Repossessors of Souls: Expendable Pawns

by Danae Ayusso

  Instantly Angelus’ head was snapping from side to side, trying to find a means of escape, but there wasn’t one.

  “Rip it off,” I hissed under my breath.

  “No.”

  “Yes,” I said and squeezed his hand as hard as I could, and he snarled at me. “You have to offer me up.”

  Angelus spun around to face me. The expression on his face made me want to apologize and cry: sadness, disgust, trepidation, remorse, guilt, pain, and something I couldn’t name. He closed his eyes then grabbed the shoulders of my dress and ripped it off of me, dropping the pieces of polyester to the floor.

  The last time I stood in the middle of a room filled with horny and perverted Luciferians was in Hell. I was being presented like a piece of meat at auction. When Adramelech went to the surface for some bullshit accords, something he rarely did, his harem was pillaged and me and a few others of his prize possessions were taken. I was beat, violently and brutally beaten, raped, killed more than once and brought back just so they could do it again. For nearly a century I begged to no one in particular why Adramelech hadn’t looked for me. If I was such a prize possession of his, something that he coveted above all others, why wasn’t he concerned for my well-being in the slightest? Through swollen lips I prayed and begged for him to answer me, to find me, to kill me.

  But my pleas went unanswered.

  I killed many of the captors, but they always replenished their ranks, and I was punished in ways that were reserved for those in the lowest, darkest, unspoken levels of Hell. Finally when I was ready to give up, someone pulled me into their arms and freed me from my shackles.

  None of that mattered at the moment, but the reoccurring sense of déjà vu was really kicking my emotional ass.

  “Very nice,” a woman purred from the back of the audience chamber.

  Slowly, High Priestess Symphonia strolled from the darkness, flipping her long, white hair over her shoulder. The dancing red and black flames painted shadows across her ageless face, making it look as if it was carved from sphatik, but with a clouding of ivory in it: an evil demonic ice queen was the perfect way to describe her. Her leather catwoman style bodysuit only added to the theatrical ridiculousness of the entire situation.

  With each step she took, the powerful runes of devilry etched into the walls, floor and ceiling of the audience chamber hummed and softly glowed with a red and black auras.

  Reluctantly, Angelus opened his eyes, and they widened when he looked at me.

  I guess I neglected to tell him that I was dressed for such an occasion, you know, just in case he had to offer me up, or if I got laid as his way of saying thank you without having to actually say thank you for my valiant attempt at saving his ass; thin, black leather straps braided together to form leather looking barbwire that wrapped around my naked body, many times around the middle of my chest covering the centers of my breasts and nothing else, pulling over my shoulders and between my legs a few times. It wasn’t comfortable by any means, but it was exactly what a psychotic, horny, devil worshipping, lesbian high priestess would desire—this wasn’t my first time dealing with Luciferians.

  “The Dark Father would love to welcome,” she purred, the cloaked beings stepping aside for her so she could inspect the merchandise, “a specimen such as She to his loyal coven.”

  I nodded.

  Slowly she walked around us, her large red eyes moving over every inch of me. “I’m curious though, why do you look familiar?” Instantly she was suspicious.

  Shit. I’m not entirely sure.

  “She has one of those faces,” Angelus snarled.

  High Priestess Symphonia smirked. “I’m sure she does,” she mused and continued to study the two of us, her eyes working over Angelus many times, but I wasn’t sure why. “In fact, it is a face that launched a war in all three worlds, and bound an angel for many millennia because of his valiance and blind faith.”

  Wait, what?

  “And to think, the most prized possession of Adramelech just simply walks into my temple and claims that she found faith in the Dark Father, when her own father was adamantly against religion himself. It does amuse me greatly.”

  What in the hell is this bitch talking about? She knows who my father is and who my master was? Even I don’t know the first part of that.

  “Who is my father?” I demanded.

  Her full, red lips pulled up into a demonic smirk. “Now that is amusing. You don’t know, do you?” she mused with a perverse moan.

