"What makes you think I am interested in giving it?" She charged at him, swinging her blade once again. Caelum stepped back into the shadows, but the angel rebounded back and lifted her hand. A great white light appeared from her palm, blinding him momentarily and robbing him of his doorways. He staggered back; his hearing caught the soft steps the angel took as she moved towards him. He dived to his right, rolling into the dirt. He brought his palm flat on the ground, stopping his momentum and allowing him to get back on his feet.
The light had dissipated, however, his vision was still healing. He cringed at the scene before him and heard the sharp sound of the blade swinging. He sidestepped to the left and tapped the angel’s shoulder to put her balance off. She lost her footing and stumbled. She planted a hand on the wall and pushed herself back. Pivoting, she swung the blade once more, but Caelum dodged. Furious, the angel demanded. “Why won’t you fight me?”
“Sorry, I don’t like to get my hands dirty,” Caelum confessed, but his truthfulness did not seem to appease the messenger of Heaven. She jumped forward, Caelum already getting ready to dodge. But instead, her wings spread and she flew upward. Caelum watched her make a 360 degree turn before plummeting down in his direction.
He waited for her to near again, aiming to catch her and shift her fall. But when the angel was only ten feet away, she halted and spun in midair. Caelum had only a split second before the silver blade came speeding towards him from her hand. He jumped out, but the blade grazed his leg, and he winced at the burning pain. He skidded across the street, sacrificing the sleeve of his tailored suit to protect his face and torso from the sharp loose rocks. Caelum scrambled back to his feet, but the pain in his leg made him stagger back against the wall for support.
Wind blew on his face as the angel descended, gathering her weapon, before speeding towards him. Caelum dodged to the side as the angel swung her weapon again. And again, and again. A pained fury was in the angel’s face as her attacks became more forceful and aggressive.
Caelum dodged another slice at him, and then grabbed the blade with his hand. The skin that made contact with the blade burned and sizzled, but he ignored the pain. He pulled the blade forward, bringing the angel with it. She slammed against the wall and Caelum grabbed her wrist and twisted it until she released the blade. The blade hit the ground and Caelum kicked it away. The weapon skittered across the alley, out of their reach.
“Unhand me, you vile creature!” the angel commanded him.
“Now, now. I’ve already given you my name, haven’t I?” Caelum whispered in her ear.
“I will not address you by the name of my home. You are undeserving of that name!”
“Ah, but what right is it of yours to say such a thing?” Caelum teased. “Many humans have claimed names derived from many things. Some men are named after your Jesus Christ and your archangels. And they are not bound to serve Heaven or their fellow mortals just like their namesake had.” He leaned in closer to her. “Names are just titles, my sweet one. But a man titled as the king is not bound to serve his people the way they believe a king should. A king can do whatever he wants, after all. That’s the perk of being one, isn’t it?”
“You know nothing of what you speak of,” she said. “Names are powerful things.”
Caelum chuckled. “You’re correct, they are. But they are not restrictions.”
“You demons,” the angel began in a calmer tone. “You are born without names and choose for yourself, correct?”
“Yes, but not all of us,” Caelum admitted. “Only those of us who were truly born human and have been damned and stripped of our humanity.”
The slight release of tension in the angel’s shoulder suggested his confession about his nature caught her interest. But she did not declare her curiosity. Instead, she pried on. “Why that name, then?”
Caelum chuckled once more. “Because it’s ironic. I’ve turned myself into a walking irony. A demon named after Heaven.”
“I see,” the angel said, looking away as if in thought.
Then, Caelum was thrown off of her by a great wind-like force that chucked him ten feet high. He landed, knocking the air from his lungs. He twisted his torso to turn back to his feet. His eyes looked forward and found the angel flying towards him, swooping over his head and reclaiming the weapon he’d taken from her.
She turned around and rebounded back to him. Caelum crouched down and drove his shoulder to catch her and threw her back down on the ground. He pinned her shoulders, but her knee met with his stomach. Caelum was thrown to the left, and he rolled away as the angel drove the blade into the ground. He took a few steps back.
