Hello, my lovelies! I am here to announce that the Dynamic Duo is back! I have once again teamed up with the lovely and talented Brenli to co-write Morning Star!
BRENLI'S COAUTHORESS NOTE: AWWWWWWWWWW SNAP. You bitches knew that the Awesome Duo would come together again, didn't you? Of course you did. And we are indeed a force to be reckoned with. FEAR US.
Now, before I begin… I must make note that with my… introduction into MS (Oh you laugh it up, just laugh it UP 'cause I don't care. XD), there are other characters that have been pulled into the storyline, now. The one that everyone is at least somewhat familiar with is Astaroth. Or, as I shall affectionately call him, my lil AzzyRoth. XD Now, mentioning his very name is enough of a warning for the people that are knowledgeable enough. He's everyone's favorite bloodthirsty sadist, le Marquis de la Crainte, the Marquis of FEAR! XD So I do have a lot of work ahead of me. I'm scared but willing to tackle the challenge. BUT, because I know that some of the readers of the world can only handle so much, I am issuing a FORMAL WARNING. (Oh yes. You know something's gonna be intense I feel like I have to forewarn people.)
This story will deal with difficult topics involving the level of Astaroth's insanity, abuse of varying levels, torture, sadism and masochism (in particular the practice of knife play), blood fetishism, and POSSIBLY rape and attempted suicide.
I SWEAR I'M SANE. I SWEAR IT. O.o (And for the readers that knows about Layers – keep your man panties on. I'm still working on it. DX)
Morning Star
By 24ko and Brenli
Chapter 2
Pencils. Pencils and pens scribbled and danced little dark trails all over sheets of paper. 27 in all, these pencils and pens. They belonged to students at the college level, hurrying to complete a mid-term. The essay topic? Satanism and its prevalence among the humans of Assiah. A touchy topic for many human beings.
But for an Angel… one could consider this standard.
There was a 28th student. The dark heel of her brown leather shoe beat against the white linoleum floor, her blue pen resting between her fingers and her soft cheek. The pen left a tiny blue dot upon that cheek, a blue freckle to match her eyes. She didn't care.
She wasn't an incredibly smart student. That was not the reason why she beat her heel against the floor and stared at the clock. This was her SECOND time taking this course – Modern Influence of the Dark King and the Satans, or, as often shortened, Modern Evils. She already knew how to ace the mid-term with flying colors, and she had finished early. She merely stayed because her professor wanted to speak with her after class.
However, this 28th student was not a stupid girl, either. It is not often than an Angel takes on the duty and honor of becoming a Guardian Angel while still studying in the Academy, largely because the job takes up too much of one's time – That the 28th student had not dropped out of the Academy is a strange thing, indeed.
At last, the tiny buzzer on the professor's desk gave out a shrill, nasty sound, and the professor said with a regal voice, "Pencils down. Pass your exams to the front of each row and I'll collect them."
But the 28th student kept her mid-term in her hands, ready to hand it to the professor in person. She may as well, right? The professor HAD asked to speak with her after class, after all.
"Osmadiel," The professor said warmly. This was the second time he had been given the opportunity of having this overworked college Angel in his classroom, and by now he was on vaguely friendly terms with her. The kind of friendship a mentor lends to a familiar pupil. "I see the mid-term was easy this time around?" He tapped an upside-down pentagram with a wry smile. "Lord have mercy on you. Sacrilegious symbols on your mid-term. I should downgrade you for this."
"Do it, then." Osmadiel said lightly, unconcerned about what effect that might have on her grade. "We studied the symbols of the mid-term. Now you are fully aware that I know exactly what they are."
"So I should give you extra credit. Is that what you're implying?"
"No. It won't matter." Osmadiel tucked her shining, pale blonde strands behind her ear as an idle gesture, taking a moment to steel herself for what was next.
"About that. I have heard that you're going to formally withdraw from this class." The professor's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I have heard that you're withdrawing from all of your classes."
"I'm not dropping out…?"
"PLEASE try to sound more firm in your argument. You're a clever girl and you could pass on to higher ranks if only you would finish your schooling."
