Requiem of Humanity

by Catherine Stovall

  Michael and Gabriel stepped forward, ready to seize the impertinent fool, but God stayed their advance. “Tell me, Abraxos, what has brought you to this discordant state. How do you, my angel, turn your back so completely on the virtuous ways that brought you into the seventh realm? Why do you dissent into darkness?”

  “Lord, you must understand that it is not darkness that is in my heart. It is light and the glory of heaven that has driven me to betrayal. I have not fallen. I will not fall. I saw fault in leaving the vampire unarmed against such a powerful foe. That is all. I gifted her my blood so that she may have the strength to overcome the enemy and smite them. I do not wish to forfeit my existence or the existence of others to demons.”

  “Judgment is not your place, messenger,” Gabriel snarled, his hand on the hilt of the golden sword that hung at his waist.

  Abraxos backed away, hands held out before him. His composure shook and the human form peeled away as if acid had melted the flesh from the core. Only the shimmering residue faintly hung in the air, proving he had not tried to flee. The action would be useless. He could not attempt to hide from the one who sees all.

  “Gabriel speaks the truth. Your judgment may lead us all to peril. If the demon prince tastes the blood of the vampire, he will ingest the power of an angel. Your life force was drawn from my own. You have basted the demon’s fodder in the essence of the heavens and you doubt my rulings? I have heard enough. Michael. Gabriel. Bind him and bring him to the throne. His punishment will come if we survive his blunders.”

  The burning chains encased him, forcing him to take on a solid form. The silvery form hardened until he looked like a man sheathed in pewter and the ghost of his wings hung useless beneath the weight of his bindings. The constriction, painful but not unbearable, restricted all movement. Imprisoned by the cruel fetters and his own shame, Abraxos was taken to the throne of God.

  Eiael and Jaoel stood near the white marble throne looking extremely disturbed by the seraphim that stood as sentries on each side. The massive angels were a fearsome lot in any form but the latest fashion among their kind was to appear as giants with six crimson wings decorated with the image of an eye. Their stone-like faces were beautiful but expressionless as they watched the entrance of the archangels and the Lord. If not for the glory in the light that spread out from within them, one would fear the angels were truly members of the demon horde.

  Forced by Michael and Gabriel to move forward, Abraxos kept his eyes down, afraid that he would weep if he allowed himself to see the solid contempt in the faces surrounding him. He could feel the satisfaction in Eiael’s gaze as the dominion angel surveyed his predicament. Jaoel was less cruel, her soft gasp expressing her sorrow for him. No other angel in heaven was as tender as she.

  “Jaoel, have you brought the peili?” The voice had softened from the booming vocal display to a weary sound.

  The guardian, appearing in her pure form once again, rushed forward and presented the reflective disk. “Yes, Heavenly Father. I have brought the best of my collection.”

  The gold trimmed viewing portals were large and decorative to a degree of excess. The gilded edges had been cast to resemble the image of angels twisted in flight and their surfaces shined free of any defects. Jaoel laid them at the foot of the throne and stepped back to her place beside Eiael.

  The peili lifted up as if by invisible strings and hung in the air so that all of the room’s inhabitants could view the images inside them. Abraxos moaned in dismay as the demon landscape and Vajdahunyad castle came into view. A yank on the chains that held him cut into his throat and silenced his cry. The next tug pulled him to his knees and a phantom hand fisted itself in his hair so that he could not turn his eyes from Jenda’s image.

  26

  Hidden behind a high ledge, Jenda watched in horror as Soborgne clung to Andras. Bile filled her throat, leaving an acrid taste on her tongue, as she watched her former friend entwine herself around the beast’s body. From her position, she could not hear the words when Soborgne faced the demon horde and their voices rose up in a chorus of howls. Jenda feared that the girl would be ripped apart until she witnessed the creatures bowing down before Soborgne.

  Enraged by the ultimate betrayal, Jenda’s temper once again put her face-to-face with the enemy. On her feet and storming ahead, she let her anger find purchase in her words. “Soborgne! You whore mongering, psychopathic traitor. How could you?”

