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Story written as a submission to the butterfly-themed contest on Jodi Mewadows's blog. Find more out here.

It was night. Kaiyu stood on a roof, overlooking the almost silent city, and sniffed the air, trying to pick up the scent of her quarry where she had lost it the night before. She was hunting again. And she was sore.

In fact, she reflected as she rubbed her shoulder, “sore” was an understatement. It failed to describe the way her shoulders screamed bloody murder at every movement; the way her knees felt rubbery and insecure, but also managed to crackle ominously as she dared to bend them; the way her very bones seemed filled with a dull ache. Of course, the fact that many of them had been broken, sliced, and shattered multiple times over the past week could explain that.

Kaiyu still hunted the angel Ezariel every night. Now, though, she also trained for a few hours every morning. Eir was tough, uncompromising, tenacious and almost gleeful to inflict extreme amounts of punishment upon her pupil. She did not pull her punches, she did not restrain her slashes and stabs, she did not, in fact, do anything short of fight to the death. Were she a human, Kaiyu would have been dead countless times. But even alive, she knew now what dying felt like. She was intimately acquainted with the feeling of cold steel in her stomach, she was familiar with how it felt to lose a limb to the blade, she had experienced the discomfort of having her jugular sliced and her blood filling with air bubbles. The valkyrie did not spare her pupil any lesson of combat, and the punishment for not being good enough was almost, but not quite, what it would be if she failed out there: death.

When Kaiyu could fight no more, when her life was bleeding out of her and her vision started to fade, she would see Eir kneel next to her and know she would scream this time. The valkyrie would dip her fingers in the warm, sticky blood of her pupil, smile at Kaiyu’s crimson-spattered face, and sing. The song was beautiful and it never repeated itself. But the theme was always the same: life and death, heroic battles and sacrifice, and Valhalla. There was always Valhalla.

Warm light enveloped Eir as she sang, soaked her body like the blood coated Kaiyu’s fur and when the two touched, Kaiyu screamed. The pain, the agony was something she lacked words to describe. It was as if someone tried to cut away her muscles, as if she were boiled in metal, as if she were frozen to her core, but still awake to feel it. She screamed until there was no breath left in her lungs, and then she kept screaming, silently, in her head.

Eir had not warned her what would happen the first time. Only later did she deign to enlighten the demoness that there was a price to be paid for magic, that if one forced the body beyond what it was ready to accept, it would exact its revenge. And its revenge was the pain, the agony of muscles that did not want to mend, of bones that did not want to knit back together, of punctured lungs that did not want to breathe and heart that wanted its final rest. There was a price to pay for life, and Kaiyu would pay it, every day, until she managed to defeat her teacher.

If Kaiyu had had any doubts that Eir could teach her, she had lost them after the first lesson. Eir the Merciful had no motherly gentleness for her pupil, and no hesitation. She would forge her into someone who could win, or kill her herself. Kaiyu understood.

Kaiyu rolled her stiff shoulders and narrowed her eyes, looking over the sleeping expanse of the city. Of course, Eir was also making her pay the price of her apprenticeship. And that first price was, to Kaiyu, a much less comfortable matter. She wrinkled her nose in distaste, remembering their talks, and the reverie almost made her miss the movement. She hissed and sprang into motion.

The angel rose about a mile away, a mere shadow in the cityscape but for the huge, snow-white wings that called to Kaiyu like a beacon. Prey, her blood sang, and she homed on him and ran, her feet barely touching the dew-slicked roof, a blur of silent death. But the angel somehow seemed to sense the danger behind him, because he paused and looked back. His shoulders tensed, his wings flapped his surprise and he launched into motion as well. The angel leaped off the building, a shadow in tattered clothes and with huge, slightly misshapen wings which flapped once to aid his passage across the gap. Kaiyu's eyes were focused on him, following every move of her prey.

