by S.B. Rodgers
The massive wooden doors at the end of the hall swung open, pulled from the outside by unseen hands. A tall figure swathed in a flowing black cloak stepped forward, entering the chamber. A scuffling noise, out of sync with his movements came from somewhere behind him. The doors began to close behind him and he glanced between them and the throne. Draven addressed his unspoken question “Your dogs must stay outside.”
Mammon dipped his head, turned and said a few quiet words, gestured with his hands a few times. The scuffling behind the doors ceased, with the exception of a few soft rustlings, and the doors were closed. He approached the throne, his face hidden by the deep hood of the cloak. Mammon bowed deeply, removing his hood when he straightened and stared expressionlessly into Lucifer’s eyes. Lucifer stared back, taking in the young man before him. He was the opposite of his father in almost every way, he thought with some amusement. Fair-haired, feminine featured and very, very pale; he certainly took after his mother, and though he had his father’s height he had a willowy, nearly delicate frame. Those eyes that bored into his so fearlessly were hardly coloured at all; they held the faintest trace of grey in the iris, adding to his ghostly appearance.
This could be interesting, Lucifer thought. “You feel that you are ready for this task?” He asked Mammon, who opened his mouth to reply. Lucifer held up a hand to stop him. “Before you answer, understand this: failure is not an option. The girl is a game changer, and she must not be harmed.” He hardened his gaze. “Neither mentally nor physically.”
Mammon nodded once “I understand, my lord.” He said, his voice smooth and emotionless. “I will complete this mission with the utmost delicacy.”
Lucifer dismissed him with a nod “You’d better. Now leave, Hunter. You may all leave.” Draven made to move forward, to leave with the rest of the council, but was halted by Lucifer’s hand on his forearm. “Stay for a moment.” He commanded in a low voice. He waited until the rest had departed and they were alone in the grand hall. “Are you sure he is ready?” Lucifer demanded, watching his subordinate’s square-jawed face for any sign of irresoluteness.
Draven’s mouth twisted slightly in discomfort as his eyes met Lucifer’s. “His methods may be brutal, even for a demon, but…his success rate is unparalleled. He will not fail.”
“Very well. I trust you to brief him with all of the necessary details; I expect nothing less than complete success. I will not be pleased, should he fail.” Lucifer stood, turned and walked towards the hidden door in the wall behind the platform.
He had opened it when he stopped, looking over his shoulder at Draven. “Oh, and one more thing. He can kill the archangels themselves if he finds it necessary, I don’t care, but…If one hair on the head of that girl is harmed, when I’m through with him, your son will wish that he had never existed.”
Chapter 9
The loud knock on the bedroom door startled Abby, her head turning quickly from the mirror to the door. The razor blade slid out of her hand, clattering to the floor. She glanced back at the mirror, but all she saw was her own bloodless face.
“I’m losing it…” she muttered under her breath, pulling her sleeves down to hide the cuts. She winced as the fabric made contact, the open wound stinging. She scrubbed at her cheeks with her hands, trying to bring some colour back to her face. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she opened the door.
The woman standing in the hallway seemed to radiate self-confidence. Her long dark hair was pulled into a neat chignon, showcasing her delicate features and large, chocolate coloured eyes. Her face, which was undeniably beautiful, was somewhat marred by the sneer it was twisted into. She stepped into the room, her tight black cocktail dress rustling and high heels clicking against the smooth wood floor. She towered over Abby, though she was by no means a tall woman. Abby took a few steps backwards as her stepmother advanced.
“Explain yourself!” Kiki demanded, glaring at her haughtily.
“I …. I don’t … what?” Abby stammered.
“You know the rules, you disrespectful little worm.” She growled. “How many times do I have to tell you, you are never allowed to invite guests to my house…EVER!”
Abby bit back an angry retort. This was her father’s house, not Kiki’s. But it was no use arguing with her stepmother. She knew from experience that it would only make things worse.
“I don’t understand what you mean… There’s no one here! See for yourself.” Abby gestured helplessly, the emptiness of the small room proving her innocence.
