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."

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

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 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

It’s basically a blog-content gift exchange (and it really needs a catchier title), and here’s how it works. If you’d like to play, leave me a comment and in return I’ll give you a subject, or ask you a question … and then you go away and blog about it. It doesn’t have to be a whole blog post, this is meant to be low pressure gift-exchange, but, you know, a comment or a paragraph, or a corner of a post (or a full post, if you want to really indulge me, or feel inspired). And if I suggest something crap or boring in which you have no interest, you can look at it as the equivalent of a pair of novelty socks, say “thank you very much, Tam” and throw it away entirely, and I’ll pretend not to notice and make a mental note not to get you novelty socks next year.

And then, if you feel like it, you can throw it open on your own blog, inviting people to comment if they’re will to blog on a subject of your choosing (and I promise I’ll come and do the same, thus offering blogging gifts of my own, instead of just demanding blog gifts frome verybody else) … and thus the blog-content gift exchange programme will spread … like a disease … the nice sort of disease … kind of like syphilis in the 17th century, when it was viewed as evidence you had Done Sex Properly. I think I just failed singularly to sell this plan.

I personally caught my embarrassing problem from the wonderful Tami (yeah, I am lucky like that), and she asked me to confess what I learned from this year's NaNoWriMo. Well, could have been worse. *grins* 

To be honest, I learned so many thing in this one month I can probably blog for an year just on this topic. But will try to share a short version, my top lessons from the one month of writing extravaganza and torture.

1) Write! Simple as that. You might think it is crappy, you might think no one will ever want to read it, you might think that you are murdering every syllable in a particularly cruel fashion by committing it to your page. It doesn't matter. Keep writing.

While this sounds like something very particular to NaNoWriMo, it is, in fact, not. Take the last chapter of Feather Path. When I wrote it, I hated every word. Felt forced, felt false, felt weak, and I almost scrapped it oh so many times. But I finished it instead. And then a week later, when my nausea at the thought of it had faded, I came back and edited it, and some people told me this was my best writing to date. Get it on the page, you can fix it later!

2) Kill your spell- and grammar-checker. Apart from the red squiggles being the most distractive and muse-destructive thing ever, maybe it is time to learn spelling without its help? *wink* Writers should be able to spell!

As for the grammar-checker, don't know about other ones, but the Word one is simply bad. Fragments can be okay sentences, damn you! *rages*

3) Build anticipation. Tell everyone you can that you are writing a novel. Tell them just a bit about it, enough to whet their appetite. Ask them to be your test readers. Make them want to be your test readers, poke you to ask about your progress, be excited. Once you do that, you cannot give up - too many people will be disappointed! Make it hard on yourself to be a slacker. *wink*

4) Have a daily/weekly goal and outdo it. Not have a goal and keep it. Outdo it. It is a great feeling to be ahead of your game, to do more than expected, to be more productive and creative than necessary. Funnily enough, the more you out-do yourself, the more you will out-do yourself. Because the feeling of success is a great writing aphrodisiac.

5) Take a notepad and pen everywhere. I wish ingenious ideas were so accommodating as to come to me just when I am sitting at the computer with a Hiro-like expression of insane concentration, and trying to conjure magic with words. Alas, it doesn't quite work like that. Most of the breakthroughs in my NaNoWriMo novel happened when I was taking a break from writing, whether to take a shower, shop, or *gasp* see some friends. And memory is an unreliable thing, believe me. So carry some handy note taking equipment with you.

On this note, dear Santa, I want water-resistant paper and pen for Christmas, please. Thanks, yours truly, Writer.

6) Writing buddies are priceless. I don't think I would really have made it without all the support, fun chatter and sprinting madness in the Saucy Wenches channel. It was great, and I am sad it is over.

Love you Bre, Kestrel, Krizz and Anna.

7) This is just the beginning. So you have a complete first draft? Congratulations! Open a bottle of champagne, dance a jig, spill the champagne in the process, be silly, be giddy. You did it!

Done yet? Great. Now, sit down and start making plans for rewriting this mess. *grins*

Truth is, your first draft sucks and so does mine. That is okay. That is their role. You have the bones of a story, beginning, middle and end, and this is what matters. But if you love your story and want it to ever go somewhere, you will have to commit to the long and arduous process of editing. I have not gone there with my beloved novel yet, we are "taking some time off" until New Year, and re-evaluating our commitment to one another. But my brain is already filing the pieces I need to rewrite.