He skidded across the shingles of the next roof and lost his balance, almost toppling over the edge. His wings beat the air noisily, too noisily, as he plummeted towards the ground and struggled to regain height. Kaiyu's blood sang in the thrill of the hunt, in triumph, as she narrowed the distance between them, but her mind watched, and wondered. Why didn't he take to the skies to avoid her? His flight seemed clumsy, belaboured, and he barely managed to gain the opposite roof. Kaiyu had halved the gap between them by the time he did, and as he turned to look at his death behind him, she could see his eyes and the dark emotion in them. Not fear, she realised with some surprise. Something else, something edgier.

Kaiyu discarded the thought as her fingers slipped her around the now much more familiar pommel of the Kefara at her hip. Finally, they would meet, and this would end.

A screech to her left made her turn her head sharply and hiss. Another shadow glided over the abyss between two buildings, a figure with stinted wings and the piercing croak of a hunting raven. Valac! Kaiyu's eyes flicked to Ezariel, who had redoubled his efforts to speed away from the double threat. So close! Snarling a demonic curse, Kaiyu banked left and leaped. Her muscles bunched as she pushed for speed. Her bones and tendons, raw from Eir's attention, screamed in pain as she vaulted over obstacles and leaped over empty air, her eyes now focused on a new quarry. He would not steal her prey. This was her hunt, and her skin hung in its balance. And the Raven just may have screeched his last.

Valac was so focused on the white wings fluttering in the distance that he only noticed the real danger as Kaiyu landed all but on top of him, on the roof where she had first spotted Ezariel. The scent of the angel, of her escaping prey, so fresh, so close, assaulted her nostrils and inflamed her blood. She snarled, a vicious sound, and launched herself at the demon, four claws extended. He half twisted, half fell, trying to turn mid-stride to meet her onslaught when her nails buried in his left side, scraping past ribs and piercing his lung. With a quick move she twisted her claws in the demon and ripped his side open. He screamed then, a wheezing, piercing shriek of bird panic and Kaiyu snarled, her eyes flashing death. She swung her arm up and around, trying to grapple his neck but he blocked her and twisted away, bleeding profusely.

"What the Hell are you doing?" his voice was barely understandable, a step up from the croak of a raven. "We are a team!"

"No, we are not." Kaiyu snarled as she kicked out, a roundhouse kick at his tender ribs that Valac only barely dodged. "This is my prey. This," she blocked his swipe at her throat and grasped his hand, twisting it till he almost kneeled and then launching a vicious kick at his spine that made something crunch, "is my hunt."

As she released his arm and he started to fall forward, she grasped his head and twisted once, sharp. His spine crunched again and he was still. She let him go then and he dropped, heavy and listless, on the roof. Kaiyu looked down at Valac and prodded him with her foot, still sporting a set of razor-sharp claws. The new rivulets of blood licking down his feathers were barely noticeable against the mess of the broken body. He was not dead. It took more than a ripped-out lung and broken spine to kill a demon. But he was out. And he would stay out for a few hours, she imagined, until his nerves managed to reconnect and his brain resumed control.

As the adrenaline faded, Kaiyu felt her body begin to throb. Valac had not managed to hurt her, not seriously, but she was too raw, too stiff from the fighting sessions with Eir, her not-so-tender healing, and the speed-chase across the rooftops, and this short, brutal skirmish had cost her. She groaned and rolled her shoulders, then narrowed her eyes as something poking out of Valac's knife belt snagged her gaze.

Kaiyu bent down and pulled out a stack of sheets. The scent of the angel, even sharper and more potent, filled her nostrils. She opened the papers, and saw his writing, unmistakable in its elegant flourish. The demoness stared down at Valac then, and hissed through clenched teeth, "And those are my clues. By Lucifer, I want one good reason why not to kill you."

Unfortunately, she had one. The treaties. He was an immortal and she liked her skin too much. It was enough she was supposed to kill the angel.

