Karazelle sat upon her bed in complete silence, staring the object cradled within her hand. It was an old school tie, worn with age and crusted with dried blood and sweat. It smelled bad, and churned her stomach to look at, but she had been carrying it around in her pocket for days now. She just... couldn't get rid of it. But neither could she hold on to it. Not forever.
Returning it to her pocket, she looked around her room. Gone were the posters and the lights, all packed away into boxes. Three years in this little room of her own, and now she was expected to just get a move on with her life. Even after everything that had happened. The only thing that remained was the mirror on the wall, and that was because it was just too big to pack away.
For a moment, Karazelle stared at herself, and was met with a miserable-looking Succubus. Her eyes were ringed with sleeplessness, and her arm was in a sling. She wore a high-collared shirt, just to hide the marks on her neck. They weren't going to fade, at least not for a while.
"... Get it together..." she murmured, standing up.
Even those words no longer carried the same comfort they once did.
No, she couldn't just rot in her room forever. Hell, it wouldn't even be her room for much longer. She had to do something.
The Succubus' gaze drifted over to her phone, sitting over on the empty desk.
... Maybe she could kill two birds with one stone...?
Swiping it up, she scrolled through her contacts for a moment before dialing a number, feeling a pit of uncertainty well in her gut as it began to ring. She turned - almost instinctively - to gaze out the window at the room just across from hers, the two sills connected by a support beam.
It was dark. Empty.
Karazelle didn't know what she was expecting to see.
"Hello...?" spoke the voice on the other end of the line, startling Karazelle.
She sounded miserable, her voice roughened from days of tears. The voice of a broken woman.
"Hi, Jezebel, I'm real sorry to bother you after-"
"Karazelle honey? Is that you?"
"Yeah, it's me. Listen, there's something I've got that I think you should have."
"Is it...?"
Karazelle swallowed hard.
"... Yeah. It's his."
Jezebel Trayer didn't speak for a moment. She could hear her heavy breaths as she did her best to steady herself.
"... O- Okay, honey. I'm in town today anyway, killing time before I... Would you be able to meet me outside of the hospital?"
"Of course. I'll be there as soon as I can."
"Thank you. And Karazelle?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you okay?"
She frowned, unsure of how to answer.
"I'm just fine, Jezebel. Don't you worry about me," she lied.
"O- Okay. I'll see you later then, honey. Take care."
The call ended with a beep.
Karazelle slipped the phone into her pocket and sighed. Out of all the people impacted, Jezebel Trayer had it the worst. She couldn't get the image of her crying out of her head; barely able to stand as Brass' coffin was carried into the Brimstone Penance Abbey. Damn near the entire town attended his funeral, Karazelle included. But while the minister spoke about the many heroic deeds of the late Hellhound, all Karazelle could think about was how he appeared in his final moments; spent and paralysed, using the last shreds of his willpower to convince his son that he wasn't suffering. That man did everything for the town, and his reward was little more than a closed-casket service.
It wasn't fair.
"Fuck..." Karazelle sighed, holding her head in her hand.
No, she was ruminating again. She couldn't fall into that trap.
She had to get out of this room, if only just to get rid of the tie.
Stepping out of her room, Karazelle found herself passing by many of the other girls as they went about gradually moving out of the student dorms. Boxes were piled in the hall, doors lay open to reveal empty rooms, and people's parents milled about, though they all averted their gazes as she passed. She was used to it my now; the Headmistress' hellion daughter, who not only almost gassed the entire school, but also wound up with a front row seat to almost-the-end-of-the-world. Nobody really knew what happened inside the Tempered Bastion, and neither Karazelle nor any of the others were willing to tell.
It was something they'd take to their graves.
Going down a few flights of stairs, she paused and took a quick detour on the third floor, eventually ending up outside Izzbelle's room. She lingered outside for a moment, wondering if it was a good idea to knock. They hadn't spoken since the all stumbled back out of the Tempered Bastion, after all. Not even at Brass Trayer's funeral.
Swallowing hard, Karazelle eventually made the decision to rap her knuckles against the door. For a moment there was silence, before she heard soft footsteps padding up to the door, followed by the lock turning. It opened just a crack, revealing none other than Jelli.
The poor girl looked miserable, her eyes still red and puffy from how much she had cried over the past few days. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at Karazelle's face, her lower lip already wobbling at the sight of her friend.
"Oh, Jelli. Is Izzbelle in?" she asked, trying to look past the Glutton.
"Um... Y- Yes, but... she's busy packing," Jelli answered, opening the door enough to step out into the hall.
They both stood there for a moment; the Glutton fiddling with her braids as Karazelle struggled to find something to say. She couldn't blame Jelli for her apprehension. After all, it was the Succubus' fault that they were in the Bastion to begin with, and she had the feeling that even Jelli wasn't above blaming her for that. And when Lilith shoved them into the elevator and told them to run, it was Karazelle who deigned to disobey and run back into the chamber, forcing the rest of them to stay and wait in the lift, effectively stranding them.
She put all of her friends at risk. There was no forgiving that.
"Do you guys need any help?" Karazelle asked, scratching the back of her head.
Jelli frowned and gave her a half shrug.
"We, um... we'll be fine, I think."
"Right... so... what's the plan?"
She shrugged again.
"I don't know. Izzbelle's family are going to pick us up, then... um..."
The Glutton trailed off. Karazelle had seen her downtrodden before, but this...? This looked like a different kind of low for Jelli. Seeing Cobalt's body like that must have broken something irreparably.
"What about long-term? What's next for the great Adeline Pharmine?" the Succubus asked, trying to force a smile.
"... I got good grades, so... um... I was thinking of looking into universities. Maybe up north."
"Never doubted you for a second. How did Izzbelle do?"
"She did okay. Mr. Trayer's supplementary classes were enough to..."
Her voice began to crack at the mere mention of Cobalt's name.
"Yeah, I got my results too," Karazelle quickly said in an effort to change the subject.
Everyone did. Given the massive upheaval that occurred, the final exams that Cobalt had spent the entire year preparing for never got to occur. Once the danger had passed, the school board quickly convened to discuss how to press forward, and eventually they settled on an average grade for all of the third year students. For students like Quinn and Izzbelle who fared terribly in exams, this was a small mercy. For high achievers like Jelli, there was nothing to worry about.
But for students like Karazelle, who had neglected her work throughout the year in the hopes of cramming for the final exams...
"Jelli! Who the fuck is it?!" the voice of Izzbelle barked from inside, startling them both.
The Glutton's eyes widened.
"You should probably go, Karazelle. Sh- She's just stressed, and... her nose still hurts... es tut mir leid..."
The Succubus shook her head. No, she wasn't accepting that. If Izzbelle had a problem with her, she could say it to her face.
"Izzbelle, it's me! How're you doing, tiger?" Karazelle called.
