Jezebel didn’t speak. Perhaps she was frightened by Rufus’ outburst of maddening anger. Perhaps she simply had nothing to say. Either way, she didn’t speak. They walked very quietly, the moon hovering above them like a doll from a string. Their feet made little pattering sounds as they sunk into the sand. And the blood that had dried on Rufus’ skin was itching.

He had gathered himself. Taken a few breaths. Became calm once more; no longer so hostile. It was impossible to guess what was on the boy’s mind since even he was not quite sure.

The two children walked up to a little cot. It was small and dome shaped with a white paint that was aged and faded and cracked at the gentle breeze of the wind.

Still without saying a word, Jezebel opened the door for him, and he walked in. The room was larger inside than it had looked outside. It was circular, with a staircase spiraling up to a hole in the roof. There was a separate room that looked to Rufus like a bedroom, and there was a long white bench for him to sit on close to the door, but otherwise, the room was naked. It seemed, in fact, that someone had died the whole room white. Everything from the metals of the stairway to the woods of the floor. The whole place looked like it had been dunked in milk and then left out in the sun to decolor slightly for a very long time.

“Sit.” was the first word that Jezebel said. She slumped down on the bench and tapped the spot beside her for Rufus to sit too. He obliged wordlessly.

“That was a hell of a fight you put out there.” She said the complement, but her voice was thick with what he could only assume to be fear. “I mean. . . thanks for saving my guts. That stupid Black Shuk would have had me as his kosher dinner. Not that I’m kosher. I don’t even know why I said that. I mean not every person who’s Jewish eats kosher. Just because I’m Jewish but- you know what? Forget it.” she crossed her arms over her chest.

Jezebel was no longer red. The horns had long retreated into her body, the tail twisting until it was no more than a disturbing memory to recall in Rufus’ nightmares.

“Listen, kid. . .” She said even though she was only a few years older than him. “You. . . that was. . . hmm.” She closed her mouth, opened it and then closed it again. Finally she seemed to knit a sentence or two in her head and blurted them out, her tongue stumbling over her teeth, as it seemed.

“I don’t know why you did what you did. I mean. . . I don’t know how you got so aggressive. Listen, I ain’t a psychiatrist myself, but it looks like you got some, er, mommy/daddy issues.” She tried to laugh, but it didn’t stick in her throat. “Well, all I wanted to say was that. . . you’re safe now, Rufe. You’re with us now. We take really good care of our people, I promise you that, Paradiss is the single best place in the world for people like us. You don't need to be scared.”

He looked up at her. Rufus wasn’t scared. He was only curious. Disappointed. Slightly angry. But not scared. He wondered what it was that he had just killed. How he had found the strength, the drive, to rip that thing apart with his bare hands.

“That was a Black Shuck, by the way.” Jezebel read his thoughts. “I’m glad you. . . I’m glad you killed it for me. I can’t believe you did that without looking it in the eye. I mean, I was really struggling to rely only on my sense of hearing. And you killed it for me, so thanks.”

There was a little scar over her nose and she scratched it. “If you look into a Black Shuk’s eye. . .” her voice darkened, deepend. “Well, nevermind what will happen to someone who looks a Black Shuk in the eye. You didn’t; that’s all that matters.”

Rufus did look in the Black Shuk’s eye. Now he gazed down at his hands. Jezebel had ripped off his jacket and tied it in pieces around his chest to help stop the bleeding, but he still felt lightheaded. But maybe it wasn’t the lack of blood that brewed that nasty ill feeling in the pit of his conscience.

His hands were stained. Stained red. Up to the elbow. There were dark, almost brown lines of blood tucked neatly under each of his nails and the stench of death hung to the air about him.

He was now a murderer.

“So, Rufe, you all rested now?”

He wasn’t. But he nodded.

“Good. Then let's get you up there, to heaven. To Paradiss; your new home.”

She stood up and offered him her hands to help him up, but he denied it and pulled himself up instead, his chest seering with pain.

