The noise woke him, which, given he didn’t usually have to deal with noise—unless he generated it—grabbed his attention.

Did the surface dwellers not realize he napped?

He liked his naps. It was so nice to just relax. Not a care in the world. A very tiny controlled world with just one entity.

Me.

Boring.

Shut up. He had a voice inside him. It often argued, especially when he napped for a long while.

His longest slumber had lasted three days. He did so like to close his eyes and float. Especially after a large meal.

You need to stop fattening that ass.

Nothing wrong with the massive girth of his body. Size always mattered, and only small creatures claimed it didn’t.

Then a bigger predator ate them.

They’d eaten Darwin, too, right after he spouted that obvious logic.

Are you going to do something?

Do what? There was that irritating inner voice, telling him to do stuff when all he wanted to do was shut his eyes again.

According to the plummeting shriek, his naptime was about to end.

With a jaw-cracking yawn, he rolled onto his back and opened an eye, only to have to quickly reach out to catch the falling object before it hit him in the face.

The shrill noise didn’t stop. You’d think the creature he’d caught would be relieved that he’d stopped them from giving him a black eye or a bruised nose.

Nobody had respect anymore, especially not humans. He knew his history, even if he couldn’t remember his childhood. Couldn’t remember much more than his name.

He also remembered some vague rule being quoted as “Don’t eat humans.”

Probably because they were noisy and would taste sour.

The cacophony from the human he’d caught intensified into almost intelligible sobs. “Ohmygod. IthoughtIwouldsquish. Iamnotsquished. Ohmygod. WhyamInotsquished.” Then, more slowly and thoughtfully, “Why does it smell like Uncle Fred down here?”

The babble almost made sense, and that kind of worried him. Had he finally lost his mind after all this time?

You are perfectly sane.

I am? Awesome. Good to know.

You are so sane that you know the right thing is to let me handle this.

Handle what? The human. He could handle a mere human. Starting with gagging it maybe. It still talked, and smelled kind of rank.

Had humans stopped bathing again? The history books spoke of the ancient humans rarely letting soap and water scrub their skin.

Peasants.

Which, according to cookbooks, were quite delicious if roasted under the right conditions.

I don’t eat humans.

Yet. He didn’t fear trying new things.

Raising the captured human, he squinted via the tiniest slit at it. It had all the requisite parts. Two arms, two legs, a mop of hair. His massive hand wrapped around its waist, keeping it aloft but facing away.

Not that he could have truly deciphered anything distinct. The pit was dark. An abyss with no light.

What he saw appeared as shadows nesting within darkness. Very relaxing—until a human entered it and kept yapping.

It would take only a single twist.

Don’t you dare. We should find out why the human was sent.

Good point. Usually, the humans that made it to his pit came dressed in sealed suits, armed with tranquilizers. He appreciated that they were bathed and ready for al fresco dining. Unless they peed. He wasn’t crazy about marinated meat.

Not meat. Look properly.

Look at what? There wasn’t much to see. Covering the dirty body, a shapeless gown, the type that gaped at the back. Pale skin peeked through in spots. Unmarked. Unseasoned.

No eating!

He ignored the mental shout and kept observing. The slender shape had plenty of curves, but it could have used a little more, especially if they’d sent it for lunch.

How can you think of eating when I know you’re still full?

True, his stomach didn’t grumble with hunger yet. He’d really enjoyed the fresh beef they’d dropped for him. Once he was done with it anyway—crispy on the outside, rare on the inside.

Delicious.

And quiet.

“Ohmygod, it’s a giant eyeball!” she squeaked.

Yes, a she. Because the enemies of the nap wished to thwart him with the vilest punishment imaginable. A noisy female.

You won’t win, enemies of the nap. I will go back to sleep.

He could and would ignore the shrill female, especially since she obviously did not recognize perfection. It insulted him so deeply.

More disturbing, why did the pitch of her voice tickle him with familiarity?

Do I know her?

She obviously didn’t recognize him if she thought he was just one eyeball. He had two for starters.

Great big fucking eyeballs.

Check these out. He trilled in mirth as he opened his other lid, and she shrieked. “Fuck me. You have two eyes.”

