Iris Harper

The Pits

It took Kaiyu some considerable time to make her way from the outskirts of the Catacombs to the halls proper. She had came to the tunnels through one of the fringe entrances, a passage half-collapsed in neglect and stinking of brackish water, sewage and mold. There were many reasons why demons avoided those parts of the catacombs, beyond the simple fact they had long fallen into disuse and disrepair. It was eye-stingingly unpleasant to make one's way through those remote locations, overrun by the detritus and muck of the city, especially if one had the superior senses of the immortals. Kaiyu could almost taste the dirt and the rat droppings dissolving in the water, the green fluorescent mold on the walls, and the half-rotted corpses of rats, and cats, and mushrooms alike. It was horrible. It was perfect.

She found a dry niche in one of the side corridors, high up and likely to have been designed with the idea of holding glow-orbs. It would do. She wrapped the sword and crumpled letter in a length of canvas that some car owner would miss in the morning, and stuck them into the hole. The canvas was grey and dusty, spotted with wear and the whims of the weather and countless pigeons. Taking a few steps back, even Kaiyu's eyes slid over the spot where her secrets were stashed. But it was the distasteful nature of those remote locations that made them an ideal hiding spot above and beyond her skills in camouflage. No one who had no great reason would ever venture here. She counted the paces to the mouth of the side corridor, looked around for any trails she might have left, and, satisfied, walked away.

She walked slowly, her broken toe and severed tendon shooting tendrils of pain up her leg with each movement. Still, the pain was a relief, in a peculiar fashion. Demons were not spared the itching associated with flesh knitting itself back together. Instead, they got all the itching of weeks in the space of hours.

As she made her way to the more respectable parts of the catacombs, Kaiyu thought on her encounter with Valac, on the contents of the angel's letter and on the dangerous contest of power to which she had become a hostage. Her feet carried her, limping, towards the Pits, almost before she had fully decided that she needed Zaebos's experience and advice to begin to disentangle the mystery of this situation. She did not trust the old demon, of course, but she trusted him more than any other creature in Hell. She trusted him not to get overly involved in this game of power that looked nothing if not deadly. He had not lived as long as he had by being stupid. And stupidity could get them both killed.

Kaiyu snapped out of her reverie as the two Wardens posted at the entrance of the Pits moved to block her path. She looked up, meeting their stoic and dull gazes. Her claws pushed out of her tensed fingertips and a growl built up in the back of her throat. She had had quite enough of demons thwarting her tonight, and these two grunts didn't have the rank, or the right, to stop her. They could, however, just provoke her into doing something she would later regret. Oh sure, brute force was on their side, but even wounded she was much faster and more agile. She would not kill them-of course not-but a lesson in respect and rank.... Kaiyu shook her head, trying to push away the thought.

"Oh, step away, you hulking fools, step away! Let her pass. Don't you see she is about in the mood to rip out your throats? Step away, I said!" The voice was wheezy and impatient.

The two guards remained in place for a few more seconds, then reluctantly stepped aside. Kaiyu gave them a long, cold stare, feeling peculiarly disappointed at the easy resolution, then stepped past them and into the Pits.

Few demons ever came into the Pits willingly, Zaebos probably being the only exception. Decades ago there had been regular inspections, but the old demon had been running the place for so long no one bothered anymore. The name itself was a bit of a misnomer. There were no pits in the Pits, no bubbling cauldrons of tar and demons with tridents nudging their fellows towards redemption: In fact, it was a rather orderly and clean prison. The floors were swept clean, the doors looked to be in good repair and incredibly massive, as they had to be, since the occupants of those cells were not mere mortals.

Kaiyu’s sharp hearing picked up shallow, quick breathing from behind one door, clink of chains from another, and some wet, sucking sound from behind a third.

"Seven Hells, girl, you smell like you waded through the sewers. And look like you fought the world's biggest rat. What in the name of the Betrayer happened to you?"

"It was the world's biggest Raven, in fact..." Kaiyu's voice was matter-of-fact, her eyes focusing back on the old demon. His crocodile head snapped its jaws in surprise, and the human one tilted and studied her. He turned then, and wobbled quickly down the corridor "Come. I have a bucket of clean water in my office. Was for the floors, but you need it more."

Kaiyu followed him, still limping, nose wrinkling at the mere idea of water. It was true she smelled seven kinds of foul, the stink of the sewers clinging to her flesh like a shroud, but taking a bath tonight? She hissed involuntarily.

The heavy door of black wood at the end of the corridor was slightly ajar and Zaebos pushed it open with one impatient move and stepped in. The open doorway revealed a messy office with piles of teetering paper shoved against walls and under desks to open up enough space for one brimming bucket of water in the centre of the room. A mop was lying next to it, as if carelessly dropped, and some water had spilled out of the bucket and formed a clear puddle on the floor. Zaebos clearly had been heading to mop the floors when Kaiyu's arrival interrupted him. He picked up the mop and started sweeping at the puddle with furious efficiency.

"The niche back there. You can take the bucket and clean yourself up. Seriously, girl...you reek."

Kaiyu moved in and picked up the bucket. As she lifted it her wounded side and shattered toe gave a sharp painful protest, and she staggered a bit, sloshing water over the floor and her feet. Her hackles rose and she hissed. Zaebos rested on his mop a moment, studying her, and chuckled.

