The Angelic Call
I am a man of God and of magic; I am what most people would call a magician, and with my faith in God I will surely overcome any at all obstacle. I am a magician, however, I am not a person of such foolish trickeries such as pulling hares in top hats, disappearing with the use smoke and mirrors, and other parlor tricks designed to fool the credulous. I am a person of a much more genuine profession. It is, in a way a science, however, it was more of an art form of the arcane and the esoteric, grounded firmly on legends and myths surrounding my God and His peoples, to be modified into something useful. Although, I cannot wholly divulge such knowledge just to anyone lest I have to eliminate them, or worst, they would have to kill me. As such, I am forever in a certain dismayed mood, as I cannot revel on the fact that what I do and perform is that of truth, and sneer at those who believe that stage acts blazed neon lights is the level of what magic can truly ever be. However, even this dismay is extinguished by my duties that are bound in blood and in faith. I am but a mere servant of God, serving under the 0th Parish of the Church of England. Such a parish, such a section, technically does not exist, as do I, a priest of the holy church has never been or will ever be and ordained in that parish of that Church.
As I was tasked to do, they have sent me to Japan to infiltrate a certain City, which has been in the sights of not only our dearly beloved Archbishop but of many others as well. Such a place is held in both spiteful tone and begrudging respect, as it stands opposite against us. What I will do within that City, which easily allows access to persons such as myself—provided I will cause no tangible nuisance—I do not know. I was instructed to infiltrate the City and await further instructions from my superiors; that is all, there was not a hint of any explanation as to why. Using the knowledge I have, I hypothesized several possibilities. Perhaps I would meet with the treacherous member of our parish, that blond native who speaks profane erotic acts with his stepsister, and that I would then be allowed to kill him, something that I would ruthlessly carry against him.
Perhaps, even more pressingly, I would be ordered to retrieve the invaluable holder of the 103,000 grimoires, examples of which were the Book of Eibon, Cultes des Goules, and most frighteningly,Edward Alexander's Book of the Law, a tome that was believed to end the age of Christianity if ever decrypted.
I was not too sure which one would be the true nature of my mission. However, I am also not too sure entirely about this mission in itself. I stated that I was tasked to infiltrate the City. However, I did not think so much as to who or why that task was given unto me, and only upon my arrival into the City itself that I began to grasp that my situation was not all at it seems and of course my eventual confused mentality after this. There was however, a gnawing feeling that crept into my mind the minute I step into the walled lands of this City. It was something that drew me closer and deeper into its depth, like a minnow being caught in a trap by the hideous anglerfish of the deep. That gnawing feeling cannot be truly described in such a simple simile. It was an ineffable feeling that I can only compare to an angel calling me, a devotee of God. It seemed to me like a call, it was still a voice, but not of any sort of person in this earth. I could not ascertain whether it was of male or female, as well as the language and the accent that was used. As if it the information for my summons was etched into my mind, and insisted it was a voice even though it did not have qualities of any person or any being in this earth for that matter that would resemble it as such. All I knew was that this voice seemed to have a beautiful, even a majestic tone—perhaps of an angel's. Despite my misgivings, I continued with my supposed mission at the happenstance that it would not be truly all in vain.
I walked forth into the City, as if following that angelic voice that I could barely explain, there, I beheld before me the proverbial crown of the East.
It was the white concrete jewel of the world. A concrete jungle of several edifices made of marvelous wonders designed, constructed and polished, perhaps surprisingly by the hands of men and his machines. It lied between several other concrete jungles, other cities, which pale in comparison to this City, completely inferior to it.
