by J F Cain
The stupid sadist will learn his lesson. And there is no one better to teach it to him than her, Abriel thought as he straightened from the rock against which he was leaning.
He teleported to his headquarters, to the wall where his screen appeared, but once again he didn’t activate the concealment symbols surrounding the space. Lucifer was smarter and more persistent that the other high entities interested in his actions and he might still be watching him. However, when he saw Abriel’s next misleading move, he would give up. The Dark Lord wasn’t interested in his subjects’ love affairs unless there was a chance they would affect his plans. And he was in no danger from this particular female subject of his. Abriel had turned his obsession with Lyla into an advantage he could use at will.
With a fake expression of eagerness on his face, he commanded the screen to turn on. At once the wall disappeared and in its place stood Lyla’s private chamber. At that moment the enraged Demon was kicking the urn that stood in the middle of the room. The dark liquid on whose surface the world’s happenings were screened shot up into the air and Estaria’s form was lost.
Lyla stood there with fisted hands, overcome with the desire for revenge. The first thing that came to mind was that she should let Asmodeus know about his lover’s betrayal, but on second thought she realized that didn’t serve her. The chain reactions that would follow would keep Abriel busy. And even if he didn’t learn who had ratted him out—which was unlikely—he wouldn’t have time to spend on her case.
She tried to think of another way to pay him back for the insult, but every possibility ended up with her losing his help. And unfortunately it was vital to her. So for the time being, she could do nothing. Maybe she would think of a way later, because her mind didn’t work well in stressful situations. Her memory, on the other hand, worked perfectly. It could recall the moments that had annoyed her the most at will. She again saw Abriel holding Estaria in his arms and, with utter satisfaction written all over his face, telling her she was unbelievable.
He’s never said anything like that to me and has never held me in his arms like he did her, she thought, green with envy. What did that mean? That the stuck-up bitch was better than her? That she had satisfied him more than she herself had? “Impossible! There’s no way!” her wounded ego screamed. He had probably said that to rattle her. Maybe, besides his other powers, the Sorcerer could also tell when he was being watched. Yes, that was more likely. He had known she was watching and had indirectly warned her that there were many others willing to take her place and that he wouldn’t be pining away if she was gone.
Lyla felt like screeching with annoyance. She didn’t know what bothered her the most: the fact that the one she had thought was hopelessly in love with her had cheated on her—and with the specific fallen no less—or that she would lose her powerful protector? She never imagined that she would feel anything for Abriel, so she concluded it must be the latter.
She closed her eyes and tried to compose herself.
Don’t lose your temper. The game isn’t over yet. There’s no way he got over you so quickly. The last time you were with him, you saw the desire in his eyes. So there’s hope. You just have to find a way to keep him until you get the job done.
Lyla suddenly opened her eyes and a sly glint sparked in them. She had just had an idea. She hurried to the chamber’s left wall and stopped a hairsbreadth from it. The boulders in front of her vanished and behind them appeared a low door. She kicked it open impatiently and entered a small round room whose roof disappeared into the darkness, making it look like a well.
Inside the narrow space, the sense of despair and desertion was strong. A series of activated confinement symbols surrounded the black walls of the private prison where Lyla was hiding the most powerful soul she had ever won. Alric was standing at one end with his long white hair, beard, and dirty white cloak hanging on his gaunt body. He was looking at a pulsing symbol as if trying to deactivate it. He paid no attention to his jailer. He detested and despised her, just as he despised himself every time she tortured him into giving her the information she needed. And that wasn’t the only reason.
“I want you to tell me how to bind a Demon,” Lyla demanded. “I imagine that given his nature, you won’t force me to use my usual methods of coercion.”
She had thought that maybe she could fight Abriel with his own weapons. It would never cross his mind that she would dare and even more have the knowledge to do it. High magic wasn’t recorded anywhere except for in the brains of theurgists and sorcerers. And no one, except for the Source, Aranes, the Archivist, and perhaps Lucifer, knew that she was in possession of the soul of one of the most powerful theurgists to ever walk the Earth.
“You don’t need my help for that. You’ll find quite a few rituals in the books of magic,” Alric said coldly.
“Not for him,” Lyla snapped.
With pointed indifference, Alric continued to focus on the dark energy emanating from the symbol.
“Grimoires contain ways to handle even the highest of Demons. It won’t be hard to find them.”
The Demon tried to keep her temper in check.
“Let’s just say that this particular Demon has advanced knowledge of magic.”
Alric shrugged indifferently.
“All Demons have, more or less.”
“Not at his level,” Lyla said through gritted teeth.
Alric’s icy gaze fell on her with a measure of curiosity.
“The rituals differ depending on the purpose and the entity concerned. I need to know his name to tell you which one is appropriate.”
Lyla knew about this requirement but had wanted to avoid giving him personal information. She huffed in irritation and, without any other choice, gave in.
“Alright then. It’s Abriel.”
Alric frowned.
“I imagine you don’t mean the Sorcerer,” he said, wanting to make sure that he had understood correctly.
“That’s exactly who I mean,” she answered boldly.
