by V L Moon
But, something wasn’t right with the whole set up. Arial was damned if he knew what it was. The video of Miss Lorenza outside the king’s chambers and the shadow of wings playing over her back still puzzled Arial. Her scent, that intoxicating bouquet was something on a different scale altogether. It was hard to distinguish the difference between the two Seraphim pheromones due to Laziel’s scent overlying everything. However, there was something different, a subtle, softer fragrance that tickled the back of Arial’s throat.
Celestial pheromones and female arousal weren’t things Arial was akin to, but he wasn’t entirely unaccustomed to the overpowering allure of what they could do to someone of the opposite sex. He just hoped Malachi hadn’t fallen foul and given in to Miss Lorenza’s charms. If she was the reason behind Laziel’s disappearance, Arial’s loyalty to Malachi would be tested beyond its limits. Laziel might not be of the same celestial race as Arial, but the Seraphim was more of a brother to Arial than he liked to admit.
Arial respected the King, had taken the oath to serve and protect him. But, his allegiance to his own kind had to take precedence didn’t it? Creator save him; the two of them would drive him mad. How could two of the most powerful entities on the Creator’s Earth be so fucking stubborn; yet, hold so much love. The answers were there. Arial knew they were probably right in front of his face, but he couldn’t figure out the whole mess. Not know with Darklon waiting on him.
Arial groaned. Why couldn’t he just take the motherfucker down? It would solve a shit load of problems and probably ease some of their work load. Darklon’s fingers dipped into too many pies. His corruption was so wide spread Arial didn’t think they’d ever get to the bottom of the shit pile. The bastard Elder had conspired against his own bloody race for so long Arial doubted even Darklon could keep track of all the wrong doing. There had to be a reason why Laziel allowed his evil regime to blight the King’s reign. So many questions.
He moved into the shadows of Rome’s darkened streets and tracked the odor of Darklon’s bitter disdain. He didn’t need to reach out with his senses to find where the Elder waited in the gloom of a dirty, dank alley. The venomous purge of his malevolence leaked like an aura of toxic waste. It tainted the night air with poisonous tendrils of abhorrence and hate. Arial knew Darklon despised the human populace and thought of them as nothing but cattle to feed his own greed. Thank the Creator Malachi was on the throne. If Darklon was seated at the head of the vampire world, the human race would have been brought to its knees, its numbers decimated by the Elder’s insatiable thirst for human blood. They’d have been no more than sport for Darklon’s cluster of extremists whose belief in the old laws was as outdated as Darklon’s love of velour.
Darklon’s stance exuded confidence. As Arial approached, the Elder sneered, showing the length of his fangs.
“I’d be careful with that smile, Master De Sangue. I just might think you’re happy to see me.” Arial’s light hearted banter always seemed to appease the eccentric vampire. Darklon laughed, taking hold of Arial’s hand and greeting him fondly almost as though they were old friends. Arial allowed the familiarity. He knew a sharp wit lay beneath Darklon’s friendly façade. The vampire would see through the slightest flaw in Arial’s allegiance toward him.
“You’ve been ruffling a few feathers in the enclave so I hear,” Arial quipped as he walked alongside Darklon. The vampire’s cold grey eyes shone like liquid silver, they reflected what little moonlight seeped through the overlying clouds.
”Ahh, Laziel. He is such a formidable creature. When the time comes, it will give me great pleasure to dissect each of those wings of his one feather at a time. I’ll even let you assist. You might even enjoy taking what was taken from you.” Darklon’s voice dripped with vehemence as he reached up and ran talon shaped fingernails through the ragged remains of Arial’s wings.
Arial’s gut churned. Swiftly, he reigned in the visual imagery of what Darklon had planned. The Elder had no clue Laziel was missing, and as far as Arial was concerned, he wasn’t about to find out any time soon. If Darklon knew Malachi’s angel was no longer at his side, there would be no stopping the tyrannical old fool’s vendetta against Malachi.
“Tell me, Fallen. Does the abomination that calls himself a king still trust you?” Darklon’s glare cut up to take in Arial’s reaction to his question. Arial sneered, glancing down at his supposed ally. The madness and loathing behind Darklon’s cold eyes radiated almost neon bright. Arial knew he had to tread carefully where any talk of the King was concerned. Arial allowed honest disgust to show on his face.
