by J F Cain
The cunning shaman with the yellowish wolf-like eyes was a creature of few words and only spoke when he had something serious to say. And although Vincent had brought them a valuable piece of information, all the elders had found his initiative offensive.
“No one can disagree with that,” Kochee agreed, eager to condemn Lucard’s minion.
The werewolf Othmar, who had remained silent till then to conceal his disgust for the monsters, as he referred to the vampires, decided to add to the pressure.
“I hope it is so,” he said, his tone tinged with challenge.
The elders of both races turned as one and looked at the head of the vampires, waiting for him to agree. Their expressions conveyed loudly that any difference of opinion would be a problem. Only Garnage’s face revealed nothing, as if the discussion didn’t concern him.
Lucard couldn’t afford to refuse what the majority wanted. This alliance had a delicate balance that had to be maintained, until he got what he wanted. Besides, if at some point the agreement stopped working for him, he could very well break it.
“Of course, we have to watch our every move,” he said with a conceding expression.
“Then all is well,” Galen replied, pretending to have been convinced of his intentions.
The werewolves left the chamber and the castle escorted by gargoyles and other vampires, who were always uneasy about their creations’ intentions. The undead elders also left the council chamber, satisfied with the meeting’s outcome. Galen had made it clear that he wouldn’t let Lucard do whatever he wanted, and that protected them from their head’s aspirations. The werewolves were willing to do what they themselves didn’t do, which was to clash with the most powerful vampire and, perhaps, in the end rid them of his presence.
“Don’t you dare embarrass me like that again,” an enraged Lucard growled once he was alone with Vincent.
“Forgive me, master. It won’t happen again,” he answered, to all appearances obedient.
“If you know what’s good for you!” the elder hissed through his teeth.
He got up from his armchair and left the room so that he wouldn’t do what all the other elders had wanted to do to his underling: rip him apart with their claws.
Vincent waited for the heavy door to close behind his master and then took a seat in the armchair. With the only hand that was whole, he caressed the carved wooden arms, as if reveling in the contact with a yearned-for object. He then leaned back comfortably, crossed one leg over the other and with a vengeful smile on his lips concocted dreams of wiping out everyone who was holding him back.
Many miles away from the vampires’ castle, the Aston Martin stopped at a red light. Following the sports car, the Guardians’ black jeep eased to a stop behind it. Abaddon and Aranes had left the Foundation shortly before, leaving after all the guests, most of whom had rushed away after the unpleasant occurrence, feeling embarrassed by the way they had behaved under the Demons’ influence. Only a few had remained—those who wanted to talk business with Abaddon and the reporters who wanted a story out of it.
The Dark Angel rested his elbow on the car door and rubbed his forehead tiredly with his fingertips.
“That went well,” he said wryly.
“We couldn’t have known,” Aranes replied. “In any case, it doesn’t matter. Have you made sure that it won’t be publicized?”
“I made the necessary calls. Tomorrow I’ll take care of the financial side. It’s going to cost a fortune to shut the media up about the fiasco,” Abaddon grumbled, mostly because the Demons had ruined his partner’s evening.
Aranes’ expression showed that she didn’t care about the money; she cared about the essence of the matter.
“What’s important is that from tomorrow the Foundation will be helping children in need. We’re not going to miss the money.”
“All I’m saying is that it could have been spent elsewhere.”
“Yes, it could have, but since it can’t, don’t waste your mental energy on something you can’t change,” Aranes advised him with a tender smile.
Easy for you to say, but I’m not you, Abaddon thought. The light turned green and he pulled away. As the car began to accelerate, he glanced sideways at his partner. She had been deep in thought for a while and he definitely wanted to know what was troubling her. “I’d give my entire fortune to know what’s on your mind,” he said, adopting a more pleasant demeanor.
“You already offered me your fortune a while back, so you’re actually penniless,” Aranes teased.
Abaddon didn’t care about his financial situation. If he could have her, then that was the only thing that mattered. If he was with her, he could do anything.
“Hmm … yes. I forgot,” he said, nodding.
“You’ve also forgotten that I can’t be bribed,” Aranes added with a convincingly offended expression.
“Right.” He lifted his eyes to the sky, as if trying to think of something else he could offer in exchange. “How about a kiss?”
Her lips quirked slightly.
“That’s not enough.”
“What? I thought you liked my kisses,” he complained with a frown.
“Yes, but one kiss isn’t enough,” Aranes replied seriously, as if negotiating something of utmost importance.
Abaddon thought that if she wanted more kisses, then paying her off was going to be that much more enjoyable. An eternal kiss would be the best. He’d glue himself to her and never be unglued. A wonderful prospect—and unfortunately impossible.
“Alright. What do you want?” he asked, willing to give her anything she asked.
Aranes sighed and shook her head, her auburn locks dragging on her black velvet cape.
“Sometimes you make me question your intelligence,” she said, feigning disappointment.
Abaddon turned to look at her questioningly.
“I’m going to start questioning it too. So, tell me already! What do you want?”
“You, body and soul,” Aranes answered with a smile.
