Betrayal - A Demon Squad Story

by Tim Marquitz

  Betrayal

  By Tim Marquitz

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  Copyright 2011 Tim Marquitz

  Cover art by Jessy Lucero

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  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any form, including digital, electronic, or mechanical, to include photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the author, except for brief quotes used in reviews.

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  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

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  Betrayal

  (Scarlett’s Story)

  As I had every evening since I’d returned to Heaven, I knelt outside the throne room of God and prayed for his return.

  And as it had been every other night, my prayers went unanswered.

  My knees were stiff from kneeling upon the cold tiles, so I rose to my feet with an empty sigh, hearing others of my brethren doing the same around me. The flickers of God’s essence, which clung to the Kingdom, were more a vexation tonight than they’d ever been. Too great a presence to be completely scoured away, what remained was but the slightest hint of a scent, the flutter of a dying breath; just enough to remind me of what we’d lost. Tonight it seemed a glimmer more than usual, but it was no comfort.

  God was gone, and we were still alone.

  I glanced about the hall, meeting the eyes of my brethren in turn. Sorrow filled many of them, cold resolution in the rest. Several of the retiring angels nodded and waved in my direction as they made their way from the temple. A few simply turned and left without acknowledgement.

  It was a frustration I’d largely learned to live with.

  Though I’d cast aside my demonic heritage, wholly embracing the light of the Lord, there were still those who felt I was little better than the Fallen and should be cast out. Their antipathy had been held in check when God sat upon the Throne, but His disappearance was a spur to many who believed the influence of Lucifer, and those of his line, had been the cause of God’s departure. No longer leashed to the Father’s disapproval, their anger had slithered through the cracks and been set loose.

  The return of Duke Forcalor had done nothing to lessen the bitterness of their beliefs, however unfounded. Granted free will, they would think as they would, and nothing but time or the return of God could change that.

  I strolled the along the courtyard path on my way home, the clinging memories of the Father heavy on my mind. I had known him so short a time, but his absolute acceptance of my devotion and place in Heaven had been the greatest moment in my existence. Born in Hell, I did not fit amongst the demons, or even the Nephilim who walked the Earth, the call of the Choir ringing loudest in my breast since the moment of my birth. I knew where I belonged.

  He had seen that in me, and had rewarded my obeisance, but now He was gone. I wished only to prove my dedication once more and bring back the Heaven I’d known under His guidance.

  It seemed a dream. Wishing to wrap myself inside its warm contentedness, I returned home. One last prayer to the void as I crawled beneath the covers of my bed, I lay my head to rest.

  Sleep was slow to come.

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  The whisper of steel pulled me from my dreams.

  Honed by the sharpened edge of battle, I gave no thought to anything save survival. I rolled from the bed and lashed out as I dove to claim my blade. My shin collided with rigid muscle, and I heard the whoosh of lost breath as I leaped past my unknown assailant. My fingers settled on the pommel of my sword, and I drew it free, its confident song filling the air.

  Everto in hand, I spun about to see the blade of an axe buried in the mattress where my head laid just moments before. Golden hands clasped its leather-wrapped shaft and worked to pull it free as I advanced on instinct. I took only one step before I could take no more. My feet seemed to fill with lead as my sleep-sodden mind processed what my eyes saw. Awareness roared to life.

  This was no demon that stood before me, no zealot of the dark arts come to kill me in my slumber, but one of my own kind; an angel, one I’d known my entire life.

  “Valore?” I could barely bring myself to name him under the weight of what he’d done. He had tried to kill me, here in my home; here in Heaven. For all the whispered complaints and frustrated stares of the Choir, I could never have imagined such a heinous act being committed in the Kingdom. My strength withered at the thought, and Everto drooped at the end of my trembling arm. I could barely feel it in my hand.

  Valore pulled the axe free and turned to me with a grin, one so far removed from the murderous act he had just tried to commit as to make me question whether I was yet awake.

  “Come now, did you truly think you could betray Gabriel and not believe his retribution would find you?”

  A scream erupted outside, its terror setting my pulse to pounding, followed by another, and still another. Though I didn’t recognize the voices, their sounds raw with agony and sick with betrayal, there was no longer any doubt this was just a dream. Death had come to Heaven by the cruelest of means. A cloying numbness seemed to envelop me as I stared at my would-be assassin. A prayer came to mind right after, and I swallowed it back, its taste bitter given the circumstances. There was no Lord to hear, to save His people.

  Valore advanced, his axe swaying contemptuously before him. His smile grew sharper. “Give in to the inevitable, Scarlett. You’re no better than your precious duke, just another demon pretending to be one of us. You don’t belong here. You never did.”

  His words sunk in like talons, tearing at my heart. I’d served God as loyally and faithfully as any other, and for Valore to claim otherwise was a venomous wound. I felt its blow hit home, his declaration brushing aside all my sacrifices to prove myself to the Choir. Despite all I’d done to earn the respect of my kin, here was the sad truth of it; I was still an outsider, my value tainted by the demonic blood that ran through my veins. I could feel it even now, the sear of it as it flowed through me, screaming for my acceptance.

