The Demon

by Rick Bonogofsky

  “Well, I didn’t think you’d come to me,” he quipped once Alighier caught up. “Where is Dante?”

  Alighier, still astride his horse, began to tell him everything.

  Ariel stumbled away from her viewing mirror, gasping in horror. Without her proximity, the mirror’s image shifted back to the reflection of Ariel’s chamber. What was the liaison doing? She bolted from her quarters and ran down the pearly halls of Heaven’s main palace. Through various halls she ran, turning corners and diving off balconies to fly to lower levels. She flew from the tower housing her living space to another tower across the ivory palace grounds. She dove through the air, shooting past other angels in flight, and spread her wings just in time to bank sharply around a corner. Her wings folded tightly to avoid hitting the sides of the entrance to the tower the entered, and used the momentum of her flight to break into an all-out sprint. She ran past angels, almost knocking one over in her haste. Through more halls and down several flights of stairs, Ariel finally reached the bottom level of the tower where she found a solitary door leading to the only room on this level. She slowed to a trot, then stopped altogether when she reached the silver door. Dim lights shone all throughout the area, casting the silver in a soft, off-white glow. To Ariel, it looked ghostly. She always felt unnerved by it whenever she came here.

  Ariel knocked softly on the silver, ghost-like door and waited. She didn’t wait long before Artemis opened the door to his quarters.

  “Yes, Ariel?” he greeted. His armor was off, leaving him in a grey robe accented by silver and blue runes. The edges were tattered and worn, much like his armor on its stand. Even his blindfold looked aged and frayed.

  “I have located the liaison,” Ariel replied.

  “Your voice shakes,” Artemis observed. “And you’ve rushed here. What happened?” His gentle tone did little to hide the command of his words.

  Ariel took a breath to steady herself and said, “He works with the demon.”

  Artemis smiled. “Does he, now? Interesting. Keep an eye on him and keep me updated.” He turned to close the door, but stopped as a thought came to him. “Also, I know you can send messages through that mirror of yours. I appreciate the gesture and the haste in informing me in person, but please, in the future, use the mirror. Thank you.” Artemis closed his door and went back to what he was doing.

  Ariel stood there for several minutes, dumbfounded. How did Artemis know so much about the mirror she had created in secrecy? And why was he not more concerned that their liaison was working with the demon they wanted killed? She decided to go back to her quarters and ponder what she had learned. Maybe she would have to step in at some point and take action, rather than simply watch as she had for over forty years.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Dante wandered deeper into the ruins, absorbing every detail of the demon’s handiwork. Everything reminded him of the vision he saw just before his magical abilities returned. He had seen destruction like this up close before. It was so familiar to him that he began to wonder just how long he had really been hunting this demon. Was he one of the angels Alighier mentioned before? It seemed reasonable to him, but without his memory he just wasn’t sure. He always remembered the flames of the destroyed cities as if he had been there. Dante rounded a corner and found something that cemented the memory of the attack in his mind. A lone body lay peacefully amid the ruins, hands crossed over her chest. The corpse was still charred beyond easy recognition, and the passage of time had taken its toll upon the remains, but it was clearly perceivable as a woman. Upon closer inspection, Dante saw a handprint on her side. Without thinking, he placed his own hand in the mark left in her side. It was a perfect fit. Once again, Dante’s hand began to warm up, as it did with the marble column. This time, he kept his hand there until his vision went blurry.

  Dante found himself kneeling next to the woman in the middle of a burning building. Tears streamed down her pale face, her brown eyes pleading Dante to save her. Her sandy blonde hair was matted from blood and dirt and soot from the fire. His right hand was pressed firmly on her side, blood pouring between his fingers. She was shaking violently, clearly in shock from the grievous wound. The cut was clean, caused by a single sword slash. Dante’s left hand was holding hers and a soft golden light emanated from his right hand. The wound closed, the bleeding stopped, and the woman’s shaking slowed. But it was already too late. Her soul had left her body. She died in Dante’s arms. All he managed to do was give her some peace and comfort before she died. As pained as he was at her passing, he was glad at least for the comfort he brought her in her final moments. He laid her head gently on the ground and placed her hands over her chest.

