Unlocked

by Kevin Solomon Missal

  Ivy’s jaw tightened. “And what exactly could that be, sir?”

  Sir? Caspar knew she was Capernaum’s apprentice, learning the ways of a Nephilim, the runes, the tattoos, about the demons, about the rogue angels, as well as everything that pertained to Lucifer, Michael, Gabriel and Raphael – The Four Blood Brothers. Yet he didn’t expect a ‘sir’ from her when it came to Capernaum who was a cold-blooded demon.

  “I found out where the ritual is. Where Manfred is going to practice the will of the four djinns.”

  “Ohoo! Yuppie!” Balthazar cried, though his voice sounded bored. “It’s in the Land of Souls.”

  “Isn’t that the . . .?” Caspar’s voice trailed off.

  “Yes. That was where Michael and Lucifer fought. Where Michael was able to trap Lucifer in a cage known as Purgatory to be eternally condemned.” Capernaum

  seemed as if he were disappointed about something. “He must have purposely chosen this place because it is close to Purgatory.”

  “Can someone fill me in about this?” Balthazar inquired.

  Caspar looked at him with reluctance. “Land of Souls is a place where Death has no control over the deaths of demons. That’s heaven for demons. Before it was where the bodies of the dead demons lay. It was a peaceful land, where only gifted souls were allowed to rest. At that time, during the Great Host, the biggest war between Hell and Heaven, Michael and Lucifer landed there. There, Michael created the perfect cage made out of his bones and trapped Lucifer within it. He named it Purgatory.”

  “Why name it later? Why not before when he was making the cage? Wouldn’t it be better, as it would distract him while he would be yanking his bones out?” Balthazar’s look was puzzled.

  Ivy smirked slightly. Few things just cracked her up. Caspar found no humor in the situation, however. He didn’t give a damn as to what Balthazar had said. He was busy in his own world.

  “There’s one thing I don’t understand. We see the demon pulverizing here, so how come the corpses of the demons lay there?” Balthazar queried.

  “If a demon dies here, we see ash, but the corpse is automatically transported to the Land of Souls,” Capernaum said.

  “That makes sense,”

  “We have to go now,” Caspar replied.

  “The ritual is not until midnight. It’s the eclipse tonight.”

  “So he could...Oh, Manfred, Manfred, Manfred!” He smiled with amusement and clapped his hands together as he stamped his feet. “Oh, you are brilliant! You are brilliant, Manfred Croft!”

  Ivy raised her brows. Balthazar’s jaw opened. Why was he calling the public enemy number one, brilliant?

  “Don’t you see it?” He looked at Ivy and then at Balthazar. “Your brains...they are so unused!” He grinned. “I can get good money out of your brains, if I sell them on the market.”

  “Hey, don’t act like a jerk, all right!” Ivy snapped.

  “If I recall correctly, I think I am very good at being one.”

  “Do people actually buy unused brains? I don’t really think so.” Balthazar’s smile was a tad mocking.

  Caspar took a deep breath.

  “Tell us, or I’ll stab you,” Ivy warned.

  “You won’t.” Caspar narrowed his eyes. “I know.” “Do you want to test your luck?”

  “All right. The eclipse...He has chosen the day of this eclipse because when Lucifer rises, his lost power will be restored. Though the power gained won’t be as much as he had before, it will be enough to destroy many lives,” Caspar explained with exasperation. “Now the question is, what should we do about it?”

  “We must strike!” Ivy suggested

  “No, no, no, Ivy. There would be several hundreds, even thousands of demons, waiting for their Creator,” Capernaum replied. “It would count us as fools if we struck them with no suitable strategy on hand.”

  Caspar stepped forward, suspicion clouding his features. A sharp glint lit the corners of his eyes. “Whenever you are talking about Lucifer, you are saying ‘their Creator’ as if you don’t consider yourself as one of the beings Lucifer has created.”

  Capernaum didn’t answer. His face was cold as he stared back at Caspar. “What is going on? Why are you trying to help us and why are you trying to

  conspire against the one who created you?” he asked angrily. The words slipped with such force and such magnitude that everything shook around them. “You don’t consider yourself a demon, do you?”

