You can also find the titular couple of Pride & Justice in Kinktober2023 and on Tumblr.

excerpt from Pride & Justice by Annika Sage Ellis

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Like wandering in a dream, Pride paced the little dirt path that wound around the grassy field. Humans went about their little human tasks, the human spawn shrieked and ran around the brightly colored plastic castle. They didn’t notice him, their eyes clouding with a convenient fog of forgetfulness when they tried. Pride swung his tail side to side while he aimlessly walked, painting a curious arc. He hadn’t been to Earth since… how long had it been?

A human man stomped down the footpath toward him. A deep scowl marred his face, leash clutched in a tight fist, attached to a bouncing straw-colored dog that couldn’t have been happier. The closer he got, a tingling sensation on the tip of Pride’s tongue grew. Appearing out of nowhere, a tart flavor washed through his mouth, puckeringly sour and saccharine sweet all at once. Pride grinned through the overwhelming taste, relishing a feeling long unfelt. The taste of the sin of pride, and a soul that needed a bit of a nudge down the stairs.

Pride stopped walking. The human approached, marching along with his dog, oblivious to the demon lying in wait. The closer he got, the stronger the sharp taste of his uncommitted sin. As if he wasn’t there at all, the man stalked right past Pride, not even sparing him a glance. Pivoting on his heel, Pride followed until they were step-in-step, until the smoke curling off his horns tickled the human’s nose. No reaction to that either. Pride forgot how fun it was to be able to hide in plain sight.

“Alright, buddy,” he said, giving the man a friendly clap on the shoulder. “What’s going on?”

For a split second, the man looked bewildered to be addressed. Pride pushed out with his tendrils of influence, latching onto the potential to sin that radiated from his soul. The confusion evaporated as his eyes flashed a crimson red, matching the glow of Pride’s and the flickering flames of Hell.

“Trouble in paradise,” the human grumbled, talking to him as if he were an old friend. “Can’t get two seconds into the weekend before my wife starts bombarding me with a list of chores to do.” The dog trotting at his heels whined, tugging on its leash. He made a harsh noise and pulled it back.

“She wants you to do chores?” Pride repeated. “After everything you do for the family already?”

“That’s what I said! I work all goddamn week to provide for my goddamn family—the least a guy can do is get a break every once in a while.”

“It’s awful that she can’t see everything you do for her. For your kids.”

“The kids—that’s another thing. She said I need to be spending more time with the kids, but how am I supposed to do that when she’s giving me all this extra work? I’m in the office enough as it is. For the family.”

“Isn’t that enough? You’re putting a roof over their heads, aren’t you?” 

“Not sure who’d be paying the bills without me, I’ll tell you that.”

“Exactly. And she’s not grateful? She wants you to do more work?” Pride clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “You’re not getting the appreciation you deserve, my friend.”

The dog barked, low and aggressive, tugging back on the leash again. “Hey!” the man barked back. “No, Butterscotch, sit.”

Butterscotch did not sit, stopping in its tracks and growling. Pride jumped in front of the human, putting space between himself and the animal that was too smart for its own good.

“You want to know what I think?” he asked, and the man faced him with rapt attention. “I think you should tell her everything you’re thinking. You’re the reason they have it so good. You don’t deserve to be treated with all this disrespect.”

“You know what I think?” the man asked in kind, digging his phone out of his pocket. “I think I will.”

And oh what a sweet thing it was for a sin to be realized and acted upon, to see a soul condemn itself in real time. Pride grinned ear to ear.

“And hey,” he said, leaning in to make one last suggestion, “just between us?”

The man paused, watching him intently. His dog barked and tugged.

Pride put a hand to the side of his mouth and pretended to whisper. “She’s kind of a bitch.”

Butterscotch tore free of its leash and lunged for him. Pride jumped off the path into the grass and snapped the cord of his power short. The red glow vanished.

Phone pressed to his ear, the man stopped seeing him, eyes clouding once again. The dog continued to bark up a storm, but aimlessly, unable to find the target it once despised. It wheeled all around searching, until the human jogged over, empty collar and leash dangling from his fist.

“Come here, Butterscotch,” he scolded. Butterscotch dashed to his feet, whining and hopping on its back legs. The man wrestled the collar back on, phone pinched between his ear and shoulder. “Yeah—I’m still here, honey, the dog got loose. ”

Pride slipped away, a new spring in his step. It had been so long since he flexed his muscles up here, face-to-face with potential sinners. All he had to do was convince them their worst instincts were good ideas, and suddenly there was nothing even God could do to stop them. It wasn’t even that hard. He forgot how much fun it was to urge them into their egos, to be the whisper in their minds, and disappear without a trace. As far as they knew, he never existed.

