Chapter Text
The full moon hung heavy in the sky.
Alone in an abandoned cabin near the town’s lake, buried deep in the woods, a man knelt on the wooden floor to finish drawing a sigil in chalk. He groaned at the ache in his knees but paid it little attention; his eyes were entirely focused on the final remaining piece that would supposedly activate the summoning spell.
A slice of cake was a weird fucking way to summon a demon if you asked Blitzø, but what did he know.
All Blitzø knew was that he hungered for revenge, and absurdly enough, this seemed like the most feasible way of getting it. He didn’t have money, he was shit out of luck, and what few connections he’d once had up his sleeve had already been burned through. If he really wanted to take out his asshole of a father without getting caught, he’d have to use a more… unorthodox method.
Taking a deep breath, Blitzø placed the plate in the center of the sigil that spelled out Stolas around its intricate loops and curves. The name alone sounded pretentious, and apparently this Stolas was a prince, of all things. If he were honest, Blitzø was terrified at the idea of this whole thing actually working. Still, he tried to maintain his composure, if only to have the brain capacity to deal with what would likely be the demon equivalent of a high society rich prick.
That, or the thing would simply eat him alive.
Before Blitzø could continue overthinking, a strange prickling sensation gave way in the cabin, followed by the sight of a glimmering portal literally ripping apart the space in front of him. Or at least he assumed it was a portal, but his puny mortal mind could barely even make sense of what he was seeing.
A tall — extremely tall, holy fuck — figure made its way out of the portal, stepping through one long leg after the other. It had a white heart-shaped face set in deep blue-grey fathers, legs and arms going black at the tips as if its body could barely contain the infernal energy that thrummed from within.
Stolas, Prince of the Ars Goetia, took in the human specimen before him in return. Deep brown eyes partially hidden by lengthy hair, extensively scarred but no less gorgeous bronze skin, a shorter stature but delectably toned body…
“Why hello there,” Stolas purred as he bowed. “To what do I owe the pleasure for such a dashing fellow?”
Blitzø stood there in awe, gulping at the combination of fear and attraction that rippled down his spine at that voice. Oh, he was so fucked.
But instead of showing respect to this otherworldly being like he imagined he was supposed to, the first thing he blurted out was, “What the fuck is a demon doing with a slutty little romper in his closet?”
He winced, nails digging into his palms and heart stuttering at his slip-up. Well, at least death by hot owl bitch wasn’t the worst way to go.
Much to his surprise, however, the demon let out a trilling little giggle, mirth clear on his face despite the lack of pupils. “You sure know how to charm a man,” he said. “What shall I call you, dear?”
Face flushing even more than before, Blitzø kept his gaze on those mesmerizing eyes as he slowly let his breathing return to normal. “Blitzø, my name is Blitzø. The O is silent.” It was slightly humiliating just how quickly he scrambled to answer. “Um, your highness,” he tacked on belatedly, not wanting to test his limits again. He did his best to fix his posture, brushing some hair out of his face and puffing his chest out in mock confidence.
“Oh, enough with the silly pleasantries,” the demon replied, waving a hand in dismissal. “You may call me Stolas.”
Stolas moved forward, bringing with him a myriad of scents. Blitzø was no expert on fragrances, but it definitely smelled like the kind of shit you’d find in the woods. It smelled familiar. The thought that a real life demon could fit in with a piece of shit like him out here in bumfuck nowhere made him feel a little lightheaded.
Rather than reaching forward and physically ripping out Blitzø’s heart like he may have been fantasizing about, the owl bent over to retrieve his treat from the summoning circle. “How delightful! Did you choose this cake on purpose? It’s quite fitting, though I don’t eat squirrels quite as often as Earth owls do. I prefer rats, myself.”
“Yep, sure did,” Blitzø answered blankly. He’d picked the cheapest single-layer sheet cake from the grocery store clearance rack, and it just so happened to have a stupid little nature walk design iced onto it. He sure as shit wasn’t going to admit that, though.
