She was well-aware of the eyes that were eating her up, wishing to know her taste – want was worship, and it fed her now as it had throughout the centuries. But want was never sated, and the Prince of Lust led her devotees by ravenous example: her own eyes were fastened on Crowley. “Let’s indulge, then,” she said, visions of Crowley with her mouth stained red flickering before her mind’s eye. Lipstick, wine… Blood.
Have you ever known me to refuse a good time? “Never.” It was why she adored her. But before she could get the words out, Crowley issued a challenge of her own, and Asmodeus felt it crank the pit of hellfire between her rib cage and spine, her dark gaze growing darker still. She thought of all those eyes, all that want, all that worship; thought of the way it fed her but left her hungry, sated her but only for a moment–
Asmodeus leaned in, red lips brushing against the shell of Crowley’s ear as she murmured, all eyes on them: “You can always try.”
Threat, invitation – she was sure of nothing but the feeling of desire, the way it left her starving. She stepped back, in a show of restraint. A rare thing for Asmodeus, all things considered – but she was playing the long game.
“C’mon,” she said, all ease as she threaded her arm through the crook of Crowley’s, “I don’t want to miss Mass.”
There were powers at play, that much the members of the Sphinx Club knew, though they knew not who or why. A certain veil still hid the truth of Eden’s darkest corners, even from the most devout, and while Asmodeus had certainly preyed on them before, they had yet to grown wise to her ways. It was a respite for the occultists, and so their locale was a strange thing, among the otherwise neon-lit glass pillars of Eden Prime. They had made their own little Garden, and greenery hid them from the rest of the screaming city.. though, if you stood outside the iron gates, you had a clear view of the old world fantasy. Its columns were made from white marble, and above its entrance was a relief carved from the same stone: a menagerie of beasts ready to spring.
Wolves chasing a stag, a serpent hiding among foliage, even a stray manticore stalking a unicorn. If you looked closer, you could see the glyphs hidden among the leaves – the squared circle, the triangles signifying the elements, pentagrams interlocking with seven-pointed stars. Sigils, even – though none of them looked quite right; something lost in translation since the days of John Dee.
Still, they had tried. Here, real flame danced in braziers that lit the entrance, and if there had been a queue, there were no signs of it: members only, tonight. But they wouldn’t need that. Lucifer may have been crowned Satan, King of Hell – but he had built a pantheon, not a tyranny, and here, they were goddesses, meant to be worshipped with blood and bone.
Not that the bouncers guarding the doorway were aware of it. But they didn’t have to be. Between the treetops that fenced the Sphinx Club in, she caught a glimpse of the skyscrapers light up – blue, purple, pink.. red. Some nights, she enjoyed the game of it; talking her way through the front door, or otherwise sneaking in. But now, she felt impatience gnawing at her.
The braziers sparked as she walked past them and up the porch steps. Her smile sliced open with a dark purr, the Prince of Lust speaking no words known to human ears. The two men moved to open the double-doors, their stares vacant – lost, for the moment, in a haze. She turned to Crowley, and she could feel it coursing through her: power, wicked and gleeful and wanton, all of it showing in her smile. She had half a mind to drag Crowley out into the hedge maze instead, impatient – but she forced herself into restraint, again, leash held tight.
“It’s a packed house, tonight,” Asmodeus said, voice still tinged with the infernal. “They’ve yet to get started on their sacrament. We can have our pick. .. You can pick. Tire me out, champ.”
There’d never been a time when Crowley hadn’t indulged herself. From drugs to liquor to sex to violence, she refused to deny herself anything. She was a proud glutton - always consuming more. It seemed like ages ago that she’d grown up wild and starving for more in the concrete jungle of Philadelphia. Something more than just dead-end jobs and failed marriages. A junkie always searching for her next fix and luckily the future had provided that fix so sweetly. The lights were bright in Eden Prime and the shadows were larger.
Asmodeus’ lips against her ear was perfect.
Crowley’s lips twitched, pulling back into a feral grin. Asmodeus always seemed to understand that the dark beast in her chest constantly needed feeding. After all, it was by the older demon’s hand that Crowley usually ended up close to satiated. Close but never quite. Of course, the challenges that she provided made it fun too.
“You know.” Crowley murmured, stepping out from the booth and already slipping a cigarette between her lips. “I think yours is the only Mass I’ll get on my knees for.” With Asmodeus’ arm firmly tucked with hers, she escorted the other demon out of the restaurant for a few steps before pausing. “One sec.” Unhooking her arm from hers, Crowley pulled out the relic in her pocket. Smiling almost fondly at the flash bang in her hand, she yanked the ring, opened the door to the restaurant and tossed it inside. Spinning the ring around her finger, she returned to Asmodeus.
Smoke trickling out of her mouth, Crowley flicked her cigarette away and followed the Prince toward the club. The closer they got, the more out of place Crowley became and more terrifying Asmodeus became. Flamelight flickered off her red hair, drawing all eyes to to her and taking them off Crowley. It was rare for Crowley to share the spotlight but it was impossible not to with Asmodeus. She was hard not to look at. Naturally, Crowley took advantage of that. Each person they passed that stopped to steal a look, Crowley’s nimble fingers found a way to take something back. She had to offer something when the church came around for collections.
It was tantalizing, Crowley would admit. Had she been human still, maybe she would have succumbed to this place as well but she was more than that. Even now, she could hear the city breathing and moaning through the carefully constructed fairytale the Sphinx Club had concocted here. It was too peaceful. She felt the familiar itch begin to crawl up her spine, the respect for Asmodeus and the intrigue in their game being the only thing stopping her from kicking over one of the braziers and watching the trees burn.
While the bouncers buckled immediately under the Prince’s presence, she felt their eyes turn to her with renewed wariness. Crowley didn’t hide her danger well. She wore it proudly, openly, violently. If a fight were to break out now, she knew exactly who she’d target just for the sheer fun of hearing him squeal like a bunny getting its spine broken. She blew him a kiss as she passed.
“And what does their sacrament usually entail?” Crowley murmured in the Prince’s ear. “Sacrifice? A little blood play? The pure, chosen virgin on an altar?” She shifted her feet, fancy footwork leaving her walking backwards in front of Asmodeus as they delved deeper, searching for some poor soul. Or souls.
When it came to opportunity, Crowley didn’t necessarily like going after low-hanging fruit. She preferred something with higher stakes and risk. She’d stolen straight from Satan in first fifty years for a reason. If she was going to live forever, it was going to be worth it. Still, it wasn’t usual that something brilliant landed in her lap but as her gaze flicked round, it landed on someone she hadn’t expected to see.
A certain child of a higher ranking official in Eden Prime. Her tongue pressed against her canine so hard that she tasted blood already.
