Chapter 5, Part 3 : The Eye of Iblis
Kyoto City, Japan, 21st September 1999, Tuesday, 2030 hrs
The Springtime Flower shop. It was here, in the oldest section of the city, that his father had bought his mother flowers, despite the fact that the latter absolutely detested them. It was compounded by the fact that the selection he made would all have brought about his mother's wrath crashing down on his father's head. His father had given his mother a lily, of all things - the one flower that no one who wanted to win a girl's affections would give.
At first, his mother had thought the gesture to be an insult from her sister's employee. Kusakabe Shihana and her friends had been prepared to beat his father within an inch of his life, but the words soon had the first blushing and the second left paralysed in awe.
'That is the only flower that suits you,' his father had said, 'To give you anything else would be an insult. Unless, of course, you're saying that you prefer them on your grave than in your hands...'
Those words brought about a rivalry that became something more. Their childishness had his aunt screaming bloody murder at both of them on more than one occasion for their devil-may-care races in the mountains. Makoto chuckled. His aunt had mellowed over the years, but he could almost imagine the demonic look on his aunt's face as she went postal on his parents. He could not help but tremble. The owner of the Springtime Flower shop, Hojo Katsura, an old World War 2 veteran and a survivor of the battle of Iwo Jima, had once told Makoto that he had once seen his aunt angry - and had no wish to see her angry a second time. Not even his commanding officer during the war had been that fierce - and none could inspire that level of terror.
But, Makoto could not help but be awed at how beautiful his aunt was when she was angry. There was nothing there but sheer defiance and pride. She was a living, breathing character out of his father's Circle of the Fallen novels. He cannot help but wonder if the seductive Infernal Exalted of the Swamp Clan in the novels, Uranus Poisonblade, was modelled after his aunt.
'Including the measurements,' his mind whispered, smiling treacherously. Makoto reddened. He was developing a real perverted side lately. If his aunt knew she was part of the dreams he had been having lately, there was no doubt as to what would happen to him. The lilies he had purchased for his parents' grave would soon grace his and the tombstone would bear the most insulting eulogy in the history of humanity. He knew his aunt was more than capable of carrying through with whatever threat she promised - imagined or otherwise!
He didn't want to meet his parents in the afterlife and explain to them that his aunt was the one who killed him just because he had a wet dream about her. The teasing would last beyond Doomsday. The soft chime of the shop's clock told Makoto that he had better step on it. If he had brought his laptop with him, he could settle down in the nearest fast food restaurant and get started on the next chapter of his pet project.
Makoto shrugged and strode to the counter, and was prepared to ring the bell to inform the old florist that he was ready to make the purchase when a familiar scent stopped him. He remembered this scent. But where...? Wait, yes, that was it. His mother had often used it when she took him and his father to the fairs. It smelt of pine, and roses in the rain. His heart quaked at the memory, and when the woman stepped into the shop, he had to fight down the urge to call her mother.
Few women now used such traditional body and hair-oils, and it did not surprise him that the woman before him did. Dressed conservatively in her gi and hakama, Katsuragi Tsubaki's single, silver eye met Makoto's blue-grey ones. This was the first time since her arrival in Kyoto that Makoto was this close to the silver-haired teacher, and suffice to say, he didn't like it. The way Tsubaki-sensei looked at him made him feel as if she knew everything that he kept sequestered in his heart.
To his surprise, the penetrating gaze softened as she caught sight of the flowers in his arms, and a smile curved her lips, "Flowers for your girlfriend, Kusakabe-san?"
"Eh?" Not the question he expected coming from the stern swordswoman, "Uh...not quite. They're for my parents."
"Your parents?" Tsubaki asked, feigning ignorance, "Oh, I see. My condolences, Kusakabe-san. How long has it been?"
"Almost eleven years now," Makoto replied, turning to look at the freshly-cut roses that the old florist had put into the pail only minutes before, the crimson colour of its petals reminding him all too vividly of blood. The sweet scent that wafted to his nose held the faint, copperish scent of spilt blood, and the image of his father, holding him to his chest as he emerged from the blazing wreck of the car, before toppling, still holding him close. Makoto remembered the pain of his broken arm, and how hard it had been to breathe. He remembered how bright the moon was,the shooting star that streaked above it, like the eye of a watching god and how beautiful the stars were. He remembered his father's voice, saying something...
...but what was it? He could not remember. But, what he could remember clearly was the feeling of loneliness and sorrow when his father's strong grip slackened, and his voice screaming out for his parents before the darkness came.
Makoto turned away swiftly, and rang the bell to inform the old owner of the shop that he was ready to make his purchase. The old florist emerged from the back room immediately, and his eyes widened when he saw the silver-haired woman behind him.
"Welcome to my shop, ojou-san. I'll tend to you in a minute after I deal with the young pup," the old florist said, bowing in respect before turning his full attention on his younger customer, "For those troublemaking parents of yours, eh?"
Makoto could not help but smile at the older man's gruff question, "Hai. Do you want me to leave them anything?"
The old man brought out a box of incense from his one of his overall's pockets, "Went back to get you this. Your father loved burning this, by the way, after he finished...having fun with your mother. I have extra...should you want to take your girlfriend out for a tryst or two..."
Makoto turned red, "Hojo-san!"
The older man laughed, and the censorious look the silver-haired woman behind him was giving him made him laugh even harder. The community who worked and lived this side of the city remembered Makoto's gaijin father well. Reiha Shigami had been a regular patron of the Black Crane bar and grill several blocks down, and had been the favourite of its manager and his employees back then. The place had also been the favourite stomping grounds of the Celestial Dragons biker gang led by Kusakabe Shihana, Makoto's mother and the outcast daughter of the influential Mikage family.
One of the Celestial Dragon biker girls, Ryubi Mika, was married to the son of the Black Crane's manager, and always had a spare table and a free meal for the son of her ex-leader. Mika, now 34, with children of her own, had never stopped lamenting about the fact that her leader had cheated abominably in the race to win the gaijin's heart.
Hojo looked past the entrance of his shop, noting the police officers that cycled past on their daily patrols. How the neighbourhood had changed ever since the gangs operating there had been put out of business. Many of the residents who lived here believed that it was due to a heavier police presence, but there were those - particularly amongst the ex-gang members who worked in they once terroristed - who whispered of a vengeful ghost who had crushed them one after the other. The recent Kiyamachi killings had put the fear of Kami-sama back in those ex-gang members who had survived the Purge.