“He is a young and foolish king who is more interested in prettying up the vampire race than abiding by the old ways that have seen your race thrive. He knows not of hardship, or the desire that comes with drinking from the throats of the humans. He is so busy trying to impress. Give him time, Master De Sangue, and enough rope to hang himself. He will soon find the error of his ways, and when he does, you will be there to revel in the stench of his burning flesh as the sun sets above the throne of your vampire kingdom.”
Darklon delighted in Arial’s treasonous outburst to such an extent the Elder released a maniacal laugh and turned to Arial. “He is a fool my Fallen friend. One that will learn very soon that meddling with me brings about dire circumstances. Tell me, Arial, was the King very upset to find his playmate missing?” And that was exactly what Arial needed; solid confirmation Darklon was indeed behind Mistress Lorenza’s abduction.
Drawing from the well of evil he’d been forced to feed from since falling from grace, Arial cackled letting a stream of demonic blood seep from between his teeth. His tattered wings arched out behind him. He cloaked himself in a veil of such malevolence it drew a shocked gasp from the evil Elder. Darklon may have thought he was evil, but to the likes of Arial he was no different than the mere humans he so solemnly despised. Arial had witnessed true evil many times over. He’d seen behind the gates of Hell and bore witness to the atrocities that happened to those that ended up there. Darklon held no clue about the path he chose, but Arial did. Once the Elder vampire ended up within the bowels of Lucifer’s kingdom, Arial intended to make sure to lock the door behind him—good and bloody tight.
Darkness enclosed them both. Arial used its overwhelming intensity to lure Darklon in closer and gain his trust. When the vampire dropped to his knees, laughing at the thrilling chill of evil Arial had created, the Fallen knew he’d succeeded in breaching Darklon’s barriers.
“You are indeed a commendable subject Arial Nathanial. Denali isn’t worthy of your allegiance. We will enjoy watching him suffer as we stand as a united force against him. He will give up that throne as demanded, and then we will allow him to watch as we dismember his precious Lorenza. And, if his guardian attempts to interfere, we will adorn the enclave with their heads.”
Darklon’s words slid over Arial like oil over water. There was no doubt in his mind Laziel would bring down the wrath of the Creator on any who dared harm what was his. But, was the angel’s wrath strong enough to save the vampire King’s female. There was no way for Malachi to know the depth of hurt Laziel would experience at finding out the life he’d created loved another.
Was that what drove Laziel away? Arial applied the brakes to stop the train of his thoughts. He cared deeply for his angel brethren and the vampire king, and if Darklon caught even a hint of the concern spiraling through his mind, there’d be no reasoning with him. He needed Darklon’s trust. Nothing would stop his concern for Laziel or the king, but for now, there was a female out there who depended on Arial to come through for her and keep her from Darklon’s torturous hands. He prayed he wasn’t too late.
“Come, my friend, let us walk.” It was more a command than a suggestion, and Arial obliged, letting Darklon take the lead as they strolled the darkened streets of Rome. “There are many things creatures such as ourselves see over the expanse of our time here on earth. You more so than me Fallen.” Darklon glanced sideways at him.
“We are superior, and thus should be treated as such; not taught to hide to ease the pathetic sensibilities of the human race. No one ever condemned the lion for eating the gazelle. No. They crowned the lion the king of beasts. Yet, a vampire’s nature to feast on the blood of humans is deemed barbaric. If that were true, wouldn’t your Creator have seen to it that we were eradicated from his Earth?” Darklon asked and shook his head, answering his own question.
“Instead, here we are, larger than life and growing stronger by the day. Or, we will be when the throne is mine. I will see to it that the old laws are reinstated instead of the whimsical fantasies of Malachi Denali. A true blood he may be, but a king he is not,” Darklon sneered. “He will be of much better use siring young from the most elite of our females. And, if he puts up a fight, I’m sure he won’t mind being tied down. After all that is the kind of thrill he likes is it not?”
