Of Kings and Demons

by Han, George

  She landed in the midst of a suburban housing area that engulfed in raging flames. She heard the wail of babies, which stabbed her heart like knife. Residents were on the run, and a particularly acute wailing came from a lady. She sat perched on the balcony of a two-storey structure that was quickly being incinerated.

  Then Gwyneth spotted the Demons. Troupes of ugly Familiars with malformed heads and flagging limbs freely roamed the streets, inflicting damage to the structures. The armies of Demons had turned Earth into Hell.

  But this is no hell.

  Gwyneth clenched her hands into fists and summoned the powers of Winter. Vox of Hiberna! she cried and directed her hands towards the hopping Familiars. There was a crescendo of wind and instantly the Familiars turned into statues of ice.

  Gwyneth snapped her fingers and the fires faded away as a blanket of snow fell upon the houses. She then flew to the entrapped woman and child and carried them to the ground.

  Gwyneth patted the woman on the shoulder. “You are safe now.”

  The lady kept her head bowed, and Gwyneth could not see her face. The Guardian Angel sensed something was amiss and backed away. But the lady raised her head to unveil a grotesque mask of demonic fury—a reptilian complexion with burning eyes and razor-like teeth. The woman’s limbs burgeoned into muscular proportions, with the willowy fingers mutating into long, sharp claws, transforming into a Demon troll. And her baby had turned into a ferocious Familiar shaped like five-legged toad with a monstrous shrill.

  The reptilian Familiar leaped upon Gwyneth and clung to her like a koala bear. But it was no amiable mammal as it sunk its teeth into her right arm. With an easy wave of her left hand, Gwyneth turned the toad-form Familiar into dust.

  She had no time to check her wound before the mother troll lunged at her. Gwyneth cried a spell, Victoria ut Angelus, she cried. A shroud of ice formed around the bloodthirsty troll, immobilizing the Demon.

  Gwyneth inspected her wound and found two rows of bite-marks rimmed by an ominous black color. Gwyneth knew the venom would sap her powers. There was no bleeding from the wound, a chilling sensation plodding through her veins.

  Around her, the hordes of Familiars closed in. Gwyneth tried to stretch her wings and lift off to the sky, but her exertions brought a series of creaking aches. She had never felt this way.

  Once she was airborne, Gwyneth inhaled deeply and blew hard over the burning town. Immediately, the place turned into an expanse of whiteness, covered in deep snow. The hordes of Familiars had turned into a gallery of white statues. With the first light of day, the ice would thaw and the familiars melt away like fluid.

  Gwyneth checked to ensure she was not tailed. The miasma of darkness seemed to ebb, but she wasn’t sure if that was because Demons were running scarce or that her sensitivity has been compromised by the venom.

  Her exertion had brought a shearing pain in her chest. Gwyneth knew she had to find a sanctuary for healing. She needed help—the healing hands of a Guardian Angel to expunge the demonic poison. She thought of Maganus, Jin, and Eugene.

  Gwyneth searched her memory for an appropriate location. The mountains to the west would be ideal for there was frost that would facilitate her recuperation. However, her vision was blurring, and her responses retarded by the growing poison.

  Before she could land safely, Gwyneth blacked out. Like a bird that had lost its bearings, Gwyneth spiraled in a free fall, leaving a trail of fire very much like a comet. The impact of her landing created tremors that were shattered the earth.

  She was unhurt as her powers provided a shield of immunity. Gwyneth struggled to assess her environment but her vision was impaired. She saw a matrix of flowery images and made no sense of it.

  Her last thoughts shifted to Marz, but before she could whistle for him, total darkness consumed her.

  Chapter 31

  Dialogue with the Demon

  The repugnant odor of rot and putrefaction of her environment drove Sarah to vomit. Her captor grunted its displeasure at her weakness, and after she had finished, ordered Sarah in the direction of its stretched pointer finger.

  Reluctantly, Sarah trudged down a flight of stone stairs and at the bottom of the spiraling steps she found herself looking down a long corridor, dimly lighted by torches. Sarah felt her heart pounding with anticipation. When the gargoyle rapped her on the shoulder, she jumped. “You’re scaring me!”