A very tiny pout pursed the pink lips on Osmadiel's child-like face, still carrying little pouches of baby fat on her cheeks. "At least I have a very good reason. My Guarded needs my attention."
"So much so, that you have decided to take a break? You were juggling the two duties marvelously so far."
She merely shook her head. "The Dark King has been in very close proximity to my Guarded. I have to go down and keep closer watch."
Her professor let out a low whistle. "You must be careful, Osmie," his concern leaked out in the form of her common nickname, "Where the Devil lingers there are accompanying evils."
"I'll be as careful as I can be." That was the best any Angel could say when dealing with the prospect of being in close proximity to Lucifer, the Dark King.
The professor understood this, so he could only nod and wave his pupil away. "Then I gather today is your last day," he spoke casually, just the same.
Osmie replied with a nod. "I have all the paperwork signed and ready. The only thing that's left is the… going." She shrugged her pale shoulders.
"Good luck." The professor wished her well, and a smile crinkled his eyes. "Hurry back in time for the next quarter. This class will be at 8:30 AM and I'll have the grades from all your previous work saved for you."
How kind of him to keep her work instead of deleting it like most would have. Osmie grinned widely in response as she said, "The third time's a charm, right? I'll actually get through the second half of the class!"
"I hope so. I'm getting tired of seeing your face and reading your horrible handwriting." He laughed and waved her away again.
This time, Osmie left, a light, easy laugh flowing out of her mouth. But she laughed more out of habit at the moment, making a beeline straight for home, straight for her packed bags and the paperwork for her tiny one-bedroom apartment in the ghetto of the Big City. However much Osmie may have liked the idea of meeting her Guarded, meeting Juno Monahan… she hoped that she wouldn't have to see her long. That she could somehow drive the Dark King away from her and allow Juno to return to a… less supernaturally-charged life. Goodness knows that the last thing Juno needed was to deal with a world full of winged, powerful people…
oOo
Astaroth was never a man that had claimed to find any real GOOD with a place like Assiah… or, Earth. Whichever it was he should call it. But he would call it either or, depending on what he felt like. Let anyone that found this unacceptable take it up with him. Or try.
As it were, Astaroth never thought that Assiah could hold anything GOOD. And by good, he meant anything that would have appealed to him.
It's nothing against Earth, though. There is very little, if ANYTHING, that Astaroth can find appealing. People, for example. ANY people. Those were perhaps one of the most unappealing things of all.
Especially then they were dirty, disillusioned street punks with god complexes. God? Please. Astaroth knew God. Astaroth HATED God as much as he hated anything else, which was a great… GREAT deal. But humans… measly HUMANS thinking they could be as great AS God? BE God? They wished. Astaroth would sooner take that position… with great relish and carnage. Carnage like dirty street punks with their heads smashed in.
OOPS? Never. Astaroth had meant to slam their heads together that hard on PURPOSE. That's what they get for asking for… money. What a funny thing. Street punks feeling like God, asking for money. Didn't they know? Gods don't ever need money.
He tapped the two bodies with the steel toe of his black boot, wondering of the bodies would twitch. Sometimes they did, you see. But he was given nothing but an outpouring of blood, dark reddish fluid pooling out around the two smashed heads.
It was not enough. It was never enough. A sneer curled itself onto his lips and he moved his hand in a small circle, a twisting of the wrist, and summoned up for himself his favorite weapon – his axe. He took a private joy in the swinging of the axe, in the splitting of flesh and bone, the squishing and crushing of the all-too-fragile, human bodies.
He could say this much about Assiah, Earth – the people here were GREAT for killing purposes. So the Earth had THAT much going for it, at least.
Astaroth stopped when a stray, brown eyeball rolled dangerously close to his foot. He stepped on it, relishing the squishing sound, and dropped the bloody axe, stripped off the blood-splattered, black trench coat.
Then he turned and left, dropping one bloodied glove, then the other as he left the alleyway. That had been good sport for his idle mind, but their death were not what he was here for.
