Damned If You Do (5 page)

Seth smiled, the fingers of his left hand slipping easily into Abaddon's. The calluses on his fingertips from guitar and fiddle strings tickled across Abaddon's palm.

“Come on. We'll slip out the back way.”

Abaddon's heart leapt. He swallowed, not sure he understood. “What?”

“My sense of direction gets all messed up in the tent, but I know it's there. Can you see it?”

“I know where it is.” He'd watched Zed whisk Seth away through it the last few nights. He glanced toward Zed. He saw the man's understanding dawn, realizing Seth intended to escape his watch. “We better be quick,” he said to Seth.

“I'm ready if you are.”

Abaddon gripped Seth's hand tighter and led him off the stage, away from a fuming Zed, through the back door of the tent. They ran for the trees, both of them stifling their laughter like children as Abaddon led Seth through the shadows, away from the revival, deep into the heart of the woods.

Like all devils, he knew the path to temptation.

Once they were out of sight of the camp, they slowed to a walk. Abaddon still held Seth's hand. He loved the way it felt, that single point of contact where the warmth of Seth's soul could seep through his flesh, but now that they were away, he began to feel awkward about it. He let go, and immediately felt a sense of loss. He wasn't sure how much of the disappointment was his own and how much of it came from Seth.

“I'm glad you came on stage,” Seth said, his voice hushed with shyness and uncertainty. “I thought you were there the last few nights, but Zed…” He laughed, shaking his head. “I'd ask him. He didn't want to tell me, but he wasn't willing to lie. So he'd say things like, ‘Do not concern yourself with Abaddon's whereabouts, young Seth.'”

His mimicry of Zed's deep voice and stiff wording made Abaddon laugh. “He really does sound like Darth Vader, sometimes.”

Seth's smile fell a bit. “I wouldn't know. I've never seen
Star Wars
. Or
Star Trek
. Whichever one that is.”

“Not even before you went blind?”

Seth shook his head. “We don't see movies, or watch TV.”

“Cell phones?”

“Definitely not. We barely even listen to the radio.”

“Oh.” Abaddon felt like an ass for inadvertently tainting Seth's bright mood. “Well, you aren't missing much. Just picture a huge black guy flying around space in a giant basketball, killing his minions and occasionally blowing up planets.”

“It sounds horrifying.”

“It's possible I'm oversimplifying.”

Seth stopped walking, turning to face Abaddon. He looked uncharacteristically somber, and Abaddon let his soul sense loose a bit, feeling for an explanation. Not too much. Not allowing himself to get a taste of that cotton-candy soul, because it would drive him mad. Just a quick flick of his senses like the tongue of a snake. The air around Seth was tainted with citrus, almost sour with loneliness and longing.

“Is something the matter?”

“We're leaving.”

Abaddon blinked, surprised. “I thought you were staying through the end of the week, at least.”

“I did too, but Brother Zed told me today we're hitting the road at dawn.” He smiled, but it was the saddest smile Abaddon had ever seen. “We always seem to go just when I manage to make a friend. Sometimes I think he does it on purpose.”

Abaddon took a step backwards, his thoughts a jumble. He'd come here for Seth's soul, but now, hearing Seth call him a friend, he felt another stab of doubt. “Do you know where you're going?”

“No. Zed won't tell me.”

Abaddon frowned.
Sometimes I think he does it on purpose.
Abaddon didn't think Seth had been entirely serious, but he had to wonder if Seth had hit the nail right on the proverbial head. Zed clearly didn't trust Abaddon. Maybe they were moving just to escape him.

“It doesn't matter where you go. I'll find you. Zed can make you pack up and leave town, but there's no place on Earth he can hide you. Not from me.”

Seth laughed. Even now, Abaddon could tell he didn't believe. He obviously thought Abaddon was making a joke. But then he sobered, his laughter giving way to a pained expression that almost looked like grief. “Is there a place we can sit down?”

The request surprised Abaddon. “Sure.” He waved his fingers and produced a park bench out of the abyss. It'd disappear in a day or two, but it'd serve them just fine for now. “Here.” He took Seth's arm and guided him to the bench, ready this time for the wave of power that washed over him.