They believed that the Bloody Angel had returned to finish whatever it had started all those years ago. The name had been coined by a gangster who had managed to catch a glimpse of the thing that had butchered his friends. But, demon, angel or spirit, it had been a godsend to the beleaguered residents of the district. Hojo clearly remembered the days when the gangs and the traids controlled the district. Gang fights, prostitution and illegal bars had been commonplace before the Purge began.
In the beginning, the old florist had taught it a lone vigilante who had a bone to pick with the triads, the fool. But, soon, he started to see a pattern; the attacks, he deduced, had been meant to ignite hostilities between the gangs. It worked. The gangs were soon at each other's throats and the killings continued unabated, even intensifying, as the mysterious stalker soon started targeting the gangs' and triads' leadership in a brutal witch-hunt.
The event that made the already bloody Purge bloodier had been when the Red Lotus triad, the most powerful triad in the city, kidnapped Shihana and several of her friends to be sold overseas. That got Makoto's father angry, and he got involved despite his employer's (who was also the younger sister of Shihana) and the parents of the kidnapped girls to report the incident to the police. Hojo told them that by the time the police acted, it would already be too late. Reiha promised he would bring them back safe, but that the price of his assistance was their silence. Their desperation to see their loved ones safe saw to their swift assent.
Within five days of that promise, a spate of bombings, assassinations and murders that bordered on terrorism saw to the entire organisation annihilated. The police found their work being done for them. Arrest warrants were rendered null and void on dozens of suspects because each and every one of them ended up in the morgue. An anonymous tip-off soon had the police storming the Hanabi Maru, a ship owned by a front company affiliated to the Red Lotus. On it, they found not only the kidnapped girls, but also illegal contraband such as guns and drugs in its manifesto, all bound for the cartels of South America.
That, and what had happened to the crew. The police teams had come ready for a fight. Hojo did not know what they found there, but the fact that the teams that had been involved in the storming of the ship swarming the city's bars and nightclubs told him that they had seen Hell. Hojo had interrogated Reiha, but all the gaijin said was that he directed the wolves to the hunting ground. The cold gleam in his eyes warned the old florist not to ask any further before he became one of the sheep.
The survivor of the Red Lotus, he soon heard on the news, was its leader, who was now nothing more than a broken, mewling wreck whose sanity was all but blasted out the window. Regardless of how Makoto's father did it, he had done society a service. It may not been in his place to judge the gangsters, but he had done what any other man would have done if their loved ones were in danger.
"Hojo-san?"
"Eh? Sorry, Kusakabe-kun. Just thinking about old times. Heh..." and he noticed a white roce amidst the lilies, "And that must be for your tigress of an aunt. Trying to bribe her before she chops your head off?"
Makoto rolled his eyes, "If I don't, I'd find the manner of my death all the more painful. Appeasement is an option preferable to execution."
Hojo burst out laughing, and the way the silver-haired woman's shoulders were shaking told the old florist that she, too, was trying her best not to erupt in laughter. Makoto scowled, thanking Hojo for embarrassing him in front of his sensei, before proceeding to pay for the flowers. As he left the shop, he was unaware of two blue eyes watching him from the window of a nearby coffee-house.
X X X X X X
Kyoto City, Ruida's Books and Internet Cafe, Tuesday night, 21st September 1999, 2045 hrs
Ruida's shop was located several blocks from the Kyoto train station that linked the city to the rest of Japan, her Charms in the vicinity ensuring that any supernatural creature or their lackeys would catch her off-guard. Which was why, at this point in time, the exiled Reaper was swearing inwardly as her golden eyes blazed at the sight of the intruder. Winds colder than Cocytus's breath spiralled around Ankusha, promising that should the latter not have an explanation as to why she was here uninvited, she would pay dearly.
The intruder raised both hands, palm outwards, indicating that she was not here to start a quarrel.
"How did you get past my wards, Lilith?" Ruida snarled, her hands tightening around the haft of her war-scythe, the long, dagger-ended chain slashing angrily in tandem with her emotions, "It should be impossible for a demon of your stature to enter my territory without tripping over one of my wards."
The female devil chuckled, "It wasn't easy, I assure you, to circumvent a high-level Charm that covered twelve blocks. Such caution is commendable, if not bordering on overkill."
"Clearly, it was not good enough to keep you out of my territory," Ruida fired back, "Leave now, Lilith. I do not wish to speak to you."
Lilith's crimson eyes narrowed, and she stood up from behind the table in which she had sat behind, "I don't even want to be here when I have better things to do with my time, Harafel. But, this is important, and I think it is best that you know what is about to happen before it is too late. Wait, hear me out, and then I'll leave. My brother has informed me, through his contacts, that the lapdogs of our Creator," spitting out the word, "have declared a blood-hunt on all the Avatars chosen to be our Prince's vessel."
"A blood-hunt?" Ruida's face went pale, "They would go this far?"
"They are," Lilith replied, emphasising the second word, "now scouring the globe for them. With the Oracles of Delphi and the Seer Council aiding them, it would take them less than a month to thwart our Prince's plans."
"Lucifer is not my Prince, Lilith," Ruida said.
"It does not matter, Harafel. You turned your back on God, like I have."
"But, that does not make me a Fallen."
"You have loved a mortal and have lain with him many times. You may not have birthed or sired any of the Nephilim, but your act of copulating with one of Adam's sons is no less an act of treachery as when Lucifer and my brethren raised up arms against God. 'Thou shalt not mix thy divine blood with those of Adam's get, for such a union of that which is eternal and transient shall bring thee only sorrow.', remember? Our Father who art in Heaven did not say it, but the underlying warning was more than enough. Screw a mortal, and you Fall. Bear that mortal's child, and you, your lover, and your children are finished. You and those like you are an exception in the fact that your punishments were deferred."
Ruida could not answer. She knew all too well the edicts of Heaven; she had chosen willingly to disobey and was willing to bear the consequences of her actions. It's just that Heaven had chosen to punish Darien in order to punish her was cruel beyond description. He never did anything wrong. And to this day, she remembered the strangled cry of his soul as the flaming swords of the Malhim sent him to Final Death for violating one of God's daughters. She had wanted to tell them that he didn't seduce her; she was the one that initiated the relationship.
"You were lucky that you left after the final battle at Genhinnom when you did. Did you know what they did to those who had done as you had?" Lilith continued, her eyes narrowing, "Yes, you know. You heard their screams and felt their pain as Oblivion took them. Final Death - that is the mercy offered by our Creator to his creations. The act of disposing of toys He no longer has any use for."
"God is not that cruel. He must have had a reason to..."