The plastic castle squatted in the distance, crawling with humans and their offspring. Teeming with potential, if Pride had to guess, for sins of all kinds. And as the root of all sin himself, how could he possibly refuse?

excerpt from Pride & Justice by Annika Sage Ellis

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Pride swung his tail over the side of the bench, stretched out on his back. It was bumpy and uncomfortable, but he’d take it over laying in the dirt. The clouds of smoke swirling from his horns put a gray haze over his view of the starry night sky. It didn’t bother him—stars didn’t hold all that much charm for him.

The one thing Pride definitely held was boredom. He never thought he’d get tired of pushing humans souls along the precipice of damnation, but the impossible inched close to becoming reality. He wanted to do something else—to go somewhere else. His options were annoyingly limited.

Earth sucked, he didn’t want to stay here anymore. If he never had to set foot in Hell again, it would be too soon. Trying to sneak into Heaven again was a recipe for getting dissolved to ashes before he reached the gates—there was no way they’d let their guard down so soon. Pride wasn’t sure he believed it, but even if Justice kept his promise and told everyone he was dead, the holy realm was nothing if not paranoid. So what was left? Purgatory?

Pride raked his hands down his face, pulling at his eyelids and stretching his cheeks. Making that contract was the stupidest thing he’d ever done.

A sweet-sour sting on his tongue interrupted his frustrated thoughts. There was a human around, maybe even a few, who had more than a little pent-up sin. Curious, Pride sat up to survey the park that had become his little domain.

The dim streetlamps that washed the park in gray light shadowed an entire group of humans. Young ones, by the looks of it, rolling toward the playground with excited confidence. They shoved each other, hooted, and cackled—all except one. A meek looking one hung far back in the group, arms crossed over a bulky sweatshirt. Pride folded his arms on the back of the bench, trying to figure out which one of them called his name.

“—gonna do it,” the leader of the group said, a duffel bag hanging off one shoulder.

“You don’t think so?” another taunted.

“No way, man, he’s too much of a pussy.”

One by one, the main group turned around to sneer at their straggler. He balled his fists up, and Pride quirked an eyebrow at the flavor that flooded over his tongue. Icy-hot wrath and tart pride at once.

“I’m not a pussy,” the straggler insisted.

“Then prove it,” demanded the leader. He shoved the bag into the meek one’s chest. “Pussy.”

There came the wave again. Every human in this posse tasted a little like sin—mostly pride, with wrath and envy sprinkled unevenly among them—but the clearly-marked outcast reeked of it. A deep-seated, suppressed anger bubbled under his skin, kept at bay by a sliver of willpower. Pride could help with that.

He slunk off the bench, prowling through the darkness to meet his target. The kid was on his knees in the grass, digging through the bag forced into his arms. All the others in his group watched, arms folded and sneering. Invisible to their eyes, Pride crouched down and peeked over his shoulder to see what all the fuss was about. A metal bat, a few switchblades, lighter fluid, and clunky tools heavy enough to do blunt damage. Even through the darkness, Pride saw the kid’s hands shaking as he sorted through it all.

“Hurry the fuck up,” the leader ordered.

“I’m going,” the kid said, and hastily grabbed the bat from the trove. He stood up, and Pride stood with him. “Now what?”

“Do the honors.” The leader stepped back, gesturing at the playground behind them. “Unless you’re gonna chicken out.”

The kid flushed with sin again, staring down all the expectant onlookers, but didn’t move. His face screwed up in determination, full of potential, but nothing came of it. All that beautiful sin would go to waste. Pride took the opportunity.

He slunk an arm around the kid’s shoulders, leaning in to murmur into his ear. “You’re really going to let him talk to you like that?” he asked. “You’re going to act like a coward in front of them all?”

“Fine,” the kid spat at his leader. He stalked past the group, bouncing the bat in his shaking hand, with Pride hot on his heels. The rest of them followed, closing in so there was no escape. Pride felt the string of his influence waver with every step they took.

“You can’t back down now,” he insisted, feeding the impulse he’d tasted mere seconds ago. “Not unless you want to prove them all right.”

“I won’t,” the kid muttered. He stopped at one of the plastic slides and reeled back with the bat. He stopped at the peak of his swing. The hesitation threatened to snap the thread altogether. Pride went for the kill.

