#batlaura

Over the course of a week or so–Honestly my perception of time is skewed–I'm on what is essentially house arrest. Not that I have it in me to try and do much of anything. Any school related activities have been put on hold. Most of my days are spent hiding in the dark of my room. Everyone else seems to want everything to go back to normal. I do too, but it's just not happening.

It seems that overall, luck is on my side. I haven't seen Belphegor since the incident. I doubt I could keep up this charade otherwise. On the other end of things, Beel also hasn't been around much. I thought we were friends, but I can't hold a candle to his favorite brother. 

Occasionally one of the brothers will try to entice me out of my safe haven. Attempts are met with the nearest item I can find flying through the air. I don't know why I'm responding like this. I wish I understood what was going on. 

Hours upon hours are spent crouched in the far corner of my room. It's the only place I feel safe enough to nod off. To be honest that's just the routine now. Sitting here, watching the door and taking note of where everyone is at any given time by the sound of footsteps. 

Whenever someone has the audacity to stay despite my precision yeeting I eventually lay off the violence and accept my fate. If I speak at all it's an apology that's quickly waved off. If it's Lucifer or Satan they waste their breath trying to pry answers about that night out of me. Mammon and Asmo try to get me to engage at all. Their efforts are in vain. I just stare at the wall. Rarely, Levi will sit on the other end of my room playing some mobile game in silence. In return I throw the softest pillows at him. It's the little things. 

I'm thankful for the quiet that settles over the house in the early hours of the morning. Nothing but ticking clocks, mice, and the occasional sound of Beelzebub rummaging through the fridge. 

Sometimes, when I'm sure I won't get caught, I force my aching joints into motion so I can venture outside. I don't really go anywhere. I just find somewhere to sit. Enjoying the silence. 

Foggy nights are my favorite. When the air is heavy and mist wraps around me like a weighted blanket. Moonlight illuminates nearby spiderwebs. I like watching the tiny creatures run around. It's peaceful.

Out in the night air, sometimes I think about just how absurd my life has become in just a few months. 

It seems just yesterday I got that stupid letter. 

Congratulations!

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at the Royal Academy of Diavolo.

Please return this letter with your signature to confirm your participation.

We are looking forward to welcoming you as part of our new exchange program.

Yours sincerely,

Diavolo

Waking up in a room full of demons was, at the time, definitely in the running for the weirdest thing to happen to me.  

After hitting my head on a table, I stood with all the grace of a newborn deer. Despite the irritating phone call, a dramatic and very handsy demon,  one who nonchalantly mentions he might cannibalize me, and a dude literally named Satan.... I did my best to go along with the chaos. I had thought.  "Well, if this isn't a hallucination, then I don't exactly have a choice in the matter." Plus, the free tuition thing is pretty sick. 

The first week was a blur. Wake up. Go to class. Put up with shenanigans. Sleep. Repeat. At some point I make a pact with the Avatar of Greed. Normal university things. 

It's the first serious brush with death that really made me think hmmm maybe "fuck it, we ball" isn't how I should proceed. After a trivia battle gone wrong, Mammon lectured me while bandaging an injured wrist. About halfway through I finally stopped disassociating. 

"Holy shit he could've killed me." That astute observation had earned me an eye roll from the second born. 

"I just said that! Weren't you listening? More trouble than your worth...." he goes off again. Honestly, I wasn't really paying attention.  

The next few days, I kept to myself, jumping at every sound. 

Eventually, Levithan corners me after class. 

"If I make a pact with you will you stop sulking? It's weird."  

I almost refused. Almost. Common sense kicked in and I came to a realization. If a pact can make Mammon call me my name, as opposed to "annoying" or "human" or "annoying human"... Maybe this is how I'll survive the year. Surely the more powerful demons I have bound to me, the safer things will be. 

"Deal."

Man… if you had told me back then I'd learn to love the very same unsettling creatures who kidnapped me…. Honestly I'm not even sure that this isn't some strange case of stockholm syndrome. Or the fact I'm now some sort of vampire? Anyways, I'd think you were crazy. Oh how times change. 