What was he supposed to do with a lanky humanoid owl eating cake in his abandoned-cabin-turned-home? When was the right time to bring up the whole revenge thing? He may have found that dusty old book, but there was no manual for the part after the summoning.
“So, uh, Stolas,” Blitzø started, watching while said demon found a ledge to sit on. He looked ridiculous, long legs bent all the way up in front of him, yet he still crossed them all proper-like. “I did bring you here for a reason.”
“Of course, darling. But there’s no rush! It’s not often that I get summoned, so I’d like to bask in the Earthen air for a while, if you’re amenable.”
“If I’m fucking amen— yeah, sure, whatever that means. As long as you’ll help me at some point you can do whatever gets your dick hard, hell if I care.”
That garnered a squawk, Stolas’ feathers ruffling up all big as he choked on the piece of cake he’d just taken into his beak.
Now there was a reaction. Blitzø grinned; he could work with that.
Meandering over, deliberately coy, he placed a hand at the back of that soft feathery head under the disguise of a soothing gesture. A chill worked its way through the bird at the touch, and Blitzø was close enough to hear his breath hitch. It was a heady feeling, to have this effect on some otherworldly being that could probably snap his neck with the flick of a wrist.
Blitzø had never pegged himself as a monsterfucker but, well, he’d tried weirder shit.
His hand was knocked away by the sudden movement of Stolas rising, fork clattering to the floor in his hurry. Those white face feathers had a gorgeous flush showing through them as he adjusted his clothing, thighs shifting against each other.
“I—I just need some fresh air,” he stammered. “I’ll be back momentarily!”
With the cabin’s back door shut closed behind his retreating form, Blitzø was left alone to process everything that happened in those short few moments.
He swooped on over to his tatty mattress in the far corner of the open space and plopped down to sit at the edge, head in his hands.
Grimacing at the headache that was quickly forming, he ran a hand through his hair and let out a weary sigh. He should really cut his hair soon, but he liked when it reached his shoulders; it was just a bitch to take care of out here. Having to bike for ages just to get to the rest of civilization — if a small strip of shitty, rundown shops even counted as civilization — was a pain in the ass when he needed fresh groceries or body care shit, but it was worth it to remain off the map.
It was why he tried his best to stick to nonperishables that he could stock up on and had even learned how to grow his own vegetables, how to hunt and take care of himself. He definitely wasn’t perfect at any of it, especially not at first, but there was nobody fucking else who was going to help him.
Wasn’t there something else he was supposed to be thinking about…?
Right, the demonic owl that was now probably jacking off outside.
Blitzø realized he didn’t know what the guy would demand in return for completing his request. For some stupid reason he had gone into this assuming the cake was enough, but this was a demon for fuck’s sake — of course he’d want more. Well, Blitzø didn’t know if he still had a soul, but Stolas was free to take it if that’s what he wanted. At least then it would be worth something.
★⛧★
“Oh my stars, what is happening,” Stolas muttered under his breath. He stood outside the cabin, leaning against the door with a hand to his racing heart.
He’d read about this feeling, had tried to imitate it on his own, but his foolish mimicry paled in comparison to the real thing. And it had only been a comforting gesture, not even meant to illicit such a response! Oh, he was so daft.
Seeking to distract himself and calm down enough to return to that fine gentleman, Stolas took a moment to look around at his surroundings properly now. The cabin was nestled among acres and acres of trees as far as the eye could see, and under the dazzling moonlight he could spot fireflies flitting about over the nearby lake. He bet the area was populated by dragonflies during the day, waterhole that it was.
The variety of Earth flora had Stolas enthralled within seconds. Even with his preternatural eyes it was a tad too dark to do any proper observational research, but he couldn’t help his curiosity as he made his way down the steps of the small porch and over to the closest cluster of shrubbery. Crouching down, he reached a hand out to feel the leaves, mentally taking note of any differences in texture to those of hellplants.
He had already been disciplined for wasting time on silly interests in the past, but his father had grown tired of berating him once it was made clear just how long it would take to produce a precautionary heir. Bedding his wife was certainly not like it sounded in his novels, though to be fair his novels were often tailored to a more… peculiar taste. It also probably didn’t help that Stella had a tendency to shout and throw things before ever entertaining the simplicity of talking things out.