  “Go!” the Demon ordered.

  When Sarah hesitated, he cuffed her on the neck. She swallowed her groan, but she could no longer staunch the flow of tears.

  “Humans,” Eberhard snorted and collared her neck, as if she were a doll, and dragged her to a huge door of oak. He dropped the girl like an unwanted piece of garbage and then knelt. He instructed Sarah to follow suit. Then he spoke in subservient tone. “Master, I have brought back one of the siblings.”

  As if it were magic, the doors opened. The gargoyle rose and commanded Sarah to do the same. Then, without warning, he grabbed Sarah by the shoulder and dragged her into the room. She shrieked but quickly covered her mouth in fear of angering the gargoyle.

  #

  Sarah’s heart was in her mouth. Fear had made her nauseous and giddy. She had expected a torture chamber, gloomy with the possibility of death, but she found a scented room with shelves of books. There was a fireplace in the corner, a globe off to the side and a writing table in the middle of the room. It looked like the study room of a scholar.

  A figure stood by a window. He turned slowly and Sarah bit her lips in fear of another grotesque face. She was relieved when she realized the man was blessed with aristocratic good looks, with his thick hair fully swept back. He sported a slight moustache and his thin lips were stern. His glaze quickened the pace of her heartbeat.

  Sarah felt small and sweat was breaking out on her palms.

  The man stepped over and slapped the gargoyle on the cheeks.

  “Did I say she has to die?” the man asked. “Eberhard!”

  Sarah realized the creature had recoiled in trepidation, just like a dog under the reprimand of the owner.

  “I thought master wanted to …” Eberhard began.

  “Stand in the corner,” the man ordered.

  Eberhard did as told. The man walked to Sarah and bent over. He took her right hand and held it gently. Sarah found his touch amiable and smooth, unlike the abrasive behaviour of the gargoyle.

  “Fear nothing. You are safe here,” the man said.

  “Safe?”

  The man nodded.

  “My granny is dead. So is my grand uncle. Are you going to hurt my brother as well?” When the man said nothing, she continued, her voice faint and quivering. “Why did you bring me here?”

  “Your curiosity is stronger than your fear. A normal child would have crumpled like paper. Nevertheless, I like it, Sarah.”

  “You know my name?”

  “I know many things. Names are never a problem for me.”

  “What’s yours?”

  The Duke of Demons smiled. “Barbatos,” he whispered

  “What a name.” she murmured.

  “You are very unruffled.” Barbatos’s mouth twitched at the corner

  Sarah shook her head. “What’s going to happen?”

  Barbatos chuckled and said in a heavy voice, “Your answers will be revealed soon. Your future, your brother’s future, and everybody’s future, will be unveiled shortly.”

  “My granny is dead. Does my future matter?”

  Barbatos waved it off. “I am sorry to hear that but the Angels were responsible. I have little to do with it.”

  Sarah continued. “It has nothing to do with them. Maganus and his friends protected us.”

  “Ah, acquaintances already?”

  “Yes.” Barbatos walked to a table and poured into a cup. He signaled Sarah to join him, and the girl obliged in silence.

  “Drink,” he commanded but Sarah hesitated, Barbatos repeated the command. Sarah complied and found the contents, arom
atic tea, tantalizing and soothing to her constricted soul.

  “You miss your Angel friends?” Barbatos asked.

  Sarah nodded.

  “I can never understand.”

  “I want to be with them.”

  “Their end is near.”

  Sarah put down her cup and shook her head.

  “Defiance?” Barbatos smirked. “A snap of my fingers will break your neck.” Barbatos smiled.

  “Were you behind the deaths of my grandparents?” Sarah asked, her doe-shaped eyes wet.

  “You are not going to stop, are you? Eberhard should have dropped you in midair!” Barbatos wagged a finger but Sarah did not flinch.

  “An answer please,” Sarah pleaded.

  Barbatos relented and placed his hands at his waist like a victorious Roman general, before sauntering across the room.

