Vivian’s eyes widened. Her blood surged, pumping loudly within her chest. She sighed. She couldn’t feel anything, as a profound numbness took over. Her lips shriveled as the tension built around her. Her parents were taken hostage and they had bruises and cuts all over their faces. She was sure that they’d been beaten and tortured, for the blood drained from their faces.
“So, now I hope you will reconsider.” Lucifer’s smile grew. “After all, I have to clean up this world.”
***
Siphon could feel his heart pulled apart as Vivian’s name spilled from the archangel’s lips. Vivian. She was in trouble and she was with Lucifer. What ungodly things would that Devil do to her? He wanted to know and needed to find out, but all he could think about was how he could escape so that he could go to the corporation’s head office and fight off the Morningstar.
Raphael stepped forward to attack Siphon, but Capernaum moved in between of them. “We had good memories, Capernaum, but don’t think that for even one second I will not harm you.”
“I am not thinking that at all.”
Without another thought, Capernaum began his attack. He smashed his arm across Raphael’s cheek. Raphael was taken aback. He touched his reddened cheeks and grinned.
“I am an archangel, Capernaum.”
“If you are an archangel, then I am an ultra-demon.”
Metatron moved back and hid so he wouldn’t be included in the fight. Harvard looked at him with distaste.
“You are a disgrace to an angel,” he said.
“I was never a warrior, werewolf. I wasn’t born to be one, nor do I have the skills of a warrior.”
“A person doesn’t become a warrior by training or skills. They become one through their soul and their heart.”
Harvard changed into his werewolf. This was the first time he’d initiated a controlled transformation from a human to werewolf. For many years, he’d tried really hard to control his powers. He used to do yoga and meditation, used to sit alone and played music so he could relax. But when the full moon came, he wasn’t able to control his wolf part and he’d changed, none-the-less. He’d changed so roughly that he’d almost destroyed half of his house. As the time passed, he could see that through his calm demeanor, he was able to control the emotions of his alter-ego, Eros. It was not long before Eros and Harvard became the same person.
Harvard Manning knew how to initiate the change within himself without any qualms, whatsoever. His hands started to grow thick dark hair which spread all over his body. His nose and his lips began to expand outward and his eyes changed colors. His ears lengthened and grew wide. He pulled off his coat as his white shirt was ripped away. His legs became massive and huge, exploding out of his pants, and his feet burst through his boots. Blood dripped off his fingers as long and pointy claws broke through the skin. He howled after his metamorphosis was completed.
The two angels came forward. One went for Eros and the other stormed in Siphon’s direction. Siphon swiftly fought the angel with his bare hands. His wings unfurled, but the other angel’s wings were bigger. The angel brought a long knife forward, a seraph. He slashed at Siphon’s wing but Siphon moved and grabbed the angel as he moved behind him. They flew toward the roof, breaking through it as they climbed higher into the open air.
Siphon pushed the angel as they fought across the horizon. The angel became confused as his adversary disappeared momentarily. To his surprise, a fist slammed into his face. The angel fell back, the seraph loosening from his grip. His clothes were torn as he tumbled into the forest below. Siphon caught the seraph before it disappeared from his view and raced down to see the injured angel. Two sharp branches pierced the soft feathers of his wing. Golden blood dripped from the wounds.
Siphon knelt beside the downed angel and said, “Think before you choose sides. Evil always falls. Maybe it will win now, maybe it will not, but it would surely fall someday because evil never remains stable long enough.”
He plunged the seraph into the angel’s chest. Its skin started to crumple, like a paper, and slowly turned into ashes until there was nothing else left behind. The seraph remained, a distant memory of the one to whom it belonged.
***
Eros grabbed the angel and threw it across the room. The angel regained his balance and opened its wings as it charged toward the werewolf. A seraph was clutched within its hand. He deflected the blow, preventing the angel from striking once more. He pulled the angel’s legs up and shook him hard. He punched and kicked him until he was bruised and spitting blood.
The angel’s eyesight became clouded with every kick. Throwing him about, he tore off the angel’s head before tearing off his hands. He separated its torso and tossed the body parts around. Before he knew it, the angel was no more.
Eros grinned at Metatron. “That’s how I kick ass!” he said with pride. Metatron was too stunned to speak.
***
Capernaum and Raphael’s fight wasn’t quite visible to the naked eye. They were so fast that no one could see them moving their fists, legs, ankles, and heads. Capernaum could predict Raphael’s every attack and Raphael could also do the same. It was a fight of equals with no end. The demon used to train with Raphael before and knew his exact moves.
Out of nowhere, a blade was plunged into Capernaum’s stomach. He stared at the blade with surprise. He couldn’t feel anything, although he heard a series of hymns being played inside his mind. The useless combat action he was having with Raphael had been in vain as he fell down on his knees, the color draining from his body.
Raphael smiled with triumph. “This is the end, Capernaum. Say goodbye to
Earth.”
Capernaum found it hard to speak. He wanted to, but no sound slid past his lips. He touched his wound and felt nauseated. He had been in many battles over many centuries and had been an integral part of warfare, but he had never been stabbed by an Archangel’s Seraph. He knew such a weapon could poison him or kill him. He fell down to the ground, his body shivering softly.