Seth frowned as he sat, his hands tracing the wooden slats beneath him. “Was this already here? Out in the middle of nowhere?”

“No. I made it appear.”

Seth chuckled again, shaking his head. “You're the strangest man I've ever met.”

Abaddon was about to say, “I'm not a man,” but Seth spoke again before he could.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course.”

But now, having decided to tell Abaddon about whatever weighed on his conscience, Seth hesitated. It took him a minute to gather his thoughts and his courage. Abaddon sat next to him on the bench and waited until he finally began to speak.

“You asked me if my blindness was punishment. And I told you it wasn't, but…that might not have been the truth.”

“Are you saying you lied?”

“No. It's just that when it comes to my blindness, sometimes I'm not sure what to believe.”

“I don't understand.”

“That's because I'm not explaining it well.” He took a deep breath and changed course. “When I was eighteen, I decided to leave the revival.”

“Oh? I was under the impression you loved it?”

Seth shrugged halfheartedly. “Most of the time, I do. I've had a good life here. I grew up in the revival. I was homeschooled by the Reverend's wife until she died, and then by the Reverend until he died. I've been surrounded by people who love me since the day I was found under that piano bench. I feel like I should be satisfied with what I've been given.”

“But you aren't?”

Seth sighed, slumping a bit. “When I was eighteen, I realized…” He stopped again, biting his lip. Abaddon suspected Seth was fighting to keep from crying in front of him. “I'm alone here. I have friends, but I'm alone. And I'll always be alone because we don't stay anywhere long enough for that to change.”

“But you have your brother. And that guy who plays the guitar. I see him talking to you all the time.”

“Jeremy.” Seth's voice was soft. “Yes, he's my friend. He has been since we were thirteen. But he has a wife. They all have wives and husbands. They care about me, but I'm not anybody's first priority. And sometimes, I think I'd really like to have somebody put me first.”

“That's normal.”

“Or maybe it's selfish.”

Abaddon considered for a moment, wondering how this fit with Seth's initial confession of wanting to leave the revival. “You don't think you can find a wife amongst your Rainbowites?”

Seth shook his head. “I don't want a wife. And what I do want isn't the type of person who comes to bible-thumping revivals in Kentucky or Tennessee.”

Abaddon hadn't expected that. “Are you telling me you're gay?”

Seth didn't reply, but the slow blush on his cheeks was answer enough.

“Are you worried it's a sin?”

Seth shook his head emphatically. “No. I know the conservatives think so, but that's not what I was taught. I was taught that love is never a sin, and that sex is only a sin if it's done outside the holy bonds of marriage.”

“So you wanted to go find your soul mate?”

Seth slumped again. “You make it sound so stupid.”

Abaddon frowned. That hadn't been his intent. “‘Two are better than one. If two lie together, they keep warm, but how can one keep warm alone?'”

Seth laughed. “And suddenly you're the one quoting the bible?”

Abaddon found himself smiling at the absurdity of it. “I only meant that wanting an intimate partner in this life is natural.”

Seth nodded, rubbing his palms on his jeans, seeming to gather courage from Abaddon's words. “We've never had TVs, or cell phones, or computers, but I've seen books and pictures. And when I was eighteen, I started making a list of places I wanted to go. I had a truck and my own trailer. I'd saved up a bit of money. I figured I didn't need much else. I was going to take my guitar and my violin, and just drive. Maybe go someplace where there were tourists, and play for pocket change. Just see what was out there, you know?”

Abaddon nodded, realizing too late that it did no good with Seth. “So what happened?”

“What happened was, I went blind. It was my nineteenth birthday, and when I woke up, I couldn't see. And later that day Zed joined our congregation, and he's been the one driving my truck ever since.” Seth looked down again, gripping his hands in his lap. “All I wanted was to see a few things—the Grand Canyon. Maybe Zion. I wanted to see the ocean.” He wiped hurriedly at his eyes. “You asked what sin I'd committed to deserve being struck blind, and the thing is, there wasn't one. And yet I feel as if I've been punished all the same. But all I wanted was to see more of the world.” He turned toward Abaddon, his face a mask of grief. “Is it wrong to want to witness the wonder of His creations with my own eyes?”

