Sinfully Delicious

Daylight

Sarathiel wasn't a coward, he was the furthest thing from a coward if he was being completely honest with himself. He was, however, pragmatic and practical and did his best to refuse to play Sataniel's games. He saw the message on the cup, even if the two Guardians didn't, though he suspected that Murchadh knew exactly what was happening.

The man should have been his General, he had offered him the position twice. Once, a couple hundred years ago, when Murchadh had saved Sarathiel's life in an incident that remained unknown to anyone but the two of them, being the sole survivors of an assassination attempt.

The second time was as the council was battling with Lucifer about the fate of humanity. Murchadh had been a hunter on Earth since he had turned down the first offer from Sarathiel and had been there to gather intelligence and arguments to refute Sataniel's claims that they needed to sustain a human population for more than just a supply of food. Iblis had a soft spot for humans and claimed that despite their destructive ways, they were connected to the life force of Earth. They had sent Murchadh there to disprove those claims and a lot had rested on the prolific hunter's abilities.

Murchadh had agreed with Lucifer, unfortunately; and when he had refused the title of Sarathiel's General a second time, Sarathiel had surmised that it was because of that fact. Because of what he called the irrefutable truth. The elf wanted them to admit that Sataniel was correct and refused to take the bribe to ensure his silence on the matter.

So they had quietly agreed with Lucifer's first argument of humans being a useful food source and ignored the second when negotiations had continued. Then Murchadh had been relegated back to the basic rank of Guardian and condemned to serve within the cities of Earth, until he swore to destroy whatever evidence he had that confirmed Sataniel's claims.

Despite his refusal to destroy the evidence, Murchadh had never approached Sataniel with the information, in fact, the coffee shop was the first evidence that the two of them had ever even met. Iblis hated the Guardians almost as much as he hated the Council and Murchadh had no use for any of the angels, fallen or otherwise. Whatever Murchadh had seemed to be something that would die with the Guardian, though Sarathiel had more morals than to agree with some people's arguments that they should solve the issue the old-fashioned way. Murchadh was a good soldier, he was good for his people, even if his people did not remember him. But that was another issue all together and had nothing to do with the angels.

It seemed as if the dance of hate between light and dark was beginning again, though Sarathiel was certain that Sataniel had another angle then merely playing the childish games with a coffee shop. He had purposely picked the thing that Sarathiel had valued most from the humans, a silly little dalliance that he should never have admitted to Iblis in the first place. He had forgotten telling Sataniel about his desire for a good sticky bun until the deceiver had shown up to their latest meeting with twenty-four perfect representations of what Sarathiel missed from when humans were in control of Earth For some reason it was being thrown in his face, dragging him along on some ploy that he couldn't yet grasp.

There were other bakeries in other towns that had versions of what Sataniel had found. But there was something better, something different, about what had been served, as if it was created by something more than the physical ingredients.

Which left him here, at this very moment, walking through the door of the coffee shop that was oddly attached to a human housing structure, though he saw the indicators of Sataniel all over it. From the sleek, modern lines that were garishly opposed to the classical architecture preferred by the Council, the tinted windows that cut out the natural light to the demons that stood watch on the front steps.

Even the Eros demon that was sitting in the far corner, watching him as he stepped through the door spoke of Sataniel's planning, though if Sarathiel expected a reaction from her, he didn't receive one. Still, he sensed himself the centre of attention as he strode up to the counter, his eyes locking immediately on the curved glass display cases that showcased a colourful array of options. He smelled the sugar, the spices, and the otherness in all the baking.

It was calling to him in a way that nothing created by humans could possibly do but he didn't see the sticky buns. In fact, he saw an empty tray coated in the crystallized remains of the sauce under the sign that advertised sticky buns, but he didn't see what he was here for.

There were two human girls standing behind the counter, watching him with that annoying awestruck expression humans couldn't help but get when they looked at him or one of his brethren.

Sarathiel frowned at the two of them. "I would like a sticky bun."

By the stars in the daylight above, the two girls were about to burst out crying the moment he finished speaking. It was a sign that neither one of them would be any help to him, which began to raise his ire. He was just as frustrated by the chances of blubbering and pleading for another chance to please him that was sure to follow as he was that Lucifer had forestalled him again. Humans grated on his nerves.

"We're out, m'lord." One of the girls managed, her large blue eyes filling with tears, bottom lip quivering as she reached up to idly play with her black hair. "But the butter tarts are the next best sellers."

"How long would it take for you to make me some more." He forced himself to stay pleasant, to seem unperturbed. Partially to avoid Sataniel's spies informing their master how upset he was, and else wise to avoid overloading the two women.

He really hated crying humans.

"There will be more tonight." An older witch stood behind him, dressed in a mess of different robes and fabrics, with a thousand different crystals around her throat, on her fingers and dangling from her black dreadlocks. "These girls aren't the bakers."

"Ferya works the night shift. She does the baking." The second of the humans offered, this woman a little sturdier looking with dark brown skin and black hair, her black eyes only shimmered with a bit of wetness.

The Witch still waited behind him and, sensing he wasn't about to move very quickly, she sighed. "Best times to get those things are as the sun is rising, or before the moon rises. They're best when they're fresh, but if they go quick enough, she makes another set as the moon sets."

Sarathiel didn't want to wait till dawn tomorrow and wasn't about to come in at night when Sataniel would surely be waiting for him.

Sarathiel clenched his jaw as he glanced from the old witch to the two humans. "If she came in right now, how long would it take for her to make them? Surely your friend would have no issue making a special order, for the Council." He plied on his sweetest smile, letting them feel every ounce of his desire for them to help him.

The girls wanted to say yes. They wanted with every ounce of their beings to hunt down the baker and drag her here to agree to help him. But then the demon in the corner stood with an audible scraping of her chair on the stone floor and stalked across the coffee shop. "All special orders go through Lucifer, My Lord."

The demon's skin was bluish grey so dark it shimmered black, and he had no clue if she was clothed by a fabric that blended into her skin and clung to her curves, or if she were walking around stark naked. Baby blue eyes watched him with sharp focus, daring him to respond. He recognized General Urdu belatedly, one of Iblis' two legion commanders and possibly the most powerful demon. They could never figure out who would win in a fight, her or Baltha, as the two of them had been oddly unwilling to tear each other apart for Sataniel's favour.

He could destroy her if pressed, they both knew that. But she was working for Sataniel, and he was on Sataniel's property and didn't particularly share some of his brethren's wish to go back to war with their fallen comrade. "Tonight then."

He turned, sidestepping the Witch and walked back through the door, tilting his face up into the sun as he let his eyes trail up to the top floor of the building. He wondered, idly, if this Ferya lived up there, in that very location.

Sarathiel smirked to himself, shaking his head.

He didn't wonder, he knew. He would bet money on the fact that the girl was safe somewhere in that building, under Sataniel's thumb.

Sarathiel could play this game. He was far more charming than Iblis was, he could have the human singing a completely different loyalty by dawn tomorrow. He would come back this evening, ready to meet the mysterious human who wouldn't know what hit her.