The floor shook as the Oni stomped across her room. She nearly ripped the door off its hinges as she stormed out into the hall, forcing Karazelle to stagger away from Jelli as she got all up in her face. Much like everyone else, she was in a bad way, though she was visibly worse than the rest. A thick bandage covered the bridge of her nose, concealing the horrific gash Cobalt left upon her face.
She had every right to be angry. At Cobalt, and at Karazelle. Seeing her rush back into the fray like that, the Oni must have thought she sympathised with the Incubus. She couldn't exactly refute that, either.
"The fuck do you want?!" Izzbelle spat, her voice slightly stuffed by her blocked nose.
Between the smell of sweat, her casual tank-top and the sight of the bare room behind her, Karazelle got the feeling that the Oni was all packed up and ready to leave.
"I just wanted to check on you. See how you were holding up," the Succubus answered carefully.
"I don't need your fuckin' concern! And neither does Jelli!"
She jabbed Karazelle in the chest with a pointed finger.
"You abandoned us! For that fuckin'-!"
The Succubus grabbed her finger.
"I didn't abandon you, Izzbelle. And I didn't abandon him either. The world's not that black and white."
"You're gonna be black and blue if you keep pissin' me off!"
"Oh really? You're gonna beat up a woman with use of only one arm? What's Jelli gonna think?"
"DON'T YOU BRING HER INTO THIS!"
Izzbelle raised her fist, ready to strike, but Karazelle didn't flinch. After everything she had been through - after witness the pinnacle of violence - something like this just didn't scare her. The Oni recognised the look in her eye, and just slowly lowered her hand.
"Jelli said she's thinking of heading north for uni. You going with her?" the Succubus asked in a calm voice as she adjusted the strap of her sling.
"... Maybe. Don't wanna stick around Brimstone."
That made sense. The Tempered Bastion still dominated the horizon; a stark reminder of the horrors that took place within.
"Yeah, can't say I blame you. Just... take care of Jelli, alright?"
Izzbelle glared at her, glancing from one eye to the other, her face twisted with confusion.
"Who's side are you on, Karazelle? One minute you're sayin' Cobalt's beyond savin', the next you're ditchin' us for him," the Oni asked in a low, serious tone.
"... Like I said, it's not that black and white. There's no sides to take."
"He ripped my fuckin' face open! How is that-?!"
"He wasn't in his right mind!"
"And that's a valid excuse to you?!"
"I don't know, Izzbelle! I don't fucking know! I don't wanna lose anyone, so stop trying to make me pick!" Karazelle screamed suddenly, starling the Oni.
Everyone else in the hall was staring at her. As she caught her breath, the Succubus looked past Izzbelle to see Jelli cowering in the entrance to the Oni's room. She clung to the door, nervously peeking around it. Swallowing hard, Karazelle took a shuddering breath and raised her hand in surrender.
"I'm sorry, I... just take care. Both of you. I... I'm sorry."
She stormed off before either of them could say anything, already regretting her decision to check on them. In what world was that in any way a good idea? If the past few weeks has taught her anything, it's that anything she tried to do for others only ever wound up hurting them. She didn't know if it was some kind of cosmic punishment for daring to think she was capable of helping anyone, but at that moment, Karazelle just wanted to get the Hell outside.
As she tromped down to the ground floor, the housekeeper look up from her desk and called for the Succubus' attention.
"Miss Terna? There's a letter here for you," she said, sliding an envelope over to her.
"From who?" Karazelle asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I don't know. It was already waiting on my desk when I arrived this morning."
Frowning, she ripped the envelope open with her teeth and shook the letter free. It was simple, unadorned paper, with a message inked in black.
Let's talk. Brimstone Nature Park, by the lake. I'll be waiting.
No name, no signature, not even a return address. Despite the lack of identification, Karazelle already had a decent idea as to who sent it. Just another stressor to add to the pile.
With a cursory nod to the housekeeper, the Succubus stepped outside and took a deep, shuddering breath. The fresh air was usually so clarifying, but for some reason it took her quite some time to calm down.
For the first time in her entire life, Karazelle had outbursted. At this point everyone had been through it; it was an expected - albeit dangerous - aspect of growing up. But whereas Izzbelle's outburst had been triggered by rage, and Jelli's by fear, hers was... what, exactly? When she stood there, facing down the thing that Cobalt had become, it was like her mind just refused to accept the reality. After all these months of staying strong, she felt like something finally broke, filling her with a deep-seated sense of cold, hollow numbness.
It was so easy to tell herself that the Incupsychotic beast before her simply wasn't him. That it was something else. That it had taken Cobalt - the sweet, gentle man she knew so well - from her.
He hated him for what he had done. She hated herself for allowing herself to believe that she hated him. She hated her mother for making him what he was. She hated it. All of it.
Cobalt... Karazelle didn't know how she felt about him anymore. She couldn't forgive him, and she couldn't blame him.
The Succubus felt like getting sick. So she tried to stop thinking about it, and instead pushed on down the path.
B.I.D. had suffered greatly in its transition between school campus and refugee camp, and in the days following Lucifer's defeat in the Tempered Bastion, many of the townsfolk still lived in and around the school. The entire central part of town had been completely demolished, and though the worst of the danger was over with, their homes were still gone.
"Whoretits?"
Freezing up, Karazelle slowly turned to see Whitney Brode sitting with her back against one of the ashbirches lining the path, her guitar sitting braced against her lap. Despite her destroyed prosthetic, she was idly strumming at the strings, occasionally stopping to scribble something in a notebook. The Nymph stared up at her, eyes filled with uncertainty.
It seemed everyone was rocking that look these days.
"What's up?" the Succubus asked.
"You okay?"
She cocked her head.
"Are you okay?"
Whitney looked down at her missing arm and waved the stump back and forth.
"Dunno. I mean, it was just, like, a medical prosthesis. Won't be too hard to get another."
"That's not what I'm asking."
"Hey, I asked you first."
Sighing, Karazelle sat down next to her for a moment. The grass was yellowed and dry.
"What was it like when you outbursted?" she asked, turning to her friend.
Whitney shrugged and scribbled down in her notebook. Notes. She was penning a song.
"Y'know, after everything, I had almost forgotten that happened."
"But what was it like?"
"I dunno. Not great, anyway. I just felt really, like, small and overwhelmed, then... next thing I know the entire house was pulled into an illusion, and there was, like, a thousand different versions of me, all walking around," she explained, idly plucking one of the strings.
"Sounds like a nightmare to me," Karazelle said with a small smile.
The Nymph matched it in kind, but it quickly faded.
"... That was your first time, right? In the Bastion?"
With a frown, the Succubus nodded.
"... Yeah. Didn't know it was even possible to use someone's memories against them like that. Didn't realise until I'd done it."
"You were outbursting. Weren't in control. Happens to everyone at least once or twice."
"I know, but it's not supposed to happen to me, Whitney."
