Just in case someone is offended - no insult to the Christian faith is intended with this story.
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Vibrations rippled through the air, tearing the atmosphere asunder so the darkness could seep in. It entered the bedroom, smoky trails that slid and slithered over her flesh, surrounding her in black silk. Her pulse quickened, fear settling in her lungs until she gasped for breath.
He was coming.
The clock on the wall ticked down the seconds, each click a stark reminder of how fast time passed and how little was left for her. A miscalculation somewhere along the way, she should have been long gone by now.
Her focus returned to her task and her feet flew over the plush carpet towards the dying woman. Approaching the grand canopied bed, piled high with exotic colored blankets, she froze in horror.
There was no body. No soul to save. Only a single blood rose on the pillow.
"Caroline."
She turned at the whisper, innocence ensnared by evil - fly to the spider, she was trapped in his web at last.
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One week earlier
Bleach, antiseptic and decay suckled at the fresh oxygen in the exam room at Mercy Hospital in Nashville, Tennessee. The noxious mixture stung Robert Jameson's nostrils and throat, bringing tears to his sunken cheeks. He recognized the smell. Remembered it well from when his mother's body rotted from the inside out.
Death. It resided in this room.
He tried to flee, thrashing his body from side to side, trying to escape the tentacles of the flashing and beeping machines bound to his flesh. For his efforts he received a flicker of a finger, a tensing of his wrist. Excruciating pain racked his thin frame and a sound he didn't recognize creaked from his throat. He ached bone deep, every limb pulled so tight that with every breath that trickled from his chest, it seemed ligaments severed and muscles splintered.
A nurse, bespectacled with stringy hair, her features impassive, approached him. "It won't be long now."
Robert Jameson argued, told her it wasn't true and to get another doctor in here. Did she know who he was? He could buy this whole hospital three times over, could even have her fired from her job for these lies.
Unable to hear his curses the nurse turned a key, punched some buttons on one of the monstrous machines and he started to float.
"He's not suffering is he?"
"Of course not, mother. The doctors and nurses know what they're doing."
Looking to his left, he saw them at last. His wife, openly weeping into her hands while their son held her. Yes, his son, John. The vulture he disowned years ago stared back at him, a look of triumph in his eyes. Rage erupted in Robert, battling back the effects of the drugs and some of the haze dissipated.
Then he saw her.
Golden. Glowing with light. The most beautiful thing he ever encountered. Dressed in a white gown, a waterfall of sunshine colored hair flowing over her shoulders, she looked right at him with brilliant blue eyes. He waited for the nurse, his wife or even his son to greet her. Only, they took no notice. Blind. The fools were blind. How could they not see the woman who glided towards him with the elegant grace of a ballerina?
Caroline approached the dying man, her heart softening with pity at what remained of the once mighty businessman. Already a corpse, his skin was waxy and grey, the whites of his eyes bloodshot and the muscles in his body ropey and strained from convulsions. Little remained of the imposing man, once a force to be reckoned with.
Robert Jameson, by sheer will power alone, dragged himself out of poverty to amass a fortune. Blackmailing those in power, cooking up crooked gambling schemes and utilizing mob connections he managed to climb the ladder rung by rung. Once at the top he bought respectability, landed a high society wife and had a son. A son that would ultimately follow in his father's footsteps, tarnishing the reputation Robert Jameson worked so hard to attain. Now in death, his wife would gift his prodigal son his empire.
"Are…are you an angel?"
Caroline heard his thought buzzing through his mind and she nodded.
"You can read my mind?"
"Yes."
His brain electrified, the neurons and receptors swarming to comprehend this reality. "I'm not ready to go yet. I have work to do."
"Your work is over, Robert. Now it's time for your reckoning."
"Didn't you hear me? I'm not done yet."
Caroline sighed. His type never understood until they saw the truth laid bare for them. Laying her hand on his chest, she closed her eyes and cleared her head, focusing all of her energy on him. She pictured the empty husk of his body, deepening her view until she could see bones, blood flowing through veins and at last right into the heart where the soul lay.