“What would she think, if she found out how much of a pansy you are?”

The cord of his influence tightened to steel. The kid flared his nostrils, spurred to action, and swung the bat down—

“Excuse me, but I don’t think you’re supposed to be here.”

Pride’s ichor turned to ice. He and the humans whipped around at the same time, bearing witness to the most ridiculous thing that could have possibly happened that night.

“And I don’t think,” that stupid, fucking Angel of Justice said, duffel bag dangling from the strap in his hand, “that you’re supposed to have these either.”

“Scram!” the leader hissed.

“What?” asked the outcast, but it was too late.

All the humans scattered like frightened ants. Pride snapped his influence and ducked under the slide. Trying to avoid another dose of dumbass righteous fury, he circled around until he came under the shade of a tree, preparing for a fight. Justice hadn’t moved, though. He zipped up the bag, threw the strap over his shoulder, and only then did he approach the single shaking human.

The abandoned kid whipped his head side to side, trying to find where the rest of the humans had gone. Justice got closer, walking with purpose. He dropped the bat—Pride rolled his eyes—and tried to make a break for it.

“Hey,” Justice said. He barely grasped the kid’s shoulder, which was enough to make him freeze in fear. “Come on, you’re not in trouble.”

“Y-yeah! Good!” the kid stuttered, putting on the weakest show of defiance Pride had ever witnessed. “Because my friends would bail me out, you know.” Pride snorted.

“Your friends? The ones that just ran off to let you take the fall?” The kid flapped his jaw indignantly for a few seconds. Justice crouched down to his level, a sad smile on his face. “I think we both know they’re not really your friends.”

“They are! I’m just—They’re just teaching me how to be cool.”

“Real friends don’t try to change you.” He took the metal bat off the ground and laid it flat in his hands. “Or make you do things you don’t want to do.”

Pride seethed, lashing his tail, smoke gushing from his horns, as all potential sin bled out of his target. The tart flavor slipped off his tongue as the pointless angelic advice took hold.

“I think,” Justice continued, “you should find some people who already think you’re cool.”

“But what about… girls?” the kid asked, so meek Pride almost couldn’t parse what to snicker at.

Justice didn’t find it as funny. “If there’s a girl who wants you to act like someone you’re not, she doesn’t really like you at all.”

Sobered, the kid hung his head in defeat. Justice put the bat down and ruffled his hair, and they giggled together. Pride wished he had organs to throw up with.

“You’re kind,” Justice said. “Don’t let anyone take that from you.”

“Okay,” the kid agreed, hands deep in his pockets. “Thanks.”

The kid shuffled off into the night, not a drop of sin left in the air. Justice was the only thing left in the park, zipping the metal bat back up with all the other unused tools. And Pride’s promise of an interesting evening. He stomped out from behind his tree, hands on his hips.

“That was my catch, you know,” he snapped.

Justice stood and revealed his wings as he turned around, stark white feathers cutting through the night. Pride grimaced as the pinprick headache of an angel’s power hit. Justice made a similar face back.

“You’re going after children?” he asked.

Pride rolled his eyes at such a base accusation. “Oh come on, all humans are children. Your people said it yourself.”

“That’s—” Justice put his palms out to stop himself. “That’s not why I’m here.”

“Yeah, you want to explain that?”

“Gladly. What are you doing here?”

“Uh, what does it look like?”

“I told you to go back to Hell!”

Pride laughed openly at the rage on his face. “You’re kidding me, that’s why you’re here?”

“This place reeks of sin! Do you know how idiotic it is that you stayed on Earth?”

Suddenly it wasn’t funny. Pride set his jaw, tail twitching. “What, like you’re any smarter?”

“Do you really think this—” Justice threw his arms out, gesturing to the park at large, “—is the safest place you can possibly be?”

“You’re the one who left me here, dumbass.”

“And I told you to leave!”

“Yeah, so fucking what? Why should I listen to you?”

“Because this place reeks, like I said.” He jabbed a finger up to the dark sky. “We can sense it from Heaven, and if anyone else catches on to why, we’re both. Dead.”

Pride folded his arms, unimpressed. “Not my problem.”

Justice stared at him like he’d grown an extra set of horns. “Your life is in danger. How is that not your problem?”

“If angels don’t have anything better to do than chase one demon around, that sounds like a you problem.”

Baffled was the only word that could accurately describe Justice’s reaction. He worked his jaw up and down and vaguely circled his arms. His wings half-flapped, like they couldn’t decide if it was better to fly away. Pride watched him struggle with cool disinterest.

