Having vented my anger, I went on a hunt. Just a hunt, just to quell my hunger. I was leaving with company, and I was about to experience another stranger's bed. Again. And that night, lust wasn't enough. I wanted to kill him.

  Tall, handsome, too grown up to hook up with some like me.

  For long, burning with lust, I let him torment me, savouring my lips and the disturbing sweetness of my young skin. I was the poison he drank willingly.

  'You're driving me crazy, Vic,' he repeated, 'you're driving me crazy...'

  I smiled and reached for another cigarette with my vicious mouth, interrupting the torturous batch of caresses. Once I'd had my fill, I asked him the usual question. A question he probably didn't need to answer anymore.

  ‘Do you want to know what the real fall is?’

  Closing my eyes, I heard the answer before it rolled off his tongue. I've heard it many times.

  ‘Yeah, boy, I want you ...’

  Pausing, I looked once more into his eyes, sore from the sleepless night. He recoiled. He began to realize. By my gaze, where the hellfire was already burning unconcealed. By the mocking expression on my face. With a smirk, I pushed him down. Into the abyss.

  I did not even accompany him, letting him make the journey alone. I knew that he would not get lost, would not pass the gates of Saint Ferno. I heard his last desperate cry.

  As I lit a cigarette, I touched his body. What was left of him was but a pitiful shell, devoid of a soul. He groaned and covered his eyes with his hands.

  I watched him for a while, then put out the cigarette butt and began to dress. I rarely took men like him. It was just a burst of aroused anger. I didn't care about him.

  ‘Don't go,’ he moaned, ‘don't go!’

  I knew he was scared. He didn't yet understand what he'd lost, but he was scared of a frightening sense of emptiness. I knew what awaited him - a long desperate wandering around the earth looking for himself, remembering me and fading away.

  Then he would die. After perhaps many more years. And his soul, clad in fine, sensual flesh, will be tormented by incubuses and other evil things until he becomes one of the city's annoying ghosts. And I was beginning to forget about him. I was calm now.

  Does his fate frighten you? Do you want to know what awaits you in Saint Ferno if ever the love of an incubus takes you there? How amusing is humanity's desire to know its future. You can't resist the unknown, and that's your greatest weakness. It's ironic. Your insecurity had bred all your most fearful evil. You've opened so many doors for us. And you did it yourself.

  But I’ll tell you the details. I can lie, though. Alistair taught me that. But you won't know the fine line between the truth and the Fallen One's devious charms, so don't try. Just trust the venom of my words.

  You'll like it there. Hell always has cheap booze and drugs. Affordable whores will desire your love. The rock stars who died for you give concerts here every night and the night never ends. A drunken night full of vice and moans of pleasure. If you learn not to want more, you will love this place. If you learn to take but not to be satiated, Saint Ferno will reveal all its charms.

  And you'll have to forget. Forget who you were before. To accept the dark side as the only one. Because if you start remembering, you'll get tired. And when you're tired, you'll know longing. You will move from one underworld place to another and seek. And your memory will seek you out.

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  Well, that's unlikely to come that far. You always, always, absolutely always get satiated. You always, always start wanting more. And then hell becomes hell for you. What you expect it to be. Misery, suffering, doubt. The longing to return. To a source that doesn't exist. To a faded picture of your previous existence, to – please forgive me my laugh –THE paradise you make of it.

  Is there a way back to whatever you think it is? Probably. There are thousands of roads, woven together like a tangle of snakes. But not one of them is marked. And people can't enjoy falling into the unknown. Most stay here in Saint Ferno, preferring to be a ghost in a world they know.

  Not a bad choice, however. Within its walls is the realm of the sweetest whores in hell. Here one comes in search of fun and love, oblivion and the cruelty of a continuous night.

  I remember one evening Alistair took me into the city. We wandered its tangled streets for a long time, enjoying its chaos. We had recently made love and now we were just strolling without purpose, our hands occasionally touching.

  I asked him the first question that came to mind.

  ‘Why Saint Ferno? What’s about this name?’

  He smiled, sat down on the pavement, and drew me to him. I was ready to listen.

  ‘This city is named after Ferno, Saint Ferno, who founded it. As you might guess, he was a Fallen. A mere incubus creates nothing. They only have fun and drink without measure.’

  ‘I know,’ I grinned, as I had become more than intimate with many of them by then.

  ‘So, and Ferno was a Fallen. The very first Fallen in Hell, they say. His lover was the Devil himself. He saw this angel standing at the altar in one of the temples of heaven. They say he was extremely gorgeous. Almost as gorgeous as you,’ Alistair kissed me and continued. ‘Our proud overlord went crazy. He thrashed about in the underworld, and the demons fled away in terror. Then, for the first time in a long time, he dared to go up. They had but a moment before the gates closed. And that was enough. This shameless child of heights stepped into his arms, himself. You could say they both seduced each other.

  Ferno was insane. No less insane than the Devil himself. Their passion was devastating even for hell. Torn between love and hate, they burned half of the abyss, turning it into a desert. To save what was left, Ferno decided to stop. He chose this place and founded a city. A whole city of fun for himself and his lover. He chose the most beautiful of the incubuses and settled them here. Many born afterward were his children. They do not have the twist of the Fallen, but they have his blood in them. They will never know peace or grow old. Ferno arranged every damn thing to his liking, and it was him, who begun to bring humans. Eager for new experiences, he started drinking souls. Believe me, there was no one who could say no to him. Some can refuse me, some can even refuse you – if they’re strong enough. But there was no one who could refuse Saint Freno. He was incredibly beautiful and incredibly powerful.’

  ‘What happened to him?’ I asked after a moment, breathless.

  Alistair shrugged in a grunt.

  ‘He left. One day he abandoned his lord's bed and left. No one knows why or where. Even the Devil doesn't know which road Ferno took. The Overlord never appeared in Saint Ferno again either. He had ordered all reminders of his lover destroyed, but his city had never been encroached upon. Perhaps he's still waiting for Ferno to show up. From time to time, rumours fly that one or another Wanderer has met him. To touch the hem of his clothes is considered great fortune. And so, even though this city is already too small for everyone here, no one wants to change anything. If even a stone is moved here, the lustre of this place will fade. Loving the Fallen is a curse. You never know what to expect. One moment you're here, the next only Ferno knows where. But I'm not about to let you go. You hear me?’ he shook me by the shoulder, bringing me back to reality. ‘I will find you wherever you go.’

  ‘I got it, Alistair,’ I said, biting the filter of my cigarette in thought. ‘I'm not going to leave, I love you, you know.’

  ‘Ferno used to love too.’

  ‘Listen,’ I poked him in the side, ‘haven't any of the images remained? I don't believe the Devil destroyed everything.’

  Alistair grimaced. I kissed his palm pleadingly and ran my hand under his belt. He arched up and closed his eyes.

  ‘There's a place,’ he gritted, ‘Ferno's last gift to this city. He built a sort of temple in his own honour. A mockery of himself and his lord. It's usually empty. The Devil, out of jealousy, forbade anyone to go there. But that ban has already become outdated...’

  ‘Will you show me?’ I leaned over his knee, unbuttoning his jeans.

  ‘Maybe. I was there once...’

  ‘So my father in hell is a criminal? It turns me on…’

  I was really burning with desire, so I forgot about this mysterious dark saint for a while...