Some time later I'm escorted to the Demon Lord's Castle. Honestly, I feel like hot garbage but Lucifer insists that there is very important business I need to be present for. No amount of arguing makes him budge. Fortunately for me it's the middle of the night since even the weak otherworldly light in the Devildom causes major skin irritation. Despite the total lack of a sun. No amount of SPF can save me. 

I must be a sight to see. Sweaty, and tripping over everything. Both the artificial and candlelight so bright I can hardly think. It's best to keep my eyes closed as much as possible.

I'm grateful neither Diavolo or Barbatos comment on the state I'm in. 

I'm dragged along through more corridors than I can count. Eventually ending up in the dungeons...wait what? 

I try not to hyperventilate. I probably fail. It is kind of hard not to panic when you can hear the screams and pleading of tortured souls. The uncharacteristic silence from the chaotic demons just fuels my fear. What the fuck. Am I being arrested? For self defense? Or destruction of property? No way. That can't be it. I nearly draw blood due to my newfound habit of chewing my lip with the single fang occupying my mouth.

We stop outside a dark cell. Down here my eyes can actually adjust. At least I can see again. That said, maybe I'd rather not see the cobblestone walls stained with blood from who knows how many individuals. Will mine join them?

Behind bars, there's a hunched figure. They look up as we approach, through a mop of tangled green hair. The pointed teeth protruding from their mouth make me realize. Oh. They're like...me. 

"Alaura," a gloved hand lands on my shoulder making me jump. "All you need to do is identify this...pest, as your attacker and we can go home." Part of me is so incredibly relieved. The other part is pissed. 

Uh, yeah, not happening. How the fresh fuck would they expect me to confirm or deny that this dude tried to kill me. I didn't see shit. 

I lift my head enough to glare at Lucifer. And inform him once again, I saw nothing. 

Blah blah blah, "I took that into consideration however..." screwing my eyes shut, I shake my head. 

"Dude, can you shut up? I feel like shit. And really, who cares if they killed me I'm already dead! Undead. Whatever!"

Fuck. I'm so dizzy I can't tell up from down. I stumble a bit before Beelzebub reaches out to steady me. I push him away in favor of supporting my weight against a nearby wall. 

After catching my breath I continue my rant.  "I mean if anyone should be in prison it's that shady brother of yours who started this all. I mean I wouldn't be in this situation if he didn't try to fuckin kill me!" I'm hysterical at this point but I don't care. I've started and I can't stop. This is the most I've spoken in days. Every word left unsaid is spilling out. 

"And how can you call that place my home?! You kidnapped me, threatened my life, promised to keep me safe, threatened me again..."

My vision blurs once again. I hear footsteps backing away. Good. Part of me doesn't want to be angry. But I can't deal with their shit today.

"You all let me DIE!"

The ringing is stronger now and I can barely breathe. Wow, the floor is alot closer now. 

A new voice joins the mix. One that sounds nearly as broken as I feel. 

"When, might I ask, is the last time you morons fed the fledgling?" 

 Now that everyone has their attention on the cell, I can see past the wall of demons well enough to watch the other vampire get up, angry gesturing punctuates his words. 

When no one responds, he continues on ranting, bloodshot eyes illuminated by the torchlight. I suppose fire sets the mood for being skinned alive much better than any electricity ever could. 

"Of course! You couldn't pour piss from a boot with instructions on the heel! For the love of Christ someone get my stash-- which is from a consenting donor so don't get any ideas-- and feed the poor thing!" 

It's almost comical how he orders the demons around. Even more funny is the fact they listen. Running around like chickens with their heads cut off. The fact my vision is still swimming, making it look like there's two of everything only adds to the hilarity. 

I laugh to myself and close my eyes, trying to make the room stop spinning. In no time, someone is kneeling down beside me. 

"Take this." It's Barbatos. He hands me a glass of what, for the sake of my last shred of sanity, I tell myself is cranberry juice. Obviously I am skeptical.

I can do this. If Solomon can eat his own cooking and survive I can have some... juice. Bottoms up. Within seconds the liquid is gone. Honestly, it's not as bad as I feared. Oddly metallic. The texture is all wrong. It felt like it shouldn't shouldn't be room temperature. But it's something I guess I will get used to. Eventually. Not like I have a choice. 

A hand reaches to take the empty glass and there's a sound like an angry cat. When everyone stares at me in shock I can only assume I made that noise. 

