At a church two towns over, Adam and Kate were getting married. A quick glance at the time, eleven a.m., and Kyle guessed they were probably just starting the ceremony. Sighing, he twisted the cap off his third beer and drained it. The fourth was in hand seconds later, but he was interrupted when he tried to take a swig.

Doing good today, hmm?

Kyle grumbled, sounding very much like his demon often did.

Did you really want to be writhing in pain in a church?

“You know that’s not it,” he spat, unable to fight back bitter anger.

I know. What do you want me to say? I am sorry you have to miss your friend’s wedding because of me.

Kyle’s frustration withered into shame. “It’s not your fault.”

Really? You think you’d still be sitting home getting trashed on their wedding day if we hadn’t made that contract?

“I probably wouldn’t have Adam as a friend at all if it wasn’t for you.”

Rarely was Ryka rendered speechless, but in Kyle’s head, he could see his other half’s blank expression. How do you figure that?

“I worked with him for years. But the first time we really talked was when I had to explain to him what he saw in that alley.”

He came back to check on you.

“He did.” Kyle leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Sending a check feels inadequate for everything he’s done. And seen.”

Better not to say that Ryka knew exactly how upset Adam was that his friend couldn’t join him on his big day. The disappointment had roiled off him, surrounding him like a dark cloud every time they’d run into the man in the weeks since the bachelor party. Kyle felt shitty enough as it was.

What he needed was a distraction. Wanna fuck later?

“Later? Why wait?” Kyle set his beer down and reached to undo his fly.

While I appreciate your enthusiasm, I meant something a little more involved.

Kyle picked his drink back up. “You said you were still tired from that week you had to stay up with me every night.”

That’s why we should go out while you can still drive.

“I’m failing to make the connection.”

I’m tired. But mostly hungry.

This time when Kyle placed his bottle on the coffee table, it was with a shaking hand. “What are you implying?”

That we go do what you suggested at the bar.

“What I suggested? And what is that?” The pit in his stomach told him he already knew, though.

That we should go hunting.

“I didn’t say that,” Kyle quickly returned. The word had never come out of his mouth. It had tried, but he had quashed it. He hadn’t meant to nearly say it, had never wanted to imply he played an active role in keeping Ryka fed.

Close enough. But I need a meal and you need to get the fuck out of this house. Kyle wanted to argue, but Ryka wasn’t done. And if you wanted to starve me out, you would have done it long ago. You never would have gone back to school after that first time. You would have run for the hills, avoided other people at all costs. But you didn’t.

“I-I-”

Didn’t want me to suffer, even though it meant letting me do my thing.

Words that he never would have spoken aloud. But it didn’t make them any less true. It still horrified him to have any involvement in the things Ryka did to stay well-fed. But letting the demon starve would have meant him getting called home all the sooner. And Kyle didn’t want to be alone again.

“What am I supposed to do?” The question was more for himself than Ryka, but his parasite answered all the same.

Go somewhere with lots of people. Better odds of finding a sinner. Or of them finding you.

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Wasn’t this making him too complicit in what amounted to murder? “I don’t know. I can’t.”

Think of it as vigilante justice. Whoever we find won’t be out there hurting anyone else once I’m through with them.

No, Kyle thought, the only thing they’d be doing is making their way toward an eternity of suffering. The same as him. Whether he blackened his soul further or not. How easily he’d been corrupted. How willing he was to stay on that dark road.

Pushing himself to his feet, he gathered up the empty bottles, adding one more to the bunch before depositing them all in the kitchen sink. In crushing silence, he slipped on a pair of shoes, then stopped in front of the mirror to comb fingers through his hair.

Just as they always were, those massive black wings - so much more impressive now than they had been years ago - stretched open in an apparition behind him. This time, they were quivering with anticipation.

***

It had been far too easy.

All Kyle had needed to do was show up in the city, and sinners flocked to him. He wondered if it was his imagination that he attracted more of society’s dregs every time he left the house. If it was even him they were really drawn to. More likely it was Ryka, he suspected, so much stronger than when they had first met. He was a lodestone for soon-to-be-damned souls.

Either way, Kyle had only needed to spend a couple hours wandering down a bustling Newbury Street to lure in some prey. The bait had been a bulging wallet - stuffed with ones - dangling tantalizingly from his back pocket. Their thief had tailed Kyle for blocks, and it was only thanks to Ryka’s evasive maneuvers - which had likely made Kyle look like he dealt with frequent, near-crippling muscles cramps - that Kyle had avoided actually becoming the victim of a petty crime.

