Chapter III: Lies

Return to earth.

The air was cold inside the church around Tristan, and through the windows he could tell it was night time. A day must have passed since he was on earth. A cross hung on the wall above the altar. He glanced at it warily, before approaching the woman that prayed. When he was close enough to recognize her words, he stopped and listened, fixing his messed up hair and making sure his wings disappeared.

“Please help me survive on my own, Lord,” she prayed quietly. “It’s too late to go home. Father said he will never let me come back. I disobeyed him and ran away here, because I couldn’t stand living there anymore.

“All I caused was death. I failed to comfort Mother, and I failed to protect Seth and myself. They both died because of me, and Father never cared. He ordered me to forget the past and live according to his wishes, but how could I agree to something so heartless?"

Tristan was greatly moved. He had also disobeyed his father, and could not return home because of it. People had died because of him as well.

Finished with her prayer, she stood up and turned around to see him. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Have you been standing there listening to me?” she asked.

Donning an innocent countenance, he replied, “I didn’t want to interrupt you, but I couldn’t help listening. I’m sorry, your prayer intrigued me.”

“No, don’t apologize. You were nice not to interrupt. I shouldn’t claim any privacy here.” She tried to hurry out, but he seized her by the wrist.

In order to steal her attention, he said, “Wait, I was sent by God to help you.” At that moment, his angelic wings appeared and she gasped in surprise.

“You’re an angel?”

“I am what you see.” His voice was mystifying, but in reality the lie could have made him cringe.

Afraid, she fell down on her knees before him.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” he apologized. “It was the only way to prove my words.”

Seeing she was unaffected, Tristan knew he had to do something. Desperately, he thought back to what Satan had explained. When it comes to women, they all want that emotional touch, he said. Emotional touch? What did that mean? Was it the same as a father hugging his child, or was it different?

There wasn’t any more time to think. Tentative yet trying, he knelt down and gently lifted her face. “Please let me help you,” he spoke through the silence.

At this close distance, her dark brown eyes looked drowned in misery. Behind them, he could catch but a glimpse of the happiness she had lost. She gazed into his eyes doubtfully, before asking, “What could you do for me?”

His heart leaped at the response. He had expected her to say something like go away or quit touching me, but she proved him wrong. Now he could begin to draw out her desires.

“I could grant you riches,” he offered, taking his hand back. Although he doubted greed would ensnare her, there was still a possibility.

She glanced to the side, a sign of consideration followed by refusal. Trying to be polite, she said, “You can’t give me that so easily. I only asked for help to survive on my own.”

Her decision slightly disappointed him, but he expanded the horizon by saying, “Then I will be your assistant at life. Whenever you are in need, I will be there.”

A faint light shone through her eyes, and then it quickly faded. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” she warned him. Her voice sounded like she was hiding a terrible secret.

He looked at her sternly, and asked, “Are you in danger?”

“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “Ever since I moved here, someone’s been…watching me.”

A sinking feeling invaded his soul. Not this again, he thought. Everyone I guided was killed somehow.

          “How can you protect me?” she asked with a trace of fear.

          The question pierced his very existence. He always asked himself the same thing, and every time he thought he answered it, his plan failed him. However, with the power Satan had given him, he was free to do much more than when he was an angel. It flowed through him like a stream of creative magic, just waiting to be unleashed.

          Feeling this power within, he told her, “I possess any weapon imaginable. There are many ways I could protect you.”

          She gave him a nervous look, as if she didn’t trust him.

          “What’s wrong?” he asked, hoping she didn’t suspect his devilry.

          “It’s time for me to leave,” she said. “I have work tomorrow.” The unprecedented response calmed his fear. She stood up, waiting for a proper goodbye, and he rose to meet her.

          “Have you accepted my offer?” he asked.

          “I suppose.” Her eyes were averted, and he knew she lacked certainty. Yet her doubtful words were enough to satisfy him.

          “Thank you for listening to me,” he said. “I will see you again soon.”

          “Why?”

          “Because I don’t want you to forget me.”

          She smiled a little and asked, “How could I forget?”

          He hid his wings and chivalrously held the door open. When she walked off into the cold weather, he stood outside and watched her go. Wearing a warm coat, he thought, she would be fine. Snow fell from the night sky where her footsteps trailed. It was white, the pure color of innocence.