“Are you serious?” Justice finally said.

Pride shrugged. “Yeah.”

“I saved your life.”

“Your decision.”

“I’m trying to help you!”

“Not a great choice, to be honest.”

He made a tortured noise, balling his hands into fists by his head. “We’re this close to being caught by Heaven’s entire garrison, and you can’t even accept a warning? Are you dense on purpose?”

Pride flared his nostrils, horns spewing dark clouds of smoke. “Hey, you’re the one who got me thrown behind bars in the first place, remember that?”

“And I defended you in your trial! I’m the only reason you got to tell your story at all! I helped you escape!”

“I didn’t ask for any of your fucking charity!”

Justice stalked up to him in two long strides. “But you got it! Does that mean anything to you?”

“Not a fucking thing, buddy!”

“The life of the only person in Heaven on your side doesn’t mean anything to you? Your own life doesn’t mean anything to you?” He scoffed and took a step back. “No, of course it doesn’t. All you had to do was go back to Hell, and we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. But no, your ego is more important than accepting my freely offered help.”

“You know what, maybe it fucking is!” Pride stuck a finger in his face. “Maybe you’re not half as smart as you fucking think, Justice, because I’m as good as dead if I go back to Hell anyway!”

Pride only realized what came out of his mouth when Justice raised his brows. He clamped his jaw shut, too late to keep any more secrets.

“What do you mean?” Justice asked, less accusatory and more sympathetic. It made Pride’s skin crawl.

Pride chewed on his cheek for a long moment. “I have… enemies,” he finally said. “Having a contract left hanging makes you weak. And even if no one knows you helped me get out, the news that you defended me in that stupid trial has got to be spreading by now. Failing to complete the contract and needing an angel’s help would—” He bit the sentence short, not wanting to imagine it. “I wouldn’t be greeted with acceptance and understanding.”

Justice nodded seriously, but wouldn’t meet his eye. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah, well. Whatever you think Heaven’s going to do to me, Hell would be ten times worse.”

It was eerily quiet. All of Justice’s righteous anger was gone, replaced with pensive silence. Pride took the opportunity to sulk. He shouldn’t have let an angel get him so worked up. After revealing this much, letting slip that he had no choice, Justice would be free to do whatever he wanted. Take him anywhere he wanted—because he’d be dead either way.

“Most angels,” Justice suddenly said, “don’t like me all that much.”

“Like who?” Pride asked. “Honesty?”

He breathed a weary sigh. “Yes, like Honesty. She thinks I’m too soft for my work, too sympathetic. She’s been trying to get rid of me for ages, and it’s… not an unpopular opinion.”

After seeing Honesty’s entire face twitch during his trial, Pride couldn’t say he was surprised she didn’t like him. But most other angels too?

“Weren’t people defending you earlier?” Pride asked.

“A few,” Justice admitted. “Not enough of them can actually made decisions, though. And plenty of others already suspect I’m—” He closed his eyes, and looked pained. “They think I’m a traitor.”

“I mean technically—”

“I know, yes, by helping you I am.” He took a breath. “That’s not the point. The point is I’m already being treated suspiciously. It’s not long before Honesty and everyone else who already disliked me start blaming me outright for letting you escape.”

“Okay…?”

“Okay, so.” Justice stuck out a hand. “Truce?”

Pride stared at him. “What?”

“We stay down here on Earth, together. We lay low as humans, get everyone off our trails, and figure out how to complete your contract. Everybody wins.”

“How is this going to convince everyone you’re not a traitor?”

Justice swirled his hand, annoyed. “We can come up with excuses for that too, come on.”

That was the dumbest idea Pride had ever heard proposed. It sounded like the idea of someone desperate to stay alive, or someone too stupid to consider the consequences. Pride would be the biggest idiot in Hell, Heaven, and on Earth to agree to it.

But was he really any less desperate? No doubt he’d start getting chased around for refusing to cooperate with… whoever came to collect him. And having an unfulfilled contract was a ticking clock on his soul, too. He’d be an even bigger idiot to ignore that.

“Fine,” Pride agreed. He cautiously slid his hand forward to shake. “Truce.”

Justice grinned unreasonably wide and shook hard. “Okay! I guess we’re doing this.”

“I guess we are.”

We’re gonna die, Pride thought. But at leastI convinced an angel to defect from Heaven.

And what better victory could he ever hope to get?