The girl, Sarah Gold, was alive, though barely. Ethaniel leaned against the alley’s grimy wall and willed his wings and tail to disappear so they didn’t get dirty. He looked down at her. She was limply splayed out in the dingy alley. Her pants and panties were nowhere to be seen but she wore a stained puffy jacket and dirty tee. Used needles and other drug paraphernalia told him how she was going to die. Her legs were a map of drug addiction and the thin parallel scars of self inflicted abuse. A needle still protruded from her inner thigh near her crotch. It was a pity, he thought, she was still pretty enough.

She was young. As a demon, Ethaniel had difficulty judging human ages unless they were very young or very old. Still, he guessed she was somewhere in her early twenties… maybe, based on her clothing more than her features. He could save her, he thought. Make a 911 call, administer CPR. There were times he wanted to break the rules and stick it to the powers that be. He was tempted to use the small bottle of Narcan in the kit he had lifted off of the paramedic at his last retrieval assignment. But, there were rules. And, rules were still rules. So, instead he waited.

The angel silently alighted on the closed dumpster at the end of the alley and startled him and he only just stopped himself from flinching. Ethaniel nodded to the Host and pretended to ignore the monstrosity. His huge coal black wings spread wide filling the small space blocking the light. His massive bulk looked too large to rest seemingly weightless on the blue plastic lid of the dumpster. The spear with a golden cover over the blade doing more to put him at ease in the presence of his kind’s ‘hated enemy’ than his seeming passivity. The truce notwithstanding. The Angel’s presence also told him that her end was near. Judgment would be passed and they would both go on their way until the next soul to save or damn.

A sigh of impatience from the angel drew Ethaniel’s attention to it. He was puzzled when the angel pulled a smartwatch from under his clothing and consulted it. It grunted and composed his face into a grimace, glanced at the girl, then flared his wings.

“Her death is taking too long. There’s no point in dragging this out,“ the Angel said, “let's get this over with. I say she is damned. What say you? Hurry up, spawn, I have places to be.”

Ethaniel gave the angel an annoyed look. What an asshole, he thought. “Never expected you to be a rule breaker,” he told the giant. His only response was a grunt.

Still, rules were rules. He knelt down and touched her forehead with a finger tip. Memories and experiences flooded his mind. Her fifth birthday party with a pony. Learning to drive. School. A specific day in the second grade in which nothing of note happened but she never forgot nonetheless. Her father forcing himself on her repeatedly after she started developing as a girl. Laughing with friends. The taste of ice cream. Kissing a boy in the backyard on his birthday. Her first taste of heroin. Killing her pimp last week and stealing his money. The summer she spent with her grandmother when her parents were arguing all the time and she thought she would be okay. The time she saved a kitten from a dumpster and tried to keep it only for her dad to toss it out into the street. Her last taste of heroin when she deliberately took so much that she knew the pain would stop. Buying shoes with her mother when she was seven. Watching…

She was funny and smart. She liked small animals and children. It amused him to watch some of the pranks and jokes she played on her friends to lighten their days. The memories of her playing in her special place with her dolls, an attic closet. When her parents argued it made her sad and anxious. The memories of her standing up to bullies in elementary school made him proud of her. And the memories of her sexual abuse made him angry. He contemplated finding her father and orchestrating his death just so he could pass judgment personally. He sifted and watched as he got to know this dying girl. To let her memories be seen. At the end of her life she was alone. She was also alone a lot of the time she was surrounded by people. He wanted to have at least one person know her. Hear her. Be able to say they liked her, even if for a moment. Her memories would fade from his mind in time, but he wanted to give her this last moment of connection, even if she was unable to share it.

He sifted through the dying girl’s memories. A middle class lifestyle as a child followed by hard times after her parents divorced. Sexual abuse. Drug addiction to numb the pain of living. Addiction. Lying. Theft. Prostitution. Murder. Suicide… Sadness. A lot of sadness. She was twenty-four years old. A short, painful life that ended too early. He felt pity for her. It was ironic that a demon should have more empathy for a lost soul than one of the Father’s ‘chosen’.

“Agreed,” Ethaniel sighed. “Damned.” Rules were rules.

“Purgatory?” the Angel asked.

Ethaniel again sighed, “No.”

“Fine. Judgement passed.” With the angel’s words a heaviness passed and settled into the girl. Her final judgment. The Angel flared his enormous wings, tensed his muscles and flung himself into the air.

