Chapter Text
Ever since Public Safety began working with devils, they were cautious in ensuring they were well fed. Hungry devils were a recipe for disobedience, and the hunters had no aspiration with meeting their end to their thirst. The building was stocked with blood and donations from the city’s morgue. Most hunters even looked the other way when the devils sought after living flesh, as long as it was justified, as long as it didn’t interfere with their work.
Power would often feed on the local cattle, pissing off the farmers outside of their city.
Denji, once being a human, preferred the blood bags and whatever Makima fed him.
And Angel, well, didn’t have much of a preference until he got a taste of something new.
It was going to be a long trip to the east where devils were running rampant in a village, and a few from Special Division 4 were being sent to take care of the problem. The storm was sweeping through a small town east of them, dirt road alleys filled with carcass. Unincorporated towns often had more monstrous crime, much of it going unnoticed by governments in larger cities. But there wasn’t a soul that was out of Makima’s sight.
So the hunters and the devils were sent on their mission, grumbling about how a hiccup of a town was not worth their time. A town without hotels, without skyscraper buildings. Just two unsavory motels and the body of Christ on every door. Townsfolk would tell you that the church burned to the ground more than once and that nothing would stop them from spreading the Good Word. They were utterly enraptured and forsaken by God.
They took the train east, light bags packed for the trip that shouldn’t last more than a weekend. The hunters ensured they had tranquilizers for their devil companions, and the fiends always carried vials of blood. Some devils opted for sedatives, especially when their thirst would become demanding. Frenzies were not persistent, as many of the devils had their thirst under control, some more than others.
Angel had prided himself in maintaining control. He could go days without a drop of blood before it started to hurt, before the burning pit in his stomach came back. The winged man did not revel in consuming flesh and blood. So, he abstained until he couldn’t, forcing his mind to whirl and go fatuous with hunger. It was an edging torment, one that Angel grew accustomed to. His appetite would remain dormant until he said so, but swelled around certain aromas. Two of those being leather and menthol.
Special Division 4 boarded the train, nearly an eight hour ride east to a town no one wanted to be stuck in. Levit, Idaho was a long way from Seattle, and the division was frustrated over the trip. With reluctance, they found their seats, stuffing their suitcases and bags in the overhead space. Aki led Power and Denji to the first class seating with Angel by his side, their eyes wide with how surprisingly spacious it was. The carpet was ultraviolet, the seats a deep blue with yellow stars that somehow clashed with the gray walls.
“Think it’s dumb as fuck that we’re being sent to the middle of nowhere,” Denji started, “but this train is the shit.”
“They have fancy folded hot towels, Denji, look!” Power joined in awe, the two young fiends shoving each other into the space. Aki held back an eye roll and let them bask in the car of the train, knowing that it was going to be a long trip there and back. Angel’s shoulder brushed past his arm to lay claim on the window seat, getting comfortable right away. The man let him steal the inside, always permitting what he wanted anyway. The hunter would readily suffer if it meant Angel was content.
Aki put everyone’s bags in the overhead rack then sat in the aisle seat next to Angel. Denji and Power were already making a mess of the towels, snapping them at each other like two kids.
“Hey, knock that shit off before you break something,” Aki scolded, pulling his pack of cigarettes from his pants pocket.
“Didn’t think you could smoke on trains,” chimed Angel, flipping through a magazine that was set on the table separating the four hunters.
Aki shook the cigarette from the pack anyway. “There’s always an exception to things we shouldn’t be doing, right?”
Angel looked up and wasn’t sure what he meant by that. He couldn’t have been directing that at him, right? Whatever. He went back to flipping through the pages mindlessly to keep his hands busy. His fingers shook as he turned the page to an ad for Calvin Klein, a blonde beauty with glittery skin plastered on page 27. He eyed his flexing triceps, the way the briefs clung to his hips perfectly, how utterly sculpted his body looked on the glossy page. Angel felt that tinge of hunger, tracing the muscle on the man’s hamstrings. He quickly flipped the page and pushed the thoughts of chewing tendons between his teeth away.
“So, tell me about Idaho,” Angel changed the subject.
“Is Idaho even a real place?” Denji joked with the warm towel on top of his head. Power snickered and grabbed another magazine from the table.
