by J F Cain
“Master … he did it on purpose,” she gasped when she was able to speak again. “The Celestials have fallen apart and the only way to fight us is to sow dissent among us.”
The Archdemon seemed to think about it. Maybe she was right. Besides, it seemed weird for her to have anything to do with the Angels. They detested Demons. Yes, what she said sounded right, but he would continue to torture her because she had warned him about how the Celestials would react, and he detested the shrewdness of others, especially the fallen, who looked down on him.
“You haven’t convinced me,” he lied, his voice harsh.
He enlarged his already big penis and thrust inside her from behind. Estaria’s long, pained cry echoed in the crater, and before it could fade away, it was followed by the sound of the belt and the ghastly moan that escaped from the depths of her soul. The sadistic Demon kept up that rhythm for a while—a slow, painful thrust and a slap of the belt—enjoying the sight of his helpless victim writhing in pain, and then stopped.
“Is there anything you want to say?” he jeered, pretending he was still waiting for her to tell him the truth.
Estaria shook her head, unable to talk. Her joy at his humiliation at the Archivist’s hands wasn’t enough to help her bear this torment.
The belt again descended with force on her bloodied back and the pain, like the slash of a knife, took her breath away.
“I didn’t hear you!” Asmodeus shouted.
“I swear … I don’t know,” Estaria whimpered, struggling to speak.
“You know what will happen to you if you do something stupid again,” the Archdemon insisted, his voice filled with warning.
“Yes, master,” she responded, inwardly pleading for him to stop hurting her so badly.
Asmodeus gripped her hands, twisted them backwards, holding her wrists in his big hand as he began to overwhelm her with deep thrusts, all the while whipping her with the belt. Estaria could stand the pain no more and fell to her side, half-conscious. He just lifted her from the hips, entered her again and kept on taking her mercilessly. Once his animal urge was satisfied, he shoved her forward and she crumbled to the ground, unconscious. The Archdemon stood up and stroked his member with satisfaction. He had really enjoyed that.
He tossed the belt onto Estaria, dressed his body in his black leather clothes and left the physical world. He didn’t take her with him; he left her there so that as soon as she regained consciousness she would feel the pain of their encounter again. That would serve as an immediate reminder of him and, more importantly, what would happen to her if she ever dared to defy him. He didn’t care if his lover hated him. As long as she feared him enough to behave.
Estaria came to in terrible pain. She pushed up on one hand with a moan, and looked around. She was alone, thank goodness. Her oppressor had left her in peace at last. She dematerialized her injured physical body, lay down on her side again and curled up, letting her empty gaze stare into the darkness of the volcanic crater.
Whenever she returned to her ethereal form, the pain stopped. But nothing eased the pain and indignation of the humiliation she was forced to bear. Asmodeus envied her because she had been born an Angel, whereas he was made of evil, hatred, and all of humanity’s negative tendencies. Any Demon seemed like an Angel compared to him. He was the one who should be the ruler of Eregkal. In many ways, he was worse than Lucifer and, unfortunately, in love with her in a sick way. He would never let her go.
Her first and only attempt to get away from him had failed and she could still remember the pain it had cost her. And if Abriel hadn’t helped her, things would have been much worse for her. His magical powers had helped her to bear the daily torture and rape until her master had been forced to stop at Lucifer’s orders, given because the Dark Lord had in turn been convinced by Eregkal’s highest entities.
The Sorcerer was the only one who had dared to approach her during her captivity, risking coming face to face with the Archdemon or, even worse, Lucifer himself. He had then become the only entity for which Estaria would do the same.
She wondered if Abriel had seen her most recent humiliation, and the thought made her feel shame and rage. Asmodeus’s offensive behavior belittled her in many ways, but above all it made her appear weak. The Archdemon had managed to frighten her so badly that she never fought back.
You’re the one responsible for that, she reproached herself. If you hadn’t been indifferent to the power games that had been played right after the Fall, right now not even Lucifer would be able to touch you. How could you allow entities inferior to you to exploit and humiliate you?
