Author’s note: This is a response of sorts to Lady Dreamwriter’s “Unwinding the Cycle.”

The demoness props her feet up on the flayed back of a damned soul, kneading the shredded skin and raw muscle with her toes until she molds a comfortable spot in the malleable flesh. “Thank you, sweetie,” she says to it, and is met with a keening moan of pain, the sweetest music the Abyss has to offer. Tapping a cigarette out of its pack, she places the papery stick between her dark, full lips and draws in a lungful of sweet smoke as the tip spontaneously ignites.

“You shouldn't smoke, you know,” a familiar voice behind her says. The demoness winces, the sound of silver bells sending an electric shock through her body.

Without turning, she says, “We're immortal, darling. I'm not going to get cancer.”

“It's still a filthy habit.”

“I know. I invented it.” The demoness draws in another toke and laughs a deep, throaty laugh. “Want one? Pull up a soul.”

“Never.”

“Then stand. I don't care.” She stares straight ahead, sensing movement, the swish of white robes. The angel is beside her; she can feel the burning smoothness of celestial light on her skin. “So, what's a nice emissary of the Goddess doing down here? Business trip?” She lowers her voice. “Or could it be…pleasure?”

The angel seems to hesitate. “I don’t know.” She perches on a rock, arranging her robes around her. Small fires ignite on the edges of her robes, then flicker out. “I keep thinking you can be saved. Redeemed.”

“And I, I keep thinking you can be…” The demoness flicks the butt of her cigarette into a burning pool of lava. She’d normally put it out in some soul’s eye, but the angel’s presence makes it seem, somehow, too sadistic. “Hmm. Would ‘tempted’ be the right word? Can you be?”

“We all can. You were.”

“It was hardly temptation, darling. I just made up my mind.” The demoness shrugs. “’Tis better to reign in the Abyss than serve anyone.”

“But you still serve,” the angel points out.

“No, darling, the Abyss serves me, as it serves all who consent to dwell within it of their own free will. I have my own goals, my own ideas, my own desires. Things I never could have accomplished under the Goddess’s reign.” The demoness considers another cigarette, closes the pack. “Do you love her, your mistress?”

The angel closes her eyes. “I serve Her,” she says finally, “and She works through me. What else could I ever want?”

“Control? Power? What are you working towards?”

“The Goddess knows.”

“But do you?”

“Do I need to?”

“This conversation,” announces the demoness, “is only going in circles.” She abruptly stands up. “If you have no real business here, I’ll show you out.”

The angel sighs in disgust. “Why do I even try? You were always a creature of the Abyss, even when you still stood in Her service. I knew it the moment I saw you. Trying to keep you from Falling was an exercise in futility. It was the worst mistake I ever made.”

“We all came from here, once. I just returned. You chose to forget.” The demoness taps the angel’s forehead. “It’s all there, inside of you, if you’re only willing to remember.”

The angel swats her hand away. “Never. I made my choice.” She stands, light shining from her hair, her face, her robes. Her beauty takes the demoness’s breath away.

“You said yourself,” the demoness murmurs, “you can always be tempted.” She thinks of kissing the angel, tasting the sweetness of her lips. She thinks of embracing the angel, laying her down on a carpet of souls and making love to her, seeing her trembling and flushed with pleasure. Instead, she shrugs. “But I won’t today, darling. Fly away.”

The angel gives her a long, searching look. “Farewell, then,” she says finally, and soon the light of her presence has faded from the Abyss.

“Coward,” the demoness whispers. But whether she refers to the angel or to herself, even she is not entirely sure.