“What do you want to know?” Aki scoffed.
“Shit, I don’t know. Figured you knew about it since you’re dull as fuck.” Angel pushed back, earning chuckles from the two sitting across from them.
“Hm, well I think you’ll fit right in at Levit. Blend in with the goats.” Angel fumed at that. Denji was losing it, smacking the table like Aki was some comedic genius when it was the stupidest thing Angel had ever heard.
“It’s okay, Angel. Aki will make fast friends with the horses with a face like that,” Power giggled, backing him up as if he needed it.
“I just wanted to know about the state, but if we are just gonna go back and forth, I don’t give a fuck anymore.” Angel was more upset than he wanted to be. He didn’t know why, it was childish, they were joking, it was funny. It was so fucking funny. But why did it sting?
“There is something you should know,” the hunter started, “and you have to be careful.”
Angel leaned in to listen, Power and Denji also interested in what he was about to say next.
“The people in Levit… They’re a different breed,” he continued. “You just might get taken and eaten by a cult, Angel.”
“Wha–”
“One look at you and they’ll sacrifice you for sure. A walking angel in a bible town. Better eat them before they eat you first.” His chest exploded. He couldn’t hear them laughing anymore. The screaming was loud in his brain, all at once, and it was red red red. Angel felt the mold grow around the cavity of his heart. He despised humans. He cursed devils. He hated himself the most.
“Fuck you, Hayakawa.” He whipped his face to the window to look at anything else. Why the fuck are you getting so bent over something so meaningless? But it wasn’t without meaning. Aki didn’t understand the weight of his words. The burden that Angel carried in his ribs. The famine, the turbulent fucking need. The way his mouth would salivate when tobacco and leather would invade his senses. Aki didn’t understand and Angel wasn’t sure if he ever could.
He fucking hated him. He hated him. He wanted him more than anything in the universe. He wanted to fucking rip him to shreds.
He knew the hours would pass agonizingly slow.
The concierge brought lunch to each table; an array of mixed fruit, chicken noodle soup, soft bread, and neapolitan ice cream for dessert.
Pure devils couldn’t enjoy food like humans or even fiends could. Angel brought his knees to his chest as he watched the three eat their meals. He followed the way Aki tore a chunk from his bread to dip in the soup, and when he chewed and swallowed, the muscles in his neck strained. A delicate sternocleidomastoid, how delicious. Broth wet his lips, his tongue lapped at his spoon. Angel wondered what it tasted like.
Denji slurped the soup garishly, broth dripping down his chin and onto his shirt. Power ate the chicken from her soup with her bare hands, the fiend not having much of a taste for human dishes.
Angel hugged his knees closer, staring at the fruit bowl in front of him. It was colorful, smelled of piquant citrus and nectar. He leaned in and took a strawberry from the bowl, sniffed it first, the smell was something sugary and bright. The devil put the berry to his lips, meeting it with his tongue and biting into it with his teeth. It was cold and tart, seeds getting stuck in his canines as he chewed. His throat tightened as he gagged, covering his expression with a wing. He wished he could have liked it.
Aki bit into an apple slice, teeth cutting through easily, the syrupy juice coating his lips. Angel wondered what his taste buds felt, if the texture was pleasing against his teeth. If he salivated for more while swallowing, going back for seconds, for thirds. Again and again. If he was ever tormented over choking on the skin, could it be too tough to chew?
But Angel was rather insatiable. He would endure until he puked, forcing down the food that Aki had a taste for until he was sick.
“You should try the ice cream. I think you might not hate it,” Aki suggested as he shoveled another spoonful of soup in his mouth.
“What’s it taste like?” He was curious, but he knew it always tasted the same. He looked down at the multicolor treat, strawberry bleeding into cream and chocolate. It looked soft and it smelled cold, like polluted snow piling in a parking lot. The devil wasn’t sure he could stomach it.
“Like a toothache,” he laughed. “If you were human, I think it’d be your favorite.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffed, taking the spoon from the dish out of spite.
“Nothing, I just feel like you’d like something sickeningly sweet.”
Angel wasn’t sure why he felt annoyed by that. Why rage seeped into his cells when he couldn’t accept that he would never enjoy the cold treat. That he would never be human in the way Aki was. That he would always hunger for what he couldn’t devour, driving himself mad with it. It had been days since he had a drop of blood, pushing his limits beyond comfort, and it was foolish. Angel should have known better.