"A reason?" Lilith cut in, amusement in her tone, "A reason? When does He ever need one? Stop defending Him, Harafel. Stop defending the atrocities that He has commanded done in His name. There is no greater lie than to mask evil with the visage of good. Did you remember Tishael, the one who gave your Darien the coup de grace? Shall I tell you a little secret, hmm?"
Lilith stepped within range of Ruida's weapon, and bent foward, smiling, "She was also in love with your precious Darien. Did you know that?"
Ruida did not flinch. Neither did Lilith when Ankusha's dagger-ended chain hovered an inch from her face.
"You lie."
"Am I? You are right not to trust me, as I may be lying," Lilith said, "But it does not change the fact that Makoto is in danger. I have no wish for him to share the fate of your dead lover, and with the way you're acting right now, the servants of the Tyrant God will succeed in their mission in seeing him dead."
"I will not let it happen, nor will I let what you are planning ever come to pass."
"Spoken like a true warrior of Heaven," Lilith said as she leapt backwards, landing lightly on the open balcony, "But whether you can stop what is about to happen remains to be seen. If you defy them, they will destroy you. If you do not obey God's edicts, they will destroy you. If you stand alone, they will destroy you. Your position is untenable, Harafel."
The female devil drew a small brass cylinder from her trench-coat, and threw it onto the chair she sat on previously, "I leave you this, as a gesture of good-will. I suggest you consider it seriously because if you do not...Makoto may well end up like your beloved Darien."
Before Ruida could answer, the beautiful devil had already dissolved into the mist and was carried away on the night wind. The Death Angel picked up the cylinder her Fallen counterpart had left her and looked at the sigil that was engraved on it: a crimson, ornate, inverted cross with a six-winged serpent twined around it.
Her free hand tightened around it as tears fell to the floor.
"Darien..."
X X X X X X
At that same moment, inside the Hoshino Mall...
Tokiya, Kasumi and several of their classmates stared at the large viewscreen in Hoshino Mall, as news from one side of the world was transmitted to those who lived on the other side. The news report a day ago had shown but a fraction of the devastation, but now, it showed the full extent of it. Entire city blocks were either in flames, or had totally collapsed from the force of the earthquake. The city's emergency services were out in full force trying to contain the aftermath of the disaster, and it was clear, from what the reporter was saying, that the odds were against them. They were stretched to near-breaking point, and it was difficult for its Emergency Response Central to handle a disaster of this magnitude.
And, from what the American geological experts had said, there was another, more massive, earthquake on the way. When it would hit, no one knew, and it had convinced many residents of the city to obey ths mayor's order to leave the city. But, clearly, just as many refused to leave. The breakdown of social order was widespread in many parts of the city, and the camera from the media helicopter zoomed down to where riot police forcefully suppressed looters with tear gas and water cannons.
Then...several gunshots rang out.
A world stood paralysed as several police officers fell to the broken ground.
And all hell broke loose.
X X X X X X
Angelic Fortress Ragnarok, off Long Island, USA, 21st September 1999, Tuesday morning, 0640 hrs
Mikhail, Dominion of the Steel Angel Court, looked about the majestic Council Chambers in the heart of Ragnarok. Hours ago, it had held a convocation that would decide the stance of the Eternal Guard courts ever since God had commanded all of His sons and daughters to return to the fastness of Heaven in preparation for the Morningstar's assault.
And hours ago, it would see to a historic, second splintering amongst the loyalist servants of the Almighty. And, as so many had predicted, God proceeded to withdraw His blessings from them, leaving them a pale shadow of their former glory. Charms they could once have used with ease once before now became considerably more difficult to cast. Their Disciplines, thankfully, were unhindered, and that in itself was a blessing.
"Mika-chan?"
The silver-maned Dominion turned to see her pink-haired sister skipping in merrily. Just like Kurumi to not care that God had cast her down. As long as she had Nakahito by her side, and as long as he was happy, nothing else mattered. Mikhail could not help but be envious of her sister's mind-set.
"Ah, Kurumi. Is Nakahito asleep?"
"Yup. We...exhausted him, after all," Kurumi giggled, "You look tired, also, Mika-chan. Why don't you return to the room?"
Mikhail chuckled, pulling her scanty nightrobe tighter about her lush form, "I can't think clearly when I'm in his arms, Kurumi. And right now, I need to think clearly."
"You worry too much, Mika-chan. Are you regretting it?"
Mikhail considered the question, before finally shaking her head, her blue eyes falling upon the symbol of the cross crowned by a sunburst, "Did God rescind the order He gave long ago?"
It was Kurumi's turn to shake her head.
"And therein, is the reason why those who remain, chose to remain."
Footsteps soon alerted the two young women to the arrival of another. It was Vincent of the Steel Rain.
"Commander, we've just got info from our contacts from New York that the Fallen Courts have chosen to act. The Earthbound have moved against them, and open fighting has erupted across several parts of the world."
"What!"
"That's not all," said the bespectacled angel, "I've got it from reliable sources that Heaven has sent out kill-teams to search for the Avatars with orders to kill them on sight. They intend to use the Church to aid them in their hunt."
Before Mikhail could say anything, the entire sky fortress suddenly shook violently, causing all three angels to lose their balance. Vincent, the first to recover, shouted into his comm-link, "Command, what in God's name was that?"
The response, heard by all of them, was chilling in the extreme, "God's name is right! We're having Malhim on top of us! There's a whole Host of them out there!"
"WHAT!" Mikhail shrieked, "What do you..." and fell silent as the puzzle pieces in her mind fell into place. Damn it! Damn that fascistic pig! He had been waiting for the opportunity and he finally had all the reason he needed to crush the newly-Fallen angels who had chosen to disobey God's Command. The fact that he had brought in the Malhim meant that he was not intent on taking back prisoners to face the Celestial Inquisition. How just like him!
Mikhail soared over to the nearest communications console and hailed the Command Centre of Ragnarok, "Duria, are the defensive systems on-line?"
"Not a moment too soon, my lady. Our brothers and sisters abroad are now taking up arms and are repelling the enemy. The Fusetsu-Kekkai kicked in the moment they came within Ragnarok's outer-sensor boundaries, and the defenses an instant later when our IFF-Charms identified their intentions as hostile."
"Damages?"
"None so far, but the Ragnarok's shield Charms and Wards took quite a beating from the initial barrage. And...wait a minute...what's she doing here!" Duria paled.
"Duria...what's wrong?"
"L-Lady Mikhail...it's Brunhilde! One of the Twelve Valkyries is here!"
Mikhail's lips tightened, and she shifted into her battle-harness before storming to the main courtyard where her brother and sister angels, along with dozens of mystics, Blood- and Oath-sworn mortals stood ready to cross swords against the swiftly approaching angelic army. Nakahito was there as well, standing next to Kurumi and her sisters, a look of sorrow on his face as the sick realisation of what was about to happen sank in.
