At Your Service

Chapter 43- Tugged

Warning: rape mention, gore

The patrons went wild as Ansel tucked the rose behind an ear and sauntered up to the first pole, throwing Carlisle a smirk on the way. As they wrapped one hand around the pole, their hands ignited in plum purple fire. Gasps of shock and awe filled the audience as the other hand also ignited. They grabbed it with both hands and leaned back before suddenly launching themselves at the next pole like a slingshot and wrapping their legs around it. They spun around it a couple of times, letting their hands hang in the air and make purple rings of fire, before heading to the next one, like vines in a jungle. They repeated this until they made it to the last pole. They dropped to the ground on their feet, a little unsteady, and shot a jet of fire above the crowd. Instead of fire raining down on them, tiny snowflakes floated down.

"Carlisle," Ansel thought to themselves as they caught flowers out of the air; the ones they couldn't reach, they made them explode into only petals.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"I am not making a contract with you."

Carlisle raised his eyebrows in surprise as he stood off to the side, watching with pride. "Oh?"

Ansel gave one last bow. "ANSEL VANDIVER, EVERYONE!" Ashley yelled over the microphone. The crowd lost it, screaming and clapping. The witch gave one last bow before heading back towards Carlisle, who immediately locked eyes with them.

"I realize now that I merely have to order you to do it."

The demon chuckled to himself. "Indeed."

"Then, I order you to, if I am to almost die unnaturally, make me a demon before that, so I can live with you forever. Otherwise, I will die of old age as planned. Do you understand?"

Carlisle grinned wide as he stared straight at them. "Yes, my Lord." When Ansel reached him, they stood side by side. The demon sighed. "I have never wanted to ruin anyone more than I do right now."

Ansel scowled and tilted their head a little. "Who do you mean? Ashley?"

Carlisle chuckled again. "Heavens, no," his voice purred inside the witch's head. "You're the only one who gets to receive that pleasure now." Chills ran down their spine.

There were a couple of new demons who, like Ansel, received the pleasure of having their debut performances. Ansel and Carlisle watched together for a short while before two angels approached each of them at the same time.

"Master Waldren has requested your company, Mr. Lomen," the angel in front of Carlisle informed the demon.

"Madam Waldren has requested your company, Mr. Vandiver," the angel in front of Ansel informed the witch in the same exact tone, as if they were robots, programmed to sound so similar.

Ansel's heart hammered against their sternum. "Certainly," Carlisle said whilst bowing his head. Ansel did the same but stayed silent. As they parted towards the two back corners of the room, they descended into the crowd, who gave them space to walk but also wanted to get close. The witch could barely hear what the angels around him were trying to say to him, but, judging by their looks and tones, they were all praises.

"Don't be frightened," Carlisle's voice echoed in Ansel's head. "We have the plan. Everything will be fine." Ansel nodded to himself in agreement as they approached the curtain hiding the throne that Ashley's wife would be in.

He slipped through the curtain to find only darkness, not even a throne. There was a hole in the back wall that led into a larger room, dimly lit. In the centre of the room was the throne. In it sat a woman dressed in a black lace dress that was entirely sheer. She was tall and elegant-looking. She had fair skin and curly chocolate brown hair flowing down to her elbows. Her eyes were blue, just like her husband's.

"Come forward, darling," she beckoned in a sweet voice. Ansel closed the curtain before walking into the next room. The only light came from the moon as it shone through the glass roof. "Take off your shoes, please." Ansel stopped walking and took off their stilettos and placed them neatly on the ground before continuing to approach. "You're a cute little demon, aren't you?" the angel cooed.

Ansel nodded, unsure if they were allowed to speak or not. They now stood in front of the altar. "Come now, don't be shy," she chuckled as she held out her arms, offering out her hands. Ansel took them both and gasped a little as the angel tugged them onto her lap so Ansel straddled her. "There we go." She ran her hands through Ansel's hair. "So precious but powerful... your soul must have been quite the treat for whatever demon turned you, hmm?" Ansel nodded again.

"Carlisle, this is getting super personal," Ansel whispered into the demon's head.

"Just go with it. I'm almost there." Carlisle had gotten extremely personal with Ashley. He must have been doing a good enough job at pretending he wasn't about to tear out the angel's throat. Of course, Carlisle was putting a little seduction spell on him so he was a bit more eager to cooperate. "His guard is down." Carlisle straddled Ashley, just like Ansel did the angel's wife, and was kissing him like his life depended on it (which it might have). It was quite the love triangle... or was it a parallelogram of sorts?

The wife suddenly hummed. "Sorry, darling," she mumbled against Ansel's lips. The witch gasped in shock and pain as they felt a burning in their chest and stomach. They stumbled off of the angel and her throne and onto the floor before beginning to cough up blackish-purple blood: Carlisle's demon blood. "You're not a real demon."

Ashley's wife knew the moment her husband was dead. She immediately stood up from her throne, wide-eyed and jaw dropped. "You..." she hissed. "Your butler..."

Ansel stood as Carlisle entered, mouth, neck, and chest covered in silver angel blood. In one hand, he held the dead, still heart of Ashley Waldren; in the other, he held his spine and spinal cord, which hung limply. He dropped both when he saw Ashley's wife. His eyes narrowed and his bloody fists clenched. Darkness seeped out of him like smoke, as if he were burning.

"You're not Carlisle Vanson anymore," the angel chuckled darkly.

"And you're not Forrest Aingeal anymore," the demon muttered. He began walking forwards. "You're still Iriel, however: the Defiler of Minds, the Raper of Reapers."