MC Goes to the Demon Brothers During a Storm

Part 2: Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Belphegor

Part 1: Lucifer, Mammon, and Levi

Today the storm would hit. All the Devildom news channels were talking about the immense storm that was brewing just outside the city walls. Storms were not unfamiliar to you, in fact, you had grown accustomed to the regular cycle of fair and foul weather that would haunt your hometown; the everchanging seasons were as natural to you as the day preceeding the night. You had been living in the Devildom for more than a year now, and you were slowly getting used to the peculiarities of this previously unfamiliar realm. There was no shortage of surprises in store as you navigated this world of demons. Everything was bigger, scarier, and more dangerous than anything you’d ever known in the Human Realm. If even demons were scared of this storm, then it must be far more terrifying than everything you’ve endured to date. A human could never survive a storm that even demons feared.

At least, that’s what the little voice in your head kept telling you.

You knew better than to listen to it, of course, and yet its insidious and malicious call was too loud to ignore. That small doubt developed into a fear, one that curled and gnarled itself in your rib cage and caused dread to creep up the arteries to your brain. The storm made you nervous. No matter how you tried to shake off the feeling, it lingered— impossible to ignore. It was only a matter of hours before the stormreached the House of Lamentation.

As the day began its inevitable descent into night, the fear’s grip on your heart grew stronger. You knew that if you had any chance of getting any sleep this night, then you would need to speak to him to finally put your heart at ease.

Satan

You knew Satan’s habits fairly well by now. When he kept his door open, leaving nothing more than a thin window into his room, it signalled he sought company. He was an intellectual. His thoughts had a habit of spiralling beyond his control; a crack in his otherwise private space meant that he was never truly alone to be overcome by them. He would rarely admit to it, naturally, instead opting to leave this near invisible signal in the hope that you would decipher its meaning. His message was clear: Satan was also worried about the storm.

The floorboards squeaked under your feet and alerted him to your presence.

“Hm? Oh, it’s only you.” The tension seemed to roll off his shoulders with his blossoming smile. “I thought I’d take the opportunity to place some of these books back onto their shelves.”

Books are a sanctuary, you remember Satan telling you once. To see him turn his attention so wholly to his personal library at a time like this was no surprise. You wrapped your arms around his waist, pressed your cheek against him and squeezed lovingly; the statuesque figure in your arms softened from marble into clay, relaxing into your embrace. His chest thrummed as he practically purred with contentment. He rested a single hand on yours and was still. The pressure of your body against his grounded him. You were here, with him, just when he needed you. In his other, he held a well-worn book. Its gold lettering had faded over years of handling, the delicate filigree pattern all but lost to time, yet the slight embossed lettering on the spine had survived. The title was still barely visible, but only when tilted at a particular angle which allowed the shadows to be cast in such a way for the letters to be revealed.

Satan tilted the book and smiled to himself.

“‘The Tempest’…how apt.” He placed the book back onto the shelf and lifted another book from the pile. It was similar in appearance to the last, but had evidentally seen more use, as some of the cover had begun to peel at the corners. He clutched it closer to his chest and turned his head to you. “Would…you like me to read to you?”

You nodded and reluctantly released Satan from your grip. The request stemmed from Satan’s desire to seek comfort for himself, but he appreciated the pretense your presence offered him. Unlike his brothers’ rooms, Satan’s room always felt much colder and worn down than the rest of the house; it showed every century its long lamentable existence. If Satan spent more time cleaning than reading, then perhaps the room might feel more inviting. The large window opened out onto a wide expanse of rolling cloud and crackling lightning, torrents of rain crashed against the antique glass, and a slight draught whistled through a hairline crack in the window sill. You draped his pawprint blanket around your shoulders and motioned for Satan to join you.

He nestled in beside you. Delicately, he opened the book and started to read…

Asmodeus

“Come in, darling,” Asmo’s voice warbled from beyond the door. You swung the door open with a slight shove.

A heady fragrance of rose and jasmine saturated the air. An ethereal steam rose intricately from Asmo’s exposed skin, which had been blushed pink from his prolonged soak in the bath. Asmo lay atop his covers, his favourite fleece dressing gown covered him from head to knees, and he rested his head on his arm. It was strange to see him so…quiet. He wasn’t even dressed yet. His peach hair fell in a mess of clumsy curls, haphazardly dried with a bath towel instead of his rigorous blow-dry regimen. With a simple jerk of his immaculately manicured finger, he motioned for you to join him on the bed.

