She's the Devil | ✔

Chapter Eight

Xavier

"Where have you been?" Mom asks when I walk throught the doors hours later. Nothing really made sense, I barely even register that she's talking to me.

"Uh... Hell?" I mumble, fumbling over a box left in the middle of the room. If only she knew.

"Watch your mouth." She scolds, scowling. Instead of furthering the conversation, I make my way up to my room.

Sitting on my bed is Macaria. I narrow my eyes, as much as I feel attached to her, she is the last person I want to see. I just need some time to process what has just happened. Not only did I meet Lucifer in the last four hours; he threw me into a stone wall, called me stupid and threatened to kill me if I hurt or let anything happen to Macaria.

"I know you don't want to see me," Macaria smiles, falling back onto my bed. I briefly wonder how she knew. "I thought I could explain some things."

"Please do." I cross the room, laying across the top of my bed with my head next to hers. She smells like vanilla and roses, it's almost a sickly sweet combination.

She then goes on to explain. She tells me that her father is the reason it burned when we touched. And that he is very overprotective of her because of what happened to her sister. She explains that her father had been the one controlling my nightmares and that Agmoth was really their demon of fear.

I find that she is half demon, half angel. But she presents herself as a goddess. That's all I think about when she is near me. How god like she is. From her head to her toes, she radiates perfection and beauty. The devil in her comes in her personality.

"This is probably a lot to process especially since we don't know each other." Macaria sighs, her hand coming above her head to play with my hair. Normally, people touching my hair annoys me, but it actually feels nice having her do it.

"We can change that." My eyes drope, reminding me that I'm tired. "Want to play questions?"

"Sure. You first." She responds, her voice soft and comforting in my confusion. Could I believe her? I still felt as though I am losing my mind.

"Favorite color?"

"Red. You?"

"Green. Your turn."

She pauses, thinking of a question, her fingers pausing with her. "Where did you move from?"

"Somewhere in New York."

"I've never been."

"I'll take you sometime." I promise, without thinking. She smiles. "Favorite day?"

"November 17th." She repsonds without skipping a beat. I raise an eyebrow even though she can't see.

"Why?"

"It was my sister's birthday." She responds, her voice strained. "You?"

"April 20th."

"You smoke the devil's lettuce?" She teases, giggling.

"Fitting, huh?"