04-03-2011, 04:38 AM
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He narrowed his eyes. Of course he believed in the soul. His soul belonged to a demon. He was no mortal. He wouldn’t simply blink out and vanish when he died. He was meant for greater things. “Of course there’s a soul,” he said, tone cold.
“Perhaps you might be nothing more than dust and bone, but I’m something far greater than that,” he continued, unbridled arrogance rising in his voice. He was proud of who and what he was—his lineage both here on earth, and beyond. The angel had chosen him to appear before. The angel lived in his blood and in his bones, dictating his actions and using him as he saw fit.
He wasn’t mad—he was possessed.