He was here for Lucifer… the Dark King. But certainly not for long. Leave it to a selfish tyrant like Lucifer to hold claim to his title and never come back home…! Astaroth was all too aware of how just SELFISH the man was. He was the kind of man that would hold his tiny whims over the larger… much more important personal pains… like a dead sister…
BUT NOT FOR LONG! Soon he would have the Dark Fool on his knees and begging to the Marquis of Fear to take the accursed crown and forgive him his errors. And Astaroth? He would take that crown, but he would laugh. He would LAUGH and rip Lucifer into pieces. Slowly, of course. He must enjoy every tiny tendon, every miniscule pore on his skin as it stretched and then ripped. He must revel in Lucifer's screams, and surely he WOULD scream. Beg for forgiveness. He should have let him mourn. He should have let him…!
Ah, but the Marquis couldn't let himself get too caught up in the dreams. Oh no. He knew better than anyone that dreams only come true if you pursue them. You have to make that effort. You have to actually DO something. Right now, that entailed taking in the air, tasting for the Dark King's presence. He knew he was close… somewhere with many humans.
An interesting development. Since when did Lucifer mingle with the pitiful people of this world? Was that what he had left Sheol behind for? That fucking asshole. He really should have just given the damn crown to him, then. But then again, things would have played out a lot less adventurously –
What was that? Astaroth paused, not two blocks away from his most recent murder, and inhaled slowly. A new taste in the air… something almost sugary. But no Fallen Angel had ever carried such a spiritual… aura. Something that denoted such… sweetness. A purity.
… A PURE ANGEL WAS NEAR.
oOo
"… Spicy. Spice. Tastes like… spice." Osmie had to remind herself as she stepped along in silver, strappy heels and tugged on the hot pink fabric that was her mini-dress. She knew that any Fallen Angel would carry a certain kind of spiciness, a muskiness, to their energy, and was keen enough to track down such an energy from a local nightclub. She had dressed accordingly… she assumed. She'd looked around at the passersby, but everyone wore coats. She noticed that she was being eyed a great deal for her lack of coat… Curses. She'd remember to bring one, next time. But the temperature here didn't seem PARTICULARLY cold, to her.
Perhaps this was a modesty issue? In Heaven, such a dress was only worn privately. Maybe it was the same for Assiah? But that would seem all too silly. The humans often watched women in such dresses on their television sets and thought nothing of it… was this the sort of outfit only to be worn on television?
The energy suddenly seemed to double, but Osmie paid it no mind. Her daydreaming was a terrible habit and she needed to remain FOCUSED, here. Her attention to idle mental pondering may have dulled her sensitivity to the Dark King's energy. Though she could not recall his energy ever being quite THIS strong, before… Was someone else –
She did not have the time to finish her own thought. An unseen force pulled her into the narrow space between two brick buildings and THREW her against a wooden fence. She caught herself before the wooden planks could snap, overwhelmed. Had the Dark King caught on and found her? A long, lanky but strong arm encircled her body, pinning her arms to her torso… The sharpness of a blade bit at her neck.
"I knew I sensed PURITY nearby." Astaroth was overwhelmed with the energy. This sweetness was something he had not sensed in hundreds of years. The Angel was very young. No way could she have been a full-fledged adult for long. Sweet, young, innocent... Disgusting. He wanted to tear her apart. "Are you mute?" He snarled and turned her to face him. A child! Rounded little cheeks and a permanent pout. A child's face! No way had she been an adult for long, no way.
"You're not the Devil." Those were the first words she spoke to him, blue eyes wide and fearful as they took in the long, blood-red hair. Red. Lucifer's hair was black, his eyes were gray. This man's eyes were… a rich amber color, multidimensional gold. Molten with hatred.
He said nothing, a growl issuing from deep within his throat as the sharp edge of his knife traced along the edges of her face. She kept her eyes trained to those gold orbs and suddenly pieced together two things.
Firstly… he looked about ready to carve her face off.
Secondly… she remembered his picture in the schoolbooks. This was Astaroth… Satan of Sloth. The Marquis of Fear.