What a rule breaker, Ethaniel thought, judgment was never to be passed until the life of the mortal had ended. He could feel the still living girl’s heart weakly beat. He fiddled with the Narcan kit that he had stolen the week before. Glancing around to make sure that the angel had truly gone he measured out a dose of the opiate countering drug, shoved the needle into her chest and slammed the plunger. Then he waited. Patience was his one true gift. The drug took time to take effect. He placed his finger on her body once again and noted the multitude of small injuries to her body and mind from the drugs and sexual abuse. He let his magic heal what it could and lessen the damage of those wounds that it couldn't.

The sun set and the temperature began to drop. A thick snow started falling. Ethaniel used some of his magic to raise the temperature. A pair of men with bad intentions wandered into the alley. Ethaniel gave the pair feelings of fear and unease. The pair walked out as soon as they entered. A policeman walked by using his flashlight to illuminate the end of the alley he was in. Ethaniel used his magic again to make the cop see not a half naked girl and demon but a pair of cats lounging. If he stopped intervening for her she would no doubt still die and he would still have a new soul to add to the pile already in the pit. Ethaniel was contemplating his last instructions from his boss, a job change after this retrieval, and mulled over a second alternative for Sarah.

In time the girl roused. She was just aware enough to see him. He let her see his horns, wings, and tail. He unleashed his demonic aura. He was beautiful and fearful to look at. His appearance was unnerving when his demonic features were hidden. Now his features could arouse and terrify at the same time. He sensed the exact moment when she saw him. Her weak heart started to beat faster and her breath quickened.

“Good evening Sarah,” He smiled at her. His fangs no doubt causing her breath to quicken still. He sat on the grimy ground criss-cross applesauce, leaned back on his hands, and relaxed his posture. His tail wrapped around his waist and he tapped the tip against his leg. Sarah tried to get up and move away from him. He could see the panic in her eyes. Her already weakened body was starting to stress and he feared that if she didn’t calm he would end up needing to throw her soul into the pit anyways.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

“Who the fuck are you? What’s with the costume? Where…” She looked around the alley in a disoriented panic. Noticed her missing clothing. Saw the needle still in her leg. Memory, realization, and horror struck her at the same moment. At this her heart did start racing again.

“I see you have realized the situation you are in,” he smiled sadly at her. “I am afraid to say that judgment has been passed. You have been damned. The only question that remains is how exactly you have been damned.” Ethaniel reached into his coat and retrieved a small glass bottle of reddish liquid and showed it to her. Inside one very small wormlike creature squirmed. A demon spawn larvae. A gift from his boss for that new job. For his new assistant.

“Get the fuck away from me,” Sarah said. Her legs weakly tried to push her body away from Ethaniel. She could only barely move from him and he simply reached out and snagged her leg and dragged her back. “No!” she screamed. She kicked and hit at him, squirming to get away. Ethaniel grabbed her by the neck and pinned her to the ground, the melted snow soaking her puffy jacket. When he did so she screamed and grabbed his arm and hand trying to pry him off of her.

Ethaniel’s famed patience finally snapped and he stood holding her by the back of the neck. “Sarah, we have other places we need to be. Come with me.”

So saying he formed a magical portal to hell and walked through it right next to The Pit. Sarah continued the kick and thrash at him until the change in temperature caught her attention and she froze, panic filled her eyes. He held her body over the flames by her neck. Embers alighted on her skin burning her. Below the screams of the damned wailed ceaselessly. A burning wind cut her skin causing blisters to well up across her exposed legs, bottom, and crotch.

In hell his body grew into his full demonic form. He was naked. His muscles swelled and his face changed from the human form it had to the true demon he was. Clearly not human. His skin was now so black that it looked like light simply disappeared into it. His legs changed shape to digitigrade clawed feet. He was slightly hunched in this form but still taller than a typical human male. His eyes glowed as if embers from the eternal fire rested in his eye sockets. He was beautiful and alien at the same time.

Adjusting his grip he turned her around so that she looked right at him. Looking deeply into her eyes he said in an unnaturally deep voice, “this is Option A.” He turned her and held her to his chest and made a slow 360 degree turn letting her take in the sights of the unending punishment that humanity was doomed to for choosing Ashera over the Father. Gouts of fire illuminated the landscape randomly. Fire blackened rocky hills and dunes of ash surrounded the bottomless pit of eternal fire. Beyond that a featureless plane of unending ash and jagged stone extended in all directions. Roiling clouds of what looked like fire and smoke covered the sky. A lingering scent of sulfur permeated the air.