  Dante came back to the present, still kneeling by the woman’s side. He had tried so desperately to save her. Who was she to him? He couldn’t remember ever seeing her before. Perhaps she was the only one still clinging to life in the demon’s wake and he was an angel trying to save the town. Other memories assailed Dante, showing images of him approaching a burning building where he could see two children attempting to escape from the demon’s onslaught. They too were beyond any aid he could offer, but that didn’t stop him from moving toward them. Unfortunately, the building collapsed, crushing the helpless children before Dante could get to them. He shook his head, clearing the images from his mind. He failed to save them. He had apparently tried to help them all, but he had failed. Maybe he deserved to have his powers stripped from him if he could not save those he was supposed to watch over.

  He could not bear it any longer. Dante made his way out of the city ruins and headed for the hill where he had left Alighier. He needed to move on from this place.

  After reaching the hill, Dante realized the old man was missing. He saw their tracks in the dirt on the road, but Alighier’s seemed to disappear.

  “No…” Dante breathed. “Don’t tell me he teleported away while I was gone…”

  Almost as if in response, Dante heard hooves clip-clopping on the road he and Alighier had traveled upon. He looked toward the sound and spotted a rider and another man walking up the road. Alighier sat atop the horse, smiling and waving. The other man was the one from Alighier’s vision of Massalia. Dante’s hand immediately went to his sword.

  Before he could draw it, however, Alighier yelled, “No! He is here to help us find the demon!”

  Dante relaxed his arm but never let go of the sword’s hilt. He stared at the newcomer incredulously, wondering what the old man was talking about. As they drew nearer, Dante got a good look at the man’s face. It triggered another memory, this one of a room full of hooded figures seated in a half-circle around him. A winged man sat in a throne in the center, but his features were obscured by a fog, likely a gap in Dante’s memories.

  “Who are you?” Dante asked the man.

  The man bowed, smiling, and said, “I am Azrael, yet another on the hunt for this demon who attacked so many towns.”

  Dante released his sword reluctantly. He welcomed whatever help he could get in locating the demon, but he felt in his gut that Azrael was not to be trusted. However, in good faith, he extended his hand for Azrael to shake.

  Azrael shook Dante’s hand, noting a slight warming sensation in the exchange. Neither said anything about it but both felt it. It was as if they were destined to meet again. Both men knew that they knew the other somehow, from before they lost their memories, but neither could remember how.

  Dante’s mind kept going back to the beach where the battle had taken place. Even if this man was once his enemy, Azrael was now offering to help Dante hunt down and kill the demon. Unless given a reason to do otherwise, Dante would work with Azrael until the job was done.

  Azrael looked deep into Dante’s eyes, searching for a weakness he could exploit later, when the two would inevitably come to blows. He saw only strong inner power in the man. Was Dante an angel? If so, he had lost his wings at some point, likely a punishment of some kind. Azrael couldn’t help but think of a law stating an angel
was forbidden to attack a demon on Earth. The reason for it was lost to him, but the memory of such a law led him to believe Dante may have lost his powers because of that. It was good enough for him. Without magical power, Dante would fall easily to Azrael’s blade.

  Alighier broke the silence first, saying, “So, Dante, what did you find in the ruins? Anything we can use to hunt the demon?”

  Dante tore his eyes from Azrael and shrugged. “Not much to go on, to tell the truth,” he replied. “It looked like he mostly used magic, only using his sword when his victims were too close. Of course with the fire burning away most of the evidence, then being left out in the open for forty years, it’s hard to tell for sure.” He wasn’t sure why, but he felt compelled to leave out the information about the return of his own magical abilities. Trusting Azrael was out of the question and Dante’s trust in Alighier was beginning to wear thin.

  “Sound reasoning,” Alighier stated. “It seems it would be more prudent to go to a more recent attack site.”