Barbatos holds up his hands in defeat, stepping back. 

Now it's Asmo's turn to crouch down.  "Alaura, hon, we'll get you some more once this is all over 'Kay? You'll be much more comfy at home. Plus, it's so musty down here, don't you agree?" 

I shrug. "What else is there to say. I didn't see anything. End of story." 

Finally, Diavolo speaks up. Voice hoarse, almost like he'd been crying. Strange.

"It seems further investigation will be required. My deepest apologies for wasting your time." 

"Excuse me, did anyone think to ask me about this crime you accuse me of? I suppose you don't need intelligence to run a kingdom these days..."

Lucifer is quick to offend, despite the fact the insults are clearly directed to Diavolo. Actually that's probably why. 

"Why you little--"

"Lucifer, that won't be necessary." A sharp glare from the Prince silences him. 

"Saturday night you were unaccounted for. That same night one of my exchange students is violently attacked by a vampire. You are the only vampire I have any recollection of being here in decades. Otis, explain yourself." 

The vampire,  Otis, squares his shoulders. Which isn't that intimidating since he looks like he has one foot in the grave, but, hey! He certainly looks less meek when he isn't sitting on the damp ground.

"If you took the time beforehand to extend this... courtesy, you would know I spent the evening visiting an old friend. The other exchange student." His words drip with venom. 

"Solomon can prove your innocence? You are willing to bet your freedom and your life on the sorcerer?" 

"I am." 

With that, Lord Diavolo sends his faithful butler to fetch the local wizard. Unfortunately, no one thinks hey! Maybe we should send Alaura back home! so I'm stuck waiting around. Yay.

On the bright side, when Barbatos returns he brings more… juice. Otis seems like he might find the strength to break through the metal bars and fight me for it. 

While my health was initially improving, soon it takes a turn for the worse. If I move too suddenly the injuries I sustained open up again. I'm tired of the worried looks exchanged daily between the brothers. As an apology for snapping at everyone, I try to leave my room more often. I join them for movie nights and dinners but that's about it. Afterwards I go back into hiding, exhausted. It seems no one has a damn clue what they are doing since, late at night, while I'm staring at the walls as always, a green haired vampire I haven't seen since that day in the dungeons is knocking on my door. 

I knew beforehand that whoever was walking towards me wasn't someone I knew well, the way they walk isn't familiar in the least. Regardless, I drag myself off the floor and let him in. Ignoring the way my joints scream in protest.  I make an attempt at an apology, despite the fact I had no knowledge of his imprisonment. Otis brushes it off.

"You can make it up to me by sitting down and letting me work." 

He wastes no time, asking me a million questions about what exactly seems to be bothering me. It is eerily similar to childhood trips to the Doctor's office. But this time I won't receive that sweet, sweet banana flavored medicine. 

Turns out the fang problem had something to do with me not actually using my new teeth. The solution? Freeze blood in an ice cube tray to chew on. Good to know I can still eat Popsicles post-mortem. 

"You know, I'm glad your boyfriend came to me when he did. This is a nasty infection you got." I take it back. This is more like being at the dentist, Otis making small talk while wrist deep in my face hole. 

"What boyfriend?" It sounds more like wah oyfen. I'm surprised he can understand what I'm saying. Maybe he went to dental school? I'm sure being older than sliced bread gives plenty of opportunities to further your education.

"More than one? Don't worry I'm not judging. Most immortals give up on that monogamy business by the end of their first century. It was the redheaded one." 

"Beel's not my boyfriend."

"Hmm. You should tell him that. Now normally I'd say gargle saltwater. Still do that. But don't swallow any, trust me. Your body is going to be adjusting to your new diet and the first year is rough. It will reject any regular sustenance. Not fun. I know." 

Tell who what? Sure, the guy who's avoiding me like the plague is my significant other. That makes perfect sense. 

Anyways, thinking back on the last time I tried eating real food…. Yeah I'm not risking it. It felt a bit like my entire digestive system wanted to make sure I die and stay dead. 

"Bite things. Liquid diet. Cool. What about coffins?" I'm half joking.

"No. Trade secret but, coffins aren't all that comfortable." Said with all the confidence of a man who has actually slept in a coffin. Noted.