As I span the mechanical Agathion-cleaned streets of the City, the buildings and obelisks leer curiously. It was as if it knew I was an alien of this realm, and mocked me intensely due to the minuteness of my existence compared to them. Indeed, the immensity of these City structures trumped my person overwhelmingly and as a result, also, of what remained of my pride. My countenance completely changed in a single instant at this small realization, and an even more furtive emotion beset me. I knew that an even whiter and greater structure resided within the City. It mysteriously stood in both day and in night above all others, having no need for any sort of aperture that any sane human required to enter and even exit the building. It was the center of control of the City. Leaning higher and staring longer at it, would make that great eyrie, which seemingly touched the clouds, like the rim of all of the world. Even more fantastical or horrible—depending on one's point-of-view—is that it housed the elusive and inexplicable lord of the City, whose visage was that of no definable age and peer group, an apparent immortal who opposed us since the days of the City's birth, lying within his cold crimson throne of liquid and machinery that fulfilled his immortal aspect. I scoffed at the murmurs within the hallowed halls of the Cathedral of St George done by blasphemers that such a man could be immortal, and that the structure he is in is immune to any magical attack even that of the Papists' Gregorian chant.
Still however, the structures gleamed magnificently before me against the blue skies that were crowned by the rays of the single star called the Sun. Despite the utter insignificance of my person and my position within it, I could not help but be awed by the vast glory of the vistas that mine eyes have captured, the immeasurable splendor of this City.
Of course, my seemingly obsessive admiration for it shall never truly be complete. As both the City and I lied in opposite sides in the world's powers. I shudder discreetly within my robes at how our side—composed of many peoples of all different types—could be opposed by a singular City. Perhaps the strength of this City lied within the fact that is united as a single force. In contrast, ours despite being larger is divided severely. The magic and science sides, most men would think little at such a queer combination of words, however, both sides are all too real. It influences the life and nature in the world itself. Distinct and discrete from each other absolutely, with its own peculiar ways and technologies, both sides seemingly draw suspicion from the other.
Worries well up from within me, as I recall whispered rumors of the secret world within the City; it was something furtive that was just beneath the surface. These were hidden within the darkness that embraced the City in closed and empty corners, and during the cover of the night. In spite of all these fears, I continue to tread the streets and other walkways and thoroughfares of this City, as I had a mission to do in this foreboding place. As I traversed the City, the sun has already set, and many people have seen and noted my queer attire—not that it matters, as there is a spell I know of which can easily disperse bystanders. However, I kept walking, and have yet to receive any new information from my superiors. Now I can only keep up with the angel's call, and I seemed to be in a state of reverie. Even in this stupor however, I continued to keep my pace, and as I walk into a dark alleyway, I discover that indeed, not all of the City is clean and brilliantly white, as it appears to be.
It was a corpse of a young girl, who may have just entered the age of pubescence. Mangled beyond suitable recognition, blood seeped into the cracks and partitions of the pavement. Inspecting the corpse one final time, I see a curious object, which was probably made of either metal or plastic. It was affixed upon what remained of her head; it was covered so thoroughly in blood that it can be easily missed by a glance. At the same time as this, the call seemed to fade slowly into nothingness.
The corpse's appearance gave hints that the killer may have been amateurish at killing, as her tea-colored hair and bluish-gray short skirt can still be recognizable, I judge, by even a bystander. However, a creeping feeling within me urges me to believe that the killer had no true reason not to hide or completely eradicate the corpse. Perhaps the perpetrator killed in reckless abandon. Those thoughts well up deep within me the longer I see the corpse. However, in this city, I can scarcely recall what moniker people gave to beings such as the monster that killed this girl I suspect, these blasphemies against God. I admit that I do not wish to know anything more regarding the science side; however, this matter is of slight importance to me. In fleeting recollection, the knowledge however, returned, and the name of these perverted creations that once were children—espers.
As a priest, I gave the corpse one final prayer for its departure from this world into the next, wherever that place may be. Having done so, I made the ritualistic preparations in the area for her burial to start proper. I truly believe that this City will not give a thought to this corpse for a suitable burial. I took out from my belt within my robe, a curiously ornate staff. Its very shape, size and decorations are steep in symbolic imagery that is necessary to borrow the power of a saint of antiquity from the Church. I took my ornate staff, and placed its head upon the corpse own head. It was as if I was a king preparing the final rituals for turning a meager squire into that of glorious knight. I then began a short but sufficient incantation, although it would apt to say it was a prayer.