  Bitch.

  “Obviously not,” I snarled.

  “I can only imagine,” she smirked, “the horrific things that they did to you. Tell me, Child, did you beg for your life? Or did you simply let them have their way with you? I bet you enjoyed it. A good for nothing concubine that was wasted on the shelf,” she purred as she shook her head. “My loyal subjects will have much fun helping you reenact what you went through in Hell, and you might even enjoy it the second time around.”

  I jutted my chin out in defiance.

  I will surely enjoy killing this bitch.

  “You are mistaken,” Angelus hissed.

  “Am I?” the high priestess mused. “The only thing I am confused about is you, her demonic handler. Your aura is confusing me, and that doesn’t happen often.”

  I smirked when she stopped in front of us. “Perhaps you need to get your vision checked,” I said.

  A hard slap to the face was her response.

  “You’re right,” I continued with a chuckle then spit out the mouthful of blood flooding my mouth from the blow. “You are more of a bi-focal type of bitch. I hear that’s what old people wear.” I smirked.

  Symphonia turned her attention to the snarling man next to me. “No!” she choked when her solid red eyes met his burning gold and black angelic eyes. Her eyes widened a fraction of a second before Angelus’ blade sheered her head from her body.

  Okay, I would be the first to admit that it was bit overkill, but sexy.

  The stunned Luciferians looked at us with wide eyes, their mouths gaping open; that was their first mistake. Their second was attempting to close the space between us.

  Precious and Persuader suddenly appeared in my hands, and I swept my arms through the air, holding their triggers down. The spray of angelic and demonic bullets tore through their body, pulling the closest to us off of their feet, sending them flying across the room. Angelus was crotched down next to Symphonia’s body, pulling her soul into his, confirming receipt, while I shot the guards that came running into the audience chamber.

  “Hurry it up,” I barked at the angel taking his precious time.

  “It is taking longer because my soul is intertwined with yours,” he informed me in that condescending Angelus-knows-it all tone of his. His hand snapped out to the side, startling me; a gold and silver dagger flew from his hand, broke apart in midair, separating into four thinner daggers, and each slammed into the chests of the four warlocks that shimmered into the chamber.

  Okay, that was impressive as hell and sexy to say the least.

  “Done,” he started to say when the ground violently shook under us. “What is happening?” he demanded when I pulled him to his feet.

  “Yeah, I forgot to tell you, the temple is tied to her soul. Once it’s pulled from the vessel, the temple falls around her. Hence the reason why no one was ever able to repo her soul: she never left her temple.”

  He looked at me with wide eyes. “And you just thought you would tell me this now?”

  I shrugged. “Seemed like as good of time as any,” I offered.

  “How do we get out of here, Miss Helpful?” he sneered, and I blindly put two bullets in the heads of the next two that ran through the door.

  “Again, I’m not the brains of the operation, I’m the beauty,” I reminded him, my eyes quickly moving around the room, trying to figure out a creative means out of there, but not much was coming to mind. “Now if there was an angel embedded in the wall, I’d have a better idea of how t
o solve this particular problem.” I made a face at him.

  Wait. That’s it!

  I shot the floor under us in a circular pattern with us inside of it and repeated with the ceiling. Angelus, thankfully, knocked the larger pieces of chipped away stone so they didn’t knock me out. The thunderous cracking of stone rattled my teeth and nearly knocked me off of my feet. In a blur of movement, I was in Angelus’ arms and he was pulling me tight against his body, his black wings wrapping around us in a cocoon of cashmere protection.

  Again, that sense of déjà vu.

  “Hold on tight, Chief,” I said with a forced smile and concentrated on getting us the hell out of there.

  The scenery spun around us in a dizzying array of colors that blended into a dreary monochromatic swirl before I was thrown into something soft and springing, then bounced off of it, and slammed into the not so springy, or soft, wall.

  “Ow,” I groaned, choking and gasping for air.