Raising an eyebrow, the Nymph cocked her head.
"What do you mean?"
"It's just... I dunno. Everything's fucked."
"Yeah... you can say that again."
The two sat there for a moment, staring out at nothing in particular as the hot summer wind blustered over them.
Everything that had happened, the tragedies that had occurred... Karazelle thought the weather should be worse. Overcast skies, driving rain, perhaps a storm to split the sky apart... Anything to reflect the horrific loss of life that the town had witnessed. Brass Trayer was dead. Dozens more demons had been killed. Homes were destroyed. The town was crippled. In every sad story in every book she had ever read, the weather would have been cold and wet and dour and sad.
But no. It was a beautiful, sunny day. And for some reason that made the Succubus' heart twinge all the more.
"Where will you go, after this?" she asked, looking over at her.
"I'm thinking of travelling with Gulliver, and hopefully get my career off the ground."
"Nice, nice. Gonna write any songs about all of this?"
Whitney stopped writing for a moment, silent as she processed the question.
"... Probably not. I'd-"
"Rather forget any of this happened?"
The Nymph nodded, prompting a heavy sigh from Karazelle.
"... Yeah. You and everyone else."
She made to stand up, only for Whitney to grab her arm.
"I meant I want to forget the bad stuff. Not the stuff I enjoyed. Not you."
"... I gotta go, Butterskin. There's someone I gotta meet."
"Karazelle-"
"I'll see you around."
Guilt gnawed at her, and though she couldn't fathom why, she couldn't stand how nauseous it made her feel. All these months she spent constantly bickering with Whitney, and yet the Nymph saw her as a good thing? It just didn't sit right. It didn't make sense. Not after everything she had done.
She quickened her pace, ignoring Whitney's pleas as she hurried down the path, feeling her heartrate spike with every step. Passing through the main campus, she noticed a group of the Iron Hound Faithful clustered around the wall, hurriedly painting something while a few of their friends kept watch for any of the staff. Nobody really knew exactly what happened inside the Bastion, but that didn't stop the rumours from circulating. When the Devils retreated and eventually disappeared, it was the Iron Hound Faithful who decreed that it was Cobalt who drove them out after smiting their leader, Lucifer himself. They weren't entirely wrong, per se, but to hear them tell it, they made it seem as though the Incubus barely broke a sweat.
But the rest of the town just ate that version of events up, and given how desperate folks were for guidance, the Iron Hound Faithful's numbers only grew.
Leaving them to their petty vandalism, Karazelle tried to push on towards the front gates, only to wind up almost blundering straight into Elya.
It seemed fate transpired to place absolutely everyone in her path today.
The Fallen stopped in her tracks, emerald eyes wide and gleaming upon noticing the Succubus in her midst. The pair stared at one another in silence for a moment, allowing Karazelle to flick her gaze downwards. Elya was carrying a bunch of cleaning supplies in her arms; a brush, bottles of detergent, and a bucket filled with water.
Karazelle didn't know what to think of her anymore. A psychotic stalker and wannabe murderer for all the time she knew her, and now she was just... this. Meek, silent and skittish. A complete one-eighty.
"... Hey," Karazelle finally said, feeling more than a little awkward.
The Fallen frowned and set her equipment down on the ground. Pulling a notebook and a pen from her pocket, she quickly scribbled something down and showed it to her.
It's nice to finally talk to you properly. In a manner of speaking.
"It's, uh... nice to finally talk to you, too," the Succubus responded.
Elya smiled. It was small and sad, like she was still getting used to it.
I wish it were under better circumstances.
"Yeah... me too."
Karazelle peered back at the Iron Hound Faithful. They were making another one of their murals; the kind they had been painting all over town for the past week. A poor depiction of Cobalt triumphing over the Devils, all made in very bad taste.
"I guess you're here to take that shit down," she remarked, nodding at the bucket of water.
Elya stared at the picture of Cobalt for a moment before nodding sadly, flipping the page to write out a new message.
He wouldn't want to be remembered this way.
"Yeah..."
It's all I can do, really.
"Can't you help out in the infirmary?"
Elya stared down at the ground for a moment. Karazelle clearly touched a nerve, but before she could apologise, the Fallen scrawled out another note.
Not anymore.
"But-"
The scratching of the pen grew louder, throwing the Succubus off entirely. Clearly frustrated, Elya tore the page out and presented it to her.
I plan on relearning everything, any way I can. Once all is well here, I'll enroll in a medical university. Perhaps then I can make up for all the malpractice.
"So you're leaving Brimstone?"
I have little reason to stay.
"... You too, huh...?"
Elya pulled a pained expression. She scribbled fervently, stopping only to look sympathetically into Karazelle's eyes. Her words were trailing off the lines of the pages as the Fallen struggled to note down exactly how she felt.
I miss him too. And I regret to leave things like this. But this school and this town hold too many painful memories. I just want to get my life back.
"... Yeah, understand."
With a heavy sigh, the Succubus picked up the bucket of water, puzzling the erstwhile nurse.
"Here, lemme give you a hand," she said, turning to the Iron Hound Faithful.
Most of them were students of B.I.D., though Karazelle recognised a few of the refugees from Brimstone proper. She strode towards them, alerting their lookout, but before he could begin to spout whatever psuedo-religious nonsense he doubtlessly already had locked and loaded, she swung the bucket at the entire crowd, soaking both them and the wall they were painting.
"Get outta here, all of you!" she yelled, pointing towards the school's gates.
As they shrieked and recoiled, one brave girl - bearing strange blue markings painted upon her face - spoke up.
"We're only-!" she began, only to wind up with a face full of plastic bucket.
"I'm not gonna tell you twice! Get gone, now!"
They scattered like rats, running for the hills as the Succubus stood there menacingly, her lungs heaving as her heart hammered. Time was she could end a conflict peacefully, but she just didn't have the strength anymore. Though his reasoning wavered the longer time went all, she always admired Cobalt's commitment to his pacifistic ideals, even when they got him beaten half-senseless at the end of the day. But demons were beings of violence, down to their cores, and Karazelle was never an exception. She learned that well enough in the Bastion.
Elya crept up behind her and placed a concerned hand on the Succubus' shoulder. Her first instinct was to flinch away from the Fallen's touch, but in the past few months, her icy fingers had grown just that little bit warmer.
To think even someone like Elya Yalfre could look to turn over a new leaf... At this rate, she was going to be left behind.
"I'm alright. Hey, I never got to say this before, but...take care of yourself, Elya," Karazelle sighed, patting her hand.
She just bowed her head solemnly, feeling no need to convey anything through words. As she got to work, the Succubus continued on the long pathway out of the school, doing everything in her power to keep her eyes on the gravel beneath her feet. She passed by Mr. Hersh and Mr. Zespire at the gates; once again taking up their unofficial roles as entrance guards. But as she crossed the threshold, her phone began to ring.
