by J F Cain
Beleth looked deep into his eyes to ascertain his sincerity.
“I’m glad we understand each other,” she said blankly and resumed walking.
Abriel followed her again, this time coming closer. His dynamic presence at her side pleased the lonely Archdemon. It was the first time since the Fall that she felt someone close to her and she liked it. Even so, she didn’t intend to take it any further yet. She dreamed of their joining happening in a celebratory climate, after they had prevailed over the other claimants. Outmatching his lovers was the second to last step on her personal ladder of success and the current positive development made her optimistic about the future. Happy with herself, she strolled calmly beside her future partner, enjoying her magnificent garden.
“Why did you wait till almost the very last moment to make your proposal?” Abriel asked with a pleasant and convincingly unknowing expression on his handsome face.
“I first had to consider all the details,” Beleth justified herself.
The truth was that she had been watching him, and as she had hoped, he had shown indifference toward his lovers. It was obvious to her that he was using them. He wasn’t really interested in any of the two. It stood to reason that she would have reached that conclusion since Lyla’s attack on the Guardian castle and Abriel’s gallant rescue of the Succubus had escaped her attention. Nevertheless, his indifference toward his lovers wasn’t the only thing that had led Beleth to take this big step. She was also interested in the Sorcerer’s abilities, which Lyla had alluded to for the second time a short while ago. But there was plenty of time for that. Right now, what was important was their plan.
“The two subordinates are with me,” she said, meaning Paymon’s and Adras’s deputies. “I assume you won’t find it hard to convince the third one to be on your side, without resorting to undesirable methods,” she continued, her tone making it clear that she wouldn’t tolerate any further sexual contact between him and Estaria.
“That’s not going to be a problem,” Abriel replied with a smug smile.
CHAPTER 22
Gaap appeared on the narrow wooden bridge leading to his sanctum. The red liquid of the inner lake extending beneath the bridge gave off a faint light, providing some visibility in the prevailing darkness. Beneath the tranquil surface, yellow currents flowed deceptively slowly, but if a threat arose they shot up like flaming arms to drag the hostile entities down into the corrosive liquid.
Wrapped in his dark cloak, the Archdemon was staring at the lake beyond his feet. Although he looked calm, he was not. He had interrupted his inspection of his forces because Purson had sent him a message that there was something important they needed to talk about and he was worried about what it could be.
The other Archdemon’s form appeared on the lake’s reddish surface. His hairy forehead was furrowed in a scowl and his snake-like eyes were emitting the fiendish murkiness of his nature more forcefully than ever before.
“What happened?” Gaap asked impatiently.
“I’ve got bad news,” Purson declared in an annoyed tone of voice.
Gaap’s expression became icy.
“I hope it’s also important.” They had agreed to communicate only when absolutely necessary. But his ally had the bad habit of not adhering to their precautionary measures.
“The cocktease and the smartass are hanging out in the Garden of Eden,” he snapped. “I passed by to ask her ladyship if she was ready and I found her with the snake.”
Gaap had to remind himself of his ultimate goal in order to restrain himself. Purson’s idiocy was indescribable and an embarrassment for a high-ranking entity of Eregkal.
“That meeting wasn’t necessary,” he said with admirable calm.
Purson ignored the indirect rebuke. His mind was still on the sight that had annoyed him: Abriel meeting his searching gaze with confidence to spare.
“I didn’t like his look at all,” he said, returning to the present. He jerked his index finger at his coconspirator to emphasize his point. “I’m telling you, that snake is up to something.”
Just like you and everyone else, Gaap observed inwardly. “I hope Lucifer didn’t see that meeting.”
His insistence on secrecy and his constant criticism annoyed Purson even more. But he swallowed it and tried to excuse his thoughtless behavior.