  “Your landing left much to be desired,” Angelus informed me from across the room.

  Even now he can’t say thank you.

  “I’ll try to remember that, and you’re welcome.” I sat up and shook my head, trying to clear the ringing from my ears and the flashes of light threatening to shroud me in unconsciousness.

  “Welcome for what?” he countered, suddenly standing in front of me barefooted.

  I looked up at him; his black wings were stretched out behind him, solid black eyes with gold burning in the centers moved over my face many times.

  “You can’t be serious,” I yelled at him. “I just saved your ass, risked my life, presented myself like some kind of prize hog for slaughter, and nearly caused an emotional episode from the memories it resurrected, and all you can say is, welcome for what? Fuck you!” I snarled and kicked him in the knee as hard as I could. “Get the fuck out of my bedroom!” I was rather confident that we were in my bedroom; I looked around him to make sure. “Yeah, this is my place, get out of my bedroom!”

  “No.”

  Wait, what?

  “Why?” I reluctantly asked.

  “Why do you keep helping me?”

  Again, what?

  “You can’t be serious,” I groaned.

  “I am.”

  I got to my feet, without any offered help from Mr. Inconsiderate in front of me, and without thinking about it, I slammed my fist into his face as hard as I could. To both of our surprise, the intended hit connected to the side of his face, sending him flying across the room and into the wall. Not letting the moment pass, and unable to stop, I threw myself at him and continued to punch him.

  “That’s what you get for being an ungrateful fuck head!” I put all of my weight on my knee that just happened to have been crushing his balls. “And that’s what you get for never saying thank you!” I punched him again. “And for making me wear this god-awful outfit that is seriously giving me a wedgie. And for making me feel like shit all the time. And for making me feel as if I feel something for you. And for being the biggest asshole that has ever fallen out of heaven. And for just being you!” I yelled.

  Each of my hits was weak and pathetic. I didn’t actually want to hurt him; I was just tired of being hurt by him.

  Angelus blocked each hit after the first one, and let me feebly smack the hell out of him. Eventually, I was crying more than I was screaming, and was bitch slapping him; the sad and pathetic excuse of a demon this angel reduced me to was ridiculous, and I shouldn’t have even been allowed to call myself a demon after that little emotional-fueled bitch-fest.

  “Are you done?” he mumbled from under me.

  “No!” I yelled and smacked him again before sighing. “Now I’m done,” I grumbled and crossed my arms over my chest while straddling him.

  Angelus wrapped my hair around his wrist and jerked my head back, pulling me back to the floor then stretched his body out onto mine, weighing it down. “You are testing my patience,” he informed me, his eyes studying mine, his lips only an inch from mine.

  “And you are hurting my feelings,” I informed him—seriously, feelings? What in the hell was wrong with me?

  “And you were hurting my balls. I think that makes us nearly even.”

  “Not even close,” I snarled then snapped my teeth at him, and he leaned back in time.

  A smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth. “You are a very difficult and troublesome little girl.”

  “Oh yeah?” I struggled under him, but he was unmoving stone. “Well, you’re ugly as a demon!” I shot back.

  Oh, that was just brilliant. I seriously think this goddamn angel is somehow lowering my IQ by the second.

  Angelus ran his tongue along his fangs then smiled at me. Now I knew why he doesn’t smile; he looked like a homicidal sociopath when he did. “What’s wrong, Zion, are you not attracted to your own kind?” he mused.

  “Not really,” I admitted and his smile fell. “I thought you were hot as an angel. This demon thing just isn’t you, and you are totally creeping me out right now with that Jack Nicholson smile you keep giving me.”

  “You think I am attractive?” he sounded almost amused by this.

  “Sure, let’s go with that.” I rolled my eyes.

  Again, he smirked. “Troublesome little girl indeed,” he mused.

  “Either kiss me or shut the fuck up and get off of me.” I glared at him.

  Of course he did neither, and continued to lay stretched out on top of my barely clothed body.