  I glared at Valore as he hefted his axe, readying to strike me down. The grin never left his lips. He had spoken the truth. I was everything he said I was. The axe dropped.

  Everto caught the haft with the edge just inches from my skull. I met Valore’s bright eyes, the words of my cousin echoing through my mind. There are two types of people in life: enemies and those who will become enemies. It’s sometimes better just to kill them all and worry about sorting out the pieces later. Frank sometimes made a twisted sense. I knew then what needed to be done.

  Anger welled up inside me and chased away my weakness. My grip tightened upon the hilt. I stepped left and twisted my wrist to bring Everto around. As the axe finished its descent, my blade sunk into the meat of Valore’s biceps. His scream joined those that filled the air outside. His arm fell limp to his side. A quick flick of Everto severed the tendon at the elbow of Valore’s other arm. His axe slipped from his grip to clatter to the floor.

  “For all my trials to be a part of the Choir, I’ve had to scratch and claw my way to but a meager acceptance. If my torment has done nothing else, it has forced me to become the best I can be. And though the cursed blood of devils taints my lineage, it was you who stood above my bed with intent to slaughter me in my sleep. Tell me now, Valore, who is
the true demon here?”

  He opened his mouth to answer, but there were no words of his I wished to hear. I thrust Everto into his throat, the tip piercing through his flesh and sinking into the marbled wall behind him with a grating screech. He twitched and grasped at the blade, blood gushing between his fingers. With wide eyes, he starred at me, his smile gone from his lips at last.

  Though Valore had meant to kill me, I could find no satisfaction in his suffering. I twisted my sword and freed it from his neck, letting him slide to the floor. His life spilled from his wounds, puddling about him as he breathed his last. I slipped my blade between his ribs and stopped his heart. It was all the mercy I could bring myself to offer. Though I knew He would not hear, I sent thanks to the Father that Valore’s soul would find sanctuary under Metatron’s care, and I would not be forced to consume his essence. I could not live with Valore’s spirit being a part of me.

  Yet more screams battered my ringing ears, and I knew the horror that had visited my home was but a pale shade of that which awaited me outside. I drew a deep breath and stared at the portal that separated me from the chaos beyond. Despite Valore’s words, the choir was my family. No matter what I might face, they needed me. If I were to die today, I would do so protecting those I love. God could ask nothing more of me; no one could.

  I stepped from my home to find that Hell had come to my beloved Heaven. Angels battled angels in the roiling white skies. The air was filled with the sounds of war, the smell of charred flesh and blood. Brilliant bursts of energy illuminated the angels who fell to the ground as a rain of corpses. The fury that had overtaken me as I struck down Valore faltered in my breast. All around me were the remains of my family, the dead and dying littering the holy courtyard and filling my ears with their wails of pain and sorrow. The Choir was dying.

  “Scarlett! Come to me,” a strong voice cried out from behind me.

  I spun to see Duke Forcalor waving to me with his free hand, his other holding his midnight blade at the ready. The twisted spikes that adorned his reddened plate mail were covered in the dark shimmer of blood, his long white hair, wild and free of its usual binds, was streaked with crimson. He had not been spared a part in the revolt. I ran to his side as he struck down a young angel that dared to attack him. The boy died with a snarl on his lips.

  There was sadness in Forcalor’s eyes as he turned to look at me. “Gabriel has set us against each other, and I fear I am the cause.” He was gracious not to mention my own bloodlines as he stared out across the plains. A tear spilled down his cheek, mixing with the claret that clung thick to it. “We are losing Heaven, child, but we must fight on.”

  His words rang inside me, dark and chilling. Though the duke had been one of the first of the Fallen, cast from Heaven, Forcalor had always been a sensitive soul. Loyal to a fault to his brother, he had stood beside Lucifer as they fell to Hell, but he had never cursed the Father for what He’d done. And while a demon in the flesh, he was an angel at his core. His courage lit the fuse of my own.

  “Can we not rally the loyal remains of the Choir to strike back?”

  He shook his head. “Michael has taken up arms against us as well, and has apparently orchestrated the massacre of those who did not stand against my return to the Kingdom. Most of our brethren have been murdered in their sleep, our numbers a pitiful few against the tide of those who would see Gabriel take the Throne.” His words came out in a growl. “Uriel still holds Eden. It is there where we must make our stand.”

  Forcalor’s gaze snapped away as a handful of warriors descended upon us. The duke stepped to meet them. “Stand aside, Scarlett. I could not bear the scorn of your mother’s spirit should these heretics harm you.” He dropped the first of the rebels before he finished speaking. The second fell but an instant later, a reddened geyser spewing up from where his head had only just been.

  Valore’s blood still staining my hands, his treason fresh in my mind, I could not bring myself to hold back. Those who would slay the innocent in their sleep were no kindred to me. I darted out from behind the duke and let my blade loose. While named Slayer of Demons, Everto Trucido’s sharpened edge worked just as well on the flesh of angels. The third of the rebels would learn this firsthand.