In an attempt to make up for his failings in bed, Stolas had thrown himself into his other duties, staying on top of everything to a remarkable degree. His father couldn’t very well complain about that, even if his wife could.
Nonetheless, Stolas greatly enjoyed spending his free time in the palace gardens. Tending to his plants felt like taking care of children in its own right, and he had always been fascinated by their practical uses. But there was something about the unruliness of plants in their natural habitat, without the intervention of demonkind — or humankind, in this case — that drew him in like nothing else.
Perhaps he yearned to share their freedom.
★⛧★
Stolas threw open the door with gusto, causing Blitzø to pause the pacing that he had taken up. It was probably for the best; any more pacing and he’d literally wear a hole into the floor with how old that shit was.
The bird seemed to have shrunk himself down slightly so that he didn’t have to hunch over in the cabin anymore. Personally Blitzø would want to climb him like a tree either way, but he guessed it was more comfortable to exist that way when you were a giant fucking owl demon.
“There are so many plants around here!” he said, apropos of nothing.
Blitzø just looked at him. “I mean, yeah, we’re kind of in the middle of a forest.”
“But the differences and similarities to hellplants are so fascinating! The ferns out there were much softer, though I do wonder if certain earthplants have their own assortment of spiky defenses…”
Stolas prattled on and on about his ferns and flowers, and all Blitzø could do was take in how good excitement looked on him. Who knew a demon could be such a nerd? He didn’t know how to feel about finding it endearing, but the genuine joy Stolas seemed to pull from the smallest things had lit a fire within Blitzø.
Maybe he could learn a thing or two.
Absentmindedly going over to towel at one of the dishes he had left out to dry before all of this, Blitzø kept his eyes on Stolas’ big, dramatic gestures.
Out of nowhere, though, the owl paused at his movements and interrupted himself with, “Oh, I do apologize. I know I can be a bit… much.”
The way he shrunk in on himself made Blitzø want to maim someone. “Who the fuck told you that?” he asked through clenched teeth, suddenly pissed.
“No one,” Stolas said, too rushed to be true. “Just a silly habit I can’t seem to shake, going on about dull subjects when in the presence of company.” He gave a half-hearted laugh, the avoidance of eye contact noticeable even with those voids for eyes.
Blitzø took a breath to stay calm and then stared the bird down until he was sure he had his full, undivided attention. “Fuck anyone who says you’re too much. They’re wrong, okay? My da— people have said the same shit about me, but it’s not our fucking fault what we’re like, right?”
He got a tentative nod in reply, and soon enough Stolas was starting his spiel back up again.
Blitzø wasn’t a good person, not by any kind of standards that anyone could possibly set, and he blamed himself for a whole lot of shit. But he took it personally when someone else was fed bullshit about being too much or not enough or both all at once, because who the fuck had the right to decide that? All Stolas had done was ramble about plants and that was enough for someone to tell him off? Fuck that noise.
They talked for damn near four hours, though Blitzø couldn’t tell anyone a thing about how they’d managed that. Horse facts, star shit, childhood dreams… Blitzø didn’t go into detail on any of the shittier parts of his life, but he suspected that Stolas avoided his own landmines in the same way.
He’d learned that Stolas had a decent sense of humor, too, if the way the demon laughed at his crude remarks was anything to go by. It was… oddly easy to shoot the shit with him. Make no mistake, the fact that he was obligated to be here for the summoning had never left the back his mind, but the conversation didn’t feel forced. And Stolas seemed to relax more and more as the minutes ticked by, less of that weird, self-conscious scrounging for the right thing to say and more of simply letting himself be free with his words. For an uptight royal, he sure had a wide vocabulary of swears and a head full of insane thoughts.
He was alright, Blitzø decided. But he was not getting attached, fuck you very much.
★⛧★
After a natural lapse in their chatting, Stolas’ eyes must have drifted to the window as he gasped in surprise.