Lying on the earth with her wounded pride, Estaria made the decision to accept Gaap’s proposal. If their attempt failed, she hoped to be given the worst of sentences: annihilation—which meant a return to the Source and her reintroduction into the cycle of incarnations. That would at least put an end to Asmodeus’s humbling actions. Before the Fall, she had been closer to the Original Being than even Lucifer. That was why some feared her power and tried to constrain it or exploit it for their own benefit.
Estaria stood up with her head held high.
Enough! She was the highest-ranking among the fallen, and the time had come for her to take the place she deserved.
The supernatural entity’s decision, charged as it was with intense emotion, affected her surroundings. Jets of steam and toxic gases shot out of the fissures in the walls and on the ground. The extinct volcano’s fiery energy had been awakened, manifesting the interaction between the physical and incorporeal world.
As Estaria’s form was fading in the clouds of steam and gases, all of a sudden the image of the Archivist looking at her with that enigmatic gaze came to her mind. It was then that a light bulb went off in her head.
I got the message, she thought, addressing the Source’s representative. And she was absolutely certain she wasn’t mistaken.
CHAPTER 10
The atmosphere in the vampires’ council chamber was tense. Seated in his armchair, Lucard regarded Lyla and Abriel irately. Beneath the low dais, the Cursed elders had formed a semi-circle around the Demons and were listening discontentedly to Vincent’s oration as he stood in front of the dais with an air not befitting his position. Lucard had permitted him to speak on behalf of their race, because they didn’t want to clash openly with their demonic ally themselves. Vincent had no illusions about his leader’s intentions, but this show of power served his own plans and so he had willingly taken on the task.
“Do you still want us to wait?” he screamed at Lyla. “I say we’ve waited enough. The time has come for the Immortals to rise up and claim what belongs to them.”
Before Lyla could respond, Kochee—who had her own reasons for wanting to show off—chimed in.
“We’ve amassed an army the likes of which has never walked this Earth before. With a force of nine thousand Cursed, we can, if we want, take over the entire planet. What’s stopping us from capturing the Angel?” she asked brashly.
“A force of fangs and claws is something to be reckoned with,” Lyla agreed, only to immediately disagree by saying: “However, without careful planning it will all be for nothing.” She turned to the vampire elders standing to her right. “The consequences might be dire for some of us,” she pointed out meaningfully.
They’ll definitely be for you, thought Vincent. “Your persistent delays are making me think that your plans don’t include us.”
“You’re accusing a Demon of betrayal! How convenient!” Abriel reproached him with a stern look. The game was being played on equal terms right from the start: Lyla planned to betray her allies, and they planned to do the same to Lyla. He didn’t expect any of those present to be offended by the evident hypocrisy. But he demanded more respect for his own intelligence.
Lucard stood up from his chair.
“This alliance was formed to serve a purpose, and every moment that passes we move further away from it because of you. Maybe we don’t need you after all,” he
said, glaring at Lyla.
The Succubus’s expression hardened.
“You must be stupid to break our agreement now,” she replied, her tone warning of retaliation. “Without my Demons’ help you won’t be able to keep Abaddon in check and all this waiting will have been for nothing.”
A frozen silence descended on the chamber. All the elders turned toward their leader, curious to see how he would deal with the threat. Behind their odd faces lay hatred, animosity, and disgust for the ruthless grasping being who had determined all their fates and continued to decide the existence of some of them.
Lucard was looking at Lyla with concealed fury. The first chance he got, he would sort out the pathetic slut. Ever since she had forced him to relinquish the soul of Berk, the CEO of a genetics company that he had made his pawn, he had held it against her. Lucard had then made it clear that he considered that a full repayment of the debt he had owed the Succubus for helping him escape from Eregkal. But when, in a later council meeting, she had disagreed with him, she had reminded all the elders of their debt to her. And since she had Abriel’s protection, they had been forced to give in.