The former theurgist looked at her in astonishment for a moment and then burst into loud laughter.
“Why didn’t you say it from the start that you wanted something so easy?” he mocked her, still laughing.
His insulting behavior was the last straw for the furious Demon. She immediately appeared before him and punched him. The force of the supernatural momentum sent Alric flying back into the opposite wall, where he struck his head and slid down onto the earthen floor. His mocking laughter stopped echoing in the small cell and he remained motionless, leaning against the wall with his head hanging forward and his eyes closed.
“Why aren’t you laughing now, you stupid cocksucker?” Lyla screeched.
She approached him, kicked him hard in the ribs, and stomped out of the secret room.
So there might not be a way for her to manipulate Abriel, but if she swallowed her pride a bit, she could keep him until she became the ruler of Eregkal. Then, once she possessed Lucifer’s power, she would wipe him out together with his snotty lover. She would send them back to the Source where they could revel in their love in animal form. Because there was no way It would let the traitorous fallen be incarnated as anything higher and continue to evolve.
At that thought, she felt somewhat better.
That’s going to be the best revenge, she thought maliciously.
Stupidity in all its glory, thought Lucifer, and with a contemptuous jerk of his hand he vanished the screen that had been showing Lyla. He sank back into his armchair and began to analyze Abriel’s behavior. It didn’t match his temperament.
What was going on? This sudden surge in his heretofore nonexistent sexuality was odd. Did he want to knock Lyla down a peg now that he had the chance? If that had been his purpose, he had succeeded. Lyla did become jealous, but because of her lack of even a rudimentary amount of self-awareness, she thought her annoyance was due to her fear of losing her protector. The next time she saw her much-sought-after lover with Estaria or s
omeone else, she might realize why she was upset.
However, regardless of the wannabe usurper’s misfortune, which satisfied Lucifer’s vengeful instincts, he was still troubled by Abriel’s stance. He thought it unlikely that this would be the only reason for his admittedly bold move. The Sorcerer’s actions always had multiple purposes. So there must be more than one reason for what he had done. What were these reasons? Why was he condemning Estaria? There was no way she had done something against him, since she was in love with him. And that was even stranger! The unlikeable snob was Eregkal’s most frigid entity. She was even worse than Beleth. How did the Sorcerer manage to arouse such feelings in her? And when did this happen?
Lucifer wanted to know everything there was to know about the former high-ranking Celestials and the higher entities of the dark realm. Although occurring rarely, their love affairs, whether among themselves or with some physical being, had proved to be the best way to manipulate them.
This thought gave the Dark Lord an idea.
Was Abriel using Estaria to take revenge on Asmodeus, who was often causing him problems? That was very likely. The Sorcerer had found the chance to pay the Archdemon back for backstabbing him and was now striking where his rival was weakest: his ego.
The realization annoyed Lucifer.
He had believed that Abriel was genuinely superior, but his latest actions proved the opposite. Nevertheless, realizing that he had overestimated his subject wasn’t the only thing that irritated him. His relationship with Estaria would cause war to break out between her two lovers. Was that what the Sorcerer wanted? Because it was obvious he wasn’t interested in the fallen Throne. But these days he had many open fronts. It didn’t serve him either to open another one.
I’m surrounded by idiots. The only thing they care about is their ego, the leader of the dark dimension thought indignantly.
He considered summoning Abriel and ordering him to put an end to this business with Estaria. But if he did, he would reveal that he was watching him closely and that didn’t serve his purposes right now. He decided to sort it out later, when he had resolved his pressing issues, one of which was also Abriel. If until then Asmodeus found out what was going on behind his back and he and the Sorcerer clashed, he had a way to put the Archdemon in his place. And if he tried to attack Abriel slyly, Estaria would rip him to shreds, since his legions essentially obeyed her. The fallen princess had just plainly told the Sorcerer that she was determined to take out anyone who got in the way of their relationship. And no one who knew what she suffered at the hands of her master could blame her for that. The pariah was Eregkal’s worst entity. If he hadn’t been loyal and provided Lucifer with a not insignificant amount of energy, he would have wiped him out himself long ago.
This thought gave rise to another question.
Why did the Archdemon feel such wrath toward the commander of the fallen Powers? His forces were superior in number and he ranked higher than the Sorcerer. Why was he concerning himself with him and always looking for opportunities to slander him? Did Asmodeus maybe fear Abriel? That wouldn’t be surprising. Everyone feared the Sorcerer to some extent. It was his position as the protector of high magic and his strange temperament that never allowed anyone to see who he really was. The Demons feared both. The unknown terrified them. They wanted to know the basics about other entities so that they would be in a position to deal with them. And that was impossible with Abriel.
Only he had grasped who the Sorcerer really was and what he was after. What he couldn’t tell was if the fallen commander’s phlegmatic temperament was real or if it had changed over time. If he was really putting on an act, then he was smarter than he wanted to others to think he was, and definitely more dangerous. In the future Abriel could be a threat, perhaps even greater than the Archdemons coveting his position of authority.