The ritual had neither an awesome crack of lighting nor an explosive burst of ethereal energy. Such ostentatious extravagance can only be insulting to the poor and tired soul of the deceased, who awaited her final farewell from this plane. It was merely a simple moving of the earth. The pavement—the concrete and cement that it made up of—moved in a liquefied state, creating a hole, large enough for the person. The semi-liquid earth seemed to pour into the hole and dragged the body along with all the earth the blood touched. There was a definite sound of earth-movement, but as well as the sound of running water. For a brief moment, I can slightly hear the faint call of the angel. To me, even though, there was no tangible rhythm or beat from these sounds, they appeared to play a musical movement of their own, something that I could scarcely comprehend.
I can recall a small phrase from the Bible wherein poor Abel's blood that was spilt upon the earth by Cain—the ancestor of all vampires—screamed for justice. Here, it was not a scream or a cry, but a strange yet saddening swan song.
In the end, the makeshift grave was completed and the corpse and all the blood was dragged deep into the ground. I made my final prayers, and was at ease that the soul of the dead can finally rest in peace as the angel's call faded once again. Clutching my ornate staff still, and with the use of magic, I made a small mark upon the ground where the grave should be, and simply wrote a reminder that someone had been buried here. There was still a subtle sound from the magic of my creating an inscription on the ground. It was the sound of rock dragging on rock, I slightly felt like a child using chalk to draw their fantastical visions and imaginations on the ground. With a slight sigh however, I realized that I seemed to make the final note for the requiem the blood and the liquefied ground had made earlier. Although, I should take no pride as a worker for the Lord, I was slightly glad of what I have done, especially after that realization. It was small matters such as those, which made the dangerous and often unglamorous job of a magician slightly bearable. The large victories were for the glory of Church and the Lord, while little ones were for the magicians.
As I was readying myself to set-off again, that call became apparent again. Perhaps it showed respect for such ceremonies, although I could only guess. However, these meager thoughts of mine was suddenly engulfed in fear, as I smell the scent of death once again in the air, and seemingly in-sync, the call began to wander forth towards that scent.
Deeper into that alleyway, the shadows hold all the secrets it can, for there standing in the darkness was a demoniac figure, wrapped with the scent of death. The scent was unmistakable to me, as I handled such a pungent fetor before countless times in my secret career. However, this one was too familiar beyond reasoning, and I can only surmise that it is the same stench of death that hung within the alleyway only a few moments ago—concentrated on the corpse of that girl! It wouldn't be too farfetched to conclude that the beast with glowing red eyes hidden amongst the all too accepting darkness is the esper, the monster that killed that girl.
Within that darkness that veiled being seemed to make a movement—it was walking towards me. Step-by-step the shadowy monster slowly went forward. I can discern that he was walking towards me because the crimson eye's that glowed menacingly within the shadows grew more intense for each step. Each step the monster took time seemed to play a game with itself, standing still after each step and then returning to normal after the sound reached my ears.
The space around the area I stood seemed to distort into a bulging form. The edges of my eyes were covered in blurred shadows with the darkness just in the front of me being the most clear in my visions. For the first time I felt a strange sensation as my heart sped faster that I could ever presume.
This is a feeling I hitherto have yet to feel in my entire career as a magician serving the 0th Parish. This is the first taste of that feeling I do not want to admit, a feeling similar to my childhood stirrings in dark and lonely nights. This feeling seemed to creep from those shadowy veils that covered that demon, slithered onto my back and into my eyes and into my brain, like worms wriggling into the deepest crevices and cracks of my person.
The light tapping continued and the embers of the monster's eyes grew more intense, that and only that were continuing, nothing else. It was an infinity of spatial distortions and maddening tapping. I was in this abysmal isolation and that the every moment is paved in agony as I waited for something, anything, to occur.
