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Isaac had no idea how long he’d been asleep, and Abaddon wouldn’t tell him. Something about how human days had no meaning to an immortal being like himself.
The last thing he remembered was the shadow cast across his father’s face, eyes wide and horrified in a way Isaac had never seen before. He thought, perhaps, that doing all this beside a cliff was an horrible idea. But it hardly mattered now. His father was dead anyway.
The joint in his knee was nearly healed (which was very, very strange, probably Abaddon’s fault), but still, it was a relief. When they fell, he’d been convinced he would die there.
He remembered being terrified. Faintly. But he wasn’t afraid anymore.
He tried to move his leg, a vague attempt to stand, though it probably wasn’t the best idea. He even managed to stretch it before Abaddon started shouting at him.
“How are you doing that?!” the demon’s voice thundered off the cliff walls. “You shouldn’t have control over this body anymore!”
Isaac had no idea why that was a problem, or what Abaddon was ranting about, but he decided not to try moving again.
Eventually, the demon calmed down enough to start a proper conversation. That was just how Abaddon was. Always dramatic. It was the reason Isaac’s father had started to suspect something was wrong in the first place. The demon never knew how to stay calm.
“Why haven’t you left my body yet?” Isaac asked. His lips moved, but the sound came out soft, almost a whisper.
“Don’t assume I’m still in it by choice!”
Abaddon was visibly agitated. If he’d had a body of his own, he’d probably be stomping and flailing by now.
“My father mentioned something about that,” Isaac murmured, the memory hitting him like a splash of cold water. “He said he bound your spirit to my body.” He tilted his head, curious. “Why would he do that?”
Abaddon fell silent.
So Isaac had nothing else to do but stare at the cliff walls. It was boring, but better than looking at his father’s impaled body. By now, it had been lying there so long, rotting in the open air, that his face was no longer recognizable. It was hard to associate that decaying corpse tangled in the jagged rocks with the holy man he had once been.
Isaac wondered if he could take his bones.
“We should move,” Isaac told Abaddon. “See the sky? It’s going to rain soon. I don’t want to get sick.”
“Demons don’t get sick.”
“Well, I can,” Isaac pointed out. “And you happen to be in my body right now.”
Abaddon refused to continue the conversation, as he always did when he knew Isaac was right. It had been hard to tell at first, but now it was clear as day.
“Would you let me take control for a few minutes?” Isaac asked. “I know which way we have to go to get out of here. There’s a grove nearby, the trees are dense enough to keep us dry.”
Abaddon agreed, reluctantly.
It was strange. Isaac didn’t remember him being so… subdued. The Abaddon he knew would have taken it as a personal insult and launched into one of his endless monologues about being the Cobra King, the greatest of demons, and how dare you, mortal child.
But nearly dying at the hands of a one of those mere humans and being trapped in the body of a child had probably been a heavy blow to his pride. It would take him some time to recover.
That same day, Abaddon told him not to get too comfortable. that Hell would surely come for him, and he couldn’t guarantee that Isaac’s life would be spared in the process of freeing him from this body.
“Dying wasn’t exactly out of my plans when I decided to summon you,” Isaac replied simply. “People who deal with demons usually don’t value their lives all that much.”
At the time, he’d truly believed that would be the end. One of Abaddon’s friends would come tearing through his flesh, clawing at his ribs to free the demon inside. Maybe in a few weeks, or a few days, if Abaddon’s absence was as noticeable as he claimed.
It never happened.
They never had strict rules about who got control of the body. Usually, it depended on whether they needed the reckless demon who wasn’t afraid of heights, or the boy who had a child’s voice and some social skills.
Years would pass in which Isaac was nothing more than a passenger in his own life, watching from the back seat as months turned to years, years into decades, and decades into centuries.
He didn’t mind. He hadn’t lied back then, he’d been perfectly willing to give up his life the day he summoned Abaddon. Of all the possible outcomes, of all the tortures and gruesome deaths he could’ve imagined, this wasn’t even that bad.
He remembered being willing to give up his soul.
(It wasn’t as if his soul had ever been worth much anyway.)
Some days, his favorite days, Abaddon would climb them to the top of a tree or perch them on a fence, letting Isaac feel the cold wind on his face and watch the fireflies flicker at dusk.
Then there were the less pleasant parts. Like when one of the asylum doctors chained them in the attic, and Abaddon insisted it be him who bit through their wrist to tear it off.
Isaac had long grown used to pain. How could he not, after everything? Falling from trees, rolling down hills, getting hit (first by carriages, then by cars) bitten by rabid dogs. Once, Abaddon had gotten so angry that he’d taken revenge by stabbing their stomach until their entrails spilled out.
That didn’t mean Isaac had no inhibitions left. He really didn’t want to bite his own hand off, thank you very much.
But he also knew Abaddon was stubborn enough to let them be lobotomized again if he didn’t get his way, and being lobotomized was, at best, his fifth least favorite thing.
