Repossessors of Souls: Expendable Pawns

by Danae Ayusso

  I could honestly say that I had never put that much effort into a man, or a woman during that brief lesbian phase I went through, before.

  The doors groaned in protest as they slowly swung open, and I looked up, forcing a smile at the man looking down at me with white on white eyes.

  “m’Lord, I need to do some research on angels,” I grumbled under my breath.

  Baldr laughed. “I was wondering when you would stop by, Child.”

  “Sorry. It has been a bit hectic to say the least,” I apologized.

  Again, he laughed. “So I have heard. Come in, Child, and let us find you some answers.”

  He closed the doors behind us, and I took a seat on the ground and looked up at the beautiful night sky above us. The library wasn’t like any library or study I had ever seen; there were no books, no shelves, nothing overflowing with parchments, just an open field of the softest emerald grass I’ve ever felt. The sky was always that of midnight from a million years ago; nearly black sapphire with countless stars that constantly streaked across the canvas, but there was never a shortage of them. The wind was slightly cold, but not uncomfortable, and it tasted of salt and flowers that had been extinct since before fire was discovered by early man.

  Baldr sat down next to me and looked up at the sky.

  I had never understood why he did that, since he was blind, but the eloquence and passion in which he described each star made you long to be blind as well so you could experience what he saw and marvel in its beauty as he does. Loke explained that Baldr, the Norse God of beauty, love and happiness, could see what was on the inside, and that was where true beauty came from, so that was what he saw.

  Personally, I think that was the closeted romantic in Loke coming out. Don’t get me wrong, it was a lovely thought, just not one that I was buying stock in.

  “What do you seek?” Baldr asked.

  “What do you know of a rude, arrogant, cynical, belittling, asshat of an angel named Angelus?” I asked.

  Baldr laughed. “Not much, but I cannot tell you what I do know, Child, you know that. However, I can answer specific questions, to an extent.”

  Damn it. I totally saw that one coming.

  Think!

  “Lord Loki called him the Finder of Lost Souls,” I specified; it was worth a shot.

  “Loki is a pain in the ass,” the beautiful blond haired man laughed. “There was a level of angels… No, not a level, they were simply a group, yet they are supposedly no more. They possessed a unique ability, a heightened gift of sight if you will, that went beyond all of the spectrums and sub-spectrums.”

  “m’Lord, I don’t understand.”

  “Think of them as Heaven’s Hellhounds,” he said and cocked an eyebrow.

  My mouth fell open with a popping sound.

  “Exactly,” he said. “They are very rare and, it is my belief, that there is only one left in existence.”

  I swallowed loudly. “Angelus?” I whispered.

  He shrugged. “Perhaps. Their identities were kept secret because of how unique they were. Rumor was that they followed their father’s word to the letter and never questioned it…all but one.”

  So not Angelus, he would slice his own balls off with a dull spoon if daddy dearest told him to do so.

  “That unique one turned their back on their family and world, their beliefs and sense of duty, and left when their father’s word was no more.”

  Yeah, totally not Angelus. Damn it.

  “Do you have a book of bracelets or something like that?” I asked, trying a different route.

  Baldr’s brow furrowed. “You will have to be more specific, Child.”

  I wrapped my hand around his wrist. “Brass or copper, shiny and inch wide, delicate runes and possibly angelic strip carved into its mirror surface. It’s fitted, it doesn’t spin around so I’m not sure how it was placed on there, maybe he grew into it,” I said, totally pulling that all out of my ass. “But he never takes it off, and by the way he looks at it, I’m assuming that it’s been with him a very long time and is very important.”

  Baldr nodded. “That narrows it down some. Remember that copper and brass were very popular means to craft by in ancient times.”

  “Thank you.”

  I turned my attention back to the sky and waited for Baldr to return with the books I requested. That was the only thing that I could definitely find out the truth about since it was the one thing that he hadn’t told me about, thus he hadn’t lied about it. It frustrated me though. He frustrated me. Why would he go to such extremes to keep me from knowing him? Was he bad or evil, or was that just another bullshit lie in order to push me away?

  “Here you go,” Baldr said, startling me. “Sorry.”

  I groaned, eying the five ungodly big books in his hands.

  “I know,” he said with a chuckle. “I did warn you that it was a common material. While you look through these, I will get us something to eat. Try not to have too much fun,” he teased then vanished, leaving the stack of books in front of me.

  The extremes my angel made me go through in order to understand him. If I discover that he was just a boring ass man that liked to play hard to get, I was going to take him up on his offer to kill him.

  Book one: nothing.

  Book two: nothing.

  Book three: he could be wearing it as a fertility marker, trying to get pregnant or to aid in lactation. That would explain so much, and was so wrong at the same time.

  Book four: everything was ceremonial for pagans; something that damn angel would never be a part of and would have cut his hand off in order to get it off of him.

  Frustrated, I didn’t even bother opening the last book and tossed it on top of the others. It bounced off and landed on the floor.

  Lovely, nothing is better than destroying a ten-thousand-year-old book that belongs to a Norse God. That just screamed intelligence.