  Capernaum refused to say a word.

  “I am questioning this loyalty of yours to us. I think you are pulling us into a trap.” Caspar reached for his cane.

  “Are you crazy, Caspar? This man has been with me for almost seven years and I am sure if he would have been untrustworthy, I would have known.”

  “Good cheaters never leave clues.”

  Capernaum swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Well, I am no cheater.” He wasn’t angry. “You have to trust me on this, Mr. Socrates. You have to. After this, I will tell you everything, but not now. We have lots of strategies to consider and lots of things we have to discuss so that we can try to abolish Manfred’s plan. We have to work together. I swear, I shall tell you when the time is right.”

  “Do I have a choice?” Caspar lamented. He was not yet convinced of Capernaum’s loyalty. He walked about, his eyes sweeping the rest of the house. He whistled and said, “What is the plan, then?”

  “We can’t win them over.” The wounded demon made his way to the sofa, his voice sounded frail and for the first time, he looked as old as his human appearance depicted. “Like this with just the four of us? We need support.”

  “How will we able to get that?” Balthazar asked.

  “I know. Yes.” Caspar grinned. “Who wanted Lucifer to be in Purgatory in the first place? Who put him there?”

  “Are you thinking of channeling the Archangel Michael?” Ivy prodded, feeling a tad stunned.

  “No. No. I am thinking of meeting him.” Caspar’s smile broadened. “That’s our last chance.”

  “He’s right. Our last chance. Michael will do anything to stop Lucifer from

  rising.”

  Balthazar stepped forward and walked from the television room to the common room. His legs now looked way too small for his bulky body. It looked as if a turtle has been forced walk on two legs. He started floating as he realized that everyone was staring at him.

  “I have known an angel. He might be able to connect us to Michael,” Capernaum replied.

  “We wait then,” Caspar breathed.

  ***

  An awkward silence descended upon Ivy, Caspar, and Balthazar. Capernaum had gone to his room to rest. Ivy’s eyes were focused on Caspar with anger and irritation as if any second now, she was going to interrogate him. Balthazar was whistling in hopes of lightening the atmosphere.

  Caspar trusted Death. For some reason, he couldn’t turn fathom the thought of Death being a traitor. It was difficult to accept it, but as per these circumstances, he

  had to believe that it was a minor possibility. Capernaum had time enough to tell them the reason why he was helping them, but he was too weak to even speak. He’d told them how the others had learned of his betrayal and chased him, scratching and burning him, barely getting out alive.

  Yet the main question Caspar mulled over was whether Michael would help them? It seemed legitimate that Michael wanted the same thing he wanted, but would he do something about it? There was no surety. He had second thoughts about the situation at hand because he knew angels were tricky entities. They were worse than demons. Demons wanted their kingdom on Earth, but angels – they were good. So good, that they would sacrifice millions of lives in order to exact their righteous justice.

  Ivy’s face was pale and round. The cuts upon her cheeks were sharp. Her nose was thin and perfect with perky lips beneath it. She had crossed her arms about her chest, her eyes wide as she glanced at Caspar once in a while.

  “You are an asshole,” she said abruptl
y. “I am aware of that.”

  “You are a bastard, a ruthless, stupid, idiot bastard.” Caspar didn’t retaliate. He nodded instead.

  “Why aren’t you abusing me?” “Because I am not an idiot.”

  Balthazar kept whistling and slowly the tone grew louder. She stood up. “So you are calling me an idiot?”

  “Yes.”

  She pulled her dagger out. “Call me that once more!”

  “Idiot,” he replied and cut her off before she could complete the sentence.

  “AHHHHH!” With her dagger clutched tightly between her fingers, she leapt at Caspar.

  He dodged the blow and grabbed Ivy as he stepped behind her, one arm wrapping around her neck and the other curling around her belly. A unique sensation rippled through him, one he’d never felt before. Soft blotches of red formed upon his cheeks and he began to feel warm. His hold upon her weakened and took advantage of it. She turned and kicked him in the abdomen. He collapsed and she jumped on top of him, her dagger plummeting downward.