The angel! She spun around, sharp yellow eyes scanned the horizon...and met a pair of amber ones, observing her. The angel, Ezariel, was standing on the ledge of a rooftop, facing her. He was about half a mile away, too far for mortal eyes to see details, but Kaiyu was no mortal. She took in the tall, lean figure dressed in the tatters of what looked like a formal suit, huge white wings folded behind his back. Short dark hair framed an elegant, pale face with high cheekbones and a straight nose. His hair whipped into his eyes as the wind tossed it around. But his eyes were what held Kaiyu's gaze, those amber pools of calm that had her momentarily mesmerised. He was looking back at his hunter, at his death, but not with the eyes of a prey. He watched her as she watched him, and she saw no fear in his eyes, no hate or panic. She saw determination, and peace, and something else...something she could not quite grasp.

Ezariel suddenly unfurled his wings, like two white flags spread taut by the wind, and the flash of brightness had Kaiyu snapping back to reality. He was her prey. She had to catch him, to kill him and end this. She took a step forward, and stumbled. Her muscles contracted violently as she moved, her bones filled with white hot agony and she almost collapsed. Kaiyu halted, a hiss rippling out of her throat. She would not give a chase now. And somehow the angel knew that, was aware that, for the moment, he was safe. She saw it in his eyes.

So she could do nothing but watch as Ezariel reached up and plucked a couple of long feathers from his wings. His brows furrowed in pain as he pulled them out, and drops of blood dappled them as he withdrew his hand, but his eyes never left hers. He ripped a length of fabric from his already ruined suit, and tied the feathers with it, then slowly bent down and placed the bundle on the roof, like an offering. And he smiled. It was unlike any smile Kaiyu had seen before. It was not sneering, or challenging, or gloating, but a slow, tender, self-assured expression that mellowed his features and transformed his tattered figure into something...else.

As Kaiyu stared, confused and frustrated, Ezariel turned his back on her, and slowly walked away.

Kaiyu leaped and tumbled over a couch, putting the obstacle between her and the oncoming valkyrie. The woman spun and crouched, watching the demon's head poking over the couch, ears pressed flat in distress. The sword felt clumsy and unwieldy in Kaiyu's hand, but the self-proclaimed merciful Eir seemed to not have this issue. She held the piece of balanced, cold metal as if it were an extension of her arm, one that looked no less deadly or beautiful than the rest of her body. A warrior.

Eir. Where had Kaiyu heard this name before? Where could she have heard any valkyrie's name before? She remembered. Eir, Brynhildr’s Lieutenant. Eir, who led the crippled valkyries out of heaven. Eir, who had spilled blood and taken life before demons even existed. That Eir. A sinking feeling informed Kaiyu she was as good as dead.

A smirk tugged at the woman's lips, as if she could hear Kaiyu's thoughts. Zaebos had tucked himself away in the corner, and his eyes, big and startled, gave away his own surprise, and perhaps fright. He had led Kaiyu into a trap, but she could see he had not done it wittingly. He trusted this woman?

Kaiyu watched Eir as she uncoiled, still smiling, eyes glittering.

"Will your kitty not play with me, Zaebos, old man? I do not enjoy slaying without a fight, but ah...has been too long...too long..." She clucked her tongue, eyes raking Kaiyu with scorn. "Easy prey would be better than no prey, I would say."

A low hiss escaped Kaiyu's lips. The nature of the wild cat in her genes coiled, and poured fire into her bones. She was a demon and a cat. She was not prey and was tired of being at the mercy of those that deemed themselves powerful. Claws pushed out of the fingers of her left hand and her feet, she bunched up her muscles, ready for a spring. She growled then, a growl of challenge, and frustration, of yellow eyes flaring in the underbrush and the wild blood of half her ancestry.

Eir laughed, delighted, "Ah, that is much better!"