"The cat is strong tonight. Someone has really pissed you off, eh, kitten? Well, go settle your temper and wash...and then you can tell me all about it."

Kaiyu shot him a murderous look, then steadied the bucket in her hand and moved towards the side niche that Zaebos had indicated. There was not much of a division between the room and what seemed to be the shower, just a bump in the floor to contain the water and a drain in the middle. The small room itself had absolutely nothing to distinguish it, apart from a stand with a bar of rough soap on it. Demons kept to the basic precepts of hygiene, but no more so than necessary.

It took Kaiyu fifteen minutes to stop hissing at every touch of water. When she could finally tolerate the offensive liquid, she washed herself up quickly, scrubbing vigorously with the bar of soap and finally sloshing the rest of the bucket over her head. That caused a snarl to escape her lips, and she shook herself, sending water-droplets flying towards the walls, and even some outside to the main office, to the accompaniment of angry muttering and vigorous mopping from Zaebos. Kaiyu sighed and left the bucket on the floor, noting how bending no longer caused her as much pain as it did a mere hour ago. The crack in her ribs seemed close to mended, which meant it was almost dawn.

As she walked out of the bath niche, Zaebos looked up at her a bit sourly. "You could have saved this last downpour, couldn't you? Oh, never mind."

He rested the mop against one of the few spaces along the wall not barred by stacks of paper, then sat in the only chair available in the room, and gave her a long, hard stare. "So. You had a little skirmish with Valac, am I understanding that correctly?"

Kaiyu crouched carefully down, trying to not jar her hurting foot, one hand resting on the floor for balance. She shivered, not out of cold, but due to the unpleasant sensation of her soaked fur touching her skin, her damp hair dripping down her back, and droplets running down all over her body. The cat was strong tonight. It always was, when she felt in danger. She remained silent, watching the old demon, weighing her options. Zaebos returned her steady gaze, red eyes meeting yellow ones, unflinching and unperturbed. Finally he sighed and threw up his hands, claws dulled with age and mopping.

"Look, kitten, you came here to talk to me, right? Now, I do not think it is for my magnificent wit and the comfort of the Pits. We both know you are here for advice. And if I am guessing correctly, and it ain't a hard guess, your coming to me as well as the skirmish with the bird has something to do with your task. And if it is so, your game has gotten much more complicated, or else birdie has gotten awfully out of his depths, and is about to get a new permanent address in one of my vacant cells. So which is it? Am I to clean up another cell, and prepare chains?" He paused for a second, then tilted his head "Or is she playing too?"

Kaiyu narrowed her eyes, studying the older demon carefully. "What makes you think it is her?"

Zaebos smirked "It is, isn't it? Oh, Valac has ever been her creature; she picked him while he was a fledgling. He had this penchant for recklessness and cruelty that is so like her. I dare say that without her protection he would not have made it to the Dedication, and even if he had, would have landed himself in the hands of old Zaebos soon enough. But she has her sway, and she has her pets. He is a foremost one."

Kaiyu nodded. That explained a lot of things, not the least of it the squashed rumours, and his overconfidence. And, of course, she held other sway on her minions as well, Kaiyu was sure of it. As if reading her mind, Zaebos continued.

"She has them totally under control, those she has chosen, have no doubt. Oh, I dare say no one can seduce the mind like a succubus, and she is the first of them for a reason. It is not only her protection they crave, but her approval too. Mayhap more." he smiled "After all...she managed to seduce the first of the Children into betrayal and the fall from Heaven."

Kaiyu frowned. "She wants me too..."

Zaebos raised an eyebrow, studying Kaiyu's features for a while, then said. "And have you come to ask me whether you should go to her side in this bid for influence? Or is there somewhat more to your visit?"

Whatever the reasoning of Lucifer's fall, he had fallen, and when he had found himself at the bottom, he had created an army that could serve him there. Discipline and obedience to the authority of their superiors was trained into every single demon, painfully and strictly, but it was something else entirely where nature was concerned. They carried the aspects of their animal ancestors, primal nature than no training could break. Kaiyu's veins had the blood of wild cat mixed in them. For good or evil, cats were solitary animals, not given to cooperation or subordination.

And both nature and surroundings made sure of another lack in demonic nature. The lack of trust. They were a backstabbing lot of survivors, all of them, for it took cunning and ruthlessness to climb the ranks of demonic power, or even just to survive. And Zaebos had survived for far too long. He was not a fool, and he was not beyond using others as means to an end, Kaiyu was sure. She did not trust him, with every second of eighty years of hellish intrigue and backstabbing, she did not trust him. Yet, she knew when it was time for nature and training to bend. Kaiyu started talking.

Zaebos listened in silence, mercifully not interrupting with questions or comments. The expression of his human face was calm and unreadable, but his crocodile head ground its jaws at times, and a low hiss escaped its teeth. Kaiyu omitted some details, like the content of the second letter, leaving Zaebos to believe the angel had merely led her to a bunch of his bloody feathers, just as she had done with Valac. She also did not mention the Kefara blade or the precise nature of her task, and Zaebos did not ask. Meeting the eyes of the old demon, however, she had the distinct impression he did not need to ask.

