A human.

In Hell.

No matter how many times Cobalt went over it in his head, it still made no sense. He had left Alison to her own devices for the better part of a week, and though she promised not to bother him, he only found himself growing more and more anxious. Already, people were starting to noticed odd occurrences around town. Bins were being rifled through in the night, a few hardware stores were reporting missing stock, and a rumour had been spread amongst the first-years that there was a hidden lake in the park that was haunted by some malevolent spirit.

Laying on his back, Cobalt stared at the ceiling of his dorm room. He had been worrying about the human scientist all night, robbing him of what few hours of sleep he needed to face the day. Reaching across his futon, the Incubus sighed and shut his alarm off before it had a chance to ring.

"Get it together, Trayer..." he murmured aloud.

"Aw, don't be so hard on yourself, sugar! It's far too early for that!" piped a cheerful voice from the kitchen, prompting him to groan.

"Karazelle, what are you doing?"

Though his gaze was still firmly locked with the ceiling, he could hear the Succubus clattering through his cookware cupboard.

"Well, I thought I'd come and cook you breakfast. Y'know, like newlyweds."

"But such a thing is-"

"Shush, I know that. Nothing wrong with a little roleplaying, is there?"

Far too exhausted to argue with the Succubus' infallible logic, he deigned to hold off on reprimanding her, just this once. At least she had forgone her usual lurid advances, and had even done him the kindness of making him breakfast. Rubbing his eyes, Cobalt sat up in the futon and made to thank Karazelle, only to immediately recoil upon seeing her.

"Wh- What the Hell are you wearing?!" he cried, holding his hands up to his eyes.

Swinging a ladle over her shoulder, she raised an eyebrow and twirled around, smiling innocently all the while.

"It's an apron, sugar!"

"A- And nothing else?!"

Her smile widened, becoming markedly less innocent.

"Well I said we'd be roleplaying newlyweds, didn't I~?"

Setting the cookware aside, Karazelle slowly strutted over to her teacher, giggling as she straddled him atop the futon covers. He responded as he always did; with his eyes covered and his cheeks burning.

"But I won't delude myself. I'm a shit cook, so..."

Leaning closer, she planted her hands either side of his head and forced him to lie back down. Even through the covers, he could feel the pressure of her chest pressing against his own. Her breath was hot on his flushed cheeks, and as Karazelle closed in on his ear, he became uncomfortably aware of how tenuously thin her apron was.

"How about you have me for breakfast instead~?"

"D- Don't be ridiculous! I told you before; student-teacher f- fraternisation is strictly forbidden!"

"There's no teachers or students in the bedroom sugar, not unless you're into that kinda play~!"

As she playfully nipped his ear, Cobalt let out an embarrassing scream, which delighted his errant student to no end. But as she made to step up her advances, the pair were suddenly frozen in place by a loud knock on the dorm room door. Eyes wide, Karazelle backed away from her teacher, her seductive gaze replaced with one of concern. Swallowing hard, the Incubus leaped to his feet and silently gestured for his student to hide somewhere. With a nod, she flitted into his bathroom and shut the door with her tail, leaving Cobalt alone in his room as the knocking grew louder.

"Mr. Trayer, you better not be still asleep!" a familiarly irate voice caused, prompting his heart to begin hammering faster.

"C- Coming!"

Stumbling over himself on his way to the door, the Incubus took a moment to smooth down his nightshirt before he unlocked the door. Before he was given a chance to open it, however, it was flung open by his visitor, smashing the cheap wood into his face and bowling him back onto his futon.

"Absolutely disgraceful. How can you expect to become a teacher when you behave this slovenly?" an arrogant woman spoke, storming into the middle of the dorm room.

Wincing as he rubbed his forehead, Cobalt looked up at the Fallen before him with a furrowed brow.

If there was one thing to be said about Martha Cain, it was that she bore an uncanny resemblance to a wrought iron fence; hard, cold and pointy. Despite the early hour, she was already fully bedecked in a teacher's suit, and upon appraising Cobalt's disheveled appearance, she clucked her tongue and pushed her thick glasses up her long nose.

"Ever the latecomer, be he student or teacher," she chided in an unpleasant tone.

"Good morning to you too, Martha," Cobalt retorted, climbing back to his feet.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

As a rule, the Incubus always tried to be polite in conversation, but the one exception to that rule was Miss Cain. She was a hard-nosed teacher of Mathematics and Business, and was as conservative as they came. According to her, to teach was a woman's job, and discipline came before all else. She was the core teacher of 2-A, a class filled with overachievers, and never wasted an opportunity to compare her students to his.

It certainly didn't help that she was Cobalt's own core teacher, back when he was a student...

"I imagine you didn't get the memo, given how you're still half-asleep."

"Do enlighten me."

Harrumphing, Martha folded her arms.

"All second-years are to reported to the assembly hall for a seminar on cardiopulmonary resuscitation and other emergency practices. That's CPR, if you didn't know."

"I know what it is, Martha, and I didn't forget. I already told my students about it yesterday," Cobalt scowled, switching his kettle on.

His colleague nodded and ran a finger across the top of his chest of drawers, checking for dust like a fussy cleaner.

"And did you ever stop to think who would be giving such a presentation?"

"I imagine the Headmistress brought somebody up from the general practice."

Martha suddenly burst out laughing, startling the Incubus to the point where he nearly spilled boiling water all over himself. Shooting her an irate glare, the Fallen responded with a smug smirk and leaned against the wall, dangerously close to the bathroom door.

Cobalt's heart skipped a beat. If she found Karazelle in his room, he would be finished...

