by J F Cain
The Demons soon realized that their opponent wasn’t as easy as they had thought. They were struggling to cope with his speed. Abaddon’s red blades were like long flames threatening to burn anything they touched to ashes. Even so, the dark entities didn’t give up but kept on rushing the Celestial with rabid fury—except for Lyla. The sly Succubus avoided attacking him and was only defending herself. She was studying the movements of the commander of the Defenders and secretly admiring his battle prowess, thinking that such a handsome and powerful entity could meet all her needs. Certain that the Celestial had realized her intention not to harm him, she feigned attacking him here and there to convince her overseer that she was dealing with the enemy. A counterattack by the Dark Angel that almost proved fatal gave her the opportunity to abandon the battle, feeling shook up. Without taking her eyes off him, she retreated, absorbing her symbiotic armor into her body and her sword into her hand.
“Come back, you coward,” Abaddon shouted as he deflected a coordinated attack by the other two Demons.
I’ll be around, baby, Lyla thought, and vanished.
Worried about where she was going and if she would try to harm Aranes, the Dark Angel rushed to get rid of his adversaries, and with one less it was very easy. He swiped his sword down, opening a deep cut in Malech’s chest and then spun to the other Demon and plunged his two swords into his ribs.
“I owed you that from our previous encounter,” he told Malech, piercing him with a fierce look.
Screaming with rage and pain, the two Demons fell to the floor and hurriedly left the physical world to avoid the worst.
Abaddon quickly returned to his physical body and lifted the girl’s face to assess her. Her eyes were vacant; she seemed to have no awareness of her surroundings. So as not to risk the Celestials intervening, the Demons had numbed her consciousness so that she wouldn’t sense anything that would reveal the existence of Ethereals. The Celestial placed his palm on top of her head and sent part of his energy into her. He had never helped in this way before and didn’t know if it would work, but Aranes had told him that this was how it was done. His efforts bore fruit. The veil of dark energy dissolved from the girl’s consciousness and she blinked.
“What … happened?” she asked, her voice croaking as she recovered from the torpor.
Abaddon breathed a sigh of relief.
“I saw you come here and I thought you might need help,” he replied in the way that Angels did, neither lying, nor revealing the truth.
“I wanted to leave the hall, but I don’t remember why,” she admitted, looking around her in a daze.
Abaddon gripped her arm.
“Come, let’s go back inside,” he said gently and led her to the door.
As soon as he entered the hall, he made sure that Aranes was fine, reassured her with a glance, and led the girl to a seat by the buffet. He asked a waiter, who was watching in bewilderment as the guests quarreled among themselves, to bring the girl a glass of water and notify her parents. Once he had made sure that she was alright, he went back to the deserted hallway so that he could scan the whole building for any remaining Demons and be free to act if they appeared.
He was right, because Lyla appeared behind a column in another hallway to the left of the entrance. She checked the situation in the foyer and sent a mental command to the Demons to leave. The dark entities obeyed at once and vanished one after the other. The atmosphere lightened in the hall and the humans, now free of the dark influence, began to calm down.
Eiael and the Guardians checked the surroundings.
“What’s going on?” Aranes asked.
“They’ve gone,” the head of the theurgists answered, her expression betraying that she thought the Demons’ sudden departure odd.
“All of them?” the Superior asked, without any surprise.
Eiael was scanning the foyer in search of dark Ethereals.
“As far as I can see, there are none here.” Momentarily interrupting her search for Demons, she turned to Fares. “Calm the people,” she said hurriedly and then continued scanning the foyer for otherworldly presences.
She couldn’t see Lyla in the hallway, hidden behind the column. The Demon was searching for Abaddon inside the building, when she felt a presence behind her. She spun around in astonishment and saw him standing in front of her. Before she could disappear, the Dark Angel’s ethereal body left its physical form from the waist up, grabbed her by the neck and pinned her against the pillar.
“What I hate about you is that you make me forget I’m a gentleman,” he said through gritted teeth.
Lyla lifted her hands to try and pry his grip loose from around her neck.
“Let me go,” she screeched, pretending to be annoyed.
“What about if you first tell me what exactly it is you want?” Abaddon asked, bringing his face threateningly close to hers.
“What do you think I want?” she returned more gently, looking into his eyes, as if wanting to send him a message. She was struggling to maintain her aggressive expression; the only reason she was doing it was because she knew Lucifer was watching her.
The Dark Angel gripped her throat more tightly.
“I’m not in the mood for fun and games,” he spat.
“He sent me … for your beloved,” Lyla wheezed.
“Tell him that to get her, he will first have to go through me, and as you can see, there’s more than one body to go through,” he said harshly.
He let go of her neck, shoving her aside contemptuously. As soon as she was free of his grip, Lyla disappeared, although she would have wanted to stay with him, even under those conditions.
From across the street, Vincent, hiding in a building’s dark entrance, stared at Abaddon with hatred as the Celestial rejoined his two bodies.
