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Love.

Love that hurt, that was pain and aching and loneliness and loss and was so awful, he wanted it to stop, but he couldn't stop it, and he hated it but it was there.

Love.

It wore his face.

The sensations surrounded him, threatened to consume him, his soul screaming for release from its faux-human shell under the stress of this joining. Looking into the devil's eyes could be horror enough--staring into his soul was more than Zeke's spirit could nearly bear.

And yet he couldn't stop. He just couldn't stop.

Zeke's physical release came as almost an afterthought, something he was only dimly aware of. He heard a cry, not his own but the devil's, echoing all around him. The heat became a brilliant white light, brighter than anything he'd ever seen, except on the day that he'd died.

The light was the last thing he saw.


>



Damn it, Zeke cursed to himself. He'd blacked out again.

"You know, Ezekiel, your soul could have been completely destroyed by that little game of yours--blown right out through those fragile eyes, shattered to a million pieces. What an ugly end that would have been."

Zeke's vision cleared and he found the devil lying next to him, naked, half-covered with the still-smoldering bed sheets. "I didn't know you liked to play so close to the edge before," Satan continued, "but I'll keep that in mind for the future."

Zeke had the worst hangover of his life--at least that was what it felt like. His throat was raw, every joint and muscle ached, and his ears were even ringing.

"Foolish Ezekiel," the devil sighed, reaching out to stroke Zeke's hair. "I know you meant well, and I do dearly appreciate your efforts to please me. But there's a reason I have to stay in control...if I don't, I could destroy you entirely. And that would be such a shame."

"Because you love me. Don't try to deny it--I felt it."

"I wonder if you can really understand any of what you felt."

"Enough that I...actually feel some pity for you, now. You're all twisted up inside. You hate, and you enjoy making others suffer, because everything that's supposed to make people feel good only makes you feel pain. Love hurts you the worst."

"Love always hurts. Mortals are just too stubborn and caught up in silly romantic dreams to see what love really is. A curse. Love makes us betray our best interests, all in the name of an emotion that's never done any of us any good." He paused as he trailed his fingers over Ezekiel's face, tracing his lips, his cheeks. He sighed and shook his head. "And I do so hate pity, therefore if you say that to me again I'm going to have to hurt you. Badly. At the moment, I honestly don't feel like doing that."

Zeke smiled, and he didn't resist when the devil slipped closer and kissed him. Not a hard kiss, only a lingering one that seemed to somehow ease away the aches and pains in his body, warming without arousing. Pleasant, comforting, healing...nothing he'd come to expect from the devil.

But the devil was, if anything, always fullsurpsurprises.

Afterwards, they held each other in silence. Zeke wished he could make sense of everything he had seen and felt, everything he was feeling now. "I don't love you," he said, with some apology in his voice.

"I know. Pps yps you will in time, perhaps you'll simply come to hate me even more than you already do."

"You've been nothing but a complete bastard to me."

"It's my nature. The devil can't change his ways, dear boy, I've been set in them for far too long."

"So are you going to give me a decent hint about who I'm supposed to hunt down next or not?"

Satan picked himself up from where he'd been laying against Zeke's chest and favored him with a mischievous smile. He ran one hand down Zeke's right arm, and circled his fingers slowly around a mark on the underside of his elbow. "This one," he said.

"That's all?"

"That's more than enough. The rules of thisgame haven't changed, Detective, no matter what else may have happened. You still have to do your job on your own. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have important business to attend to."

"Someone else to torture?"

"No, 'Touched by an Angel' is on in ten minutes. I have to stay on top of the opposition's propaganda. Happy hunting, Ezekiel!"

A warm rush of air filled the room, and then the devil was gone. Zeke sat up, gazed around the room and saw the miserable state it was in: the crack in the door where he'd nearly pushed the devil through it, the pile of ash where their clothes had burned away, the dead TV, the bed sheets yellowed with sulfur-sweat and charred black in places. He decided he'd do best to make like the devil and vacate the premises as well...though of course, he had no clothes at the moment to wear.

"Terrific," he sighed.

A few seconds later there was a flash of light--and a pile of familiar worn and weathered attire fell to the floor in front of him.

"Thanks," he said, glancing down. At least he figured it was the devil's work. He cast a sheepish glance upward, too, just in case.

He dressed quickly and got ready to hit the streets, studying the mark on his arm the devil had indicated and hoping it would lead to some useful trail tonight. He felt strangely optimistic that it would.

But first, he thought he would go grab something to eat. He suddenly had the worst craving for Devil's food cake.

* * * * *

End Chapter 4...

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