Cackling to himself as they walked, Darklon held no notion of Arial’s dismay. Christ! Laziel needed to get his ass back before all Hell broke loose. If Darklon somehow gained the advantage, Malachi was in trouble. Arial’s phone vibrated in his pocket, and Darklon eyed him curiously. Time was running out. Ignoring the persistent buzz, Arial carried on walking until he felt the tension lift from Darklon’s aura.
”I hope you’ve hidden Gabriel well. Malachi damn near brought down the walls of the enclave when he saw the devious little scum bag sneaking around on the video footage. Stupid fuck went and got caught on camera. There was no way of hiding it from the King; damn fucker’s got surveillance everywhere. If he catches Gabriel, he’ll either kill him, or drag him before the council, and if the Elders look into Gabriel’s mind…” Arial left his sentence unfinished. A soft swirl of air caused the dead leaves beneath his feet to stir. He turned to find Darklon gone, the bait taken and the game set to see who out of the two would find Gabriel first.
Arial shifted deeper into the shadows. He had a job to do and a king to serve. He headed toward the Vatican where he hoped to find Laziel back in his rightful place. Arial knew he’d be hearing from Darklon, and soon. He hoped the crazy old fool hadn’t lost his mind completely and gone off and killed Malachi’s consort.
Remembering the silent vibration from his phone, Arial checked the screen and stilled in the middle of a darkened street. If he'd been anything other than Fallen, he'd have most likely choked on his own tongue when he heard the King’s message. “Get your ass back to the enclave and find Clariel. He’s the Nephilim I brought back from battle tonight. He’s in the infirmary and he’s a guest not a hostage.”
“Hell on Earth, the fucker’s finally lost the plot,” Arial ground out between gritted teeth. He didn't know the details of what Malachi had done but Arial knew two things for sure. If there was indeed a Nephilim within the walls of the royal enclave, the vamps would be itching to string the fucker up come sunset. And, if Malachi had seen the video tape of that little rat bastard Gabriel taking down Loz, Gabriel was living on seriously borrowed time.
By the time Arial arrived within the enclave via Laziel’s private chapel, most of the vampires had thankfully been forced to seek comfort from the clutches of dawn’s enthrall. Apart from Malachi and a few of the more elite of the guards, the royal enclave lay steeped in an eerie cloak of silence. Arial smelled the fear leaking from the vampires even as they slept. The scent of Malachi’s wrath hung in the air like a heavy cloak of bitter despondency. But, behind the ire and violence lay the subtle hint of Malachi’s own fears and loneliness.
Without Laziel at his side, Malachi’s volatile nature threatened to bring down the walls of Rome. Together, Laziel and Malachi were a force to be reckoned with, but alone, the King’s anger would eventually consume him. As Arial journeyed deeper into the cavernous depths of the enclave, a familiar scent tickled his senses and set the hair on his neck on end.
An icy chill slithered down his spine, and Arial's eyes widened as his senses spiked. His pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out his thoughts. Hunger like he’d never felt before, roared to life inside of him, threatening to bring Arial crashing to his knees. A feral roar ripped from his lips, and heat blossomed over the surface of his skin. That scent; that familiar yet elusive and soul destroying smell had stained the very innards of Arial’s flesh and stayed with him, torturing his mind for hundreds of years. Now, it was here, saturating the very air Arial breathed. But how had it gotten inside the enclave? When?
Why?
Confusion reigned like a torrential downpour, sending Arial’s mind into a maelstrom of anger and hurt. He followed the intoxicating trail further into the enclave. With each step, Arial struggled to breathe. In all of the years since he’d fallen from grace, he’d hunted; roamed the earth searching for the bearer of the repugnant, yet highly addictive scent. And after all that time, he was here. The demon, the begotten son of Satan, the reason Arial had lost his wings and carried the affliction of his mother’s abhorrent curse.
The image of his face, so beautiful yet so very deadly, lingered within the far reaches of Arial’s mind. He struggled to block the memories before they snatched him back in time to a place where the memory of his heated caress danced over the innocent planes of Arial’s flawless flesh and scorched Arial’s heart for eternity. He’d never forget the feeling of absolution that had once filled him when he’d been surrounded within the solid, strong hold of Bastian’s arms.