  He grabbed a hold of her hands and said, “You really thinking of killing me?” “Of course not. I just want to hurt you.”

  “That’s stupid.” “You are stupid.”

  “What on Heaven is happening here?” a husky voice inquired.

  They turned to find a bald headed man wearing round specs and a suit standing before them. He was smiling, yet there was no grace in it.

  “Hello,” he said. “I am Zephyr, Archangel Michael’s messenger.” He took note of their astounded expressions. “Am I disturbing something?” His tone was neither warm nor soothing. “Mind you, I don’t care.” He adjusted his specs and walked forward. “Someone came to me stating that a demon wanted to see me. It is confusing because demons never come to an angel for help. They know that death is waiting if they do.”

  “This time it’s serious,” Ivy said.

  “Ah.” He approached the table and picked up a glass. “You are a Nephilim? I see right through you.” He poured some wine in the glass. “Cheers,” he said and

  sipped his drink. “I am the messenger as well as the principal of the Nephilim Academy. I am sure I have never seen you there.” His gaze was threatening.

  Ivy wasn’t scared. She remained still as she tried to think of a reply. “Because I never wanted to go,”

  “So where are you getting your training?” “Here.”

  “May I ask, by whom are you being trained?” “Capernaum.”

  “That degenerate!” Zephyr spat, his voice full of absolute anger. He calmed down as if it was nothing.

  Caspar thought he was trying to scare them and was moderately successful. “A gifted child in the apprenticeship of a demon,” he mused. “That is absurd.”

  He paused and licked his lips. “Do you have any idea what are you missing, child? We train half angels as our own offspring. We give them wisdom and power and a sense of brain to not acquaint themselves with the degenerates.” He emphasized the words. “We make Nephilims proud and powerful, not weak and stupid, like you are now.”

  Caspar came forward. His mouth twitched slightly. “You are absolutely right. Perhaps I would have mistaken this as the same Academy where most of the Nephilims died in 1945 during World War II because of Nazi soldiers turned into demons. Not to mention their lack of education and combat skills.”

  The angel’s jaw clenched. “That was 1945, kid.”

  “Oh, right, right.” He sounded amused. “I think I am mistaken again by the late rumors of your Academy. When the students went on a mission to destroy a demon nest, your fellow Nephilim students burnt an entire building filled with

  humans in which the nest was based. But then, that’s perfectly not stupid and is absolutely wise, don’t you think?”

  “What are you trying to prove here?”

  “Nothing. Nothing. Just stating the facts, is all.” He stared at Zephyr’s stony face. “Oh, oh. Oh, I see, you wanted an honest reply. Well, honestly speaking, your school sucks,” he said with confidence, a nonchalant smile upon his face. “And what she is learning here is actually far better than what your Academy teaches.”

  He winked at Ivy, who gave him a befuddled look. She looked impressed. More so, than he gave her credit for.

  Zephyr slammed the glass upon the table. “And you might be?”

  “Caspar Socrates. I might shake your hand, but I don’t want to get my hands dirty.” He lifted his arms, wiggling his pale, bony fingers. “I get rashes when I have an angel’s scent on me.”

  “Yikes,” Balthazar muttered, his tone much too low for Zephyr to hear. “You like getting killed, don’t you?” It sounded like a warning. Zephyr

  stepped forward, his bald head, glistening. “Actually, I am famous for that.”

  Zephyr stepped back as he saw a silver line dance across Caspar’s collarbone where a big mark had been seared onto his skin. It was shaped in the form of an ankh. He was heavily protected from angels.

  “Why does my heart tell me to kill you, Mr. Socrates?” Zephyr asked coldly. “Don’t know. Your heart might have an answer for that.” Caspar grinned

  broadly and flashed his bright, white teeth.

  “He bugged you?” Capernaum asked as he appeared.