And she sprang again. Within a moment she was over the couch and on Kaiyu, her sword flashing in a downward arc meant to halve her opponent. But the demoness rolled away and the blade cut only air. Kaiyu came up in a crouch and just in time to duck under a slash at her head. As Eir spun and tried to kick Kaiyu's midriff, the demoness grabbed the foot and guided it past on its own inertia, hoping to destabilise the valkyrie. But she just laughed and spun as if dancing, to land firmly on her feet and stab at Kaiyu again.

The demoness was clearly outmatched in experience and strength, she had no illusions. But she still had one slight edge-speed. As Eir slashed and stabbed, powerfully and fast, Kaiyu focused on not being where the blows were meant to land, or, when that failed, meeting Eir’s sword them with her unstable, but very much steel, blade. The room rang with the clash of blades and Eir's laughter as she slowly pushed Kaiyu back, step by step.

Cuts bloomed all over the demoness's body, soaking her fur in bright red blood before sealing, her regeneration boosted by adrenaline and determination. Eir's skin remained unblemished, and she fought with discomforting ease and without breaking a sweat. Now that Kaiyu was well engaged into the fight, the valkyrie fought with less intensity and more grace, like a fencer. Her free hand was tucked behind her back, and she used the short sword with finesse and speed, as if it were a rapier. There was something odd in the way her body was perfectly poised and controlled, her balance exquisite, yet she kept laughing, and the gleam in her eyes sent chills down Kaiyu's spine.

She had no time to realise when the valkyrie stopped playing. One second she was dodging and blocking the laughing warrior woman, then suddenly her blade flew across the room and shattered with a resounding crash against a wall. Next thing she knew, Kaiyu was on the floor with Eir's face a breath away from hers, and a sharp blade on her neck.

"Ready to die, kitty?"

"Only... if I take you with me."

Eir blinked and Kaiyu flexed her claws, pressed against the valkyrie's stomach. Warm blood welled over her nails as they broke the skin. Eir raised an eyebrow, then suddenly laughed and stood up. The demoness looked up at her proffered hand with suspicion, then took it. The valkyrie made no comment on the fact Kaiyu’s claws were still out and shredding her skin as she pulled the demoness up, then stepped back.

"I like your spirit. You are untrained and fight like something caught from the jungle. The way you handle the sword makes me cringe. But you have speed, desire to live and you learn quickly. You managed to draw blood. That is more than I expected. I can work with that." She turned to look at Zaebos, who was pressed against one wall and looked ashen-faced twice over. "Your kitty might just make it, old man."

Eir seemed to notice Zaebos's state then, because she tilted her head and appraised him for a few long moments, before walking over and placing a hand on his shoulder. A softer, almost motherly smile gentled her features.

"Come now, Zaebos. You knew I would test her. I grant you, I did not tell you how seriously, but...I needed to be sure." She patted his shoulder "Come now. Let's sit on the couch."

The valkyrie tucked her hand under the old demon's arm and guided him towards the couch. Kaiyu followed a few paces behind, her body outwardly relaxed, but her claws were still out and her eyes trained on Eir, ready to spring at any sharp movement.

"You can relax, kitty." Eir helped Zaebos sit down and slipped in the couch next to him, patting his knee amiably. "I am done testing you. You passed."

"I would much rather you don't call me that. And does this mean you will train me?"

Eir turned an appraising look up at Kaiyu, then nodded. "I will stop calling you that when you win it. And yes. I will train you. However, it will not be for free."

Kaiyu felt oddly comforted by that. In her world, nothing, not even death, came for free. The greed made this woman more familiar than anything else she had done till this moment.

The demoness raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms, watching Eir with expectation. The valkyrie smiled slightly.

"Why...you will be my best friend, kitty."

Kaiyu realised her mouth hung open, closed it with a decisive click of teeth and hissed, "What?"