First draft is called first for a reason. Be ready for it.

Offering a free BTD, any takers?

If you would like to take a part in the Christmas gift that keeps on giving craziness, leave a comment, and I am sure I will think of something embarrassing to ask you. *grins*

The door to Caim's office was of heavy black granite pierced by red veins that ran down its face like rivulets of blood. He flicked his hand negligently and the door slid away with a barely audible groan. The feat would have been much more impressive if Kaiyu could not sense the Stalker pushing the door. Using one of them as a doorkeeper was...interesting.

As she followed Caim inside, Kaiyu took in her surroundings. On the left wall was a mantelpiece of the same black and red granite, upon which a rough cutlass-like weapon lay ensconced on velvet in a case of black wood and glass. The sputtering blaze in the fireplace cast eerie red reflections on the glass, making it and the object enclosed look somehow evil and demonic in its very nature. Kaiyu's gaze paused on the rough blade—faded, dull and unremarkable, unless one knew what it represented. To assure perfect appreciation of the meaning of the ancient artefact and its owner, a gold-framed painting hung over the mantelpiece: A man who looked much like a human version of Caim wearing a mocking sneer, wielded a blade much like the one in the case, swinging it at the head of a younger, gentler-appearing man. The skies above them seemed to explode in fire and light as the blade committed the first of many sins to follow.

"A beautiful work of art, wouldn't you say? Quite accurate too."

Kaiyu looked towards her superior and shrugged. "I would not know, Highlord. Appreciation of art is not one of my abilities. But I do trust it is faithful to the actual events."

Caim nodded and gestured Kaiyu towards the back of the room. There, two heavy gilded armchairs were placed on opposite sides of a large, ornate, wooden desk, of the type that would be the prized object in a baroque art collection. One of the armchairs was a tall-backed, ornamental red and gold affair, whose arms were shaped like writhing snakes with horns, and whose legs looked like talons. The other, while very similar, had a slightly peculiar structure, with a back that broadened sharply from the base and then ended rather abruptly about halfway of the height of the back of the first armchair. A thick red cushion hugged the top part of this chair's back. Caim gestured Kaiyu towards the tall armchair and he himself took the peculiarly-shaped one. He settled his wings so that their base rested on the cushioned back of the armchair, before arching down towards the carpeted floor.

Kaiyu slid into the proffered armchair. Her right hand tingled distractingly. She flexed it and peered at the spot where her claw had ripped from her flesh. The angry welt of a wound had stopped bleeding already and the itching that accompanied the process of fast healing was starting to make itself known. She could do without it right now. Still, she supposed that for hunting this particular prey she would need her full set of claws.

"Are you all right? I see your hand got hurt." Caim steepled his fingers and looked at her over them with an almost genuine expression of concern.

Kaiyu looked up and met his probing gaze levelly. "I am fine, thank you. It is merely a claw, it will regrow until evenfall."

"Would you say your behaviour outside was strictly necessary? I am sorely tempted to say you might be overdue for time in the Pits."

"I am not in the habit of letting myself get caught..." Kaiyu shrugged. "... and those messengers looked in fact much like a hunting party. Only, lacking in skill."

"So you were ignoring my official summons..." he trailed off.

"What official summons?"

Caim nodded briefly "That is right. No official summons. Nothing of this talk will be, strictly speaking, official. As befits the nature of your task."

Kaiyu frowned. "This rather large sweep is attracting a lot of attention, however. How does this fit with the secrecy?"

Caim spread his hands and affected an air of genuine innocence. "The sweep. Oh, but my dear huntress, this sweep was not for you. We are looking for a missing object."

A furrow appeared between Kaiyu's brows as she studied Caim. "An object? If you weren’t looking for me, then how did you know I received your unofficial summons?" She could say he was enjoying this game. Perhaps it was all that was left to a High Hunter that approximated a hunt.

"Your conversation with Zaebos was rather interesting. I have always thought that old man was too nosy..."

He looked up at Kaiyu, expectantly. She looked back.