  I carefully picked the book up and started to put it back when something pulled my attention. Curiously, I folded myself down to the grass and rested the ancient book on my thighs then started reading. “The Mark of Zaapiel,” I mumbled under my breath, my fingers caressing over each word that left my lips. “That name is familiar to me, but why? Damn it, Zion, think! Wait. Zaapiel was the angel commissioned with punishing wicked souls, and ultimately became the driving force behind tossing the Fallen, those that sided with Gabriel, out of Heaven. But Zaapiel was cast out as well; his wings clipped, immortality taken from him because of the punishments he dished out to those that didn’t side with Gabriel, those that still followed Michael and their father’s word, those that other’s had vendettas against. He was a prison warden or guard, in essence, for hire. I remember… I remember hearing that name when I was pulled from Hell.

  “Weird,” I mumbled, shaking my head, trying to clear the images flooding it. I turned my attention back to the book. On the page was a simplistic drawing of a cuff much like Angelus’ bracelet, then again, most of the others looked alike as well, but this one had delicate runes and script carved into it, and as I moved the page, the markings on the paper illuminated in orange and gold light.

  “The shackles of Zaapiel were forged from the deepest pits of Hell and blessed by angelic intent... Intent is just another word for ass backwards angel magic so stop sugar coating it. Those that harbor the mark, meaning the shackles, wear it for life.” I drummed my fingers on my chin, “So it’s like a scarlet letter, and he has the audacity to call me a whore,” I scoffed.

  I turned the page and gasped then snapped the book closed.

  “No!”

  I started down the stairs, but after a hundred steps, I said fuck it and jumped over the railing, flipped around twice before my feet touched the floor below. I pivoted and started towards the gathering room when I stopped and looked at the trickster sitting on the bottom step. He was looking at his hands, his bottom lip was pouting out, and he wouldn’t make eye contact with me.

  “He went back,” Loke said from the b
ase of the stairs.

  “What? Why?” I demanded and hysterics started to creep up on me.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. He talked to Thor,” he said then made a face, “before he left. So obviously he’s scheming shit without you now. He better not get you killed or I will kill him,” he warned me.

  “Loke, that’s sweet, in a totally messed up way, but I don’t think you have to...” I started to assure him that everything was fine, and that Angelus would never do anything to hurt me, when a severe stabbing pain in my stomach caused me to double over.

  No….not now!

  The room spun and I collapsed to the floor.

  Loke was instantly at my side and was yelling my name, trying to shake me awake, but it was futile as my world turned black...

  “Father, you cannot be serious?” Karael snarled. “A demon, in Hell?”

  The bright angel-sized form of pure light paced the length of the room and back again. “When have I ever not been serious?” the voice boomed; it wasn’t irritated or haughty, it was saddened more than anything, but the unmistakable power in each of his words caused the ground to shake under the angels standing at attention.

  “That is not the point,” Karael mumbled. “This is ludicrous and I will have no part of it.”

  “Indeed,” the light mused, “and that is why you were not summoned, your brother was,” he said and turned to Angelus and nodded to the angel waiting for orders. “My talented son, endlessly dedicated and skilled like no other,” he said softly. “A distraught father has called upon me for help in a most dire situation, and I cannot simply ignore his pain and pleas. In the darkest pits of Hell is a lost soul, a soul that was never supposed to be there to begin with...a soul that was never supposed to be possible. I need you, my talented son, to locate that soul and pull it from Hell.”

  The gathered angels gasped.

  Angelus nodded once, agreeing without question as always. “Father,” he said, “may I inquire as to what is so special about this demon that would warrant such a response from Heaven and for the punishment which I must endure for breaking the rules?” he inquired.

  The light waved the others away, leaving only him and the dedicated angel. “Even the Children of the Dark pray to your Father. Not all of them are followers of Lucifer, and this one has been a very dedicated Child of Light before the war of Heaven.”

  “I don’t understand, Father. If he was a Child of Light, why was he cast down to Hell?” Angelus asked; it was completely unheard of and pained him greatly to think that one of his brothers was being held captive and no one had attempted to free them yet.

  “As with everything, pieces were placed throughout the worlds in order to maintain the balance. Much as I am asking of you, I asked the same of him and without question, he made the ultimate sacrifice. And now I must repay him for that, thus I ask this of you. You do not have to accept the task, Son, but you are the only one that I trust with it.”

  Angelus nodded, he had never heard his father speak like this before. “What makes this soul so special? It is one soul, a demon at that,” he asked, curious more than anything. Never had he questioned his father, and he wasn’t questioning him now, but he felt the need to know.

  “From a single grain of sand,” he said, “a beautiful pearl is made in the most undesirable location. However, that pearl, that beauty created in the most abominable environment possible, could spark a war over who gets to claim it as their own. With that said, would you blame the grain of sand for becoming the pearl, or would you blame the undesirable environment in which it grew and was created, or would you blame those that coveted it and started the war?”

  Slowly Angelus shook his head. “Father, is another war on the horizon?”

