Abaddon and Asmodeus hover over the girl. Her clothing marks her as a temptress, black leather hugging her curves. But the way her chest rises and falls mixes with the sweet contours of her face, which resembles the most pious of angels. I’m a little shocked that the twins haven’t ravaged her yet. They have a penchant for wanting to mutilate and desecrate people and places they view as pure. Unlike me, they’ve accepted their place at the mouth of hell, the hope of salvation extinguished from their hearts. Yet a part of me is still desperate to save them, more than my need to save myself.