“I don’t think so. He’s not taking his eyes off Abaddon,” he replied, his tone betraying his deep contempt for the Lord of Eregkal. At the thought of the dire situation the Celestial was facing, his eyes glinted with fierce satisfaction. “This time he’s in deep trouble. He’s not going to be able to …”
Gaap abruptly interrupted his ravings.
“What did the other two decide?” he asked, referring to Marchosias and Sonnelion.
That you go fuck yourself, that’s what they decided, Purson thought to himself, irritated by his ally’s sense of superiority. “They said they’re with us,” he replied as placidly as he could.
Gaap had seen Beleth’s meeting with the two deputies, but he wasn’t able to reach any definite conclusion from what had been said.
“We’ll soon find out,” he said, his tone wary.
“Do you also have doubts?” Purson watched his ally’s gaunt face reflected on the lake’s still surface. He rarely could tell what he was actually thinking and was never certain about his thoughts. And that really got on his nerves.
“We’ll have to pay attention when they appear,” Gaap said pensively. In his mind, he was picturing the key players in the scheme at the site of the attack and was moving them around like pawns, assessing different courses of action. “Their position at the site will tell us at once who they will ultimately be supporting. We’ll have our forces at the ready to take action if needed.”
“As will the others,” Purson remarked.
“Yes. That’s why we’ll have to take out the other two quickly.”
“That sly viper is the most dangerous one,” Purson growled through his sharp fangs.
“I don’t know if he’s more dangerous, but he’s definitely smarter,” Gaap replied. “He will support the one that’s the most powerful. And, believe me, he’ll be able to tell at once who it is.”
Purson checked his strong urge to say exactly where Abriel could shove his mental capabilities.
“But afterwards we’ll take him out too,” he insisted, both to convince his coconspirator that he wasn’t concocting schemes behind his back and to make sure that he and his legions wouldn’t be facing the fallen Powers alone. Once he had gotten rid of the Sorcerer, his stuck-up ally would be next.
“Of course,” Gaap agreed. “But he needs special handling.” He gestured vaguely with his hand. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a good idea about how to go about it. We’ll discuss it when the time comes.”
Despite his words, Gaap had no intention of harming Abriel. In fact, he would be protecting him from any of the other allies’ hostile intentions. With his stance, the Sorcerer had achieved the impossible: he was trusted by some of the infernal realm’s highest-ranking entities. Gaap was one of them, and he was convinced that the commander of the fallen Powers would keep his side of the bargain between them. The two of them had similar temperaments and he believed Abriel to be the only one capable of helping him achieve his real goal. All the other Archdemons had to be removed until the new order he wanted to enforce had been established.
“Are the other two continuing with their preparations?” he asked, this time referring to Gremory and Sytry.
Purson grimaced contemptuously, making his misshapen face even more repulsive.
“I don’t think we should worry about them. Their powers are about equal to their intelligence.”
Yes, but it’s enough for them to let us do the dirty work and, after we’ve slaughtered each other, pitch up to fight the victor of the battle and win it all without much effort, Gaap added to himself. Most likely, despite the show of studied indifference his ally was putting on, he had already decided how
he would deal with that eventuality. He might even have struck a deal with one of the two. “We should keep an eye on those two as well,” he said with a neutral expression that revealed none of his thoughts.
“I agree,” Purson said amenably so as to not raise any suspicions, since his backup plan included Gremory.
“Are your forces ready?” Gaap asked, wanting to put an end to the discussion.
“They always are,” the other Archdemon bragged.
“Alright, then I will go finish inspecting mine.”
As Purson’s form faded on the liquid surface, Gaap’s ethereal presence slowly dissolved in the red gloom.
The Archdemon wasn’t worried about Abriel’s meeting with Beleth. He and the Sorcerer had been waiting for her proposal and had agreed that he would accept it to put her off the scent of their own scheme. Luckily for them, Beleth hadn’t seen Lyla’s attack on the Guardians’ castle and neither had Purson and Zagan, who would have told her about Abriel rescuing her. So Gaap’s real plan was progressing without a hitch. And Aranes’ decision to seek refuge at the Exorcists’ fortress served him even better.