“Then why-stupid girl-is there a boy upstairs in the foyer, mingling with MY guests and eating MY hors d’oeuvres?!” Kiki screeched.
Abby stared at her for a moment, mind blank. “Are you sure he isn’t one of the twins’ guests?” she ventured tentatively.
Enraged by her audacity Kiki stepped forward. “HE ASKED FOR YOU BY NAME!” She shouted. Grabbing Abby by the shirt collar, she dragged her to the stairs and heaved her up the first step. “Get up there and get rid of him, NOW!” She emphasized her final point with a sharp jab to the middle of Abby’s back.
Abby scrambled up the stairs, struggling not to trip over the steps as she tried to regain her balance. She hurried through the corridors, hearing the sounds of the party growing louder as she got closer to the reception room. She grew more agitated with each step—she usually avoided Kiki’s social functions. Both she and Kiki preferred that she remain shut in her tiny basement room. “I’m not exactly dressed for a party,” she whispered to herself, looking down at her old hooded sweatshirt and jeans.
She peeked around the corner, into the open archway of the ballroom. Abby sighed; she didn’t know who she was even looking for. She immediately spotted him. He stood out, his long, silky blond hair contrasting handsomely with his navy blue blazer. He hadn’t even changed out of his school uniform, she groaned in despair. Though it didn’t look bad on him,—it accentuated his broad shoulders and long, lean frame—but amongst the balding men in black-tie attire and their wives in diamonds and designer cocktail gowns, he looked shockingly out of place.
Abby heaved another sigh, a little annoyed. How did Gabe Ward know where she lived, and, more importantly, why was he here, nonchalantly crashing a party?
She wove through the crowd, heading for the place at the foot of the grand staircase, where he was currently cornered by two elderly gentlemen. The fat one to Gabe’s left was laughing boisterously, while the other snapped his fingers at the closest server, apparently wishing to sample the lobster rolls. Slipping through the crowd unnoticed, she came to stand behind him.
“…and that, General, is how my parents ended up forgetting me at the Beijing Airport for the second time.” Gabe finished what was apparently a very funny story, leaving his audience chuckling appreciatively.
Taking the opportunity of the lull in conversation, Abby reached out and gently tugged on his sleeve. “Um…Gabe?”
He turned gracefully, smiling down at her “Hello Abby!”
“Gabe, my boy! Where do you intend to study after high school? I know the admissions council at Harvard.” The tall, thin man suggested with a crafty smile.
“I haven’t decided yet, but I will keep that in mind, sir.” He replied politely. The man gave him a nod of approval.
More than slightly annoyed by Gabe turning his back on her, Abby reached out and tugged his sleeve a little more forcefully. “Um … Gabe?!”
Again he turned to face her “Yes, Abby?”
“Umm, not to be rude, but--why are you here?
“Ah! Yes, that… excuse me, gentlemen.” He gave a slight bow and turned, giving Abby his full attention. The older men nodded and rejoined the crowd, mingling with their powerful fellows.
“I apologize for the intrusion, but I decided to come by and see if you wouldn’t mind going to the library with me this evening to go over the notes for English?” He asked, looking into her eyes.
Abby glanced away—he was very good-looking…maybe too good-looking, she thought
before pushing the notion aside quickly. “Oh, well, I don’t know.” She stammered. She didn’t really want to go anywhere or do anything except escape to her room.
“Please,” he begged. “It’s difficult being all alone in a new city. I really do need the help to get caught up.”
Her hard expression softened slightly. That still doesn’t explain how he found me. “How did you find out where I live?” She asked slowly, giving him a suspicious look.
“I asked Ms. MacDonald if I could have your contact information, seeing as you rushed out of class and forgot to write it down yourself.” He looked at her pointedly, but not unkindly. “She was reluctant at first, but then she remembered that the lady of the house is a member of the P.T.A. She decided it would be alright to release the information--for educational purposes, of course.” He allowed his eyes to wander over to the beautiful woman who stood glaring over at him. He smiled politely back. “So what do you say, can you spare a few hours and go to the library with me?”
