by JK Ensley
The tiny bit of enchantment yet remaining upon the eighth layer of the universe could only be found written within the neglected pages of its many books. Some magic yet lived, but only within the minds of Earth’s readers.
No, there’s not enough sacred power upon the whole of that land to accomplish such a thing as this.
He quickly ran through the legions of memories he had concerning one of the few layers that no longer believed in him or his kind. A sadness fell over him, shadowed his soul, as those ancient recollections came flooding back. His darkening mood lifted when the more recent memories concerning Earth’s realm began to fill his thoughts. The ones including his lovely Anicee.
A dull ache throbbed in Varick’s chest. His cheeks flushed crimson when the raw recollection of their mutual summons to Paris, and what had transpired between them there, filled his every thought.
Since the modern people no longer believed, they no longer feared. Gone were the days of their superstitious and easily fooled ancestors. The people who lived there now may no longer believe in Angels, but they believed not in demons either. Much power comes from belief. So, to maintain their wicked hold, the grotesque beasts of the Underworld donned Earthly masks, walked around as normal human beings. None were the wiser. This made it much easier for them to get close to the innocent ones, but much harder on them since they couldn’t openly rend and devour the flesh of their chosen.
Demons had been forced to devise much more sinister ways of obtaining their prey. One such design was sweeping Europe and was the reason for their heavenly intervention.
Greater demons were drawing out the youth of this unsuspecting society in incredibly creative ways. Jenevier and Varick had been sent to layer eight to seek out and destroy the haggle of demons who were throwing what the young ones called Raves. The darker and creepier the secret party was, the more naïve souls it would attract.
This particular Rave was being held in the ancient catacombs hidden underneath that most rare and beautiful city. The forgotten and cast-out ones that disappeared during these musically enhanced parties were simply given up for lost among the ancient bones lining these tunnels.
The governing entities had tried to seal off, cover over, and gate all entrances to their self-created Underworld. But those who wanted to find a way in… always could. There remain unknown and unmapped miles of catacombs still to this day. The only creatures to call this place home, were the ones the victims never lived to tell about.
Jenevier accompanied Alzeen, as his date, following along with the earthly sheep as they unknowingly made their way to slaughter. A crude, hand-drawn map served as a personal invitation. It contained not a clue about the Rave, just a sketched set of directions, to the unenlightened eye.
Eerie glowing lights and neon colored paint covered most of the partygoers. The ethereal duo actually looked the most normal out of the whole group. Jenevier had to muffle her laughter when Alzeen mentioned that very thing.
She looked around at the pinks and greens and yellows and blues encircling the humans’ wrists, draped about their necks. These same glowy things were stuck in their hair; flashy lights were inside some of their mouths as well. She was fascinated by this strangest of all parades, morbidly so. One thing every attendant had in common, a flashlight or two was firmly in hand.
Alzeen could tell, shortly after heading down the second gruesome passageway, this giant tomb was affecting Jenevier in an odd way. Her senses were heightened to the extreme; her breathing was coarser, heavier. He noticed she even donned Vashti’s eyes on occasion, not that anyone here would’ve given her a second glance because of it. He couldn’t put his finger on it precisely, but something was off, way off, with his colorful little Angel.
In an attempt to squelch his growing concerns, Alzeen took her hand, interlacing their fingers. She nearly jumped out of her skin, shocked by his sudden, yet tender, contact. She growled at him. He was again thankful for the strange company they were keeping this night, for they either didn’t notice or didn’t care about what had just happened. Her bestial reaction to his comforting touch went completely unnoticed by the humans passing them by.
“What is it, my love? What’s capable of causing such fear in a Death Angel?” He played with her hair, speaking in gentle tones. Her anxiety did not ebb. “Tell me. What are your keen senses screaming at you that mine cannot hear?”
Her eyes were darting from side to side. “Tell me again which layer we’re on.” She couldn’t even focus on his face. “Pull my mind back to reality for I’m slipping around inside myself.”
