Knights of Enmity: The Barons Have Fallen (Descending Fires Book 1)

by Sedrie Danielle

  “What was that?” La Croix asked with his brows raised.

  “Pay it no mind. Now go see Cesare. The rest of you find something to do,” Samedi said, waving everyone away. He took a deep breath, standing and lighting another cigar as he walked outside Castle Guédé. He walked for miles, reaching the Fields of Penance where scores of weeping spirits and ghouls plowed the black fields; burying the remains of their children. They cried out to Samedi, reaching for his long coat as his presence teased them with the breath of life.

  “Silence you ghouls! Your weeping falls on death ears you murder-some assholes! The Spirit of the Innocent is the only thing that I will ever allow to pass through my realm, for it gives life to children,” he said, caressing the face of a ghoul; its skin crumbled like weathered rock.

  “Now, show me where it fell,” he commanded and the ghoul limped to an area in the field with a large hole.

  “Tell of the angel that passed through here,” he said, looking down the hole which led to Malkuth.

  “It was no angel my lord,” said the spirit of an old woman.

  “What was it? Speak!”

  “It was He,” she replied and Samedi grabbed her dis-incarnate throat.

  “Who is He?”

  “He is, who is,” she replied, when a sudden revelation hit Samedi like a ton of bricks. He dropped his cigar down the hole and it filled with the soils of Purgatorio.

  “Shit,” he thought to himself, gulping hard, staring at the sky above.

  2

  Cesare & Mila

  Cesare laid next to his wife, Mila, holding her tight as she slept. Her naked body pressed against him induced a sense of comfort that calmed his inner flames. His eyes, wide opened, explored the darkness of their room as an impending doom sat heavy on his chest. It was a feeling all too familiar to him as he recounted the falling of the Order of Powers several years ago.

  The crackling and popping of wood, the faint smell of fire and smoke, caused him to sit up as he knew his fireplace wasn’t burning. After all, it was Spring and they lived in Atlanta. The nights were cool, but not cold enough to burn the fireplace.

  He carefully eased out of their bed and grabbed his black housecoat hanging on the end of the post; covering his tall, muscular frame. Walking down the stairs, the heat from the fires warmed the skin on his face, but curiosity was fixed upon it.

  Cesare’s energy levels heightened as he reached the bottom floor of his house. He began to laugh, placing his hands on his hips in disbelief. A cross burned in his living room, standing about the height of an average man.

  Unfuckingbelieveable, he thought to himself, as his eyes shifted back and forth around the room. While he didn’t see anything, he could feel the energy of someone in the room with him.

  “Our pact is done La Croix. We're done!” Cesare said, in a tone strong enough to make his point, but low enough to keep Mila sleep. La Croix began to laugh as he appeared sitting on one of Cesare's tall, Gothic chairs. His legs were crossed and he sipped on a small glass of rum.

  “I hope you don’t mind, I thought that maybe it was an offering to me,” he said taking another sip.

  “Get out!”

  “Oh, no, no. Such a tone that is. We have business to discuss. Come sit,” La Croix said, giving him that conniving smile he was famous for.

  Cesare folded his arms and stared at him with his large, piercing brown eyes.

  “You know, the funny thing about you humans is, you believe the divine is indebted to you. You ask for power, for wisdom and understanding yet, you want it for free. Everything you are is because of me Cesare. You were Torquemada's greatest student, as he was mine. But you put those skills to sleep. Why? It’s who you are Cesare. A killer. You love it. You miss it,” La Croix said, standing up and walking around him.

  Cesare bit his bottom lip as his eyes traveled in the direction of his wedding photo hanging on the wall, remembering his promise of keeping no secrets. His dealings with La Croix however, was one secret he had to keep and it pained him to do so.

  “She is beautiful. Oh, to be touched by the hand of a Blue Goddess,” La Croix said, redirecting Cesare's eyes.

  “What do you want?”

  “Simple. War is coming. You are the greatest bearer of the cross. I wish you to be at my side once again,” he answered.