Abriel was on the physical plane. In his ethereal form, he was sitting relaxed on the bench of a deserted park, enveloped by the darkness of the winter night. The only sounds in the park were the whispers of silence. Along the edges of the path, a lamp cast its pale light on the frost coating the fallen leaves on the ground. The air was humid from the swirls of mist winding around the tree trunks and naked branches.
Lost in his own time, Abriel was pondering everything he had to sacrifice to achieve his goal. Inevitably, his train of thought ended on Abaddon and Aranes. The memory of the two Celestials awakened his longing for his lost paradise and sadness weighed down his soul. This sadness was second nature to him now, but he let no one see it. He felt cut off from everyone and everything, doomed to an unalterable exile that he was doing everything he could to reverse.
His feelings for Lyla, and also those that had strangely awoken for Estaria more recently, couldn’t fill the void in his soul. And, unfortunately, they were a stumbling block to his goal, having created complicated and conflicting emotions in him that were giving rise to many unanswered questions. He couldn’t afford to deal with lovers’ problems right now, which was why he was avoiding Lyla. To achieve his goal, and that was what he wanted most of all, he had to be totally focused on it. The slightest mistake would be extremely costly, not only for him but also for many others.
A voice in his head snapped him out of his thoughts.
What are you doing there? Gaap asked him curiously.
Thinking what the world would be like without Lucifer, Abriel answered, communicating with the Archdemon mind to mind.
A very interesting question! Have you found the answer to it?
I don’t think much will change, Abriel remarked. Lucifer isn’t the one who creates people’s dark nature; he merely influences what already exists.
Does that mean you believe what we are doing is wrong? the Archdemon inquired.
No, it’s necessary, Abriel replied. But I think we’re going to have to delay it a bit.
Why? Because she’s shut herself up in the Exorcists’ fortress?
Yes. Lucard is going to grab the chance to make a move now that we can’t.
I know, Gaap agreed, concern coloring his voice. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. He paused, as if he was considering something. Alright, notify the others, he then said.
Don’t worry, it’s just a small delay. We’re not canceling our plans, Abriel reassured him.
Worry isn’t in my nature, preparation is, Gaap stated as his voice slowly faded.
That’s also in my nature, Abriel thought, suppressing a smile.
At that moment, Gremory was meeting Sytry in the neutral zone.
“Everyone is getting ready for the big moment. The only thing that will save the Dark Angel is if the Celestials support him again, she said with a malevolent smile on her lips.
Sytry nodded, his expression somber.
“That would get rid of quite a few obstacles for us.”
“Adras’s and Paymon’s deputies have also allied with them,” Gremory went on, certain that her ally didn’t know this piece of information.
Sytry wondered if Gremory had found this out by watching them or if she had been given the information by one of the Archdemons of the other alliance with whom she had formed a backup plan.
“Yes, I know,” he lied. “They are trying to gather as many forces as they can in case the Celestials attack them.”
“After the clash, we must move quickly,” said Gremory, her cold voice hiding her worry about the upcoming battle.
As Gaap had predicted, the two Archdemons planned to attack the one who prevailed after the allies had fought. They aimed to take over the forces of the Archdemons eliminated in battle and then attack Lucifer. Even if Asmodeus, Paymon, and Adras regained their legions, the two mutineers would still have more forces.
“There’s no reason to worry. We’re well prepared,” Sytry replied with conviction.
“Yes, it’s true,” Gremory agreed somewhat absentmindedly. “I’ll be in touch about further developments,” she told her ally and left the neutral region.
Whoever predicts them correctly will be the next lord of Eregkal, Sytry thought to himself.
