Chapter 5

5

O f course I laughed. How could I not? He'd really nailed that description. But I filed what he said our grandmother's name was away in the back of my mind to look up later. I could probably get away with a search on the computers at the school library. Maybe. Would they report that to my parents? I decided to worry about it later. "You're not wrong," I admitted. "She told us that our older brother was going to Hell because he was a homosexual."

"Okay, she was half right," Gabe acknowledged, and I wondered how in the world anyone could be half right about going to Hell. "I did in fact go to Hell, but not because I was deemed a sinner. And I'm actually asexual and homoromantic, not gay, so she was a little off there."

"She's a little 'off' everywhere," I muttered, trying to comprehend what my brother had just told me. The only 'asexual' I knew was when organisms reproduced by splitting. I'd have to ask him more, but it could wait. "If you didn't go to Hell because of the gay thing, how did you end up there?"

After he confirmed whether I really wanted to know or not, because apparently the information also affected me, Gabe began a tale worthy of Homer that involved ancient Roman emperors, murder, torture, and even a daring rescue from Limbo.

It boggled my mind. "Wait, what?" I asked when he paused, unsure what to make of anything he told me. It sounded more like something from a fantasy novel than reality.

Gabe burst into laughter, which only confused me further. I didn't think he was laughing at me, per se, but I wasn't sure what was so funny. He held up a hand as if asking for a moment to compose himself, and I sat in silence until he managed to collect himself enough to speak. "Sorry," he giggled. "That's exactly the kind of reaction I've had to so much of this." He waved a hand toward the red demon and smiled. "Meet Byron Lawrence Zebub. At least, that's what should be on our grandmother's marriage license. I think that's something you can look up online, so there's one thing you can use to prove we were here. Anyway, his name is actually?—"

"Beelzebub," I said, my brain connecting the dots. B.L. Zebub. Clever. "Holy shit, man. I really am a demon." Again with the swearing I never did, but could you blame me? I wasn't sure how to feel about being a demon. I now had a place I belonged, but unfortunately, that place was the same somewhere I'd been raised to fear. I really was damned, but... I looked at Gabe again, and he seemed awfully relaxed and happy for someone who'd been damned.

"Well, a quarter demon," he corrected. "Surprised me, too. I thought I was human, but every time my heart got yanked out, the less human I became, apparently."

I winced. That was definitely something I wouldn't wish on...okay, almost anyone. I wasn't so nice that I didn't understand that some people had to take responsibility for what they'd done in life. I wondered what would become of my parents and hoped it would teach them the error of their screwed-up ways. Also, I hoped that it was prolonged and agonizing, but I tried not to dwell on how bloodthirsty that made me.

Then Gabe proceeded to tell me how they'd won a war in Hell and beaten the Roman god of death using a swarm of potato bugs and his angry wife. When I finished grossing out over the thought of a swarm of creepy-crawlies the likes of which I hoped I never witnessed, I was ready to talk about the important things.

"You really are my dead brother," I said, knowing in my heart it was true.

Gabe nodded, smiling a little. It had that same hint of sadness to it that I'd noticed before, and I wondered if he was sad because he was dead or sad that we hadn't met before he departed from the living world.

"And you're dating Satan?" I confirmed—Satan, who actually sounded like a nice but overworked guy with a crappy job.

"Stan," Gabe corrected. "But yeah."

"And Hell is run like a corporation."

"Basically, but that's pretty appropriate when you think about it."

Then I asked one of the questions preying on my mind. "Will I automatically go to Hell when I die?" Because I wasn't sure that was something I wanted to happen. It sounded like I could always visit if I wanted, but I'd been raised that Hell was a place to avoid.

Gabe shook his head, and I sighed in relief. "No. If you continue to be a decent human being, you can opt to spend your afterlife as a human in Heaven. That said, you also have the choice of coming to work in Hell because everyone knows you've got demon blood in you. You have options."

I was being given a choice, something I had never truly had before, and it kind of made me want to cry. "So if I jumped off a tall building?—"

"Don't," Gabe interrupted.

Seriously, he'd put a new life without my horrible parents on a pedestal, just waiting for me to take it, and he was telling me not to grab it with both hands? "But?—"

"No. If things are bad in the living world and you need to escape, I can come to get you. You're not fully human, which I've been told means a lot of the rules don't apply to us. So please don't kill yourself."

I didn't want to make that promise. I also really wanted to tell him to get me the moment I woke up because my life had already gotten to that point. But who would stop my parents if I was gone? Who else would get hurt because I ran? So, instead of begging him to take me away, I nodded. At least I knew I had an out. Maybe that would help me hang on long enough to get things done.

My brother dug into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled something out. When he offered it to me, I saw it was a card. And it was glowing. The glow was less bright when I took it from him, but it was still there. "What is this?" I asked, looking it over. It was roughly the size of a trading card and had some weird design I'd never seen.