  Cesare scoffed. “We're done La Croix. I'm not that confused boy fresh out of seminary. You can’t force me to do your will.”

  La Croix took another sip and slammed the glass on the table. “Fine then. Sacrifices are in order. Here is a list of sixteen we need before the coming of the full moon.”

  Cesare snatched the list and to his dismay recognized two of the names on the list. “Why me? You have slaves all over the world. I can’t do this,” he said, rolling the parchment and handing it back to him.

  La Croix shook his finger and laughed. “You don’t quit a pact, nor is it over. If you do not fulfill this list, then your pact is forfeit. The punishment for such a thing will be, I don’t know...Mila?”

  “I am Magia. I am my own God --”

  “Yet your path to godhood stopped at my front door. See it done. If I notice that you are slow moving, I'll send you a reminder,” La Croix said, disappearing in the shadows.

  “Fuck!” Cesare said kicking his couch. He pondered for just a moment, but there was an urge inside of him which he could not ignore. The urge to kill. Cesare loved it, but kept his blades sheathed as a promise to his wife.

  Seeing La Croix stirred within him memories of a past he wished to revisit just for a moment. “Might as well get my practice in,” he said as he walked upstairs, contemplating on sneaking out of the house.

  Mila slept as La Croix leaned over her, inhaling her scent as his hands traveled down her bare back. He disappeared before Cesare entered the room, but she turned smiling, thinking it was his touch she felt.

  “How are you doing that standing by the door?” she asked smiling. Cesare had a look of confusion on his face which she couldn’t see in the darkness.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The touch of your hands traveling down my back from across the room. Why don’t you take it further down?” she asked sitting up and spreading her legs. Cesare smiled but felt the remnants of La Croix's energy.

  He threw off his robe and met his wife's thick lips with his own and their tongues danced to the rhythm of ecstasy. He lay between her thick thighs as she wrapped them around him; the warmth of her soft body beneath him sending the flow of blood southward. His kisses ran down the side of her neck, but she lifted his head sensing his mind was somewhere else.

  “What's wrong love?”

  “Nothing,” he replied, laughing and avoiding her eyes.

  “Don’t lie. I can feel somethings wrong. Tell me. No secrets remember?”

  Cesare sighed and lifted himself off of her. He sat on the side of the bed and looked into the darkness thinking about La Croix’s visit. She wrapped her arms around his torso, caressing his rippled abs waiting for him to spill the beans.

  “I don’t want to speak anything negative into existence, but I just feel that some bad shit is about to go down. I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said.

  She squeezed him tight. “Babe, nothing’s going to happen to me, or us for that matter. Things are good right now, the waters are calm.”

  “Yeah, but you know how quickly that can change. I don’t know, I’m just being paranoid I suppose.”

  “I think I know a remedy for that,” she said, pulling him on his back.

  Mila climbed on top of him, kissing her way down to his half limp member. La Croix’s visit had become a distant memory as Mila’s oral pleasures sent him to an intoxicating state of being. He grabbed her head as the wetness of her tongue stroked the length of his member.

  Cesare released a soft moan as Mila was close to bringing him to climax. He grabbed her, moving her body up and she mounted him. Thrusting into her from beneath, he gave her no control. He roll
ed her on her back, placing one leg over his shoulder; dominating her.

  Mila’s moans became screams as Cesare’s unrelenting strokes brought her to orgasm. One wasn’t enough and he continued on until her body was limp and sore, just as he liked it. He held her close, quickly shifting gears as she nibbled on his chin; planning the remainder of his night.

  Once Mila had fallen to sleep, he crept out of bed once again; this time heading for the closet. Quietly, he reached in the back for a chest containing several black cassocks. He quickly got dressed and looked back at his sleeping wife as he stood in the doorway.

  “I love you Mila. And I'm sorry I have to do this, but I can’t lose you again, so I'm going to keep this to myself. For now,” he said in Spanish, barely at a whisper.

  ***

  Two hours later, Mila woke to the cold silence of the night as the warmth of her husband no longer gave her comfort. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, while she rolled to the edge of the bed; her feet sinking into the plush, black carpet beneath.