She plucked it out, opening her eyes to see it hovering over his chest. Orb like in shape and small enough to fit in her palm, it didn't have a single patch of white. Sooty black, slick and oily without even a splatter of grey, it spoke of a life of sin and misdeed. Caroline read every one of them, searching for something between the lines, something hidden that would redeem him and send him home. Even with such a dark taint, once the soul was white and pristine and she dug deeper into the muck and grime for a sign. She didn't want to lose him to Hell.
"Is that me? My life?" He didn't wait for her to answer, he already knew. "Have you come to take me to heaven?"
If only she could.
Guessing his fate, his face crumpled, more tears leaking from his eyes. The voice in his head, it whispered of regret and sorrow. For the first time in decades Robert knew humility. His entire life exploded into thoughts that bucked and jostled against each other in the whirlwind of his mind and Caroline caught a glimpse of a child. A child, before the loss of innocence, one that yearned for a parent's love and care. Raised by a drug addicted mother always looking for another high and a father that spent most of his time in and out of prison this young soul sought refuge once in prayer. A prayer of selflessness, offering to give up of himself anything necessary to have his parents whole.
It would have to be enough.
Robert's breath gurgled in his throat, the death rattle starting in his chest leaving Caroline with little precious time. A devil would be here soon to collect his soul.
Words of prayer floated to her ear and upwards to heaven, an old request for a blessing he must have learned long ago.
"Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I shall die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take."
Caroline cupped the soul in her hands. Reaching out to heaven, she tapped into the light she carried, the gift she was blessed with. The soul pulsed and shuddered, the blackness peeling away to reveal blinding white underneath and the hospital room exploded with the bright rays of a thousand suns.
"So beautiful," Robert murmured, the effort causing blood and spittle to gather in the corners of his mouth. His wife rushed to his bedside, hoping to catch his last words. Only it was too late. With a smile of wonder on his face, his heart ceased to beat.
Stepping away from the bed, Caroline held the soul fast. It belonged to her now. At least until she brought it to heaven where it would know peace and happiness before being reborn. Robert Jameson would have another chance at life, a chance to choose another path. More than pleased at her days work, Caroline itched to dance, to lift her feet in joy to music. Elijah would be so happy when she brought the news of this success. Not only was this soul coming home, it was one written off as a loss long ago. A win against the forces of evil, she had proven herself and her place among the angels once more.
Caroline shook out her wings that resided magically within her. They arched high and white in the room, almost touching the ceiling. About to flick them and return to heaven, she caught a flash of reflected light. A quick search found the source. One of the more luxurious hospital residences, this one came outfitted with a dresser for clothes and above it a mirror. Confronted by the looking glass, she tried not to look. For it was a vanity not allowed in Heaven. Oh, but she craved it, longed to see her image. Another example of her inability to measure up to the Angelic standards set forth by her peers.
Burying her guilt at her small sin, she took a peak, startled to find herself looking back at her. At first she merely smiled at her reflection, then growing bolder she waggled her eyebrows and then with a giggle she stuck out her tongue. It was all so silly, but it fascinated her.
Her fun ended with a distant roar. Vibrations sent small shocks of energy prickling over her skin. A devil was entering the atmosphere, coming for the soul. She had yet to ever meet one of Hell's spawn and she had no wish to do so today. With a flutter of her wings she flew straight out of the hospital room, up to the sky and back to heaven.
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"What do you mean, you were too late?" Klaus threw the crystal goblet he drank from moments ago into the fireplace. Glass shattered, red and orange flames leapt, blackening and crackling. Shadows crept against the wood paneled walls of his study, servants and courtiers who shivered and scattered to the corners.
"Out! Everyone out!" Long skirts swished, heels clicked and leather soles shuffled on the marble floors. "Except you, brother."
Finn heaved a sigh.