Finally, as she finished her retelling and silence fell between them, Zaebos shifted in his chair, and his crocodile head snapped its jaws and growled.

"So, to summarise, you are in the centre of a veritable shitstorm, and with no good way out?"

Kaiyu's lips twitched in the ghost of a smirk. Zaebos did not mince words. People, on several occasions. But never words. She nodded.

"Do you care who gets their claws on your feathery friend?"

She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "Why would I?"

Zaebos shrugged, a feat that looked very peculiar with two necks, and two heads bobbing with the motion.

"I don't know." He gave her a shrewd look

"No," Kaiyu said

"Very well then. Only thing to consider when choosing a side is your own continued wellbeing and survival." He paused, tapping a gnarled, clawed finger on his lips, then sighed. "And I cannot give you a simple answer. If you would ask me who would win this contest of strength and influence, I would say she would. She is older, more influential, and frankly, smarter. But... she is also wholly without scruples. If to get what she wants she has to throw away Valac or you in the bargain, I wouldn't give a rat's flea for your survival chances. And if she thinks covering her trail is needful, she will gut you herself. You would not be the first."

Kaiyu blinked, genuine shock briefly written on her features. "The prohibition..."

Zaebos flashed her a mirthless grin. "The prohibition, yes. Well, nothing was ever proven, you know. And no one ever investigated, actually. Demons die. You know very well that few hunters live beyond three-hundred. Who, you think, would notice one more missing?"

Kaiyu sat very still, very silent, for a while. Zaebos watched her, and a look of genuine compassion, so unfitting on his harsh features, graced them nevertheless. "I am sorry, girl. I know you believed the laws to be absolute. We all did, once. But then you realise they are only as absolute as you are without influence. Such as Eve, or Caim...they will not be touched, no matter what. Unless they kill an angel."

Kaiyu focused her gaze on him, slow and thoughtful. "And if they do?"

Zaebos's eyebrows rose. "War."

The Raven

Kaiyu turned the last sheet of slightly moist paper and placed it on top of the other, already read ones. Water had condensed into small, beady droplets on the sheets, and was slowly sinking in the thick paper, making the words weep watery red tears.

Kaiyu stared at the small pile of sheets on the thick branch next to her, eyes betraying no emotion or reaction. Finally she reached out and gathered them in a clawed hand, moving to rip the sheets apart.

She didn't even have time to perceive the danger before her body reacted to it. She rolled off the branch as three small black daggers sank into the trunk where her head had been, then dropped through the air, twisting. Her hand shot down and with a deft motion tucked the letter between the scabbard belt and her thigh, crumpling them. Whatever happened, they must not get into the hands of her attacker. Her plummet had taken less than a second, but when she hit the ground the papers were stashed safely away, and her hands free. She rolled again. Something whooshed through the air and landed in the bushes behind her with a metallic clang. As soon as she completed her roll and was back on her feet, the demoness sprang.

As she flew through the air, her eyes registered details of the dark figure rushing to meet her in midair. Yellow eyes, black feathers surrounding them; a beak traversing the face where a nose would have been, sharp and pointed, ending above a gaping, growling mouth of sharp teeth; razor-sharp talons flashing at her from wing-like arms, ending in deformed hands. He flapped his arms and veered to avoid her and strike at her side a second before impact, but Kaiyu was ready. She twisted her own body out of the way of the talons, and, as the winged arm passed by her, sunk her claw in it, as deeply as she could, and ripped.

The attacker took a sharp, pained breath as they both tumbled to the ground in a heap of suppressed growls and hissing blood. Kaiyu hung on his arm, claws buried in his flesh. She shoved them deeper again and pushed upward now, against the momentum of their twisting, writhing bodies, using his motion to cause more damage, shredding tendons and muscle. But the demon was too strong. She felt a rake along her side, and sharp, burning pain seared her muscles and ribs as the talons cut and scraped them. Kaiyu let go of his arm, feeling fresh blood seep and soak through her fur. The wound was bad, but not as bad as his. She could take the pain, and the wound was not severe enough to impact her mobility. His left wingarm was ruined, however. She had the advantage now.

Kaiyu leapt back, aiming to retreat out of his reach before her attacker realised it, but he was too good. His intact arm shot out, talons piercing her foot, and she hit the ground, the back of her head screaming a thump through her brain as it met the packed earth.

Immediately he was upon her, bleeding profusely from one useless arm, but the other talon locked around her throat. She felt the grip tighten, felt the sharpness of his claws cut through the upper layer of skin...and stop. Kaiyu's small, vicious smirk met his surprised eyes.

"Enough?"

Males, even if demons, had one spot, a danger to which they could not ignore.

"Enough," he nodded, and loosened the grip around Kaiyu's throat. He did not fully release her until she let her claws slide back into her fingers and away from his vulnerable regions, however.

They both got to their feet and moved a few steps away, crouching in the grass, surveying one another warily through slitted yellow eyes. Kaiyu moved one hand to her raked side, and pressed the flesh together, trying to speed up the mend and making sure the flesh heal up properly. The bleeding, profuse a few minutes ago, was down to a trickle now.