“Shhh, calm yourself, tiny Princess. We’re on layer eight and I’m at your side.” He playfully yanked one of her curls. “I’m your Alzeen, remember? I’ll never let harm come to you. Be at ease, lovely lady.” He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “We’re on Earth, summonsed here to vanquish a few greater demons and their following mongrels. Just light work for us, actually. Do you remember, now?”
She was frantically searching the darkness. She paid no attention to his words or his play. He wasn’t even certain she heard him at all. He firmly held her cheeks in his hands, forcing her to meet his worried gaze.
“Jenevier, are you listening to me?”
“Where’s Vittorio? Have you found my brother?”
“Vittorio?” He bristled at her question.
“Yes, have you seen him? This is the place he was taken, I’m certain of it. I heard his screams. Yet I cannot determine from which tunnel they came.” She removed his hands, slowly turning from side to side. “It smells the same as I remember.”
“As you remember? Jenevier, my love, you’ve never even been here bef—” Fear seized his heart when he realized what state her mind was truly in. He mentally punished himself for not anticipating a reaction such as this. He grabbed her trembling hands, held them tight against his chest. “Jenevier, listen closely to me. Hear my voice. I am Varick. We’re on Earth, far away from Spadroon. Vittorio isn’t here. He hasn’t been taken. He yet remains in Vanahirdem, waiting for you back at your home, safe and sound. Remember you not when Vindicus dragged Shabriri to the pits? There he remains, my love. He can never hurt you again. Shabriri can never touch you or your brother, ever again.”
“Vindicus… Shabriri…” Her pained whispers were barely audible. “Varick’s not here, Brother. Thank the gods, he’s yet safe. Vittorio’s the one they’re torturing. They’ll cut—” Her words stopped as she lifted her nose high in the air, sniffing the stale little breeze. “Ah, I smell it,” she hissed.
“Smell what?”
Her growl turned into a snarl. She seemed more beast than Angel.
A shrill scream pierced the darkness. Instantaneously she was Vashti and disappeared from his grasp. Alzeen was no longer necessary as Varick assumed his true form and gave chase toward the echoing screams.
The loud music had been but a dull thrumming, it grew in volume and intensity as he neared the enormous cavern all the partygoers had gathered in. Cables were run throughout the room and large spinning lights gave off intermittent flashes of color. The effect caused the dancing masses to appear jerky, chaotic. Giant speakers vibrated with the strange pulsing beat, the odd word, Eisenfunk, kept slicing through the hypnotically frenzied tune.
He scanned the skeletal walled room, searching for his colorful little Angel.
If she wanted to become truly lost, this is the very place she could accomplish such a feat, he thought.
He caught a fleeting glimpse of her a couple times, but it was just too hard to distinguish her from the rest of the bizarre occupants. Whether she was Jenevier or Vashti, at the moment mattered not. All the humans gathered here had wildly colored hair, brightly painted marks upon their skin, and everything seemed to flash and glow.
When he thought his search to be nearly hopeless, the stampeding hordes and terrifying screams let him know exactly where his lovely little Death Angel now stood.
They may all look like her… but no one can kill like h
er.
Demon slime and human blood mingled together, spraying through the air—ethereal diamond wings, flashing with the strobing lights. Her snarls and curses almost matched the hellish sounds coming from the creatures she now slew.
Varick chased down the stragglers, ripping their hissing heads off. Jenevier finished all the lesser demons, all the ones unlucky enough to be snared by her lethal claws as they tried to mingle with the humans on the dance floor.
“Come, Brother. There’s much yet to do.”
Her voice was all but drowned out by the pounding music, yet somehow he managed to hear her. There was no Jenevier left in the Angel before him. Varick saw the awesome power of God’s avenging hand in that tinkling-haired tiny Grim Reaper who only looked like the woman he loved.
Vashti’s taunts and threats drew out three greater demons. Varick’s blood ran cold at the sight of them. This was going to prove no easy chore. Her ethereal arms were extended, diamond wings spread out to her sides as she slowly backed up to where he now stood, poised for battle.