Oh, look, the human could count. Could she also shut up? And what vulgarity. Ladies didn’t cuss.

At this stage, can you afford to be picky?

His crazy inner voice might have a point. But he would not tolerate the caterwauling.

“Be quiet.” He thought the words to her, not expecting much. Humans were usually deaf to his voice.

To his surprise, she stilled. Coincidence? “Did you hear me?”

“You spoke. How is it you can speak?” She whispered the words.

“Yes, I spoke. It’s what evolved species do. And I will add, my kind has been doing it for a lot longer than yours.”

“What are you?”

It didn’t surprise him that she didn’t know. His race did a good job of hiding themselves in plain sight. It made the revelation all the sweeter. “Guess.” And while she thought about it, perhaps he’d figure out why something about her seemed familiar. It certainly wasn’t her smell.

She smelled like a person shut in a box for too long without access to water. Very unappetizing.

But…fascinating.

It had been a while since he recalled anything interesting. Even that tuna they’d tossed down a while ago paled in comparison—and he’d loved the tuna. Big and raw, still smelling of the sea.

“How am I supposed to guess? It’s freaking pitch black down here except for your freakishly huge eyes.”

“They are not freakish.” Beautiful. Captivating. He’d seen them. He knew there was a long list of adjectives for them.

“Says the freak.”

“Insulting me isn’t in your best interest.” He might have growled the words at her. And his inner voice laughed.

“Are you going to eat me? Because I’ll warn you right now, I am sour.”

“And noisy. I prefer quiet meals.”

“Well excuse me for being alive.”

He was taken aback by the sass. What fire. He might have chuckled, except in his current shape, it emerged more like a deep rumble. “Why were you dropped on me?”

“Who says anyone dropped me? Maybe I just thought it would be fun to skydive without a parachute down a hole and hope I hit something soft.”

“I am not soft.” He was made of strong stuff.

“If you say so, marshmallow.”

Again, the urge to chuckle hit, and he exhaled sharply. His size diminished. As he relaxed, his other side took advantage, pulling with mental hands, trying to take control. Nope.

“Why are you really here?” Part of that question came from his other half. Sarcasm aside, she hadn’t jumped, which meant the human had been sent down for a reason.

“This was my punishment for refusing to sleep with someone.” She growled and peered upward. He could have told her not to bother. This shaft was sunk deep. So very, very deep.

And he loved it. He had absolutely no interest in the world out there. It had nothing he wanted.

Or does it? Every so often, a hazy image or phrase would hit him. He’d wonder for a moment where it came from. Then he’d nap again. Better to forget.

It’s better down here. Quiet.

Alone.

Peaceful and relaxing.

Alone.

Shut up.

“Are you still there?”

“What kind of stupid question is that?” he asked with a hint of incredulity. “You do realize you’re still lying on me.”

“Hard to miss given you’re quite large.”

His chest swelled, causing her to slide. He caught her. “Thank you.” Always nice when the humans recognized greatness. “And now back to your abrupt arrival. You’ve invaded my space.”

“I didn’t exactly have a choice.”

“You did have a choice, but you let your morals get in the way. Perhaps you should rethink them.”

“I might have been born on the wrong side of the swamp, but that doesn’t make me loose.”

The swamp? I used to love the stories about the bayou. The ones in those books. They arrived wrapped in brown paper full of vivid images. Passages were highlighted with notes in the margins. Looks like Uncle Lou’s place. There was the house on stilts, swampy marsh underneath, with a boat tied to a wooden jetty. It said, My idea of a perfect home.

The elusive revelation floated through his thoughts, evocative and teasing because he couldn’t recall who had given him the books. He couldn’t remember anything.

And for the first time, he wondered why.

Why was his mind such a blank slate? A wealth of knowledge but nothing personal.

Until now.

Why does she sound so familiar?

Sound wasn’t something he had down here. No television. No radio. Nothing to mar his serenity. He rolled to his side and sat up. This room was the closest one to his stash, big enough to allow this form.

“I take it you’re not going to apologize?”

“For what?”

“Implying I was a whore.”

“You made the claim. I just didn’t argue.”