"Of course not! Why, it's our own Nurse Yalfre who shall be giving the presentation!" she announced with humourless glee.

This time, Cobalt really did spill the kettle. Splashing hot water all over the floor of his kitchenette, he slipped on the puddle and staggered back into the fridge.

"Sh- She is?!"

"Oh yes, and don't think I've forgotten what she's like. Everybody else in this school may be fooled by her little façade, but I assure you Mr. Trayer, I am not. If she step out of line, I am holding you responsible," Martha stated, pointing a gnarled finger at the Incubus.

Slamming the kettle into the sink, Cobalt marched forward.

"That's not fair! You can't hold me accountable for somebody else's actions!" he cried indignantly.

"I can when it's her! That girl is a monster, and I will not tolerate her on this campus any longer than I need to! Did you know she killed Ethan's pet rabbit last week?"

"And do you have proof?"

"What proof do I need?! One day Zespire Jr. was happily hopping about his hutch, the next his pelt had been nailed to the door of the housekeeper's office! The man's heartbroken!"

Cobalt swallowed hard. Admittedly, that did sound like something Elya would do. As horrible as it sounded to say, though, he preferred her taking her violent inhibitions out on animals than students, so he kept his mouth shut and attempted to steer the topic of conversation away as he began to mop up the water with a cloth.

"Well, I'm sure you'll be one step behind him to offer him a hand. Wouldn't be unusual for you to trip over yourself for Ethan Zespire's sake," Cobalt spat, his words laced with venom.

This time it was Martha's turn to be outraged. Baring her teeth, she slammed an angry fist against the bathroom door, causing Cobalt to flinch.

"H- How dare you! Ethan is a colleague, and you'd do well to show him the same amount of respect I do!"

He fixed her with a furrowed glare.

"No thank you, I'd rather not get saddled with a harassment case. How did that go for you, by the way?"

"Y- You little-!"

"I was surprised to hear about it, honestly. I figured you would have stopped chasing after him by now."

"You better watch your damn tongue, Trayer!"

"I'm just saying, Martha. You're not his type."

"AND JUST WHAT THE FUCK WOULD YOU KNOW ABOUT ETHAN'S TYPE, YOU LITTLE SHIT?!"

With a sigh, Cobalt stopped mopping up the spillage for a moment and began to count on his fingers.

"Let's see... I'm fairly certain he likes the larger lover. More into the quiet, bookish types, too. Oh yes, I almost forgot; he's into men, Martha."

She scoffed, but was obviously getting flustered.

"Of course, leave it to the likes of you to know everyone's personal preferences!" she growled, folding her arms.

"Wow, you're really going there? I didn't know you wanted to go down for racial harassment too."

"Put it back in the deck, Trayer! You know what I mean!"

"What was is you said to me during my interview? 'Incubi don't belong in teaching jobs', was that it? So where do I belong, Martha? Tell me."

"You know as well as I do...!"

His gaze darkened.

"I want to hear you say it," hissed Cobalt.

Her dark cheeks had gone an angry shade of red. For a few moments, Martha Cain blustered a few unintelligible sentences at her own defense, before she released a frustrated scream and stormed out of the dorm room, leaving Cobalt by himself once more. As soon as he heard her footsteps echo away into nothing, the Incubus set the washcloth aside and collapsed onto his knees, feeling weak all over.

Even after all these years, arguing with Martha was still a terrifying experience, and yet he had a difficult time holding back the vitriol whenever things got heated.

His nerves eventually subsided, giving way to a deep melancholy. Truth was, her words had cut deep that day, and he had a hard time coming to terms with them.

"Incubi don't belong in teaching jobs. They belong in a damn cell."

He was dimly alerted to the sound of his bathroom door swinging open. Karazelle - still bedecked in an apron - cautiously stepped out into the dorm room, eyes wide with amazement.

"Wow. That was just... wow. I didn't know you could be so catty, sugar," she commented, nodding approvingly.

He waved her remark away and pulled himself off the floor.

"No, no, it's just... well, Martha and I have a rather bumpy history, and I don't think time has done much to improve either of our attitudes towards one another," Cobalt sighed, fixing to make another attempt at having some tea.

"Still, I can't believe she has a thing for Mr. Zespire. I mean, him and Mr. Hersh being a thing is like the school's worst-kept secret."

"Heh, I suppose you're right..."

"Hey, sugar? What was that at the end? Before she left?"

Cobalt went quiet. As he meticulously set about making two mugs of tea, he stared off into the middle distance, Martha's words still ringing in his head, over and over. For the longest time he had wondered why he had never met another Incubus, but when he finally learned the answer, he direly wished he hadn't. There were some cases were ignorance truly was bliss.

Taking a deep breath, he set the teabags into the mugs and handed one to Karazelle, who politely accepted.

"Let's just say that I'm better off with Everlast Syndrome than I am without it," he answered after a long period of silence.

As he gently stirred his tea, Karazelle just nodded and deigned to push the issue no further. The pair said not a word as he drank his tea and she merely stared at hers. By the time he had finished, she had set her still-full mug aside and had clambered onto the windowsill.

"Well, I better go get ready for this seminar, thing. Seeya later, sugar."

"Take care getting back across."

"Oh you know I will!"

With that, Karazelle zipped back across the support beam, leaving the Incubus on his own. With a sigh, he stepped over to his wardrobe and pulled it open, ready to face the day, whether he liked it or not. As he made to grab one of the several identical shirts he owned, however, Cobalt caught his own gaze in the mirror. He stared at himself for a while, tracking his gaze from the yellow horns upon his head to the small black wings upon his back.

"They belong in a damn cell..."