Her blood turned to ice upon noting the name of the contact vying for her attention.
She answered the call.
"I told you I've said all I'm willing to say."
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
"Karazelle, please."
Gritting her teeth, she turned to glare at the main school building behind her. There, standing behind the window at the very top floor was the silhouette of Viola Terna.
"You've been through a lot; more than one person can handle. Why don't you just-?"
"I'm done, Momma. I'm done with this town. I'm done with this school. And most importantly, I'm done with you. I don't care if I drown out there in the 'real world', just so long as I'm drowning far away from here."
"Kara-"
"Don't call me again."
She ended the call and marched onwards, determined to leave her old life far behind. She could see the writing on the wall, and it wasn't just the crappy Iron Hound Faithful nonsense that had been cropping up all over town as of late. No, Karazelle knew that wherever she was going in life, she was going to walk that path alone. In one fell swoop - in one chain of bad decisions - she had irreparably damaged what few friendships she had left. She was all by herself. Her mother couldn't be trusted. The town itself felt like a corpse of what it once was.
And the man who made it all seem okay was gone.
There was no point in dwelling on it. But she couldn't not dwell on it either. Once again she found herself stuck right in the middle.
It was pathetic.
"... Gotta go..." she breathed, urging herself to step through the gates.
Once her business here was done, she made up her mind to leave.
To where? She didn't know.
And in all honesty, Karazelle didn't really care.
-----
Even the Brimstone Nature Park had fallen victim to the dour mood that had settled over the town. The plants and trees all around Karazelle were dry and yellowed from the heatwave, while dust and chunks of concrete littered the lake and the surrounding area. There were no birds to be heard. No rustling in the brush. Not even any ripples in the water, not now that the waterfall had dried up. It felt dead and lifeless, just like the rest of Brimstone.
Sat on the bench facing the water, she stared down at her hands. Some nights she could still feel it; the hot, thick blood caked between her fingers. She didn't even know whose it was, just that it was on her hands, and it wouldn't wash off. Maybe it was Izzbelle's. Maybe it was Lottie's. Maybe it was Cobalt's.
Maybe all of the above.
She reached into her pocket and produced Cobalt's tie, staring hard at it as the minutes ticked by. She heard something rustle behind her, but didn't turn around, instead watching out of her periphery as a dark shape appeared behind her in the water's reflection.
"You got my message, then," a waspish voice spoke.
"What do you want?" Karazelle sighed, clenching the tie in her fist.
Beside her, Lilith sat down on the bench, looking a Hell of a lot more different than when they last met. The Devil had swapped her worn leathers out for a more stylish suit, and a black eyepatch concealed her missing eye. Her hair was tied back, and as she settled herself next to Karazelle, the Succubus noticed the sleek pistol holstered by her side, in plain view.
"Just checking in," she said simply, staring out at the water.
Karazelle scoffed.
"I don't need to be babysat by a-"
"Calm yourself. It's not like I'm keeping tabs. I've got more than enough shit to deal with as is."
Karazelle glanced over at Lilith. She was even wearing a tie.
"... What's with the getup?" she asked as curiosity overcame animosity.
Lilith leaned forward and clasped her hands.
"Dad's been silent for almost a week now. Only been speaking in grunts. Pride definitely took a hit, but... I think he needed the wake-up call."
"That doesn't answer my-"
"He gave me the go ahead to put a plan of my own into action. Given how public everything was, there's no way Hell's gonna be able to go back to the way things were. Earth knows about it now. So I wanna do something about it."
She reached into her jacket and pulled out a small silver badge.
"We're setting up an organisation to liaison between the two planes. Things are already turning sour up Earthside, and I'd like to get set up and running before any more lynchings."
"I thought Devils hated lower demons. Why would they give a shit?" Karazelle asked dourly.
Lilith gazed at her, her single red eye glinting in the harsh sunlight.
"I think you know why."
Of course. Cobalt had that effect on people. Changing them for the better, even as he steadily grew worse.
"I'm gonna need personnel, though. I already have a few people on board and enough ins with both Hell and Earth governmental bodies to make this work, but at the rate it's going, it'll be a while yet before we can get anything up and running," the Devil continued.
"How'd you manage to swing that so quick?"
Lilith clenched her fist as ferromantic magic swirled around it. The energy intensified for a moment, bursting outwards as she present the Succubus with a lumpen piece of lustrous yellow metal. Gold.
"Turns out even humans are willing to lend an ear if you grease their palms first."
"How did you-?"
"Daughter of Lucifer. The power of Creation is a Hell of a thing."
She offered the golden nugget to Karazelle, who simply shook her head. It didn't feel right accepting it. Besides, she didn't want any handouts.
"Fair enough. But that brings me back around to what I was getting to. I need people on board, and you've got first billing," the Devil said, flinging the gold into the lake.
Karazelle followed it as it sailed through the air, glinting in the light before splashing down in the middle of the water. The ripples spread from the centre of the lake all the way to the shore.
"... Me?"
"Yeah. I've seen what you can do; stay cool under pressure, keep control of a group, mediate, encourage, persuade. If I didn't recommend you for this, I'd recommend you for a military position.," she joked, though incredibly dryly.
Frowning, the Succubus leaned forward, urging Lilith to do the same. She lowered her voice a little, losing some her harsh edge for a softer, more genuine tone.
"My dad's fucked things up for everyone; I'm not about to refute that. But I want to at least help put things right. To pave a better future rather than get bogged down in a shitty past."
She offered a grey-skinned hand.
"You were always there for Cobalt. Now I wanna be there for you."
Karazelle slapped her hand away, reflexively getting to her feet.
"And what makes you think I want your help? If it weren't for you and yours, we wouldn't be in this mess to begin with," she snapped, irritated by the Devil's sudden display of generosity.
"I didn't choose for my father to go on the warpath."
"But you did choose to use Cobalt as your pawn, didn't you?"
Lilith didn't answer, further angering Karazelle.
"Didn't you?!"
"I can still feel an emptiness in my skull where he used to be. And I'm gonna carry that for the rest of my life. Believe me, Karazelle; I'm fully aware that what I did to Cobalt was shitty as all Hell. But I'm trying to make it right in any way I can. And I want to start with you."
The Succubus shook her head.
"... No. You don't get to use me to ease your guilt. Go ahead with your little philanthropic ego-trip, but keep me the fuck out of it."
"Hey, I was only-"
"You've done enough, Lilith. Thank you, but no thank you."
She jammed Cobalt's tie back into her pocket, she marched away from the bench, leaving the Devil to just sit and watch her leave. For a moment Lilith seemed to try to say something to her, but quickly thought better of it and stayed where she was.
What a joke. As bad as the Incupsychosis was, the introduction of Lilith into Cobalt's life only made things worse for him and everyone around him. The interference with his magic, the Devils constantly attacking, the incidents with the Tempered Bastion... Karazelle felt terrible enough that he only let her in on the Devil's existence once he was at the end of his rope, and now that very same Devil was trying to paint herself as some kind of saint?