“I guess that explains why I don’t care for you,” he bit, meeting the spoonful of ice cream with his lips. The taste singed the roof of his mouth, tearing through his nostrils until it was too much. Power chortled at the way his face turned green as he brought a napkin to his lips and choked. Sweat coated his back, his neck, and his hands. Cold shivers jolted through his body while his insides detonated. The taste was coming back up his throat like acid, or maybe it never left. He pushed the bowl away, gut turning inside out. Everything you love disgusts me.
Angel pushed off the table and nearly tripped over Aki’s legs. The two fiends and the human were taken by surprise by his sudden burst of movement, high-tailing it to the restroom in the back of the car. The devil repulsed, chest searing as the human food was making its way back up behind his teeth. With the stars on the seats spinning, Angel stumbled down the aisle with his hand gluing his mouth shut. He swung the door open to the first-class toilet with his free hand, kicking the door shut behind him as he fell to his knees on the teal-tiled floor in front of the porcelain seat.
Using the steel support bars, Angel kept himself upright as he retched into the toilet, blood mixing with strawberry and neapolitan. Vomit between his teeth, tearing through his esophagus like glass shards. He heaved, hands slipping on the bars as he convulsed, throwing up everything and then some. Wings hugged his body to keep himself steady. When he wiped his mouth, his thumb stained carmine. Spit dribbled down his chin and he felt embarrassed, alone on the floor. Bunching toilet paper in his hands, Angel cleaned the bile from his face before throwing it in the toilet to flush.
What a revolting display.
The nauseated Angel wobbled to his feet, taking small strides to the sink. Unappreciative of the migraine-inducing fluorescents, the devil groaned as he turned on the faucet. He cupped the water in his palms and brought it to his face. Red hair stuck to his forehead, a tangled mess from sweat and sickness. Knees aching from the floor, canines holding the aftertaste of puke. The water filled his mouth, he sloshed it around and spat into the drain. Eyes damp with tears, Angel cursed after looking at his reflection. The tiny mirror displayed sunken eyes, gold veins protruding in his face and down his neck. His sleeves were soaked from the splash, his collar thoroughly drenched with them. His wings dropped, feathers barbed and piercing.
Angel saw through his reflection with bloodshot eyes and pictured himself as a horrid, ugly thing. He held onto his stomach as it growled, pushing the images of Aki’s flesh away. Fucking sick. Angel kept vials of blood on him though he opposed it, all devils were required to keep them. He didn’t want to hunger, but it was overwhelming. His hands slipped into his jacket pocket to retrieve a vial from the case he reluctantly carried. The glass held the incarnadine liquid, hands shaking and sloshing the blood around. He hated that animalistic need to devour, to swallow down life until full. Angel hated humans, but he hated being a devil. He didn’t want to be anything, or be around anyone. Condemning himself, doomed to belong nowhere. The angel was consuming himself, auto-cannibalizing to the core.
The ichor flooded his mouth as he dipped his head back, swallowing the dense blood down his throat. His eyes went bright, a flare against ivory with gilt irises. Angel covered his mouth in disgust, choking down the vial. Sick sick sick! Angel cried, he sobbed and coughed on the one thing that sustained him. Why couldn’t he live without taking? How could he survive by abstaining, by starving?
It was too much. There was a time when Angel didn’t care as much as he did now. He was a devil before he was an angel, he would say. Humans eat to live, we are no different. But humans wouldn’t dine on rot. The taste of decay was rapturous. Will it ever stop?
“Fucking hell,” he groaned as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Angel was corroding. He was competing with it, racing against gluttony to the very end. He was so far behind, he thought he was first.
A knock on the door startled him to reality. He called “Be right out,” and headed for the door. When he opened it, an older man waited on the other side with his arms crossed in irritation which quickly turned into horror at the sight of Angel. The man hit the wall, crumpling to his knees in the presence of something biblical. The devil pushed past him with his wings, swaying back to his seat like he didn’t just throw up all of the blood in his body.
