“Victoria, you have a Guardian Angel; Katrina. I suggest you stop harboring so much contempt for her and put her to use. Guardian Angels are among the eldest and wisest of all the Angels. Don’t waste the opportunity to have her by your side. Either way, you should always keep in mind that you have an audience. For now, thank you for your company this evening. My shift begins in a few minutes, so I have to excuse myself.” His solemn attitude broke and His hands relaxed and pulled back from the table only to dangle relaxed at His sides. Once again his smile was almost infectious as He looked first to Vic, and then to me. He didn't guess. He didn't look past only to adjust His gaze hoping to get lucky. He looked directly into my hollow eye holes and knowingly at that.
“I understand. Thank you.”
With that said we suddenly heard music approaching from all around us. The Mexican was smiling as the music got closer … It was a Mariachi band! Of all the things a deity could summon up! Their saving grace was the song they were playing; “Sombras,” which we had once grown fond of because of a nearby Hispanic family in the California neighborhood. They translated the verses to Vic as we listened to it back then, and I spoke it allowed now as Victoria was shocked, in a kinda funny way with one brow raised due to the sudden presence of Mariachis appearing from within the room.
“[Quisiera abrir léntamente mis venas,
mi sangre toda verterla a tus pies;
para poderte demostrar que más no puedo amar
y entonces, morir después.]”
***
"I want to slowly open my veins and see all of my blood at your feet to
demonstrate that I couldn't love you any more than I do, and then die."
He’s saying, I love you so much, but you don't love me back.
There was a pure, white light engulfing the room, the Mariachis faded into silence, and a warm sensation flowed through Victoria and all of us within the book. The Mexican walked around Vic’s side of the table as He made His exit. He placed His hand on Vic's shoulder as He passed by her and offered that she take her time and relax before leaving. Then He walked out the door into the restaurant where we saw Him make a turn to the right rather than heading towards the front door.
Vic darted quickly from her chair and through the door to see where He went, and we followed tight on her heels. His bloody foot prints stained the white carpet, but as one of them reached the threshold of the doorway the bloody print ceased without touching the floor tiling of the restaurant. Standing in the middle of the crowded restaurant one of Vic's Valkyries approached Vic and asked what was wrong and if the dinner was still going to take place. Vic's look, as well as mine no doubt, went flush with raw, irritated confusion. We looked around the restaurant attempting to locate the Mexican, and as we turned around we found the door to the white room was now just a wall with an oil painting of a fishing boat on turbulent waters. Below the painting was a couple sitting across from one another at a table for two. They were holding hands across the table and laughing with one another, and they were also two of Vic's Valkyries keeping with the charade of the evening.
We looked around a bit more and hurriedly, and there across the restaurant we saw Him; hair tied back and under a hair net. He's wearing a white shirt buttoned up to His Adam's apple; white pants with a black belt, black shoes, and He was bussing a table with a few beads of sweat on his brow. He glanced at Vic as he worked, but it was as if they had never met. He wiped the table down, reset all the clean plates, silverware, napkins, and upside down water glasses. Plain, uneventful, water glasses. The Mexican then snatched up his tub of dirty dishes, silverware, dirty cloth napkins, and tablecloth and disappeared into the kitchen.
It took Victoria a moment to collect herself. Finally her face relaxed slightly before contorting with frustration, maybe even some anger. She stormed out of the restaurant and the ride home was quiet with a very heavy air.
What a fuckin’ day this was.
Chapter Eight
~
Vincent
Journal entry LI
The next morning, after a night full of Victoria stewing over the words of the Mexican and Lucifer, and never actually going home, Vic found Katrina waiting outside her front door — a front door I really have no desire to walk through again.
“So, you do have the Book of the Damned.” Though we heard Katrina’s voice as Vic stepped out of her car, Katrina’s nude form, out on the front porch of her brownstone, was difficult at best to make out. Would've been nice if she'd put something on so we could more easily see where she was. We also couldn't help but wonder if any of her neighbors were getting a surprise show this early AM, or if Katrina was masking herself to be seen by Vic only. By the smug tone of her voice it was obvious Katrina already had a council with the Mexican concerning Victoria’s dinner with Him.