And why the Hell did she think Karazelle wanted her help? She never asked for it. She never asked for any of this.
Feeling more than a little pissed off that her time had been wasted, the Succubus stormed her way out of the park, into the town proper.
"Can't keep Jezebel waiting..."
Karazelle still remembered slow, silent walk back from the Tempered Bastion through the ruined streets of central Brimstone. The others had deigned to walk a dozen feet behind her, supporting each other as they surmounted the broken masonry and blasted rubble littering the road. Once what remained of the Devils retreated, Whitney and Elya made the call to bring Brass Trayer's body out of there, wrapped up in a set of curtains torn from a window outside.
For all the world it seemed like they wanted to leave Cobalt's body where it was. Once the Incubus' eyes glazed and slid shut, his face finally relaxed, and for the first time in months he looked at peace. Despite how still he was, his body was hot and heavy, and the veins beneath his skin flashed periodically. Karazelle didn't kid herself; impulses of a dying brain, nothing more than reflexes.
He was gone. And yet she alone still carried him through the streets to B.I.D., the school that he had done so much to protect. Her muscles strained and her skin was basted in sweat from the residual heat he gave off, but even as his flowing blood threatened to scald her, she bit her lip through the pain of her broken arm and kept pushing through it.
Everyone was silent when they stepped into the assembly hall. No-one spoke a word. And when those two Incubi were laid on the ground, the scream that Jezebel Trayer released nearly broke Karazelle, clean down the middle.
After that, it was all just a blur. Quincy Hanlon confirmed the disappearance of the Devils and had Calvin Srenth mobilise what remained of the BPD to secure the town while he attempted to get into contact with the city-state's military forces, and day by day, the people returned to Brimstone proper to begin picking up the pieces of their shattered lives. Even now, as Karazelle trudged through the dust-choked streets, chaos still reigned all around her.
The Tempered Bastion dominated the skyline; a painful reminded of the tragedy that had occurred. With the streets blocked by rubble and clean-up teams, the Succubus was free to walk straight down the centre of the road, taking in everything around her as she rounded the damnable fortress in the middle of town. The police and the Sulfur Bloods had set aside their difference for the sake of their home. While the local constabulary picked through the ruins of destroyed buildings to recover bodies, the Oni gangsters assisted in breaking apart and transporting the rubble away. At one point Karazelle spotted Dassie Dahls out of the corner of her eye, sitting smoking a cigarette pensively as she stared at the burned-out shell of her club.
It would take a long time before Brimstone would go back to the way things were. This town had been through a lot over the years, but the Succubus feared that this would be the straw that broke the camel's back. And even if it did pull itself back from the brink, she wouldn't be there to witness it.
Brimstone had nothing to offer her anymore. Not that it really ever did.
Thankfully, her destination was far enough away from the centre of the town that it had mostly survived the attack. After circumnavigating the Bastion and heading uphill, Karazelle was greeted with mostly-intact hive of activity that was the Brimstone Memorial Hospital. People were coming and going, desperate to pitch in where they could to ensure that the overstuffed wards and treatment rooms were kept running around the clock. A few days ago, the entire carpark had been filled with body bags neatly lined into roads, though now that a majority of those killed by the Devils had been recovered and identified, they had been moved underground into the hospital's morgue. Still, plenty more people were injured, and the doctors working there were already flagging. It took the Succubus hours to get her arm seen to, and the doctor applying her cast barely spoke a word the entire time.
But like everyone else, she couldn't blame them.
Jezebel was nowhere to be seen, so Karazelle just sat on a bench facing the hospital, patiently waiting for her to arrive. There was someone else there too; an Imp girl in an electric wheelchair. She looked remarkably calm despite the circumstances as she swiped through the tablet on her lap, the screen reflecting off her square glasses.
She was probably waiting for someone to be discharged.
Minutes passed in discomforting silence. At one point, Karazelle noticed someone creeping around the side of the hospital building, carrying a can of spray-paint as they nervously looked around. Though their hood was up, she noticed the grey horn motif painted onto their hoodie, and as they began to hastily paint something onto the wall, she sighed and clucked her tongue.
"More of these assholes..." she murmured, dismayed at the sight of the Iron Hound Faithful.
"They've been cropping up more and more lately," the Imp remarked, not looking up from her tablet.
Raising an eyebrow, Karazelle glanced up. This girl seemed to be around the same age as her, though she never saw her around the B.I.D. campus. A dropout, perhaps?
"Makes me wonder how the Summer Festival is going to go. The Rite of Maturation, specifically. Do you think they'll add a new passage for the Iron Hound Faithful?" she asked, looking up.
Behind her glasses, her eyes were piercing and yellow, like those of a hawk's. A dust mask covered the lower half of her face, leaving them as her only recognisable features.
"I, uh... I don't know..."
Truth be told, Karazelle had completely forgotten about the Summer Festival and the Rite of Maturation. Funny. Time was she couldn't wait to grow up.
Sighing, the Imp looked over at the vandal, who had been tackled by one of the hospital's security guards.
"Can't really blame them though, can you? They're scared, and in their hour of need, they were presented with just the hero they needed," she continued, leaning against her wheelchair's armrest.
There was something about the way she talked that set Karazelle on edge.
"Cobalt's not- wasn't a hero. Didn't want to be seen as one either. Just a regular person like everyone else," the Succubus said.
"I get it. Everyone wants to be normal. But come on; born as one in a million, with a condition that's one in a billion, saves the entire town more times than you can count... None of that is normal. And you can't deny the hero's calling forever."
"I'm sorry, who are you again?!" Karazelle snapped, irritated by her tone.
The Imp raised her hands defensively.
"I didn't mean to overstep, Lady Terna."
"Lady-?!"
"I just wanted to give some perspective. You knew him up close and personal, but to the layman, the Iron Hound-"
"Don't call him that!"
"- seems just as the stories make him out to be. A bona fide Devil slayer, here to save the world from their tyranny. And now that he's killed Lucifer himself, well..."
The Imp made a series of wild gesticulations.
"Truth be told, it doesn't matter what he wants, at least not anymore. He's a figurehead now; a legend to be lived up to. Besides, all public figures have to got sacrifice something in their newfound fame, right?"
Karazelle balled her fist and grinded her teeth, furious at the audacity of this girl. She met her gaze fearlessly, her mask shifting slightly to tell of the smug smile hidden beneath.
"Hey. I get it. You liked him, you had something special, and you hoped it would go somewhere. But Cobalt's beyond you now. He belongs to the Faithful."
"You son of a-!"
"I GOT THEM~!" screamed a voice from across the street, drawing both of their attentions.