"Are you not going to plead for him? Tell me that he is still useful, that I would have to find someone to take care of the Pits if I were to have him punished? He did do you a favour, after all."

Kaiyu shrugged. "He took a risk. Sometimes they don't pay off." She paused. "Besides, you did use him. That makes him useful, to you. Perhaps even useful enough.”

Caim smiled coldly. "I can see what makes you the huntress you are. Do you have anything to report on your task?"

"I tracked my charge to the rooftop of the library. He had left a decoy there, some feathers and a letter written in blood. He avoided me tonight thanks to rain and poor visibility, but cannot run much longer."

"He has been avoiding you for more than two weeks now, is that not true?"

"Week and a half. Seems his senses and survival instincts are better than I expected from one of his kind. I underestimated him in the beginning, based on my previous experience with hunting human prey. I have learned from this mistake."

Caim nodded. "Common failing of our kind. Angels do have their gifts, and I have been given to understand that this Ezariel has spent a lot of time in the field. That makes him far more adept at survival and hiding, evidently. You should have been warned not to underestimate him."

Kaiyu merely nodded. She had her opinion of the leadership abilities of her direct superiors; indeed, of their ability to find their own backsides with a map. Considering those superiors, one way or another, had likely been promoted by Caim, however, she did not find it prudent to share snide remarks.

Caim studied her expression carefully. As purposefully blank as it was, he must have seen something in it, for he said, "Perhaps, should you perform to my satisfaction, I will make sure your orders never come from underlings again."

Kaiyu nodded. He waited for a few seconds, expecting her to offer some comment it seemed, but then continued.

"Your task is rather unique, as you know. This renegade angel has the potential to be a major disturbance in the order of things; he also has the potential to shatter the treaties.”

Caim continued, “You have a brilliant record of dealing with problematic cases. Of course not of this magnitude; but still, rather remarkable. So, you were chosen to deal with this one." He paused and looked at her intently.

Kaiyu merely nodded. She could sense he wanted her to thank him for the praise, but it had been no more than a statement of facts. Caim allowed himself a brief frown before continuing.

"The angel must be stopped."

He reached down and a scrape of wood on wood alerted Kaiyu to the opening of a drawer. She tensed, barely perceptibly, and her claws tingled with the urge to come out. She did not trust Caim. Of course, she did not trust any demon. Caim half smiled and winked at her.

"No fool, I see," and pulled out the short sword.

Kaiyu's gaze followed the sword as he laid it on the desk, traced the rivulets in the ancient short steel with her eyes, the shades of darkness and light, read the meaning. She raised her eyes to meet Caim's. Those mere seconds of self-control in the presence of a naked edge that could destroy her in the hand of one like Caim was the payback of decades of training. She saw a shadow of admiration cross his eyes.

"You know what that is?"

"Yes."

"Then you know your task has changed."

Kaiyu studied the blade again, her gaze running over the steelwork that gave this mere sword the power to deny the gifts of the angels and demons. The Kefara blades were treasured among the undying the way any deadly and destructive secret would be among beings whose nature was the hunting of prey. The treaties bound them to a code of action, that was true, but nothing could bind their natures. The sheepdogs had once been the wolves, and they still dreamt wolf dreams.

Kaiyu knew no demon of her rank bore one of those blades, or indeed officially knew of their existence. She was fairly sure the long sword sheathed at Caim's hip was a Kefara blade, and it was rumoured others of the High Circle owned such weapons as well. But to give a Hunter demon such a blade was to give her the power of death over the undying.

She lifted her eyes to meet Caim's. "The murder of immortals is forbidden by the treaties."

"This case is an exception not envisioned in the treaties. We were requested to take care of the renegade and that is what you are now asked to do."

Kaiyu's eyes narrowed as she sensed an edge to his words, a danger. "I was not aware that the treaties allowed for exceptions..."

"And I was not aware that I would be lectured by a huntress on how to interpret the treaties." Caim's eyes flashed fiery red, and he leaned forward. "The High Circle interprets the rules and the treaties, and we are in contact with the Echelon. I, as a member of the Highest, am giving you a task. Do you presume to question me?"

Kaiyu bowed her head in immediate submission. "I apologise, Highlord. I misspoke."