Otis comes by the house biweekly to check on my progress and deliver more blood. Where he gets it all I'll never know… as far as my uneducated palate can tell it's all the same person, unless all blood tastes the same. Must be someone who's into that freaky shit.

In the meantime, I'm integrating back into the House of Lamentation ecosystem. 

Satan lent me some books on vampirism. I spend alot of my alone time reading up on vampire biology. Someone has scribbled notes throughout the books, crossing out lines and replacing them with contradictory information. 

Apparently the first year or so is a shit show. Young vampires are called fledglings. Although young is a relative term here considering they list young as anyone under 100. I'll be in a stage of immortal adolescence for a while. Technically I am capable of dying again but it would take an incredibly talented magician or a higher being, making the Devildom less dangerous than it was for human-me, but still a risk. I make a note to ask Otis if I still have a soul. 

Speaking of, Otis starts to visit more frequently and for longer periods of time. He gives me pointers on the vampiric lifestyle and we chat about our lives. 

All my questions are met with cryptic answers. "How old are you?" "Very." "Where do you get the blood?" "A creature with a pulse." "Is there a cure?" He changes the subject quick when I ask that. Still, despite his exterior, Otis seems genuinely interested in my well being and life. The taking is unsettling but it's nice to have someone to talk to who knows what I'm dealing with. 

I'm crunching on frozen blood while recounting my very first day in the Devildom. I had spent the night in my room, reading the full list of school rules . So I knew exactly how far I could push them. By morning I had spikes along the collar of my uniform, I painted the buttons and shoes, plus some stress induced embroidery here and there. Eventually I added several other modifications. 

"You should've seen Lucifer's face when I recited the entire dress code! I swear he almost popped a blood vessel." 

Otis nearly chokes on the blood he is sipping. I still haven't gotten a straight answer on where he gets it all. 

According to the books, fresh blood is ideal for proper nutrition but I don't want to worry about that yet. I'll take good enough if it means I don't need to think about possibly killing someone. At least with the donated stuff, I can have some hope the person is still alive.

The brother's still have classes to attend,  so during the day I hole up in my room. After school there's always someone fighting for my attention.

Monday nights are spent in Asmo's spa sized bathroom. A ritual that's been in place ever since we got back from the…. Eventful sleepover at the castle. Getting chased by a giant snake is bad for the skin. It's all fluffy robes and slippers and lavender scented steam. He keeps me up to date on the latest gossip while we smear clay on our faces.

"This should help minimize the scarring," He explains, applying some strange cream to the scar tissue his brother left behind.  

"Thanks." I'm not feeling all that talkative but I know I can rely on Asmo to fill the silence. 

"Y'know, I'm glad the no reflection thing is a myth. Not that I wouldn't love doing your makeup everyday but not being able to see your cute self? I couldn't stand for it," He runs around grabbing various products to show me. A strong perfume to hide the fact I apparently smell less human than before. A concealer that manages to be lightweight but still full coverage enough to hide pactmarks, so it should have no issues hiding the scars. 

I thank him again, feeling awkward with all the attention after weeks of avoiding everything with a pulse. 

"Of course, Laurlaur!" I roll my eyes at the nickname. Once Mammon tried to call me that. I kicked him in the shin. Though that was nothing compared to Asmo's anger. Apparently, it's his nickname and no one else's. Despite the fact I find it annoying at the best of times, I know it comes from a place of genuine care. So I suffer through it. Don't tell Asmo it's grown on me, it'll go to his head. 

"Oh and you better be all healed up by Devildom fashion week. You promised to be my plus one! Don't think you can worm your way out of that!" I'd forgotten the agreement I made, back when I first came to hell. Asmo was excited to have someone else with an interest in fashion to rate red carpet gowns with. When he learned I've never been to a fashion show he immediately decided I needed to start with the best of the best.

" Wouldn't dream of it." A small smile causes the mask carefully applied to my face to crack, sending small flakes of clay scattered about. 

"There's that smile I missed so much! The vibes have been so melancholy lately and I for one am over it. Come on let's wash this off, I have a new serum I think you'll love." Does this man ever take a breath? Still, I allow myself to get dragged along. 

