After clearing the floor of bedding, I settled with my back to the window. Atticus approached, hand outstretched. "Let's relocate," he suggested.

The thought had occurred to me in the past, but he had never complained so sticking with a neutral location seemed safest. "What do you have in mind?"

"We can head upstairs- I'll be good," he all but winked, a sly smile playing at his lips.

Nervousness tickled the back of my brain. I had been asking for his cooperation for so long I was feeling a little intimidated to finally move forward. Keeping him on task might prove difficult but I was willing to take that risk to get more out of him.

Taking his hand, he lifted me to my feet and pulled me forward in one smooth motion. He walked backwards, leading me up the stairs and I reminded myself of my goals to keep from literally getting swept away.

"Would you like to sit on the bed?" I asked glancing around to gauge our options. "I'll use your chair so we can still face each other."

"Switch with me," he said, shuffling me toward the mattress and pulling the desk chair out. He plopped down in it and regarded me as I positioned myself on the edge of the bed, folding my legs up into my lap.

We stared at each other for a moment before Atticus broke the silence. "Getting cold feet?" His question was more probing than a tease.

"Not at all. If anything, I'm too excited to start," I said, a genuine smile gracing my features. "But I'm ready now." I placed my hands outward, waiting for him to take them.

Scooching the chair forward, large hands filled mine and I felt our energies connect. I heard the demon take in an unsteady breath. "Slowly," he said, eyes drifting closer as he seemingly tried to relax.

I followed suit, and stillness enveloped us as our breathing synchronized. "Open yourself up to me," I said, my voice gentle and even. "Show me what you can't say."

The grip in mine flinched. There were apparently some things he still desired to keep from me. And I was okay with that, as long as I got answers about that damned feline. "It's okay," I said soothingly, "You don't have to show me everything- just what you've promised."

A moment passed, our souls tentatively reaching toward one another. I tried to keep my influence neutral but couldn't completely snuff out the love that traveled with it. Atticus sighed, his thumbs rubbing idly as I pushed, ever so slightly, towards him.

This was very different from the last time I had extended this far. I was nervous to continue but his reassuring touch gave me strength. "Let me know if it gets to be too much, okay?" He hummed in response, not letting up on his caresses. I swallowed down the anxiety plaguing me and pushed into him.

It was like plunging my hands into oil. A sharp breath reverberated as the gentle touch became a firm grip. His hold on me was crushing but it was better than pulling away. Exhaling, I pushed my consciousness forward into my reach. I think my subject said something then, but my hearing had become distorted.

Stepping in, I was bombarded with both the sensation of being pulled deeper and the feeling of being restrained. I immediately flexed against it but stopped when I heard a low voice echo through the depths towards me. Relaxing, I felt the restraints shift, giving me a modicum of freedom.

This was nothing like touching the soul of a human. An ordinary soul wasn't able to fight back like this, which was ideal given that an angel's influence was one of pure intent. Applying that to a volatile soul that had its own amount of control was tricky. I wasn't trying to be overwhelming, but it was a delicate balance to not get sucked in completely.

"Think about the cat," I requested, unsure at this point if I was still speaking out loud.

Trying to get my bearings was exhausting, being in a place that registered to my purity as hostile. Slicked from the dark substance coating my wandering fingers, I tried to wade towards the direction calling me. My movement was sluggish but eventually, I saw a flicker ahead of me.

Walking across the surface, the pitter-patter of paws approached me in the darkness; two yellow eyes, the only illumination. My breath caught as I tried to back away. My fear was irrational but deeply ingrained. "Who are you?" I questioned, hoping to stall the creature.

"You know exactly who I am," I heard in my head. Its voice was crackly, like hearing a radio station slightly out of tune.

The creature stopped a few feet from me and sat. My eyes strained, desperate to adjust in the dimness.

"And you know what I'm here for," the voice continued.

I shook my head. "No, I don't. Tell me," I insisted.

"It seems more appropriate to show you."

Suddenly, the cat leaped at me. Startled, I fell backward just as soft fur and sharp claws plunged into my chest. I felt my physical body fall back onto the bed, legs unfolding to drape off the edge. Atticus called to me but I was in too deep to respond.

As my soul was swallowed by the inky abyss that surrounded me. I drifted downward, descending slowly to drop out the other side. I fell out of the substance to land on a hard surface. Choking, I wiped at my eyes to clear away the dark fluid coating me to see an undulating ceiling of black overhead. I sat up and scanned around myself.

There was a faint red glow that gave me some sense of direction, highlighted by ghostly figures that wandered aimlessly or huddled into themselves. Some embraced one another, silently wailing. The ghosts were numerous, filling the space that seemed endless.

I swallowed hard, recognizing that these souls had been tortured and consumed. This was a place of unrest, a monument to the corruption and devastation Atticus had sown. An echo of the pain and suffering he had been so keen to force on me.

Getting up, I ambled through the masses. Though their forms were incorporeal, I could see the damage they had sustained, broken necks, gaping chest cavities, and twisted limbs, differentiating them as individuals.