"Indeed you did. Know your place, huntress. You are good in the field, but that makes you no more than a prized hunting dog. I am the hand that feeds you. Fail to obey, and you know the consequences."

"Yes, Highlord."

He nailed her with a hard gaze for a moment, then flicked his hand in annoyed dismissal. "Take the blade and go. Your task is still a secret. Your possession of this blade is a further one. I trust you to deal with that."

With those words he pulled something more out of the drawer and tossed it at her. It was a hard leather scabbard, black and quite unremarkable.

Kaiyu stood up. Her hand hovered over the hilt of the short sword for a few seconds, her senses screaming danger at her in all the hundreds languages of demons. And yet, she knew refusal was not an option. She grasped the hilt and lifted the blade. It cut the air with a silky swish of sound, and she ran her gaze over its intricate steelwork, to the pinnacle of death. Then, with the naked deadly steel still in her hand, she met Caim's gaze. She saw no worry there, not a flicker of disquiet. But behind her, his invisible sentinels stirred.

Kaiyu sheathed the sword and bowed her head before turning to walk out. Her gaze fell on the framed scene of ancient crime and the old, dull blade. Ages passed, but things changed little, in the perfectly functioning world of Hell.

_______________________________________

N.B. A cookie and ten points of awesomeness will go to the first person who can tell me who Caim is. Kestrel, you are forbidden to reveal what you know. *wink*

Read next chapter at Chapter VI: The Statue

The new chapter of Feather Path has been delayed by real life, but it is ready and just waiting on my inspiration to polish it and post it. In the meantime, however, I have another very exciting bit of news to share with you! *bounces up and down happily*

Be honest, are you finding it a bit tricky to imagine a humanoid cat demon? Trying to reconcile the images of your purring furball, Lucifer and Xena the warrior princess? Thought so... And with this horrible thought securely in mind, I braved the scratching fury of Kaiyu, grabbed her by the lashing tail and dragged her over to the wonderfully talended Aditya of DeviantArt renown, who courageously agreed to paint a picture of the demoness. Much danger and adventure was had, but I am now proud to introduce to you the first, and perhaps to remain only, image of Kaiyu the demoness. Enjoy!

(click on picture for full image)

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Maelstrom

The stunned silence lasted only a moment. Jack broke into a headlong run back towards the bridge, all the time yelling at the top of his voice "Turn to port. Turn to port now! Sharp! Fast! Damn...!"

The instructions, copiously peppered with expletives, were sharply cut off as the ship did exactly what the captain wanted. It lurched to the left with all the grace of a rusted tub and a heart-wrenching groan. Aleera was tossed hard against the railing, the air leaving her lungs in a startled gasp. She would have been fine, had Dr. Jarvis not also lost his balance. The bear of a man hit her with the whole of his bulk before falling back gracelessly on his backside, but Aleera, caught between the railing and the huge man, toppled overboard and managed only a brief scream before landing in the water with a splash.

"Aleera!" Paul Jarvis was on his feet immediately, peering over the railing into the dark, still water. Another graceless lurch of the old ship almost sent him flying over after her, but he held on.

"Person overboard! Aleera overboard!" he bellowed, and tried to pull off his boots.

Distantly, he heard people take up the cry, running feet approaching, and more yells. The blood was rushing into his head and throbbing in his ears, and he felt close to panic. Can Aleera even swim? He wasn’t sure. He had never asked her. He had brought his daughter into the middle of the ocean on a damn leaking tub, and had never asked her if she could swim!

He managed to brave another lurch of the ship on one foot while disposing of his second boot, and was about to leap into the water when a heavy hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned with the full intention of throwing a punch at whoever tried to stop him, then paused. Even so worked up, he could not swing at a woman. Even Tilda.

Tilda was the ship's cook, and she was the kind of cook who was a walking advertisement of the merits of her craft. She was a lively, huge woman, impressively nimble for her girth, and walked with a swagger that came from years spent aboard rolling decks.

"Ay wouldn't be goin' off doin' that if ay' 're you, matey. We don' know what is in them waters."

