Page 3 of Hellfire & Bowties
Oren kept the grip on Luc’s hand firm, looking around at the clusters of people huddled together, waiting to be led to their rooms.
“I… I don’t have one?” He looked up at Luc, clearly confused. “I don’t think I missed any of them. Adulterers, thieves, traitors…” He ticked off the groups, looking at each one as he did, his memory clearly impeccable. He got to the final group then looked up again. “I’m not any of those things.”
Luc boomed with laughter, letting go of his hand and finally breaking the contact between them.
“Ah,” he said. “We haven’t had one of you in a while. Everyone, we have an innocent soul on our hands!”
His words halted the slow shuffle of people and prompted a cacophony of laughter and slurs thrown Oren’s way as his demons mocked his delusion of being an innocent in Hell.
“Thank you for the laugh. You can shack up with the liars,” Luc said, grabbing a yellow sticky note and pressing it to Oren’s chest. “Just follow Tana’s screeching and you’ll catch up.”
The note rustled softly for a second before it flickered and burst into flames, leaving a small hole in Oren’s jacket.
Oren looked down at his chest and frowned, bottom lip sticking out in a pout Luc absolutely didn’t find hot as fuck.
“This is a new blazer,” Oren said. “It’s my first time wearing it, and you burned it.”
He poked the hole with his finger, his wide eyes filled with disappointment. Luc on the other hand stared at the hole in confusion, grabbing another note and sticking it on, only to have it combust again, leaving a second hole.
“Hey!” Oren said, but Luc couldn’t really pay too much attention.
“Right,” Luc said, having absolutely zero idea what he was supposed to do. If Oren said he was innocent and the sticky note designated to liars agreed… what in Uriel’s asshole was going on? “Clearly not a liar then.”
“What the fuck?” Zorun echoed Luc’s thoughts.
“I have no idea.” Luc sighed, long and hard. “But we will get to the bottom of this. Everyone, to your levels. You, with me.”
He ushered Oren back to his office, Zorun following slowly, wings dragging behind him like a mobile sweeper.
He pushed the door open and groaned when it got stuck on something. He shoved harder and realized that during his short absence, the entire shelf behind his desk had collapsed, sending thousands of papers and files like an avalanche toward the door.
“Fuck today,” he whispered under his breath, using his booted feet to create a path between the papers from the door to his desk, and his tail to keep the path clear for Oren, who shuffled behind him.
He practically threw himself into his chair, irritated steam pouring off him, and pointed to the chair on the other side of his desk for Oren. “Have a seat.”
It wasn’t really a request.
Oren did as told anyway, looking around with wide eyes, curling his upper lip slightly at the mess.
“It’s been a bit chaotic here lately,” Luc said.
“A bit?” Oren said sarcastically before slapping a hand over his lips, eyes snapping back to Luc. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize.” Luc chuckled. “Place desperately needs some organizing and I haven’t had the time recently.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, how long is recently?” Oren asked, voice quiet but determined.
“An eon or two.”
“Or three…” Zorun said from the doorway, where he was lounging against the wall and playing with his knife again.
Oren turned to look at him, nodding in understanding as if it made perfect sense.
“Beside the point now,” Luc said. “We need to figure out how you got here. So, let’s start with some simple things. How did you die?”
“Oh…” Oren balked at the question. “That’s simple? I thought, like… favorite color or something.”
“Not really relevant here, hon,” Luc said.