As the sun crested over the horizon and lit the skies, the battle between the loyalists of Heaven who chose to obey God's command and its loyalist renegades who remained faithful to a command that had yet to be withdrawn began in earnest.
X X X X X X
New York, America, Bernstein Motel, 21st September 1999, Tuesday morning, 0730 hrs
The young, dark-haired man woke in a soft bed, his body tingling with the familiar ache of heavy injuries and an unidentifiable, sensuous warmth that flowed through his veins. His body was swathed in bandages, and he winced as he moved. Where was he? How did he get here? And what in God's holy name did he fight against to end up as badly injured as he was now? All things considered, he should be in a hospital's ICU, and not in a hotel room with a naked girl sleeping next to him.
Wait a minute.
Back it up...
Naked girl?
The young man looked under the blanket. He was naked as well.
Oh no...not again! Did he...?
Oh Hell...
A thousand swear-words, most of them in a long-dead language (but which were more suitable for the situation at hand) erupted from his lips when he saw who exactly the girl was sleeping next to him. This would explain the sensuous warmth he was feeling nearly overloading his senses!
Oh, if Bennu saw this, he was never going to live it down. The girl, sensing that her lover had woken up, started to rouse from her slumber as well. Brown hair, loosened from their twin ponytails, cascaded down to her lower back. The body of the girl was lush and athlethic at the same time. He knew her.
"Lucia?" he rasped.
"Good morning, Sheik," the girl smiled, stretching, allowing her lover a full view of her full, G-cup breasts and the firm musculature of her lean frame, "I take it you slept well?"
Knowing better than to be embarrassed by what had transpired (and giving the girl ammunition in which to tease him mercilessly), Sheik opted to nod, "Who took care of my injuries?"
"Faia. She barely got back to her room after you were through with her. Good God, Sheik...you're unbelievable when you go all-out. I wonder why you haven't gotten married and had a whole room of kids yet," Lucia grinned playfully as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, "You not only got me and Faia to fly; you got us staining the bedsheets."
Sheik reddened, and quickly changed the subject, "And she had to cut my hair?"
Lucia raised one eyebrow in amusement, "It got in the way of when Faia was turning you into a mummy. You were lucky, though," and the amusement left her eyes, "You lost a lot of blood and had enough injuries to send a werewolf straight to the morgue. I know you well enough that it takes a lot to piss you off, and I've seen you angry. But this is one of the few times I've seen you go postal. Remind me never to get on your bad side. You have your mom's temper."
Sheik stared at Lucia in confusion. What happened two days ago anyway? His memory was foggy and indistinct. All he remembered was getting very, very scared when the earthquake hit...and then black and silver-maned werewolves lunging at him from the alley, driving him down in a series of fierce body tackles that saw them crashing through a van and through an apartment store.
One of them was...who was it? A female werewolf with a crimson mane...he knew her, but what was her name?
"You don't remember?" Lucia asked as she gathered the blankets about her.
"No, sorry. My mind's a mess."
"Not surprising. You went berserk in Times Square and shifted to your Divine Aspect in full view of an adoring public before proceeding to fight against two whole packs of Black Whirlwind were-beasts."
"I breached Masquerade...?" Sheik squeaked.
Lucia burst out laughing at the horrified look on her companion's face, "Yup, before proceeding to go Nanaya on Wolf Queen and her bodyguards. Your mother must really be desperate to get you back before her enemies got to you and she's throwing everything but the kitchen sink. When Nial and the rest of us reached Times Square - Natashia guided us there, by the way - the entire place had become a supernatural Royal Rumble. Fallen loyal to your mother and to her enemies had gotten involved."
"How many of our friends are injured, Lucia?"
"A good number," the brown-haired girl replied somberly, "Some of them when they tried to bring you down."
The blood drained from Sheik's face, "Who did I...?"
Lucia told him.
"That many...? Even him?"
"Uh-huh. Had we not gotten some help from an unexpected quarter, you would have cleaned out the Square of every living thing. I'll introduce you to those two later. By the way, have you heard of a demon called the Hornless One?"
Sheik's eyes widened. By God's Throne...the Hornless One? That name was infamous in Hell and synonymous with a faction that had murdered one of Lucifer's daughters in an attempt to break the geasa that bound all the Fallen and their daemonic servants to the Morningstar's will.
"I take it that you know. He was helped by a red-haired German beauty. She's a Jewel Witch. Bennu clearly knew her, and they spoke for quite some time before she departed with the Silent Throne Exorcists. Those two are here on guard duty. The Hornless One wants to talk to you when you're back on your feet."
"That will have to wait, in any case," spoke another voice as the silver-haired, amber-eyed Faia as she entered the room, carrying in her arms a tray of food and a first-aid kit, "You're still pretty badly injured. You need a session...maybe two...before you have enough energy to seal up those wounds of yours. But, how is he so far, Lucia?"
"He's doing okay, as far as I can tell," the green-eyed girl replied merrily, "He took quite a bit out of me, but that's nothing a few hours of sleep and a good meal wouldn't solve."
Faia chuckled. Lucia had always been a tough girl despite her mischievous exterior. Next to her and Natashia, it was she who spent the most time replenishing Sheik's mana reserve when it hit dangerous levels. The only way that he could do so was through sexual intercourse, where he used his lover's soul as a channel in which to draw the divine blessing that God had granted his most favoured creation. When Bennu hid him in Singapore for the past year, he had accumulated an astronomical amount of power - which he promptly used up as he attempted to demolish an entire section of the metropolis (as well as friend and foe) in a berserk fury.
"Where am I, anyway?"
"You're at the Bernstein Motel, a building owned by someone who owes Cardinal Wesley a big favour. We managed to set up camp here after the earthquake. You drifted in and out of consciousness for two days now, but it seemed that your...hunger and your capabilities...only increased. Like father, like son..."
Lucia giggled, but a prompt glare sent her scurrying into the bathroom.
"Stop making me look like a pervert, Faia," Sheik scowled. He hated it when the girls in the Seraph coterie made jokes at his expense.
"You are!" Faia stuck out her tongue playfully, before her eyes became sad, "You scared us, you know. The way you were, it was as if you were someone else. The Silent Throne Exorcists had to use their most powerful barrier wards to chain you down, and they barely held. Did Lucia tell you about..."
"The Hornless One and his Jewel Witch companion? Yes, she did."