You clambered onto his bed and settled beside him. You reached beneath his dressing gown to nestle against his chest. Glistening droplets dotted along his collarbone captured the light, glittered and rolled surreptiously down his torso; you were mesmerised. His skin radiated warmth and was temptingly soft to the touch. Asmo wrapped you inside his dressing gown, enveloping you in a fluffy caccoon, until your every sense was focussed on him. You lay with your cheek against his nape, breathing in the enticing aroma that seemed to be infused into his very skin. The sound of his heartbeat a constant rhythm that drowned out the storm beyond those four walls.

“There was a storm just like this not long after we first arrived in the Devildom,” Asmo said after a long silence.

Now that you were so close to him, his voice sounded almost like your own. There was a rawness to it that you’d never heard before. A grittiness in his voice that rumbled in his chest, that was repressed and filtered out of his pitch-perfect falsetto. It was beautiful.

“It was awful! The wind completely destroyed my hair and that rain—! Ugh, it was horizontal! I had mascara running down my chin, I was so wet. I remember finally getting to my room to freshen up and seeing myself in the mirror…” his grip on you tightened as he pressed countless silent kisses to the top of your head. “It was then that I realised how different the Devildom was to the Celestial Realm.”

His silence was heavy, as though carrying more sorrow than mere words could ever convey. The honesty of his trembling embrace was a side of him you’d never seen before.

“Can I stay here tonight?” You asked meekly.

“Of course, hon,” he whispered, while his arms pulled you closer. “A few more moments like this and then we’ll get ready for bed, ok?”

Beelzebub

It didn’t take you long to find him. Upon walking into the kitchen, you saw Beel sizing up three large mugs. He was evidently deep in thought as he weighed two of them in each hand, allowing his arms to mimic the balancing motion of an antique kitchen scale. He finally shook his head and replaced the mug in his left hand with his favourite gargantuan gallon-sized tankard. You had given it to him for his birthday; a tingling satisfaction settled in your stomach each time you saw him drink from it.

“You look busy,” you said as you peered into the bubbling pot on the fire.

“Belphie wanted one of my signature Devil Dark Hot Chocolate Surprises. I thought I’d make one for the two of us too, so we can drink it all together.” Beel wiped his mouth and diligently stirred the velvety elixir of molten chocolate.

The air was filled with the delectable scent of warm cocoa. Beel dipped a spoon into the mixture, blew on it to cool it down, and held it out to you. You tasted it. A deep bitterness took root at the base of your tongue, delicately balanced by the sweet thick cream, and brought to life with a surprising fiery heat. The knotty fear that had settled in your chest relinquished its hold on your heart. Encouraged by your glowing reaction, Beel deftly served the three hot chocolates into the mugs on the kitchen top. He topped it with a mountain of whipped cream and decorated them with marshmallow stars. His large hands moved dextrously while constructing this confectionary masterpiece. It was a work of art, but there was still a question lingering in your mind.

“What’s the surprise?” You asked.

“I added some 'Black Star Liqueur’,” Beel whispered conspiratorily. “I stole it from Lucifer’s drink cabinet.”

Belphegor

How was it possible to lose a whole demon? The Avatar of Sloth wasn’t exactly known for playing something as energetic as 'Hide and Seek’. You searched everywhere: the twins’ bedroom, the attic, the living room, the library, the kitchen, and even Lucifer’s private study; everywhere that was warm and cosy; anywhere that would be a perfect napping spot. After what felt like hours of searching, you were ready to give up and attempt to face the storm alone. A lonely light flickered and caught your eye.

The Planetarium rattled in the screeching wind. Its glass ceiling and tall windows provided an unobscured view of the weather outside. Silhouetted by the flashes of lightning was a solitary figure, who sat half-dozing, gazing out upon the stormfront. The storm yowled like a great cat, hissing and baring its fangs at its advesary, and flashed its electric eyes at the House of Lamentation. Belphie and you were but mere goldfish gawking helplessly from your creaking glass bowl. The great storm cat’s claws scratched at the glass dome in time with the tree branches scraping across the roof; it was a cacophony of crashing thunder, wind and rain.

You cleared your throat and startled Belphie. He looked at you, his expression wide-eyed and alert. You padded softly to his side to join him on the seat under the window. On instinct, his arm curled around your waist and held you close, until even your breaths seemed to rise and fall in perfect harmony.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” you said as you nuzzled into his hair. “I was looking for you everywhere.”

“It’s too noisy to sleep,” Belphie huffed.

His words surprised you. A pensive air fell over Belphie whilst he watched the storm’s ferocious onslaught against the Devildom. It was though you were watching a steadfast sentinel silently standing guard against the elements. His eyes never left the sky. You too were captivated by the ebb and flow of turbulent cloud currents that continually swirled into everchanging patterns.

Outside, the very roots of your beloved Devildom trembled and strengthened to withstand the worst storm in centuries. Yet in here, in his arms, you felt calm— you felt safe. It was always so easy to sleep in the arms of your beloved demon.