Just Enough

CHAPTER 1

Good and evil, light and dark, angels and demons. They exist among us all, although they do not awaken our feeble mortal senses. They sleep among us, in our houses, in our hotels, and even on our streets. They breathe our air, they eat our food, and they drink our water. However, they live in solitude unlike the rest of us. They enjoy their silence and solitude in fear that one of us might discover them. But they live. One of us would never be able to tell, and our reason always overlooks our suspicion. Yes, we cannot see them, but yet we can feel them. They are here for a purpose, one in which we must discover.

JERUSALEM 7AD

The corpses of the hundreds of thousands slain litter the sand, their blood sinking into the dusty grains. The life sustaining fluid rains down on the battlefield like a summer shower, drenching the warriors that are magically still breathing. The moans of hundreds pollute the hot summer air, combined with the screams of freshly wounded fighters. They slump to the ground in heaps, piling on top of one another. Eyes of foes meet, glaring at each other until they finally glaze over. The hands of the defenders of the light meet as they take their last breath. Not one body is left without holes. They are everywhere. But the most surprising realization is the fact that the angels are losing. And the people can do nothing to stop it. They cannot see it. They cannot hear it. They are defenseless. The fall of Rome is imminent. The end of one of the greatest civilizations in history is near. Corruption and murder will scar the expansive history of the empire… and it will come to a crashing downfall. Satan was winning and the battle was almost over. Only a few recruits from both sides were still breathing, most of which were already on the ground struggling.

However, there was one angel still standing erect, unscathed. The light emanating from her flesh was disorienting, and only a select few demons could even get remotely close to it. Only the elite. Only the strong. A circle of fallen warriors of the dark surrounded the angel, too weak to even get within a five foot radius. All suffered puncture wounds, usually entering through the abdomen and exiting through their back. Their faces remained frozen, contorted in pain. And there they would remain, for there is no heaven or hell for angels or demons. Their souls remain in another dimension, completely disappearing from existence. Death for creatures of the afterlife was the last stand. They would no longer exist. Death was really the end. They had never been human, and they have also never had to die before. They are gone. Removed from history.

The glorious angel gruesomely impaled another low rank demon that dared to try to confront her. Her eyes filled with rage. Her comrades were gone, for the robes and armor of angels blanketed the ground next to the enemy. They did not deserve to be laid next to those heathens. No, they deserved to live. Dark red liquid streamed from the wound falling with other tissue on to the sand. The demon falls to his knees. Before he has a chance to beg for his life, the angel swiftly slices across his neck with the axe section of her pike. His head remains attached to his neck for a second, then slowly falls to the dirt. The remaining body makes one last twitch and then falls limply to land next to the severed head, which still posed the face of rage. Of hatred. The angel strides, almost glides, through the blood of her victim, adding another layer to her already blood soaked boot. Her robe is torn, tattered, and almost completely red. Her silver armor scratched and dented. She is the sole daughter of Mary of Bethlehem. The one the history books do not tell you about. She is Annamaria. And she is the strongest.

Her sky blue eyes slowly scanned the battleground, watching the last of her angel allies fall to the ground lifeless. There were only around 100 low level demons left standing, and they could not touch her. Her radiating light slowly dimmed as her fury subsided and her logic returned. She was alone. Nobody angel in the battle was left alive. She was the last of the elite. Annamaria surveyed the damage, assessing the casualties. All of the elites lay crippled on the ground. Christopher, Joshua, Anna… they were all gone. They had lost and heaven's army was crippled. She was the last elite, the last leader. She must leave. She once again glanced at the demons who were currently glaring at her menacingly. There was something strange. Something was amiss.

That's when she felt the presence behind her. Powerful, menacing, and most of all deadly. It radiated death. It smelled of angel's blood and freshly severed organs. This is why the demons did not ambush her. She was being preyed upon. She was going to be slaughtered like a lamb. He was strong, for he could get in close proximity to her small frame. He was an elite, a general for Lucifer. Her reactions not delayed for a moment, Annamaria started to rotate, her pike grasped tightly in her hands, ready to pierce a demon's cold flesh. Before she could move a significant amount, she felt a pressure in her stomach.

Her head, as if were an instinct, snapped back to face the sky. Her blue orbs widened. Her lips slowly parted, revealing her pearly white teeth. She was gone from herself, almost out of body. She heard a small noise come from her mouth, a mix between a squeak and a moan. But she did not feel pain, only a warm pressure. She remained in that position for a few short moments before slowly looking down towards the source of the pressure. What the angel saw scared her as if she were a lamb looking into the eyes of the coyote. Deep within her abdomen, a small, black point was protruding from her skin. Small droplets of blood were splattered across its surface; She watched as it slowly fell to the sand. Her blood stained the front of her robe, making a cylindrical pattern. She could not move; She only stood there.

