little priest, but I know that’s not true. Demons can sense it, you know, your weakness. The tension you feel behind the goodly facade. I can practically smell how desperate you really are. It’s… intoxicating,” One of Dandelion’s hands took a hold of Father Basil’s chin and forced the priest to look him in the eye. A thumb traced his lips. Their faces were so close together that their foreheads were practically touching. “Relax, Father, and trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
Father Basil urged himself to move, to push the demon away. To take his cross, forsake the demon’s disgusting lust, and affirm his own love of God.
But he’s never been touched like this before. Held like this, openly desired like this. It felt… not bad. Overwhelmingly not bad. Father Basil was getting dizzy from the sensation of it. He could feel the blood rush away from his head and towards parts that he was desperately trying not to think about. Father Basil tried to think of things to distract him from the arousal like when he was teenager: Sister Willow’s disapproval, God watching, devils pulling out his intestines in punishment.
But he couldn’t escape the idea that Dandelion did indeed know what he was doing and how much pleasure he would make Basil feel. He couldn’t stop looking at Dandelion’s eyes.
“You’re wrong,” he said, but it sounded pathetically weak to his own ears.
“Then tell me no, tell me to stop,” Dandelion murmured.
He couldn’t. God forgive him, he couldn’t.
Perhaps it was a miracle from God that the sound of footsteps could be heard coming down the hallway. Dandelion moved first, grabbing Father Basil before he could react and pulling him into hiding. It was in one of those mid-hallway corners that was more decorative than practical, behind a marble column. Father Basil’s head spun at the sudden spike of terror he felt that he barely noticed that Dandelion squeezed in beside him. The demon put a finger to his mouth, the white glove stark against his inky face. Be quiet . Father Basil tried to hold his breath.
The tip taps of heels on the tile came closer. Then right by their hiding spot. Basil tried to press himself further against the wall, willing himself to become like the wallpaper design. Tip tap, tip tap past the columns, down the hall, turning the corner, then finally, finally, out of earshot.
Father Basil let out a great sigh of relief. Then he took another deep breath, clearing his head. What was he doing, letting his physical desires rule his head like that? Father Basil was a man of God, he was above such wanton desires. No matter how tempting Dandelion was, it was only that, a temptation.
Suddenly, Dandelion pulled on Father Basil’s cross, pulling Father Basil down and into a deep kiss. The demon’s lips felt surprisingly soft against his own, making Father Basil’s mind go delightedly blank. It was nothing like the chaste childhood pecks Father Basil once experienced. It was filled with a burning intensity that made his legs weak. It reignited both the initial arousal and something else, something deeper. Years and years of desires that Father Basil long since smothered came roaring back.
And like that, all Father Basil’s carefully constructed walls fell away.
His body moved on its own, running on an instinct that he didn’t know he had. Father Basil grabbed Dandelion’s shoulders and pulled him closer, kissing the demon back. It was clumsy, sloppy even. Like a drowning man's first breath of air. Thankfully, Dandelion was right and knew exactly what he was doing.
Dandelion shoved him backward, pinning Father Basil between him and the wall. Father Basil’s tongue found itself in Dandelion’s mouth and it brushed the tips of the demon’s razor sharp teeth. He clung to Dandelion’s shoulders, nails digging into the fabric. At this point it was the only thing keeping him upright.
Meanwhile, one of Dandelion’s hands snaked into Father Basil’s thick cowl and quickly found the erection bulging in his pants. Dandelion began to rub the length of it. Even through the layer of fabric, Father Basil could feel the warmth of his hand and expertness of his strokes. Each touch sent a spike of electricity right to his brain.
Father Basil moaned into Dandelion’s mouth, a horribly needy sound. His hips bucked toward Dandelion’s teasing fingers, desperate for more that sensation. He had closed his eyes at this point, simply letting Dandelion do what he wanted with him. It was all so much, too much, but still not enough. He needed more.
As suddenly as he pulled Father Basil in, Dandelion stepped away, leaving Father Basil gasping for air. He had to grab the wall to keep himself upright.
Dandelion looked at him appraisingly and chuckled, low and satisfied like a cat's purr. “You were wrong, what you said before. I do like you.”
“You… do?” Basil could barely get the words out, he was so light headed.
“Are you kidding? You’re the most interesting thing that has happened down here for centuries!”
All at once, Father Basil was keenly aware of how pathetic he looked. Out of breath, hairs a mess, still visibly aroused. Just some kisses and teasing touches awakened something in him so powerful that it made a fool out of him. Something, as Dandelion pointed out before, desperate.
How utterly humiliating.
“I think…” Basil finally flatly said, “I need some rest.”
He couldn’t see the demon smirk, but he could feel it. “Let's get you to a bed then.”