Then they began to walk up the stairs. They stopped when the hole at the ceiling began, and then somehow continued again on stairs that he could barely see. When he turned his head just right, he could see light bouncing off of the steps, like on a soap bubble, but otherwise, they were clear enough for him to see the sea underneath them and the beach hurriedly smearing away as they made their trip through cloud and and skye to the heavens above.

Jezebel was humming a tune to herself. She was balancing on her tiptoes on each step, her arms spread out on both sides of her to support her weight.

It was close to six in the morning, he suspected. The light was very, very gently tempering with the darkness, easing itself into the sky and seeping through the night. Rufus’ eyes hung low on his cheeks; his face seemed to smear towards the ground in fatigue. And his bloody arms dangled limply besides his stiff body, swaying with each step and perfuming the air with blood.

“You know who my dad is?” Jezebel asked at last. Rufus shook his head. “His name is Leviathan. He’s this, like, super awesome guy. He’s the demon of the sea, shaped like a massive serpent!” She bared her teeth at him and snarled, her braces catching the orange of the morning.

Rufus didn’t want another daddy. He always knew his wasn’t the real one, but he liked him well enough. He loved him, even. He didn’t want someone else. He didn’t want to be like Jezebel.

“Sometimes I wish I could just be a real demon. . .” Her voice was more of a whisper now, like she wasn;t sure she should be saying what she said, but felt that the words just had to come out.

“Being a demon is easier than being like us. A semi- demon. Now that's a hard life to live. I mean, listen, being a full level demon isn;t a ‘living in a yacht and drinking cocktails with little shrimpies hanging out the side’ kind of life, but it must be better than this. Even though they get summoned on these, like, stupid tasks, and are forced to torture humans, to bring pain and misery and bla bla bla. You know how it goes. Everyone blames demons for being bad when it's really the humans who put the poor demons up to it. Threatening them with crucifixes like this is some kind of cheap horror movie.” she blew a raspberry and placed her hands in her pockets.

Then they climbed in silence for another few minutes.

“You’ll like it in Paradiss.” she smiled warmly to herself. Paradiss was her home. It was comforting. Her eyes swelled just when speaking of it.

“They teach us how to be better semi- demons, if we stay. If you stay, you get to become a Finder, which is what I am, and so’s my friend Lenard and my other friend Kualike. A Finder is a person who goes out and recruits new semi- demons, by the way. The others get sent away to eternal bliss and comfort.”

Eternal bliss and comfort. Could there really be such a thing? Rufus thought not.

In the distance loomed a sizable cloud, thick and solid, reminiscent of a cartoon Rufus might have watched at home. With each step toward it, the cloud expanded, until they found themselves standing directly before it, descending the stairs onto its seemingly cotton-like surface. However, beneath their feet, it proved unnervingly firm, akin to concrete. Guiding Rufus, Jezebel led him to a revolving door nestled amidst the clouds. They came to a halt before it, a momentary pause filled with uncertainty and anticipation.

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WELCOME TO PARADISS.

The voice startled Rufus so severely that he nearly jumped out of his skin. The jolt sent waves of burning pain through his chest.

“Wow there, Rufe,” Jezebel steadied him before he had the chance to fall back and hit his head on the soft looking concrete beneath him.

The voice was not human, Rufus could tell that much. It sounded metallic and formal at the same time, like a robot at a business meeting.

“Jezebel Murphy.” Jezebel recited her name like she’d had to practice it. “I’m here with Rufus. He’s a new guy.”

JEZEBEL MURPHY; PLEASE IDENTIFY YOURSELF IF YOU COULD BE EVER SO KIND.

Jezebel looked forward for a moment and then, like she suddenly realized that the strange voice was speaking to her, she gave a start and began to fumble through her pockets for her magnets as one would search for their keys.

“Here ya go.” she pulled them apart and they flickered momentarily before settling in the shape of those long, edgy knives of hers. Rufus watched quietly.

JEZEBEL MURPHY DAUGHTER OF LEVIATHAN, YOU HAVE BEEN IDENTIFIED; THANK YOU SOOO MUCH. I REALLY APPRECIATE IT.