          Suddenly a hand grasped his shoulder, and a deep, familiar voice said, “Her name’s Melissa Gray. She’s an artist, painter by trade.”

          Tristan could recognize Satan’s voice anywhere. He hated it, but couldn’t help admiring its dramatic flare. It seemed to be drawing the attention of an entire audience, even though no one else was around. Its level of enthusiasm far surpassed Tristan’s.

          The master let go of his shoulder and circled around to face him, flashing his devilish trademark grin. Since he was in public (a term often used by angels and demons), his fangs, pointed ears, and tail weren’t showing. His shirt was covered by a black coat that fell below his waist. He was carrying another coat, which he handed to Tristan.

          “I thought you might be cold.”

          “How thoughtful,” Tristan said sarcastically, putting it on.

“Anyway, there’s something I want to show you.”

          “What is it?”

          He smirked at his curiosity, and replied, “Oh, nothing much. Just a memory I’ve managed to craft an identical illusion of.”

          “Melissa’s memory? It’s of someone dying, right?” he guessed without enthusiasm.

          “Why would I show you anything without death, boy? Of course someone dies. Melissa’s boyfriend Seth, to be precise. It happened her senior year of high school. He threw a birthday party for her in his backyard, and there was a pool.”

           “What’s makes the pool so significant?”

          “You’ll see, as soon as we become shadows.” That meant being invisible and unheard, to the point where anything could move right through you without even noticing it.

Wanting to see Satan’s illusion, Tristan joined him as a shadow. His body disappeared from the eyes of anyone in the area, but the two demons arranged their magic so they could still see each other.

“Now I can show you, and only I will get to see you space out,” said Satan. “Just remember, the guy with brown hair is Seth and the guy wearing street clothes is Henry, the murderer.”

“Got it,” Tristan replied, and slowly, the vision took over his sight. It showed the pool and a patio surrounding it. There were party guests everywhere, chatting by the tables or swimming.

Invading the scene, the two guys ran out of the house. The one with brown hair, presumably Seth, was chasing the other, who was strangely wearing baggy jeans and a T-shirt, instead of swimwear like everyone else. Tristan could only guess that he wasn’t invited, and that his name was Henry.

Cornering him in front of the pool, Seth raised a finger and shouted, “I saw you steal something from Melissa’s dry clothes!”

“No I didn’t!” he retaliated, his face burning in front of all the guests that stared at him.

Noticing a bulge in his pocket, Seth further accused him, saying, “You stuffed it in your pocket! Give it to me!”

Henry’s expression quickly turned from humiliation to anger. Glaring at his enemy with pure hatred, he seemed angry enough to fight him to the death. “Fine!” he said. “If that’s what you want, I’ll give it to you!”

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a gun and shot him.

From that point on, the memory emphasized that Tristan was watching from Melissa’s eyes. He could see what she was doing, as if he were doing the same thing.

She tried to grab the gun, but the shooter moved it out of reach and pushed her into the pool. For a moment, she struggled to keep above the surface, before sinking below.

Through the water, she could see Seth fighting him. Then her vision darkened, a shot rang out, and she lost consciousness.

          Tristan’s eyes awoke to the real world, where the devil was staring at him humorously. “Sorry I cut off the ending,” he said. “It would have been awkward.”

          “What happened?”

          “Nothing, really,” he replied, stretching his arms behind his back. “Seth steals the gun and kills Henry. Then he manages to save Melissa from drowning, before he bleeds to death.”

          “That sounds…like a lot. Why couldn’t she just swim to the surface?”

          “She’s always been afraid of water, so she never learned to swim. Seth threw her a pool party because he was trying to help her overcome her fear.”

          “Do you mean…hydrophobia?”

          “Precisely, and there’s a bit more to the ending. After he revives Melissa, they exchange last words with each other. I doubt you would want to watch that from her point of view. Don’t you see why it would be awkward?”

          “Yeah, I suppose,” said Tristan, tilting his head to the side. Far from getting the point, he thought, perhaps receiving CPR from a guy would be weird, but hearing their last words would be invading too far into Melissa’s privacy.

          “Good,” said Satan, recomposing himself. “Well Tristan, I’m going to leave you again now.”

          “Yay,” he rejoiced, though not very loudly. For a moment, they stared at each other awkwardly.

I thought he was starting to appreciate me, thought Satan.

What’s with him? thought Tristan.

Not knowing what to say and tired of the silence, Satan soon disappeared.