Abaddon almost wanted to cry for him. How could he tell Seth that despite his faith, God had probably had nothing whatsoever to do with him going blind? “There's nothing wrong with that at all. I think you were right the first time. This wasn't punishment. It was just really bad luck.”

Seth wasn't bothering to hide his tears anymore. “So now I'm blind, and I'm stuck here, and I'll never see any of those things. I have to depend on others for everything. And I know I shouldn't feel sorry for myself, but sometimes…” He took a deep, shaking breath. When he spoke again, his voice was barely a whisper. “Sometimes I get so angry.”

“That's a normal reaction.”

“But a sinful one. And given the timing, I have to wonder. Maybe wanting to leave my brother is a sin. Maybe wanting to find somebody to share my life and my faith and my bed with is a sin too. Maybe—”

“No, Seth. None of those things are marks against you. I can see why your blindness might make you question what you've believed your whole life. I can see how you might start to read more into it than there really is. But believe me, they aren't related. There is no grand explanation. Sometimes the universe just doesn't play fair.”

Seth sat there for a moment, staring blindly down at his lap, but Abaddon noticed that his eyes no longer brimmed with tears. “I can't decide if that makes me feel better or worse.”

“Well, I was aiming for ‘better', for what it's worth.” Although he wondered at that. It wasn't in a devil's nature to be kind. “Look, I imagine going blind when you did probably felt like a kick in the balls. But it has nothing to do with you wanting to find the most simple, natural thing known to the human heart. I promise you that.”

Seth sat a moment longer, pondering. Finally, he wiped his cheeks and gave Abaddon a weak smile. “Thank you.”

“There's no need to thank me.”

“There is, actually. Every other person I've tried to talk to about this has said the same stupid thing to me.” His voice was uncharacteristically thick with disdain. “‘God works in mysterious ways.'” He shook his head. “I know they mean well, but it doesn't help. But what you say makes me realize I'd rather believe in the unfairness of the universe than wonder about the unfairness of God.”

Abaddon smiled. “And that's exactly why your soul is so damnably perfect.”

They sat there for a minute longer. Seth's gratitude was like warm caramel on his wondrous soul, and Abaddon considered all the ways he might now try to bargain for it. Maybe offering Seth his sight again. Maybe offering to help him find a husband. Maybe simply taking him to the Grand Canyon to let him see its magnificence just once. It seemed so simple, and yet, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Seth had called him a friend, and Abaddon was reluctant to betray that simple trust.

In the end, he did nothing. And eventually, Seth sighed and stood. Abaddon followed suit.

“I should head back. Zed will be looking for me soon.”

“I understand. Can you find the way back on your own?”

“Yes. I seem to have a knack for getting through the woods. It's the one consolation God has seen fit to grant me.” He bit his lip, touching the scarf around his neck. “I'm not very good at saying goodbye.”

“But this isn't goodbye. I meant it when I said I'd find you. Have faith in that, if nothing else. Besides, I still owe you ice cream.”

“Yes, you do.” Seth didn't believe him though. Abaddon felt no comfort coming off the boy. Only an echoing sense of loneliness and a touch of despair. Seth smiled, but his heart wasn't in it. He stepped forward, reaching for Abaddon, and for just a moment, Abaddon thought Seth was going to kiss him—not in a romantic way, but the simple Kiss of Peace his people used. Abaddon's heart swelled at the thought, but Seth stopped short. Instead, he touched Abaddon's forearm with the soft fingers of his right hand. One tiny touch, and yet it made Abaddon's vision blur and his heart pound.

“Peace and love to you, Brother Abaddon. You deserve it.”

And now it was Abaddon's turn to feel like the universe had kicked him in the balls.