“I thought we were becoming friends,” Caelum said, smirking.
“I am no friend to a servant of Hell.”
“Agent of Hell,” Caelum corrected her. His insistence displeased the angel. She charged at him, bringing her blade down. Caelum easily avoided it, but she quickly sent her fist towards him, hitting him on the nose. He cried out before the angel spun and sent a kick to his side. Caelum stumbled down on the ground and had the blade pointed towards him again.
“My, my. I’ve been caught once again.” He smirked.
“Confess!” the angel commanded. “What does Hell want with John Maxwell Saunders, the human I am protecting?”
Caelum laughed. “You have to offer me something else before I speak.”
“I am offering you an easy death.”
“Not good enough,” Caelum quickly retorted, and an idea popped in his mind. His smile grew. “How about you tell me your name, sweet angel?”
“Don’t call me that,” the angel warned.
“Then tell me what to call you,” Caelum offered. “I have given you my name, after all.”
The angel considered it for a moment, gaze piercing at him. Finally, she spoke. “Ariel.”
“Ariel,” Caelum repeated. The name rolled off his tongue as easily as breathing. He smiled softly at her. “Pretty name for a beautiful angel.”
“Now that I have given you my name,” Ariel interjected, “speak of your reason for being here.”
“I got bored,” Caelum admitted. “Saw an angel perched on the man’s shoulders and thought it would be a fun game to play.”
“Don’t lie!”
“I’m not,” Caelum claimed. Though he was speaking the truth, it was only part of it.
Ariel’s face scrunched up, considering his answer and what her next action should be. She gritted her teeth at the smiling demon. No doubt, Caelum was depleting her patience. “Alright, I accept your confession,” she announced. “As a token of my gratitude, I shall rid your soul from Hell and send you to the land between.”
With somber eyes, she lifted the blade and saw Caelum close his eyes as if to accept his fate. But before she could drive the weapon down, Caelum’s form disappeared in the darkness.
“What?” Ariel muttered, looking around. “Coward!”
“And here I thought you’d learned your lesson.” Caelum appeared to her left, materializing from the shadows behind the dumpster. He pocketed his hands and smiled at her. “Did you really think I’d accept death that easily?”
“Liar,” Ariel accused.
Caelum pointed at himself. “Demon, remember?” He grinned. “But what I said is true. I did think challenging an angel would be fun. And I have not been disappointed.”
“Glad that I have exceeded your expectations,” Ariel said spitefully. “But I cannot allow you to spread more of your influence, especially to the human I am caring for.”
Caelum laughed. “I cannot make that promise.”
“Indeed you cannot,” Ariel agreed. She lowered her weapon and stood still. Caelum watched with curiosity as the angel closed her eyes and spoke something in the Enochian language. One of the languages he had yet to study, unfortunately. And sheer curiosity was what kept him standing there instead of taking the chance to flee. There was something majestic about the divine being, and it kept his feet glued to the ground.<
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Then, a pulling sensation, first at his chest, then rising up at his throat, diverted his attention as if there were hands that were softly gripping his body and pulling him ever so slightly towards the angel in front of him. No pain, just a mild feeling. Caelum raised a brow at the angel who had stopped her speech.
Ariel smiled at him, the first opportunity she’d had expressed such an emotion. Interested, Caelum wanted to ask what she had done. But the moment he opened his lips, he knew exactly what it was.
“A—” was all that came from his lips. Caelum tried again, but it was as though something was caught in his throat. He could speak no more. He glared at the angel, realizing what she had done.
Her smile now turned into a smirk. “As punishment and assurance that you will not be able to spread your maliciousness, I have taken your greatest weapon, servant of Hell.”
Caelum tried to force himself to speak. But no sound came from his throat. He glared at her, trying to convey what he wanted to say. You sly little fox. It was indeed a great hindrance for him to be without his speech, and it annoyed him that the angel had outsmarted him. However, he still couldn’t help the slight excitement at the new challenge.