  He sighed. “No. Not for our world, but Lucifer covets this soul and will stop at nothing to acquire it. And if that happens, I will not simply allow the pleas of my child to go unanswered, and that will force my hand and bring war to my children, once again, but at what cost? You are the last means to prevent a war, my son, and it is with a heavy heart that I ask of you what I am, but you are the only one that can find and save this soul, and in return, it will save you.”

  Not entirely sure what that meant, Angelus nodded. “It shall be done, Father.”

  The blinding white of Heaven spun to gray and black, and out of the shadows the angel walked, gold short swords in his skilled hands, cutting down demon and foe as he went. For nearly a century, the lone angel traversed the darkest levels of Hell, chasing the glowing presence of a soul that he could never seem to get close enough to gaze upon with his own eyes. He wanted to question his father, pray for guidance and a reprieve, or assistance, but the stubborn angel had minded his tongue and continued to fight to do his father’s will.

  When he rounded the bend, he pulled up short and lowered his blades.

  “Karael, what are you doing here?” Angelus demanded. “Has father sent you to offer me assistance?” he snarled, never had he failed before and to think that his father viewed his lack of progress as failure irritated him.

  Karael shook his head. “Father is gone, he has been absent since you left. Abandon this ridiculous endeavor and help me and Gabriel to restore order in Heaven.”

  “What?” Angelus snarled and slammed his brother against the wall. “Where is Father? What has transpired?” he demanded.

  “He’s gone,” Karael snarled, shoving Angelus off of him. “He sent you to Hell and just disappeared. Michael is attempting to keep everything in order, but you know as well as I do that Michael cannot tell his ass from a hole in the wall. Help me restore order, only the Soul Seekers can save our world now.”

  The irate Soul Seeker snarled and pushed past his brother. “I will do our father’s will, and when I return to Heaven, I will gladly accept the punishment that awaits me. Gabriel is like her twin, she is nothing but a power crazed bitch that wants the throne as her sibling holds in Hell.”

  Karael glared at his brother, watching him disappear into the darkness. He called out after him, “You are dead to me, to all of your siblings of light. When you return, if you return, you will be cast down with the others after you are punished, and only word from our father will save you. Which, coincidently, is no more!”

  Angelus struggled to ignore his brother and the pernicious words echoing off of the walls and shaking the ground under him, but he knew them to be true. Karael was beyond persuasive with a tongue that could negotiate a trade of wine for your soul from the Devil. However, it was that tongue that Angelus knew was really whispering directives into Gabriel’s ear.

  Was this the war Father warned me about? Where did he go? Why did he give me this herculean task and then leave? For days years Angelus mentally scrambled to figure out what was going on and why as he absently drove his angelic weapons through all those that crossed his path.

  When he crested an incline that would descend, delivering him to the lowest levels of Hell that he had never imagined existed, his path was stopped by a woman; her flowing white hair wrapped around her pale naked body, her white on white eyes burned with power, and it dropped the angel to his knees.

  “You seek Zion,” she purred.

  Zion? Angelus thought, confused as to why she would be stating that he was seeking Heaven when he was obviously in Hell by choice.

  “I am seeking a soul that has been taken from a father, which my father has commissioned me find,” Angelus spat, struggling to get to his feet.

  The woman waved her hand through the air and Angelus’ body slammed into the stone ceiling above them before he slammed back down to the ground. Her head tilted to the side and Angelus rose and dangled in mid-air.

  “The soul in which you seek, Seeker of Souls, is Zion. Zion to you. Zion to me. Zion to your father. Zion to all of our kind. Zion will never return to Hell. Zion was never meant to be here to begin with,” she purred, her words coming out as a seductive aria that wrapped around the flailing angel.

  “What are you talking abo
ut, you demonic bitch?” he snarled, struggling to close the distance between them, but his body couldn’t break free from her demonic hold.

  “The soul,” she repeated, “in which you seek, is Zion. Your own personal Heaven in your heart,” she explained. “I can take you to the soul in which you seek, but it will cost you.”

  Angelus snarled. “Never. You will not have my soul!”

  The woman rolled her white on white eyes. “I don’t want your soul, you pompous jackass.”

  Confused, he stopped struggling and she lowered him to his feet. “What do you want?” he reluctantly asked.

  Suddenly the demon appeared in front of him and pressed her icy index finger against the center of his forehead and his mind became a swirling fog of incoherency and euphoria.

  “What you give to Zion,” she whispered, “you will never have again. It will be your own personal Hell, but it is the only way that you will experience your own personal Heaven. Do you agree to the terms?”

  Absently he nodded and she smiled then pressed her icy lips against his, and the dark stone corridor spun around them.

  When it settled, the woman was gone and Angelus’ mind was clear, sharper than it had ever been before, and he stood ready to fight with swords in hand.

  The area was empty aside from the bodies of demons and various Children of the Night that were strung around the cave; their swords were still sheathed at their hips. A fire burned low in the large pit in the middle of the area; various metal pokers, brands, and other barbaric means of torture were resting in the embers, turning the iron tips red hot. The large cave was covered in demonic runes and angelic markers, an impossible shielding that caused misdirection in his attempt at locating the lost soul. Along the back wall was a iron chain that attached to the stone, and his eyes followed the thick links across the floor and into the darkness of the far corner.