The exposed skin Sarah’s legs were getting covered in small burns and blisters from the blowing embers rising from The Pit. The material of her puffy jacket was covered in small burn holes and the fluff on the hood had singed. Her face was a rictus of fear and panic. Ethaniel felt her heart race and her breathing quicken. He hated to expose her to this, but she needed to know what the alternative was if she refused his offer. In the distance another demon dumped a thrashing naken human shape on top of the pile of damned flame-charred souls. It shrieked and the flesh of its body started to burn away, only ending as its lungs and lips were burned away. It never stopped moving however. This was its punishment. Eternal torture. Never ending pain.

He formed the portal again and stepped back onto Earth. This time into a reasonably nice apartment miles away from the alley he found her in. He dropped her to the floor and set the bottle with the demon spawn next to her. The grime from the alley and ash from The Pit stained his hardwood floors. Sarah had soiled herself. She was gasping and clutching at her burned legs. Her urine made a puddle on the floor. The room was dark, illuminated only by the streetlights coming in through a large open window that showed the NewYork skyline from the New Jersey side. Comfortable modern looking white leather, wood and stone furniture was tastefully scattered across an open floor plan.

“This is option B,” She rolled over onto her back and looked up into his face. He had changed back into a handsome man that appeared to be somewhere between the age of thirty and forty-five. Dark haired and light skinned, he had very blue eyes and very white teeth. He was dressed casually in jeans and a green cable knit sweater. His feet were bare and his toes were immaculately manicured. When he looked at her this time it was with a look of concern and pity, not the face of the demon.

Sarah’s panic continued. “What is happening?” she asked.

“You,” Ethaniel paused for effect, “have been damned by the powers that be.” He walked over to a white leather armchair and sat. He folded one leg over the other and laid hid arms limply on the arms. He looked at her, waiting.

“What,” she licked her chapped and burnt lips, “what does that mean?”

“The simple answer is that when you die, you go to hell. No detours or other options. Had I not intervened you would be a corpse in that alley slowly freezing solid. Your soul forever burning in that pit I just took you to.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Darnell…,” he simply answered.

The expression she gave him was not fear or horror but anger. A boil rage. “But…,” her fists balled tightly, “but he was an evil asshole,” she started crying. Slow large tears rolling down her face. “He was fucking evil…”

“Very true. But it was not your place to cast judgment, or exact punishment.” Ethaniel flicked imaginary lint from his jeans. “Also, you also successfully committed suicide before redeming yourself.”

“But… I’m not dead.” She cried.

“Only because of my infernal intervention.” He leaned back in his seat and studied her. “If I were to let you walk out that door right now and even if you were to live the greatest life ever. Become a saint. Did great works of true good, and fought all the evils of this world and succeeded, you would still be damned. Forever sentenced to burn in The Pit. Those flames are your future. It doesn’t matter if you want them or not... Unless you take Option B”

Ethaniel left Sarah to cry on his floor for a few minutes while he busied himself in the kitchen. When he came back he placed a bottle of Cherry Pepsi and a turkey sandwich next to her. He left the room to use the toilet and give her some space. He could find her if she left. It would be a challenge to explain to his neighbors why a half naked burn victim was fleeing his apartment but he could. He took a few minutes to wash his hands and face. He always felt dirty when returning from The Pit. Even if he could shake off the soot and ash when crossing the portal.

When he returned to the living room he found her huddled up on his white leather couch with a throw wrapped around her hips munching on the sandwich. Her knees were huddled against her chest and her arm held them protectively. Her tears had dried up but she still looked emotionally fragile. The bottle of Cherry Pepsi remained untouched.

“Not a fan?” he asked, gesturing to the bottle.

She caught his meaning and stated, “Pepsi.” As if Pepsi were “urine,” or “kitten puree.”

Ethaniel went back into the kitchen and returned with a cold bottle of water. After handing it to her he sat down on the far end of the white leather couch and waited. He was good at waiting. Part of being good at waiting was knowing when to wait and when not to. The secret to waiting was to not fill the time up with other tasks, but to focus on the task at hand. So, Ethaniel watched Sarah as she ate. And then waited a while longer as she sat and thought.

Time passed and the sun rose, giving New York City a hazy winter dawn glow and illuminating his living room. His neighbors noisily woke around them. The sound of his upstairs neighbors’ children running and stomping like elephants sounded through his ceiling. A noisy garbage truck collected garbage down his street. It was accompanied by an increase in the traffic noise coming from his window. The small sounds of doors slamming and engines starting quietly filled the space. Still he waited.

Finally she asked, “What…, what is Option B?”