  For some reason, he looked frailer. He wore a shirt and loose pajamas, his hair hanging lank about his head. The skin of his face was creased entirely. Zephyr turned to face the demon and they both shook hands.

  “You got a quite a man, I suppose.”

  “I am nineteen, so I am more like a boy,” Caspar corrected.

  “Ignore him. I think you got my message, but I don’t see Michael anywhere,” Capernaum noted.

  “He’s not coming,” Zephyr icily replied.

  “I specified that this was an alert situation.”

  “Since when did you start thinking that we would listen what a degenerate

  says?”

  “I know you hate me because I am a demon, Zephyr, but I have not changed. I am still with the angels in working and fighting for them.”

  “We don’t need a pitiful, old demon’s help.”

  “Listen . . .” Capernaum’s voice was weak. “You need to understand. We need to speak to Michael urgently. It is very, very important. I wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t necessary.”

  Zephyr scratched his bald head. “If it’s so important, you have to tell me then. I am the messenger and the commander under Michael.”

  “Why can’t you let us meet Michael?”

  “He is weak and ill after the battle he had in the Land of Souls. Since then, I have been working on his behalf. The only thing I am not doing is pushing orders. Michael takes care of that. You tell me what has gone wrong and I’ll present it to him. Whatever his answer might be, I will be sure to tell you.”

  “You have been promoted, I see?” Capernaum as a tad shocked.

  “Because I followed the Will,” he said.

  There was no doubt that there was some history between Capernaum and Zephyr. They had no wish to disclose any of it in front of Caspar, Ivy, and Balthazar. Yet they’d deduced that Capernaum had once been Zephyr’s friend.

  Capernaum made Zephyr sit down and explained everything from Manfred Croft’s plan to Lucifer’s rising ritual at midnight. Zephyr didn’t say a word, respecting the conversation from one half only. Well, it was true. Angels do have a lot of patience.

  “This is terrible.” Zephyr said. “I must talk to Michael now. But your team, or whatever this is, they have committed a horrible mistake. They should have come to us first for help.”

  “There are spies amongst the angels. We didn’t want to alert him because of this so we thought of taking matters into our own hands before anything turned messy,” Ivy replied.

  “Which you were unsuccessful in doing,” Zephyr snapped.

  Ivy looked away in embarrassment, unable to meet his deep, dark stare. Without bidding them a farewell, he walked out of the room as a rising teleportation glow rose and then vanished. Zephyr had
gone.

  “We might have some allies,” Capernaum breathed, his voice a tad low. The joyous tone within it was unmistakable. “We might be able to defeat Manfred, for all we know.” Hope in his tinged his smile.

  “I didn’t see his wings! Angels should have wings!” Balthazar said. His mouth opened wide to reveal his fangs.

  Re

  union

  Death was standing within a large pavilion decorated with granite flooring and mammoth columns made out of marble. A beautiful skylight stretched across the glass ceiling. The stars and shadows above could be seen clearly. Statues of mermaids, cupids, as well as that of different creatures were scattered about occupying every corner and free space available. From where he stood, there was a long, linen carpet with yellow border that spread toward a flight of stairs. The room ended at a big bronze door, which was now closed.

  He was dressed in an overcoat with moons and stars across the fabric, torn dark pants, and long slippers. He also wore a green gem around his neck as if it were a pendant. His hair was spiked and his green eyes were troubled. The kohl in his eyes deepened as the bronze doors opened, revealing a large creature as it entered the room.

  The being wore a long robe that flowed to the floor in red silk. A fire blazed and hovered above his bald head. It became a dark, fiery red as its eyes landed upon Death. A hungry smile broke out across his face and his red eyes ignited.

  “What a surprise!” War replied as he drew close to Death, whose face was placid. “How are you doing, brother?” He embraced him, but Death refused to return the motion. He was frozen with a burning look upon his face. “You look good. I see, you fancy your human skin.” He paused. Death’s stone cold face didn’t waver, nor did he smile. “Why are you here?”

  “Don’t try to show me you don’t know why I am here,” Death quipped and pushed the red cloaked figure aside. “I am not a fool.”