Eros came forward and growled, “You will die now.”
“Oh, please, werewolf. I am an Archangel. My true form is bigger than an Empire State Building. I am the most powerful and ruthless . . .”
Eros grabbed his legs and threw him out of the house before he could say anything more.
“That was quite fast.”
Eros smiled. He knelt close to Capernaum and picked him up within his arms as if he were a small baby. Capernaum’s body was that of an old man. He comfortably cradled the demon’s head against his furry chest. A wingless Siphon strode inside.
“We should go,” he suggested as he noted Capernaum’s current condition.
He tried to help him, but Eros refused the offer. They stumbled out of the house to find that Raphael was now gone. An ominous silence reigned around them, one they could not yet explain.
***
Vivian had no idea what to do. She was so absorbed in her own problems that she almost forgot about her parents. Seeing them on the monitor, bruised and broken, pulled upon her heartstrings. Her eyes filled with tears and her vision blurred. Her hands shook as she wept softly.
She let go of the letter and pressed her hands against her forehead. Her parents were in danger. They were being punished because of her. They were being hurt and tortured because of who and what she was. Her heart was full of pain as she blamed herself for their current predicament. A profound hollow feeling filled her and she wondered if she’d be able to come out of things unscathed.
Her parents looked weak and pathetic, as if they hadn’t gotten a meal in days. Their backs were scored with long, sharp scars, a clear indication that they were flogged. Blood dripped from the cuts and marks, smeared all over their skin. It was too much to take in. Vivian had always been a light-hearted girl and had never gone into danger. She’d never seen anything violent. Now, things had changed and her own parents were suffering because of her.
“Mr. Ramirez Elijah is a consultant of Harold Co. Fi
rm. Mrs. Diana Elijah is practicing law,” Lucifer read loudly from the file he held before him.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked. It was impossible to even say it angrily to the Morningstar. The words refused to come forward freely and were stuck in her throat. “Why are you doing this? Why did you have to involve my parents?”
“Oh, Vivian, I hate to do all this.” He shut the file. “When you want something in life, you have to hurt a few to get it. That’s the truth of life.” He kept the file on the table. “Your parents, they are such good people. They live with such a good status in society. You are rich, you are powerful, and you study in a good school. You’ve lived a great life. Do you really want to give it all up? If you tell me how to bind the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse, I will let them go.” He pointed at the screen. “Right now, without even delaying a second.”
Her mouth trembled. She knew she wanted to lash out at him. To hurt him in the same manner that he’d ordered his men to hurt her parents. Her eyes were blood red, impassively staring at Lucifer with dread and anger.
“Let’s make it easy for you. They have no idea what is going on here. They can’t see you and me. They are thinking they’re being kept hostage because of money.” He showed her his cell phone. “They don’t know that all of this happened because of you. I make one call and my men will let them be. But you have to give me something and you know what that something is,”
Vivian mumbled unintelligibly. Lucifer came forward. “What?” he asked. He put his hand across his earlobe to find her words audible. Vivian spoke again. Lucifer frowned as he drew closer to her, his ear next to her lips. “Yes, tell me, Vivian. Tell me what I want to know. Tell me, what are you saying right now?”
“FUCK YOU!” she cried as she leaned forward and bit Lucifer’s ear.
He fell back with surprise. She tried to tear his skin off as she jerked her head back, refusing to let go of his earlobe. Lucifer snapped his fingers and she flew back against the wall. He promptly pinned her against the wall.
“Crazy bitch,” he snarled as he pushed himself to his feet. He gingerly touched his ear and found several splotches of blood as he withdrew his hand. It pained him to see his life source painted across his fingers. “You are one sick prophet. You little dirty slut! You want to play games? Okay, fine. I’ll play games with you as well.”
He dialed a number and waited for someone to pick it up. “Hello? Yes, Ziklag, you know what to do.” Angrily, he slammed the phone down and pointed at the screen. “Look at your dear parents.”
Vivian was still pinned on the wall. She struggled against her invisible bonds in hopes of setting herself free, but was unable to do so. She froze as she heard several cries coming from somewhere. She looked around, her heart racing as she listened to the cries of someone familiar.
She caught sight of the monitor. Her mother, in a semi-nude state, was being flogged by a man with a hood on. A big whip made out of synthetic leather was swishing back and forth across her back. With each hit across her bare back, a cry slid past her lips. She scrunched her eyes, refusing to see the horror playing on the screen.
Soon, it was her father’s turn. The hooded man wet a white towel and stuffed it inside her father’s mouth, slowly pushing it, deeper and deeper until his cries, shrieks, and shouts were inaudible. The scene spreading out before her was too much for Vivian to see. Her father writhed in pain, unable to make a sound.
“If you don’t tell me now, bitch, I am going to order my men to kill your mother or father,” Lucifer threatened. He frowned with irritation. “And that will happen in front of your eyes, so choose wisely.”