“Well, I’m not sure...” she murmured.
“Please?” he took a step closer, flashing that handsome smile of his.
She would be lying if she said he didn’t seem like a nice guy. “Fine.” She nodded reluctantly. “But only for a couple hours; straight to the library and back.”
“Great! Thanks so much--my car’s out front, so can you go get your books and meet me there?”
* * *
Weaving back through the crowded party, Abby didn't realize until it was too late; Kiki had been watching her the entire time. She was waiting for her at the foot of the basement stairs with a snarky grin on her face. Dread seeped through Abby--if Kiki was happy, Abby knew it didn't bode well for her.
“I'm doing you a favour really, making him leave.” Kiki drawled, fixing her amused eyes on her stepdaughter.
“What?” Abby bristled, waiting for the barb.
“Oh please, do you take me for a fool?” She snapped “I know you like him, that's why you invited him tonight. To show him how well off you think you are.”
Abby attempted to push past Kiki, but to no avail. Kiki grabbed her, her perfectly manicured nails painfully digging into her upper arm.
“Never try that again” she hissed into her ear. “You will stand respectfully and listen when I’m talking to you. Do you understand me?!”
Angry tears stung Abby's eyes. “Yes.”
“What was that? I didn't quite hear you.” She spat, giving Abby's arm a sharp twist.
“I said yes ma’am!” Abby cried out, voice rising sharply in pain.
“That's better.” Releasing Abby’s arm she stepped aside, gesturing for Abby to move along. “Oh, and don't even think of leaving this house. You are prohibited from spending time with that boy outside of school. Like I said, I'm doing you a favour... he's way out of your league.” With a nasty smirk in Abby’s direction, Kiki disappeared back up the stairs, transforming once more into the perfect hostess.
Abby stumbled into her room and threw herself face first onto her bed, hugging the blankets tightly to her. She lay still for a moment, trying to empty her mind of all thought. A nagging feeling and a sudden realization shocked her upright.
“Aah! Gabe!” Jumping off of the bed, she retrieved her book bag and ran out of the room, throwing open the back servant’s door. When she rounded the corner of the house her breath caught in her throat. There was Gabe, leaning against the hood of a black sports car. A classic Dodge Viper, lovingly restored and gleaming with polish under the light that poured from the house’s huge windows. Emotion gripped her; the vehicle looked so similar to her father’s car. Memories of joyful road trips to the ocean with her father flooded her memory.
Sighing, she walked slowly towards the car. She silently admired the dramatic contrast between Gabe’s pale hair and the shiny jet-black paint. She tried to convince herself not to do that. It was important she not have opinions about him or get involved. It would only lead to trouble, and ultimately pain, she thought, rubbing her arm.
Sensing Abby's approach Gabe looked up from fastening his driving gloves and grinned. “I knew if I waited long enough you'd show up” he teased.
“Yeah, well, I'm afraid you've waited for nothing. I'm not allowed to leave after all… I have to stay and help with the party.” She lied, eyes averted – she was a terrible liar.
He smiled, though it didn’t completely mask the disappointment in his voice. “That's alright; I don't think your mom approves of me.” he chuckled softly.
“That woman is not my mother!” Abby grimaced, disgusted by the thought that someone could possibly believe that that creature was her mother.
“Oh! I’m sorry...I didn’t realise…” he said.
“Anyways, I’d better get back before I'm missed. Here, take this; you can give it back to me tomorrow.” She said, offering him her book bag.
“Thank you so much.” He half-grunted as he swung the heavy bag onto his shoulder. “So I'll see you tomorrow then?” he asked.
She resigned herself to the inevitable. “Yes…I suppose you will.”
* * *
Gabe placed the backpack gingerly on the passenger’s seat. He had hoped to steal her away for a few hours, work at gaining her trust and distract her from herself. He sighed. He had seen the faint bloodstains on her sleeves. Nothing like showing up in the nick of time, he thought wryly.
He climbed into the car, adjusting the seat and wheel. He peeled out of the driveway, his feelings mixed. At least, he thought as he turned onto the street, he had convinced her to live on for one more day.