  Her feet skidded to a halt as she reached the beginning of the path. Staring down a winding and narrow passage lined by the sharp teeth and frothing snouts of a mass of demons drained her fearlessness away. Trapped between her desire to smash her fist into Soborgne’s face and her need for self-preservation, Jenda sputtered with pent up furry.

  Soborgne’s black eyes flashed with dangerous intention and her lips curved into a smile that wasn’t a smile at all. She opened her arms wide and cocked her head slightly. When Jenda glared at her, Soborgne added a wink for emphasis. The action was a challenge. An open invitation for Jenda to step up and let the battle begin.

  When she still refused to approach, Soborgne taunted the girl in a patronizing tone. “Oh, come on Red. Worried about the pets? I promise, they won’t hurt you.” As she spoke, her hand ruffled the head of a demon that looked incredibly similar to a large black lizard.

  Jenda raised her head and defied Soborgne’s challenge. Step by step, she passed through the horde. Their chilling breath stank of rot and decay as it coated her skin. Claustrophobia made her want to turn and bolt as the snarling creatures pressed closer. Jaws lined with deadly sharp teeth snapped the air near her face and razor edged talons cut the air inches away from her body. Unable to remain calm, Jenda could feel the blood sweat as it dripped down her skin.

  Soborgne watched with a sense of satisfaction as her nightmare unfolded with Jenda at the center of the dangerous crossing. She remembered the fear and determination she had felt long ago while trapped in the dream that ended in her own death. She had never thought that things would change so much that it would be the innocent Jenda who would face the horrors and endure such exquisite torture.

  The two girls, light and dark, faced each other at last. Only inches of space separated them. Jenda could not attack Soborgne without a final plea. She hated what the girl had become but she could not forget the years of friendship that they had shared. No longer convinced that she could still somehow save her friend and herself from the inevitable end that loomed ahead, she attempted to reason with her one last time.

  “Sobo. Come back to us. This is not you. This is the darkness, the evil. You can fight it. You are stronger and better than this. Don’t make me kill you.” Her words hung in the air between them, a desperate hope on a fragile string.

  Soborgne struck without warning. A powerful clawed hand shot out at Jenda’s face, the razor-sharp talons nearly grazing her pale cheek. Jenda leapt to the side, slamming into several demons who roared with raucous protest before shoving her back toward Soborgne. Their bodies met in a tangle of limbs and ferocious snarls as they struck each other with desperate rage.

  Andras stepped in, smiling like an indulgent parent. He grabbed both girls as they grappled to shred each other with claws, teeth, feet, and fists. Forcing them apart, he placed himself between them. He turned his back on Soborgne and spread his ebony wings wide to form a sight barrier between the two. His eyes bore into Jenda as if he could see all the way to her soul.

  Out of breath from parrying Soborgne’s vicious attack, Jenda panted as she swiped her red curls from her face. Though she was sure her body would be badly bruised, Soborgne had not drawn first blood. The poisonous looking talons had come close to finding purchase in her flesh but Jenda had fought well.

  Prepared to battle to her death, she bared her fangs and hissed in an unconcealed dare. Andras did not answer her challenge. Instead, he submitted to her. He bowed at the waist so that his head was positioned in easy striking range but his black eyes never left Jenda’s face. �
�I do not wish to see you come to harm, young one. You are like a beacon of light, which calls to my spirit.”

  Jenda snarled. “I am the sword that will send your filthy spirit into oblivion.”

  Still undisturbed by her wrath, Andras laughed. “Child, look around you. Do you think that you would survive an attack on me? Your flesh would be devoured as you screamed for mercy.”

  The demons, who had fallen silent after the short fight had ended, growled low in their throats. The longing to taste fresh blood and flesh made them feverish with want. A group of wingless humanoids covered in black flesh shifted forward and jostled the others around them causing a frenzied scuffle among the creatures.

  Exasperated by the intrusion, Andras turned a blood-chilling glare toward his followers and roared, “Silence! Back away you filthy animals!”