“Do me a solid, Brother. Go back the way we came and wait for me. I’ll meet you there shortly.”
“Do you a what?” He shook his head. “Remind me to throttle Vareilious upon our return,” he grumbled. “Vashti, are you trying to protect me? Listen well, little Angel. Now’s not the time.” Varick drew his giant sword and looked her in the eye. “Shoulder to shoulder.”
For a fraction of a second, he saw Vashti’s rubies fade and the magical pink eyes that stole his soul appeared as she nodded her head in understanding.
At first, the demons came before them as men, giant and threatening and deadly. Varick knew without a doubt, the first move would be hers. And… she didn’t let him down.
Vashti disappeared from his side, her swirling blue form reappearing behind their adversaries. Her attention was focused on the middle of the three monstrosities. Varick gave her an almost imperceptible nod. He attacked with raw fury, the suddenness of which startled his prey. Steel clashed with steel. Claws flashed through the darkness. Together, they made short work of the double-teamed, unlucky sap whose putrid head now rolled across the floor.
Only two remained. Varick’s mind eased at these new odds. They paired off, one to the other. Jenevier’s demon was double armed, brandishing a blade in each hand. She did something then Varick had never seen her do before. She picked up the recently slaughtered demon’s mighty sword, adding it to her arsenal. Varick smiled.
Steel clashed and rang and echoed down the bone strewn catacombs. Otherworldly opponents, locked in immortal combat, well matched in strength and skill, death the only acceptable outcome. The battle didn’t prove an easy thing for either of them. What was gained this bloody day would be well earned, deserved.
Varick and the demon he fought had both managed to unarm the other, their conflict coming down to bloody fists, brute strength, and bone-crushing blows.
Jenevier’s adversary released another painful howl as a large chunk of his thigh fell to the ground, sloshing gruesomely against the stones. Cold black blood dripped from the edge of her borrowed blade. Yet with all her might and speed, she had not managed to get close to his demented heart. This formidable demon didn’t carry two swords just for show. He knew how to use them, kept her on defense most of their battle.
Varick palmed a stray human skull, an abandoned relic of days gone by, an ancient artifact someone had unceremoniously excavated from its crowded resting place, and slammed it into the side of the creature’s head, splintering the forgotten remains nearly to dust. Addling the demon just long enough for him to get a firm hold, Varick viciously ripped its vile head from its now limp body.
He turned to see how his lover fared.
As the regal Guardian spun toward them, Vashti disappeared. Varick found himself staring into the fathomless, terrified eyes of a greater demon. They widened, slightly. He saw the flash of steel silently move across the creature’s chest. Time stood still. Varick watched as horrified realization crossed the hellish face before those black eyes rolled up in its head. The top half of the demonic abomination slowly slid, falling down in slow motion, sloshing upon the ground with a sickening plop. Its legs and abdomen wavered briefly, dead meat swaying, finally toppling down before his noble feet.
And there, behind the slain atrocity from hell, still frozen in her killing stance, stood the only woman he would ever love.
Her curls returned, blue and pink and gold, emitting a heavenly radiance, casting an enchanting glow on their dismal surroundings. Her right hand remained high in the air, firmly grasping the large hilt of her borrowed sword. Face tilted downward, mouth slightly opened, her heaving chest forcing air over her teeth, out her parted lips. Jenevier’s magical pink eyes were looking up and through him, focusing on nothing, filled with determination.
She just stood there, an ethereal statue, frozen in time, covered in blood, oozing fierceness from every pore. He was in awe.
Varick felt the hungry beast rising within him. An animalistic growl pulled her distant gaze back from the beyond. She focused on him, on the heavenly beauty that was her Guardian Prince, battle rage pulsing through her veins as powerfully as it did his.
Formality and restraint fled. In a blink, he had her tiny body pushed up against the subterranean wall. She tore through his tunic, their hungry mouths exploring each other.
“Varick… I desire you.”