Her heartfelt words moved Abaddon. He let his angelic consciousness control the car and leaned toward her. He took her face in his hand and, letting his eyes tell her how desperately he loved her, he gave her one of those deep, passionate kisses that captivate the mind and arouse the senses. For a brief moment he left their lips touching, breathing into her mouth in an effort to quell the desire surging in his blood, and then flung himself back into the driver’s seat.
“That was a small advance payment. You’ll have to wait for the rest,” he said, his voice hoarse with the passion raging inside him, and gripped the steering wheel. It would be a good idea if he kept his hands busy until they got home. He thought about teleporting the car right to the mansion to save time. But Aranes had forbidden him to dematerialize and rematerialize her physical body because she didn’t know how it would affect the baby. So he didn’t even mention it. “So, will you tell me what’s on your mind?” he asked, full of curiosity.
“I’m thinking of the different things Lyla might do. Lucifer didn’t choose her on a whim. Her stupidity makes her unpredictable. But she’ll be just as unpredictable for him,” Aranes answered, but was essentially aiming the remark at Lucifer. She was warning him that his advantage could easily be flipped to his detriment. She wanted to see if he was taking this into account and then draw conclusions from his subsequent stance. She only knew one part of Lucifer and couldn’t predict how he would act now that he had merged with his other half.
Abaddon realized that the Dark Lord had had the same idea as him. The difference was that while he planned to pretend to be an idiot so that no one could predict his movements, Lucifer had cast Lyla in that role to save his pride.
“Do you think he can’t control her?” he asked, unhappy that he may have more ideas in common with the hateful Demon.
“I don’t think it at all unlikely that she’ll disobey his orders. Lyla is filled with wrath toward me, but also toward him, and this is her chance to get rid of
both of us. She’ll come after me with or without his permission.” That answer was also intended for Lucifer to hear.
Abaddon’s expression turned fierce.
“I think I made it clear to her and her master that I don’t want us to set eyes on them again.”
Aranes looked out the window.
“If only it was that simple,” she said pensively.
Yes, if only, he thought. His self-confidence was superficial. He was acting brave to make his partner feel safe and to put fear into her pursuers. But he was sure that even if he succeeded, they wouldn’t stop their relentless hunt. They would just be more careful. Would the Celestials help him if things became extreme? Then again, if they intended to, wouldn’t they have appeared at the opening? And Gabriel? Where was his friend? Would he keep his promise never to leave him alone when things got tough, or had he already abandoned him?
“Why didn’t the Celestials intervene to chase away the Demons?” he asked, somewhat irritated after that discouraging thought.
“There already was a Celestial there, and it turned out he did perfectly well,” Aranes replied, wanting to cheer him up.
Abaddon was grimly silent.
And what if I hadn’t succeeded? If there were so many Demons that I couldn’t handle them all, or if they had some clever plan? What then? he wondered.
Aranes, sensitive to his moods, sensed his concern and turned to look at him. Light and shadow from the street lights alternated on his profile, as if wanting to show that they were both part of the Dark Angel. She reached out and touched his arm over his black tux.
“The Source has never abandoned me,” she told him, squeezing his arm encouragingly.
Abaddon didn’t miss his partner’s use of the singular. Maybe she was also afraid of what the Supreme Authority, which gave and took at will, had planned. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about it. He had to accept Its decision, whatever it turned out to be. Besides, all he was interested in was the safety of Aranes and their child. He lifted her hand off his arm, kissed her palm and then put it back again.
“Yes, my love, I know,” he said, swallowing his sorrow.
Silence fell between them, and for the rest of the trip each was immersed in their own thoughts.
Once back at the mansion, Aranes undressed silently and fell into bed. Abaddon hurried to follow her so that he wouldn’t miss the most wonderful part of part of the day. Her sober expression left no room for great expectations. Even so, she hadn’t worn a nightgown, possibly due to absentmindedness. So there was hope.
He got under the down quilt and switched off the light—the soft illumination coming from the lit fireplace was more romantic. He lay down next to her on his side, rested his head on his palm and dragged his fingertips down from the little indent at the base of her neck to the hollow between her breasts.
“I have a debt to pay off,” he said, trying to gauge her frame of mind.
Aranes’ mood seemed to change—at least on the surface. She smiled at him and clasped her hands behind his neck.
“If I wasn’t sure you were good for it, I wouldn’t do business with you,” she said lightly.
The lovestruck Angel was pleasantly surprised by the change.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to pressure you with my needs.” As he was speaking, his hands were doing just that—pulling her even closer, careful not to put pressure on her belly.
Aranes burst out laughing. What else could she do when his actions were essentially saying “I’m asking, but, please, don’t say no?”
“How many times do I have to tell you that I have the same needs as you? I have a relatively normal body whose hormones are raging because of the pregnancy and because of a spirit that has adored you forever.”
“I should keep your hormones in check. High levels bring opposite results. I wouldn’t want you to hate me in the end,” he joked, happy with her answer.
Aranes cupped his face with her hands.
“I will never stop loving you, no matter what happens,” she said gently, as if wanting to caress his soul with her words.