Now the voice changed almost entirely. Rufus didn't much appreciate the alteration; it sounded desperate, like it was trying to cling on to some humanity that it had found from watching a lot of Californian reality shows. There was some falsehood in the voice that he couldn't place his finger on; it was definitely not human, but it seemed to really really want to be.

Jezebel sighed irritably and placed her swords away, back in their magnet form.

OKE-RRRRR! SUGAR PIE HONEY BUN, IT IS GOOD TO HAVE YOU BACK IN THE CASA! THAT WAS SPANISH! HOW WAS THE JOURNEY? WAS IT SAFE OR WAS IT TOTALLY A LOSER FEST? OKAY, I’M GOING TO KEEP SPEAKING NOW EVEN THOUGH YOU HAVEN'T ANSWERED ANY OF MY QUESTIONS! WHO IS THE NEW SEMI- DEMON?

“That’s Rufus, like I just said like a minute ago. Also can we stop with this whole ‘trying to talk like a midlife crisis mother picking her teenage daughter up from a party at a boy’s house’ thing? It's really-”

GREAT! IDENTIFICATION.

In an instant the voice was metallic again. It seemed to now be directed at Rufus and, though it had no eyes or mouth of any distinct human features, it still seemed to be watching him.

“Okay, Rufe, you’re going to need to bow your head. There is going to be a bright flash, okay? It's not going to hurt, I promise; it's just like a picture of the inside of your head so that they can see the horns inside your skull. Horns like mine, okay?”

He nodded.

“Alright. Now bend your head. . . good job. . . attaboy.” There was a bright flash that Rufus saw through the skin of his eyelids and a sound like the scattering of a mouse on wooden floorboards.

Then Jezebel gave a little tug on his jacket and he stood up again and rubbed his eyes.

IDENTIFICATION SUCCESSFUL. The robotic voice said, then immediately changed its mind and spoke again in that fake sounding voice; OKAY BOO BOO. YOUR HORNS HAVE BEEN FOUND; YASSS.

The spinning doors gave a little shake and then began to rotate slowly. As Jezebel and Rufus walked through (it took Jezebel a few times before she managed to get it right), the voice spoke again and told them; ENJOY YOUR TIME/ LIFE IN PARADISS. THE ONLY PLACE YOU WOULD EVER BE SAFE AT. OH- AND DON’T FORGET TO TRY OUT OUR NEW BAR! FOR THE ADULTS OVER THE AGE OF TWENTY ONE ONLY AND OBVIOUSLY UNDER THE AGE OF TWENTY FIVE! ALSO, PLEASE STOP PEEING IN THE POOL! SPREAD THE WORD!

The hotel was so unbearably bright that Rufus’ eyes stung. It was almost as though from the day of his birth he had worn sunglasses and was now for the first time seeing the world without them. He moaned and covered his face with his jacket, blinking as if to cry the light away.

“Here, little man.” Jezebel helped him to the floor, where he sat unhappily. She sat beside him. The floor was very cold and squeaky. It was almost hard for Rufus to seat himself without slipping.

“It can be a little hard the first time.” Jezebel coached him through it. “The light is just really bright. But it’ll go away in a few moments.”

He sat there and rubbed his eyes, trying to make the blurry black dots go away. Then he smelt that smell. He couldn’t possibly tell what it was, but he loved it. It was like every good feeling he had ever felt had been crammed into a little perfume bottle and squirted around him in a mist of desire.

His vision slowly came back to him, but he didn't really want to get up yet. He sat on the ground and looked around, his eyes still adjusting, too tired to move himself and too stiff with dry blood to feel in any way comfortable.

“You remind me of my little brother.” Jezebel said suddenly. He turned to look at her with his face tilted to the side.

“You’re like him in some way. I just can’t tell which.” She leaned against the column they sat before. “He’s different from you, too. Very loud. Always has something to say. Always jumping around and laughing, too. Maybe it's just how much little-er you are than me. I don't know. But I don't get to see him much and you remind me of him, so I’m gonna treat you like you’re a brother of mine, too.”

Rufus smiled. That sounded nice. He would like to be a brother. That sounded nice.