CHAPTER 17
A dark sky blanketed the forest stretching to the west of Oyster Bay, a few miles away from the Guardian castle. Beneath the cedars’ outstretched branches, a cloud of nighttime humidity hovered above the ground, leaving a fine layer of frost on the grass. Among the tree trunks and wild shrubs, two massive wolves were patrolling different parts of the forest, their senses alert. Othmar and Valens had been instructed not to let any physical creature approach the clearing where Galen’s house stood. One of the werewolves extended his neck and howled to let the elders know that there were no intruders in the area. Across the forest, the other werewolf’s howl informed them that the same applied there.
The prolonged sounds rebounded on the leaves of the trees and were heard throughout the forest. But they didn’t reach the ears of Kenelm and the other three deputies who were guarding the small wooden cabin in the middle of the clearing. Defying the bitter cold, they stood motionless in their dark cloaks, their faces obscured by their raised hoods. The dual-natured beings were in a trance, their consciousnesses cut off from the physical world. With their eyes wide open in the supersensory dimension, they were watching for incorporeal spies.
Beyond the wooden fence, an energy invisible to the ordinary human eye rose up from the ground in translucent green waves and covered the house. Kenelm and the other three shamans had created a protective shield so that even if some bodiless being tried to listen in on the elders’ discussion from afar, they wouldn’t be able to.
From the invisible sphere of intangible reality a spiritual presence emerged and immediately materialized as a squirrel on a tree branch relatively close to the clearing. With its eyes shining with fear in the dark, it scurried down to the trunk and hid behind it.
The young shaman who had animated the small animal was far from Oyster Bay, lying on an old cot bed in an abandoned hut. He had fallen into a trance and was trying to listen in on the elders’ meeting. But because the shield hadn’t let him see or hear anything inside the protected area, he had been forced to materialize his guardian spirit, whose energy vibrations were similar to those of werewolves so no one would sense his presence. The race’s elders didn’t know that some of their kind suspected their plans for the attack on Aranes, and they didn’t expect that anyone would be so bold or have the audacity to make a risky move that, the way things were, would be considered a betrayal.
The little squirrel peeked out at the house from behind the tree trunk. Inside the living room, everything was suggestive of a bygone era: the absence of any heating, the sparse old furniture, the candles used for illumination, and the age-old beings with their long hair and faces that looked as if they had been chiseled from stone. The werewolf elders were sitting in the faded couches and armchairs, all in the dark cloaks and handmade leather boots they usually wore when they didn’t have to enter the ordinary human world.
Standing next to the window that looked out onto the front of the house, Galen glanced at the protective shield and turned to his comrades.
“Alright, we can start,” he said in his deep voice.
Othmar spoke first.
“With the blood of the Enlightened Spirit we can make a filter that will put an end to our suffering,” he proposed, his searching gaze darting over his comrades.
He didn’t think it bad or improper to use part of the Superior’s blood to help an entire race. For the long-lived shaman, it was the duty of the powerful to offer themselves up so that there could be growth, and if necessary even sacrifice themselves for it. Based on this reasoning, he considered himself completely different from the vampire elders. The bloodthirsty monsters wanted to drink all of Aranes’ blood. To be precise, they intended to devour her completely in order to regain the powers they once had as Demons. They would then be able to travel to the other dimensions as bodies of energy, and also go out in daylight. The undead didn’t just want to conquer the Earth, they also wanted to extend their dominion to the supersensory world.
“There is another way to achieve our goal,” said Valens.
“Are you sure we’ll be able to do it that way?” Lyon asked with obvious misgivings.
“I believe so.”
“We could just ask for what we need,” Aldard suggested in turn.
“My brother, we discussed your suggestion at the previous council,” Othmar reminded him patiently. “Only you believe that we will be given the most powerful weapon in all the worlds.”
Aldard’s expression showed that he disagreed.
“I think it is very likely that our request will be granted, with certain conditions of course.”
“The rest of us feel differently,” Drust told him in the same calm tone they always used with each other. “But even if the Great Spirit granted our request, we would still have to take part in the attack. So it would be a good idea to prepare for it.”
Lyon snorted worriedly.
“I, for one, don’t place much trust in Its latest actions. We might be doing all this for nothing.”
“Your lack of trust stems from the fact that you can’t grasp Its hidden intentions,” Galen replied without a trace of censure in his voice.
“Which are what?” asked Lyon, his expression showing his interest in his old friend’s opinion.
Lyon respected Galen more than any other comrade and had a close bond with him. That was one of the reasons he had become the leader of the South American werewolves and was living on the border between Panama and Colombia. The other reason was that the threat of him being able to intervene at short notice stopped Lucard from taking revenge on the werewolves for their revolt against the vampires.
Galen’s gray eyes had an eerie look, as if he had penetrated invisible reality and with his shamanic farsightedness was reading what lay behind the Source’s will.
“The Great Spirit wants to bring change,” he said in a distant voice. “And because the worlds are interconnected, It has begun with the higher world. This is why It sent the Enlightened Spirit to Earth and we are seeing all these inconceivable things happening, such as the incarnation, union, and procreation of ethereal entities. The old cycle has ended and a new one has begun. And we will have our own role to play in the coming changes.”