  Where did you go? she asked herself; attempting to call him on her cellphone. Her effort however, was met with a straight to voicemail message; sending her into a slight panic.

  She turned on the side lamp, but their black, Gothic styled room was still quite dim. Her eyes locked onto his side of the bed; noticing the closet was left open in the distance.

  Each time the phone buzzed or blinked with a message, her heart jumped with anticipation hoping it was him, but the disappointment fed an anxiety she could not ignore. The numbness in her legs, which held love between them just hours ago, trembled as she paced back and forth.

  There was a deep, gut wrenching feeling of doom which sat upon her stomach as she knew, he was up to no good. “You promised me you would stop. Why do you do this?” she asked herself aloud, shaking her head and wiping tears.

  The anxiety became agonizing as her mind created scenarios with unshakable images. Tying her long, jet black weave in a bun atop her head, she put on some jeans, a t-shirt and a jacket; determined to find her love and bring him home.

  She pulled out a map; dangled a pendulum between her blue nails and allowed her mind to connect to his. As the point dropped, she closed her eyes and sighed, as she knew of his deeds.

  The cool, night air gave her body no ease as goosebumps rose on her chocolate skin with each passing breeze. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, her feet began to levitate off the ground and she took flight under the cover of darkness.

  He wasn't far from their home. Hovering just above the brush of the forest to keep herself hidden, his Black Challenger could be seen parked down the street from a cathedral within her view. The adjoining streets were quiet, there were no cars or pedestrians walking about; typical of the area after midnight.

  The calm sounds of the night crickets was a far cry from the hysterical wails bellowing from the back of the cathedral. Mila opened the door to the pastor's study, and her eyes set upon her husband.

  A tall, handsome man, brooding over four priests like a dark shadow wearing a cassock and a collar. Each of them were gagged, beaten, and tied to chairs. Cesare’s long, black hair fell past his face as he questioned the men who couldn't respond through the thick mask of duct tape.

  He could see Mila entering the room through the curtain of curls; a gift of his mixed ancestry. “Tell me, how many boys have you destroyed? Hmm? Did God sanction your union?” he yelled, slapping a priest in the face.

  Mila closed her eyes as she fought with herself to either stop him or let him be. My dearest Cesare. Why? she asked herself, as she made her presence known. He looked up at her, his eyes full of anger by the likes she hadn't seen in a long time; the fingers of a priest in a wire cutter he held onto.

  “Babe, come home with me and leave these people alone. Please,” she said, holding out her hand.

  “Why the fuck are you here Mila? Leave me to my business!” he yelled at her.

  She folded her arms and watched him as he cut the fingers of the priests off, one by one. Their screams and cries sounded as a symphony to his soul, and it gave him great pleasure as he danced to it. Blood dripped from his fingers and splashed across his face as he gave the priests nubs.

  “Now, pray with that shit,” he said laughing.

  Mila sighed, looking disappointed.

  “What do you want me to be Mila? A fucking postman? I am a warrior and I will kill all who sin in the name of a false God. They will not destroy any more lives my love,” he said, as he pressed his palm against one of the priest's head; lighting him on fire using his Magia.

  Cesare, standing at six foot four, stretched his arms out as if re-enacting the crucifixion; smiling and laughing as they burned. Mila turned away and walked out, silently expressing her displeasure with him. Cesare walked out after her, burning everything in his path with the touch of his fingers, laughing as he made the sign of the cross.

  “Cesare! I'm sick of your shit!” she yelled as she made her way to the door.

  “Don't blaspheme in the house of the Lord,” he said, closing the door behind him as if shutting the events out of his life forever.

  While the flames raged on the inside, he grabbed Mila wanting to kiss her thick, pink lips, but she pushed him off.

  “You promised me you would stop the priest killings Cesare,” she said, sounding extremely disappointed. He shrugged.

  “And God said he would stop killing people by water. Has that happened? No! The church claimed they would start living in truth. That they would do something about the fucking pedophiles, but has that happened? No! It won’t happen until I take a stance and make this shit stop!”