A Golem girl was bolting across the road, clutching a satchel to her chest. There were blue paint markings on her face, and her handmade jacket bore annoyingly familiar iconography; stripes, horns, claws and teeth. She skidded to a halt in front of the bench, gasping for breath and allowing the sunlight to glint off her braces.
"I- I did it, I got the horns-!"
"Olive, settle down and take a breath. You're drawing too much attention," the Imp said calmly, raising a hand.
Karazelle had seen this girl before. She was always hanging around outside the school gates, proselytizing nonsense made up about Cobalt on the spot. The realisation struck her like a comet as she turned to the Imp beside her.
"Wait a minute, you're one of those cult psychos!" Karazelle exclaimed, rising to her feet.
Swiping on her tablet, she calmly shook her head.
"No, I'm not one of those 'cult psychos', as you put so tactfully."
Grabbing her chair's joystick, she turned it around to fully face the Succubus, whereupon she pushed her glasses all the way up her nose. They glinted in the sunlight, nearly blinding the Succubus.
"I am the head of the Iron Hound Faithful, Rave Recala. You may consider me at your service, oh Bride of the Hound," Rave announced, presenting her hand to Karazelle.
"The fuck did you just call me?!"
Chuckling, Rave reached around for the backpack that hung on the back of her wheelchair and rummaged around for a few pieces of paper that she had formed together into a booklet.
"The Brides, the Hands Left and Right, the Faithful; they all play a role. I've written quite a bit on the subject if you'd like to-"
Karazelle slapped the pages out of Rave's hand, casting her handwritten scripture to the wind. Olive immediately balled her fists and tried to leap to her leader's defence, only for the Imp to raise a hand.
"Easy, Olive; you can't blame her for being raw. After all, what did does it say in Passage Five, Verses Twenty?" she asked, glancing back at the Golem.
She furrowed her brow.
"Um... Is that the new one...?"
"Yes, I gave them out two weeks ago."
"Ah! The Brides shall scatter beneath the shadow of a pyrrhic victory, the Hands shall drift apart on roiling winds, and the Hound shall be lost to the Faithful as the Blind Days commence!"
Her patience was already in tatters, but as the two fanatics before her began to spout off a tirade of pseudo-religious drivel, Karazelle finally snapped.
"Arbmu," she breathed, her voice taking on a bitter edge as she called upon her magic.
But something was off. A Succubus' shadow magic was always difficult to properly control, so for most it took the form of inky darkness that formed into tendrils, and Karazelle was no exception. Rather than draw upon the shadows around her, however, the umbral magic began to swirl and coalesce from and around the Succubus herself, becoming a oily mass that blotted out her features and dripped to the ground like the black webbing of a spider. Olive and Rave both took notice of this, and while the Golem was immediately startled, the confident look in Rave's eyes grew all the sharper.
"Get the Hell out of my sight before I do something we all regret," she hissed as the shadows surged around her.
"Hmph. Just as predicted," Rave murmured, stroking her chin as she eyed up the magic.
"Leave. Now."
"Of course, I didn't mean to offend in any capacity. I wish you safety in your exodus, oh First Bride of the Hound, and Holder of the Leash. I'm sure we'll be in touch in the future."
With a curt nod, she skillfully danced her fingers across her chair's control stick, turning it around and heading off down the pavement. As the electric motors of the wheelchair faded, Olive awkwardly glanced up at Karazelle and gave her an approximation of a bow before trotting off after Rave.
"Um, sorry for your loss, Lady Terna!" she cried, nearly dropped her satchel as she tried to wave behind her.
She stood there for a moment, fuming with rage as the darkness surged around her. They lashed out at everything around her, forming complex webs of shadow unlike anything she had managed to conjure in the past. The other demons on the street all gave her strange looks as they passed, but Karazelle paid them no heed, too absorbed in her own frustration.
It was like no-one could remember the real Cobalt anymore. Just the slavering monster he had degraded into, or the glorified icon that the Iron Hound Faithful had tricked everyone into believing he always was.
Why the Hell did she feel like she was the only person who knew how things really were? That Cobalt Trayer was neither a hero nor a monster, but something altogether more-
"Karazelle...?" a soft voice chimed from behind her.
She whipped around, splattering the shadows in a ring around her. Just a few feet ahead, Jezebelle Trayer stood with wide, surprised eyes.
"Your magic..." she murmured, gazing down at the roiling darkness.
Eyes wide, Karazelle flapped her hands in an effort to dispel her magic. But unlike the times before when it would fade in a mass of vapour, the shadows clung to her for a few moments, as though they were reluctant to leave. She pulled her feet from the pool of darkness beneath her, causing black strings to cling to her legs as she approached Jezebel.
"M- Mrs. Trayer. How are you?" the younger Succubus asked, placing a hand on her shoulders.
It was clear to all that Jezebel Trayer was in a terrible state, even just from a glance. Her eyes were concerningly red, and Karazelle reasoned that the only reason she wasn't crying right now was because she had run out of tears entirely. She was pale, and her face sagged with sleeplessness. She reached up to hug Karazelle, suffusing her senses with the smell of wine. She was weak and shaking, scarcely able to stand by herself.
"I'm... I'm doing okay, honey," she murmured quietly.
It was a lie as plain as day. The poor woman was on her knees for almost the entirety of Brass' funeral, and her distraught daughters weren't much help in keeping her upright. A husband and a father, a son and brother, both lost in one fell swoop... The entire town felt for the Trayers, and yet given the dire situation, it simply wasn't feasible to do any more than give the Hellhound a fitting burial service.
As for Cobalt...
"Here. I... thought you should have this," Karazelle breathed, handing her Cobalt's tie.
The Incubus' mother stared at it for a moment, her body shuddering in an effort to conjure tears that just wouldn't come. She fondly rubbed her thumb across it, caring not for the crusted blood.
"... This belonged to Brass, you know. He wore it from the day we met to the day I lost him. I gave it to Cobalt on his first day at B.I.D... Sweet hellfire, it was barely eight years ago...!" she said, her voice cracking the more she spoke.
"Hey, hey, it's okay. It's okay."
"I- I can't lose him too, honey! I can't lose my snookums!"
She clung to her, sobbing dryly into her blazer. In turn she just stood and held the older Succubus, caring not for those who stared all around them. Not out of malice, mind, but heartfelt pity.
When she was a kid, Jezebel Trayer was a star-studded celebrity in Karazelle's eyes. She would secretly watch all of her movies on repeat, until the VHS tapes threatened to snap right out of their cases. And now she was reduced to...
"... C- Could you do me a favour...?" Jezebel asked after a moment, looking up into her eyes.
"Anything. Just say the word."
"Would you come with me...? Just to... to see him...?"
Karazelle swallowed hard. Her saliva caught in her throat, threatening to choke her.
"... S- Sure. Of course."
"Thank you, honey. I've been here nearly every day, and I just... I can't do this anymore..."
Nodding slowly, she took Jezebel's arm and crossed the street, taking it slow and steady to ensure she had enough time to prepare herself.