He had been gone long enough for Aki to notice, to know that something was wrong, but he wouldn’t say anything. It was easier for both of them to ignore the corpse in the room. Aki let him slide back into his seat without a word, knowing better after noticing the tinge on his lips. He had never seen Angel drink, but he always knew when he did because it would stain. The devil’s veins were still glowing dimly, a terrifying stardust splattered his skin. Aki knew, he always knew.
“What took you so lo–” A kick under the table and a glare that could kill interrupted Power from speaking further. Angel wasn’t fully there with them anyway, sinking into his seat and riding the high of the blood coursing through his body. Power could smell it, so she stopped pressing for more. The trio, though they may not understand, knew not to pry when Aki shot them that look.
“I took your ice cream since you didn’t like it. ‘M sorry.” Denji had made a mess out of the table. Sticky spots of ice cream and bread crumbs littered the surface. Angel wanted to be upset, but Denji was right, you didn’t like it.
“It’s fine. It was too sweet.” He glanced over at Aki who was looking at him, and he wanted to look away. Was that a soft expression, or was he imagining it? Angel never considered them friends, no, they were partners. Assuming that friendship was attached to that label would be foolish, right? But the way Aki looked at him then, with creased brows, eyes doleful and unblinking, Angel was fooled.
The sun was swallowed by the hills and trees. Power and Denji were sound asleep, the blonde snoring with his head resting on the blood fiend. The duo stuffed themselves with dinner, a generous helping of grilled chicken with potatoes and green beans. Power refused to eat the greens as always and Denji ate off of everyone’s plates because food was food. Aki took small bites. Angel watched him, tried mimicking him, and made himself sick again. He choked what he could down, the skin of the meat, the soft insides of the bake, and chewed through the sour taste of the vegetables. The devil settled on etching the way Aki ate, pretending to chew when he did. Glutted himself with the vision of the hunter. He imagined unhinging his jaw and putting Aki inside. Would he surrender himself to dissolve in the depths of his stomach? Or would he scream, rip out the entrails, claw through his intestines until they spilled on the floor? Would he see that all he wanted was the tenderness of his love? To be fed, to be eaten, to be consumed with devotion.
Enough of that. But he could smell him, senses marred with his scent. The fragrance of his palms, his fingers stained with tobacco. Angel could distinguish the tar in the creases of his digits, could detect the arsenic under his nails. Could inhale him down to the hypodermis, where his blood vessels and neurons gleamed and taunted him. Fuck you, Hayakawa. He had never craved human flesh so severely. Esteemed in his control, in his capacity to neglect his desires. This must be my hubris.
Aki had his head tilted back against the gaudy headrest, chest billowing with his drowsy breathing. Angel’s halo knocked against the glass of the window as he leaned his back against it, facing the hunter head-on with his knees to his chest. His thighs squeezed together, entranced in the ebb and flow of Aki’s inhalation. He felt himself harden, his pants taut against his crotch as he huffed in frustration. I fucking hate you. Absently palming himself, senses ignited, Angel sighed into his other hand. Fuck you fuck you fuck you. He pressed harder, wanting it to hurt, wanting to stop so fucking bad, but he bit into his hand as the feeling overwhelmed him. Want you inside of me. Wanna be filled. Wanted him stuck between the spaces of his teeth.
Angel damned the sundown, would beseech the night for the warmth of morning. He was infested with something he couldn’t have. Hunger that was felt in a different organ, starving for an obsession that just wasn’t feeding him.
***
When they woke, they had crossed state lines. It was early, the train had beat the sun to the small town of Levit. The four hunters gathered their bags and made their trek off of the train into the summer heat. They didn’t expect to be hit with the fetor of rot and decay with the mix of farmland. Blue sunlight painted the asbestos siding of houses as they walked through the sleeping town with their bags in hand.
“Jesus fuck it reeks worse than Seattle.” Denji held his nose, ironic for someone who used to eat absolute garbage.
“The stench doesn’t bother me.” Power grinned, inhaling deeply with her hands on her hips. It didn’t bother Angel much either. And that made him resent himself more.
“Makima said that the motel can check us in right away.” Aki looked at the map he had folded in his jacket next to his pack of cigarettes. “Should be up the block here.”