Eir chuckled "Surprised? Well, kitty, you would have not been my first pick either, I assure you, but I am nothing if not practical. And I have been here for a long time. A very long time. And I am not allowed many visitors, as you can imagine..." Her gaze darkened as she continued. "Oh, no... not many at all. In fact... How long was it Zaebos? Several decades after I was closed off here before you were allowed to actually check on me? My voice, when I found it, sounded like broken glass..." As suddenly as the dark mood hit her, it left and she smiled at the demoness brightly. "Old Zaebos does visit me regularly now, the sweetheart. But he does not get out much. Well-meaning as he is, he can be very boring company." She squeezed the old demon's knee, and he gave her a weak smile. "Also, I need to spar. I have not sparred with anything but a wooden dummy for so long, I am rusty! So...you, kitty, are my new best friend. Also, my eyes and ears. And my new training dummy."

"Great..." Kaiyu muttered.

"That," Eir continued, "will be the first part of the price." Her smile changed then, got edged and calculating.

Kaiyu's hackles rose. "And the second part?"

"You will know when it is time." Eir's eyes sparkled.

A week more of fruitless pursuit. Kaiyu was a patient tracker, a deadly and tenacious hunter, but she was getting frustrated. The angel was leading her on a merry chase, and Valac was stuck to her like tar and about as helpful. He confused the scents, tried to get ahead of her so she was forced to backtrack and go in circles to try to elude him, and he had tried to jump her three more times in the past week. Two times were short, brutal and bloody; the third she pushed him off a roof and watched him flip, spread his wings and glide away, screeching in triumph. He aimed for her to fail, or, barring that, he aimed for her to be forced to cooperate. Either way, Ezariel would be delivered in Eve’s hands, and Kaiyu's survival was less than guaranteed. Kaiyu's fingers itched and strayed towards the Kefara at her hip every time she picked up Valac's scent, but no. She could not kill another demon with this blade. That would be an even surer way of signing her own death sentence.

Besides, when it came down to it, she was much better with her claws than with the blade. Sure, it would end a life with one good thrust while to finish off an immortal with her claws she would need to dismember him to small pieces. But unless the target was immobile, and preferably unconscious, she could not trust herself to hit the mark at all with the unwieldy piece of metal and magic. And pulling out the blade only to somehow have it hinder her, or worse, to lose it to Valac, would definitely not improve her life expectancy.

Kaiyu stashed the blade in her hiding place in the deserted part of the Catacombs, and sighed. This task was proving trickier than she had anticipated, and Caim was losing patience. She had seen his Shades stalking her in the catacombs, cold and watchful, not yet bearing a summons, but she knew that would come soon, too. And if she had nothing better to report than a few fast-fading bruises, tired feet and empty hands, she would be in trouble.

She could, of course, report Eve's involvement to Caim, but that would be a whole new can of worms, and one that did not promise survival either. Eve did not treat lightly those who stymied her plans, and Kaiyu supposed the only reason she lived was that, for some reason, the succubus seemed to put enough worth on recruiting her to be willing to delay. Caim, on the other hand, could well choose to throw away the evidence of his opposition to his demonic mother, if he was reasonably sure she was not yet aware of his involvement. And the evidence, it so happened, consisted of a mid-ranking huntress and a blade. Or, he might decide to oppose Eve, throwing Kaiyu squarely in the jaws of an enemy who would crush her without even taking notice, and cause a war in Hell. Alternatively, Kaiyu could choose to ally with Eve, who would use her to play her hand and then likely discard her, because any evidence of her involvement with the fate of this so-prized angel would invoke dire consequences. And even Eve had one person in Hell she feared.

All in all, there seemed to be a lot of creative choices of death in Kaiyu's path. And all this, for an angel. It made no sense. Something crucial was missing in the picture.

A shadow shifted. Kaiyu moved with fluid grace, her body running ahead of her thoughts. Her claws slid out of her fingertips as she ducked to avoid a blow that did not come, her legs tensing in the crouch. She launched herself at the shadow that seemed to make a sound, but a second later it was slammed by one hundred forty pounds of fury, tension and claws. Her claws dug into a neck, her eyes flared, her free arm pulled back and struck out, aiming to gut the stomach of her opponent and pull his innards out, a first step of dismembering an immortal in ideal circumstances. Her nails pierced the skin of his stomach before her mind caught up with her frustration.

