It was a shame that I was still feeling the impact of that fateful Tuesday night by Sunday morning, which was the day before my trip to Italy. My suitcase was ready and my excitement was building, but I still couldn't help the dark rage that was festering inside of me.

What my demonic half had done was foolish. And rash. And irreversible. I didn't want to believe that he'd managed to destroy the ten-year relationship I had built with the mafia within one night, but reality was harsh and fantasy was fragile. I knew exactly what the consequences of his actions were.

It wasn't like he'd just had a petty spat with someone important, which at times was unavoidable: strangely the toughest of men tended to have the easiest prides to wound. This altercation was different because he'd revealed himself to be a threat, an unknown, a problem.

Whilst it was unlikely that Victor would tell the rest of the men about my powers due to the lack of concrete proof, it didn't do anything to make matters better. If I was disliked by a mafia higher-up then that meant I would be disliked by the many under him, and possibly those above too. I had been so caught up in Robbins' growing reputation that I didn't worry enough about mine- and now look what had happened.

Clearly my demonic half needed a lesson or two on how to practise caution and subtlety, but he was usually better than this. There were good reasons for keeping power secret, and he knew that. The unknown was a demon's greatest weapon and a human's greatest fear, and if he'd stayed true to his purpose then he wouldn't have forgotten that.

But I knew deep down that my demonic half's exposure had very little to do with my anger, considering the fact that I didn't really care about any of my duties as one of Satan's warriors. In all honesty I was furious because of how he had handled Spence, and how he had lost him forever.

I didn't have many friends. Apart from Dev I didn't trust any other demons to be close to me. And as for humans, well...the majority of them probably inhabited the burning pits of my homeland I so pointedly avoid. That was what happened when you continued to age without so much as a wrinkle to add to your skin: youth and beauty were all well and good until all the other young and beautiful people ran out of the time.

My lack of ageing forced me to remove myself from friends after a certain amount of time anyway. I couldn't risk them finding out my secret so my connections were always fragile, hanging by tired ropes of memory whilst being dragged down by disappointment.

But he didn't care about that. Why should he? His world was only big enough for himself. He didn't have time for pitiful human emotions as beautiful as they were in their stripped back vulnerability. Demonic mentalities left little room for valuing things that were above the superficial: if it wasn't fast, shiny and pleasurable, it wasn't anything.

I was so sick of him right now. At the best of times I didn't want to have a evil counterpart, but when he did something like this it was horrible. I wanted nothing to do with him but was forced to become him when my shining rays of hope disappeared behind the unreachable hills. It was a sickening reminder of my predicament: I shared a body with that thing.

Robotically, I made my way out of bed to get ready for the day. I didn't want to feel my usual dash of melancholia this early on, but I couldn't get past it: unlike my demonic half, I didn't thrive on hating myself and the amount of negativity I was experiencing was wearying. But when you lived as many years as I had done, sadness was harder to shake off: on mornings like this the blackness of depression was more of a second skin than the smothering clothes it usually was.

I was in the process of getting my head through the neck of a t-shirt when I heard someone knock on my door. Frowning, I made my way to the entrance of the apartment, bitterly thinking to myself that ten in the morning wasn't an appropriate time for house guests.

I opened the door to find Dev on the other side.

"Oh...hey," I couldn't exactly act like I was expecting him to be here, although I knew there was a chance he'd come round and talk to me about the trip tomorrow.

"Morning, Roman."

Dev's eyes had turned a hazel colour when he was promoted to a demon fit for infiltration a few days ago. It had taken some getting used to on my part but I thought I had managed it yesterday, and I was proud of him- glad that one of the only demonic assistants who worked hard was getting the recognition he deserved.

The crimson nature of his earlier gaze earned him a vibrancy, however, that had been all but lost with his new appearance. But there was something about his current expression that made him look more sunken than ever, and I suddenly became nervous.

"What's up?"

There was a silence for a long moment, and I couldn't help but notice that Dev didn't want to speak, didn't want to talk, didn't want to converse. I'd never seen him so reluctant to divulge information.

"We've got a big problem, a really big problem...and now we already have less time than we thought."

I frowned at him deeply as I waited for him to elaborate. Why did he look so panicked? Why did he look so desolate? Tragedy outlined his expression like a brewing storm in the distance, and internally I quivered. What was going on?

There was another prolonged bout of silence, and the waiting became insufferable.

He cleared his throat and then began to speak in a raspy, weathered tone. "It's Robbins. She must've figured out how to use Il Libro Dei Demoni completely. She's...she's managed to destroy five demons at once."

I cursed loudly, gritting my teeth in fury. "Damn! That means we don't have much time at all!"

He started shaking his head. "Roman...that's not the worst part."

I raised my eyebrows in astonishment. "What is it then?"

"Lucifer," he almost croaked out. "Lucifer...he wants to see you. He's somehow realised that you have something to do with it all, and he wants me to take you down to see him. I think...I think he's onto us."

My insides began to turn to ice and I felt the coldness of fear that, like a fire, burned and consumed all that was within until it found a shred of hope to dowse its flames. But there was no hope. Only darkness. The never ending darkness.

"Does he...does he know about...about the book?"

"I don't know!" Dev lashed out in his panic. "They didn't say! They just asked for us to see him when they told me about the deaths...and that was it! I don't know what he knows!"

I took in a few deep breaths. I couldn't help the feeling of terror that was rattling through my bones: whenever Satan was involved the line between life and death suddenly became very blurry.

I gave Dev one, lasting look that said all the words I needed to say, because I knew there was a chance we might not see each other alive again, and I was terrible at goodbyes.

"I guess we better go then."