by R.K. Ryals
~Bezaliel~
I went only as far as I knew I could go in a strange country with a strange language while being followed by a league of Angels, Demons, and fanatic religious groups who wanted to see me dead. I went out into Maria’s small courtyard and sulked. What else was I supposed to do? Run?
“Is there anyone who doesn’t want me dead?” I asked the Heavens in frustration.
Great! Now I was yelling at the skies the same way Marcas did. A light from over the courtyard wall illuminated the garden, and I kicked at the rich green soil in the corner of the yard while practicing yelling at myself in my head. It seemed more productive than having someone else do it. And yet, Marcas’ voice still managed to interfere. “If killing you wouldn’t destroy what little part of me wasn’t a monster. . .”
“Damn it!” I cried out irritably.
“Ah, piccola Ragazza. This is not pleasing. You curse a lot for an Angel,” Maria said pointedly from behind me. I froze. Now was not the time for company.
“You curse a lot for an old woman who wears a rosary,” I bit back as I closed my eyes and lifted my face up toward the sky. The breeze felt good against my skin. The old woman chuckled softly from behind me. At least one of us was amused.
“You glow when you are out of doors,” Maria said.
I looked down at my body before turning to face her. I saw no glow.
“Only a select few can see it. Angels and Demons have their own distinct marks,” Maria explained. She held a shawl firmly around her shoulders as she moved down the porch, and I tried my best not to glare at her as she made her way over to my side. She looked up at the sky while I looked behind us at the porch. All seemed quiet.
“He’s fixing the damage he did to my wall,” Maria said suddenly, and I turned to look at her. Her eyes bored into me.
“I honestly don’t care what he’s doing,” I said with a frown. Maria shook her head.
“Of course you do, Angel,” she commented wryly.
This time I didn’t refrain. I glared. Maria seemed unfazed.
“One thing I have learned in my old age is that lying to yourself only causes further damage. The Demonio is an interesting specimen, no? You aren’t the first Angel he’s been involved with,” she said haughtily. My eyes went wide.
“What do you mean?”
Maria snorted.
“Her name was Sophia. Or Aurelia. Angels tend to have many names. In this case, it is Sophia,” Maria said as she turned to look back up at the sky.
What? I looked at the house. Sophia? What was she saying?
“What do mean by involved?” I asked.
The question slipped out before I could catch it, and I groaned. There was no taking it back now. Ugh, why couldn’t I not care about the stupid Demon and his messed up past. I shook my head miserably. It couldn’t be helped. The old lady was right. I couldn’t lie to myself. Marcas interested me way more than he should. Maria lifted a brow and laughed softly.
“Oh, ho! So the Angel is interested in the sordid tale,” she said derisively.
I blew my cheeks out in frustration.
“Fine, I’m interested,” I said in annoyance. I didn’t need it rubbed in.
“What happened?”
Maria pointed to a bench on the side of the courtyard, and I followed her over.
“These old bones can’t stand the duration of this kind of tale,” she explained as she sat carefully. I took her elbow and helped her down. She nodded her thanks. I remained standing. Maria looked again at the sky.
“The world above and below us is a complicated one and our world is caught in between. They are everywhere. Demons and Angels. We interact with them daily at times and never know it. The Demonio in my home is no exception. He is an old Demon. His mother is one of the most powerful evil creatures to ever exist. His father is an immortal cursed to travel the earth with a bloodlust that would drive mortal men insane. Their children are as powerful as the mother and as bloodthirsty as the father. They are a cursed breed. But you knew that. That isn’t a new part of the tale. Sophia is,” Maria said in an intriguing tone most storytellers would envy. Knowing this didn’t make me any less enthralled. Maria shifted and her knees popped. I pretended not to notice.
“It was a century ago. Not so long in the life of a Demon when Sophia happened upon Marcas. She was a young Angel. Probably older than Marcas himself but that is still young for an Angel. And they fell in love."
I gasped. “They what?” I interrupted.
Maria looked over at me and smiled widely. She was missing a few front teeth. It should have distracted me but it didn’t. I stared at her in disbelief. Marcas and an Angel?
“Ah, I knew this would be the part that would capture your attention,” she said as she patted the bench next to her. I sat. I wasn’t sure I wanted to remain standing.
“Now, it is important for you to know that there are many theories about Angels and Demons. For one, it is believed that Demons cannot love. It is believed that, if they do have a soul, it is corrupted. They are borne of evil and are, therefore, an incarnation of evil itself. This is also the reason why Demons can be killed but Angels can't. Demons are borne of darkness. They can be destroyed, but they are reincarnated in Hell. With each death, a new Demon is created. So, in a way, they never die. Just the body they reside in can be destroyed. The only way to truly rid the world of a Demon is to know his true name.
The only exception to this is the children of Lilith and Cain. If they die, they return to the earth their father was cursed to roam. There is no Hell for them but neither is there Heaven. These cursed children are an exception to many Demon rules, one of which is love. Most still argue that even the cursed children cannot love, but Marcas contradicted this theory. He has lived, like any Demon, unlawfully. His crimes, I am told, are many. But he has fallen short where the worst of his kind has not. He has spared lives when many would not have, taken souls only when people have offered it to him, and killed only when necessary. This does not please many among his kind. His own twin brother has shown no sign of these demonic shortcomings. But both brothers do have their difficulties. Many believe this is the result of being the first Demon born sons of Cain when Cain still had a certain amount of humanity. His sons seem to have inherited this. Damon’s unending search for redemption is his human fault. No matter how insane it has made him or how dangerous he has become because of it. Marcas’ failure is his mercy,” Maria explained.
I looked at the house.
“Mercy a failure?” I muttered. Maria cleared her throat, but I didn’t turn back to her.