They walked to the shacky hotel, the neon sign glaring in their faces that yelled vacancy. The hunters figured they would throw their bags in the room and get settled for the long weekend. It was barely morning, too early for a drink, so the four settled on unpacking. Aki jangled the key in the lock, struggling slightly to get the knob to turn.
“Shit, c’mon.” He pushed his shoulder against the door as he kicked it open, stumbling inside.
“Aki versus the motel door.” Angel nudged his elbow into his side and walked into the room. Aki rolled his eyes, ego only subtly bruised.
“Smells like shit in here too.” Denji plugged his nose.
“Denji, you literally ate food from the dumpster,” Power retorted.
“What’s your point?” The kid threw his backpack on the ground and lunged himself into the queen-sized bed. Power threw her bag on Denji’s as the two continued to bicker back and forth.
Angel set his suitcase down by the mahogany wardrobe and opened the blinds to the rising sun. The sky was a burst of dusty blue and pink, the long shadows from the blinds cascading on the smoke-stained walls. There was a small table in the corner by the window with two chairs, everything dark wood and scratched. An ashtray sat in the middle of the table, and Angel found himself sitting in the chair close to the window.
Aki closed the door behind him and walked toward the bathroom to his right. He set his bag down against the wall before stepping into the room. The light flickered on repeatedly, unsteady and annoyingly so. There was a small, dirty tub facing the wide mirror above the sink. White towels were folded on a rack above the toilet marked with grime. The title was cream-colored and the walls had water stains, the faucet dripping and molding the pipes. Aki sighed as he went for the sink, splashing cold water on his face. He was exhausted, like always, dark circles permanently under his eyes. The man grabbed a towel from the rack and pressed it against his face. It smelled remarkably fresh compared to the stale air of the motel room. He held it to his nose and inhaled, the towel soft against his skin. He could use a shower, or a drink, or both. But it was hardly seven in the morning and they had shit to do later.
Power slammed her fist on the door and shouted. “Hey topknot, I gotta piss! Hurry up!”
The hunter rubbed his temples and folded the towel quickly. He set it on the fake granite counter and turned toward the door. When he opened it, Power was shifting her weight on her left and right feet.
“Go ahead,” he voiced, watching the fiend do a potty dance in front of him.
“Finally!” She shoved him out and slammed the door behind her.
He rubbed his arm as he stepped into the room, the light from the window exposing the shimmering dust in the air. Denji was lying on his stomach on the bed with his feet kicking. Angel was still sitting by the window, fixated on something outside.
“How come we only got two beds?” Denji questioned with a tone of annoyance.
Angel looked over at that, patiently waiting to hear what Aki would respond with.
Aki wasn’t entirely sure why Makima only booked them one room. He usually didn’t question her. So the four of them were forced in close proximity with only two beds.
“It’s just for a short while,” Aki spoke. “Just don’t be smothered by Power in your sleep.”
Denji snorted. “I’d like to see her try!”
Aki was insinuating that Angel would share the bed with him. Angel cursed at his face heating from the thought. He cursed at himself for his stomach growling.
He wanted to say that he could just sleep on the floor, or the chair, or the bathtub. Wanted to be far away from Aki, make his life easier. Maybe if he suggested that, Aki would feel relieved to not sleep next to him. Maybe Angel just wouldn’t sleep.
You’re acting like a child, Angel thought, turning his head back to the window. He continued to watch a few townsfolk gather around a decaying, wooden cross. They clasped their hands in what appeared to be prayer, muttering something with their eyes closed. Angel wondered what they could be praying to.
His wings were blurringly white, almost translucent as he unfurled them at his sides. If they just looked over, they would see him and scream.
A walking angel in a bible town. Maybe the Angel Devil liked it. He remembered the man who fell to his knees on the train at the sight of Angel. The fear in his eyes as the aurelian rippled through his veins, blood staining the corners of his mouth.
One look at you and they’ll sacrifice you for sure. He pictured himself tied to the cross outside, wings torn from his body and nailed to the wood behind him like a pinned moth. His halo dripping sunlight and blood, arms stretched out wide as his feet dangled. Waiting for the fire, waiting for the end.
“We should scope out the town, ask around and see what we find,” Aki suggested, securing his sword to his back.
“As if any of these people are going to talk to us.” Power walked in from the bathroom, tapping the horns on her head and pointing at Angel with her other finger.