When the young man had begun tailing them, Kyle had silently inquired about the state of their quarry’s soul. He’s got bad habits. And he’s done a lot worse than lift a wallet to keep himself supplied.

Such as? Kyle had wondered.

Whored out his girlfriend. Stabbed his friend. Threatened his brother with the same when they tried to help him quit. At the rate he’s going, he’ll be dead by overdose in a few months anyhow. May as well spare everyone he knows a few weeks of suffering his acquaintance.

So, Kyle had let Ryka awkwardly pilot him away from the crowds, leading the young addict on a meandering tour of Boston’s diciest alleyways. Sunset was still hours away, and there was no way even their desperate stalker would have chased them that long.

A dingy, shadowy dead-end was sufficient. If anyone else had somehow found them, it would have been easy enough for Ryka to will them away.

The young man had been so focused on his target - or maybe so addled by the chemicals he habitually pumped into his veins - that he had never noticed himself being led so astray. Not until it was far too late.

Blinking rapidly as though waking from a trance - Ryka’s influence, Kyle was sure - he had stared in wonder first at Kyle, then their surroundings. “You live around here?” he asked, scanning the damp, mold-covered brick around them.

Feeling any less guilty yet? Kyle’s overwhelming shame that he had agreed to this had proven a delectable appetizer. But even seeing the lengths this person was willing to go - how far he was willing to stalk Kyle - for the possibility of some cash had dulled the guilt considerably.

Kyle had only nodded once. Then he’d let Ryka out, never speaking a word himself to the man whose fate he had helped seal. He’d wished that like a Grim Reaper, Ryka could simply stop a mortal’s heart with a touch. Because watching Ryka toy with, slowly torture, and ultimately skin alive, another human was never going to be something he got used to.

And Ryka had wrung every last drop of fear from his victim. Spilled every last drop of blood, too, judging by the pool spreading out from the cooling corpse. Ryka had kicked it farther into shadows, then crept to a somewhat less vile alley nearby.

“Hanging in there, stud?”

Trying.

“I’ll help you forget it all tonight.”

That’s not going to be easy.

“Challenge accepted.” Ryka pulled a pack of cigarettes out of their back pocket, fished one out, and lit it with a small flame that danced on the tip of his pointer finger. “Sorry again about the wedding.” He followed his apology with a deep drag.

It is what it is. I’ll see the pictures.

“I meant your wedding.”

What? Mine?

“Mm. The one you won’t get to have.”

I don’t need one.

“Need and want aren’t the same.” Too many damned souls had thought they were. This one knew better. Even if he was, as usual, in denial about his desires. There was no hiding them from Ryka, though. Especially not the disappointment of missing out on some of life’s big milestones: getting married, having kids. Trying to bury them only made them that much more obvious. Like dirt on a fresh grave.

You’re being silly, Ryka. I’m fine, Kyle insisted. Besides, what could we say in vows that we haven’t already said? Or done?

Ryka took another deep inhale, letting the smoke out in a slow stream. “This, for starters. There’s no ‘in sickness or health,’ I know - with me, you’ll always have the latter. And I’m glad, because I hate seeing you suffer.

“I’ll always love you, stud, and always obey; at least in bed. And death will only be the start. My soul is just as much yours as yours is mine. It wasn’t in our deal, but I like to think we made a trade. I’ll keep yours, you keep mine. And I told you what I’d give up for you to be spared. Like it or not, I meant it. I plan on getting my fucking way, though. Because I don’t want an eternity without you, either.”

Stunned, Kyle could only stutter. His thoughts were a jumble, and he wondered that he didn’t give Ryka a headache. Finally, they sorted themselves into words worth sharing. There’s no one else I’d trust with my soul, Ry. It was the best deal I ever made. And I hope I can try to do even half as much for you as you do for me. I won’t try to hide it - I’m scared of what’s going to happen. But if a sinner like me is allowed to have faith, I’ll have it. Because I really don’t want this to ever end.

Even as a passenger, Kyle could feel Ryka’s smile. A big, toothy grin. More noticeable, though, was the rapid blinking and watery vision. And you say I’m a sap.

Caught getting misty-eyed, Ryka dropped the butt and ground it out under his heel. “Yeah, yeah. Now let’s get the fuck out of here. I made you a promise.”