There was no point in stitches and bandages with demons: things healed too fast for any form of conventional medicine. While that did mean demons could take a lot of beating in stride, a collateral of this incredibly swift mending was that the immortals had to be extremely careful with how injuries healed, especially serious ones. After having to re-break a badly mended bone a few times, each young demon made sure to develop a profound understanding of one-handed first aid, and preferably the ability to apply it on the run or without visual cues too.

Her injuries were not very serious. Her ribs had taken the brunt of his claws, at least one of them was cracked, and her skin was in shreds where he had raked it, but there was little muscle damage. Her foot had one tendon severed, and one toe was broken. She snapped the digit to the right position with a grimace and sighed. There would be no further tracking of the angel tonight, not unless she wanted to limp from roof to roof. The bone would probably not mend fully until dawn.

While she took inventory of her state and treated her injuries, her eyes never left her attacker, who was doing the same. His left wing looked much worse for wear, the skin and tendons hanging in bloody ribbons at places, and much of the feathering lost or hanging from the tatters of flesh. The demon, however, seemed unperturbed as his intact hand moved quickly to press pieces together, only the occasional frown betraying the burning pain he must feel. Kaiyu noticed with surprise that he was picking up shed feathers from the ground and deftly sharpening them. He then used the needle-sharp feathers to stick pieces of flesh together. It made for a grotesque view, his tattered, bleeding wing pierced by mottled, bloody feathers in all the wrong directions. But, looking as the two of them did, one could hardly be much bothered by looking grotesque.

The other demon clucked his tongue, a very birdlike sound even if made by a humanoid mouth. His head was turned towards his injured left wing, his hand never stopped moving, yet one of his eyes watched Kaiyu, hawk-like.

"Kaiyu," he said.

His voice had a peculiar quality to it, a drag not easy on the ear, as if the sounds were formed by lips not ideally suited to the task, but which developed the art through lots of practice. The voice also had a nasal, resounding quality to it, perhaps caused by the peculiar construction of the beak he had instead of a nose.

"Valac."

His hand paused in the deft repair of his wing, examining the results, then dropped. His smirk flashed, brief and edged. "I guess I should not have underestimated you. Your youth lies, Cat. But you have always shown promise."

Kaiyu inclined her head slightly. The Raven was an old hunter, at least by normal standards, counting more than two centuries of active duty. He had been, decades ago, one of her instructors, for a brief time.

"No hard feelings, eh, Cat?" again the unnerving smirk

Kaiyu narrowed her eyes as she examined the older demon, stretching the silence. She had an uncomfortable feeling as he met her gaze, his birdlike features unchanging. It was in her nature, in one part of what made her being, to play the game of cat-and-mouse. What she was not so used to was being eyed as the mouse.

"That depends,” she allowed finally. “Attacking another demon on active duty might get you in a lot of trouble, and you know that. So I expect you have a good explanation why I should not report this...fracas?"

"Oh, but you will not report it. Because while your duty is active, it is not official." He paused for a second, to savour her surprise, no doubt. She disappointed him by not being forthcoming with it. "And I had to test my opponent, after all. Or maybe, my partner."

Kaiyu shrugged "I have no idea what you are talking about..."

She was beginning to develop a disconcertingly good idea, however. Kaiyu rapidly considered and rejected possible escape routes.

Valac smiled. "Ah. Of course. You were led to believe such a renegade as this could really be kept secret. Naive." He paused, seeming to consider, then waved with his good hand. "But enough promise, enough promise. So what say you? Care to show me whatever you have of his there? I can smell his blood, you know."

Kaiyu kept watching him without replying or flinching. That Valac knew the smell of angel blood was surprising, and extremely inconvenient. Doubly so since he seemed to have the upper hand, knowing more of her task than she could guess and certainly more than was good for both of them. His statements were deliberately vague; was he trying to make her slip? And his proposal made no sense. Partner? Demons never partnered and that was doubly true for Hunters. It was a solitary job, one whose only reward was the pride of accomplishment, and it was not a reward to be shared. Of course, in the case of Valac, there were rumours….

Her eyes briefly flickered to his dagger-belt, which still had many of the small, poisonous black darts that he favoured, that he was known for. Not capable of killing his targets unless by an unlucky blow, and certainly not one of their own kind, the small venom-coated blades would still cause muscle spasms and inconceivable pain to their victims, mortal or immortal. Common knowledge had it that this was the reason Valac chose those over more conventional weapons of their craft and that this was not the limit of his unconventionality. None of those rumours had ever been substantiated, of course, or he would not be on the streets now.

Whatever the case, while his daggers were an unpleasant weapon, they were not what Kaiyu was looking for; and what she was searching for, he conspicuously lacked: He carried no Kefara blade. His mission, then, was not to kill.

As if reading her thoughts, Valac nodded towards the Kefara sword at her hip, crumpled sheets peeking behind it.

“You are tasked to kill him. I suspected as much.” He flashed another cold smirk “You have never been good with weapons, Kaiyu. You carry this one as if you are afraid of it. Which, by all means, you ought to be.”

She turned slightly to hide the scabbard from his gaze, but he had seen more already.

"A letter? Is this it? He left you a letter in blood?” The burst of laughter, surprising and sharp, made her tense.

“No.” Kaiyu said.