Seeing Cobalt carted off to the hospital was bad enough. Seeing his body draped in biohazard tape was much worse.
Upon approaching the front doors of the Brimstone Memorial Hospital, a pair of burly security officers suddenly stormed out of the building, carrying a struggling Imp between them. Karazelle recognised her immediately from her worn leather coat and beaten flatcap; Quinn Redtile, threatening to kill everyone in her vicinity as she was forcefully escorted from the premises. No-one got out of the Tempered Bastion unscathed, but Lottie Deyeyr had definitely gotten the worst of it, and in the wake of her girlfriend's hospitalisation, Quinn had gone completely off the deep end.
"Let me go, you fucking wankers! I've got a right to be here!" the Imp screamed as she was thrown to the ground.
"If you can't behave yourself, Miss Redtile, then you will be barred from the premises!" one of the guards shouted back, pointing an accusing finger.
"Fuck you!"
She was clearly drunk; the poor woman could barely stand up straight.
As the security returned to their posts within the hospital, Quinn flipped them both off and staggered away, only to cross paths with Karazelle. She squinted at her for a moment, before her face twisted with rage.
"You!" she spat, marching right towards her.
"Quinn. Quinn, calm down," Karazelle urged, standing in front of Jezebel.
"You left us in that fucking lift! Left Lottie to bleed out!"
"I was-!"
"You were going back to him! Him! The cunt who was gonna kill us all!"
"Quinn-!"
"No! No, fuck you Kara! Fuck you and fuck the rest of you! I never should have listened! I never should have...! Gagh!"
She slammed her foot into a public dustbin just off the main path, denting it badly.
"And you...!" the Imp hissed drunkenly, wiping her face as she pointed at Jezebel.
"Hey! Leave her out of this! If you have beef with me, fine; but she didn't do anything!"
"None of this would have ever happened if she had just fucking drowned him before he even learned how to fucking-!"
Striding forward, Karazelle slapped her right across the face. As she staggered back, the Succubus grabbed her jacket and roughly pulled her to eye-level. Her breath stank of cheap whiskey. Quinn was going through a total breakdown, and had found better friends at the bottom of bottles than she did in those who had propped her up for the past two years.
"I get that you're upset. But for the love of all that burns; shut your damn mouth," she whispered threateningly, quiet enough so that Jezebel couldn't hear.
The Imp smacked her lips. So arrogant and reckless, confident and smart... how far Quinn Redtile had fallen. It was as though for the first time in her life she didn't know what to do, and rather than ask for help she was taking it out on everyone around her.
"I trusted him. I called him my brother, dammit!" she choked, eyes full of tears as she presented her palms.
There was a lengthy scar running through both of her palms.
"But that asshole chose everyone else over his own fucking blood sister!"
"Quinn... you know that we're still here for you, right?"
"No... No, fuck that. If you - any of you - come near me or Lottie again, I'm gonna fucking kill you. That's a promise, Kara. And Redtiles keep their promises."
She jabbed her in the chest with a pointed finger.
Karazelle sighed. There was no getting through to her. And she was just too tired to try.
Dropping Quinn, the Succubus motioned for her to leave, one she obliged without question. Without even a cursory glance over her shoulder, the Imp staggered off, shoving past anyone who dared get in her way. Taking Jezebel's arm once more, Karazelle tried to give her a reassuring smile. She failed.
"Shall we?"
"Is... she okay?" the older Succubus asked, craning her neck to look back.
"She'll be fine, Mrs. Trayer. Let's just get inside, huh?"
-----
When he fell off a building. When he got shot by Lorenzo Suyas. When he nearly succumbed to hypothermia. When Diate nearly killed him. When he was recovering from the Devil attack. When he carried Whitney to safety after losing her arm. When he nearly burned to death in the woods. When she poisoned the entire school.
Karazelle had been in and out of the Brimstone Memorial Hospital more times than she could count. Cobalt was always getting injured, and when she wasn't waiting patiently to be allowed to check in on him, she was getting hospitalised herself. And yet after all those hours spent waiting in the uncomfortably stuffing foyers, she had never felt as awful as this.
She sat in a hard plastic chair. Jezebel was beside her, hands clasped together rightly as though she were praying, her knuckles whitening from the strain. All around her, the hospital was complete disarray. Nurses and doctors rushed to and fro, yelling to one another from open doorways as they struggled to handle both the patients in the rooms and those left languishing in the corridors. Ringing phones, fax machines, computer bleeps and blaring alarms; it was enough to bring on a headache.
Karazelle just wanted to go home. But where even was home anymore? Because it certainly wasn't B.I.D. At least not anymore.
They were in there for almost an hour, waiting for... something. She wasn't sure, but she wasn't going to go asking Jezebel. She was going through enough as-is. But right as Karazelle considered heading to the vending machine for a drink, none other than Doc Elliott stepped in front of them. The Glutton was usually such a prim and proper guy, so it startled her somewhat to see him looking so disheveled. His shirt was partially unbuttoned to accommodate the extreme summer heat, and his tie was loosely hung around his neck. Wiping his sweating brow, he gave the two Succubi a nod.
"Good to see you, Mrs. Trayer. And, ah... Miss Terna too."
He gave Jezebel a pointed look.
"Oh. She's here with me. Emotional support, let's call it," she said, putting a hand on Karazelle's shoulder.
"I see. This is a sensitive matter, however. One I'm obliged to only share with family, and, well..."
Karazelle nodded.
"It's okay. I can go-"
"No," Jezebel said firmly, tightening her grip, "Karazelle was close to him too, Elliott. Anything you can say to me, she deserves to know too. Please."
The doctor looked around nervously before taking a deep, shuddering breath. He wiped his brow once more and nodded slowly.
"... Alright. Fuck, alright. Follow me, please. We have... much to discuss," he sighed, turning around on his heel.
Though confused, Karazelle obliged him, following alongside Jezebel as they were led through the tumultuous halls of the hospital. Somewhere in the building, Lottie was being treated for her head injuries, though she wouldn't be out for a while given their severity. Gurneys and trolleys were wheeled all over the place, all the while Elliott kept leading them deeper and deeper into the building, stopping only once they reached the door of an office.
His office.
"Take a seat, please," Doc Elliot said breathlessly, opening the door from them both.
The two Succubi sat before a desk stuffed with paperwork. The doctor sat opposite them and tapped a few keys on his computer before burying his face in his hands.
"Jezebel. I've known you for a long time and I consider you a close friend, but... I'm afraid I can't keep making these exceptions for you," he said, looking into her eyes.
"Doctor, please... he's my boy, and..." Jezebel mumbled, sitting forward.
"I know, I know..."
He leaned back for a moment, taking a deep breath as he collected himself.
"I'll admit, I'm quite fond of Cobalt too. But we can't keep a whole wing locked off just for him. We're running out of room here, and as it stands it's just too dangerous to keep him here."