He took a step forward, but a gust of wind stopped him mid-step. The wind picked up, forcing him to protect his eyes from the slicing air. He felt his feet slip back a few inches because of the strength. And then, the wind changed direction, heading upward. After a moment, it all stopped.
Caelum blinked rapidly. When his eyes opened fully, Ariel, the angel, was gone.
What in the name of Seven Hells? Caelum searched around but no trace of the messenger from Heaven was to be found. Not even the trace of her energy lingered in the area. He looked up, wondering if she had returned to the apartment above. Caelum took a few steps back and leapt on the wall. He sped up his pace to counter the pull of gravity until he was close enough to teleport into the shadow of the balcony.
He stepped into the dim orange light, seeing the lights of the apartment of Sander Mauer turned on. The human was pacing the floor, holding a bottle of beer in his left hand and a phone in his right. Awfully late for a phone call, Caelum mused.
But no angel was in sight.
Damn. She ran away, Caelum concluded. His hand went to his throat. He tried to speak again, and as expected, no sound came. He was truly rid of his voice. Caelum watched the human, contempt rising in him. The man looked distraught, frantically talking on the phone while the demon couldn’t even utter one word. Then he smiled, an idea building in his head, one that may allow him to be one step ahead again. The game is just beginning.
Chapter Five: Burning the Holy Oil
His residence was a loft in the lower town of Chicago where most turn a blind eye to the goings-on. The area was notorious for being crime-ridden. To Caelum, such acts weren’t a nuisance, but rather an entertainment for him. Here, he had an abundance of humans to manipulate: prostitutes, muggers, drug addicts, and future prostitutes, muggers, and drug addicts. Those sinful ones whom he enjoyed playing around with offered him some relief from boredom. However, that was an activity he must postpone for now. Due to his meddling with an angel of Heaven, his favorite weapon had been taken from him. Caelum had no choice but to lay low for now and reverse the curse placed upon him.
Caelum arrived in his mundane home and immediately observed himself for any clue on how he could reverse this curse. He opened his mouth and attempted to speak, unsurprisingly failing. He tried to speak loudly, then as softly as possible, seeing if his speech was only limited to a certain volume. Alas, even a whisper was impossible. He undid the top button of his shirt to find an odd symbol marked like a tattoo on his neck.
Caelum rummaged through his rows of bookshelves as an idea formed in his mind. He skimmed over the titles, plucking the ones that had potential. In under ten minutes, he had seven books placed on his study desk. He opened a crisp-looking book about the winged beings and began his research.
One thing he’d valued while staying on with the mortals was the amount of peace he’d acquired. Hell was busy. Hell was screams and torture and blood and demons who had a fetish for diving their noses into his business. He hated Hell. And he hated his fellow demons. Although, that was not a rare trait for a demon to have. Even to a demon, Hell is indeed Hell, Caelum always thought.
Earth was busy too, but so were the humans. It was true that a large portion of humanity had made it a hobby to poke into others' business as well. But humans were much easier to convince to do otherwise. Humans were easy to manipulate, and Caelum had made it his hobby to do so. It was much more fun to deal with humans than demons, anyway.
And so, here on the land of humans, he was able to study about the angels and how their curses worked. He had skimmed over the majority of the books in his collection, however, his memory wasn't infinite. He reviewed the notes he had marked from long ago and searched for any clue that might help him reverse the angel's curse.
The first book he opened was one about angelology where he read about the various rankings of angels. He read about the seraphim, warriors, defenders and authority of Heaven; the Cherubim, caretakers of the connections between worlds; the virtues, who guided the will of man and angel alike in accordance to God’s will, and so on. But nothing interested him at all, much less pointed him in the right direction about undoing his curse. Knowing who the enemy was didn’t really educate him about the weapons they used. He moved on to the other books available to him.
Caelum worked for hours, relinquishing the idea of seeking someone's help in the matter. And the purring cat who sat at the edge of his desk didn’t count as help. When he reached the book about Enochian magic, his hopes soared, then came crashing down when no reversal spell was available to him. At least, none in the language that he understood. He checked the mirror for the tattoo on his neck once more, trying to compare the mark with the Enochian alphabet in his books. But the mark seemed even foreign to the materials he had. Then again, the materials hadn’t been created by angels, only by humans who claimed to have been blessed by the company of an angel. And he doubted the divine beings had time on their hands to teach Enochian 101 to humans.