  “You have to give me something here, Angelus. A thank you, a please, a you’re welcome would suffice at this point, even though I’m the one that is supposed to be saying you’re welcome, but whatever. I’ll take what I can get since I can’t get anything from you.”

  Suddenly, an angelic dagger was in his hand and only inches from my throat.

  My eyes widened, and I swallowed loudly.

  Angelus looked from the blade in his hand to me, when he noted my expression he smirked. “What is wrong, Zion? Scared that I might slay you?”

  ‘I’m not a dragon,’ I mouthed.

  “Do you honestly think that I would kill you? Especially after everything I have done to keep you safe and alive?” he mused.

  That was a loaded question and statement.

  “What have you done?” I whispered.

  “Tisk, tisk, tisk,” he said, wagging a scolding finger at me. “Asking questions that you already know the answer to is just counterproductive for all parties involved.”

  What was that supposed to mean? Is he talking about that stupid drowning in the park incident?

  “Okay,” I said, not entirely sure what he meant, not that I ever did, so I moved to the next important topic of discussion. “What is the blade for then? That’s a question I don’t know the answer to.”

  “This?” he mused, spinning it around his hand, demonically fast, and dangerously close to my face. “It is an Archangel dagger,” he said, sitting up, pinning my hands under his knees down by my hips; it was painful, but I’ve had worse. “There is only two ways to kill an Archangel on the surface,” he explained, pulling the blade’s impossibly sharp tip across the ridge of my jaw; it didn’t break the skin, but I could tell that it wouldn’t take much to do so. “One is with an Archangel dagger, like this,” he said absently, watching intently as he pulled the tip of the blade down my throat, as if it was pleasing to him and that my reaction was even more pleasing.

  I wasn’t scared, not in the least. I was actually getting turned on…

  My issues were beyond colorful, they were criminal!

  “And the other?” I asked in a choked whisper, trying to swallow the lump in my throat, but the angel in control of the situation, the angel with my life in his hands, literally, pressed the edge of the dagger against my throat, stopping the involuntary action.

  Angelus smirked. “An angelic weapon, one blessed by my father himself. They are very rare, and even rarer to find in the hands of a demon,” he snarled.

  “Oh,�
� was all I could say—I didn’t know that, and I was so kicking Adramelech’s ass for giving me that damn gun.

  “Oh indeed,” he said with a smirk, pulling the blade down the center of my chest. My breathing increased, and I fought back the moan that was building in my chest. “So tell me, Zion, how is it that you killed an Archangel without either?” he asked, sliding the tip of the blade under one of the leather straps, and with the flick of his wrist, the blade easily sliced through it. The snapping sound the painfully taut thread made seemingly echoed throughout my bedroom and turned me on even more.

  Shit, okay, think of something else. Obviously he doesn’t know about Precious.

  “I got lucky?” I offered.

  Yeah, that was totally believable.

  “Lucky?” he repeated, not believing me in the least. “How lucky can one demon be?”

  I think it was a rhetorical question because he didn’t appear to want an answer.

  He slid the tip of the blade between my breasts, under the next two braided leather straps, and flicked his wrist, the taut leather snapping. I choked back a moan, and squirmed under him, my fingernails digging into the hardwood floors under his knees.

  “What do you want me to say?” I moaned, unable to stop myself, and my body tried to bridge under his, my head tilting back, exposing my long neck to him; again, not the smartest thing to do when you have a sullen angel with a dagger against your throat, one that doesn’t like you most of the time, but what could I say, commonsense and endorphins didn’t play well together.

  “I do not expect you to say anything,” Angelus informed me, sliding his blade deeper between my breasts. “I have never expected anything from you, Zion. But most importantly,” the blade sheered through the remaining leather straps across my breasts, freeing them. “I have not expected anything in which you have done as of late.”

  He pulled his shirt off and draped it over my exposed chest.

  “So I’m not getting laid?” I blurted out.