And he obviously lived up to his title very well. Gold eyes settled on blue ones, and she could not look away. Some strange new look came into the amber eyes, made them widen…
Because she was staring at him.
Astaroth did the first thing he thought of – THROW the bitch away. When she gasped at the impact against the fence, he got back on the right track. HURT THE BITCH. MAKE HER WISH SHE'D NEVER LOOKED HIM IN THE EYES. MAKE IT SO THAT SHE'D NEVER LOOK INTO HIS EYES AGAIN! He pinned her against the fence, his knife poised and ready for a clean strike at the center of her throat.
But then she grabbed at his arm and shoved it aside while twisting, and the blade only met weak wood.
WHAT WAS THIS??? DEFIANCE??? She had NO way of beating him! NONE! "GIVE UP NOW!" He roared, only to be taken aback when she answered him, her blue eyes still piercing into his gold ones:
"NEVER."
NEVER??? NEVER, she says! He'll show her! He pinned her to a brick wall, and the blade sat RIGHT against her throat. He watched as the skin bent inward… not yet tearing… not yet. "STUPID ANGEL…" His voice came out in a growl, his breath warm against her face, "What use is it fighting against the Marquis? Hmm? What use is it? You should know better…" And he was back to running the blade against the soft curve of her cheek.
"I have bigger priorities than this…" She breathed out, the blue eyes still piercing into him, FOREVER piercing into him. Wide and frightened.
"HAH!" Astaroth's laugh was short, rough. He pulled her away from the brick wall only to slam her against it again. The bricks scratched against her skin and tore at the flesh, and Osmie hissed at the pain, her back arching. "What's more important to a Pure Angel than her own sorry life?"
"LUCIFER." Osmie managed to groan against the pain.
This only spurred more laughter, something higher in pitch. He slammed her against the brick wall again. This time, Osmie cried out a tiny bit, but still she STARED. "What is he to ANY Pure Angel?"
"HE'S TOO CLOSE TO MY GUARDED! NOW LET ME GO!" Osmie felt the blow against her face. For a very brief moment, she thought the sharp pain had come of the blade of his knife. But the pain settled in a hot patch over her face. She'd been hit, yes, but only with the back of his strong hand. The pain sent corresponding shivers to her body. Signals, she was sure. Signals to be aware that soon he WOULD use the blade of the knife against her skin, and not just backhand her.
The knife was poised, this time, just under one blue eye. His amber orbs dared to meet her gaze… CHALLENGING her to keep on looking right at him. "Your Guarded, you say?" He prodded her flesh with the sharp tip. "Answer or I'll take out those pretty eyes you keep STARING at me with."
"What else can I say? The Dark King needs to stay AWAY from my Guarded. You'd do well to tell him tha-" She endured another immense shiver of pain as he slammed her into the bricks once more.
"NEVER. TELL ME. WHAT TO DO." Astaroth grumbled each syllable slowly, making absolutely sure Osmie understood him. "I don't want Lucifer around, either."
Crystal blue eyes stared at him boldy, even as they remained wide in fear. "… You don't." She seemed skeptical, and that awarded her another slap to her face. The impact spurred another gasp from her.
"NO, I DON'T. YOU BEST BELIEVE THAT." The Satan snarled and stared, the edge of the knife tapping against her face. He was thinking… and Osmie could not be sure if that was a good thing. "I have an idea, Puppet."
Her blue eyes narrowed into slits. "The name is Osmie."
"Puppet, Osmie." Astaroth's shoulders shrugged, careless. "I have an idea. We'll get rid of Lucifer. We'll kill him."
A frown instantly formed on Osmie's face. "I don't want to take it THAT far –"
"WE'RE GOING TO KILL HIM. Lest you would rather I kill you right now." A slow smile twisted the Marquis' features into something sinister and cruel. "We'll both get what we want. After that… we'll see if I still want you alive or not."
"… THAT'S it? That's your idea?" Osmie's voice quivered, tentative and terrified.
"I like it. It's a good idea."