“Dick. I hope you choke on me and die.”

“I would rather starve than eat you. You smell.”

“I don’t care if you are the size of a whale. You’re a jerk.” A teeny tiny fist slammed him.

He was really beginning to wonder why he didn’t eat her. At least then she’d be quiet.

And I’d be alone.

She lived for the moment.

He closed his eyes.

She stopped talking.

Fascinating. Snore.

Poke. He ignored the jab of her tiny finger.

Poke. Poke. “Open your eyes.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m sleeping.”

“No you’re not because you’re talking to me.”

“I will be sleeping as soon as you shut up.” Did she not understand how this worked?

“But it’s dark in here. Freakish as your eyes are, at least they light up.”

“I am not your personal lamp service.” Really, the effrontery boggled the mind. “And since you’re so unhappy—and vocal—about it, perhaps you should be on your way.”

“On my way where? Is there an exit?”

“I don’t suppose you can climb?”

“Are we really going to pretend to be having this conversation? These arms don’t do any kind of exercise apart from yoga.”

“Are you always so sarcastic?”

“Yes.”

He relaxed even more and shrank a bit. His other self was truly reeling in the reins, and he was having a hard time stopping him. There was something about this human… Something so strangely familiar.

“You are vexing. I can see how you ended up in here.”

“Vexing is not a reason to throw a person in a pit with a giant, um… Elephant?”

She hesitated before saying it. That didn’t lessen the blow.

“You are surely jesting.” For one, he was much larger.

“Well, you smell kind of dry, and your skin is scaled yet kind of leathery at the same time.”

“My hide is the rarest you will find.” And silky smooth, too, if stroked just right.

“Are you offended?” She laughed. “I didn’t mean any of that in a bad way. You are just different.”

Indeed he was—because there existed only one of him.

And only one of her. For some reason, that seemed important.

“Who are you?”

“The girl who made bad choices.” She sighed. “Ever wish you could have a do-over?”

No.

But was that really the answer? How could he know when he remembered nothing?

Remember the promise.

What promise?

“You haven’t said who you rejected.” He could guess, though. Only one person he knew didn’t handle the word no very well. From what he’d seen, Samael had no morals whatsoever. Then again, neither did he. It was why no one came down here anymore.

Because none ever returned to the top.

They should have left me alone. I no longer have anything I care about. Nothing they could truly threaten him with.

Wrong. There is one thing. He just couldn’t remember what it was.

“Do you know Samael?” she asked.

A heavy snort shook him. “Who do you think put me here?”

Actually, it wasn’t all Samael. Anastasia and that wolf pet of hers had a part in it, too. Once they realized they couldn’t control him, they’d contained him.

But the only reason they can contain me is because I made a deal.

What deal?

There was an important reason he remained down here. Alone. Quietly doing nothing.

Had he mentioned alone?

Not anymore.

He set the woman on the ground, gently. No use tenderizing her flesh prematurely, especially since he’d not made up his mind about eating her.

Maybe she’d smell more appetizing after a good scrubbing.

Her hand reached out and tapped him in the lower belly. He allowed it because who didn’t want to touch greatness?

It’s why I touch myself.

But he hadn’t in a long time. Short arms.

Still, an ability to masturbate wasn’t a reason to let the other side take over.

Despite her claim to dislike him, the woman leaned close, close enough that he felt her shiver. “How can you live like this? In the dark with no room to move around?”

“I find this relaxing.” So many things were better in the dark. His other senses had a chance to truly discern the world for him. Smell became key. Sounds, too. And feel. The way the air touched him could tell him so much.

But sometimes those senses could blind him. Because, despite her familiarity, he couldn’t place the woman.

Who. Is. She?

It nagged. So he peeked with his other sight, opening his eyes and filtering his eyelids so that he observed on a dimension that viewed the auras around living things.

She had none.

No aura. Just a smudge as if something covered it. Was her aura cloaked?

He heard a sniffle.

A hiccup.

Some other hitching sound.

What’s this? The little human cried. “Don’t do that.”

“I can’t help it.” Hiccup. “I’m scared of the dark. Uncle used to put me in the dark when I wouldn’t behave. Not a single piece of light, for hours on end.” The soft admission hit him, and he frowned.

