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In my experience, the only time they felt even the slightest bit guilty for the shit they’d done when they were alive was when they were being held accountable for it in the afterlife.
And if your “goodness” in life was dependent upon the punishment you might receive in death, then you just weren’t a fucking good person, period.
My time on the human plane hadn’t exposed me to much in the way of good humans, either.
Sure, it likely didn’t help that I spent most of my time at the house, not wanting anything to do with them. Unlike my brother who was out there fucking a different human woman every hour on the hour, sharing drinks with them, going out to eat with them, practically fucking pretending that he was one of them.
The only humans that were in the house were the ones who attended the drug and alcohol and violence-infested parties that our club threw. Though, admittedly, those weren’t happening all that often anymore. Not since a few of the guys had found their other halves.
A witch, which meant mostly human to begin with.
A human nurse who, admittedly, was likely not going to go to hell thanks to her selfless service to her other humankind.
And then a damned demonslayer.
All of them, though, were no longer fully human anyway. Once they’d gone through with their little ritual, they became just a little bit like us.
I was apt to say that any goodness I saw in those women was due to the demon blood in their veins.
Maybe that would sound fucked to a human, to claim that the demons were the “good guys.”
The thing was, the humans failed to realize that demons weren’t just one thing. There were ranks. There were different kinds.
Sure, arguably, the abominations born in hell that wormed their way to the human realm to feast on babies or walk around in human flesh were, yeah, pretty evil.
But the demons like me, like the rest of us, the ones that did the punishing in hell? We were the good guys.
We kept the humans in line.
It was ignorant to believe we were the wicked ones. Especially when all I’d seen while reading the human history books was evil.
Wars fought by innocent boys for the ideas of old men who sat safe in their palaces. Famines created by the rich who hoarded all the wealth. Genocide based on things as ridiculous as the color of skin. Mass rape of innocent women and girls in villages conquered by a foreign military power.
Fucking disgusting, that was what I thought humans were.
So, yeah, I didn’t give a single fuck what happened to them if these old gods were back and ready to show them a taste of their own medicine.
The other demons cared, in a way. Since they were stuck on the human plane because of their mates and offspring.
So I had to get the information they wanted.
What I did give a fuck about, though, was what this situation meant for the underworld. For the Hell I came from and planned to return to.
Our boss, as we knew him, was Lucifer.
Lucifer, the fallen angel of Heaven.
Part of the Christian religion.
But, not the only ruler of the underworld in history.
No.
The old gods, well, they had Hades.
And I had no fucking idea what that meant for Hell, as I was sure he planned to go back there.
I knew Lenore was busy with Lycus and her offspring lately, but she wasn’t the only witch around who could open up some Hellmouths. Eventually, I would find one powerful enough and use her to get back to my home.