The night had passed as he studied, dawn spreading over the horizon, when he reached for the fourth book that contained information about ancient magic. Turning pages, he learned of witchcraft magic that were derived from Heavenly powers. He did find one curse that stole the voices of others. Upon seeing this, he read as quickly as he could to understand the curse and perhaps learn how to break it. His shoulders slumped against his chair, the pieces of the puzzle finally coming together. The outcome wasn't advantageous to the speechless demon.
The seal on his voice was an ancient magic, indeed. And it was not as simple as gathering ingredients and invoking a spell. The magic that made it and that could break it could only come from a true user of magic or a divine spirit: a witch or an angel. He frowned at the thought of seeking help from a witch. He had never been fond of them. Witches tended to have the same emotional instabilities as humans do, coupled with the arrogance of a demon. Being a product of those two species, it was a no-brainer that they had the worst traits of both. Besides, he was only acquainted with one witch, and he was more likely to have his curse worsened than cured if he approached her.
The only option now was to approach an angel. Again, he only knew one. The winged beauty, Ariel. Then again, the angel had every motive to murder him if he sought her forgiveness. But that was the reason Caelum made sure he had a trump card to hold over Ariel.
He reached for the book of angelology in search of a new spell. How does one dial the angel hotline? He questioned as he flipped through the pages. Much to his dismay yet again, there was no phone number that he could dial to speak to the angel who cursed him.
Such is my luck, Caelum thought. His hand mindlessly reached for the cat still slumbering at the edge of his desk and scratched between its ears. The cat purred at his touch as he journeyed through his memory in
search for an alternative answer to his predicament.
What other choice did he have at that he was in? He had no words, and therefore, couldn’t invoke a spell even if it were available to him. But flinging the white flag was not in his list of options. At the very least, it was not one he would allow himself to take. His eyes glanced over at Miss Fortune who continued to purr and meow at his touch. He could call upon the witch through the cat, but he decided to reserve that option as his last resort.
Then, the thought hit him. He picked the cat from the desk and settled it on his lap. He sandwiched the cat’s head with his palms and stared into its eyes. He may have lost his words, but he still had his power to cross over consciousness. And so, he divided his own and placed a part of himself on his pet. The cat did not even flinch as Caelum began his silent spell. His eyes bore through the cat’s, both irises growing into large black orbs as he felt something warm seep out like a tear trickling from his eye. Then, the cat shook its head, releasing itself from his palms.
Did it work? he questioned in his own mind, to which Miss Fortune replied with a curious meow that repeated his question. She did not acquire the same language he wanted her to speak, but this was enough. The cat now spoke his thoughts but only through the feline language. Fortunately, both demons and angels were familiar even with the language of animals.
It is the least that I can do. Miss Fortune repeated his words in a long meow.
Further swallowing what little pride he had left, he moved over to the antique table at the far east corner of his residence where a gilded bowl he’d acquired from India was at the center. He took the bowl and fished out a few ingredients from the drawers beneath it. Summoning a demon was much easier than summoning an angel. Perhaps we’re friendlier and don’t need a VIP pass. But truly it was because demons were more opportunistic when being summoned, whereas angels required a grander reason to honor someone with their company.
He mixed rare herbs and the likes in the gilded bowl, and he punctured the tip of his finger with a silver dagger. The silver stung his skin and blood seeped out. He placed three drops of blood into the bowl while speaking the spell in his mind. The cat, who sat expectantly behind him, remained silent through this ordeal. So, I have control of which words of mine she repeats, he concluded, glancing at her. When the last words of his spell were spoken, a cold wisp of air suddenly fell upon the entire room. It sent chills and goosebumps down his arms and spine. Then, his visitor spoke.
The Damned and The Pure Series: Books 1-4 (The Damned and The Pure Series Box Set) Page 5