All it takes is a month or two of Otis playing Dr. Dracula and I'm somewhat functional.  At the very least, I have two fangs, and my injuries have actually healed. I still can't stand lights, and everything is so damn loud, but I've been told I will adjust with time.

Slowly but surely I learn to exist with minimal pain. Small adjustments are made around the house, when I leave my room the lights are dimmed, curtains are always closed lest the strange day-cycle of the Devildom fries me to a crisp. According to Otis, he hasn't been in Hell long enough to know how "daylight" affects vampires. So for now it's better safe than sorry. The idea of never feeling the warmth of the sun again is depressing, so naturally, I put that in a little box to deal with later. Right beside my garlic bread related woes. 

Sadly for me, the demons don't have a mute button so I just deal with the constant screeching. Could be worse. 

Since I can't leave the house, Diavolo and Lucifer work on a cover story. My absence has started major rumors. My favorite is that Mammon traded my soul for a pair of Gucci slides. Alas, instead of letting everyone think I ceased to exist it's instead announced that I "fell ill and needed to go to a human world physician". I guess the exchange program is being extended due to the fragility of human lives. Once I'm given the all clear I'll be expected to go back to school. Yay. 

What will I remember?

"Does it hurt? Finding it hard to breathe? I'm sure it must be very unpleasant." The sadistic ass was taunting me. Quite literally adding insult to injury

What will I forget?

I did all this because I saw how much this family was hurting and this is the thanks I get?Someone laughing over me as the life drains from my eyes? After I go through all of this bullshit some stupid demon thinks he has every right in the world to end my life?

Honestly, if I didn't have claws tearing into my throat while this asshole is crushing my windpipe, I'd probably be tempted to smack that stupid grin off his face. Unfortunately, I'm in survival mode.

When this life is ending and gone

Fine. You want to kill me? I came into the world screaming and covered in someone else's blood. I plan on leaving the same way. It's game time, bitch.

What will I regret?

The next few moments are a blur of flailing limbs. One particularly well-timed kick sends me falling to the floor. Not risking it, l don't bother to catch my breath. Breathing is secondary. I need to run.

If tomorrow I don't wake up, what happens?

Moonlight shines through a nearby window like a beacon. Here goes nothing.

My sunrise, or sunset?

One foot in front of the other. Just keep running. He's behind you. Keep going. Almost there..

If I never were born

Fuck. Strong arms grab me, stopping any chance of escape. No. It's not over. I'm so close. I sink my teeth into the nearest thing I can find. Not letting go until I hear a sickening crunch followed by a string of curses. Name another human who took a chunk of flesh out of a demon's hand. I'll wait.

If I never died

Last shot. Come on. Somehow, I find the strength to launch myself out the window. Glass tears my arms to ribbons, but l'm flying and l'm free. Eat your heart out, Sally Hardesty.

Would it even matter at all?

All too soon, I collide with the pavement, knocking what little air I had left out of my lungs. I drag my bloodied body along, rocks and broken glass digging into my palms. I keep going until I physically can't move.

What should I decide?

Hopefully this will buy me enough time for someone to realize what happened. I mean. They wouldn't let me die, right? If even Belphegor was right and they didn't give a shit about me.. at the very least Lucifer wouldn't want the exchange program to be a failure. It would mess with Diavolo's plans. I'm not dying.

I always imagined I'd mean something to

someone

At least that's what I try to convince myself. The blood loss would beg to differ. But. I'll be okay. I'm sure magic will fix me up in no time. Just stay awake until help arrives. I try to focus on all the things I'll miss if I fall asleep. Late night nacho shenanigans with Beel. Watching Legally Blonde with Asmo. Helping Mammon hide from Lucifer. Kicking Levi's ass at DevilKart. All these precious moments that I'd hate to never experience again.

If I won't, 'least I tried

I'm fading in and out of consciousness. Time feels funny. Everything is in brief snippets. After what could have been hours or minutes. I register someone speaking. It doesn't sound familiar. Pressure on my chest. Sharp pain in my neck. Belphegor must've caught up with me. I wait for more torture but it doesn't come. Just a strange numbness. Decorating cakes with Luke. Feeding stray cats with Satan.

When my body suffers

So much yelling. It's too loud. I think I'm being moved? That's Mammon's voice! I did it. I'm safe. Why is he crying? They can fix me, right? It's too cold. Maybe not.