"HARDLY!" Shivery adrenaline made her flail against his hold. He only slammed her once, twice, THREE times against the bricks. She cried out each time and felt heat along any bare skin subject to this brutality. Bleeding. Surely she was bleeding.
"It's the only offer you really HAVE. Be my Puppet and I'll let you live longer. Refuse… and I'll just kill you now." With that, he pressed the blade against her throat again. "Which do you choose? Death now or later?"
Now, he was not quite so merciful with the blade. He allowed it to slice her delicate flesh JUST so. A low, strangled groan escaped and morphed into a shaky breath… but those eyes. Those big blue eyes. They would NOT STOP STARING AT HIM. "… Okay." Her voice was barely audible.
"What was that?" The blade sliced JUST little deeper and the flesh split wider, turning red.
"OKAY!" Osmie gasped, desperate against the accursed blade.
"Wonderful…" He purred, pleased with his success, and dropped her.
Only at that moment did she realize that her feet had not been touching the ground. They'd been numb. She braced herself against the wall for support, and flinched when he grabbed her left wrist, pulling her arm out.
"I will find you tomorrow. You will live with me."
"Why is THAT necessary?"
"PUPPETS DON'T ASK QUESTIONS. THEY JUST DO." His grip on her wrist became deathly tight. Osmie shivered and wondered what she'd gotten herself into. "This… is to ensure that you do not forget our deal."
There had not been any time for her to pull away. The pain was sharper, seering, because the blade cut so much deeper. She could only let up a high-pitched cry as the blade bit her, leaving a thick bleeding slit on the inside of her forearm, against the fleshiest portion of it. Her bottom lip quivered as the shivery hot waves of pain echoed throughout her body. She realized she was quivering, nearly SPASMING. The shock of the assault had finally caught up with her.
"Now be a good Puppet. Don't forget." And just like that, he shoved her back out of the alley, scrapes along her back and shoulder, a thin cut at her neck, a thick gouge in her arm. Quivering, suffering.
And even then, she turned to look into his amber eyes. This time angry and bewildered.
He left before something inside him snapped and he killed his Puppet. After all, that wouldn't have done him any good, now would it?
oOo
A few blocks away, Juno was oblivious to the three angels that were steadily gravitating towards her. She had not a care in the world. She couldn't remember the last time she had had so much fun. Drinking. Dancing. Chatting with strangers that were rapidly becoming her new circle of friends.
She managed to pry herself away from Dana and her rambunctious friends long enough to sneak away for a cigarette. The night club had a side entrance that lead to the alley. Set up in the alley was a walled off, designated smoking area, furnished with ritzy outdoor chairs and tables.
In a time when health crazes and anti-smoking ads ran rampant, Juno was not surprised to find herself alone in the smoking area. Not that she minded the quiet, reserved place. Away from the pumping bass and ear-splitting music.
She took a seat at a table, crossed her legs, and pinched a cigarette between her lips.
"You know those things can kill you."
The sudden statement shattered the quiet, and Juno uttered a startled gasp. "Christ!" She said, glaring at the man who had snuck up on her. And those green eyes immediately widened. She recognized her weird neighbor. He stood there with his hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans, staring at her with those piercing grey eyes.
Of course he wasn't smiling. It may have cracked his face.
"Do you sneak up on people often?" Juno mumbled, cupping her hands around the end of her cigarette as she lit it. She tried her hardest to avoid eye contact.
Juno wasn't the type to get rattled easily. She had been through so much in her twenty one years of life, nothing seemed to surprise her. But that didn't make being blatantly followed by her neighbor any more comforting.
"Not usually, no." He said, pulling out the chair beside her and taking a seat. "You just don't seem to be all that observant." He held out a hand to her, expectantly.
Juno knew what he was silently asking for. His calm, confident actions eased her a bit. Eased her enough to pass him a cigarette nonchalantly, as though they had already been friends for years. "Well maybe I'm just not used to being followed."