“To a Demon, any human weakness is a failure. The most powerful of that is love. Marcas broke the laws of both his own kind and that of the Heavens when he fell in love with an Angel. I don’t know Sophia and Marcas’ story beyond the fact that they loved each other. No one has dared repeat it for fear of Marcas’ retaliation but what is known is no less amazing. The love they shared was forbidden and, when it was discovered, both were ordered to end their relationship. They were forced to choose between each other and Heaven and Hell. For Marcas, there was no choice other than Sophia. He began a war with his own kind over her. It almost destroyed him,” Maria said. She didn’t continue.
I looked away from the house and faced her.
“And Sophia?” I whispered.
Maria’s eyes met mine.
“It’s a choice no one should ever have to make. Heaven or Hell,” Maria answered just as quietly. The story made my heart break.
“Her choice?” I persisted.
Maria didn’t answer.
“She walked away,” a male voice said instead.
Startled, I looked up to find Marcas standing a few feet away from the bench. I stood up. The story had made me feel inexplicably forlorn. I couldn’t say I blamed Sophia. Who could make that kind of choice? Marcas had said no to Hell. That was a lot simpler than saying no to paradise. I watched Marcas’ face for any sign of emotion but there
was none.
“And you want to die because of it?” I asked.
Marcas looked from me to Maria. His gaze remained on her.
“No. I have no interest in dying."
I glanced between the old woman and the Demon curiously. What kind of past did they share? I stood up slowly.
“Then what is this mission really about? You said yourself you wouldn’t find dying unwelcome,” I asked.
The story had somehow smoothed down his edges. He was still scary, he was most definitely intimidating, and he was still a bastard. But he was more real now.
“I was being honest, Blainey. Dying wouldn’t be unwelcome, but I don’t seek death,” Marcas answered. His gaze stayed locked on Maria’s, and he took a determined step closer to the bench.
“Where’s the ring, Maria?” he asked sharply.
The old woman didn’t budge. I looked between them.
“The ring, Maria."
This time he didn’t ask. He commanded with a fury that made me nervous. I moved between them. Without thinking, my hand went to Marcas’ chest.
“Look, calm down, would you?” I said.
Marcas’ gaze met mine. His eyes shone red.
“That’s your job, Blainey. Hell hasn’t given me much patience,” Marcas warned.
He glanced down at his chest and removed my hand. This time, it didn’t bother me. I looked over at Maria.
“Do you know where the ring is?” I asked. Her gaze met mine.
“It’s a fool’s trip you two go on. It isn’t natural. The ring was made for Solomon. And only Solomon. It was never meant to be used by Angels or Demons,” Maria said steadily.
She showed no fear. Marcas huffed from beside me. He shifted forward. Heat came off of him in waves.
“It hasn’t stopped Demons from using it before,” he said. Maria’s gaze returned to his.
“No, it hasn’t. This, Demonio, is the reason why it is better protected now,” she replied.
Marcas moved around me. Maria stood up shakily, her old age apparent.
“I’m not afraid of you, Demonio. I’ve seen what you are and what you can be. I’ve spent my life among your kind because my so-called gift didn’t give me a choice."
She took a shaky step forward.
“I am not interested in your anger or your threats. I have lived a full life. Threats do not bother me. But I will help you,” she said.
I looked at her in surprise. Marcas watched her warily.
“This time is different. Your brother has changed the rules of the game. And brought a Naphil many thought couldn't exist into the fold. It has changed everything,” she said.
Marcas moved to her.
“The ring,” he said again.
This time his voice was low, calm even. Maria reached up and placed a hand on Marcas’ shoulder. He didn’t push her away.
“I’ll help you, Demonio. But only because I’m afraid of what will happen if you two stay bound. If you won’t take her soul, then there’s little choice left. The ring isn’t in Italy,” Maria said as she dropped her hand.
I coughed. What? She was joking, right? Marcas’ back straightened, and he grabbed Maria’s arm.
“Where?” he asked.
“The SOS hid it in Egypt,” she answered.
I had to move back to the bench. I sat down hard.
“Egypt?” I whispered. Both Marcas and Maria ignored me.
“Why?” Marcas asked. Maria leaned against him slightly. She was tiring.
“The SOS was becoming afraid. You aren’t the first Demon to pursue the ring. Lilith has been the most aggressive. The SOS made the decision to move it after your mother’s last attempt. But they kept a few of Solomon’s artifacts in Italy. Only one would help you now."
Marcas took Maria by the elbow and led her to the bench. She sat down next to me.
“The carpet?” he asked. Maria nodded. I tried my best to follow.
“Who has it, Maria?”
“Alessandro."
I wanted to ask them what they were talking about but even I recognized the need for silence. Maria looked down at her hands.
“It’s been a long time, Demonio. He may not remember you,” she warned.
Marcas backed away from the bench and motioned to me. I stood up and followed him. Maria’s hand gripped my wrist. I paused.
“Don’t do anything you feel uncomfortable with. There are always choices,” Maria told me quietly.
I looked up at Marcas. He was watching Maria with an unreadable expression. His gaze moved to mine.
“We need to go,” he ordered.
I glanced away from him and placed a hand over Maria’s.
“I’ll be careful,” I promised. She patted my hand with her free one and let go of my wrist.
“You’ll see me again,” she promised as I walked away. I didn’t look back.
“I’m assuming you know where we’re going,” I asked Marcas shortly. He moved in front of me.
“No, Blainey. I’m just going on instinct,” he said in return. I was sick of his snide remarks. I threw him the bird behind his back. Jackass.
Chapter 28
The air is changing. The trumpet has been blown and the troops have rallied. The SOS is only a safe house. It won’t remain safe for long. What has Damon, in his insanity, caused?
