“How nice of you all to join us” she indicated with a hand, and all of a sudden they were sitting down in the pews.
“Demon! Diablo! Witch!” the priest started yelling from his position against the wall. She barely noticed him, uncaring of his mortal fears but she was very interested in the massive spike of fear and loathing within the church. She stepped down off the altar, walking through the crowd, ignoring them as she zoned in on a boy. He was gangly, sad looking, barely twelve and yet burning with a hatred that sent a shiver down her spine. Such strong loathing. Her instincts had led her to him.
“Why do you hate him so much Juan?” she asked gently though she already knew.
He looked up at her with his dark brown eyes focussing on her own violet eyes, within them was a kindness and understanding that encouraged him to say what he had never said before “because he touches me. He makes me touch him. He kisses me. He makes me do things, and he hurts me if I don’t. I can’t tell anyone because no one will believe me.” Tears had started to trickle their way down his dirty face.
She held out her hand to him, gently pulling him up as she said loud enough for everyone to clearly hear “I believe you, I can see it in you. I can feel your suffering and fury.” She led him over to where the priest stood against the wall. Catherine slithered over to join them, tasting his intense fury, to his credit Juan did not cower from her. But then he had dealt with monsters wearing Human masks that had done far worse than she ever would. Hera handed him a long dagger, felt his hatred spike. Oh the rage, it was intoxicating and so surprising in one so young. She had not felt such rage in so long, it was so concentrated, so directed.
He took the dagger in his little arms, they dropped with the weight. Then he squared his shoulders as Hera lightly touched them, giving him the strength to do what he needed to do. With a quick thrust, he stabbed the priest in the stomach. Then again and again and again. Hera stood there and laughed as Juan continued to stab the priest screaming and venting his broken childhood rage. He screamed and screamed about every obscenity the priest had ever made him do. Blood and gore splattered all over the boy and the two women. Hera for her part trapped his soul within his body until Juan collapsed to the ground exhausted. He sat there breathing heavily, still clutching the blade.
The priest sighed and coughed, his last breath leaving his body as Hera finally released her constraints on him. But she was not letting him go. She stepped forward her hands blazing red as she pulled his soul out. Everyone saw the white-blue image of him before it flared red and disappeared.
She knelt down next to Juan “Do not worry Juan he can never hurt you again and he will never know release. He will be held with my powers and made to pay for what he did to you.” She picked him up, and he cuddled into her, turning his face away from the stares of his town. She gently stroked his hair, using her magic to grant him sleep, as she turned to face the town “Well, well, well, what a terrible little town. Abuse under your nose, planning to kill an innocent woman and stealing from each other. No wonder the land forsakes you. Perhaps the first volcano wasn’t enough, perhaps you need another to cleanse you.”
They started screaming and wailing as lava bubbled up onto the altar, the crucifix slowly melting into the glowing mass. “No?” she asked “it is not your fault the land starves and the Angels forsake you, for they cannot embrace the earth. So I will call the rains to ease your burdens. But it comes at a price.” Thunder boomed outside and the sound of rain pelting down on the roof cause people to gasp in surprise. It had been over a decade since they had had proper rain, they had had to import it in better years. Hera smiled, “This land belongs to me, this town belongs to me, and your pathetic lives belong to me.” She snapped her fingers and all the crucifixes in the church burst into flame, many people had to quickly rip off their burning necklaces.
Hera turned to Catherine “This land once belonged to the Feathered Serpent, and now it will once again be the Land of Serpents. Claim what you will but destroy every church.”
She smiled, “As you wish my Goddess” then with lightning speed she wrapped herself around several of the females, biting them and casting the transformation spell. Hera turned her attention to the little boy in her arms while Catherine quickly started swelling her numbers. She brushed his hair back, surprisingly he was still awake “What should I do with you little one?” she asked gently.
“Take me away from here please?”
“I tell you what I’ll make a bargain with you. If I take you away from here you will become one of my soldiers and with that comes the right to choose a new form.”
He raised his watery eyes to hers, they were filled with determination “What do you wish of me my Goddess?” smart kid.
“Well initially learn how to fight, but you shall seek out more of your kind, and your numbers will grow. War is coming, and we must be prepared.” She had a feeling that empowering abuse victims was going to be a stroke of genius. They burned with a fury and sorrow that would empower them beyond their mortal gifts.
Yes her army was finally starting to take shape. She had all the magical races of America flocking to her, and soon too would the Mexicans. The Gorgons and Minotaurs were automatically hers, and as their numbers grew, they would provide solid support. The victims were going to be another section of Humanity easy to claim. She would give them power and the leash to get their revenge. They would form her Elites. She was also harvesting vast amounts of sorcerers from amongst the homosexuals. Her name and symbol were openly being worn and invoked by magical and non-magical homosexuals alike. They were outcast so easily, but survived with a strength she found valuable. She had also been experimenting with the Obese. Infused with magic, they were living siege weapons, disgusting freaks that they were, once under her full control they were useful. Her magic overriding the extensive damage they had already done to their bodies.
Yes, it was all coming together.