"The Magician," he answered. "A tarot card. I made sure to get one that doesn't look like a more traditional tarot card for fear your parents will call you a heretic and use it as an excuse to hurt you. Don't hold the card itself in front of them because it'll glow just like that when you do. Instead, maybe put it in an envelope or one of those plastic sleeves meant for protecting trading cards."

I gave him a look. "But this is a dream," I reminded him.

"It'll be in your hand when you wake up."

Well, that was convenient. I wondered if he could bring me a cellphone so I could use the internet without worrying about my parents knowing what I was looking up. "Okay, but what do I do with it?"

"Go to Denny's," he said with a smirk.

I gave him another look which probably made it clear I was not in the mood for jokes.

"No, I'm serious," he said, laughing. "You're in Burbank, right?"

I nodded. What did that have to do with anything? "And?"

"If you ever need me to come get you, head for the Denny's parking lot. Go to the parking spot next to the dumpsters and drop the card on the ground. It doesn't matter which side is up. Just make sure it's touching the ground. Then whisper my name. I'll come get you."

I didn't believe that could possibly be true, and I gave Gabe the look again.

"Seriously," he said. "There's a portal to Hell there, and if you whisper my name, it'll teleport me directly under it so I can fly up and grab you."

"A portal to Hell," I said.

He nodded.

"In the parking lot of the Burbank Denny's."

He nodded again.

I'd heard jokes and stuff about the place, not having ever actually eaten there, but just based on what I'd heard... "That explains so much. "

Gabe laughed, and I couldn't help but notice how nice he looked when he smiled. It was genuine, not the fake smiles my parents and their cronies had all perfected, and somehow, it made me want to hug him despite having just met him. "Right?" he chortled. "I'm serious, though. If you need me, I'm there. I know what your mother is like, and..." He hesitated, then pushed forward as if yanking off a bandage. "Do you know what your father's been up to?"

I glowered, trying to forget what I'd seen in the study. It hadn't just been my father. It was both of them and all their friends. That said, it wasn't the time to correct him, given I had no idea when I would wake up. "Oh, I know," I muttered darkly. "I just need hard evidence so I can get that perverted fuck locked away, but no one in the church wants to go against him because he's powerful and rich." At least, that was my assumption. It wasn't like I could go ask members of the church to help me put my parents in jail. The guy had the police force in his back pocket, after all. I didn't see it going well if I tried to get anyone else involved.

"Okay, I just want to make one thing clear," my brother said, his tone weirdly stern. "Murder will get you sent to Hell and not to work there. So while I personally would understand it, I don't recommend going that route."

I couldn't help myself. I snorted, amused. At least he got why I'd want to consider it.

"That said, we'll do what we can to help you get him locked away. It shouldn't be too hard. We'll get Gabriel on it."

I was pretty sure my brother had just offered to set an archangel on my father, and there was a beauty in that I couldn't deny. I nodded, then started to ask a question I wasn't sure was appropriate and decided against it.

"What?" Gabe asked, curious.

I looked down at the glowing tarot card, staring at it momentarily to collect myself before looking up at Gabe again. "Can I meet Stan? And our grandmother? I mean, in dreams, like this, where I won't get in trouble."

He looked at our grandfather, who'd been silent the entire time, watching us, and Beelzebub nodded. "He's part incubus," he said. "And clearly with better powers than you if he's a lucid dreamer."

"I will send my hellhound after you, I swear to god."

That struck me as odd, and I cocked my head in curiosity. "Wait, can demons even swear to God?" Really, shouldn't God have an issue with that?

Gabe laughed hard and loud while our grandfather rubbed at his face. "Oh dear lord," Beelzebub groaned. "There's two of you."

"I mean, yes?" I answered, not understanding what he was trying to say. "Unless Gabe only counts as half a person or something?"

"He means you're just like me in some ways," Gabe said. "One of my first questions was to ask Gabriel if it was okay for an angel to say fuck."

I frowned. " Is it okay for an angel to say fuck?" I was already having a hard time sorting through all the new information I'd been given, and for some reason, an archangel using profanity just struck me as incredibly wrong.

Beelzebub sighed. "To answer the original question, yes, we can probably lead him in and out of dreams that aren't his. It's worth a try, at any rate."

"Okay," Gabe said before focusing on me again. "Is it okay if we come back? I couldn't ask this time, but if you don't want us here..."

I immediately panicked. I couldn't lose this connection, the sole person who seemed to understand and accept me. "No!" I yelled before correcting myself. "I mean, yes, I want you here. I..." I stopped, taking a breath to try to calm myself. "I want someone to talk to," I admitted in a whisper.

Gabe stood up and approached me slowly, gauging whether I was okay with it. I watched, not moving until he stood before me and offered me a hand. I took it and was helped to my feet before being pulled into a hug. I stiffened, surprised to have someone holding me as if I meant something to them, then leaned against him and started crying. I hadn't meant to, but having someone care was apparently my breaking point.