  “My child, you are caught in a war, a sad struggle that began long before man knew how to use fire. It was a battle between good and bad, between God and the Devil, and their armies. The angels in their white and with their swords, and on the other side the demons in their red and black, and armed with spears. A war in which we aimed to defeat the homo sapiens, and proved that we are the stronger race, true master of Earth.”

  “We are no weaklings,” Sarah said.

  “The ignorant are entitled to their opinions.” Barbatos shrugged and continued.

  “I am not foolish too.”

  Barbatos continued. “The humans had turned out to be a major disappointment for God. They were born with too many imperfections and weaknesses. Do you know how much they have degenerated from their original state? Do you know how far from heaven they are?”

  Sarah shook her head.

  “They were selfish to their fellow men, greedy at the expense of their love ones, treacherous and ready to betray those who loved and trusted them. They do not understand the ancient values of truth and freedom. They had forgotten the rituals of the ancient. They had no respect for the nature. And the Angels were out to protect them?”

  Barbatos sniggered.

  “It was a battle the Angels cannot win. God created the Kings, a special clan of men with unique qualities, to save the humans. He used his blood, bones and soul to create a group of men and women, the Kings who were the lighthouse to these ships adrift, the beacon of light to these lost travelers. He was so wrong. So very wrong.”

  Barbatos rocked his head backward and chuckled. “Naïve.” He pronounced.

  “You are…wrong. Man has created miracles and many achievements.” Sarah countered in calmness.

  “No doubt they have, but they had too many weaknesses. I am not complaining. Their foibles made our subversion much easier.”

  Sarah inhaled deeply and spoke. “You are wrong.” Her bluntness earned a pointed glare from Barbatos and she looked away. In a shaking voice, she continued. “I remembered stories about the ancient civilizations. The inventions, the buildings, and the feats.”

  Barbatos shook his head “Sarah, your education is incomplete and you failed to mention episodes of their failures which outnumbered the positives ones, three to one.”

  “There are leaders who had done much.”

  “Despite their impressive achievements, look at humanity. They have not changed much from their primal form with their cruelty, greed, ingratitude and savage nature.”

  “Not every King of Men is a failure.”

  “Name them.”

  “The Caesars.”

  “Pretentious, pompous, and weak. None of them survived the temptations of my master, Lord Lucifer.”

  “What about Charlemagne?”

  “Continue.” Barbatos smiled.

  “Napoleon.”

  “Plagued by hubris, trapped by arrogance, and eventually defeated by his men— he was the ultimate failure of the Angels. If he had only been patient and learnt to listen and wait, he could have taken human civilization one big leap forward. However …” Barbatos shook his head in contempt. “It turned out to be a big leap into uncertainty. His failure laid the foundation of the two world wars, Sarah.”

  Sarah stood wide-eyed.

  “Hard to imagine? It is beyond your comprehension. Extrapolation of trends is not always the easiest of tasks for the human mind.”

  Sarah inhaled and continued. “Edison, Isaac Newton, Churchill and …”

  “Good try. The Angels have their occasional victories. Churchill was one of the tough characters, one of the few who beat us.”

  “Why are we involved?”

  “Your brother is the critical link in this battle between white and red. He could be someone that will hurt us in the future.”

  “How can that be possible? We are so ordinary.”

  “Again, answers are elusive. Be patient.”

  “Maybe you made a mistake?” Sarah was loud and firm.

  The Duke of Demons continued as if he had not heard her. “The Angels thought they were smart, but we simply seek out the Kings and hunt them down, one by one like animals, Sarah!”

  “Is killing the solution?”

  “I only need to obliterate those who are against us.”

  “You can’t keep me here!” Sarah cried, but her voice trailed away as Eberhard snarled. “Defiance sealed your fate, little girl!” However Barbatos hissed and sent him back to a corner. He turned to Sarah. “Are you thirsty and hungry?” he asked. Without waiting for her answer, he instructed, with a haughty sweep of his hand, “Wash up and rest!”

  “I still have questions.”

  “Shut up. Answers are privileges that are granted at my mercy.” Lord Barbatos snapped his fingers and instantly Sarah dropped to the floor, unconscious.