She knew the lie was pointless, but she was stalling for time. He had known she had a thing of the angel’s about her person, a bloody thing, but not until focusing on the Kefara blade, had he suspected what. Her eyes quickly lit on an object next to her, something that had slipped out of her grasp in the fight, but was still close. She plucked the thin bunch of slightly bloody feathers from where it had fallen, and tossed it to Valac. The older demon caught the bundle and turned it in his hand, then looked up at her without comprehension. Kaiyu shrugged.

"He leaves me signposts.”

“And why would he do that?” Valac looked back down at the feathers, and Kaiyu indulged in a brief smirk. The smell of the much nearer bloody feathers in his hand, strong and cloying, overwhelmed his senses and masked the other smell, the one still on her.

“You are asking me to find logic in the actions of an angel? The height is getting to their heads, I am sure."

Valac studied her for a long while in silence, then shook his head, and tucked the feathers in his belt.

“You are not telling me all, Cat.”

“I am telling you too much, considering that you attacked me, and hampered my hunt, Valac. Far too much, in fact, since this quarry is none of your business.”

Valac stretched up slowly to an upright position, facing her fully now, looking down at his still crouching ex-pupil.

"Oh, but he is my business, Kaiyu."

"What interest is he to you?"

"Me? None. There are more players with a stake in this game than you know, Cat. He is of interest to her."

Her. The inflection left no doubt who he meant. Kaiyu's hackles rose.

"What does she want with him, then?"

Valac shrugged, the thoughtless move causing a grimace of pain cross his face. "Wrong question. We are tools, Kaiyu. Sharp ones, perhaps; dangerous, maybe. But only tools nonetheless. You do not ask, lest you get answers." He smirked. "I suggest you adopt this creed, if you want to be anything but a young demon. That, and pick the right side in this one."

He took a step towards her, causing her muscles to tense in readiness. But he just inclined his head.

"Whatever the agenda is of the one who set you on the trail, he will lose. And you don't want to come crashing down with some petty Hunter Lord, Kaiyu. Consider it."

“I will.”

Valac turned his back on her then, and her fingers twitched over the pommel of the Kefara sword. He paused for a second, as if realising the danger, but did not turn. No, she would not spill the lifeblood of another immortal, especially not without a charge. They both knew that. She rested her hand on the hilt, but did not draw the blade. Valac started to walk away.

"When you are ready to share, I will be right there, behind you. Or in front of you. Be quick with your decision, Cat. I will not dally. She is not a patient one."

Kaiyu did not respond, just watched him as he disappeared among the trees in the park. She then turned her gaze to the statue and the tableau of blood, feathers and torn grass surrounding it. She had to clean this up. As her body, limping with the pain of her injuries, set about the well-rehearsed motions of covering her trail, a few certainties played in her mind. One, there was no such thing as generosity without agenda among the Damned. Two, the forces were much more equally matched than Valac knew. And three, the two of them were caught right in between.


Read next chapter at Chapter IX: The Pits

The Betrayal

My dear demon,

It may seem a peculiar kind of fancy for a prey to leave messages to his hunter, and indeed I acknowledge it is. But I know you will read it, for you are what you are, and you will not refuse wilfully given information about your quarry. It is perhaps true that it will be this letter, or perhaps another, future one, that will lead to my demise. But it is a chance I am willing to take, for frankly, we both know I will not run long now anyway.

Perhaps you are wondering why I am running at all if there is no hope. It merely prolongs the agony of fear, despair and self-pity: Of that you are right, but as the protagonist of the first story I am going to tell you learned for himself, life is not easy to let go of.

But forgive me: I am getting ahead of myself. Have you ever heard of Scheherazade, the Persian queen who artfully saved her life by telling a cruel man one thousand and one tales? I am no Scheherazade, and no queen, and at any rate she did not exist. I am no great storyteller, no wordsmith or a cunning woman. And my hope in enchanting your frozen heart enough for you to feel love for me is impossible, I do know that. My life will not be spared because of my tales. But nevertheless, tales are what I am going to tell you: tales of truth, if you will believe them. If not my life, then perhaps I will gain the small comfort of a measure of pity in your eyes when you finally catch up with me. But because I know this is all I can hope for, I will not, like Scheherazade, break off stories in the middle to continue them another time; there might be no other time.

With those needed explanations and without further ado, I will launch myself into the telling of my first tale, the one of the fall of Lucifer.

Oh, it is a tale familiar enough to you and yours, I am sure, just as it is much known in Heaven. But has it never struck you, my dear demon hunter, that the stories we know, and the stories the humans have turned into myths, differ so widely? Our charges believe that Lucifer was an Archangel who contrived to make his throne higher than the clouds over the earth and resemble the highest of powers, and for this great crime he, and the host of angels loyal to him, were cast down into the abyss. We, on the other hand, know that there was no dramatic casting down, no exit worthy of myths. That the archangels among themselves merely decided who takes which role, and Lucifer, being one of the mightiest, assumed the difficult task of leading the other side. Yet, if that were true, then why is there so much bitterness between our two sides, and what led to the Great War that almost shattered this world? Why would a simple agreement like the one we believe to have happened lead to such devastating anger and hate?

Because it is a lie, that is why. Both versions contain but a grain of the truth, yet in effect, they are a lie. Time twisted and convoluted a rather simpler story, and turned it into myths that all the sides could handle-the myth of the fall for humanity, and the myth of friendship gone wrong for us. But what happened in fact...