When to breath is pain

Levi is here, too! Maybe.. no. He's crying too. Oh. I guess this is it. At least I'm not alone.

Is it really madness to think

I try to reach for the nearest person. Maybe I can will someone hold my hand? No, that just made them move more. Don't leave me! Please.

Think of breaking this chain?

"Lucifer, get yer ass out here," He's staying. Thank fuck.

Is the future mine?

"Alaura, can you hear me?" After a failed attempt at nodding my head, which honestly just hurts way too much, I opt to try again to find Mammon's hand. This time, I'm actually successful.

It's kind of funny how, despite the fact I lay here dying, this is the most alive and real I've felt in a long time. These last few months have been spent on autopilot. Honestly, I didn't really believe any of it was real. I suppose death has a sobering effect.

God knows I have a past

So much commotion. So many voices. Not like I can understand much of what they are saying. Not when it all blurs together. I hold onto Mammon like a lifeline. Which, I suppose he is.

Where's my second chapter?

It seems they decide it is in everyone's best interest to not leave me lying on the ground in the middle of the night. That would be great if not for the fact they have to move me.

Or will the first also be my last?

The gaping throat wound is, understandably, not fucking pleasant. When strong arms lift me off the pavement, I struggle with energy I didn't know I had left. Kicking and screaming until it feels like my vocal cords are fried.

Is my story over if I fall asleep?

"I know, I'm sorry." The second born whispers, rings digging into my skin. Or maybe that's more glass. Regardless, he cradles my head against his chest, minimizing any movement that would further irritate my injuries.

Would anybody find me?

Crashing can be heard throughout the house. Part of me hopes Belphegor falls through a window too. Just for a small taste of his own medicine.

And would anybody weep?

With that pleasant thought, sleep takes over

I can't even pretend I care

But songs I'll never sing

Well, that means something

Yes, that means something

The next few days are spent in relative darkness. I can't see but I hear everything. It's like a strangely pleasant sleep paralysis. Plus I'm never alone for long. Asmo sits beside me, gently plucking glass from my skin, cleaning wounds of any dirt, and using a cloth to wet my lips and prevent dehydration. I get a whole manicure while he tells me about how I "got Belphie good". Apparently the majority of the dried blood stuck under my nails isn't even mine.

If it's not Asmo, it's Mammon. Half of the time he's moaning about how stupid I am. The rest is spent begging me to wake up. I try to find a way to tell him I'm right here. I'm awake. But I'm frozen in place. I don't think I've ever heard him cry this much.

Occasionally, Satan will pay a visit. Reading the Odyssey to keep me entertained. He's also the only one to update me on what's actually going on. From his visits, I can gather that I had a second attacker, not just Belphegor. The plot thickens. I barely have time to process that before learning said bitch was a vampire. This whole paralysis was just the beginning of my transformation.

Yeah, that's a hard pill to swallow.

I'm not left to think on it long. It turns out that one of the only two humans in the Devildom disappearing off the face of the earth does not go unnoticed. Doubly so when it comes to the resident angels.

With that in mind, I suppose it's not really a surprise that Luke all but breaks into the House of Lamentation, demanding to know what those horrible demons have done.

It'd be sweet if not for the little fact the second he got within ten feet of me, it feels like my bones are melting. You could tell me the air has turned to boiling water and I'd believe you.

His tiny body rushes into the room, grabbing my arm. "Oh, Alaura! Don't worry, I'll save you!"

I can only scream in agony as my flesh sizzles in his grasp. Shocked, Luke grabs my face before he gets a fucking clue. Cute kid, not the sharpest crayon in the box.

The pain of it all causes my eyes to open for the first time in days. I can hardly register the blinding light coming from the hallway. Just that this poor kid, who is, granted, older than I will ever be, starts sobbing out apologies as he stumbles backwards.

Smoke comes off my skin in waves, right where the tiny handprints sit. What is happening?

Poor Luke is dragged away, crying while half a dozen demons pour into my room.

Were they always this loud? I can't process the million different voices all speaking at once. It feels like all the small noises are worming their way into my head and eating my brain from the inside out. Footsteps sound like gunshots. The sound of fabric rustling makes me want to rip my hair out. It's too fucking loud.