Kaiyu slid through the catacombs on padded feet. She moved swiftly and silently, as if she was hunting, although right this moment she was more the prey than the huntress. The feeling was unfamiliar and left her with a disconcerting heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

A huge hulking form loomed in her path and Kaiyu froze, scolding herself for not being more attentive. Second time she was almost caught of guard within mere minutes - this was not a track record she cared for. She held her breath, her barely open yellow eyes dimmed, and she became the shadow of stillness, silent, faded, not there. The hulking monstrosity was staring right at her, Kaiyu saw, but his eyes betrayed no flicker of recognition, or indeed of even note. He was about eight feet tall, with black scaly skin and a face that reminded her of a particularly stupid dodo. His eyes were red, malicious and determined, though, and he had a row of small, sharp horns forming a ridge from the top of his beak to the end of a twitching reptilian tale. He sniffed the air loudly, but Kaiyu smelled of night, rain and sewers, and so did the whole of the catacombs. He let out a pig-like grunt, and slowly turned away from her. The Wardens were guards and bodyguards, they were massive, strong and unquestioningly obedient, but they were not chosen for their sharp intellect. They didn't need to be smart. All they ever did was loom and throw trouble-makers in the Pits. Until now, at least.

Watching the Warden's massive back disappear down the corridor, Kaiyu considered her situation. One of the Highest was looking for her. She knew very little of the High Circle, as most demons of her rank never got to meet them, and were happy for it. Caim, she was aware, was the High Hunter, and as such her ultimate direct superior, she supposed. There was no question of ignoring the summons, even unofficial as they were, but she was not fond of the idea of being dragged before Caim by brainless hulks, like some misbehaving schoolgirl. Her gut feeling told her that the High Hunter would appreciate her being able to avoid his lookouts, maybe would even like a surprise. Letting herself get caught, on the other hand, could easily mean time in the Pits. The Hunters were not meant to be an easy prey and the Highest were not known for their leniency.

Kaiyu felt another strange feeling stirring in her stomach, a shadow of what she had experienced earlier this evening. Excitement. After decades of boredom and lack of challenge for a being so attuned to her one and only purpose, she found this new feeling exhilarating and disquieting. Another change that the angel had brought into her life.

I also simply need to mention my all-the-way sprinting partner, annoying and weird Canadian, and horribly fun person, Krizzlybear. It was great to meet you at the finish like, Krizz, and thanks for the daisies. And the butterfly too <laughs>.

So, where on from here? I was toying with the idea of editing and posting the first chapter of Death's Door on the blog today, but Falconesse over at L'esprit d'escalier (I am so absurdly grateful I don't have to pronounce that... my French is terrible) alerted me to the fact that would harm my chances of getting  the novel sold, if that is what I am aiming for. I am aware it is a long shot at this point, and I certainly lack the mental distance to my own as of yet newborn child of a manuscript to know if it is worth going after a publishing deal. But at this point I would not want to make this chance even more remote than it already is, so unfortunately, I will have to keep the novel under wraps, until my mind has been made up.

That does not mean I will be idle, however! The story of Kaiyu, which has already been started here, is actually situated in the same world as Death's Door, so at the very least I can continue this one in the serial form I started it. Also, I have several ideas for short stories, I have Saucy Wenches writing prompts to catch up on, and overall, I have to finally be a responsible blogger. It cannot be very difficult, considering that I just completed a 50 thousand world novel in less than 30 days, can it? Child's game, compared to that.

Yeehaa!

As for Death's Door, I am planning for now to finish the last chapter (my brain was totally fried last night, so I still have the final scene to write), and then stick it in a virtual drawer and let it mature and beautify without my help until the new year. And then, second draft time comes, baby. And that is a scary and exciting time, almost as much as the month of November itself was.

While I really would like to start editing it, like, right now, I think this might be unwise. The story is too fresh in my mind, and I think some time and distance might make me more objective in my edits, and make it easier to kill my baby where there is the need to. This is one of the hardest parts of editing for me, the realisation you have to sometimes kill your favourite scenes, or remove this extremely witty sentence, or this character building twist, because it just doesn't serve the story. And I do not feel capable of doing that right now. So Death's Door and I both get some time apart, to cool off and reevaluate our very intensive relationship. <smile>

What are your plans for your just finished or not yet completed NaNo novels? Do you need time to cool off as well, or do you prefer to strike the iron while it is hot? How about publishing deals? Considering one? I would be very curious to hear your thoughts on the matter.