It all begins with the Valkyries, at the time when they still comprised the better part of the angel legions. It is now often attempted to deny their sibling connection to what today we perceive as the seraphim, and I have heard it claimed that they never were proper angels, since all angels are male. But why would all angels be male, when demons, your kind, are both sexes? Is the male gender in some way holier, or more supernatural, or stronger than the female one? Indeed, the famed prowess and devotion of the Valkyries proves this assumption to be false. No, the reason why angels nowadays are only of one kind is to be found within two actions we consider all too human: love and betrayal.

The Valkyries are and always were fierce warriors and defenders. Often they were called shield maidens, for this is what they were in Heaven: the shield and sword that defended it and the world. Their battle prowess was legendary, their loyalty and fighting spirit unshakeable, their decisiveness in the face of evil undoubted. Additionally, they possessed something much more fearsome and feminine that turned them from merely useful, to extremely dangerous-a cunning of action in the fray and an unrelenting fierceness. None of this would have been a problem in and of itself, however, had it not been for the fact that, despite the pretence of equality among all the heavenly host, only one Valkyrie had ever been granted the rank of Archangel. Humanity cannot claim any authorship in the idea of gender inequality, I fear, for it originated in Heaven even before humanity was born. Valkyries were all too aware of the slight, and while they did tolerate it, they also were fiercely loyal to the one in their ranks who represented them: Archangel Brynhildr, the Light of Battle. Oh, of course the Valkyries had other commanders, and in theory they answered to all Archangels, but only a Valkyrie could really command the respect and love of the Valkyries. All the power of the shield maidens resided in the hands of Brynhildr.

You can imagine, I gather, how much this situation was to the liking of the Archangels. They were much more numerous in the Echelon of Heavenly Power, overwhelmingly numerous, in fact, but the one female that had sneaked amongst them held all but a tiny sliver of the military power.

And much like humans, when angels feel threatened they defend themselves in any way they find, including such that are overwhelmingly unwise and destructive. You could say that they should have merely raised more Valkyries to the rank of Archangel, merely ensured that both the slight to their pride, and the concentration of their loyalty, is done away with. But such a solution was even more distasteful to the archangels than the idea of Brynhildr holding all the power, I fear. They begrudged her presence among them, and the option of allowing even more Valkyries in the highest of ranks was not one to be considered. No, the archangels only saw one way to defend themselves from the perceived danger of Brynhildr and her Legions. Unbeknownst to their sisters, a plan was hatched, a plan so ugly and monstrous, that it is nowadays a taboo to even be remembered: an elimination plan.

It is surmised, as much as the topic is ever mentioned, in whispers and in secret, that there were a few who suggested that perhaps just eliminating Brynhildr would be enough. Do not doubt, however, that even they had no higher motives for this proposed mercy, than the mere possession of weak hearts and stomachs that turned at the idea of carnage on such scale at their doors. Nevertheless, had they been the majority, perhaps some of the consequences could have been avoided, but that was not to be. Most had no doubt the destruction of Valkyrie leader would hatch nothing but the desire for revenge in the hearts of those so loyal to her. And I would venture the guess that they were not far off the mark. Nevertheless, the archangels were not above using the death of their leader to demoralise their sisters-in-arms and soon-to-be enemies, for they needed every advantage they could gain, and seemed to have no qualms seizing each. The plan was, therefore, to assassinate Brynhildr at the offset of the attack, to seed disorganisation and confusion in the ranks of the Valkyries.

And I believe the plan would have worked perfectly, much like the destruction of the Knights Templar did, eons later (another despicable idea which had its origins with the highest and holiest among us), had the archangels not been too sure of themselves to notice the hesitation of one of the most powerful in their ranks. It is true, I believe, that Brynhildr and Lucifer were lovers, as it was later speculated, for what other reason did they have to keep their close friendship a secret? And there is little doubt, from what ensued and how things turned out, that indeed the closest friendship had connected those two inexorably. It was this loyalty to what his brothers perceived as a danger, which divided his mind and made him restless for weeks as the fateful moment approached. Lucifer, the Betrayer, had to choose which of his friends to betray. But in the end, in all but the last possible moment, he chose.

When the Archangels and the other seraphim came to their sudden attack, they found the Valkyries ready for battle. It is a testament to the shield maidens' discipline and training that with very little warning they mounted a defence so impressive and deadly. Betrayed, infuriated, they gave their all in this fight against their own brothers, in this first ever civil war. The assassination attempt on Brynhildr had failed, naturally, and she was in the forefront of the battle, dealing death with the three-pronged spear and shield that were the Valkyries' signature weapon. Many fell under her wrath, and she was terrible and beautiful to behold this last night of her life. Yes, last, for before the night of the betrayal, the night that used to be known in the annals as The First War before it was forgotten, was out, Brynhildr fell to one of the many Kefara blades aimed at her heart. The archangels, in their persistent conceit, thought this to be the only possible outcome of the battle, thought that Brynhildr's death would end the bloodshed. But instead, as Brynhildr fell among blood and fire, as her shriek pierced the hearts of those who loved her and those who followed her, another leader arose, a leader with the fire of anger in his heart.