  The creatures moved quickly to put space between where they stood and the demon prince. Snarls and the snapping of jaws still accompanied the movement but Andras had to fear for Jenda’s safety a little less. If only he could do the same with a sulking Soborgne, who shot him looks filled with poisoned daggers.

  Upset by the way he had spoken to Jenda and treated the horde, Soborgne could not resist speaking. She struggled to hide the quiver of disgust in her voice behind a tone of feigned boredom. “Just kill her now, Andras. You speak as if you want her.”

  Andras turned slowly, keeping Jenda in his peripheral vision. He offered Soborgne his hand and she allowed herself to be pulled forward. “Why would I not want her? To have the two of you at my side as we conquer the realms would only make things all the more perfect. The Child of Darkness and The Child of Light born unto the demon blood.”

  Jenda hissed, “Never.”

  Soborgne, however, considered the thought in quiet contemplation. A look of pure predatory desire flickered across her face as she ran her gaze slowly over Jenda’s body. Her voice was the same feminine purr that Jenda had heard her use for years on the boys back in Indiana. “Perhaps you are right, Andras. I think the three of us would do very well together.”

  Andras shook his head slightly. “Never is a powerful word, my little redheaded blood drinker. Your choice today will be simple—join us or die. Your body is already suffering a slow physical death in the human world. Your spirit does not have to do the same. You can be my advisor.”

  He paused to look lovingly at Soborgne before he laid his final trap. “We need balance, Jenda. I am a demon, ruthless to the core. Your gorgeous friend here is too passionate to use restraint. You, on the other hand, can help guide us. I do not wish to destroy the world and leave lands laid barren by our hungers and all the races endangered or extinct. You could save millions or condemn them all with your choice.”

  During his inspiring speech, Andras sent out invisible psychic tendrils that etched their way around the two females. The wisps of psychic energy wove into their unsuspecting minds and drove desire into their hearts. Feeling confident in his plans, he watched as Jenda’s resistance waned and Soborgne’s longing grew. The air around him filled with the musky scent of anger, passion, and female wrath.

  Jenda’s eyebrows knitted together and deep lines formed in her forehead. Her voice held notes of confusion despite her attempt to sound strong. “You are asking me to join you? If I turn my back on God, the vampires, and humanity, you will destroy everything I love. You have already torn my best friend away with your lies. A demon’s word means nothing to me.”

  Soborgne responded to the question before Andras could. She slid closer and let the back of her nails gently run the length of Jenda’s arm. “If I asked you, would it make a difference? You speak of me as if I am gone but I’m right here.” As she said the words, the shivering trail of her fingers met with Jenda’s. Soborgne lifted the girl’s hand slowly and placed it gently against her chest. “Do my words still mean something to you?”

  Jenda’s voice seemed lost somewhere in the depths of the intense dark eyes staring into her own. She could not resist the pull of the strange warmth that radiated from her friend. Grown accustomed to the chill of vampire flesh, the heat seemed to draw her body closer. She wanted to be near the false life that had somehow found its way inside of Soborgne. She wanted to chase the cold away and feel alive again.

  Andras’s arms wrapped around the girls as he readied himself for the moment when he could seal his fate with theirs. The threads of passion tightened around the trio and knitted them together, prisoners of the illusion. “I can give you what you want, Jenda. You want to shrug off the animated death that clings to every part of your young body? Anything you want, it’s yours.”

  She could feel her own temperature rise. A sweet balmy feeling crept around her, chasing away the winter in her veins. As if it had a will of its own, her hand rose and she ran her fingers across Soborgne’s delicate face. Jenda sank into the pleasure of the moment.

  Soborgne’s mouth brushed Jenda’s as her lips formed each syllable. “It was always me and you, ducky. It always will be. Blood is thicker than water.”

  Having retreated after the fight, Jenda’s fangs lengthened and the taste of blood filled her mouth as the tiny incisors pierced her tongue. The warm haze encompassing her and the blood that filled her mouth blended in a passionate and dangerous cocktail. She couldn’t move, could barely speak, her entire being was caught up in the embrace.