To our surprise Victoria struck her own Guardian Angel with a great open-handed right cross. Katrina glared at her, and then turned her other cheek. Victoria wasn't inclined to take up the offer and instead elected for a verbal onslaught.
“YOU sent Vincent to Europe to go to school! YOU set it all up to get him away from here! AWAY from me! NOW HE HAS A DEMON INFECTING HIS SOUL AND YOU’RE THE ONE WHO SENT HIM THERE! HOW CAN YOU CALL YOURSELF A FUCKING GUARDIAN ANGEL WHEN IT’S YOUR FAULT HE’S IN DANGER?”
We quickly plugged into Vic's optical nerves to see as much as we could. Katrina's demeanor suddenly changed as a smidgeon of humility shined through … as it damn well should've. She looked Vic in the eyes and finally spoke some truth.
“I did help persuade his parents to send him there for school. My decision was sound as we suspected one of you possessed the book, and because your souls are so unique we couldn’t risk either of you endangering the other.”
“Who is we? You and the Mexican?” Victoria’s words seemed to snarl and growl from the bottom of her throat. She received enough information from the Mexican to flip her switch from crying like a victim to developing a more predatory outlook towards her circumstance.
“No. We are myself and Vincent’s Guardian Angel. We have been with your souls since shortly after God created of them.”
“WHY? What is so damn special about our souls that you had to be with us throughout our entire lives?”
“I’ve been instructed to not give you that information. I am sorry, Victoria.”
“GO TO HELL, KATRINA!”
“I can’t do that either. I’m prohibited from going there for any reason, including in the event of your going there.”
“You’re going to help me find Vincent. Then you’re going to help me get that demon out of his soul. Then you and your friend are going to go wherever you can go that’s not around Vincent or me. Any questions?!”
“I will do what I can for you, Victoria.”
“That question was rhetorical, KATRINA! Let’s go.”
Upon getting back home Victoria summoned up her original acquisitions right in front of Katrina. As best as I could tell, because of the blurriness of Katrina’s form to my sight, she was thoroughly shocked by the sight of the seven youthful souls, and then her observation of what she saw confirmed it.
“Victoria! What have you done? These are the souls of children! Seven little children . . .”
“I know that, Katrina. They’re also the souls you’re going to lead while trying to find out where Vincent is. You’re going with them to find him and you’re going to be accountable for them and their safety.”
“Victoria, perhaps you do not understand this; I’m your Guardian Angel. I don't have the permissions needed for guarding over any others at any other time, especially this many. Secondly; you do not understand what I meant when I said these are children. These souls are new. They never had the chance to become adult souls. These were their first lives as mortals and you stopped them from living those lives out.”
“KATRINA!” Vic buckled up her fist and her arm went rigid ready to swing away. Fortunately Vic was able to dampen her temper and thus
save herself from a potential angelic retaliation, “You’re this far away from me attacking you with every single soul I've acquired!” The last thing she needed right now was some holier-than-thou asshole berating her about mistakes she was already well aware of. Even if this particular asshole was actually holier-than-thou.
“Perhaps, Katrina, you do not understand. By finding Vincent we stand a very good chance of saving him from the Ebony Demon currently influencing and tainting his soul, which would also sever Malus from having a direct link to me, whom, by some odd coincidence, is currently the possessor of the Book of the Damned. Should Malus use Vincent to get to me, and should he figure out that I’m the one who possesses the Book of the Damned, he will unleash every trick up his sleeve to get me to sign over my soul and thereby take ownership of the book via my soul. Once my soul belongs to him, by my blood-sealed contract, he’ll have no one to ever challenge him for the ownership of the throne of Hell, and you, Katrina, will have failed miserably as a Guardian Angel who’s only charge was to protect the particularly unique soul which currently resides in MY body! Now, are we on the same page?”