Klaus waited until the heavy, gold doors of his study slammed shut before turning around to face his brother. He couldn't afford any witnesses to the conversation about to take place.
"I'm sorry. The soul was taken," Finn apologized, black smoke from his travels still curling of the light blue tunic and brown cape he wore.
"Another one stolen?" Rage billowed inside Klaus, hazing his vision and he fisted his hands to keep from strangling his brother. Finn might be older by several years, but he was no match for Klaus. Something proven many times in combat with swords and fists. "How could you let it happen again?"
Finn froze at Klaus's fury.
"Do you have any idea what will happen if Mikael finds out that souls marked for us have managed to slip through our grasp? He will send minions to investigate and if they find even a hint of our plot, he will not hesitate to destroy us. And where would that leave Sage?"
His brother started at the name of his beloved, a wild look of distress in his eyes. "Forgive me. I swear I will get the next one."
"Your promises are empty. This is what — the 23rd soul lost to heaven? And this one was marked for us. It should have been easy."
"It isn't my fault."
"Not your fault?" Klaus threw back at him. "All you have to do is collect them."
"I can't collect them if they are purified," Finn argued, his tone bordering defiant. "Only the angels can."
Klaus stalked towards the cabinet that held his collection of brimstone wine. "I know that." He needed a drink, something to dull the rage that still rumbled in him.
Pouring another crystal goblet full of the fiery liquid, he swallowed it with one gulp. It burned, scorched a path down his throat, allowing him a moments respite from his anger. Pouring his goblet full again he repeated the action to fill another glass, carrying it to Finn.
"But how are they doing it?" Offering his brother the drink as a peace offering, Klaus continued, "The souls they are coming after are corrupted beyond repair."
"It is an angel responsible, I am sure of it." Finn took a swallow of the wine, eyeing Klaus warily over the top of his goblet. "I can feel them…the warmth and light they leave behind. It is like nothing else I have ever experienced."
Klaus sipped at his drink, savoring the burning taste rolling over his tongue before speaking, "This new weapon of theirs, we have to stop it."
"But how? They always manage to get to the soul before me."
"I sense Elijah's hand in this. It would give him great pleasure to thwart and make a fool of Mikael with every soul he steals. And, I imagine it appeals to his sense of gentlemanly honor that everyone be given a fair chance at redemption," Klaus scoffed.
"That does sound like him."
"You know where to find him, don't you?"
Finn choked on the swallow of brimstone wine he just took.
Klaus shrewdly observed the color heighten in his brother's face until even his ears were tipped pink.
Hesitating to answer, Finn walked to the long, carved banquet table, in the center of the room. He set his goblet down amongst the china, silver and linens. "It has been a long time since I have spoken with him. I am not sure he is even in the same place anymore."
"I doubt that. Elijah has always been habitual in his choices. Almost predictable."
"Like I said, I haven't visited him in a while. Not since she —"
"Yes, I know, " Klaus interrupted with annoyance. Of course, it was Sage that brought the two brothers together, even temporarily. It bordered on ridiculous, scandalous even. Finn's love and devotion to that woman was a source of embarrassment to them all. The Original Devils, the ruling family of Hell didn't love, they took what they pleased, consuming it until sated, moving on to the next.
"Did you really think Elijah could or would help you?" Klaus demanded.
"I had hoped…"
"Hoped, what? That he and an angelic army would storm the gates of Hell, all to force Mikael to return Sage to you?"
Finn stared at him, a mulish cast to his face and Klaus suppressed a laugh. That is exactly what his brother thought. "You wouldn't be in this position if you would get over this obsession of yours. No lower caste demon spawn is worthy of such trouble."
"You don't get it. What I feel for Sage isn't obsession, it is love. I love her and I always will."
This time Klaus couldn't contain his laughter. Mocking and harsh, it brought a scowl to Finn's mouth.
"Don't confuse lust with love. What you feel for Sage is between the woman's shapely legs."