It was Lucifer who led the Valkyries to victory. It was he who took the spear from the bloodied corpse of his beloved, and he who, in blind rage, slew friend and foe without discernment. This terrible night Heaven lost many angels and Valkyries to death, but the most terrible loss, the one that would mark our future forever, was the loss of Lucifer. He fell to no blade, took no wound and no bruise, but he was lost nevertheless: to pain, to love, and guilt. When the battle itself was won, it was the Valkyries who had to restrain him, and he wounded some before they could. His anger had not spent itself, would never again spend itself, and he wanted what he named justice, but was in fact revenge. Both were denied to him, however, for no one had seen who had wielded the blade that had sapped the life of Brynhildr, and even angry as they are, the Valkyries would not put all angels to the sword. They had seen enough blood, death, and betrayal for one night.

A peace treaty, the first peace treaty ever, was drawn up. The Valkyries would leave Heaven and seek a path of their own. They severed all ties to their former home and would never again use the title of an angel. As a symbolic gesture of their "fall," the Valkyries one by one severed their wings with the sword that had slain their leader, and of them they built a path of blood and feathers to the Gates of Heaven. Those who saw the crimson, mangled wings on the ground, who saw the tall, beautiful warriors tread on them with contempt and anger as they followed Eir, Brynhildr's lieutenant, out of the Gates, had no doubt that all ties between the Valkyries and the Angels were severed that night, that any hope of reconciliation and peace died with the last breath of Brynhildr. And although ages have passed, I suspect even today the Valkyries are not done with Heaven, and with the great wrong that had been done to them. The role they played later on, in the Great War and the creation of the treaties, proves if nothing else that they are working on their own agenda and I have little doubt this agenda still has something to do with Brynhildr and the hundreds of Valkyries who died during those terrible few hours, ages ago. Immortals do not forgive and do not forget.

The angels, on the other hand, were left with no choice but to turn back to their defiled home and attempt to rebuild it. The coming of the Children (the humans) was soon approaching and the shepherds had to be ready to take care of them. Whether they harboured guilt and regret at the atrocities they had committed, I do not know, but I can only hope they did and still do.

As for Lucifer, he took no part in any of those proceedings. Grief and pain consumed him, and guilt tore his soul to pieces. Only Eir's attempt to part him with Brynhildr's bloody spear stirred him into any action, and this was a fury terrible to behold. His rage was without direction, he wanted no friends and compassion, and revenge was denied to him. He turned away from brother and sister alike, and only those closest and most fiercely loyal to him remained by his side, both Valkyries and angels. The main host of the Valkyries left without asking him to come with them, but they made it clear that would he or any of those that remained by him be hurt, they would come back to Heaven and this time they would not leave until all angels or all Valkyries were dead. The angels, however, could not have him and Brynhildr's spear among them, for they knew all too well that he would never again be one of them, never again trust them or be trusted.

It was Azrael who finally found the solution, not in death as one would expect of him, but in Hell. The division of responsibilities as it is today was not initially planned, but dividing the caretakers of the Children into shepherds and wolves sounded like a good plan: the angels to steer and nurture the flock and the demons to cull them and suppress them when necessary. Again, in their conceit, the Archangels believed that it would be enough to remove Lucifer from their ranks, to give him a small prize to keep him occupied, and they would be safe from him forever. They did not understand the powers they had unleashed upon his soul this very night, or the might they were putting into his hands. And it would take ages for them to begin to comprehend, and until the Great War and the Flood for the message to finally sink in. Immortals do not forgive. Immortals do not forget.

And yet, I ask you, my demon... who fell that night? Was it the Valkyries, who were betrayed and who shed their wings and their holiness for the life of mercenaries and perhaps revenge? Was it Lucifer, who chose to attempt to save the one he loved and his sisters-in-arms from a cruel betrayal, and instead lost all he knew? Or was it the angels, who bloodied their swords and spears on their own kin, and who destroyed more than just unity that night?

Stories are never simple, my demon. And maybe this one is not even true, for why should you believe me? This I leave to you to decide, my judge, my jury, my executioner.

Ezariel The Fallen

Read next chapter at Chapter VIII: The Raven

The Statue

The storm had let up during the day, and the clouds, tired of pouring their loads over so bleak a landscape as this city, had moved on to bigger and better things. As dusk fell and the stars started blinking back into existence, Kaiyu surveyed the landscape from the roof of the library. That is where her chase had ended the previous night, so that is where it would pick up.

She stood there for a long time, motionless as a statue, observing the old, gothic buildings and the people far below, moving like ants to and fro, and like ants unaware of the bigger picture without them. Powers surrounded them that defined their lives, yet several decades of mingling with the pinnacle of human nightlife had taught her to have no respect for their insight, or potential for perception. They were herded, culled and ruled by powers they did not even begin to comprehend, yet every night they mugged, raped, murdered, and plotted against their own with a vigour which had always amazed her. Sometimes she wondered why demons were needed to give this pretense of justice to human existence, when being a human in itself seemed to be the worst kind of punishment. Demons were a backstabbing bunch by design and necessity. Humans made the choice, every day, with glee.

Kaiyu shook her head, the first motion in a long time of utter stillness. The pigeon that had been resting on her shoulder for the last fifteen minutes, took startled flight at the statue suddenly coming to life. She followed its dash through the sky with something like a spark of amusement in her eyes. As part of her training, she had spent three months standing absolutely still on a roof like that. She was glad to see she could fool a pigeon, at least.