As always, when Arial’s mind threatened to let those memories consume him, the pain associated with being cast out of Heaven helped resolve the immoral blight of his sinful past. He straightened his spine and sneered, showing rows of savage sharp teeth. If Bastian was foolish enough to venture into the bosom of the royal enclave, then so be it.
Victory shall be mine. Arial thought as he maneuvered his towering frame through the very last door. His eyes swept the room, acknowledging Lance, Laziel’s guard elite. The vampire’s features were stoic, yet Arial sensed the guard’s growing unease. He stepped aside to reveal Malachi’s unwelcomed guest.
Fear radiated from the wingless Nephilim though his face remained impassive. Small tremors shook his frame uncontrollably as he lay in the center of the bed. Arial eyed him wondering what the fuck had gotten into Malachi.
“Your name, now?” Arial questioned.
“Clariel,” the young male promptly responded. “Please your Eminence, I mean no harm. I was brought here by the King of the vampires himself and have offered him my loyalty and allegiance. There are others, many others, such as me that fear the wrath of our queen. She holds no regard for those of us that refuse to fight.”
Arial took a step back as Clariel threw back the covers and tried to stand. Clariel looked way to thin for a Nephilim. His skin was pale, and his eyes held virtually no celestial light. Whoever their queen was, she ruled with violence and used fear to get what she wanted from the spawn of the Fallen.
“Leave us.” Arial’s voice boomed.
Lance shook his head and straightened his back. “Saul would have my balls in a gunny sack if I leave this room.”
“If you don’t leave now, I’ll make that a possibility sooner than you thought.” Arial’s voice deepened to take on the ire of his darkening mood.
Lance moved toward the door. “I’ll be right outside.” Arial never answered; he didn’t get time. Lance disappeared quickly.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed how Clariel watched him as he moved closer to the edge of the bed. The Nephilim was weak, so weak his balance was off. Arial reached out to try and catch him before Clariel fell to the floor.
”Sire, please don’t make me leave,” Clariel pleaded with Arial. He clutched at the length of Arial’s thighs with trembling hands but still crumpled to the floor. Creator help him. The sorrow and sadness in Clariel’s eyes were enough to break the hardest of hearts. No wonder Malachi had folded and brought the gentle creature into the safety of his home.
Slowly, Arial lowered himself to the floor and leaned back against the bed. He had no clue of the Nephil
im’s story, but something about his genteel nature called out to Arial and confused the hell out of him.
He cared.
And, when Clariel virtually crawled into his lap, Arial didn’t have the heart to push him away. Instead, he pulled the comforter off of the bed behind him and wrapped it around Clariel before pulling the shuddering Nephilim gently against his chest. Arial held Clariel until his body went limp, and soft sobs sent tiny crystal tears rolling down his chest. The appearance of the gems shocked Arial. He’d never met a Nephilim with the ability to produce celestial teardrops.
“You are safe here. None will dare defy Malachi, and you have Laziel and me on your side. We will let no harm come to you. Tell me Clariel, do you know of your Fallen father?” Arial was curious. Never, in all of his years, had he met a Nephilim with such a gentle nature. At best, they were cold and dispassionate creatures, ruthless killers. Yet, Clariel held no malice at all.
“My father wasn’t Fallen. He was human, a monk who renounced his vow to God.” Arial sat motionless, captivated by Clariel’s declaration.
“You are the son of a female Fallen?” The surprise in his voice caused Clariel to look up from where his head lay against Arial’s chest.
The Nephilim nodded and smiled warmly as more tears spilled from his eyes. ”Her name was Amitiel. She was beautiful, so radiant. And her smile…my father swore that when she smiled the sun shone from her eyes.”
Tears continued to well in Clariel’s eyes, and Arial held him closer than he should. A female Fallen—no wonder Clariel was different. Amitiel. The name was one he remembered. If his memory served him correctly and it usually did, Amitiel was the angel of truth. But, when had she fallen. To Arial’s knowledge, there weren’t many female Fallen. Female angels were the purest, so to have one fall was virtually unheard of.