"Speak of her that way again and swear I will —."
Klaus prowled towards his brother, his brimstone wine sloshing in his goblet, but never spilling over the side. "You will what? I am your only friend and ally here. You need me if you ever hope to see her again."
Finn didn't back down at his approach. To Klaus's surprise he looked quite ready to attack him. His brother vibrated tension, a mechanical toy wound too tight and ready to burst if released. For a split second, Klaus considered what he would do if his brother actually attacked him, how he would make him pay, but by the time he listed off the third punishment, Finn was taking deep breaths to calm himself.
"And you need me to destroy our father."
The words spoken so softly, had more power than if shouted from the gates of Hell. By sheer force of will, Klaus calmed the rising tides of anger ever present at the use of Mikael's familial title. "Don't call him that."
"Why?" Finn retorted, his courage for once not fleeting. "Is it the reality of the fratricide we intend or your hurt feelings that father favors everyone but you that bothers you so much?"
The truth resonated deep within, battering against the iron walls he erected around his heart long ago. "Mikael doesn't deserve to rule," Klaus spat.
"And you do?"
"Who better than I?"
They were having this conversation at last. Throwing down the gauntlet, Klaus glared at Finn until his brother withered under his gaze.
"You will return Sage to me?"
Klaus shook his head with disgust at Finn's folly. If he had his way he would have the woman exiled to earth, forcing his brother to slake his desire with the other females of Hell until he no longer remembered Sage existed. Whatever Finn felt for this woman weakened him, turned him into a liability and Klaus couldn't afford that.
"Sage will be yours," Klaus agreed.
"Swear it." Finn reached for the small dagger he always carried at his side. "A blood oath. Once Mikael is defeated you will set her free."
"You won't take my word for it?"
Finn stared directly at Klaus, unsheathing his dagger. "I would be a fool to."
"All of this for a woman? What happened to you?"
"I found happiness." Finn grimaced, breath hissing from between his lips as he sliced into his palm. Blood drops spattered one by one to the floor. "You should try and find yours."
"I will be happy the day Mikael kneels before my throne."
His brother shoved the dagger at Klaus. "Do it."
Klaus set his drink down on the table and reluctantly took the blade. Made of demon bone and steel forged in Hell's fires it carried with it a magic even he couldn't manipulate. This was a new side to Finn he had never seen before or ever expected. His newfound glimmer of respect towards his older brother caught him off guard.
"If that is what will put your mind at ease." Without the slightest reaction, Klaus elegantly cut into his own palm. Ruby red blood bubbled up from the wound, undulating its way down his hand and wrist.
"It is." Finn clasped their hands together, intermingling their blood, smearing it over their palms in a sacred, magical act. "Promise Sage to me."
Sneering slightly, Klaus inwardly ranted and raved at his brother's folly. Ultimately, he had no choice. If he was ever to have a chance at overthrowing Mikael he needed Finn at his side. "Fine. Sage will be yours"
Rays of relief radiated Finn's face. The lines of worry that seemed permanently carved around his eyes, smoothed. "Thank you."
Klaus yanked his hand from Finn's grasp. Already the cut in his skin was healing, the flesh stitching itself together. Soon his palm would be completely healed without even a scar to show for this ridiculous display. He picked up a linen table napkin from the banquet table, already laid out in readiness for the dinner meal.
"I need you to falsify the records again. There can be no written recording of this latest soul incident." With a flourish Klaus wiped away the blood from his hand as he walked towards the fireplace. He tossed the fabric into the fire. The flames roared and crackled, devouring the magical evidence of the oath. One could never be too careful and Klaus wasn't about to be betrayed by his own blood.
"I will do my best. It is harder now than it used to be." Finn joined Klaus, throwing his own blood stained napkin to the flames. "Thoth is always watching…I wonder if he has suspicions."
"Make them go away."
"How exactly would you like me to do that?"
"Figure it out," Klaus snapped. "That is your job."