“O – Okay, I’ll do it! I’ll tell you everything you want to know.” Tears fell down her cheeks. She couldn’t take it any more. Her parents were suffering because of her.
Lucifer unpinned her from the wall and he snapped his fingers again. Vivian sat down on the sofa and concentrated hard to find the information he requested on how to bind the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse. His brows arched and his lips pursed as he watched her, reassuring himself that she wasn’t doing anything mischievous.
She fell back onto the sofa. Lucifer wasn’t in shock. He had seen prophets do the same thing before. The lady with the white eyes and long hair was not Vivian, but someone else.
Her voice was raspy as she spoke. “What do you want to know?”
“I need to bind the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse,” Lucifer said, pacing the floor in agitation.
“To bind Famine, War, Pestilence, and Death, you need to break the four
seals.”
“Four seals? Ah. Of course! I should have known.” Lucifer smiled. “I should have remembered. The four seals are personal belongings of the Four Horseman. Excellent!”
Vivian shook her head. The raspy voice and the white pupils were now gone and she was back to her old self. She touched her forehead. “Am I – Did I tell you what you wanted to know?”
His expression was stable. “Yes.”
“Let my parents go, then,” she said with little hope as she took a step forward.
He reached for his cell phone and began to dial a number, but stopped in mid-action. He grabbed the remote and switched off the screen.
He turned to face her. “That was a recorded tape. This wasn’t happening in the present.”
“What do you mean?”
“I recorded that tape of your parents being tortured before I killed them with my own hands.”
So
undless Whispers
Caspar paced the room as he tried to think of all the possibilities where the Prophet could be. Perhaps she’d gone out for a drink or some snacks. The prospect didn’t seem likely, though, as there were snacks aplenty through the house. A veritable feast she could enjoy any time she chose.
Perhaps she needed fresh air and that’s the reason, she might have gone out. Yet there was no one on the beach. He came up with the most likely possibility for her sudden disappearance. Lucifer had kidnapped her. But how? Had he taken her when she’d gone out for some fresh air while Fib was sleeping? Had she found Lucifer and his demons ready to whisk her away at a moment’s notice? There were so many variables to consider and each of them was the most likely.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the shiny ring glint on Hope’s finger as she kept rubbing at it in nervousness. He found himself deep in though when a knock sounded upon the door. Ivy hurried away to answer it. Balthazar stood to the side, lost in his worries.
Ivy opened the door to find Harvard standing before her wearing tattered clothes. His chest was chest and his pants and shoes were scorched. Within his arms, he carried the still body of an old man. Siphon held up the rear as he tried to support the old man’s leg.
“Sir! Capernaum!” Ivy cried.
Harvard carefully deposited Capernaum upon the sofa, who whispered to himself as if uttering prayers. His face was paler than usual and his bones were visible
in the sharp light. A deep, long serpentine wound ripped across his stomach, black blood coating the jagged edges.
“It was the Archangel’s Seraph,” Siphon began. “He’s going to die.” His voice was sad. Caspar was surprised to see an angel feeling sad for a demon.
“But he can’t!” Ivy cried, blinking rapidly to hold back her tears off. She knelt beside the sofa and gently patted the old man’s hair in hopes if
seeing him improve, but nothing happened. She looked at Harvard and Siphon, feeling tired and frustrated.
Siphon caught Ivy’s shoulder and turned her around. “He’s not going to live long. Perhaps an hour or so. We can’t do much about it, I’m afraid. We brought him here to give him a bit of comfort before he slips away.”
Caspar found himself at a loss for words. Capernaum was dying and the Prophet had been kidnapped. Death was nowhere to be found. They were in deep trouble. He leaned on his cane, using it for support.
“Where is the Holy Sword?” Caspar inquired.
Everyone’s attention
turned toward him. He now sounded burly and authoritative.
“Where is the Holy Sword?” he asked again.
Siphon and Harvard exchanged glances, as if they were keeping that information for later. Siphon met Hope’s gaze. She shook her head and looked away.
“Is she the descendant?”
Caspar nodded. Siphon confronted her and held on to her hands. His eyes widened as realization dawned. It wasn’t her hands he was holding, but a finger. A small signet ring beautifully crafted with silver inscriptions on it was wrapped around the slender digit. Sigils of a pentagram, the symbol of fire, an upward triangle, the
symbol of water, a downward triangle, and the alchemical symbol for earth and water shown clearly across the ring’s surface. Her ring was the Seal of Solomon.
“You are wearing the Ring of Solomon and you didn’t tell us?” Caspar accused angrily.
“What’s so special about this ring?” she shot back, feeling affronted, for she had no idea about the ring’s true significance.
“This is the Ring of Solomon,” Siphon said. “Solomon used to wear it during the time of his reign so he could control the magical entities who wanted to make trouble for him. Where did you get this?”
She stared at her hand, her brow slightly furrowed. “It’s a family heirloom, passed to me from my mother’s side before she was bed ridden.”
Caspar came to stand before her, gingerly taking her hand in his. “Ah, now I see. This explains why Solomon’s apparition is always with you. Because you are wearing his ring, he is able to connect to this world and you.”
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