A man found them in the woods.
Isaac couldn’t recall exactly what they’d been doing. If he had to guess, probably sorting their bone collection or gathering new ones. Maybe hunting squirrels. But if that had been the case, the man would have noticed right away that something was deeply wrong with them.
It was much harder to get rid of someone once you’d already let them inside your home.
Isaac mostly let Abaddon talk to him. They were a package deal, after all, and if he couldn’t handle Abaddon, it was best to find out early.
“So his name’s Nathan Freeling, huh?” Isaac muttered, closing his fist around one of the vents. “Funny you haven’t scared him off yet, Abby.”
“Don’t call me that!” Abaddon snapped, his hand tightening until his knuckles turned white.
Isaac stifled a laugh. Laughing at Abaddon was never a good idea, there was always the risk he’d take it as a challenge and do something stupid. Like that time he’d kept them underwater for two whole weeks.
But come on, Isaac was the victim here, wasn’t he? The demon had possessed him, killed his father, and done all those horrible things normal people are supposed to care about. The least he deserved was the occasional laugh.
“I’m tired of dealing with the human,” Abaddon finally said, in that tone that meant he was one sentence away from a full tantrum.
Isaac rolled his eyes.
“If you want, I can take over for the lessons on how to use cutlery. Shouldn’t be too hard, considering I actually know how to use it.”
Abaddon gave a half-snarl but agreed.
“Abaddon?” Nathan Freeling asked, studying Isaac up and down.
Isaac tilted his head, curious. He hadn’t expected the man to notice the change so quickly. Others usually figured it out because the difference was striking, the boy who smiled while lying to the police wasn’t the same one who leapt onto a car hood with a dead rat between his teeth.
He supposed their posture and body language must have been different too. But after so long sharing a body, he hadn’t thought it would still matter.
Maybe it was just that Abaddon would never sit properly in a chair unless forced to.
“It’s not him this time,” Isaac said.
Nathan jerked back in his seat, startled.
It was good to know his voice still had an impact.
Isaac let out a small laugh.
“I’m Isaac, the boy possessed by Abaddon.” He extended his hand the way his father had once taught him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The man took his hand after a hesitant pause.
“I... I’m pleased to meet you too.”
“Well, considering you practically adopted Abaddon, I think we can skip the part where you ask if I want an exorcism and I have to convince you I don’t. Not sure what comes next, though. I guess we could pretend I don’t know how to use cutlery and you could teach me. Look, I can even do this!”
Isaac picked up a fork and began trying to use it as a comb.
That seemed to snap Nathan out of his awkward silence, plus, it made him laugh.
All things considered, Nathan was a good father.
And like all good fathers, he died far too soon.
They found him in the armchair in his office, that silly movie he loved looping endlessly, the blue light of the screen casting flickering shadows across his face. If not for the pill bottle Abaddon found beneath the table, Isaac might’ve believed he’d actually choked on a grape.
“It doesn’t matter,” Abaddon said, which was what he always said when something mattered too much. “He was just a blip.”
Isaac hummed softly, wondering how many months they’d spend curled up in some dark hole before Abaddon regained the will to live.
“He’ll come back,” Isaac offered kindly. “They always do. He’ll be with us for eternity.”
Maybe that was a good thing, in a way.
Of course, he didn’t dare say that aloud. Over the years, he’d learned to recognize when Abaddon’s mind was particularly fragile, when he talked about Hell, or insisted that somehow, someday, they would come for him. And now, when it came to Nathan.
Isaac had been lucky in that sense. He’d always made sure never to get too attached or better yet, to mourn the dead long before their deaths. It made things easier.
Nathan’s sister inherited the hotel, which was fortunate, it meant they wouldn’t have to move again so soon.
Sometimes, looking back on his life, Isaac wondered how it had all ended up this way.
It felt like only yesterday he’d been playing in his father’s garden while the other children avoided him. He’d never really minded. He liked watching the sky, collecting herbs, climbing trees, and observing small animals.
Witch. They’d whisper in the village. Of course, no one dared say it aloud, insulting him was insulting his father. To suggest that the priest’s son was messing with things that could condemn him to Hell...
Isaac never cared much about burning in Hell. Truth be told, he never thought there was any other place out there. Nothing better. Not for him, anyway.
He also remembered the day he met Abaddon. The image of those claws scraping marks into a blackened tree trunk had stayed with him ever since, even if the demon’s face had grown blurry over the centuries. He hadn’t seen it for a long time, and hadn’t thought it important enough to remember clearly.
He had simply approached and taken his hand.
Maybe, somewhere deep down, he had been tired of always playing alone.
“Will you be my friend?” he’d asked.
And the demon had nodded. Unlike everyone else, Isaac knew he would keep his word.