His lips covered hers, silencing her words, fueling her already uncontrollable passion.
He moved in her, forcefully. She moaned, eyelids fluttering.
Varick shook his head, trying to push the delicious memory back into hiding. A wry smile crossed his face when he recalled her words.
“Promise me you will accompany me on all future summonses. Never have I known such pleasure. You have spoiled me with desire, my Prince. I will demand such daily.”
She kissed him once more, stopping time, ceasing reality, stamping an eternal memory on their racing hearts. They began again.
After that glorious night, I was overcome with primal jealousy every time she was paired with another, he thought. I never confessed such. But… she knew.
He was still smiling when he burst through the clouds over Val Hal.
“It wasn’t long after that, her powers waned as her belly grew,” he mused. “I cannot recall if ever I told her, yet I desired her all the more. Motherhood suits her.”
He chuckled to himself as he opened the massive doors and entered their Great Hall.
Chapter 21
Tenshi
(TIN-shee)
All she could see… was the glorious mother moon.
Jenevier knew there wasn’t a moon such as this upon any other layer. Musashi had been right. Jinn was definitely blessed with enchanted nights.
“I love the moon.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“That’s why I chose this room for you, Milady. I wanted to give you the moon, both of them.”
She strained her eyes, searching the darkened corner until she found the outline of the Emperor seated within. He neared her bed, arms laden with her new miracle.
“You died,” Mika whispered.
Jenevier turned to find the young girl sitting beside her on the bed.
“All your blood came out… and you died.” Tears were pooling in front of her lavender eyes, spilling down her lovely cheeks. “I was so scared. I kept screaming your name… but you moved not.”
“Apologies, little one. Don’t waste those precious tears on me.” She smiled weakly. “I’ll not leave you, Mika, not just yet.”
“But you died. Yui even said so.”
“Well, I have returned to you, then. Dry your eyes and bring me some water, child. I thirst.”
“Can you move?” Musashi asked.
“Not yet, my arms won’t obey me. How fares my son? Does he live?”
“He lives. He sleeps.”
The Emperor gently sat down on the edge of her bed, leaning the tightly wrapped
bundle down, letting her gaze upon her angelic miracle.
“Never have I seen a babe such as this.” Musashi smiled at the sleeping boy. “I cannot release him. Neither can I pull my eyes from his glowing face. He’s my little Tenshi.”
“Your… Tenshi?”
“It means Angel, in the old tongue.” Mika answered her question as she returned with the water and tried to help Jenevier sit up. “Color’s returning to your cheeks, Milady. Promise me you won’t die.”
“I promise, Mika. I fear you’re stuck with me for a while. It seems immortality doesn’t exempt one from pain or injury. You just don’t get to die from it. You learn to live through the pain. That kind of stinks, huh?” She winked at the sniffing girl. “I may not yet be able to move, but I can talk and I can hear. So, tell me, child. I wish to know the whole of my story.”
The trembling girl looked at Musashi, who only inclined his head toward her.
“When the babe came, something went horribly wrong,” Mika started. “I feared I’d injured you, inside, when I turned him.” She sniffed again and wiped her eyes. “You told me you had to push. But… there was so much blood. I knew not what was happening. Then you quit screaming. You just went limp. I was shaking so badly my mind went numb. Yui was the one who saw…” She paused.
“Yui saw what? Go on, Mika. All is well now.”
“I saw him not. Yui scooped him up and cleaned him. I only realized what had happened when he started crying.”
Jenevier furrowed her brow. “When Yui started crying?”
“No, Milady. When he did,” she whispered.
Jenevier followed Mika’s watery gaze out to her balcony, coming to rest on a darkened figure, silhouetted by the moon, silently swaying back and forth.
“He will only stay calm when he’s at your breast or in the moonlight.” Musashi spoke as he rubbed her tangled curls. “He loves the moon. Yui’s quite taken with him, refusing to even let Mika hold him.”
“Hold him?” Her voice sounded distant in her own ears.