Lyla stood in front of the large stone table, prepared to face her master’s wrath. Although she looked frightened, in reality she wasn’t. She believed that she was the only one who could serve the Dark Lord’s interests right now and therefore felt safe. She had purposely told Abaddon who had sent her. She suspected why Lucifer had unleashed her on Aranes and wanted the Dark Angel to know of his plans. She planned to foil those plans and prove her good intentions to Abaddon. The commander of the Defenders had many advantages, and she preferred to make use of them herself.
Lucifer got up from his armchair and strode slowly toward her.
“Why did you tell him I sent you?” he asked and waited for her to answer, his gaze on her icy calm.
“I was in a tough spot … and besides, it’s the truth,” Lyla justified herself, feigning the appropriate nervousness and unease that would convince him of her stupidity.
The greatest of Demons nodded as if accepting her argument, but all of sudden lifted his hand and slapped her hard, making her stumble.
“And since when have you told the truth?” he shouted, evidently unconvinced.
The proud Lyla resisted the urge to touch her cheek, which was burning from the contact with her master’s powerful energy. She lowered her head without saying a word. She had to show that she realized her mistake and regretted it.
Lucifer’s gaze on her was suspicious and hate-filled. He wondered if her limited intellect prevented her from realizing who she was dealing with and the danger she was facing now as she stood in front of him; or if because of her intellectual limitations, there were crazy ideas going through her mind.
“If you disappoint me again, the consequences for you will be tragic. Do you understand me?” he asked, wanting to make sure that the queen of idiocy had gotten the message.
“Yes, master,” she replied, her head still lowered.
“Get lost,” the Lord of Darkness commanded, his voice brimming with contempt.
Lyla happily obeyed and disappeared, drowning in the fury she couldn’t show.
“Useless idiot,” Lucifer muttered with irritation once alone.
Lyla represented stupidity in all its glory. Even so, he was forced to tolerate
her. Her rank in the dark hierarchy made her a force to be reckoned with, but because of her idiocy she was riding for a fall at her own hand, clashing as she was with entities she was incapable of meeting head on. That suited him since he would get rid of her without Abriel holding him accountable for her annihilation. Also, when she had attempted to abduct Aranes after her fall from Elether, she had proved she was disobedient and he could now easily put the blame for the Superior’s persecution on her. These qualities made her indispensable. The other high-ranking Demons were smarter and wouldn’t risk their existence to serve his interests. He didn’t care a jot what anyone thought about the so-called anarchy prevailing in Eregkal. It would further his plans if Abaddon and Aranes thought he had lost control of his subjects and that all the dark forces coveting the position of ruler of the infernal realm would be after them. And he knew that Lyla wasn’t the only one.
CHAPTER 6
In the council chamber of the vampires’ castle, supernatural beings and magical hybrid creatures had gathered to decide on a common course of action. The meager light of the candles burning in the floor-standing candle holder cast shadows on the unearthly mysterious faces with their frozen expressions, who were keeping their personal thoughts and intentions to themselves. A powerful sense of animosity and rivalry weighed down the atmosphere in the room with the smoke-blackened stone walls. Those present, forced into a collaboration they would have rather avoided, exchanged suspicious looks and searching gazes to figure out the true intentions of their obligatory allies. No one trusted the other; some couldn’t even trust the members of their own race.
On a low dais in front of the tightly sealed windows, Lucard, wearing an eye-catching brocade suit, sat in his old-fashioned high-backed velvet armchair. Next to him, enveloped in his black frock coat, Vincent stood with his hands behind his back so that no one could see his amputated hand, which made him feel inferior. Off to the one side of the dais, like figures forgotten by time, eight male and female vampire elders in Victorian gowns and suits stood soberly, their pale motionless faces with their pupilless eyes resembling inanimate wax masks more than the faces of living beings. The undead elders had abandoned their homes months ago and were staying at the castle, where they could attend all the councils that would determine their actions.
Taller and stouter than the rest, Garnage stood out among them. He was neither well-dressed, nor were his face and hair groomed like his peers’ were. His long black hair hung down around his savage face and his dark eyes betrayed his demonic origins. He only wore pants and boots, with a cloak thrown around his shoulders. Two unnaturally protruding arteries ran up his bare chest and down his arms, ending on his palms—an oddity he had created using dark magic and which gave him an advantage over powerful adversaries.
Across from the eerie beings stood Galen and the other five members of the council of werewolf elders. Big and powerfully built, they stood proudly in their plain woolen clothes and cloaks, emanating the calm yet terrifying power of magical dual-natured creatures. Just like the others there, they looked somewhere between fifty and sixty years old. But, unlike the vampires who were well-groomed, the werewolves were more like Garnage. Most had long hair and sideburns or unshaved faces, which nevertheless didn’t possess the vampiric harshness.
Beside the heavy wooden door, two gargoyles sat on their hind legs, still as statues, their red eyes monitoring the werewolves’ movements.
The werewolf Valens broke the silence that had fallen among the Cursed after Vincent’s update on Abaddon’s two forms.
“If what the young one says is true, then the Dark Angel is a serious threat,” he said, troubled.
“I would say he is a serious danger,” the vampire Setam remarked.
“I would agree with you,” the female vampire Namar, one of the smartest of her race, added.