Something will occur however; it was inevitable that it will. I knew that I still lied within the four dimensions of our ordinary earth, and my mind was simply mockingly whipped apart my perceptions of this world as consequence of the dread I felt. Yet terror consumed the mind for each second that the inevitably does not occur.
It was an inevitability, yet for each step that monster took, his exact form did not show itself before me. Forever beyond my gaze, and forever hidden by the shadows, the monster ceased his movement and seemed to mock my wild imaginings of my mind by lightly tapping on the pavement. Will its true form be only as real as what my abominable imagination that my mind could conjure?
Even more terribly so, the angelic call seemed to chant something absurdly strange. There was a rhythm and a beat. Although everything else, such as the timbre, melody and pitch were not of any holy songs and chants I knew; in fact, I do not think it is of this earth at all. The volume was frighteningly loud as well, pounding my head for every second I hear it. Perhaps this was the song of the heavens. It was as if I was being sung a requiem by the heavens themselves. Is this a test from the Lord?
I muttered to myself that I would past these trials that the Lord has given me, as my spirit is slightly reinvigorated in spite of these terrible visions and sounds.
At that very instant, I hear a shrill voice come out of that abyss. It sputtered mocking tones; although, I felt the voice was seemingly a sardonic and even insulting facsimile of a human voice. I immediately knew it was that of a monster, laughing blasphemously at my faith. Anymore of this awful laughter however, would make me scarcely believe and liken it to the profane pipings of amorphous creatures for the throne of the demon sultan in the center of chaos, something I have glimpse briefly from the tome written by that Mad Arab, Abdul Alhazred.
I however, tried to maintain my stance and keep calm despite this evil cacophony. At another instant however, there was a sound of explosion, as air and dust seemed to scatter away from the center of my vision, and for a mere second created a silent vacuum.
It was definitely an explosion. I still kept my stance despite this, and knew that I did not acquire injuries. As the dust settled, I could see before me a terrible sight. My burial ritual for the girl required me to create a small temple, or for laymen, a territory to separate from intrusions and distractions while I did the ritual. It had an automated security to protect me from attack. A small crag will jut out from the ground and protect me from any harmful spells or attacks. It was nearly impenetrable, and I owe my life to that magic several times.
Here, the crag had jutted out from the ground as it was intended. However, as I inspected the crag more closely, I can clearly see it was penetrated by a fist-sized rock. It was obvious that the monster had done it. Hearing an irritated sound from the shadows, I knew that the monster expected that my head should have exploded the instant that rock hit me. I was in terribly grave danger; I can now be harmed by this monster.
Then there was a hail of rocks. In an instant, a hideously loud explosion came from the darkness, tearing the alleyway's pavement into tiny pebbles, barely a reminder of its previous plain and flat surface. Nearly all the pebbles shot towards me at the same time; nevertheless, it completely engulfed my vision. However, at the same time as that, smaller cracking sounds roared near me, jutting forth from the ground, the automatic spell appeared at the same time and received the punishment of a hail of fast moving rocks. In all directions, I was covered with those little peaks seemingly giving me a motherly embrace and provided me with a mother's protection. The hail continued and truly, the magic was tested towards straining. Fractures and cracks appeared on the jutting crags. Pieces of it fell down, which I nervously tried to elude. Yet that magic stood unyielding towards that pummeling and as a testament, I can only hear the sounds of bursts, cracks, explosions and breakage.
Finally, the sound stopped, and at the same time, the spell finally was damaged beyond use. The jutted rocks that surrounded me collapsed back to the ground, and now I was faced with the utter destruction of the alleyway and the shadowed beast.
The monster began laughing again, apparently excited at my struggle. However, I knew I am no match for this monster. I would gladly die in a blaze of glory fighting a vain battle with the monster for the Church. However, I received no order to engage him in a fight. Indeed, the balance between the two sides will be damaged into oblivion if I fight this monster of the science side. I knew that I could only retreat and wait for those further instructions that have eluded my ears so. I damn the science side for creating something so despicable.