  Lord Barbatos smiled, his simple demonic trick which disrupted the brainwaves of humans and distorted their muscle control never fails to work.

  #

  When he was alone, Barbatos deliberated about the progress of his scheme, which has gone as planned. The success fermented a sense of excitement. Sarah will be the perfect bait to bring the rest of the Guardian Angels to my bastion. The battle with the Angels will be just a red herring, an event to distract the Angels from my actual scheme for domination.

  He had spent the last decade on the design of his scheme, with grave concentration and constant mentoring from his master, Lucifer. It was the plan to wrest control of humanity from God, and completely defeat his army of Guardian Angels. He needed only for the right moment and the juncture of history has presented itself. With wars, recessions, and ineffectual human leadership, human civilization has turned decadent and rudderless. They are vulnerable for manipulation. Despite the age-old rules of engagement, rules set by God, that there would be no direct intervention by Angels or Demons, the opportunity was too tempting for Barbatos. A presidential election was just over the horizon, with a change of White House administration pending.

  Barbatos gave voice to his thoughts. “One new King of Men is destined to attain the presidency, but he is no ordinary man. Walter Johnson is a man with a strong mind, unshakeable faith in the good side. He has enjoyed massive goodwill and possessed unshakeable freewill. He is the biggest obstacle to his plans. That was why he has to be eliminated.”

  He inhaled. “Even if Eberhard fails, the Angels will be tricked into believing the assassination attempt on Johnson is just another attack. If Eberhard succeeds and Johnson is dead, the Demons can maneuver their man into the seat and manipulate him to support our agenda. Victor Palmer. Either way, the Demons will prevail!”

  Now, Victor Palmer need to make his decision, taking a step Barbatos has anticipated. Once the senator had made the switch, it will be the beginning of the end for the Angels.

  Chapter 32

  An Unexpected Ally

  An odd-shaped view of the sky, formed by the jagged spaces between the foliage of towering trees, was the first sight that greeted Gwyneth when she woke.

  She tried to stand but her limbs denied her and she dropped to her knees. The paralysis was worse than she�
�d expected. Her senses were blurred, obscured by the demonic virus. She called for help, a long and quivering moan that dissolved into the vast darkness of the woods. Her physical incapacitation transmuted into an emotional despondency, a growing tumour in her consciousness.

  Gwyneth had read about the infected angels and how they were consumed by the dark side in the past centuries. These records were written into the historical annals to remind the Guardian Angels of the sacrifices that had been made in their war with the Demons.

  The virus would impair the verve of the Angels as it debase the intrinsic fabric of the Angels, and rendered them debilitated and impotent. Over seven days, the bitten Angels will gradually lose their powers and angelic disposition, and their physical appearances will deteriorate with falling hair, wasted complexion and twisted ears. They would become a cusp between deformed Angel and mutated Demons. The mutated specie was termed abeo meaning the vanished ones.

  Some of the abeo , whose consciousness of good has been completely consumed, will served in the armies of the Demon Lords; while those who retained the partial consciousness of an Angel, and refused to serve the Demons, will reside in the dark recesses of Earth, feeding on the trash of humanity.

  She shuddered at that stark prospect of her degeneration. Pain and fear now consumed her senses with only a cacophony of insect sounds keeping her sane. How long had I been unconscious? She had lost track of time.

  Gwyneth tried to stand and succeeded at her fifth try, wobbly like a toddler. She checked her surroundings and realized her landing had created a crater. The heat from her crash landing had scorched everything within a twenty-yard diameter, even the towering trees that seemingly touched the skies.

  Her heartbeat pounded in irregular tempo like if her respiratory system constricted by a serpent. The wounds on her arm were growing sore and soon glowed with a grisly green. The sapping pain brought out a grudging respect in Gwyneth for the Demon Lords who are famed masters in the concoction of potent venom.

  Using her hands, Gwyneth dragged herself over to a huge tree. The trunk was so broad that it provided with a nice leaning spot. She could gauge their age by simply feeling the bark, and the wrinkles that lined the girth told her most of them were as old as civilization on the American continent.