“I would too,” said Drust, another werewolf.
With more confidence than his position afforded, Vincent proudly descended the dais steps and stood between the elders of the two races.
“I’m not afraid of the mongrel like you are. Give me time and some Cursed and I promise his head will roll in this chamber,” he said, jerking his finger toward the old, dirty floor.
The young vampire’s arrogance and impertinence left not a single Cursed unoffended. Even Lucard found his right hand’s presumptuous statement and behavior unacceptable.
Kochee, a slim female vampire, glared at Vincent with her sunken eyes. She could rip him apart in an instant, but didn’t want to clash with the head of the council. Lucard was the most powerful of their race and that made his idiotic underling think he can take a stand among centuries-old entities that had dared to go against even Lucifer.
“Don’t lose sight of your goal. It is the blood of the female Angel that we are after,” she pointed out acidly.
Galen, who had been silent since the beginning of the meeting, spoke up. He wasn’t afraid to go head to head with Lucard, and he would if the vampire didn’t rein in his minion.
“We have never been so close to getting what we wanted. We will not miss this opportunity because of a stupid personal vendetta,” he said severely.
Vincent glanced around at the beings standing to his left and right. All he saw in their faces was suspicion and animosity.
“Only he stands between us and her. As soon as he falls, she will too,” he insisted, trying to convince them.
“In the event that you have forgotten, I’ll remind you that there is also Lucifer,” the werewolf Lyon mocked him.
Lyla hadn’t told her allies about the Celestials’ raid in Eregkal, so the Cursed thought they only had to deal with the dark forces.
“Lyla will take care of him,” Lucard replied instead of his underling.
Lyon turned to look at the vampire head, hiding his hatred for him behind his cold gaze.
“Do you really think she can?”
Vincent, who wanted to retain control of the discussion, spoke up again.
“Given that she’s got Abriel’s help, yes,” he replied with certainty. “I know him very well. The Sorcerer has more brains than all the Archdemons put together.”
“Just like their master does,” Lyon retorted, not taking his eyes off Lucard.
The head of the vampires regarded him with displeasure. He had faced similar objections from some council members and had put considerable effort into convincing them they were not in any danger. He didn’t want to have this discussion all over again.
“If you don’t believe this attempt is feasible, why are you here?” he asked quite calmly, given that he was fuming inside. Lyon was his creation and had once been his servant. Now he was forced to speak to him as an equal. Although infuriating, he had to tolerate it. His goal came before everything else.
The werewolf saw and sensed the vampire’s anger. The high spiritual level he had reached as a shaman enabled him to manage any feelings of hate or rage. But he had never been able to forgive the vampire who had stolen his and many others’ human nature. He had promised himself that one day he would send Lucard’s soul back to the Source. That was the biggest fear of Demons and vampires, and his callous creator was both.
“I agree with the attempt, but I’ll not be going like a lamb to the slaughter. We’ve joined forces so that we can all benefit. It would be unfair for many to be sacrificed just so that one of us can gain from it,” he said, his harsh expression suggesting that might be what the vampire leader intended.
“Of course,” Lucard was forced to agree. “So, what do you propose?”
“For the time being, nothing beyond the obvious—that we don’t fail to take the power of other contenders into account.”
“But neither should we overestimate their abilities out of fear,” Lucard spat out.
“We’re not here to fight,” Galen intervened, breaking up the argument. “We resolved our issues long ago. Right now, we have a common goal and, whether some like it or not, we will have to work together to achieve it. If our
actions are jointly decided, there won’t be any problems. Otherwise, we all stand to lose.” He looked at the assembly. Besides Lucard, who was exchanging menacing looks with Lyon, and Vincent, who had returned to his master’s side unhappy about his plan being rejected, all the others present nodded. “So we agree,” Galen continued. “I propose we monitor the Dark Angel to see what other powers he has developed. Lyla, for obvious reasons, might avoid letting us know.”
“And how are we going to discover his powers if we don’t go up against him?” Vincent retorted.
Everyone focused their attention on him, all wondering the same thing: Why was the clueless idiot there?
“The Archdemons will do that for us. We don’t need to put ourselves at risk,” Lucard answered just to put an end to the stupid questions that were offending him too.
“I don’t think any of them will dare to go against Lucifer,” Vincent insisted, uncaring about his master’s warning tone.
Lucard’s gaze fell on him, dripping with venom.
“No one cares what you think,” he said with a coldness that left no room for misinterpretation.
Vincent looked down, embarrassed and enraged by the insult.
“Forgive me if I overstepped.”
Pleased that Lucard had put his minion in his place at last, the elders continued their discussion, ignoring the young vampire.
“So, do you agree with my proposal?” Galen asked.
Forced to pretend that he cared about their opinion, Lucard looked at his kind one by one. Having received nods from all of them, he turned to look at Galen.
“You have your answer.”
“We must watch him from the invisible world, so that nobody senses us. Physical surveillance will have to stop. Our undertaking is too important to all of us to allow anyone to risk its success,” said the werewolf Aldard, clearly alluding to Vincent.