"Don't worry," Gabe whispered. "We've got you, and if anyone tries to take you from us, there'll be Hell to pay."

It took me a while to collect myself, and at that point, I was kind of embarrassed to lift my head from his shoulder, so we just stood there. Beelzebub eventually cleared his throat. "You're waking up soon," he announced. "Kid, before you go... Look, I can tell they're at least abusing you emotionally from the way you act. Are they getting physical, too? Aside from clearly neglecting to feed you."

I heard Gabe suck in a surprised breath as if he hadn't considered the notion. He stepped back far enough to try to get a look at my downturned face. "Zeke?"

"They're not sexually abusing me," I started. Given what I'd learned about my parents, it was probably a good place to begin. "Honestly, I only know how I was raised. They're strict and not what I'd call kind by any stretch of the imagination. There have always been slaps, pinches, and lashes with the belt for misbehavior. They've only beaten me once, and that was the day they got the phone call about collecting Gabe's body. My father..." I stopped and sniffled again, tears threatening a second time when I remembered, and Gabe squeezed my shoulder comfortingly. "He celebrated. That sick pervert was thrilled you were dead, and it turned my stomach. I tried to tell him the thought of people like you made me ill, to hide why I was really upset. He forced me to continue eating dinner, and I couldn't keep it down. My mother punched me so hard she had to make up my face before school for a week, just so no one would see the black eye. They haven't touched me since, but I'm on edge every moment of the day I'm near them, just waiting for it."

"We're taking him now," Gabe told our grandfather. "I was too busy being concerned over whether he'd listen to us or not to consider that they might be abusing him." He looked me over. "I couldn't see it before because your clothes hide it well, but you are pretty skinny, aren't you? I should have known better, since I know what our mother is like. I'm not letting you stay there."

"Wait," I said before Beelzebub could answer him. "I want them in jail. Both of them, because it's not just my father. I want them to pay for what they've done. I need to stay in their house to do that."

"As much as I feel the same way Gabe does, it would be easier if you can find hard evidence," our grandfather agreed. "While angels and demons certainly can waltz through your house and do what they want, we have our own rules about meddling in the mortal world. Gabriel can find information for us, but he can't just throw your parents in jail for us. Even your particular god has rules he has to follow, or he'd be helping absolutely everyone. The guy has a huge heart but not a ton of common sense."

I chewed at my bottom lip, my heart thundering. "He's real?" I finally asked, needing the reassurance.

Beelzebub nodded. "He's real. He might not be what you expect, but he exists. So does Jesus. He definitely isn't what you expect."

"Him, his twelve boyfriends, and his girlfriend," Gabe said with a snort, and my jaw dropped. He grinned at my expression. "Yes, really." He brushed my hair back from my face with a hand, and his grin turned into a warm smile. "Your faith may be a little cracked and frayed right now but know that your god and the guy your faith considers your savior don't care who you love. They just want you to love."

"When you're ready to get out of there, we can keep you in Hell with us for at least a little while," Beelzebub assured me. "We can probably bend the rules enough so you can stay down there until you're a legal adult if you want. That way, you wouldn't have to worry about them butting into your life again. Like Gabe said, you have options. I'll bring it up to Stan, and we can talk to the higher-ups."

That was far more than I'd had before, and I nodded. "I'll think about it."

The room started to blur. "Oh, there it is," our grandfather said. "Time's up."

"Remember to keep that card where you can reach it," Gabe reminded me. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me gently. "Your oldest brother already fucking loves you so much despite only meeting you today. Remember that when they're being assholes, okay?"

I nodded, feeling tears well up for a third time. Then I opened my eyes, blinking to see I was in my tiny closet-sized bedroom. I moved my hand and felt it touch something that hadn't been in my bed when I fell asleep. I took hold of it, and a soft glow started from the vicinity of my hand.

The soft glow was mirrored by a soft warmth growing in my heart. I had a brother, a real brother who cared about me and would never just sit by and watch as our deplorable mother beat me black and blue. It didn't matter that he was technically dead or that he was an honest-to-God demon (though was 'honest to God' an appropriate term when talking about a resident of Hell? I'd have to ask). Technically, so was I, at least a little.

I slid the card into my backpack. It would be safe there until I could figure out how to carry it without someone finding it. I was never really without the backpack anyway, so maybe it would be fine there. Or not. If I had to grab it quickly, fiddling with my backpack would take time I likely couldn't afford. I'd figure it out. In the meantime, I needed to get ready for school.

I'm still not sure how I didn't laugh in my mother's face that morning as Gabe's 'weasle-faced twatwaffle' echoed in my head, but I managed. I was pretty proud of myself for that, and as I rejoined the doldrums of the real world, I let the memory of last night's meeting carry me through my day.