Chapter 10
Satan sat back on the bed, feeling pleased with herself. She could almost taste the change in the air. Sighing in anticipation, Satan rested her face in her hands.
The mirror on the wall flashed brightly and turned to face it, smoothing the wrinkles in her skirt. To her surprise, the young man in the mirror was alone.
She looked around the room portrayed behind him. “Where is she?” Satan demanded. “Where is the girl?”
Raph muttered something unintelligible, staring at the floor
“Speak—UP!” She snapped, jumping off the bed and striding towards the mirror.
Raph flinched and looked into her glaring eyes. “My lady, she—I couldn’t get to her in time. That…that woman” he spat the word out in frustration “got to her the second before—“ he stopped as her fist connected with his jaw, clashing his teeth together and sending him sprawling onto his back on the dusty mahogany floor. He sat up halfway, turning his head to spit out blood before looking at Satan again.
“It seems that I was wrong about you, Raphael. To entrust this to an amateur was a mistake.” Satan stepped forward, the mirror rippling gently as she planted her dainty bare feet on the filthy planks.
He struggled to push himself up into a sitting position, and she held up a hand to stop him “Stay down, you worthless cur.” He froze, trying to dismiss the cold fear that began gnawing away at his insides.
“It was a waste of my time to hire you, wasn’t it?” She forced the tattoos, feeling them slide under her skin, down her arms and towards her elegant fingers. She looked at him icily. “Pity. And I had such hopes for you.” She tensed, preparing to deliver a killing blow.
“Wait.” He said, pushing himself up onto his feet in one fluid motion. Satan glowered at him. “I told you I’d get her for you,” He towered over her, though he wobbled a bit, his footing uncertain after the blow. “and I will.”
Satan scoffed at his bravado. “And how,” she wondered “do you intend to do that?”
Raph glanced away from her gaze for a second before he spoke “I require …permission.”
“Permission? Is that the only way you can manage this?”
“I’d like to have the option.”
She sighed indulgently “I suppose it can’t be helped. I won’t have you disappoint me again, Raphael.”
He bowed his head. “Of
course not, my lady.”
Satan reached up, raised her hand to his forehead, and began whispering. “I grant this Demon the permission to possess, both body and soul, one Abigail Shepard.” The tattoos on her hands writhed, changing into archaic script as they surged down her fingers.
Raph felt a dark rush of power enter his mind, his tattoos racing up his spine and towards the hand on his face, rushing to greet their mistress. She removed her hand gently and he shuddered, the power running rampant through his being.
She turned and moved towards the mirror, leaving Raph to his rapture. She stepped through the mirror, the silver surface enrobing her small form, and severed the connection.
Chapter 11
Standing in front of the mirror, Raph wiped his bloody lips on his arm. He spat onto the floor, the metallic taste of his own blood lingering on his tongue. “That hurt.” He growled under his breath. He trailed his fingers down the surface of the mirror’s glass, deliberately marring the clear surface with his fingerprints.
The marks, and the memory of the cool surface under his fingertips would serve as a guide for his safe return back to this place. He bit his lip and winced, the wounds welling with fresh blood once more. Raph touched his fingers to his lips and smeared the blood onto the mirror as well—a little extra insurance couldn’t hurt.
“Abby’s room.” He breathed and closed his eyes, feeling his body fade into a shadow. When he opened his eyes, he had passed through the mirror and into the girl’s room. She lay in her bed, sound asleep under the covers that rose and fell with her breathing. He stood and watched for a moment, making sure she was truly, deeply sleeping. He launched himself forward, moving silently through the air to hover over her prone form.
He breathed in slowly and began the descent into her soul, intent on driving it from her body, when he suddenly found he could no longer move. He snarled in confusion; what was this? He reeled backwards to make a second attempt, and stopped.
He stared in horror as a golden light began emanating from Abby’s body, radiating and twining into long ropes that swayed around him. They reached for him, wrapping around his limbs individually as he struggled. Other beams of the powerful light appeared, reaching up to wrap his body, to eliminate the threat.