"Had they not stepped in, we would have been in serious trouble. You were ready - and probably more that capable - of demolishing an entire segment of New York, along with every living thing within a 10-block radius."
"I find that hard to believe. Right now, what surprises me more than that possibility is the fact that the Title-Divested One and the Jewel Witch that accompanied that nun and that Apostle seventy years ago during the Usurpation are still alive."
"Am I missing something here?" Lucia asked, "What happened seventy years ago, anyway?"
"He can tell you later, Lucia. Go bathe, get dressed and go eat - you've had a long night. And you, Sheik, Iet me see your injuries," Faia said.
The Nephilim obeyed without protest. Lucia, who took a folded towel from the nearby shelf to cover her naked body, gave him a once-over as Faia removed the bandages, revealing the horrific scars that had been fatal wounds the night before, and whistled. Sheik soon got a firsthand look at wounds that would have put half-a-dozen werewolves out of commission. He was stunned by the fact he was still alive.
Scabbed-over lacerations from talons criss-crossed his body, and there were a multitude of injuries caused by various close-combat weapons. The worst injury was a mass of ruptured flesh and tissue caused by a Divine Cross sword technique, and stretched from his right shoulder down to his left hip.
"Somebody really pulled a Battousai on me," Sheik grimaced as he traced the injury, "Was it one of my mother's Fallen servants, or one of her enemy's?"
"That was the Hornless One's doing," Faia replied as she drew a new roll of bandages from the first-aid kit before proceeding to wrap Sheik's battered frame with it, "He managed to take you down, but you sent him crashing out the other end of a shopping mall."
A knock on the door alerted the two of them to a new arrival. The door opened to reveal a stately but curvaceous woman with shoulder-length blue hair. Sheik recognised her immediately. Natashia, the Unseeing Eye, a sorceress whose abilities was on par with the Warlocks from the Seraph Coterie. Despite her being blind, Natashia easily made her way to the bed, smiling warmly.
"How are you feeling, Sheik?" the wizardess asked.
"Not bad, considering I took apart two packs of veteran Black Whirlwind were-beasts," he replied, "Turned Times Square into a war-zone, and added to my very long list a hefty bill I don't want to go about paying. I swear if my mother saw it, she would disown me."
"No chance of that happening anytime soon. If I am any judge, I'd say you're still your mother's favourite," Faia said as she clipped the bandages in place, "There. Just another night of resting - and fun -," her eyes glittered, "and you'd be ready to get banged up again."
Sheik shook his head in exasperation, "Do you enjoy seeing me look like a train wreck?"
The answer, soon voiced by a towel-clad Lucia, soon had Sheik promising to make the girl's life a living hell. Natashia could not help but laugh at the image that took shape in the Nephilim's mind involving the girl being chained and tossed off Niagara Falls.
'Yes, Sheik, if there is one thing that you share with your cousin, it's this.'
She could almost see the heir to the title of the Bloody Angel laughing uproariously.
'Take care of him for me...'
Author's Note: Crimson Angel/Bloody Angel Shateiel, Makoto's father. That was the title he inherited when he slew Altimael, the former Bloody Angel, in combat. Just so you don't get lost.
X X X X X X
New York, America, The Church of Christ the Savior, 21st September 1999, Tuesday, 1345 hrs
The journey had taken hours, and Paladin Galford Eisenland and Rebecca Marshall were exhausted. The same could be said for their compatriots, who sat exhausted on the wooden pews while waiting for the local Inquisitorial chaplain to make his appearance. Several of their compatriots soon entered the Church.
"Well?" Eisenland asked, "What is the situation on the ground, Mark?"
"Bad does not even do it justice, Eisen," Mark replied, "The earthquake could not have happened at a worst time. The supernaturals are out in force, the streets are dangerous and becoming more so, and Vicky here has sensed that we have one very, very, very powerful monster who's on the verge of waking up. The Oracles were right on the money when they said it might be one of the Leeches' Clan Founders. Long story short, New York is Megiddo waiting to happen. If we're gonna find the Avatar, we'd better hope for some serious divine intervention, a lot of backup and enough time to kill him - or her - before that vampire Ancient I mentioned finally wakes up."
Eisenland pinched his eyes, "Vicky?"
The female Exorcist shook her head, "I agree with Mark. We're not fully prepared to undertake the mission the Inquisitor-General has tasked us with. We lack the manpower, we're exhausted and our supplies are low. If we enter enemy territory right now, I doubt we will ever leave it alive."
The grey-haired Paladin looked at the newspaper he had been reading prior to his subordinates' return from scouting the area. Splashed on the front page were the headlines:
THE MYSTERIOUS MONSTER SEEN AMIDST THE DEVASTATION
A well-built figure was kneeling over the wreckage of a school bus, clad in robes and ornate armour that Eisenland knew was used by many a high-ranking Fallen. But it was the weapon that the figure was holding that clued the veteran demon-hunter as to the identity of the 'monster'.
The memory of his friends dying in the flames as the Church was blasted down returned to Eisenland's mind with the clarity of a man who had lived through his worst nightmare. It had only been five years, and their screams were still fresh in his mind. Eisenland remembered his companions' desperation as they sought to prevent their prisoner's allies from rescuing her. One of his friends, now long-dead, had used his most prized artifact - a gift given to him by the Vatican years ago for a heroic deed - to call down an angel.
What happened next would scar Eisenland for the rest of his life.
He saw an angel die. He saw as a young man no older than twenty cut down the glorious celestial as if it were nothing more than a sapling.
And he would see the same figure in the papers that he saw then in the bright, divine flames of the angel's death: a robed, armoured figure with four black wings with flames licking from its feathers, and the same ornate, claw-like, crystal inlaid gauntlets that could rend blessed steel as though it were paper. Despite being older, despite the hair being longer, and despite the fact that the quality of the shot was not good, Eisenland knew that it was the same person.
At last, Eisenland smiled grimly, he had a chance to deliver retribution upon the enemies of God. And they were all here, in one city.
He did not see his compatriot, Paladin Rebecca Marshall, smile as well, albeit for a different reason, nor did he see the golden-haired woman play with a locket around her neck.
X X X X X X
And somewhere in the city, a golden-haired woman looked at the paper, and with an angry snarl, immolated it. She turned her blue eyes upon her eight compatriots, and one of them nodded in confirmation at the unasked question.