She unfolded sinuously and rolled her shoulders. Her fingers instinctively brushed the stiff leather scabbard at her thigh, and she frowned. She had a task to do, and no time to reminisce over the numerous faults of humanity. Indeed, she ought to not care at all: her present charge was no human, and to her kind that was all humans were--charges and prey. She had better prey now.

She closed her eyes and opened her senses. It was a hard mode of tracking; one they knew but never used, for it was overwhelming and unnecessary. When your charge was nothing but a glorified monkey that stumbled through life leaving smells and traces plain for anyone to follow; when they had friends, relatives, accomplices, tracking them was really the work of a minute. Hell, even human police sometimes managed it. But for an angel...she would have to use the full extent of her powers.

The cacophony of human life flooded her like a tide, full of noise and devoid of consequence. Cars roared like hungry beasts; babies keened like dying birds; angry voices clamoured for attention; electricity and water hummed in the walls of buildings like the pulse of a failing heart. She heard a shot, a lover's kiss, a betrayal. She smelled fear, anger, lust, deception. She touched minds and quickly withdrew, for none of them was what she was looking for. One by one, she excluded the hearts, the cars, the voices and all other noises that did not interest her. One by one she removed all the petty, greed-filled presences, for all human minds were petty and greed-filled. She discarded also the focused vortexes of thought of those of her kind, never stupid enough to come close to touching them. No demon would forgive such an intrusion.

Seconds turned into minutes, and many ticked by, until, in the end, only one noise was left. One heart was beating. One smell filled her nostrils, complicated and sweet. One mind, warm, glowing, unlike anything human or demonic.

Kaiyu broke into a run. Even on a clear, starlit night like this, she was merely a shadow, a reflection, a sensation of movement too brief to be noticed. She flew over fences, fell from roofs, climbed up walls, sprinted down alleys and startled stray dogs and cats who never knew what had passed them, but whined and ran away nonetheless, for it had the scent of a predator. Smell was another useful tool in her overflowing arsenal. To her own kind she had no odour but that of night and rain, but to her prey she smelled of danger, of death, of primal horror. And while no two people would agree how those things smelled, they knew when she was near. They felt their spines crawl, their palms sweat, and their hearts race. This scent that was not a scent, told every being with warm blood in their veins to flee and never look back. Men turned up their collars and walked faster when she flew over a roof nearby, women skidded and took a different turn than planned when she was in an alley. No one wanted to be near a hunting demon. It was a wisdom passed to them by their banana-eating cousins.

And as suddenly as she had begun to move, Kaiyu froze. She was on a low rooftop overlooking an alley, just next to the central park. The glow of the angel's presence had abruptly disappeared, but something else had replaced it. She slowly turned her head slightly to the side, and her long, thin tongue flicked out to taste the air. Blood. Angel blood and quite fresh. It did not taste of fear, or pain. It tasted of...determination? Mixed with it was the acrid taste of rust and soil.

Kaiyu dropped off the roof soundlessly and walked towards the park. Her movements were swift, faster than a jogging human although to her that was merely slow, leisurely walking pace. She knew he had eluded her again, for now. She would not find him in the park, but there was something there, something he had led her to. He had managed to mask his presence in the Weave once she was close enough to where he wanted her to be. She could take it for a lucky coincidence, and maybe he was hoping she would, but she had already underestimated him for far too long. She would have to talk to Zaebos again. He was old, and probably had run into plenty of angels in the field in his time.

The bundle of bloody feathers was tied to the base of a rusty old statue of a woman holding a child's hand, a little way into the park. The grass was still wet there, small diamonds glittering on every leaf in the starlight, and a huge birch stood a faithful guardian to what must have been the embodiment of some imagined human virtue or other. The night smelled of freshness, of life and new beginning. At least, that is what it would have smelled of to a human nose. To Kaiyu, all was drowned out by the sweet and burning smell of the blood of her prey.

She crouched down and lifted the feathers to reveal the neatly folded piece of paper underneath. Picking it up, she realised, a bit taken aback, that it was, in fact, several sheets of paper, filled with the flowing, calligraphic writing of the angel, Ezariel. A letter? She frowned at the inoffensive paper. The message was intended for her, she had no doubt, but what could he hope to achieve with this? Would he plead for mercy with his hunter, his killer? Kaiyu snorted in disgust at the thought, and was about to tear the sheets apart, but then checked herself. Her frustration with being led on and fooled once more, her confusion at the angel’s illogical acts, was getting the better of her. Whatever the contents of the letter were, she would learn more about her quarry from it, and that was all that mattered. If he was foolish enough to leave her messages, so much the better. Already, because of his liberal spilling of blood, she could taste him and track him from miles away. A hunter took every advantage. And she was a hunter.

Kaiyu leapt up, feathers and letter still in hand, and landed lightly in the lower branches of the birch. She sniffed the air for any immediate dangers in her surroundings then, sensing none, sat down. The branches of the old tree hid her from any casual glances, and while they blocked out the light too, she needed no light to see these letters. She unfolded the sheets and the pale red strokes glowed at her, clearer and brighter than the stars. Kaiyu began to read.

Read next chapter at Chapter VII: The Betrayal