C
hapter Five

Sympathy for the Devil

I
t took Abaddon three days lingering in the abyss with his senses prowling through the southeastern United States to find Seth and the Rainbow Revival again, but find them he did, tucked into a primitive campground near the Talladega National Forest in Alabama.

He drifted for a while in the darkness, keeping his eye on the campground. It was midmorning, and preparation for the revival was only beginning. Seth had yet to leave his trailer, and Abaddon waited in the abyss. He had less than a week left on his probation, but at least Zed would relax his guard now. After all, he'd put more than three hundred miles and the entire state of Tennessee between them and Kentucky. As far as he knew, he'd left Abaddon in Harlan County.

Finally, Seth emerged. He wore jeans and a T-shirt, but with one of his usual knit scarfs around his neck, and Abaddon reeled out his soul sense, letting it play over Seth's skin. Ah, the boy tasted as tempting as ever, even when tinged with a sense of loss, and Abaddon's fingertips tingled with excitement. He wanted to get closer. He wanted to feel that surge of electricity that came whenever they touched. He wanted to…

To…

Consume Seth's soul?

Yes.

And no.

He frowned, uncomfortable with his own indecisiveness.

Seth started across the campground toward the covered picnic pavilion where several of the group members were eating breakfast. He made it only a few steps though before he stopped in his tracks. He turned slowly to face the woods where Abaddon lurked.

Could Seth sense him?

Abaddon leapt from the abyss, materializing deep enough in the forest that he wouldn't be seen by Zed or the other revivalists. Seth's brow wrinkled, his eyes seemingly focused on some distant point near the treetops.

He took a cautious step in Abaddon's direction.

Yes. Perfect. Just keep walking.

A second step, then a third.

“Seth, where are you going?” Thaddeus called from the picnic pavilion.

Seth hesitated, and Abaddon felt his doubt. But he also felt a tiny spark of hope, deep in Seth's heart.

Trust yourself
, he tried to say through whatever connection the two of them might share, desperate to somehow cast his lure through the many trees that stood between them and draw his prey closer.

“I'm just going for a walk. Don't worry.”

Hidden in the trees, Abaddon smiled. He couldn't have planned it better if he'd tried. Seth strayed past the edge of the campground, stepping into the shade of the forest, and Abaddon's pulse beat a bit faster.

Yes, I'm here. Keep walking.

There was no way Seth should have heard him, and yet his steps became more confident, his uncanny ability to navigate blind in the woods working to his advantage. Five yards into the forest. Ten. Twenty-five, the ground now a thick layer of dried needles, the air pungent with the smell of pine. After forty yards, the campground was lost in the trees, and Seth came to a stop only three or four yards from Abaddon. Birds chirped. Leaves whispered in a faint breeze. Other than that, the forest was absolutely silent. Seth looked nervous. Even from where he stood, Abaddon could see that his hands shook as he rubbed his palms on his jeans.

Abaddon waited, uncharacteristically nervous as well, uncertain how to begin now that he'd succeeded in getting Seth alone.

Seth cleared his throat, then finally asked, in a croaking, uncertain voice, “Hello? Who's there?”

It was pretty much now or never.

“It's me.”

Seth froze. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he managed, “Abaddon?”

“I thought you knew I was here. It was almost like you could see me.”

“I— I don't know. I feel like I did, and yet…” He backed up a step, waves of fear wafting off of him for the first time. “I felt so stupid, because I thought I heard you, but…” He shook his head, taking another step backward. “This is all wrong. You shouldn't be here. You—”

“I told you I'd find you.”

“Did you follow us?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then how—”

“I don't travel the same way you do. Your soul—”

“Oh my gosh!”

“It's like a beacon to me, Seth. It's brighter than any lighthouse. It took me a couple of days to spot it, but once I did, I only had to follow its light here.”

“Oh holy smoke!” Seth backed up again and ran into a tree, his strange not-quite sight in the woods failing him for the first time in Abaddon's presence. “Are you— Oh man, is this a joke, Abaddon? I want the truth now! Stop playing with me!”

“I told you the truth the first time I met you. I'm a devil.”