“Your determination is heartening. Could you possibly demonstrate it too?” Lucard inquired, cleverly evading the trap into which his kind wanted him to fall.
“When it’s time, you will all see,” Lyla boasted. “But I’m not about to do anything hasty. Lucifer is protecting her, and I’m not ready to deal with him yet.”
“And when will you be?” Vincent chimed in. “The Angel is giving birth any day now. Who knows what will happen after that?”
“She definitely won’t take Abaddon’s child to the Source,” Lyla sneered, her lips twisting in a smirk. In a flash, the smirk vanished and a contemptuous expression took its place. “Don’t be an idiot,” she snapped. “She’s not going anywhere.”
“Are you sure?” the young vampire retorted testily.
Lyla shot him a venomous look, not deigning to answer.
“I’ll let you know as soon as I’m ready,” she told the vampire leader coldly and disappeared together with Abriel.
Vincent gestured scornfully with his handless limb and the candlelight fell on its steel appendage. The momentary reflection caught Galen’s attention and, very discreetly, he took a closer look at the blade. Vincent usually hid his maimed arm behind his back and the werewolf elder hadn’t seen the symbol before.
He immediately realized that the young vampire’s appendage was part of a Guardian’s sword. However, the only Guardian that had been killed since the vampire lost his hand was Kenelm’s girlfriend. Is he her murderer, or did he have the sword from before and just used it when he needed it? he wondered, having a bad feeling about it all.
Lucard turned and regarded the werewolves one by one suspiciously. They hadn’t said a word during the discussion.
“Your silence is worrying,” he said meaningfully.
“It’s nobody’s fault if you see ghosts everywhere you look,” Lyon snapped.
The vampire leader gritted his teeth. The elders of his race were waiting for him to stumble so that they could wrest the leadership from him. But he wouldn’t give them that pleasure; not now when he was so close to his goal. The time would come when he would put the insolent beast in its place.
“I didn’t break free from Lucifer by seeing ghosts everywhere,” he reminded the werewolf scathingly.
Break free? Lyon stifled his laughter, but Lucard caught his mocking expression and his eyes glinted angrily.
Galen intervened to prevent their tempers from flaring even more.
“It isn’t an easy undertaking. We have to be well prepared before we act,” he said, explaining their stance.
Lucard aimed his wrathful gaze at Galen. They all had had enough time to prepare, but no one was doing anything but wait for Aranes to give birth.
“It’s strange, though, how you don’t seem interested in why the Succubus is delaying the attack,” he insisted, regarding him with suspicion in his stygian eyes.
“We need her and she needs us,” the werewolf explained calmly. “If she could get the Angel on her own, she wouldn’t have asked for our help.”
They all knew what Lyla planned to do once their plan had been carried out. However, no one said a word, because none of them intended to uphold their agreement. They were also all certain that were going to end up slaughtering each other to claim the Superior and her child. It had all been divvied up among them from the start: Lyla would get Aranes’ soul, the vampires her blood and the werewolves her body. The fact that now, with the infant, there were two souls and bodies to claim, the allies avoided discussing. Lucard’s suggestion-pretext that they settle the matter depending on the period in time they captured Aranes had suited the frenemies.
“We’ll be patient and we’ll keep our eyes peeled. Besides, we have no other choice,” Valens said grimly.
“We do have a choice; it’s courage we’re lacking,” Vincent cut in.
“If you’re taking your stupidity for courage, boy, then you’re fooling yourself,” Valens answered him sternly.
“Lucard, rein in your stooge,” Othmar demanded.
Lucard didn’t like his tone and ignored the suggestion. Vincent was angered by the epithet and, encouraged by his master’s silence, he bared his long fangs menacingly.
“Retract them, or I’ll make you swallow them,” Othmar warned him, annoyed by his insolence.