However, I was in a standstill with the monster, as if it was waiting for my next move. I should not be hasty with my judgments however, for the next move could be my last. I still had in my grips my ornate staff. I knew a distraction spell that would come handily at this moment, however, I was afraid that would entice the monster. In fact, I could predict that every movement I make would most likely entice the monster. However, there was a pressing matter that if I prolong my judgments, the monster would make the first move. I must move regardless of the monster's ability to kill in an instant; I knew that if I wanted to escape, I should be the one to make the first move.
I have stared into the abyss, and it has stared back. That fool Nietzsche would be correct at this point, but I have yet to retain the form of a monster; I have yet achieved madness. I did not want to; I was unable to. However, I cannot and did not become like him—shadowy demon. However, I needed to make a decision now. Breathing heavily, my audible breath resonated through the entire alleyway. Clearly, the monster knew I was nervous, and I felt that he was smiling greatly at my expense. Those who fight monsters should make certain that they do not become monsters themselves? Fine, if that is the case then I'll simply borrow a monstrous attribute then.
With a final breath, I made my move. With monstrous willpower, I summoned the courage to make the first move. With a short gesture, a spell was activated in an instant, and another explosion ripped through the alleyway. It raised the ground that I stood upon and brought the dust into the air. At that moment, I made my hasty escape, using magic to help me slide through the earth on my two feet.
I could not tell what the monster's expression was as I turned my head to look, or if he made his own move. Perhaps he was too surprise by the spectacle. However, with that brief glimpse as I made my escape, I saw from that darkness simple streaks of white.
Although I have escaped, the terror remained within me. I can still hear the monster's shrill and maniacal laughter within that shadowed alleyway. I can still smell the fetid decay of that corpse and the stench of blood. Amongst all these that I worry about the most, is the call that is beyond what any human or any terrestrial being can make. That voice of an angel, which seemed to draw me a state of lucid trance. It was like an obscure hypnosis technique that my experience as a magician could not counter, not that I wanted to counter the voice of the Lord's servant in the first place.
Within this trance, I followed the call of that angel, despite the maddening gnawing of that monster's legacy in my mind. I shambled through this City, and shuddering and run away from any shadowy halls, alleyways, and corners.
I have never really paid any attention during all this reverie; however, I felt that it was already night time.
By the time I have been pulled away from that the trance, with the sound of the angelic call slowly fading, I confirmed that it was night time. I was tired, and it was obvious from the pain on my legs and ankles that I have walked a considerable distance. It may have been due to the trance that I had after facing that monster. However, my vision was indistinct and I felt a little dazed with a slight fever. All in front of me, things were not what they seemed, and figures of probably mundane objects dance around my eyes in plain colors. My hearing did not help this at all, and I could only hear muffled sounds and whispers.
I rested and lumped my body down on what I believe is a grassy incline. I am unsure, but I believe I was near those artificial riverbanks, as I could slightly hear the sound of running water. Here, as is my duty, I waited for the Church's further instructions; however, I felt that I am waiting for something that will never happen.
As I rested, I did not dare close my eyes as those brief memories of me fighting the beast of the City come flooding back into my mind. The angel's calling has faded slightly, and it seemed that my tiredness is getting the best of me. In spite of all that I could muster, my body wanted to close my eyes.
It was but a moment that I finally gave in to the requests of my body, as I closed my eyes. Instantly those memories come rushing back, and in my dreams, I have become naked and defenseless against the demoniac sensations. Although his shrill and maddening screaming engulfed the sounds of my dreams, I can subtly hear a sound from the outside. It was a splashing and rushing sound of water. I am not sure what has happening throughout my abject terror as I am besieged by the monster's legacy. However, an intense cold feeling swept my already cold body. It relieved me of some those horrors somewhat, and eventually my willpower overcame those terrible memories. Perhaps I was drowning in a cold river in this City.