X X X X X X
Kyoto City, Kyoto High School canteen, Japan, 22nd September 1999, Wednesday, 1215 hrs
Lunch hour in school was Tokiya's favourite time of the day. It was during this time of the day when her schoolmates would let their hair down and talk about something other than schoolwork. While they would mostly talk about the latest fashions, movies, guys (or girls) or other mundane things, the conversations these past two days had revolved around the murder of Sahaka's friend in the very nightclub they had reserved for a private party. The arrest of Sahaka and his gang had sent the rumour mill of the local schools - and the neighbourhood - into a frenzy. There were no few people who believed that the Kiyamachi murders were the doing of Sahaka and his gang trying to make a reputation for themselves.
Tokiya did not like Sahaka or his lapdogs, period, but she knew full well that neither he nor his friends were capable of murder.
'Isn't he...?" a soft voice whispered in her mind. Well, maybe they were, but neither Sahaka nor his friends were bloodthirsty fiends who would reduce their enemies to sushi the way that Hisayashi Goro had been turned into. And none of them were crazy enough to copy the Kiyamachi Slayer's killing style: that would only get them the killer's attention and mark them as future victims And that was providing that the police did not get to them first.
She got word from Shinichi through the school chat network that Sahaka and his cronies would be released from police custody latter this evening as the police had nothing substantial to charge them with. The fact that they could have released him the day before told Tokiya that it was an under-the-belt shot at the Mikage family to rein in their troublesome scion or risk him being formally charged in court one day.
Tokiya sighed, and turned her thoughts to other matters. Being the vice class-rep was never easy. She knew that long before she took the post. But, when Lilith transferred in, life got a lot harder. Beautiful, intelligent and confident, Lilith was everything Tokiya was not. Where she had to use brute force to get her classmates to work together, a few cutting words and a hard look from Lilith caused even the class troublemakers to capitulate. Where she had to study hard in order to pass her tests and exams, Lilith breezed through them with enviable ease. Not only was Lilith excellent in her studies, the purple-haired gaijin was also a first-rate athlete and an excellent kendoist who had won the admiration of her rivals in a single stroke.
But, if there was one thing that angered Tokiya was the fact that in all the years that she had spent trying to earn a place in Makoto's heart, it was an utter stranger that had won it in an instant. The mental image of the beautiful gaijin kissing Makoto in full view of his classmates served only to incense her further. It didn't help matters that Sophia, Makoto's newest classmate, had entered the equation as well. Though not as direct as Lilith in staking her claim, it was clear that the blonde-haired girl was attracted to Makoto as well.
And, honestly, what was there not to be attracted to? Makoto had his weaknesses, but it did not change the fact that he was a good person. Tokiya looked out the window, the blueness of the sky causing bittersweet memories of a childhood long-gone to return. She remembered the way he had be been before his parents' death, his smile, his movements, the sparkle in his eyes - everything. There had been none of the pain that he now hid behind the warmth of his smile and the tenderness in his gaze.
'Do I love him...?'
Tokiya flushed as the question crossed her mind. Did she...? But before she could contemplate the question further, a hard slap on her back broke her out of her sombre thoughts and almost sent the brown-haired girl crashing into the floor. She scowled when she saw the person who had landed the blow. Standing behind her was Tomoe Hisako, her classmate and a friend of hers ever since Junior High. A merry, outgoing girl who was into the latest trends and fashions. Her long, brown hair was tied into two thick ponytails high on her head and her grey eyes were gleaming merrily as she watched her friend rub her sore back.
"And what was that for?" Tokiya growled.
"To wake you up, of course! What were you doing zoning out in the middle of the hallway, Toki-chan? Are you gonna stand there till lunch hour is over?"
Tokiya looked at her watch, and her eyes widened. It was already 12:25. She had been standing there for the past ten minutes! Standing there, with a lovesick look on her face! Kami-sama, there goes her reputation! And no thanks to Makoto! He was gonna pay when she saw him!
"What were you thinking about anyway?" Tomoe asked, "You looked very sad."
"Huh...? Was I?" Tokiya grinned, and started laughing, a clear sign to Tomoe that this conversation was over one way or the other. The latter sighed in exasperation, before asking the former if she had seen Makoto.
"Eh...? Why do you want to talk to him, Tomoe?" Tokiya asked, suspicion in her voice.
"It's not like I'm trying to get into his pants, Toki," Tomoe said, raising her hands as Tokiya raised one fist, "Hey, take it easy, Toki-chan. I was only kidding. Saori-sensei asked me to find him. She wants to talk to him."
"Whatever for?"
"Beats me, Toki. But, whatever she wants to see him for, I can bet a hundred yen that it's going to end badly for Makoto-kun."
Tokiya was smart enough not to take up the bet, but agreed wordlessly that whenever Saori-sensei and Makoto were in the same room, the latter always ended up rushing out as if all of Hell was after him. Tokiya asked if Tomoe had asked Makoto's cousins. The latter replied that she had, and had asked Sophia, who had proceeded to tell her that Makoto had come into class late. When Tomoe told Tokiya exactly what time he had come in - and whose lesson he had interrupted by doing so - the pieces fell into place. But, it was Makoto's reaction to Saori-sensei's that surprised Tokiya. The first had not even batted an eyelid when the second announced that he would be doing latrine duty for the entire week.
"He must really be out of it," Tokiya said.
"That was exactly what Sophia-san said," Tomoe added, "She also advised we leave him alone for now. Ne, Toki-chan, you know Makoto best. What exactly can set him off like this?"
Tokiya did not reply. Some things were best left unspoken. Tomoe, seeing the expression on her friend's face, nodded understanding before finally saying that she had best be the person to tell Makoto that the teacher wanted to see him. Anyone else would end up in the infirmary.
'Oh, thank you for sending me to my death, Tomoe!' her glare screamed.
X X X X X X
It took Tokiya 15 minutes before she found Makoto. He was on the roof, alone, and his body language alone told the brown-haired girl that he wanted to remain thus. A part of her told her that it was a better idea to leave him alone, as Sophia had suggested, but it...hurt to see him like this. Her decision made, she pushed the door open and stepped onto the roof.
Makoto turned when he heard the door open, and Tokiya saw the desolate expression on his face that he did not have time to mask. He had been crying...
"Makoto-chan? What's wrong" Tokiya felt her voice shake, "Why...?"
That was when the young man started to tremble, and Tokiya rushed over and caught him as the dam broke yet again. Makoto gripped Tokiya's blouse tightly, and the latter winced at the iron grip in which the former held her as they sank to the ground. The broken sobs that rose from his throat bled from a wound that would never heal.
"Oy...Makoto, please...stop..."
But he didn't.
And it was all Tokiya could do to not to panic. She had seen him like this before, and it frightened her. But...this time, she didn't run. She couldn't. Not when he needed her the most. Tokiya wrapped her arms around him. She whispered words of comfort into Makoto's ear, stroking his head in the same fashion that he had seen Ruri do whenever they were together.