“Aki and I could do the talking.” Denji sat up on his knees on the bed, wrinkling the blankets impressively. Power rolled her eyes in a yeah-right kind of way.
“The killers could be devils or fiends. Maybe even human.” Aki sat down in front of Angel and tapped a cigarette out of his pack. “Town is small. We are bound to find something.”
“How the fuck are they hiding so good then?” Denji groaned.
“They’re not,” Angel professed.
“What do you mean?” Power grumbled and sat on the bed with Denji. Aki was lighting his cigarette with his eyes on Angel.
“I mean, what if they don’t have to hide? What if the town is protecting them?”
“That’s bold, but I don’t see why when the town is being attacked. Nothing to gain from it.” Aki didn’t understand.
“Maybe it’s sacrifice," Angel clarified.
“I was joking last night, Angel.”
“Well, it makes sense, okay?” The devil was frustrated. “Why else would they not be caught yet? In a town of what, 600 people?”
“You think the people are all in on it?” Power questioned.
“I think some of them know who the killer is, yeah. And I think they’re helping them.”
Aki looked at him quizzically. Maybe Angel was onto something, or maybe he still felt the sting of what the human said on the train. Either way, the hurt was done and they couldn’t foster any more from keeping an eye on the people of Levit.
“Alright, we treat everyone like a suspect. If you see anything or anyone acting suspicious, trail them.” The three hunters nodded as they listened to Aki. “But don’t stray too far. We have no idea what this killer is capable of.”
“Makima said they been eating people here!” Denji chimed, a disgusted look on his face. Angel tensed, feeling queasy at the thought.
“Maybe the killers are a bunch of hungry devils?” Power guessed. Aki hummed as he flicked his cigarette in the ashtray between him and Angel. The devil inhaled the smoke, the nicotine and acetone flooding his senses.
Better eat them before they eat you first.
“I don’t like not knowing. Feels like we’re in the dark.” Angel rested his head in his hand, tapping his other fingers on the table. His cheek squished against his hand, a pout on his lips as he swung his feet where he sat.
Aki took another drag of smoke, holding it in his lungs as he talked. “We complete the mission like we always do,” he exhaled, “and we don’t question it.”
“You don’t question it,” Angel muttered, shooting his eyes over at the man in front of him. Daylight shone on his face, hues of pale yellow that made his eyes gleam. The devil looked back down at the table, kicking his feet some more. He wanted to tell him that something wasn’t right, that Makima was leaving out too much information than usual. That it made no sense that the four of the strongest hunters were sent to the middle of nowhere while the rest of the division stayed in the cities. Angel wanted to tell Aki he was blinded by Makima, that they all were, but instead, he put his head down.
“Let’s head out soon. Denji and I can ask around. Power and Angel, you two keep a safe distance. Look around and see what you find or hear.”
“Aye aye, Hayakawa!” The two kids mock-saluted and went to gear up.
Aki ashed his cigarette and left it in the tray. Angel couldn’t help but speak up.
“I just have a bad feeling, that’s all,” he spoke softly, wanting to reach out to the man but kept his hands twisting in his lap. Aki looked at him almost sympathetically. “I’m worried. After everything, after…” He trailed off, his stomach lining on fire. Angel had been good, so good. He used to be selfish, used to pretend that no one meant anything to him. Until comrades started to drop like flies. He watched people important to Aki die, and before he knew it, they were important to him too. He didn’t want to be consumed with it, with caring, but it was too late.
“Yeah. I know.” Aki was cold and Angel was incandescent.
“Aki, we’ve lost so much.”
“Didn’t think you cared.”
“Of course I fucking care.”
Aki stumbled on his words, unsure what to say next. The devil in front of him was unrecognizable. He remembered back when Angel couldn’t be bothered with acting serious on missions. When risks seemed higher than they were now and it never mattered to him. But he looked at Angel now and saw something small behind the iridescence of his wings shielding him.
“You’ve changed.”
“You haven’t.”
They looked at each other from across the table, a thin veil of smoke between them. The two felt universes apart. Aki stood up first, pocketing his pack of tobacco and lighter. He turned his back to the man still sitting, securing his weapons as he headed for the door.
Aki didn’t wait for him. Angel didn’t follow.