He might not know much, but he knew one thing. “That’s not a proper thing for an uncle to do.”

“My uncle wasn’t a very proper man.” She still hitched her words, and it bothered him that she would fear when in the presence of the greatest being there was.

“There is nothing to fear here.”

“Isn’t there? It’s too dark for me to even see what you are.”

Could she not smell his greatness? He could smell so many layers in her: anxiety, weariness, body odor in need of some chemical help. All of it, though, seemed to say—remember me.

My life for hers.

The words came to him and floated off just as quickly. They belonged in that dark hole that hid his memories.

The mere implication of the promise caused levels of adrenaline to spike. She’s dangerous to me. He should have crushed her the moment she arrived. She was trouble. She was…

The reason I didn’t fight.

The hand on his belly rubbed. “Is this all there is down here? Just a dark hole and you?” Tremulous, the words held such choking despair.

Pity welled in him. He was magnanimous enough to allow it, even though he shrank a little more. His time was coming to an end. “If you insist on having some light, then move along the wall to your left. Enter the first tunnel and follow it.”

“Follow it where? Into another pit where I can fall to my death?”

“If I wanted you dead, I’d eat you.”

“Great Uncle Herbert used to say the same thing. So one day, cousin Jorjie asked him if he ever ate someone for real.”

“And? Did he?” He oddly wanted to know.

“Auntie whacked him with her purse before he could reply. So we never found out.”

He only barely saw the lift and drop of her shoulders as she inched along the wall. It was fairly dark in here, even with all his special senses. She presented a moving shadow within a deeper cloak of darkness.

What was she really doing here? He didn’t understand why she’d been sent. Did Samael want to trick him somehow? But then again, how would that work?

Samael had to know his first instinct would be to kill. It was why he was in this pit prison, after all.

Lack of cooperation.

Killing of staff.

He knew enough to know he was here because of choices he’d made. He even remembered some of the blood.

What he didn’t remember was ever showing clemency. Why hadn’t he let her splat? What if he’d not been in the pit at all? Would Samael still have tossed her?

All good questions, but the ones plaguing him most? Who was she, and why did he feel like he knew her?

She disappeared from sight into the smaller tunnel that wouldn’t accommodate his current size.

I should follow.

Let her go. She’d be fine.

I need to know more about her.

Or he could have another nap.

He closed his eyes. Shut them tight. Took a few steady breaths.

La-di-da-di-da. Wonder what she is doing.

He didn’t care.

Maybe she’s touching our stuff.

Who cared? It was junk.

Perhaps she has some answers.

Maybe he should leave well enough alone. There was probably a reason he couldn’t remember.

It’s time.

Time for what?

Stop arguing and take a break. A real break and let me drive for bit.

Fine. He could use a good nap.

He changed shape. Took all that lovely power and strength and compressed it into an itty-bitty two-legged body.

Argh. You’re squishing me.

Go to sleep.

It felt good to be in charge again, especially since things had gotten rather interesting. He followed the girl, knowing the path so well he could walk it with his eyes closed. Today, though, he tread it with his eyes open, and the gradual lightening of the tunnel meant that his eyes slowly adjusted so that, when he entered the larger room, he could see his visitor more clearly.

He knew those eyes, that nose.

Forget. I am supposed to forget.

He didn’t recognize the straw-pile hair and smell, but he knew that face.

Angel.

Who is angel?

Everything.

All his breath whooshed out in one sucker-punch as a very distinct memory surfaced.

It’s her. She’s really here. The angel who’d come to him so long ago. The woman who used to be the leverage to keep the beast contained. The one he’d bargained to forget.

And he had. Until now.

But now, she was in front of him. In the flesh.

Beautiful, lovely flesh.

His at last.

In that moment of recognition, her eyes widened. “You,” she huffed, her eyes narrowed. “You bastard!”

Instead of running to throw her arms around him, she whirled and grabbed something and then, just as quickly, threw it.

He easily dodged the butter knife.

Something else came flying just behind, the three tines an insult to his prowess. “A fork?” That made him laugh.