“My sweet,” His voice a purr, nude aside from a linen draped loosely over frame, a suggestion at modesty, as though he had any. “Are you coming back to bed after your sermon?”
Of all the humans who preached for him, who spread the word of Baal, who turned those who did not know towards him, this one was his favourite.
A lithe little thing, barely a man, and yet so wise. Looking into his eyes was like peering into a well that provided infinite knowledge, that gave and gave and gave without seeking in return.
If the demon could feel love, he might tell you he loved this human.
As the prophet gave his word that he would be back shortly, that he would be content to spend the day in bed with the demon, Baal laid back, smiling.
“I await your return, Dubi.”
He lounged for some time, festering in his own sloth, before he began to realise that the sun had gone far too high for his human not to have returned.
As he rose from the bed, clothing himself quickly, the feeling that something was very wrong began to settle in his bones. Pace quickened, stairs taken two at a time, human’s heart beating fast in his chest, before-
His prophet. His beautiful Dov. The sun of every life he’s ever lived. Laying in the street, crowd gathered round. There are murmurs of assassination, of murder, of knives pressed into skin the demon’s lips had touched merely hours before.
He falls to his knees beside the human, reaching out, ginger, as though to pluck the soul from body and keep it safe in his pocket, but he finds nothing. This beautiful, favourite man is gone. A shell. Taken from him for the truth he spoke, for the message he preached.
If only they had listened, they would have seen Baal’s revenge coming. Nothing left but anguish and hate in this heart he’d been borrowing, not a soul within the town sees the moon rise.
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