Life with the Freelings was certainly different from life without them. Lately, Isaac had even felt inclined to spend more time in his body, talking to people, exploring the world. He hadn’t realized when he’d stopped caring about things.
That didn’t make being a passive observer of Abaddon’s chaos any less amusing.
Today, for instance, the demon had destroyed the lobby.
It had been entertaining for the first five hours, but even Isaac had started to feel sorry for how stressed Katherine looked. He could’ve sworn he saw a flash of tears when she glanced at the giant crack in her car window caused by Abaddon’s scream.
Well, no harm in intervening, right?
“You know this isn’t going to work,” he sighed.
Katherine’s head whipped around so fast Isaac feared for her neck. Her eyes widened, and her hand tightened on the edge of the seat.
“So Nathan wasn’t joking after all,” she murmured, staring at Isaac as if he were the ghost. “I thought you were dead.”
I thought you were dead. Not the nicest thing to say, but fair enough. He’d often wondered the same himself. That’s what happened when you’d been possessed by a demon for so long.
“None of this is going to help,” Isaac said as gently as he could. “Do you have any idea how many times people have tried to stop Abaddon? They’ve thrown us into the lake, burned us alive, chained us with silver to my father’s grave, the list goes on…”
He’d expected Katherine to ask for advice on preventing Abaddon’s usual disasters. What he didn’t expect was the horrified look she gave him instead.
“They did all that to you!?”
Isaac shrugged. He supposed he shouldn’t have said that. People tended to be overly sensitive about the idea of a possessed child and his demon being treated like… well, a possessed child and his demon.
“You get used to it,” he said finally, since there wasn’t much else to say that wouldn’t make it worse.
At that moment, Isaac decided that if Katherine couldn’t stop making that face and have a normal conversation, it would be better to let Abaddon take over again.
By the end of the day, when things had more or less settled down (as much as they ever did), Katherine asked to speak with him.
“How can you be okay with all this?”
“As I said, you get used to it,” Isaac repeated. “Abaddon and I have been together for so long I’m not even sure who I am without him. And honestly, I don’t bother trying to find out. At this point, an exorcism would probably kill me. My body was never meant to live this long.”
Katherine’s eyes shifted to the side, her face conflicted as she searched for the right words.
“In his story, Abaddon told me how you two ended up like this,” she began, clearly struggling not to choke on her words.
Over the years, Isaac had learned that his past was a little too dark for most people. Abaddon’s version of it probably didn’t help either.
“I just wanted to say that if you ever need to talk about it...”
Isaac smiled. No, he didn’t need to talk about it. He was as at peace with what had happened as anyone could be. But he could still appreciate the kindness.
“Thank you, Katherine.”
“What was your father like?”
“My father?” Isaac asked, squinting slightly.
Esther nodded. She’d been circling the same question all morning.
“Yes. You said he tried to exorcise you, and Abaddon threw him off a cliff.”
“He didn’t just try to exorcise me, he tried to destroy Abaddon. So, I wouldn’t say I miss him.”
“Why?” Esther pressed, despite herself. “Abaddon took your body.”
And Isaac understood her. He really did. From her point of view, the whole thing must have seemed insane. But it had been a long time since Isaac had admitted (even to himself) that the demon had been, and in some ways still was, his only friend in the world. He must have been mad for that, surely, but he had never been good at lying, especially not about the things that mattered.
“I was bored,” was all he said. And only when he heard the words out loud did he realize how banal they sounded. “I wanted to see a demon. A real one. I wanted to know if they were as terrifying as my father claimed. And then I wanted it to mean something, so I asked Abaddon to play with me. I thought that was a fair price for my soul.” Isaac shrugged. “Anyway, if I had to choose between my father and Abaddon, I’d choose Abaddon.”
Esther recoiled slightly, as if she hadn’t expected him to say it so casually.
“As for my father… well,” Isaac began again, “maybe it’s presumptuous, surely ungrateful, but I’ve always had this feeling that, deep down, I deserved better than a man who would pray for my soul in every language except my own.” It was the best way he could put it. “I don’t even remember his name anymore, to be honest. You could probably find it in some old record. When a priest dies that dramatically, people tend to write about it.”
Isaac had never bothered to search for it. The past only mattered to the dead, after all. And Isaac was still very alive, even if some people doubted it.
“I…” Esther said softly, almost holding her breath. “I think I understand.”
“Why are you doing all this?” Isaac asked the fifth time they went back in time. “Wasn’t this what you wanted, your powers back?”
Abaddon didn’t answer, which was answer enough.
“You care about them, don’t you?” The words felt heavy on his tongue.
He never thought he’d see this day. Even after all the time they had spent together, Isaac had never believed Abaddon capable of caring for anyone, not in the way humans cared for one another, at least. He never seemed concerned about Isaac’s wellbeing.
But looking back now, he realized he couldn’t die. Not while Abaddon remained inside his body.
The Freelings, on the other hand…
“I never thought I’d have a family again.”