There were arms around her, she realized. Those had not been there. These were not friendly arms, but the arms that have strangled the defenseless, the arms that have killed her brethren… The arms that wished to squeeze the life out of her. The defender of good started to slump as the pain and blood loss began to effect her coordination. The arms held her in place, though not gently. She was held as if a rag doll, only one of her arms being held by her murderer while the rest of her body slumped on the ground, her robe resting in wavelike patterns around her. Her liquid life force formed a pool beneath her frame, saturating her perfect crimson ringlets that were laid out on the sand, resembling one hundred desert serpents.

Annamaria did not understand. Why couldn't she move? Why couldn't she move her body? She had been stabbed hundreds of times before and she could always continue to fight back. She struggled, but to no avail. The only way to incapacitate an elite angel was to kill them, and he had only completed one of the stages. He had only stabbed her. She slowly glanced at her pike that had fallen beside her body as she slumped. She prayed to God for the gift of movement, yet that gift would not come. Why wasn't God here? Why wouldn't he help her?

The pike was suddenly picked up by a calloused, blood covered hand; she witnessed it rise until disappeared out of her limited view. However, she did not miss the screams of a lower rank demon being stabbed with her pike, only for the amusement of her killer. Her slight arm was finally released by her captor and the last part of her body fell to the ground with a thump. The sword was still in her back and the true pain started to saturate her bones. She hurt, and there was no amount of fight she could muster. She wanted to die; just wanted him to end it. The blade sunk deeper as he dropped the rest of her body, causing her to screech the sound of ultimate pain. Blood started to drip out of her mouth, staining her teeth and running down her jaw.

Mercilessly, her captor kicked her side, flipping her over as she were only a small pebble on a Sunday stroll in the park. Another blood curdling scream as the sword moved back out. Her killer slowly grasped the top of the blade. Annamaria felt her insides churn as he remorselessly rotated the blade before slowly pulling it out. She no longer had the energy to scream. He was going to kill her and that was going to be the end of it.

In an unknown language, she heard her murderer barking at someone, as if giving a command. Another demon slowly approached her, cautiously bending down. He looked at her with pure amusement, knowing that they had won the battle and savoring the murder of the last elite angel that heaven contained. The demon hastily started unlacing her armor, leaving Annamaria only in her robe. The wound was now more apparent than ever. The entire front of her ivory robe was stained in red, but not the blood of demons, but her own blood. Where her wound was there was a solid hole where the blade had entered through her back and exited through her abdomen. Stage one complete: stab the angel all the way through the body.

The lower demon retreated as her captor knelt down, sword still in hand. His cold, gloved hand brushed her cheek as he squeezed her jaw and turned her limp head to look at him.

"It's poisoned."

That was the only explanation she got and would ever get from the demon for her lifelessness. They had poisoned the sword with the blood of Lucifer. She could not move, nor would she be able to for hours. She was a goner, and she knew it. She slowly started reciting "The Lord's Prayer" in her mind, for her mouth could not articulate the words.

Our father who art in heaven…

As Annamaria recited her prayers in her slowly dimming consciousness, she examined her killer. If she was going to die and be placed in another dimension, she might as well know the face of her killer. He resembled a human, as she did. Even though he was crouched, she could infer that he was tall, muscular. His face was angular, with sharp features and piercing forest green eyes that were filled with hatred and the memories of lost souls. His straight black hair framed his face and tumbled down his back. His armor covered everything else. Black and silver, the colors of the devil.

He slowly leaned over, placing his sword at the base of her neck. Tears started rolling down her cheeks, mixing with the blood that had gathered in the creases of her face. She was the daughter of Mary of Bethlehem, she should not be crying, but yet, she could not help it. Death was frightening and inevitable, unworldly creature or not. The demon swiftly sliced, leaving an open gash in her neck. One could hear the air whistling in and out as some escaped from her open neck and she breathed. Quite simply a sickening sound. The sound of death. Stage two complete: slit the throat of the angel.

Though they were not vampires, in certain situations the demons, especially the elite, must drain their victims of blood. The demon took her wrist in his hands, making a gash in her wrist with his fingernail. A few trickles of leftover blood dripped out. His full lips slowly approached the gash. His lips were cold; she could tell as he slowly pressed them against the gash. He quickly began to suck. Then the world went black….

Hey guys! So, just let me tell you. This is what happens when Dobie gets bored in health class after she forgets her abstinence book. Please comment! I don't even know if my writing is good! xD I've just started and i've got a very interesting plot line....if I can remember it until tomorrow. Enjoy! :D