Bill would not be here. I had taken that from him. A soul that sullied would have fit so appropriately. I shivered, not sure what I was meant to find. Even though it was hard to witness, I already knew the extent of Atticus' destruction.

As I meandered, I didn't shy away from taking in the scenes played out before me- mothers cradling children, torn bodies writhing and scraping against the ground for purchase, and hollow, stunned figures unable to accept their own injuries. It was sickening to watch but my kind was used to dealing with far worse. This was just another battlefield of the faithless.

A wrenching pain emitted from my guts as a small but powerful force ripped through flesh and muscle to squirm out of where my sternum ended. If the wound had been anything other than an illusion, organs would have spilled forth and eviscerated me.

I gagged and coughed, the sensation grotesque. Dropping to my knees, I watched as Death licked its paws nonchalantly. "What am I supposed to be seeing?"

My question, barely spoken, was interrupted as countless ghosts swarmed the furry feline, knocking into me in their determination. It bounded just out of reach drawing a mindless crowd like a macabre conga-line. I watched stunned as every single echo of a corpse strained to touch the nimble cat, falling over each other and themselves.

Tears welled in my eyes as realization struck. Death had a very good reason to be stalking Atticus. With all the souls he held, begging for the end, it would be like a siren's call. I sucked in a shaky breath and closed my eyes.

"Ash?"

I opened my eyes, my vision filling with the blue of Atticus' waiting gaze. He was sitting on the bed beside me. I sat up, needing to reacquaint with this body. Shaking my head, I ran my hands through my hair before turning to face the demon whose soul I had just rummaged around in. "I think I need a shower."

Blue darkened, Atticus' features turning grim as he interpreted my words.

"Come with me?" I asked, hopeful.

Bewilderment soon overtook the depressing gaze locked on mine as he stood, taking my hand to draw me in his wake. He turned the light on as we entered the bathroom but I turned it off again. Not concerned enough to fight me on it, he fidgeted with the shower settings.

I began to disrobe, neatly folding each garment to stack on the counter. Once satisfied with the water temperature, Atticus joined me, beating me to nakedness as he tossed his clothes carelessly to the floor.

He stepped into the stream and I followed, positioning myself so we shared the soothing heat. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, using my hands to smooth my hair. Refocusing my vision, I watched as Atticus reached up to run a set of long fingers through my soaking locks.

A shiver ran up my spine at his touch. These were hands with a lot of blood on them. I knew that. I already knew that. So why was I suddenly shaking?

Jaw tightening, the demon pulled me forward and leaned into me, cradling my head with one hand, the other on the small of my back.

"Do you understand now?" he asked, keeping the distance between our faces so he could read me.

Hot water pelted my back as we stood still, sharing breath in the steam. "It's never too late to repent."

Leaning forward, he placed a kiss on my forehead. "It's not that simple."

"There are other ways." Energy filled the void I had been wallowing in as I cupped his face. "I'm not giving up on you," I said, pulling him forward for a kiss. "I love you," I said, meeting his eyes again. "And I won't stop saying it."

Mouth agape, tired eyes searched me. "Please don't," He kissed me hungrily, "Don't ever stop telling me."

The sentiment turned carnal as our hands began to wander, noises of pleasure and approval echoing off the bathroom walls. Bodies slick, moved over each other as Atticus turned me around and bent me over, my hands finding purchase on the bath fittings.

He rubbed his length along my core before entering me, causing us to moan in unison. I quickly shifted onto my forearms as he moved within me, pushing me forward into the shower wall. "Fuck," he groaned, continuing to pump into me. Leaning forward, he reached around and cupped my breast, the support welcome as the other swung freely. He kissed my spine before righting himself, drawing his hand back slowly to play with my sex from the outside.

My muscles clenched around him and he grunted, slowing his thrusts. "You really do feel like heaven," he said, his voice humorous.

Coos exited me as my hips began to rotate with the seductions from nimble fingers. "Oh my God," I called as my arms went limp. Face against the tile, Atticus slammed into me a last precious few times before pulling back from me completely.

"I've been called worse," he said, pulling my body upright.

Spasms were still pulsing through my flesh as he pulled me into his arms and kissed me hard. Pulling my tongue into his mouth, he bit, drawing blood. I made a noise of surprise that evolved into a moan as he sucked causing the shockwaves that still resonated through my body to amplify. I almost lost my balance but his grip tightened, holding me to his sturdy form.

Face numb, I leaned back, breaking contact. My chest heaved with shaky breaths as I tried to find my footing. Atticus helped me steady myself, a proud smile plastered across his face as he reached around me to turn the shower off.

"I haven't actually showered," I said, gesturing to myself.

"Well, I did what I came to do." Moist lips gave me a chaste kiss before stepping out.

I sighed, turning the water back on to wash my hair and body. Still extremely sensitive, I was extra gentle as I refreshed myself. After a proper rinse, I turned the water back off but didn't move to exit the steamy chamber.

My mind was racing. There were some very complicated and more than potentially painful ways to try and help Atticus redeem himself. A normal person would not have such opportunities but this was a special case. And no matter the risks, my resolve was concrete.