“I will lead the young ones and seek out Vincent immediately.”
An angel, no ... a Guardian Angel, just admitted to a mortal that she was incorrect? Bravo, Victoria. Bravo! But, Guardian Angels are supposed to be some of the eldest and wisest of the angels. It would seem there was more, or perhaps less, to this angel than we know.
“Katrina, one other thing, though I'm sure this has already weighed heavily on your mind …”
“Yes, Victoria?”
“You said Vincent had a Guardian Angel as well. My condolences if anything bad has come of that angel.”
“Thank you, Victoria.”
In moments Katrina and the Virtues were on their way to Europe to seek out Vincent. We knew this could possibly take some time since we still hadn’t heard anything concrete from the Valkyries sent previously. It was during this respite Victoria called upon Evelyn to help her get some rest and gain some strength for what may lie ahead. She’s still not used to Evelyn residing within her and as such Vic spoke the request aloud. She giggled at herself as Evelyn’s work took effect. She hit the pillow and was snoring in seconds.
Journal entry LII
Only a couple of days passed before Katrina and the Virtues returned, and with the three Valkyries Vic had sent previously in tow. Their moods over their findings were somber and heavy as it was confirmed Vincent had transferred to a different college and changed his identity to help mask his tracks. Clearly this was all under the influences of the Ebony Demon the Mexican told us about, but I had never known of such a demon as clever as this one while I was in Hell. Could an Ebony Demon now exist that was actually this powerful, this intelligent so as to teach a mortal skills with which to mask one’s identity in these times? I strongly suspect Vincent may have had an inkling of such things and the demon simply capitalized on them. Perhaps my questions were about to be answered.
“... But there’s more, Victoria. Vincent isn’t infected by just an Ebony Demon,” now the air became dense enough for us to swim in! We were almost wishing the suspense would last much longer as it had to be better than the news Katrina was hung up on giving us. Then, finally …
“He’s infected by three Ebony Demons.” Yup. That'll do it.
“Three?! Katrina, are you sure?” Vic was obviously torn between reacting like the victim she played the part of so many times before and reacting like the predator she and I both knew she had in her. Her brow furled and her eyes gleamed with a fire we had not previously seen in her gaze. The corner of her mouth opened in a slight sneer as if a growl was about to escape her lips. She was rested, her strength was high, her mind was clear, and she said what I knew she would say …
“We’re going to Europe! What of Vincent's Guardian Angel?”
“I couldn't determine for sure what had happened, but Vincent’s Angel was nowhere to be found. I can only hope the demons didn't ensnare him and drag him off to Hell.”
“Regret sending Vincent to Europe yet?!” Vic's words were pointed and her jab was unmistakable as anything else than what it was. Katrina isn’t going to live this down for a long time to come.
I guess in the absence of any other good news, it could be said that at least Vincent transferred from Oxford to Cambridge and didn’t just drop to some sort of community college to continue his studies. We can’t help but wonder which subjects a demon might want his prey to study, but that’s neither here nor there. This change of location for the sake of education wasn’t for reasons which were rational in any way.
Though Katrina offered to simply open gateways for us to pass through and into the United Kingdom, Vic wasn’t having it. She can only handle being around Katrina for a minimum of time for the foreseeable future. Due to Vic’s own gate creation skills currently being limited to other realms, and not through the planet to long distance destinations, she will be flying to our destination. However, we suspect she’s flying for one other reason. It’s a reason we know she won’t admit aloud. Flying there is a delay.
The instantaneousness of stepping through an angel’s gate, and then moments later facing whatever it is we’re going to face, is a step she’s not yet prepared to take. Vic has had the fortitude for so long to not just jump into something without considerable forethought, but this isn’t just forethought. This is Vic pulling back while moving forward. Whereas people tend to plan for the worst and hope for the best when knowingly faced with challenges, Vic knows, deep down, just getting worse may be the best she can hope for.