"Dangerous?" Karazelle asked, sitting forward, "What do you mean dangerous?"
Glancing over at the screen, Doc Elliot thought for a moment before he began rummaging through files.
"Perhaps I'd best explain the situation to you, Miss Terna. As it stands, Cobalt Trayer is alive, but only just barely. He's been on life support for the past week or so, but in the past few days, his body has been... well... changing."
Jezebel covered her mouth as Karazelle's brow furrowed.
"Changing how?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow.
"We don't know. He's putting out a dangerous amount of heat, and it's only been rising by the day. We managed to perform some preliminary tests before it grew too unbearable, and we've determined that there's something in his abdomen that shouldn't be there. Something he ingested."
A cold sweat ran down her back. Lucifer's leg.
"I can withstand heat, Elliott. I just want to see him. Just for a moment," Jezebel said, her tone edging on pleading.
"I understand, Jezebel. Believe me, I do. But it's not just the biological hazards that we need to worry about. There's been... developments."
"Developments?"
"Yes, well..."
Reaching for a brown folder, he opened it up to reveal a stack of official-looking letters.
"Word has spread. Scientific institutions the world over are requesting custody of your son's body," he explained, sifting through them.
"For what?"
"For dissection. For study. For autopsy. Whatever method they need to uncover an 'Incubus' secrets,' whatever that entails."
As Jezebel recoiled from the shock, Karazelle peered at the logos on the letters. Pumice Bay Academy of Medical Sciences, the Redmont Institute, the Mancer's Quarter University of Biology... They were big names. She remembered coming across them in her search for potential colleges. Back when that was an option.
"It's not happening! H- He's my boy!" Jezebel cried, straightening up in her seat.
Nodding, Doc Elliott raised an exhausted hand.
"I know, Jezebel, I know. But Hanlon's been putting the screws on us. Some of these places are offering huge sums for this chance, and with things the way they are now-"
"Fuck Hanlon! I won't let them cut up my son!"
"... He's in state custody now. I'm afraid it's out of your hands."
"That's not fair!" Karazelle exclaimed, putting her good hand on her fellow Succubus' back as she began to break down.
As she cried, Doc Elliott stared down at the floor guiltily. He tapped his fingers for a few moments before leaning over his desk.
"Look. There's another option. But... I don't think you're going to like it," he whispered, nervously glancing back at the door.
"Anything's better than getting sliced to bits like... like a lab rat!"
"Cobalt... as he is, he might as well be braindead. We couldn't perform an MRI, but after some pushback, I got them to perform an EEG, just to see what was going on in there. His brain is... a mess, frankly, but it's mostly inactive. Autonomous responses are still functional, but to put it in layman's terms... he might as well not be in there at all. You're both Lust demons, so you know that wherever Cobalt is now, he's never going to leave."
Karazelle knew what that meant. Every Succubus did. The Deepest Refuge; a Lust Demon's final resting place.
"S- So what are you suggesting...?" Jezebel asked in a quivering voice.
"... I'm suggesting we pull the plug. Today. Maybe that way you can get him buried before anyone tries to collect."
It was like all the air just went out of Jezebel. She collapsed back, sobbing into her hands as Doc Elliott guiltily wiped his face. An uncomfortable prickling made itself known in Karazelle's throat as she considered the implications.
Cobalt spent his entire life fighting for his autonomy. To have it taken away even in death was...
"Jezebel... I'm sorry. Truly, I wish there was another way. But-"
"No. No, I... I understand. I'll... I'll do it."
"You needn't go through the trouble. I can-"
"If my snookums is going to die, then I want to be there in his last moments! Don't try to take this from me, Elliott!" the Succubus yelled, eyes awash with recently-replenished tears.
The hapless doctor nodded before turning to Karazelle.
"Miss Terna, I'm so sorry you had to-"
"I'm going with her," she said curtly, cutting him off."
"But-"
"I said I'm going with her. End of."
There was no more arguing with them, and Doc Elliott could tell. He just meekly offered his apologies, grabbed a set of keys from his desk and asked the two Succubi to follow him once more. Throughout their journey back through the hospital, Karazelle found herself ruminating on everything he had told them. All this attention, all this demand, all these eyes on the barely-living body of Cobalt Trayer...
All he ever wanted was a peaceful life. Denying that, he wasn't even given a peaceful death.
He wasn't perfect, but that was just cruel.
Elliott brought them to the end of a corridor, where the hospital ambience had grown conspicuously quieter. A pair of locked doors marked with hastily-erected biohazard signs blocked their path, but after quickly making sure that they hadn't been followed, the doctor opened the way and guided them into a dim, almost-silent wing of the hospital.
Cleared out for the safety of staff and patients alike, he told them. They didn't know what Cobalt's body was likely to do, even when left alone. He could combust. He could explode. Hell, he could start outputting radiation; they just didn't know.
"We did a few x-rays, and it was like each one was completely different. Whatever's happening to him, it's completely reorganising his insides."
Doc Elliott yammered on about the biological mysteries of the Incubus' body, but Karazelle wasn't listening. She was just readying herself to see him again, and with a glance into Jezebel's tear eyes, she gleaned that she was doing much the same.
Eventually they arrived outside the door of an ICU room. The doctor placed his hand upon the handle, but before he opened it, he turned to the two Succubi.
"I must stress that to stay here any longer than necessary would be hazardous to all of us, and time is of the essence. If you have any words to say, please be quick," the Glutton stressed.
Jezebel nodded.
"We will, doctor. Just get it over with," Karazelle added, giving her fellow Succubus' hand a squeeze.
"Alright. Just... brace yourself for the heat. Here we go...!"
Screwing up his face, he threw the door open. The Succubus took a sharp breath and prepared herself for what was to come.
A gentle breeze washed over her; a refreshingly cool zephyr that seemed to just wash away the stuffy perspiration of the hospital's overcrowded halls.
"... What...?"
The room had been completely cleared away for study and observation. The furniture, the decor; everything was gone, replaced with medical charts and strange-looking devices. The window looked out over the gardens behind the hospital, and it had been pulled all the way open. It was nice and cool inside the room, and as Karazelle peered down at the bed, she realised why.
It was empty. Covered in bloodstains, scorchmarks and torn fabric.
But the bed was completely empty.
Cobalt was gone.
Jezebel fell to her knees, her nerves finally giving way at the sight of her son's missing body. Doc Elliott flew into a panic, immedietely calling up other members of staff to report the absent Incubus. But Karazelle was completely deaf to them both. She stepped into the room, staring at the destroyed bed before turning her gaze to the window.
It was a beautiful day outside, despite the wishes she harboured deep down. And something had been left on the windowsill, placed in plain view for everyone.
The Succubus picked it up, holding it to the light to inspect it closely.
"Well I'll be damned..."
It was a flower.
A bluebell.
-----
THE END
-----