Her declaration didn’t have the desired effect. Abaddon sensed danger in her words. She always expressed how she felt, but in the last few days she grabbed every chance she could to show her love for him. Was she preparing him for something, or was his fear making him see things?
“I know,” he replied sadly and bent to kiss her.
There was no other way to ease his fear, but to make love to her. When he joined with her, he experienced total ecstasy and joy. For him there was no image more enchanting than her beauty filling his eyes, no fragrance more exquisite than her own, nothing more wonderful than the feel of her silky skin, no taste more exotic than her kiss, and no sound as beautiful as the little sighs that escaped her lips as he rocked inside her in an oh so titillating rhythm.
With kisses that blew her mind, caresses and movements that spread scorching, overmastering desire inside her, he took her higher and higher up the stairway of pleasure, until she reached the peak, and when he felt her body’s sweetness flow over him, he lifted her in his arms, sat back on his heels and allowed his passion to explode inside her. The two celestial lovers held each other tight until their breathing had calmed, and then Abaddon laid her back gently on the bed and lay down beside her.
Aranes relaxed in his arms and, feeling tired, fell asleep quickly. The Dark Angel, her watchful guardian and protector, lay there in bed with his eyes open, monitoring the discussions being had and actions being taken about what had happened at the opening. Thankfully, the strings he had pulled had done their job and the matter had been silenced.
A while after Aranes had fallen asleep, Abaddon noticed a change in her breathing. He tilted his head down and looked at her curiously. Her faced looked calm, but underneath her closed eyelids, her eyeballs were moving right and left, as if she was in an unknown place and was looking around.
The perceptive Angel was right.
In her dream, Aranes was standing on the stone ledge of a huge cave buried deep in an unknown dimension. She didn’t recognize the place and was peering into the gloom to see where she was. Smooth walls loomed all around her, containing the darkness and everything within it. At her feet began a rickety wooden bridge that stretched over a bottomless chasm shrouded in fog, hiding the other end of the bridge. A cold wind blew around her, swirling anguished cries about that blended with its low, menacing whistle, as if it were the icy breath of an eternal being lying in wait in the shadows. And the scent it brought to Aranes’ nose, that scent of a sinister murk churned by eternity, drove her soul to wrap itself up in the immortal veils of Knowledge to protect her from the pain and despair of the trapped spirits. Aranes realized where she was. She couldn’t see, but she could feel the shadows drifting in the fog, their ethereal bodies scrawny, wretched, and ruined.
“Aranes, you must proceed,” the Eternal Source’s voice came to her, calm and out of place in the bleak surroundings.
“Do I have to go through hell?” the Superior of the Angels asked. Her voice held neither fear nor protest. She would do whatever her duty required.
“There is no other way,” It replied.
The hope of souls began to make her way carefully along the bridge. Under her weight, the dilapidated structure groaned and swayed, threatening to hurl her into the abyss. Balancing every step she took on the ominously creaking rotted planks, she entered the murk, unable to see anything beyond the veils of fog that swirled malevolently around her as if wanting to swallow her celestial glow.
“Please, Angel, save us,” an agonized voice called, at once fading among the mournful cries.
Aranes could do nothing to save the trapped souls but leave the darkness. So she continued on her way over the abyss. From out of the fog swirling uneasily beneath her feet, a black hand shot out and grabbed her right ankle, gripping her white boot and forcing her to stop.
“It’s dangerous here, go back,” a male voice choked out. It did
n’t get the chance to say anything more. Something below jerked it back and it disappeared in the gloom.
The souls’ grief touched the Angel deeply. With her luminous tears rolling down her cheeks, she walked on, her steps slow and careful. The dark fog gradually dispersed, until it melted away, and Aranes found herself standing before a desert cloaked with motionless gray clouds. As soon as she stepped onto the cracked earth, the wailing stopped and silence prevailed, broken only by the sound of a big fire burning a few feet away. And at its center was Abaddon.
Fear made her breath catch. He was surrounded by flames that reached his hips, and his arms were spread wide, nailed to a T-shaped cross. Bluish celestial energy leaked from his pierced palms and his bright gray armor gleamed as it melted, wrapped in red flames. His face contorting from the pain that was slowly leaching his existence, he fought to bear the torture in silence.
“Abaddon,” Aranes uttered falteringly. She rushed to him, stopping in front of the first flames. “Come out of there,” she shouted, her voice trembling with agony.
The Dark Angel lifted his head and looked at her. The red tongues of the flames flickered in his eyes, as if having entered him to hasten their task.
“This is how it must be,” he replied, struggling to hide his pain.
“Then I will come to you,” Aranes said with determination and took the first step.
“No, please don’t!” the Angel cried out, his face harsh from the fear that she would suffer as he did.
“I love you,” Aranes whispered and without hesitating a moment, she entered the fire.
Abaddon watched in despair as she made her way through the raging flames that enveloped her, burning her white clothes and skin. Her suffering showed on her face, but she pushed forward painfully until she stood before him and wrapped her arms around him, uniting her pain and agony with his.
“I will never abandon you,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.