  “How much more righteous are you? Killing unarmed, innocent men Cesare? What would your brothers in arms think of you if they knew you were out here doing this?” she asked.

  He stared at her, his eyes making their way to her double D's, then back up to her angry eyes.

  “This isn't the business of the Order of Magia Chaotica. This is my own mission, and there is nothing innocent about these men!” he shouted, just as there was a small explosion on the inside. He grabbed her and pulled her to the car, but she hit at him.

  “Get in the fucking car!” he yelled at her, staring with is dark, intense eyes. Cesare's voice was deep and boomed when he yelled, but Mila was used to it and did not flinch. She folded her arms and looked away.

  “Fuck Mila!” he cried, grabbing her by her waist and lifting her to reach his face. “Why do you have a problem with this now? My Chocolate Drop used to love it when I did things. Now she gives me shit about it,” he said, stealing a kiss.

  She wiggled out of his arms and hopped in the car. Cesare sighed and kicked the air as though punting a field goal screaming: “Fuck!” Mila was somewhat tickled with his tantrum, but chose to maintain her attitude.

  Cesare got a glimpse of his face in the mirror. Blood was dripping down the side of his smooth, olive skin, and he reveled in it. His onyx eyes began returning to normal as he watched the crimson dribbles trail towards his goatee, which he thought about shaving.

  He turned his back to the car, reaching in his pocket for the list La Croix gave him, making fourteen, ten. He drove in silence, wanting to gain her forgiveness, but angry at her for ruining a classic moment. “Baby, I love you,” he said, staring at the road.

  “Drop me off at the Palace, but you find some place to stay. I don't want you home when I get back,” she said, as tears ran down the side of her face.

  “You're kicking me out again?”

  “Yes. I don't want to see you. Any part of you. I'm sick of this shit Cesare,” she said.

  He sighed and turned off the road. “You knew exactly what I was when you committed your vows to me! Don't make it seem like I'm the only fucking monster in this car!” he shouted.

  “Oh here we go, are you still going to keep that over my head?” she turned to him.

  “You kill. I kill. Plain and simple. The only difference is, you think yo
ur kills are justified, but you do what I do. I know you're not at the Palace all the time, but I don’t say shit and let you do your thing. Your recruits have increased nearly a hundred fold and that's because you go out and “save” these girls from their doom. Or am I mistaken?” he said, glaring at her sternly.

  She turned to him and started laughing as tears ran down her face. He grabbed her and kissed her on the forehead.

  “We are both monsters love. And no matter how light and fluffy we try to make our lives, there is always some blood to be had. I love you for who you are, I just need the same in return.”

  She stared at him with her brown eyes and smiled. “I do Cesare, but I wish you would tell me when you're going to do things, I hate it when you sneak.”

  He looked at her cross. “So you're not actually mad about me blowing up the church, and fucking up the priests, you're mad because I snuck out of the house to do it?”

  She nodded and he burst into laughter. “Dammit girl! I thought you were really fired up at me. I'm sorry love. I won’t sneak anymore,” he said sincerely.

  “But, I miss our dates Mila. When we used to go out and do this together. I guess I just wanted to remember what that felt like.”

  “Then why didn't you just say so?” she asked, smiling.

  “I’m saying so now. I know you and Bibi have been really busy at the Palace, so I just took a step back.”

  “I’m never too busy to destroy the world with you my love. I miss it too. In fact, there is a wolf den just down the road,” she answered with a smile on her face.

  Cesare returned the smile and revved up the engine, speeding down the road until they reached a wooded cave entrance at the end of the long winding road. They parked the car behind a thicket of trees and vines out of sight of the sentinel they knew would be looking in the direction of the street entrance.

  The couple popped the trunk and Cesare grabbed a black bag. They disrobed, Mila pulling over her head a nun’s habit, Cesare buttoning a red cardinal’s cassock. Mila pulled his long curly hair back in a ponytail and he covered her head with a coif and veil. They bowed to one another with their hands in the position for prayer.