Lucifer slipped the cigarette into his mouth and took her lighter off the table. The last time he had smoked a cigarette, he was known as 'Sakuya Kira'. But he fired it up like a pro and slid the lighter back to her. "Who says I'm following you?"
"If you were really coming out here to smoke, you wouldn't have to bum one from me."
The tiniest of smiles curled on Lucifer's lips. "An excellent point. I figured it would just be polite to introduce myself to my new neighbor."
Juno took a deep drag, staring at him with those green eyes. As she inhaled, she took in the strangest scent of roses. Like… roses mixed with a dark kind of spice. It was the strangest cologne she had ever sampled. And it seemed that only he could make it seem masculine. "So…? Introduce yourself, then."
"So pushy." Lucifer secretly allowed himself to be amused. "You first."
A few long moments passed before she finally spoke again. "I'm Juno. Juno Monahan." She didn't hold out a hand, and Lucifer didn't mind. He never understood the ritual of handshaking, as it was.
"Malachai Lawrence." He said, rattling off his human alias without hesitation.
"Nice to meet you." Juno said quietly. He was staring at her again. Shamelessly gazing upon her face without blinking. She shifted a little in her seat, once again finding that stare to be extremely uncomfortable. "Why are you staring at me like that?"
"Sorry." Lucifer said. But still, his gaze did not waiver. "You just… remind me of somebody." He allowed a small sliver of truth to slip, and he had no intention of revealing any more.
"Ex-girlfriend?" Juno asked, arching a chestnut brow as she took another deep drag of her cigarette.
"Something like that."
Juno nodded her head. She felt much better now that her neighbor's fixation on her face was better explained. It wasn't anything personal… she just looked like someone he knew.
Moments passed in silence as they sat and finished their cigarettes. Lucifer shamelessly watched Juno as she only stared off into nothingness. Her face was so similar to Alexiel's. There were subtle differences, of course. Juno's face was smaller, the features more delicate. Her eyes were smaller than Alexiel's, and held more of an almond shape. Her lips weren't quite as plump, yet they were still full. Ripe. … Kissable.
Another small smile crossed Lucifer's face. Kissable… It had been far too long since he had used such a word to describe a female. When he chose to sample the opposite sex, he usually chose to do more than just kissing.
Lucifer let his gaze wander over her body. Sure, she was small. She was short, her waist tiny. But her proportions were perfect. Considering her petite frame, her breasts were just the right size.
She wasn't Lucifer's typically busty, curvy prey. But when he imagined what it would be like…. Pulling that small body underneath his… Holding her beneath his hands…
"I need to get going." Juno said, breaking Lucifer's devious train of thought. "I have to work tomorrow."
"I'll walk you home." Lucifer said, snuffing his cigarette as he continued to let his hungry thoughts run away with him. He couldn't recall a time when such a blatant attraction to a female had hit him so hard. Then again, it had been far too long since he had felt a woman's most… intimate embrace.
"Your chivalry would be impressive if it was actually out of your way." Juno rolled her eyes, once again cutting through Lucifer's heated thoughts of her.
"Well maybe if I'm lucky, you'll let me tuck you in, too." Lucifer said, letting his gaze burn into hers with all the power and lust he felt in that moment. He was taking a risk in being so forward, but Lucifer usually ended up lucky.
In Lucifer's experience, there were usually three ways a woman would respond to such an open invitation. First, she could blush and politely refuse. Second, she could accept with a flirtatious wink and sultry comment.
Or she could surprise him, and do what Juno did. She could laugh.
It wasn't cruel laughter, by any means. It was a lighthearted, gleeful laughter. She took no offense to his comment, nor did she tell him to get lost. "You'll have to do better than that, Casanova." She chuckled more, clearly very amused as she slung her purse over her shoulder.
Lucifer could only smirk as he sensed the beginning of a new, entertaining game. It was very rare that a woman rejected him, and the rejection usually had the opposite effect on Lucifer. He could consider his interest piqued.
It had been a while since he'd toyed with a human. Of course, his intentions were somewhat less than honorable…
But he was the Devil. No one expected him to have a halo, anymore.
To be continued…