When his brother didn't reply, Klaus turned sharply to face him. "Don't lose your courage now. There is Sage to think of, remember."
"So you want me to kill him?"
"If it comes to that, yes." Klaus stared hard at Finn, wondering not for the first time how far his brother would go for his love. Did that extend to murdering Hell's ancient archivist? "I would prefer, however, that you attempt to feel him out. Find out where his loyalties lay in regard to Mikael's newest scheme. Thoth would be more beneficial as an asset rather than a corpse."
"And what are you going to do while I risk my neck with Thoth?"
"I shall do what you haven't been able to. Figure out who is stealing our souls and put a very painful end to it."
Finn blanched and Klaus knew his brother remembered exactly how much he excelled at the art of torture. Strangely enough, he had Mikael to thank for that. The King of Hell always found sport in seeing how much pain Klaus could take.
"I am going to need to know where you met Elijah" Klaus laid a heavy hand on his brother's shoulder, a physical reinforcement giving Finn no choice in his betrayal. Maybe this way he wouldn't wallow in it later on.
Finn nodded slowly, accepting his reality. "Switzerland. There is a small cottage there that I believe he frequents."
"Switzerland?" Klaus couldn't help it, he released his brother's shoulder and threw his head back and laughed. The uproarious sound brought a twinge of a smile to Finn's face. "That is perfect. How like Elijah to choose neutral ground that by historic international standards actually is neutral ground. He must still be enamored with humans."
"I believe so."
"Perfect." Klaus smirked at this bit of information. It gave him excellent blackmail material to get exactly what he needed from his angelic brother. "Where did you lose the Robert Jameson soul?"
"Mercy Hospital in Nashville, Tennessee."
"Then that is where I am going."
"What do you hope to find?" Finn asked, his brows arching with surprise. "The soul is gone."
"Evidence."
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Arriving at Robert Jameson's hospital room, Klaus snapped his black, feathered wings back inside himself. His lip curled with annoyance at finding the pious and kind widow, Heather Jameson sobbing in her son's arms. Tiny and thin, with fading blonde hair knotted on her head, she could barely hold herself upright. Involved for years with her church, active with charity work and a generous benefactor to Nashville's poor she would never step foot in hell.
The son, John, he was well on his way. Kol and his subordinates were actively working on claiming this one and Klaus would make sure that they didn't lose it. That the parents in the afterlife would be forever separated from the child didn't bother Klaus in the least. Someone had to pay for the stolen soul. It was fair punishment for the havoc and trouble the loss of Robert Jameson's soul had wrought in Klaus's life.
Not wishing to waste any more time, he walked over to the corpse. His nostrils flared at the light and delicate floral fragrance that perfumed the air. Jasmine, gardenias and lilies it was fading already. Staring down at the empty shell left of Robert Jameson, he felt not even a twinge of pity. The man deserved a painful death and from the way his feeble bones were twisted in the thin, cotton hospital gown, it had been very painful, still he died with a smile.
Whichever angel was overstepping their bounds, purifying the damned that should belong in Hell, he would make them pay. They said you couldn't kill one of God's own, but Klaus was more than willing to try. For if Mikael ever found out about the stolen souls, he would dig deeper and what he found would be enough to bring war to Hell. A war that Klaus wouldn't be able to win. Not yet.
A ray of sunshine burst through the small hospital room window, caught something with its light on the dead man's chest. A single long gold hair. It shone and sparkled, almost competing with the sun. How could one strand of hair carry so much brilliance within it? Picking it up, Klaus let it curl in the palm of his hand. It came from the angel. He knew it. Find the owner and he would have his soul stealer and his next victim.
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This story was inspired by a collaboration banana71588 and I considered writing together a long time ago.
I need to thank Christina (To be loved is to be destroyed) for making me the cover and editing the chapter.
If anyone is interested in helping me edit further chapters, send me a message here or at my tumblr. Thanks.