Class, for her, will have to wait.
X X X X X X
Standing in the shadow of the stairwell, Lilith watched the scene unfold with a sense of growing jealousy - and understanding. Jealousy that it was a useless human girl that was holding the one thing she wanted, and understanding that for all the fact that Makoto was the son of one who was but a step away from full Ascendance, he was nothing compared to his half-siblings who bore their father's legacy in their veins.
He would never be anything more than a gifted mortal Chosen to be her Prince's Avatar. Fragile, easily killed, just like the other eleven Chosen. But, why? Why did this one matter? He was neither wealthy nor influential, and the only link he had to a family that was both had disowned him a decade ago. He was but another soul amidst countless thousands.
Why did he matter?
'Lilith.'
The female devil looked up to see the white-clad form of her brother, Areil, standing at the bottom of the stairwell. Leaning against him, her eyes milky and unseeing, was Tokiya's classmate, Tomoe. Areil held up a folder.
'Asamu told me to pass this to you.'
X X X X X X
Lunch had ended 20 minutes ago, and Makoto had yet to return to the class. The fact that his bag was still there told Sophia that he was still in school. She knew the reasons why he was acting so strangely today, and it made the female angel smile sadly. It had been problematic, but the conversations she had had with Harafel, Saori-sensei and several of her classmates allowed her to further understand the events that had made Makoto into the person he was today.
And though it did not lessen the pain of her knowing, it made her glad that someone like Ruri Hayase had been part of Makoto's life.
X X X X X X
Kyoto City, Kyoto High School sick bay, Japan, 22nd September 1999, Wednesday, 1815 hrs
A knock on the door alerted Megumi Yuki that her guest had already arrived, and she put aside her pen and closed her folder. She had had enough for one day. Hiromaru-sensei had put in a request that the entire kendo team be given a medical inspection before the Tournament in Tokyo. And to make matters worse, Tenma-sensei of the swimming team had put in a similar request. That would mean she would have to check over 70 students in total.
"Come in, Shinichi," Megumi called out, pushing a stray lock of purple hair over her ear. The door to the infirmary slid open briefly before shutting again.
"Sorry I took so long, Yuki-san," Shinichi said as he put his school-bag down and the grocery bag on one of the beds, "I had some work to finish."
"Makoto's Circle of the Fallen project?"
"Amongst other things," Shinichi smiled, "So how was your day?"
"Tiring," Megumi indicated the stack of files, "And with the annual check-up round the corner...I think we may have to postpone our date until after the end of the month. Sorry. Say...I overheard Saori-chan saying that Makoto was acting out of sorts today. You have any idea why he is? She was particularly worried."
Shinichi became quiet, and his expression pensive, "I spoke to him yesterday, and he sounded fine. I don't know what happened this morning, Megumi, but I think it is best we leave him alone for now. Here..." and passed her a cold drink, "I think you'll need this. By the way, where's Asamu-san? I thought you said he'd be here today?"
Megumi scowled, "That baka cancelled it just 15 minutes ago. He had been asked by our family to pick Sahaka up from the police station."
"Megumi..." Shinichi asked, "Do you really think that Sahaka killed Goro-san?"
The school doctor cracked the tab on the drink and took a long swallow before replying that she would not put it past his cousin to do so, before proceeding to tell him that Sahaka was not so stupid as to remain at the crime scene, nor so low that he would sink to killing his own friends. He lived by the rules of the street, and the one cardinal rule there was to not sell out one's own friends - whether it be to the police or to rival gangs.
"And besides," Megumi added, finishing the drink, "Sahaka uses knives. The weapon used to kill Goro was probably a sword - a heated one. And...it's just me...but I have a feeling that Sahaka may have gotten the attention that he always wanted - the kind that gets him killed. I think the Kiyamachi Killer has her sights set on Sahaka - but before she kills him, she wants to play with him first."
Shinichi shivered as the image took shape in his mind. It didn't help as lines from the Circle of the Fallen made that image all the more terrifying. Then he paused. She? Why did Megumi-san think of the Kiyamachi Killer as a she?
"Megumi-san...why is it that you think that the Kiyamachi Killer is female?"
"Because," Megumi replied, slapping a hand on the newspaper dated several days back when Goro had been found butchered in the Silver Crane's toilet, "the way the Kiyamachi Killer acts and operates has the one thing that is lacking in most other psychopaths - elegance. Strip away all the blood and gore and planned mutilations, and you can tell that most of those she kills took a long time to die. If the Kiyamachi Killer had been male, they wouldn't last beyond 15 minutes before blood loss took its toll on his victims."
"I still say that you're basing your deductions on your instincts, Megumi. And that is not enough to bring the Slayer to justice."
X X X X X X
Kyoto City Metropolitan police station, Japan, 22nd September 1999, Wednesday, 2245 hrs
"How long is he going to take?" Yashiro Mika asked as she lit up another cigarette. It had been twenty minutes since they had arrived at the metropolitan police station, and there was still no sign of their employer's troublesome offspring nor the person who had gone into the station to bring him out. Mika sauntered over to Asamu, who had a cigarette dangling from his lips, and leaned forward, allowing the fired tip of hers to light his up.
"Thanks, Ya-chan."
"You look like hell, Asamu. Have you been sleeping well?'
Asamu shook his head. Mika didn't say a word. She knew that her friend had issues. Before he joined the Mikage family - who he was related to - as a bodyguard, Asamu had been a US Marine before he came home and had seen action in some of the world's hot zones. The jade-haired Mika remembered the young man Asamu had been before he left for the United States. The Asamu she leaned next to was a far cry from the one she knew. There were times that she missed the old, rambunctious Asamu that he had been once.
"It's gonna be cold tonight," Asamu said, blowing a puff of smoke into the air, "May have to stop by the 7-11 to buy some whisky. Hate the damn cold. By the way, Mika, who's on duty t the family mansion tonight?"
"Squads 3, 5 and 7. Mahmoud-san is the DO for tonight."
"Mahmoud-san? Our new guy from Pakistan? "
"Yup."
"Is he good?"
"Uh-huh. He may be a bit old, but he once fought in Afghanistan against the Russians," Mika said, "And with the family already afraid that Sahaka has become the target for the Kiyamachi Killer, they're going to push forward the timetable for our newest recruits in China. They'll be here by the end of the month. That is, if they survive..."
"I don't blame Sahaka his reaction when he saw what the Killer did to his friend, but what makes the family think he has become the target? This," Asamu replied, indicating the three cars and the ten well-armed bodyguards, "is too much. Do you think the Killer is crazy enough to try another stunt like the one he did at the Silver Crane here? In front of a police station?"
