I walk through columns upon columns of white marble. My cascading onyx hair falls in waves of dark abbess. My dress hangs loose yet uniform around my ivory curved figure. My charcoal eyes search every inch of the silver and golden interior of Heaven’s palace. God and the other six archangels await me. Gabriel, in his royal silken robe, greets me with measured indifference, barely masking his hate. His wild brunette hair contrasts with his purple eyes. I never liked purple.

“Lucifer, you’re late,” he sneers.
“Again,” Raphael chimes in allowing our fellow angels to chuckle and mock at my expense.
A growl comes short from the pink swell of my lips as God turns his mocha face to us, a midnight haired brow rising, “Is this aggression I feel?” asks He. I gulp and look down from the vibrant green of his eyes casting disapproving glances. I love green. His ebony curls bounce in front of his eyes framing his face. His firm and lean body clad in humble white robes. Funny how the man who made the world prefers simple human cotton to the fine silks and woven gold the angels wear.
I bow my head in shame, “Forgive me my lord. I have not been myself of late.”
This catches his interest with strange curiosity, “Why is this, my child? You are always of high spirits.”
Gulping I look around before planting my gaze at last to the marble floor. It is because my love for you is a sin.
“Boredom my lord, I wish for more tasks.” I lie. I hate this mundane job. Why must these humans be helped? They are filthy and pathetic; what worthless existences! But how do you tell the man you love that his children are worthless? You don’t.
He looks on with amusement. He has no doubt seen though my lie, though he will not say such a thing out loud. He will not call me out on such a thing. He knows I hate this existence. Their existence; but he knows I try, that I do the job that I so heavily loathe with utmost perfection. Any less would be unacceptable. It is thus that he sends us to our duties, my heart falling at my fate as an archangel.
I look upon these humans with hefty hatred and no remorse. They disgust me with their filthy tainted ways. They hurt the innocent, kill their own kind and even forsake their own creator. They should destroy the evil in their world not punish those pure hearts. My blood boils at the display of human kind and as I watch I realize what I must do. I must do what God will not. Rid his land of the sick and allow only the pure and strong to survive.
It is then that I begin my descent to the human world with my hounds Erebus and Argo. Forever faithful they help reap the vile souls of the dead. For those souls not good enough for heaven I cast into the center of the earth. A place where lava seeps from the cracks and boils forth with soul burning fire that touches the dead. Perfect, retribution is slowly being paid.
Soon chaos comes from the human world in forms of murderers and tainted souls. People are abandoning God! They have turned away because life had become peaceful. They feel they do not need their God’s protection. Well that has to be fixed. Leaving the pits of fire I created three haggard and ghoulish women, all heinous and ugly but they are not meant to be seen. They are created to serve; they work without question and without hesitation or remorse. From the land I roam searching for ways to make my lords rule once again powerful. It is not long until I find a weakness in the humans living. Living on top of each other allows for sickness to be a danger. It is from this knowledge I bring forth plagues of rats and diseases incurable to the vile race of human scum.
Try, they give it no mind at first. It is not until death knocked at every door and plague touched every drop of water that they begin to fret. I know the humans, being a foolish lot, will not understand the means for the sickness so I send prophets to speak the word of God and my creation of fire for tainted souls. They called it ‘Hell’. What a strange name but fitting I suppose. I am going to ease their suffering, but no. Instead of taking to my head the worthless idiots shun my prophets and ignore my laws set down by the lord. This is enough to set me aflame.
“You persistent pests do not wish for the lovely feasts and wine at God’s table? Fine, starve then. Perish like the ungrateful vermin you are,” I sneer in growing hatred that burns my eternal soul. It is in this hatred that brings forth locusts from the underbelly of my ‘Hell’, which ravages and devours the crops and food. Those locusts of my creation allow me to find more worth in them than anyone of these retched souls. They, at least, feel gratitude towards their creator and all that I bless upon them.
Finally, the humans learn, their hearts turning to my well-nourished prophets and healthy followers sent to preach of the lord. Apparently they can be taught. Now as they give their souls to God, he will save their miserable after lives. Yes, turn to the lord humans, for he is your only hope. I am not. I will not save you. Turn to God, Your humble faithful lord, for I am not he.
It takes little time for God to catch wind of his new found masses and welcome them with open arms. He even goes down to Earth himself to heal the sick and dying. He replenishes the land and becomes a shining star in his children’s eyes once again. He is happier now, much more up lifted. This touches me. However, something is changing. He looks upon me with... sadness? He stares into my reddening eyes, my shameful soot hair; even my skin has reddened due to the blood that pours from bleeding souls of the condemned. He knows. He knows what I have done, but he does nothing. He does not punish me, though I wish that he would. I cannot stand the look of distain on my lord’s face. He is my everything; my creator, my savior and even my love...
Due to the pain his gazes give me I avoid the palace. I become fearful of God’s saddened and disproving eyes. I care not about the other angels. No. they can get their wings burned for all I care, but God? Now he I fear. I fear the look of disgrace and it is only proper that I avoid disgracing him further. I shall simply await my time. For it is coming. Only a fool could not see. My time will soon end and my lord will cast me away. These thoughts bring piercing tears pricking at my eyes as I stare out to the vastness of the clouds. How beautiful this home of mine is. And it is on this night that I hold it with a feeling I only have towards my lord himself.