She cast a final glance back at Catherine, who had now turned ten women into Gorgons before she snapped her fingers. Fire bloomed along all the pews, violet flames licking hungrily for all traces of the Angels. The town had a new beginning now. She left with Juan, leaving the town completely at the mercy of Catherine.
Michael was perched atop the Taj Mahal, Raphael was crouched next to him as they both analysed the people milling below them.
“She’s done something here, but I can’t pin it down.”
Michael nodded his agreement that was exactly what Nuriel had told him. “Whatever it is it is subtle, far more than her efforts in the Ganges.”
“That may have lacked subtlety, but it worked for her. Varanasi almost completely belongs to her. Even with the spike in murders, religious killings, and arsons, people still flock there. We have lost our first city. She grows ever stronger too, her presence spreading. Ariel reports that her influence in Australia is rising sharply.”
“It would seem our once shy little Goddess has turned into a Hydra, we cut down one part, and she’s appeared in several other places with even more followers.”
“Do you think she will head for Britain?”
“Who knows what she’s going to do anymore? We once thought we knew her, how she would react and she has confounded us time and time again. She’s claimed two major river systems and is ever strengthening her claims on India, Bangladesh, Australia, New Zealand and Papua New Guinea. Even in Pakistan with its civil war and our influence her presence is still being felt.
None of it makes sense, her claiming of the Ganges and India was brilliant. Beyond anything we would have ever accredited to her. How on earth did she convince more than half of the Hindu population that she was the avatar of all their Gods reincarnated? They have been the biggest thorn in our side for millennia. Their faith prevented either Islam or Christianity claiming the subcontinent and spreading further. How did she do it? So quickly?”
“Perhaps somehow the Hindu Gods played a part in all this?”
“Not beyond the realms of pos
sibility but I would like to know where they have been hiding all these years.”
“Should we recall Uriel and his legions to assist us here?”
“No there is always a chance one of them may return to their homelands, we must stay vigilant. It is our own pride that is getting the better of us. We must not be rash.”
He had barely finished before they felt the shift of magical energies, felt a wave of potent magic sweep out past them. They felt the world’s life currents surge past them, heading towards Pakistan as they heard her voice speak in their heads.
“That fucking canny bitch” Michael snarled, but as he said it, he smiled. He had always been a warrior and for centuries there had been no worthy enemy. The spread of their religions only intrigued him so much as the powers it granted and that his stamp was made on Humanity. But now Brigid surprisingly enough was shaping up to be more than a worthy advisory. For the first time since the War, the Angels were losing ground.
“Get in contact with Gabriel, I’ll go and sort out this mess. Keep your Ophanim and the legions here, she’ll be long gone from Pakistan, but she might revisit here.” He gave a half-hearted salute before disappearing.
Great, he had to deal with Gabriel. He felt around the Taj Mahal once again trying to decipher the subtle nuances of her spell. He shook his head it was beyond him despite his power. Perhaps Gabriel would be able to help, she was far more skilled in the finer manipulations of magic than any other Angel. If the War had not occurred, she would have ascended to the ranks of the Gods long ago to join and thrive in their games.
*Gabriel?*
*Yes, Raphael?* She sounded surprisingly polite, she couldn’t have heard the news about Pakistan yet. He wasn’t going to be the one to tell her.
*I require you magical assistance and skills. Michael and myself have found something unusual, and we believe it may be one of Brigid’s spells, but it is beyond our expertise.*
Even in his mind he could feel her smiling, knew she was delighted that he admitted such limitations to her, but then he was not like her and Michael. He knew his limitations and was willing to acknowledge and accept them.
*Of course Raphael, I just have to go chase up John Paul and get him to Australia then I will join you.*
*I’ll be waiting at the Taj Mahal.*
The connection went out. How would she react when she found out that Brigid had formally claimed Pakistan? He hoped she found out after she had helped him, he really wasn’t in the mood to dance around her foul temper.
Brigid pulled herself out of the gently flowing river, not quite sure how she had ended up in Australia or in the River Murray. Apparently the Lifestream had seen fit to deposit her here. She was needed.
She gave a sigh of relief as she felt Ariel leave. She would head downstream and head over to Adelaide to snoop around and sort out whatever she had done. But her attention was drawn to the young girl watching her from in between two red gums. The girl was staring at her wide-eyed and Brigid belatedly realised she hadn’t hidden her wings.
“Are you an Angel?” she asked hesitantly, awed beyond her wildest dreams.
Brigid smiled, “No I am not, I am a Goddess.”
The girl stared wide eyed, the term meant nothing to her.
“There is much sorrow in you Rachel. Why such sorrow in one so young?”
“The river went crazy a few days ago, a lot was destroyed. But now the river is healthy, it flows. I’ve never seen it so full. But now we can’t get any water from it. The water just won’t go up the pipes or flow into channels. The water refuses to leave the river.”
Brigid knelt down next to her “Do you know why that is?”
“No”
“Because it isn’t your water, it is Brigid’s, and you must ask her for it. You wouldn’t take something without asking for it would you?”
“No mummy says that’s wrong.”
“Exactly so you must ask for the water.”