“Oh lords, it’s twilight!” he exclaimed.
“The— the fucking sparkly vampires? Where?”
“No, dear,” Stolas chuckled. “The time of day just before sunrise, where the sky is lit despite the sun still hiding away.” His grin faded ever so minutely before he took a deep breath. “I suppose we should get down to business, as one would say. What did you wish to ask of me with this summoning?”
Blitzø tensed a little at the question; he didn’t know whether it was due to the nature of the request that he had to find the balls to spit out, or the fact that it meant his time with the demon would come to an end soon. He didn’t want to know.
His guts were churning.
“I— fuck,” he said. Great start, shithead. “I need you to kill my greedy bastard of a father. I’ve tried before, but it landed me in prison and I can’t fucking go back there. Just— just do whatever you need to, okay? I’ll do anything you want, I promise, I—“
“Blitzø,” Stolas cut in with a gentle smile, a hand reaching out to rest on his arm. “I can do it.”
The man’s shoulders sagged in relief at the easy acceptance. He barked out a frenzied laugh, shaking his head at himself. “I keep forgetting you’re from fucking Hell. Of course you’d have no issue with murder.”
The grip on Blitzø’s arm tightened as Stolas frowned. “I do have standards, darling. It’s just that I know a thing or two about having a dreadful excuse of a father.”
★⛧★
Apparently all Stolas needed was Cash’s location. It seemed too good to be true, given how stressed Blitzø had been over the possibility of needing an object his father had owned or some shit. Working with a demon was way different than in the movies, or maybe it was just this one.
None of the movie demons were hot like Stolas, either, to be fair.
Cracking his freaky bird neck, Stolas chittered to himself in preparation as he internalized the information on Cash’s whereabouts so he could cast the portal accurately.
“Now, would you prefer your father’s death to be quick and easy, or do you want to give him a bit of fright before his demise?” the owl asked with a wicked sense of mischief, beak seeming sharper than ever as he spoke.
A full-body shiver ran through Blitzø. Was it against demon law to fuck the demon you were making a deal with? He should’ve looked that shit up beforehand.
“Scare the shit out of him, Stols. The fucker deserves it, and I want to watch.”
Tiny white pupils appeared in those glowing red eyes at the response, followed by his lids growing heavy and that devilish grin returning, just as piercing as his gaze.
“Can do,” he said. “Well then! On to the job…”
With the simple spread of Stolas’ hands, another portal opened directly to a place that Blitzø had never wanted to see again. He’d been back a couple times since getting kicked out — once to plot out his original attempt on his father’s life, and again to set the fire that was supposed to kill him — but it still made him instinctively cringe away.
The charred lands of his hometown where the circus had once settled looked even more dismal than before. Debris from old tents and props still remained, no one deeming the area important enough to do anything with it. Apart from scattered patches of dried-out grass across the flat, sandy ground, the only living thing in sight was a cluster of yarrow.
Blitzø had planted it back when his mama first passed from illness; it was honestly a wonder that it was still thriving with no one left to take care of it. Maybe his tears from that day had carried enough remorse to keep it going in perpetuum. It was such a small gesture and would never, ever fucking compare to his mama’s life, but she deserved something to be remembered by. Cash hadn’t even bothered paying for a gravestone or proper burial — he’d had her cheaply cremated and then sold the fucking ashes to some morbid freak for the money.
What his mother had ever seen in the man, he’d never know.
Stolas freed Blitzø from his recycled thoughts by offering a hand back through the portal towards him. Doing his best to mentally prepare himself, Blitzø took the leap.
The sun was scorching hot over the vast open land, and he could tell he’d be sweating all the way down to his balls in no time. Sure was fucking fitting to face his father in that state, the same way he used to sweat in fear at what punishments were in store for his mistakes. He’d outgrown that fear by his late teenage years and had built up a cold wall of stone lined with barbed wire in its place, but being back here always made him feel like a kid again.