Days and nights pass and it is on one cold night that the warmth of God knocks upon my door. I open it with a hesitant smile on my lips as he leads me to the altar. No one is around and it seems in my final moments here it will be with only us. I wouldn’t want it any other way.
He moves close and I am eager to meet him half way. I am still as his hand moves over my heated skin loosening my dress baring my red flesh slightly. Taking the leather bounds of the altar, tightly I am tied to it. Touching my wings the lord appears to bask in their blackness. They flutter against the stark white marble of the altar, giving divine contrast. From his robes to my mouth is a biting board. This makes me gulp. I’m going to be in pain.
He orders me to turn and as I do so his hand, large and warm grips my wings with force. I wince and erupt into smothered screams as my lord tears out the feathers of my once luscious wings. It hurts so bad... tears sear my flesh as they fall from my eyes. It was as he kisses at my wings do they crack and break, restructuring.
“Look and watch your transformation,” he demands of me.
I open my eyes at the marbled refection. He for me has created wings like velvet draped over wrought iron frames. They’re beautiful... My soft lord whispers soothing words telling me he will continue at my pace. I allow him to litter kisses over my back where the wings and my flesh meet. It is a bloody mess. Sighing I nod for Him to continue. From my head pain erupts and I bite hard into the wood almost breaking it. Horns grow in glossy black spirals and a red spiked tail grows from my lower back. It burns and scars me. I accept the pain my lord gives me. The pain my lord is giving just to me.

“So beautiful I have made you. You will no longer be an angel of heaven,” he whispers, his lips to my piercing ear. I shiver at his voice. My god is complementing my new body, I will cherish it. The first she-devil is born.

My breath comes out breathlessly as the pain slowly ebbs away. My lord helps me from my binds and the board pierced and broken by my new glossy fangs. It is at last with one soft and painful kiss I am thrown from heaven. Tossed to the human world and to the ‘Hell’ I’ve created. Yes, Hell, my beautiful, beautiful Hell.
That was 500 years ago and here am I still in my demonic palace of death and ire. The heat of my palace burns my crimson skin, the clothes I have impervious to the heat. The flames no longer hurt and the scars no longer visible. Well, all but one black burn on my plump lips. A sharp image of a cross burned and scared into flesh from Gods searing kiss. What a passionate fire my lord has. How beautiful would it be to snuff it out? The voices I’ve acquired wonder.

It is now however, that in my palace full of tortured souls and servants, forever trapped in limbo littering my home, that I have a guest. One I had not seen in many centuries. My eyes glow with fire, my excitement over whelming me. They slit like a snakes and my blackened tongue licks my red and burned lips, it rolls over my fangs as I turn. I turn around to the coffee colored man, my lord, the lord. Cast from his own palace and overthrown by those he once had trusted. It makes my damned soul burn when observing His fallen face and crescent moon lashes visible in the natural dim light of hell. He slumps in the bed-like sofa his disheveled robes pulled back from the span of his dark velvet skin. Kisses and bloodied marks litter his beautiful body. He is sleeping so well. That is to be expected after our passionate reunion. However, I had never known of or expected his...rougher interests. His body relaxes only further with my hot touch, no doubt feeing my presence as I hover over him my hand running though his luscious curled mane. Its course and thick, exotic.

“Do not fear my lord. Even if your children have abandoned you, I shall not. Stay with me and soon your subjects will flock to you my lord. Flock like the spineless sheep-like followers they are. I will make sure of that.”

With that promise I drape a silken blanket over his broad and worn body, blowing out the very last candle. Darkness surrounds us, a darkness only my glowing red eyes penetrate, Eyes that will be after you shortly...