  Azrael nodded his agreement, adding, “We could gain a clearer understanding of how this demon fights. Most towns have guards, so it stands to reason the demon would have had some slight resistance, no matter how frail.”

  Dante felt disturbed by Azrael’s words. He spoke of humans as if they were beneath him. Was Azrael another angel, possibly the other one watching the demon during the attacks? If so, such a view of the humans seemed wrong for an angel to have. Another thought unsettled Dante; was Azrael the one he hunted? He sensed great power flowing through him. Being an angel or a demon made sense to Dante. Still, he had no solid information about Azrael. Dante would have to wait and watch. Anything that would cause Dante’s memories to resurface and possibly reveal Azrael’s identity may force him into action. Either way, Dante felt he must wait until he knew more.

  Artemis paced in his chambers, impatient for information from Ariel as to Alighier’s actions. The old human was working with the demon Artemis had ordered him to have killed. What was the old man thinking? Alighier had informed Artemis days ago that he had found the angel he was looking for, but now he’s working with the demon? Were both men Alighier found working together? Or was Ariel mistaken? Her command of her enchanted mirror wasn’t perfect, sometimes viewing the past, sometimes the future, but rarely the present; the poor young woman often confused the events. Of course, that was the trouble with viewing different events in time: the tense was almost never where it was expected to be. She had often hinted at knowing Artemis’ future, an interesting thought, if completely inaccurate.

  Artemis had seen Alighier’s future for himself. There would be a time when the old man, older than he thought himself, would work closely with a demon, but it was far off, in a different lifetime altogether. Artemis wrote Ariel’s words off as a confused look into the future. He was more worried about the present. If the demon wasn’t stopped soon, the war with Hell would erupt many centuries too early. He was strictly forbidden from personally interfering, therefore he had banished Victor to put him on the hunt. Outside of Heaven’s jurisdiction, a fallen angel could do so much more against a demon on Earth.

  Thinking he could use a bit of accurate information, Artemis concentrated on Alighier’s presence on Earth and sent his own consciousness to him. In Alighier’s mind, Artemis could listen to the old man’s thoughts. The trouble Artemis always faced when he sent his mind to Earth was that he was blind - a handicap he sought to remove when he could learn how. In Heaven or Hell, his magical sight was keen indeed, but Heaven and Hell were not like Earth with its chaotic energies and areas of dead magic.

  Alighier’s thoughts were jumbled and difficult to hear, but several thoughts repeated themselves. Something about finding another angel on Earth recurred through the mess of thoughts. That and how the hunt for the demon would be much easier with two angels. Alighier believed that he had found both of the angels sent to watch over the demon during the attacks. Artemis grew confused. Ariel was one of the angels sent to Earth. The other was Victor, though he simply refused to sit idly by and watch, leading to Artemis banishing him in the first place. Artemis knew it would happen. That was why he had handpicked the young angel. Despite Artemis’ own checkered past when it came to Victor, the angel and his destructive love for humanity was occasionally useful. But who was this other person Alighier’s thoughts mentioned? Blank areas in the old man’s thoughts suggested that images floated by. Artemis was blind to the images, leaving him more frustrated.

  His frustration must have alerted Alighier to his presence, because his thoughts suddenly raced frantically, then calmed to a communicable level. Needless thoughts were buried deep, allowing Artemis to hear only those needed for communicating.

  ‘Yes, Emissary?’ Alighier’s thoughts projected.

  ‘Your search goes well?’ Artemis asked. He could feel the tension his presence brought to the old man’s mind. The last liaison Artemis had went insane from the power of his presence, so he was forced to keep the contact short and direct.

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ Alighier affirmed.

  ‘Does it? I only ordered you to find one angel. Not two.’

  Alighier’s thoughts raced. When they calmed, Artemis heard, ‘Then which do I keep?’