Eventually catching on, Lucifer orders everyone to let me rest. He carefully applies some sort of ointment to my injuries before following suit. Alone in the dark I can finally begin to piece together what happened.

Belphegor killed me. Or tried to. Someone else swooped in to finish the job. But that's besides the point. Belphegor tried to kill me. It seems the others don't hate me enough to want me dead. Or at the very least are keeping up appearances. I'm not sure where my attempted killer is but I haven't seen or heard about them since that night.

Right... how long has it even been? I'll have to ask when someone comes around again. Knowing my housemates it won't be long before someone sneaks back into my room. Lucifer be damned.

Next order of business... apparently I'm a vampire? Not the most outlandish thing I've seen during my time in the Devildom but it's certainly up there. All I really know is from what Satan's told me and whatever I can find in my notes on Devildom history. Based on what the textbooks say, vampires are extinct in Hell. So how did this happen?

Only one way to find out and I need the facts before I let myself have a crisis. I guess the textbooks are a good starting point. Ignoring my protesting muscles, I drag myself out of bed to find any information I can.

Blah blah due to the vampire population rising at unprecedented rates and the threat to lower level demons, the King called upon the royal army to deal with the infestation.

Infestation? So I'm vermin now?

Startled by sudden pain in my jaw, my mouth opens in a silent gasp. Crimson blood drips onto the page. Just a few specks at first, but before long, I'm nearly choking as the liquid spills from my mouth.

Frantic, I run through the halls. Not particularly caring about the trail of blood I leave in my wake. Thank fuck no one is in the bathroom.

I lock the door behind me. Muscle memory. Before dashing to the mirror.

Holy shit. Maybe I'm not dead but I sure as hell look it. My body is littered with healing cuts, not to mention the two angry handprints that scorched my skin. Then there's my throat. It's healed somewhat but the mangled flesh has barely begun to scar. Honestly, it doesn't look like something I should've survived.

Fuck. The dull throbbing in my mouth turned sharp once again. Mouth opened as wide as I can manage, I try to inspect the affected area, but God, there's so much blood - I hear the small clink of something hitting the ceramic.

Holy shit. No. This isn't... this can't be happening. I'm hyperventilating as I force myself to look down. There's no way that...nope my entire tooth is sitting in the sink. Cool.... this is just great. I'm. I'm just hallucinating. Or something. That's the only explanation. Maybe I ate Solomon's cooking. That could be it. Food poisoning. Really bad food poisoning.

"Alaura?" A low voice interrupts my manic train of thought. "Alaura, please... open the door."

I don't even bother trying. I can hardly hold myself upright. Who's laughing? Is that my voice? Shit. I'm on the floor. When did that happen? The edges of my vision are fuzzy and dark. When I close my eyes, all I can see is a startling picture of my tooth. A small amount of gum is still hanging on for dear life. Much more blood than what could be considered healthy framing it like some grotesque work of art. Shit. My head hits the cold tile, and I'm watching as the door shakes on its hinges. Maybe I should've locked it.

Once again I wake up, tucked snugly in my bed. This time, however, I can spot a certain white-haired demon curled up on my floor, snoring softly. Cute but there is no way that's comfortable. I can see the dark circles and irritated skin, most likely raw from crying.

For a moment I'm transported back to simpler times. Mammon breaking into my room after a night at the casino, ranting about how "shits rigged", before passing out. Usually I'd shove a pillow under his head and throw a blanket over him before going to bed myself. Maybe even play with his hair. It's soft as hell but I know he'd complain if I did it while he was awake. I even got a beanbag chair at one point so his spine doesn't riot. With such a mundane scene, I can almost pretend things are normal.

Almost. When I poke at the tooth causing me grief earlier, I find it is longer and sharper than I remember. No. No. No. No.

"Mammon," I hiss. "Mammon wake up."

He wakes with a start, rubbing sleep from his eyes before jumping into action.

"You're up!"

I nod slowly. Knees hugged to my chest. "Is this real?"

With a sigh he plops down on my bed, walking me through complex math problems until I know without a doubt my subconscious could never make that up.

Teary-eyed, I stare at Mammon before I finally speak again. Talking feels strange with a killer toothache and one fang.