“But how do we ask her?” Children were so easy to explain things to, their minds accepted things adults’ could not.
Brigid smiled at the girl before saying “You must say to the river Brigid we ask for the gift of water.”
Rachel gave her a funny look “is that all?”
“It is, give it a go.”
Rachel gave her an assessing look, she wasn’t convinced but with that natural curiosity of the young, she climbed up onto the nearby irrigation gates. They sat wide open with the river rushing straight past, defying the laws of gravity.
“Brigid we ask for the gift of water.”
Brigid smiled as Rachel shrieked in delight as water started pouring through the sluice gate into the irrigation channels behind. Rachel was delighted quickly running to a nearby box and flicking the control for the pipes to start sucking up the water. Their crops wouldn’t be ruined this year.
She turned around but the Goddess, whatever that was, was gone. The only trace of her existence being a golden necklace of a six-winged woman sparkling on the ground. She picked it up, it looked exactly like the woman she had just seen. Turning it over she found ornate writing that simply said, Brigid.
This was the Brigid everyone was talking about. The voices in people’s heads, the news was always talking about her. She realised that the woman had the same voice as the one that had spoken in her head. And she had come to speak to her personally.
She had to tell her mum. She was going to be so impressed that she had met a Goddess. She could also ask what that was.
Hundreds of kilometres away in Adelaide Brigid smiled as she felt Rachel’s heart and spirit align to her. She would spread what she had learned, first to her parents and community and from there by word of mouth it would spread along the whole river basin. As they asked for her gift, she, in turn, would take their debt. Not that they would realise that asking for the gift of water came with the price of their spirits.
She could now safely say that the whole Murray-Darling Basin would be hers, which was a fair amount of the land in Australia. Now she could turn her attention to the capital cities and also to New Zealand and Papua New Guinea. She hadn’t realised she would gain them. The Fates were smiling on her.
First on her list was Adelaide, Ariel had been here she had to fix and heal whatever mischief she had been up to. Plus as the City of Churches what better place to start to weed out Christianity?
She was perched on St Peter’s Cathedral, feeling Ariel’s strong magic lingering. She would remove that. Taking a breath, she sank down through the roof and perched on the ceiling. She gathered that Hera was probably the driving force behind the sudden destruction of so many mosques and hate crimes in America. That or the country was tearing itself apart. Hard to tell in this day and age, so many civil wars had erupted in previously stable countries in the last three decades.
If it was Hera, she was dividing and conquering. It had to be, who else would destroy St Louis Cathedral with purple fire? Brigid gathered that Hera’s overall plan was to destroy all traces of the Angels and their Religions, presumably from America. Though she had no idea if that was where she was set up. Then again if she didn’t know, the Angels weren’t likely to either.
But she had other plans for the churches in her domain. She would assimilate them, and then manipulate them as she saw fit. She waved her hand and the whole church rippled. All the crucifixes burst into flames, pooling into puddles of liquid metal. All the stained glass windows exploded inwards, their shards frozen in the air before spinning around and rearranging themselves back into the windows. All throughout the cathedral any images of Jesus, any crucifix, any bible, any symbol of Christian faith and power was destroyed. In their place were the symbols of her. The six-winged woman and fire. There were also the symbols of her past scattered about; the cow, the serpent, the ewe and the cockerel.
From here on in she would direct the worship of herself. The church had turned her into a virgin and stripped her of her true nature. She was a Mother Goddess and a Goddess of justice, peace, f
ire, the sun, wisdom, and crafts. She would embrace all those again, and she would embrace new attributes. But mortality would know her foremost as the Mother Earth Goddess, patron of the British Empire.
Churches ironically enough had desecrated her sacred grounds and groves but were still sacred to her. And with them widespread due to the British Empire it would be far easier to convert them than destroy them and rebuilt them again. What she needed was something that would desecrate the church and its religious ties while consecrating it in her name.
She remembered that there was a congregation beneath her, and realised that they were all looking up at her in amazement. God damn these wings, curse her own stupidity. She should remember to hide.
The point was moot really considering what she had just done to the cathedral. Many were pointing at the central stained glass window over the altar, the one that now depicted her bathed in flames. Beneath it, the Chancel was transforming from dull into a beautiful, lush grove. The altar had been replaced by a simple altar of bluestone, reminiscent of Stonehenge. It was here that she gently alighted, looking over the stunned congregation. The priest nearby was almost comatose in shock. If he weren't careful, the plants would wrap themselves around him.
But how to make the changes permanent?
Then she felt him. Her eyes located the youth, dragged along to church against his will. Behind his Bible, he was on his phone. His need was palpable, a poor virgin desperate to lose it. The last of his mates and feeling the shame. Poor lad. Yes, he would do perfectly, sex was among her greatest declarations of power. The Church valued virginity citing it as purity. Losing one’s virginity in a church would be very sacrilegious.
She pointed at him, golden streams of light coiling outwards towards him and playfully encircling him. He looked up, his lust and confusion apparent to all. She beckoned with her fingers. Everyone else remained frozen where they were as he stood up and walked towards her, the golden lights giving him the appearance of divinity.
The Angels' Pride Page 34