“You can't be.”

“But I am. Think about it. You knew I was here, didn't you? And how else could I have found you?”

“No.” Seth shook his head again. Then, louder, “No! You're lying to me!”

“I'm not lying.”

“But—”

“‘And the Lord said unto Satan, Whence comest thou?'”

Seth took a deep breath, then another, finding strength in what he knew and understood. “‘Then Satan answered the Lord, and said, From going to and fro in the Earth, and from walking up and down in it.'”

“Exactly.”

“Oh, holy cow.” Seth bent over, his hands on his knees, as if he might be sick. “I can't believe this is happening.”

“I never lied to you about what I was.”

“I figured it was a joke. Or maybe a metaphor. I don't know. Like you were warning me that you had unholy intentions.”

Abaddon almost laughed. “‘Unholy intentions'? What the hell does that mean?”

The tips of Seth's ears turned pink. “Nothing.” He ran his fingers through his hair and stood straight. “What do you want from me? Are you here to kill me?”

“No. Nothing like that.”

“Are you here to steal my soul?”

Abaddon hesitated, hating the twinge of guilt he felt. “Yes.”

“I won't ever give it to you. Especially not now.”

Abaddon feared that might be true. Part of him still hoped to change Seth's mind, but part of him rejoiced in the thought that Seth's soul might be out of reach. But how could he explain that to Seth when he barely even understood it himself? “Maybe I just wanted to see you.”

“But if you're a devil, you're probably lying to me. ‘Ye are of your father the devil, and the lusts of your father ye will do.'”

Oh, how right he was. And yet how wrong, at the same time. “I was once a man like you, you know.”

Seth's brow wrinkled in confusion. “You were?”

“I made a deal with the devil, just like you did the first time we met. The difference is, I lost.”

“What did you bargain for? What did you want that was worth your soul?”

“I wish I knew.” Abaddon tilted his head back, seeking the sky as if it could offer an explanation, but it was mostly lost in the dense trees. “I don't remember it. They take that all away when you cross over. But I know that's what happened.”

“So you came for my soul originally, but you've decided now you don't want it?”

He sounded almost amused. Abaddon felt that twinge of guilt again, along with the weight of his unreached quota. How could he explain that he longed for Seth's soul the way a starving man craved food, and yet for the first time ever, he had the strength to deny his own need? “I don't want to hurt you.”

One corner of Seth's mouth curved upward in a skeptical grin. “But you're a devil, right? I can't possibly trust you.”

“You can.” Abaddon felt the truth of the statement in some deep corner of his heart. “I couldn't say that about anybody else in the world, but I can't lie to you. You have some power over me I can't explain. You're brighter than the North Star, and the thought of extinguishing that…” He shook his head. “I want your soul, but I'm not sure I can do it. I'm not sure I could live with myself afterwards.” And yet he'd have to, for all of eternity. There was no reprieve from Hell.

Seth considered that, his head cocked sideways. Abaddon waited, his heart in his throat. Finally, Seth said, “Huh.”

After what had felt like a momentous admission, it was a surprisingly mundane response. “What does that mean?”

“I wish I could see you, so I could tell if you're laughing at me or not.”

Power surged in Abaddon's heart, pulsing through his veins, down his limbs. His fingertips tingled with it. “I've laughed at you before when you threw bible verses at me,” he confessed, his voice hoarse, “but not now. Not for this.” He took one slow step toward Seth. Then another.

Seth must have heard him approach, because he backed up, holding up his hands as if to ward Abaddon off. “What are you doing?”

“I won't hurt you.” He couldn't have, even if the rules allowed it. He was overwhelmed by the tenderness that filled him. There was something so wonderful about knowing that Seth knew him for what he really was, and yet seeing Seth still standing there, not asking for anything at all. Just waiting, as if having a little chat with a devil on a bright Sunday morning in the deep woods of Alabama was the most natural thing in the world.

Abaddon caught Seth's wrist to keep him still so he could move closer, reeling at the sensation that simple contact caused. Seth was trembling, and Abaddon stopped short, his fingertips an inch from Seth's cheek. “Are you ready?”