Zaebos gurgled at her. She stared, eyes cold and narrowed to slits. Blood seeped from his wounds, trickling over her fingers. He opened his mouth, trying to speak, but her hand crushed his windpipe in a vice grip of steel and bladed claws, and only a strangled croak came out. His crocodile head, equipped with big sharp teeth, was crushed between the wall and his human one. The jaw had opened grotesquely under the pressure of her push, and was oozing saliva. He looked pathetic.

Kaiyu released him, stepped back and closed her eyes. A heavy thump told her he had collapsed on the floor. He wheezed, trying to regain his breath. His lungs whistled, like dying bagpipes.

Zaebos was an old demon, and he had spent centuries in the Pits. What she had seen of them in her visit was not the real deal and she knew it. The top three levels were for the small-time transgressors, those who spent no more than a few decades in custody for some minor crime. They were clean and easy, almost an ordinary prison. It was the lower levels that were the reason the Pits deserved their name. And as a caretaker of the Pits he was also subject to one of their vile punishments. If Zaebos were a normal man, he would have died within a year from the noxious fumes.  For centuries now, his regeneration had been fighting a vicious battle with lung cancer and blood poisoning, and winning by a hair. His regenerative powers barely managed to keep him alive. If she had gutted him, he would have died.

She opened her eyes, and met his careful red stare. They said nothing. There was nothing to say.

Zaebos pushed himself off the floor with a painstaking creak of joints, and rubbed at his throat, wiping the blood oozing from five long slashes, four on one side of his neck, shallow, and one on the other, deeper. With his taxed body they would take forever to close. Kaiyu watched, making no move to aid him.

The old demon took a deep breath and spoke. "I was waiting for you. There is someone I would like you to meet."

Kaiyu nodded. Zaebos turned and walked slowly, with a rather pronounced limp, in the direction of the inner Catacombs. Kaiyu followed, a quiet shadow in his noisy, rasping wake. They walked in silence for a few minutes, following the most direct path to the Pits. Two brutes still stood guard there, although whether they were the same two, Kaiyu could not say for sure. They made no move to intercept the pair as Zaebos unlocked the massive door and stepped inside, Kaiyu in tow. He closed the door behind them and turned sharply left, to a cell door that looked no different from all the others. Instead of a cell, however, it revealed a broad but rough staircase winding down. A row of glow-orbs floated around the walls of the entryway, mingling their ghostly light into a queer dance of shadows and flickers. Zaebos reached towards one and it glided to his hand, as if attached by an invisible thread. Kaiyu did the same and they started their descent.

The stairs went down deep. At every level there was a small platform and a heavy door, but there was not even a barred window to offer a glimpse at what was beyond. Kaiyu did not need her eyes to guess when they passed into the Pits proper, however. The air gained a sharp, acrid smell and her tongue tried to automatically recoil from the taste that assaulted her, even through her nostrils. It was sharp, sour and bitter at the same time, and with an aftertaste of sweet decay and almonds. She held her breath without deciding to. One taste had been enough for her lungs to recognise the danger. They passed ten platforms before the acrid tang of the air dissipated and Kaiyu began to breathe again. They were below even the Pits now, and kept descending. She said nothing and asked nothing, but within herself, she was coiled like a spring, ready to fight. Whoever was in these levels, they could be no good news.

At last, Zaebos stopped before a door. It was no different from any other, not remarkable in any way except the fact it was seven levels below the deepest pit. Kaiyu stood behind him and waited as he fiddled with his massive bunch of keys, outwardly relaxed but inwardly tensed like a bowstring. Her knees bent a bit as the door swung open, ready to launch her into a leap of attack at the first sign of trouble. The small room wafted a puff of dust at her. Kaiyu unclenched, looked around, and stepped inside after Zaebos.