  ‘I feel the demon will have to reveal himself once his memories come back; a demon’s personality will always show through. Watch your two ‘angels’ and you’ll know.’ With that, Artemis withdrew himself from the old man’s mind. He sat down in a chair by the hearth in his chamber and sighed. The next liaison he would appoint would have to be smarter. His work was too delicate to continue to trust in the frail minds of elderly humans.

  Ariel stood at her mirror watching for anything in the flow of images that would help Artemis. She scanned every brief image and kept vigilant watch. A bright flash caught her eye and she focused on that. The mirror showed a fierce battleground. Bodies of demons and angels littered the ground amid fires caused by stray spells intent on killing any in their path. Swords, axes, spears and other weapons glinted in the red-orange light of the fires. In the distance, Ariel swore that she could see the gates of Heaven.

  Then the grisly scene shifted to a younger Artemis reeling from an attack, clutching his bloodied face. When his hand fell away, blackened skin curled away from his skull, showing empty eye sockets. Ariel gasped in horror and brought her hand up to her mouth. Tears streamed down her face as she witnessed her love’s reason for the blindfold. Then she noticed something that seemed very odd about him. His armor, instead of the dull silver she was accustomed to seeing him wearing, was black as pitch and seemed to shine with evil light. Blood soaked the armor, causing it to take a reddish hue. The ebon feathers of his wings were matted with drying blood. He still wielded the same devilish sword she and all the other angels feared.

  The image showed Artemis’ face contort into a scowl of murderous intent as he took up his sword in both hands. Whoever had wounded him was already gone, but without his eyesight Artemis swung at the smoke-filled air. An angel, a soldier in the army defending the gates, approached Artemis, spear raised to attack. The angel hurled the spear at Artemis, too blind to see the attack coming. The spearhead buried itself in his back, bursting forth from between two ribs on the other side. Black blood dripped from the tip and Artemis screamed in agony. He turned, ripping the spear out through the front of his torso and flung it aside.

  The attacking angel gasped in surprise, giving away his position to Artemis’ keen ears.

  “Your end is coming, angel,” Artemis growled through bloody teeth. The spear had ripped through a lung and Artemis was beginning to choke on his own blood. He stepped toward the angel, who was paralyzed with fear, and raised his sword. The strike was swift and merciless, cutting through the armor, flesh and bones. The jagged edges of Artemis’ sword tore through vital organs and split the hapless soldier in half. The angel fell to the ground in two pieces, dead before he landed. Artemis fell to his knees and the image went dark.

  Ariel was
about to dismiss the mirror’s images, but another scene began unfolding in front of her. Artemis lay among the corpses of demons and angels. The battle was over. The angels had successfully defended their home. The demonic army was in full retreat back to Hell. Three angelic figures approached Artemis‘ body, one wearing elaborate robes that seemed to exude light and warmth flanked by two soldiers. One of them, a young angel with demon blood spattered across his gleaming armor, drew his blessed sword and raised it to strike.

  “Stay your hand, Victor,” the robed figure warned. “You’ll not slay this man.”

  Victor lowered his sword then sheathed it, glaring at the body at his feet. He looked at the robed figure, wings twitching in irritation. “Why do you defend our enemy, master?” he asked.

  The robed figure laid a comforting hand on Victor’s shoulder. “Because even though he led Hell’s armies against us, he is still under Heaven’s protection.”

  Victor looked back to Artemis, confused. “How is he under our protection?”

  “I would not expect you to understand or agree, Victor,” the robed angel answered, “but he has angel blood in him. He is as much a member of Heaven’s people as he is Hell’s. Do not harm him.”

  Victor turned to the other soldier and motioned to him to help him carry Artemis’ unconscious form into Heaven.

  The image blacked out, leaving Ariel confused. She remembered no war with Hell, but this was clearly from before the time Artemis came to Heaven. He had never mentioned how he had come to be in Heaven, only that he was not originally from there. Also, she was amazed to finally see a clear image of Artemis in her mirror. Normally the image was blurry or scattered and she never encountered that problem if she wished to view someone else. Watching the demon was all too easy until Artemis became involved. Now she was lucky to find anything useful at all.