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had enough time to play out, because it would have been the only fruit left untouched by death.
    And the best part of the plan was that there would be no direct contact with the waxy red fruit or the thick-headed human from either of us; Adam could pluck the offensive apple with his own dirty hands, thank you very much.
    There was only one problem: Naamah and Botis worked faster.
    We had the perfect safety net for their plan of temptation—a plan I was sure would fall through. Our success would have made our names renowned in Hell, but Adam succumbed so quickly to Naamah. Who knew that humans would be so easily sullied?
    Gus had warned us that our trap would be rendered unnecessary, but we didn’t listen. He divined an outcome, advised us to work with Naamah and Botis instead of planning on their failure. But Azael and I were new and cocky and we wanted to prove to Lucifer and every other demon who doubted us that we were stronger and smarter than they thought. It backfired, horribly. We should have listened to Gus.
    For centuries, we were mocked about our failure, and our ranks slowly slipped. We weren’t respected as demons and were assigned to fewer and fewer missions. It took us thousands of years for us to start to rebuild our reputation, but we’ve finally clawed our way back up to level 3 Powers. For awhile, we weren’t allowed on Earth in a physical form and were only allowed to haunt the dreams of humans. We could manipulate them while they slept, twist their dreams into nightmares. Then we were allowed possessions.
    In the late 1600s, we were allowed to visit Earth in our physical forms and tempt people into the shadows. We’ve only been killing and reaping since the early 1800s, and I really thought we would have risen in ranks again since then. But Hell never forgets.
    We were nearly level 2 , I remind myself bitterly.
    Since then, we’ve begrudgingly learned that what Gus says goes. He’s always right, annoyingly so, and it is in our best interest to follow his instructions to the letter. Although, the fact that he can discern the future does give him quite an unfair advantage. If we had only done what Gus had told us on this trip to Earth, we probably would have been promoted.
    Always listen to Gus. I press my cool palm to my head. How many times do you need to be given reasons to listen to Gus?

    ***

    “Azael, is it dark enough yet?” I ask, chipping away at the silence. My feet ache from all the walking we did today, and a longer walk to the edge of town in these boots seems unthinkable. I flex my fingers and feel the dried blood flake off. It’s impossibly hard to wash off blood. “There are barely any cars out anymore. I doubt anyone will notice us.”
    “Fine,” he says, sounding as tired as I feel. “But I swear, if we end up in some grainy video on the news again, it will be your turn to explain it to Gus.”
    “That was one time, and it was during a full moon! I promise they won’t be able to see our wings tonight. It’s overcast, and the roads are all but empty.”
    “Good enough for me,” he says, not needing much convincing. He unfurls his wings, stretching them out as wide as he can, and takes off, sending a wave of air crashing down on me. I watch as he flies away towards the dark cluster of trees that circle the ruins.
    I laugh to myself as my own wings open. The black feathers ruffle in the wind, whispering together softly like they are sharing secrets. I bend my knees and jump, letting the cool night’s air caress my face.
    There is nothing quite like the weightlessness of flight, the dizzying feeling of belonging to the sky. The dark expanse of the woods passes under me as I fly just above the treetops, like a pebble skimming a glassy lake. Small, glowing eyes stare back at me from under the leaves, shrinking into their branch as if my presence makes them nervous.
    The air fills my lungs, and I gulp it in greedily, even though I don’t need to. I pretend that I rely on it,