To their right was the small, dilapidated building that Blitzø knew his father had been living out of in recent years. It was once used as a combination of janitorial storage space and the office for their ticket booth, where he himself had worked on and off after failing to enthuse with his circus act. Honestly, it was one of the better odd jobs Cash had made him do. Certainly better than being whored out.
He marched towards the structure, dragging Stolas along with their hands still held tight.
“Hey, dickhead!” Blitzø shouted, finally letting go to cup his hands around his mouth instead. “Get your shitstained ass out here!”
Movement could be seen from the dirty window where a figure looked through the shades. The wait felt eternal for Cash to make his way out of the building, taking his time as if he had any ground left to stand on.
Wrinkles of a life spent grimacing were etched into his tanned face, framed by a scraggly goatee and heavily balding head. The patched-up clothing on his body did nothing to hide the grime that time with no running water had built up, and he had more than the beginnings of a hunchback.
Blitzø liked to think he got his looks from his mama, but he knew that plenty of Cash’s poison had seeped into his body anyway, eroding away at the edges to expose his true core — nothing but tar and soot, destructive and defective.
His father’s presence had always felt so powerful and threatening, but from where Blitzø stood now, he was just a frail, old man who would live out the last few minutes of his worthless little life in misery like he deserved.
He gave Blitzø a withering stare nonetheless.
“What, too chickenshit to have another go at me?” Cash taunted, his wide nose flaring. “Come to just talk it out so you don’t end up back in the slammer where you belong?”
“You should be the one rotting in prison, asshole,” Blitzø said, voice gravelly. “But I don’t give a fuck about letting you live to stew in your regret, because you don’t have enough of a heart to even feel regret. So I’m gonna let my birdie here fuck you up instead, and if he sees you in Hell later on, well… better sleep with one eye open, bitch.”
Finally seeming to notice the looming figure of Stolas behind him, Cash choked on whatever he was about to respond with and staggered back, arms uselessly going out to the sides for balance. Blitzø felt physically ill at the complicated emotions roiling deep inside his body, yet he couldn’t help but take joy in the sight. What sweet fucking karma to see him scared and helpless for once.
“Watch closely, darling,” Stolas said as he stepped ahead.
The demon’s body blurred black at the edges like his darkened limbs were finally letting the full scope of his power escape. Some areas were tinged red like fresh blood, never fully staying still, a constant flame of ruffling feathers fueled by an energy that Blitzø had no hopes of comprehending.
Soon he grew in size to become a great hulking beast, letting out a caw that under any other circumstances probably would’ve been funny; but here and now, Blitzø watching him descend on Cash in valiant fury, the thousands of screams that came with it were only awe-inspiring and terrifying.
“What the hell is that fucking—“ Cash shrieked. “Blitzo, call this fucking thing off, boy!”
Blitzø just watched on in stony silence, arms crossed and brow furrowed as sweat dripped down his temple.
“C’mon, kid,” his father said, laughing half-hysterically. “Give your old man a break, huh? You know how tough it is to live like this? Busted my ass to give you a home and this is how you treat me? Ha! Bet if this fucking monster knew all you’ve done it’d turn on you in a heartbeat.”
It was beyond difficult to not give in to Cash’s jeers, and the mixture of truths and blatant lies were fucking with his head a little. The bastard knew what he was doing.
“You said something about a heartbeat?” Stolas asked in that screechy, spine-chilling voice of many.
Not giving him a chance to answer, he punched a fist through Cash’s mortal body like it was nothing and then ripped it back out.
In his large, distorted hand was a human heart, still beating in an attempt to keep up the facade of life. Before him, Cash’s eyes and mouth were as wide as the gaping hole in his chest, choking on nothing as he slowly fell to his knees like he was suspended in time.
Stolas sneered at the sight and clenched his talons to explode the little heart into smithereens, uncaring as bits of flesh spattered about him.
Blitzø was frozen, some strange amalgamation of gratification and attraction and horror filling him as the scene unfolded.
He got what he’d wanted, and Stolas delivering it as a big eldritch nightmare was a sight to behold, but a tiny part of him asked what he had just done.