There was a small rough table in the room, a long, leather-wrapped object on the table, a second door, and nothing else. Zaebos stepped toward the small table, picked up the bundle and tossed it to her. Without a comment Kaiyu caught it and unwrapped it, revealing a blade of a basic design, a short sword not so dissimilar from the Kefara blade she had stashed above, except that it was pure and simple steel. Kaiyu weighed it, her muscles informing her of its perfect balance, and then looked at the old demon, eyes hard.

"I do not need a blade. I have barely any skill in using one," she finally said, when the silence between them had stretched to the point of snapping.

The old demon exhaled, as if in relief. His gaze then steeled, and he shook his head. "You and I both know that. We also both know you have been given a Kefara blade. Don't give me an indignant expression now, or try to deny. I have lived too long to believe you would be sent to hunt and kill an immortal with no weapon but your claws."

Kaiyu considered his words for a few moments, then nodded.

"Good. Well, the type of blade was a wild guess, but it had to be small enough to not impair your mobility too much and also not be too flashy. That took halberd, spear and all kinds of big swords out of the question, and besides, you are a cat. You rely on speed, not brute strength. And there are few enough of those types of weapons that one gone missing would be noticed. But there is a rather larger storage of Kefara short swords kept in the Armoury. So, my guess was a short sword."

He looked at her for confirmation, and she nodded. Zaebos sighed. "Well... you are also no good with it, we both know that too. And in the shit you are, you will need every ounce of help you can get. So you need to learn to use the blade."

Kaiyu's brows furrowed. "Are you planning to teach me?"

Zaebos laughed, a short, bitter laugh. "Once I could have, but you are a millennium too late for the time I pranced about with blades or claws. No. But I have found someone who might."

"Might?"

"Might."

Kaiyu considered and then nodded a third time. There would be a challenge and she would be tested, that much was clear. It also was obvious it could be a trap, or very dangerous even if it was not an outward trap, but in truth, she had no choice. If she had any chance of survival, it was in the edge this deadly blade gave her. She had to learn, and Zaebos was dangling the bait of a teacher. A cat could never resist a shiny bait.

"Very well."

Zaebos stepped towards the second door, picked out a large black key from his chain, and slid it in the lock. The key turned softly and the door swung open almost of its own accord, on well-oiled hinges. Kaiyu tensed and stepped inside after the figure of Zaebos, who promptly pushed the door to shut, and stepped aside. Kaiyu took in the view.

It was a room, almost the size of a small ballroom and even more luxurious. Kaiyu took in a huge library covering the whole right wall, with reading tables and chairs in front; a mantelpiece with merrily burning fire and couches arranged in a comfortable circle around a low coffee table of dark wood in the far right corner; a huge bed draped in silk and with satin sheets towered at the wall directly opposite the door, and to its left there was an area draped off in gauzy curtains, through which she glimpsed colourful cushions. The whole floor was covered in heavy carpets which looked so thick as to have feet get lost in them. If this were a prison, Kaiyu thought in the split second it took her to absorb the scene, it was a gilded one. And so was its prisoner.

A woman stood directly in front of her, in a wide space free of carpet and furniture. She was tall, and breathtakingly beautiful. Sapphire blue eyes looked out of a pale face the colour of fresh milk, with a few dainty freckles around a straight nose and over high cheekbones. Her lips were full, pale pink and curved in a slight smile that made Kaiyu's hackles rise. Two long braids of honey blonde hair hung down to her thighs, like a gilt frame around an exquisite painting of some goddess of beauty and war. Her body was firm, tightly muscled and completely naked, and it glowed in the dimness, as if a pale gold light was emanating from within her. The only things to mar her absolute beauty were the two angry red stumps that bulged on her shoulders. In her hands, she held a sword.

"Good morrow to you," she said in a soft, lilting voice laced with command. "My name is Eir the Merciful."

Then she sprang.

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."

Read next chapter at Chapter X: The Teacher

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