  His hand glistening with golden energy, I took it off at the wrist. I silenced his scream by burying my blade beneath his chin, pinning his tongue to the roof of his mouth as the steel slid through to crack the dome of his skull. His eyes rolled in their sockets and I felt his weight upon my sword arm.

  Forcalor finished the others before I could draw my weapon loose. “Come, child. We must reach Uriel before he is forced to seal the Garden and we are trapped outside.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me along. “To Eden, my brothers,” he screamed as we ran. Thunder roared, competing with his voice. “Rally to Eden if you would live!”

  As we closed upon the Garden, it was clear Gabriel had known where we would make our stand. Generals on high, He and Michael sent wave after wave of their rebellious legions to assault the gates of Eden. Uriel held strong, an army of desperate angels at his back, though it seemed only a matter of time before they were overcome.

  Uriel’s cherubic face out of place on the field of death, he was no less a warrior for his boyish appearance. Dressed in full battle regalia, save for a helm, his sea-green armor reflected his position in the Angelic Choir. An image of the Tree of Life was impressed upon his breastplate in the finest gold, its roots circling his limbs, and winding their leafy way to his fingers and toes to begin the journey upwards once more. His fiery sword, not simply enwreathed in fire, but made wholly of the flickering tongues of God’s flame, which set light to the sun, laid waste to any who dared come too close.

  Rebel angels melted away at its touch as those allied to Uriel stood at his side and defended the flanks. For all his majesty, it was clear the battle was already turning against the guardian of Eden. He looked frayed and worn, as did Forcalor. It was not the fight itself tiring them, but the nature of the enemy and the field upon which the conflict arose. Never before, not even in the days before Lucifer’s fall, has there been blood shed upon the soil of Heaven.

  God would never allow such treason. A quiet chuckle slipped loose at the thought as I was once again reminded of our abandonment. We were alone, even here in Heaven.

  A massive boom shook me from my sickened reverie, and I glanced up to see Gabriel and Michael joining the fray. The storm of their might showered Uriel and his forces with a rain of magical fire. Uriel stumbled back toward the open gates, defending as he went.

  “I have to help him,” Forcalor growled through clenched teeth as a wave of rebel angels followed on the heels of the archangels’ attack. He said no more as he raced to bolster Uriel. I followed at his heels. Gabriel’s forces were upon us before we reached the gates.

  Forcalor flung aside the first of his attackers. I wasn’t so fortunate.

  My stomach churned at what I must do, and I felt as though my sword couldn’t move fast enough. I cut down several of the heretics as they closed, but for every blow I delivered, I received three in turn. There were simply too many.

  Bursts of energy exploded all about me and I felt my hair catch fire, the flesh of my scalp blistering as I drew left to skewer yet another angel I’d once loved as a brother. The look in his golden eyes slowed my hand further. The blood spilling from my wounds did little to help.

  Though I fought on, I could feel myself weakening. My ribs ached with every breath, a furnace in my lungs. Everto sat heavy in my hand, my knuckles showing white beneath the crimson coat of blood. My magic reined in for defense, to keep the fiery assault at bay, I could not hold the rebels at range. Dozens of bodies littered the ground about me, the courtyard tiles slick with the fluids of dead and dying angels.

  And yet they still came.

  I could hear their muffled shouts of anger, their cries for my head. Each speared my heart in turn and fueled my desire to rid them from my home. Sadly, passion is no shield in time
of war. My vision blurred by weariness and the fog of battle, I didn’t see the angel who’d slipped past my guard until it was too late.

  I spun to meet his blow, but he moved faster. His blade crashed into my left hand. I felt my fingers snap, the bones in my palm crushed under the pressure. White light filled my eyes and I felt my legs wobble beneath me. It had only been by luck that I’d turned his sword aside, the flat connecting with my hand rather than the edge. It made little difference in the pain, though I’d die with all my fingers.

  No adrenaline to fight the agony that raged up my arm, I crumpled to my knees as the rebel angel closed. His gaze locked on mine and I saw him then for who he truly was; Jatar. We had been lovers once, and I’d believed friends after. He laughed as he stood over me, putting the lie to my belief. The remnants of my heart burst inside my chest.

  “Gabriel will reward me greatly for slaying the demon-bitch who poisons the Kingdom.” His words were daggers, carving away the moments we’d had together. He drew his sword above his head and grinned as though we had never been anything but enemies. I couldn’t bring myself to try and stop him.

  The hazel of Jatar’s eyes suddenly turned red, then an abysmal black, before bursting from their sockets. His face melted away like so much candle wax, his body dropping into a heap on the tiles. And for all his intended cruelty, I couldn’t help but mourn his loss.

  Uriel stood where Jatar had just moments before, the sky ablaze behind him. He held out his hand to me. I could feel the heat of his sword as its fury washed over me.

  “All that remains of Heaven is Eden, and I worry that too shall soon fall. I must close the gates before the battle bleeds into the Garden, but I would ask a sacrifice of you, Scarlett.”

  As he helped me to feet, I could only nod.

  A sad smile broke on his face. “Flee to Earth and find help, if there is any to be had. We cannot win this war alone.”