Journal entry LIII
Even in the time of my life as a mortal I didn’t care for this region; too much rain and fog contrasting incredibly dry senses of humor. But in the very few years I was here, this place was barely some villages and small settlements. My keepers had heard news of new towns springing up with new trade and opportunities to do what they did best. It was to be a good break from the suspicions of the villages and cities they’d been migrating between for some years. So the trek was made.
As we arrived today, flying over we can see so much, but with no familiarity at all. But then a lifetime of being a ground-dweller gives such a limited perspective. This must be how the angels see the world when they want to.
Even after being dead, damned, and gone from this place for so long, I just can’t quite put my finger on why this country seems so … off … to my mentality. It certainly has its good points; the art museums, the history, most of the people, the country sides are spectacular in either of the seasons (the rainy or the foggy), but something about this part of the world just sets me off kilter.
I would be remiss; however, were I to not take some moments to recount the highlights of our very long flight! To say the flight started off as mundane and lacking of even the most minuscule speck intellectual stimulus would be an epic understatement. I guess one lasting effect from being in Hell for millennia is there's always something happening; whether or not it counts as entertainment might be debatable. It's not that we don't have times in the mortal realm with nothing to do; it's being cooped up in this metal tube with limited resources for entertainment. Fortunately we had our collective imaginations to help make this an interesting ride.
The first thing we did, which wasn't much better than the boredom itself, was to read pretty much every newspaper, pamphlet, magazine and brochure on the plane. The only thing which stood out was an ambassador to Great Britain, Malcolm Healy, who happened to be from Vic's home state, had mysteriously gone missing, but none of this brought any real relief from our fidgety state.
As we've watched A LOT of television over the years here in the mortal realm — you have no idea how many times Tom and Martha thought they had a ghost in the house because of the TV being on at all hours of the night after everyone had gone to bed — and to say the least we've seen a huge spectrum of human history and entertainment come out of that screen. So, at one point, I went out onto the win
g and did an impression of that gremlin tearing the wing apart in that old black and white episode with William Shatner. I snarled and gripped at the metal skin of the plane, bounced around on it and carried on as such for some time until I could see Victoria finally cracking a smile. It was odd that we found ourselves so intent on acting like an ass to lighten Vic’s mood and try to lift her spirits.
My apologies, Vic, I know you'll read this at some point and I hope you understand when the puns are intentional and when they’re not.
Seeing this girl grow to such an incredible young woman has, admittedly, made her something like a daughter to us, in a really loose sort of way of course. Hell is so devoid of such emotions and sentimentalities and I think we had all become more inhuman than human from all the years we spent there. I especially never expected to have anyone I could think of as my daughter! Not even in looking back across the life I lived prior to falling into the pit, as my choice to have children was taken from me through the abuses I suffered. Still, I’m thankful for Victoria, despite all the anguish which might befall her because of her association with us. I do wish there were a way to keep all this from her, or keep her from it. But enough of this pity party! I can no more take away what she faces than I could’ve not been sucked out of Hell and fall in her lap, well, her mother’s lap. There's something I don't need to reminisce about. On with the fun!
A rather attractive woman was sitting in the seat next to Victoria during the flight. To be quite blunt about it she was a conceited cunt who gave zero regard or courtesy to others. Her mindset appeared to be such that everyone was living in her world by her good grace. Well hello, Vanity!!! We just had to take a peek into this bitchy Brit’s brain to see what other transgressions might be lurking, and she was full of them! Using older men for their money. Using younger men for sex or friend-zoning them to just use them for her menial tasks and amusement. She befriended other women just to steal their boyfriends or show off the fabricated superiority of her life while demeaning theirs. Even when the other women have something superior to what she has, she shrugs it off as trivial. She gaslights a lot — accusing others of what she's actually guilty of committing. She says she believes in that which she doesn't believe in, making the sum of her life’s achievements no more than an exhibition of self-service and the exploitation of others. More than once she had looked Vic up and down and thoroughly inspected everything about her without finding fault in anything so she could verbally accost her, at least until Vic touched up her lipstick.
Legacy of Judas - Book One Page 29