“Come on then.” Jezebel gave him a hand and helped him to his feet. “Let's get you checked in. You can get a room and then take a shower and go to the infirmary and then sleep in all day until dinner if that's what you want." She began to walk to a front desk on the right side of the massive lobby. It looked just like a real hotel looked, in Rufus’ imagination.

The two of them stood in front of a stretch of shiny wood that was the front desk and Jezebel rang a little golden bell. Most of the hotel was golden. Gold, white and red. He looked around while Jezebel tiredly dropped her head onto the counter and closed her eyes gently. The floor was a veined marble- cleaned so well he could see his own reflection. It sprouted large columns like trees, too thick for him to wrap his arms around and clasp his hands. There were Persian carpets laid out in an orderly fashion under huge chairs made of the type of velvet that darkened when you ran your fingers over, and tables with legs thick and made of what appeared to be solid gold. The light was less harsh now that he’d gotten used to it- and the smell was nearly gone, though he could still feel its soothing effects draining the pain from his chest and washing fatigue over his eyes.

“I’ll-” Jezebel yawned. “-come and get you at dinner then. I also need to sleep-” she yawned again, “- and I probably will be sleeping until dinner. Then I’ll introduce you to Lenard and Kualike.”

There was a sound, like sheets of linen brushing against one another in a breeze. Rufus turned to the hallway and his red hair flipped around his forehead as the gust of wind reached in and pulled his eyelids open.

“That’s the High Angel. . .” Jezebel murmured, half asleep already. Her eyes were closed and she smiled, almost subconsciously. “High Angel. . .” She muttered again. Only then did she realize what words had come through her lips. She jumped up, almost with embarrassment and nervously combed her fingers through her matted black hair.

Immediately Jezebel began to fix her hair, tidy her clothes the best she could, clean some blood from her hands by rubbing them against her jeans.

The Angel fluttered through the hallway like a dove, its body descending to the ground gracefully. It had a face like every face he had ever seen and yet like no face at all. When he looked at it long enough, it didn’t even look human anymore. He had to remind himself that it wasn’t. Even in its feminine body and long, thick flowy white gown that draped from the straps of its shoulders down to its ankles, it still couldn’t be seen by Rufus as any more than an ‘it’.

Two great, muscular wings beat together, lightly feathered, slapping one another and then pulling apart, feathering, getting tangled in one another but sorting themselves out.

The Angel’s bare feet draped onto the floor, falling toes spreading and balancing themselves without the help of the heels. The bald head glinted under the smooth, flattering lobby lights.

“High Angel Azraella.” Jezebel gave a small bow and Rufus did the same.

“Jezebel.” The Angel smiled and placed its hands on the top of Jezebel’s head in a single pat. It held it there for a few seconds before retreating.

“You have had a good journey I hope?” The Angel asked. Rufus looked it straight in the eye. It was a peculiar creature; it managed to be the most beautiful and the scariest thing he had ever seen. It was like it was looking into his soul. Like it's smoothly moving, sharp blue eyes were peeling the layers of armor from his body and touching the tender spot inside his heart that hurt.

The Angel’s face was sheeny; like someone had erased the folds from its skin. Like the face of a baby who was just born and had not yet had the time to make a single expression that could mark its frail flesh with lines.

“Who might you be, little demon?” The Angel asked. Its voice was so melodious. It sweetened its way into Rufus’ ears like a lullaby.

“This is Rufus.” Jezebel said and placed her hand on the top of his head.

“Rufus. It is a pleasure to have you here with us. You are hurt, dear?”

He nodded and flinched away, like its hand would suddenly reach out and dig into the open wound on his chest. It didn’t. The Angel kept its hands clasped before it and tilted its head in pity.

“We shall have to mend that then, shan’t we? Come. I will bring you to your room and have someone come and care for the wound there. Now doesn’t that sound grand, child?”

Rufus nodded again and the Angel reached out and took his hand. He wondered to himself how come it didn't ask about all the blood, about the stench of dead animal, about his wounds. He felt unease, but Jezebel’s presence softened his heart and he followed the Angel without arguments.