  The words were a whimper when they finally came. “Always. Always you and me.”

  Andras’s raven colored wings wrapped around them, and in their shadow Jenda and Soborgne’s lips pressed together in a moment of dark unity. Slowly, they explored this new connection until hunger and passion drew them deeper. Jenda’s lips parted and Soborgne could taste the fiery copper and intense fear offered up by the crimson elixir hidden inside.

  Driven by a need that she could not control, Soborgne cupped her hands around Jenda’s face and pushed her tongue deeper. She probed the open cuts with fierce intent. Bloodlust shattered the tenderness of the kiss and the vampire inside her thirsted for the strange power of Jenda’s blood. Her mind struggled to find the source of such a delicacy even as her body rose to the edge of oblivion, drunk with desire.

  Soborgne’s logical side analyzed the substance. Not vampire blood. Not a human life force. Something more profound, something that tastes of vanilla and summer. An influx of light surged through her body as she tried to devour the flavor. Each movement of her tongue on Jenda’s brought a greater draught of blood and Soborgne fed with a ferocious delight until she felt the first stab of lighting inside her stomach.

  27

  He burst through Celeste’s door, no longer the slightest bit intimidated by the white marble statues of Medusa or the lion head knocker. Nothing could stay his relentless need to gather the others and solve the riddle that would save Jenda from a life as a vegetable or death by flames. Barely able to remember to take care with the ancient books, Matteo laid them on a table before searching for the room’s occupant.

  When the doors of her suite slammed open, Celeste leaped from her bed ready to defend her life once more. Fear engulfed her as she waited for retaliation from the Dracul. The lady knew that they would sever her head if they captured her again. If she suffered such damage, no amount of blood from a lovely mortal boy could heal her.

  She moved across the expanse of white carpet in swift silence until she reached the large oak nightstand. Celeste stealthily drew out the only weapon she had ever learned to use. Her life depended on twelve inches of titanium encased in a tube carved from white ash wood that had been tapered down into a wicked point and dipped in witch blood. Never intended as a tool for battle, her maker had constructed the strale to commit covert assassinations.

  Celeste listened carefully as the heavy footsteps approached her door. Poised to defend herself, she prepared to meet her would-be assailant. When Matteo burst into the room, frantic and disheveled, she did not lower her weapon. His eyes went wide and the words died on his lips. His erratic behavior and violent tende
ncies frightened her almost as much as the idea of a Dracul assassin had.

  Not bothering to hide the fear in her voice, Celeste called out to him. “What are you doing here?”

  Shocked that she had been prepared to kill him and was still apparently contemplating the idea, Matteo nearly forgot his purpose. After a moment, he recovered enough to remember his urgency. “I came to tell you that I found the connection. In the book. I found something, I’m not sure what.” As he returned to his fevered state, Matteo’s words began to fall out as if a dam inside him had broken. “Jenda found this book in the library the night she went missing. I found it in our room with her notes. There’s a picture of this tree and a myth about immortal fruit. It all makes sense now. She figured it out.”

  Celeste put away the strale and threw on her robe. Gently leading Matteo into the main room as if he was an invalid, she listened to his ramblings until she got him comfortably situated in a large armchair. She knelt beside him and held his hand. “Matteo. Calm down. I need you to talk to me but I cannot keep up with you right now. Have you eaten? Have you rested at all?”

  Had he been in a normal state of mind, Matteo may have recognized the concern in his old friend’s voice. That hint of real emotion would have worried him. Instead, he continued to ramble, oblivious of the fact that Celeste thought he had gone completely insane with grief. “Better yet, I can show you. The books? Where are they? There, on the stand!”

  When he tried to stand up, Celeste held his arm and forced him to look at her. She spoke slowly, hoping to break through the growing mania. “Matteo, have you eaten? Have you rested?”

  He raked his hand through his dark hair, shrugging away her hand. Struggling to calm himself and his growing frustration he moved across the room to retrieve the texts. “Meredith and Agi made sure I fed and slept. I’m not crazy, Celeste. I’ve found the key. I just can’t read the damn thing.”