There, in my visions, I lied alone in infinite blackness. There was a sea of nothingness in every direction, and I fear that would soon drown in it as I was being drowned in water.
Suddenly, there was a bright light and I knew that I would be saved as the voice of that angel returned. I instinctively swam through that blazing light, I was weak and powerless but it will not prevent me from reaching the arms of the Lord's servant.
Finally, I have arrived in an unusual vista of color and sound, dissolving and eating one another creating new colors and sound. There at the center of those fantastic swirls of dreamy paint, is the origin of that angelic voice that called upon me. Perhaps I died and was now in heaven? Perhaps the angel was the single guardian of its elusive but grand gates? Perhaps the angel was my guardian?
What was her name?
She was seemingly ethereal in form. She wore a loose fitting robe over her slender and childish body. Her skin was stark white, and she was seemingly faint and translucent. Her face was androgynous and had an air of inexplicable age. Her visage reminded me in a queer way, as if she was a child and a woman at the same time. This strange androgyny was complemented by her long flowing hair that reached her thighs. All around her was golden glow, only fitting to have of an angel. Finally, her form as an angel was finally formed with a strange and peculiar halo on top of her head, with a strange crystalline prism being surrounded and revolved by smaller halos. It was indeed a glorious sight to behold, and I thought that if I were a heretic my entire existence would be erased by its mere sight.
I asked her if she was my guardian angel, and she replied that she is anything that I want her to be. She called upon me and I could not help but acquiesced to her call. As I approached her, I soon realized that her ethereal form could solidify and she could be touched. Finally, I arrived before her, naked and defenseless before her presence. I wanted to shy away from her, however, she insisted with her gestures to come closer. At that instant, my instincts automatically assumed control of my body, as I embraced her tightly in my tired arms. As I pulled away from her as so I can carefully examine her countenance, she gave me a light kiss on the forehead, which she slowly drew towards my lips. I could not deny her of my feelings and I allowed the angel to give a deeply powerful kiss. In that moment, it was as if my entire being collapse from within me, as an ecstasy I could scarcely describe ran all through my muscles. As a man, I instinctively pulled her thighs towards my own during the kiss, and I knew that she was willing to be one with me. This was indeed heaven to me; it was something that I truly deserved, and I thanked the Lord with this blessing.
For one final time, I look upon her indescribably beautiful face. Only I seemed to breathe heavily after that kiss, as the angel only continued to smile for me. She truly did not have the weaknesses of those mere humans like me. Her eyes gave an air of longing, as if she was waiting for me to be with her more.
I looked into her eyes, and asked her a question for I could not bear for that knowledge to elude me if I were to become one with the angel who called me.
I asked her a simple question: I asked her name.
She smiled and simply gave it to me. The answer was in a voice that was not of any terrestrial voice I have ever heard. It also seemed that the air around the ethereal dimension stretched just to accommodate the strange new aural laws that her voice introduced.
However, the voice that she was not the most terrifyingly maddening of that answer, but the answer to my question itself. She continued to smile, as I comprehended the terrible realization of my host. I was trapped with her in this unknowable dimension. The colors and sounds that painted dimension fell apart in all directions, and left a simple blackness.
I was trapped. I felt an unbelievable coldness that pierced my skin like needless the instant it turned black. I trapped myself in a hell that was beyond the mere dimensions that were described in the Bible. I did not even know why I was called upon by her, I did not even know she gave me loving caress and kiss, and there was seemingly no explainable reason for her actions. It was as if a mindless game. Nevertheless, I was trapped by the angel that was not just an angel, but also a demon. She looked like a saint and criminal, like a girl and boy, like a man and a woman, and I knew from those qualities that the angel was the mentor of the wickedest man in the world. The being before me was the angel of Thelma, and the origin of that fiendish tome—the Book of the Law. The angel that was calling me was named Aiwass.