The vampire elders looked at their head, disquieted by his tolerance. They all disliked the werewolves, but they disliked Vincent even more. They also didn’t care at all for the games he and their master were playing.
With everyone’s blazing eyes focused on him, Lucard had no other choice but to give in.
“Enough, Vincent! Leave!” he commanded his minion.
As if nothing had happened, the young vampire turned to his master, made a small bow, and left the chamber with a sly smile on his face. His talent for spreading discord had never let him down. How could it? He had had the best teacher; and he had fooled even him. The elder hadn’t realized he was furthering his own goals.
“Let your servant stick to polishing your shoes. Unless you’re intending him for some high position,” Lyon challenged Lucard. He was always willing to annoy the vampire and to cause him problems with the elders of his race.
Lucard saw the other vampires exchange meaningful glances.
“Keep your suggestions for others, not me,” he retorted, a disapproving expression on his gaunt face.
“The next time that one attends a meeting, we’ll leave,” the taciturn Aldard calmly warned him.
The werewolf Drust, who throughout the discussion had been silently observing the vampires’ faces and reactions, decided the time had come for him to speak.
“I think we’re done,” he said icily, supporting his comrade.
A few miles away from the vampire castle, Lyla and Abriel stood on the top of a hill and with their ethereal vision watched the vampires leaving the council chamber.
“The young vampire is up to something. He’s not so stupid as to put himself in the line of fire. It’s likely he has someone at his back, someone powerful,” Abriel said.
“Whoever is relying on him to get things done is dumber than he is,” Lyla huffed.
“Not necessarily,” Abriel disagreed. “Supernatural beings with vampiric temperaments are very effective in the physical sphere, as long as the one handling them can control them. But for someone to be able to control a greedy creature, it must either fear them or must have been promised what it desires, in this case to rule the vampire race. Who would a sly vampire trust to be capable of dethroning the powerful Lucard?” he asked, his expression betraying that he knew the answer.
Lyla shrugged.
“An Archdemon?”
Abriel continued to regard her challengingly, as if encouraging her to think further. When he saw a disbelieving expression dawn on her face, he realized she had stumbled on the right answer.
“Lucifer?” Lyla asked with a frown. “No way,” she went on to answer herself. “He has all the power he needs. What reasons would he have to use that useless creature?”
“After everything that’s happened, can you still speak in absolutes?” Abriel queried. He shook his head disappointedly. “If you want to survive the situation you’ve gotten yourself mixed up in, I suggest you strike them from your vocabulary. And as for the reasons, I’ve just told you them.” But your puny mind just can’t process them.
Lyla would have liked to send her know-it-all ally packing, but she could no longer afford to treat him like she used to do.
“Yes, sir,” she said, doing her utmost best to show that she was joking.
Her lighthearted tone didn’t convince the sharp-witted fallen. He threw up his hand in resignation.
“As you wish, but watch your back.”
“That’s what I’m expecting you to do,” she replied with a saccharine smile.
Her expression irritated Abriel.
“It would be a good idea to take care of yourself. I’m not going to be dogging your every move,” he said indifferently.
Lyla felt like she’d been slapped. Her anger blazed so quickly that she forgot she needed him.
“It’s what you’ve been doing for millennia,” she retorted defiantly.
The fallen gave her a sardonic smile.
“We all make mistakes.”
The self-centered Demon freaked.
“What’s going on, Abriel?” she asked, hiding her deep annoyance behind a mask of sarcasm. “What’s with the tough-guy act lately?”
“Baby, my existence doesn’t revolve around you,” he paid her back with the same venom. “I’ve got rather important things to do.”
Lyla blinked, unable to believe what she was hearing.
“Forgive me, dear,” she replied with bitter sarcasm. “After having you chase after me and plead with me for what seemed forever, I got the impression I was important you.” As soon as the words had left her mouth, she realized she had put her foot in it. Couldn’t you have thought of something better to say? she scolded herself. You sound like a chick that’s been dumped.