But because he was aware that his plans to assume Eregkal’s leadership could fail, he continued with his usual activities: corrupting humans so that he could reap their souls. It was difficult to corrupt the one he had his eye on, since he was one of the spiritually advanced beings. However, if he managed it, that mighty soul would increase his power and, for as long as he was alive, he would also serve other goals, such as to get rid of Vincent. With that in mind, he sought out the one he believed would serve his purpose in the physical dimension.
Kenelm was in his backyard. He was sitting bare chested and cross-legged in front of the fire burning in his fire pit. His hands were resting softly on his knees, but behind his closed lids his eye bulbs were flitting from left to right, as if searching for someone in the invisible world in which his spirit was traveling. Although his consciousness was in the timeless sphere, his supernatural senses caught the peace-shattering vibrations of Sytry’s dark energy. He came out of his trance and as soon as his consciousness was fully in the physical world, he opened his eyes.
He saw the Archdemon standing across from him in the guise of a handsome young man dressed like an aristocrat of a bygone era. He was in his ethereal form, enveloped in a softly undulating, glowing, greenish aura. The red-tinged shimmer of the fire burning at his feet blended with his aura, creating colorful shapes that made him seem like a fire spirit—something familiar to a shaman. His presence displeased Kenelm but he didn’t show it. He calmly got up from the flagstone floor and looked him in the eye. His long experience as a shaman had taught him not to fear Demons, but not to challenge them either.
“What do you want of me, dark spirit?” he asked, showing that he had recognized the Archdemon.
Sytry knew that it would be a mistake to underestimate the centuries-old shaman by telling him that he wanted to help him find his beloved’s murderer. A direct answer would make him seem more sincere and he might then be able to lay the foundations for a relationship in which Kenelm was dependent on him.
“The vampire you’re looking for is Vincent,” he said blankly, as if he were merely the bearer of news that he would gain nothing from.
Kenelm’s heart stopped beating.
“What do you mean?” he asked with astonishment.
“I mean that Jean’s murderer is Lucard’s underling,” Sytry smoothly clarified, using his dead partner’s name to create a friendly atmosphere.
For a single moment Kenelm couldn’t breathe, as if he had suffered a powerful blow in the chest. But the very next moment he was flooded with rage. He wanted to find Vincent and rip his head off his neck, to finally sip from the sweet cup of reven
ge and rid the world of that filth that had only done harm in its long life. However, even though his rage was swelling like a river ready to overflow its banks, his reason was urging caution.
Think about why the dark spirit is giving you this information, it told him. The vampire is most likely foiling some plan of his or he wants revenge without having to come to blows with the one directing Vincent’s actions—someone who is definitely not Lucard, but is much more powerful. Otherwise the vampire wouldn’t have dared to defy his race’s formidable leader.
Kenelm’s reasoning was correct. Sytry had in fact not found out who was behind Vincent. But he also assumed that it was someone very powerful and he didn’t want to open another front just then merely to teach the vampire a lesson.
Kenelm took a deep breath and tried to control his rage.
“And how do you know this?” he asked, regarding the Archdemon warily.
“Vincent is bragging that he killed a Guardian with special powers and took her sword. And, of course, he keeps on saying that ever since her blade replaced his cut-off hand, he has gained more powers.”
The thought of Jean’s sacred sword becoming a permanent accessory and weapon for the vile vampire made Kenelm’s temples throb.
“Why are you telling me all this?” he hissed.
Sytry began to recede from the physical dimension.
“Because the one who knows won’t tell you,” he answered, wanting to slander the only being that Kenelm trusted completely. He believed that if he isolated him from Galen, he would be able to manipulate him more easily.
Kenelm realized who the Archdemon was referring to and also that, no matter how long he waited, he would never get a clear answer about his intentions.
“I see,” he said enigmatically as he watched the fiendish Ethereal’s incorporeal form fade.
Sytry tried to put him off the scent of his true goal.
“Are you sure?” he asked, smirking meaningfully as he passed into the invisible dimension.
Kenelm was left alone in the backyard, gazing emptily at the fire.