Perfect Day

It was a beautiful day, warm but not hot, sunny but not glaring. Beautiful. On a deck chair at the end of the dock sat Devon, drinking in the serene splendour of a perfect day.

A thought drifted up through the stillness. I should have done this more often.

But there was little time for regrets and should-haves. Now was the time to make the most, to bask in the glory of the world one last time. To make it all worth it.

He closed his eyes, and let his hand drift down to the cold beer beside him. The warm sun permeated his eyes, filling him with a warm orange glow down to his core. The beer was crisp and cold, a perfect balance.

Perfect.

"Ahem." Came the clearing of a throat behind him. Devon didn't need to open his eyes, he recognized that polite cough.

"Beautiful day, isn't it?" He asked, taking another sip of his drink.

"Mmm." Came the uncomfortable reply. Devon heard feet shuffling behind him.

Silence fell for some time. Devon refused to let it bother him, and continued enjoying his drink.

The figure behind him cleared its throat again.

"Al, you can clear your throat from here to judgement day. I'm not getting up until you make me." Devon shifted comfortably in the chair and smiled. Make every second count.

"Devon, I..." Al began. His feet shuffled uncomfortably again. He stopped.

Devon drank deep.

He heard Al move, and the warm sunlight disappeared. The orange glow was gone. Devon opened his eyes to see the form of Alistair, dressed sharply in a tailored suit before him. His characteristic confidence was lacking though. He was clutching his hands nervously. Devon cocked his head.

"Al you look like you've just seen a ghost. What's wrong?" Devon's voice showed the faintest trace of genuine concern, which surprised even himself.

At the mention of a ghost, Alistair froze momentarily. He looked into Devon's eyes, but found no inkling of prior knowledge. So his hands wrung nervously some more.

"I have been instrucrted... to make you an... offer." Alistair stumbled out. He cleared his throat again.

Devon cocked his head again, and smiled. That's new.

"You?"

"Me."

"An offer... to me?" Devon poked his own chest, and raised an eyebrow.

"Indeed."

Silence hung between the two, while Devon thought.

"What, was Gabe busy?" He joked.

Alistair's face was stone.

Devon's smile faded.

"OK, I'll bite. What's the offer?" Devon shrugged. He got the impression that he wouldn't have much choice one way or the other anyway.

Alistair turned, and stepped out of the light. He let the sun bathe him, and drank in the same beautiful day that Devon had just been enjoying. The sun was perfect. A perfect day. He let its rays caress Devon once again, for effect.

"More of this." Alistair swept his arm across the vista before them, and looked to Devon.

Devon allowed himself to bask a little more before he spoke.

"In exchange for...?" He prompted, looking to Alistair.

Alistair's face took on a hint of sadness. He reached under his arm, and drew a spear from no-where. It glittered in the sun, a silvered tip and polished black shaft. He held it out lengthwise to Devon, and spoke a single name.

"Belethemnon."

Devon was shocked. He stared at the weapon. He hadn't seen one up close since... His eyes drifted up to Alistair's face, to see if he was serious. It was like looking at a stern statue.

Devon stood, pushing the deck chair back. This was no small task. Belethemnon was... well if they couldn't do it themselves... And they wanted an inside man...

The polished black of the spear was like looking into the depths of space. It glistened with immortality and sparkled with a thousand galaxies of possibility. It was as painful to look at as the memories it brought forth. He closed his eyes.

And in doing so, the warm orange glow returned. The sun was still there, to fill him with that perfect light. To bring him that serenity that he wanted, so badly.

He opened his eyes again, and the spear was still there. Alistair had not moved a hair.

Devon sighed, and drained his beer. He tossed it into the deck chair behind him. Fuck it.

He reached out and put his hand on the weapon, and behind him his ruined wings spread wide and black. He nodded to Alistair his agreement.

Alistair nodded in return, and released it.

"I am... sorry, brother." Alistair spoke.

"I know." Replied Devon, taking the spear in two hands and wondering how he was going to kill a Prince of Death.