Seth's Adam's apple bobbed. When he spoke, his voice was tight. “For what?”

“To see.”

“Wh-what?” Tears brimmed in Seth's eyes. “You can do that?”

But Abaddon didn't bother to answer. He couldn't. He couldn't think beyond the eagerness that filled him, being so near Seth and having a gift he could present, like some kind of offering. His throat was tight, and for a minute, he could only stare at Seth's trusting face. It was all he could do to keep from kissing him, pulling him close, sliding his hand inside Seth's shirt and feeling the soft skin of his lower back as they tasted each other.

But he resisted the urge.

He laid his palm against Seth's cheeks instead, the tips of his first two fingers on Seth's temple.

And he let the power flow.

It took only a second, and then Seth gasped. He didn't move his head—he held perfectly still—but his eyes moved rapidly, scanning back and forth, seeking a point of focus. “Ohh…” More tears pooled in his eyes, and finally, his gaze settled on Abaddon's face. “You weren't lying. I really can see.”

It was hard to make his throat work. “Yes.”

“Will it last?”

He could have done it in exchange for a soul, but as a favor? That simply wasn't allowed. He was already bending the rules. “No. I'm sorry. That's beyond my power.”

“It's okay. This is enough. Just seeing the trees again is enough.”

Seth looked around again, taking in the forest and the thin patch of sky and the sunlight dappling the ground before returning to Abaddon. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks, coming to rest on Abaddon's hand, where it cradled Seth's cheek. They felt like ice against his flesh, and yet he longed to feel more of them. He had a sudden and irrational urge to taste them. He moved his thumbs to wipe at them as best he could without breaking contact with Seth's temples.

“Oh, Abaddon,” Seth said, his brow creasing with a frown. “Your eyes.” He reached up with one hand and laid his fingers against Abaddon's cheek.

That tiny bit of contact made Abaddon's blood roar in his ears. He felt the full strength of Seth's soul in that touch. The purity of his heart. The undeniable weight of concern.

Concern for a devil.

Abaddon's mouth watered. The soul hunger stabbed all the way to his core. The urge to consume the boy whole, to drag him through the abyss and drink the sheer power that lingered in his heart was overwhelming, and Abaddon pulled away quickly, stumbling backward. He found himself bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath just as Seth had done earlier.

“What happened?” Seth asked.

Abaddon shook his head, then realized Seth was blind again. He couldn't see the gesture. “Nothing.”

Seth took a cautious step toward him, his hand outstretched. Abaddon waited, practically holding his breath as Seth's fingers lit upon his shoulder. He felt the heat all the way through his shirt, the surge of temptation subsiding, but not fast enough.

“Will you come to the revival tonight?”

Abaddon laughed, the sound hoarse and grating in his throat. “Why?”

“‘I have trusted in thy mercy; my heart shall rejoice in thy salvation.'”

The words burned. For the first time in his memory, Abaddon felt tears behind his eyes. “No. It's too late for me. You shouldn't even be talking to me. You should be running away from me as fast as you can.”

“You said you wouldn't hurt me.”

“I said I didn't want to hurt you. It's not the same thing.”

Seth blinked, confused. “I don't understand.”

“I know.”

“You also said you wouldn't lie to me.”

“And I won't.”

“Then tell me what you mean.”

Abaddon stood, stretching his back, pushing his hair roughly off his forehead. “If I were a man—a decent man—I'd leave you alone. But I'm not a man. I'm something much worse, and I'm required to hunt down certain things. And you…” He shook his head, wondering at the strength of his longing. “You're the epitome of those things. You have the purest soul I've ever encountered.”

“That's something you can see?”

Abaddon nodded, even though the gesture was lost on Seth. “I can see it. I can smell it. I can even taste it, and goddamn it, Seth, it's delicious. It's like I'm an addict, and you're the perfect fucking drug. I want both you and your soul. I hunger for you.” He took a step closer despite himself, his voice becoming thick and hoarse. “In more ways than one.”