Mika rolled her eyes before proceeding to tell Asamu that it was best not to take any chances when it came to the cunning Killer. Sahaka may not be a target, but he was well-known enough to become one should the Killer want another high-profile victim. And, all things considered, she pointed out, the delinquent son of their employers did not deserve to die in the same fashion his friend had.
Asamu remained silent, but Mika heard the unspoken words in the way he crushed his cigarette beneath his boot. The dull rumble of thunder caused both of them to look at the sky, and the sleeting chill of the wind caused them to shiver despite their protective clothing. Asamu took out another cigarette and lit it, clenching it between his teeth. He hated the cold, always hated the cold. It brought back bad memories. The freezing air always brought with it the copperish scent of blood and cordite. Asamu knew that was all in the mind, but they felt all too real to him.
It was not so long ago that he was in Rwanda, watching the events that would paralyze a world. He and his buddies from the US Marines had been part of the UNAMIR forces there, led by General Dallaire, and they had tried their best to protect the helpless. It was there, of all places, when he was cut off from his friends, that he had met 'Shion'. She and several others were there to destroy an Ebon Legion Fallen who had been instrumental in starting the massacre, but that it had eluded them. 'Shion' offered Asamu a pact; in return for his service, she would allow him to return home to Japan safely.
He had been badly wounded then, and the cold African night had been a twisted knife in those wounds. But, it was not the physical wounds that hurt; it were the ones in his soul. He had seen a world simply stand by as a genocide played itself out before its very eyes - and done nothing to stop it. The ideals he once believed in, he realised, could be used by the powerful who knew how to manipulate that which others held dear. Such was the way of those in power, as it allowed them to keep their positions and control those that served them.
But, they mattered.
Those ideals mattered. For what was a man without anything to believe in? Such beliefs may be small and petty things in the greater scheme of things, but it gave hope that the world can be a better place. And if it means selling one's soul to the devil so that that light can burn brighter, then so be it.
Asamu made the pact, and 'Shion' delivered on her promise. Hutu tribesmen had come upon them then at that moment, hungry for atrocity, and the sight of a helpless US marine and four beautiful foreign girls must have been like a godsend to them. As he lit another cigarette, he remembered the drawings Makoto's father had made for his Circle of the Fallen project. Like most people, he believed that such beings did not exist - and even when he made the pact, he had thought that 'Shion' had been joking.
That was until they changed to those beautiful, terrifying figures out of those drawings. The last thoughts that passed through Asamu's mind was that somewhere, somehow, before Makoto's father had come to Japan, he had stood before such mighty spirits. His buddies had found him several minutes latter amidst the dismembered corpses of the tribesmen.
But, deep inside his soul, he felt the corrupted taint that such a pact invoked. It was a malady that had no cure. As he recovered in a US military hospital in Egypt, he met one of Shion's thralls. Her name was Elizabeth Troy. She worked as a nurse there, and had been instructed to explain the terms of the pact. First and foremost was that the pact was binding, and that the only one capable of ending it was Shion herself. Second was the fact that the pact granted the (person?) power in exchange for allowing the Fallen to use his or her soul to tap from the infinite blessing of God's grace that they were denied. The more pacts the Fallen had, the better.
Third was the fact that the pact brought out the vices that would normally be easily suppressed to the fore. They would be harder to control, requiring satiation each time they arose. And lastly, whenever their mistress needed their services, the sigil that marked them as her servants would burn like fire till they answered her summons.
Elizabeth had further informed him that unlike a majority of Shion's thralls, he had a purpose besides being just another power source. He was one of a handful of thralls that could properly train and equip those select thralls that would accompany Shion into battle, or to protect those that she sent into his keeping to recuperate from their injuries. Many of those, Asamu brought into SHIELD, the international security agency that also doubled as the Mikage family's bodyguards. With some of them in key positions in the organisation, it would allow their fellows to be redeployed to where Shion needed them. It also ensured that they would receive the training and equipment necessary to carry out their assigned tasks.
Shion, pleased with his actions, left him mostly alone. Excluding the time they had met in Rwanda, this was the fifth time they had ever met face-top-face. She had come to Japan several weeks back on a mission that would bring the war between her masters and Heaven to a final conclusion. Whatever it was that would win them their war, Asamu did not know, but he had a gut feeling that it revolved around the son of a man he admired.
But what was it that Makoto had that could bring about the victory that the Fallen have hungered for ever since their exile into the Abyss?
"Hey, Asamu, here they come..." Mika said, jerking Asamu out of his thoughts. The purple-haired bodyguard saw Sahaka emerge from the police station with the family retainer. Time to get back to work. There would be time enough to talk to Areil later; Shion's brother would be more than willing to fill in the blanks.
X X X X X X
Church of the Savior, Japan, 22nd September 1999, Wednesday, 1130 hrs
Shizuka looked out the window of the small residential wing that housed her and five other nuns who took care of the Church that stood a stone's throw away from Kyoto High. The dark-haired, young nun had been unable to sleep. The cold rain beat hard against her window, and she could hear the wind howling like a tormented soul. It was the same sound she heard in her dreams, as she stood, naked, amidst a burning city bathed under the light of a single crimson star surrounded by the shadows of ten titanic figures, enormous as gods could be.
And from the heart of that star, descending majestically of six massive wings, was...
Shizuka trembled, and shook her head to clear her mind of that terrifying image. She could feel that winged figure's gaze upon her, could almost see the mocking, triumphant smile that curved perfect lips, feel the cruel, vindictive gaze from perfect green eyes, and feel the softness of the crimson mane that flew in the hurricane-force winds that ripped a dying world apart.
But, it were the preludes to that ending that frightened Shizuka. The earthquakes in America, the skyrocketing murders around the world, the political instability in several regions of the world, the arrival of Lilith and Sophia, the awakening of the Hornless One, the war between the Exile and the Six Royals, the Rome bombings in May...all of it she had seen in her dreams. She had kept her gifts a secret even from the Reverend Mother for years, so as she could live a life without the Inquisition's Ophanim watching her every move. She knew that which only a select few in the Church knew: the Seers were the ones most vulnerable to possession and madness.
Many a time, a Seer was possessed by a powerful Fallen, or a mighty Earthbound spirit, and had to be destroyed before the being fully incarnated in its host. The safeguards, though effective, were akin to computer firewalls; they could be 'hacked' and circumvented. Shizuka did not have even that. All she had was a belief that God would protect her.
But, if her dreams were any indication, she would soon not have even that.
Despite the storm that raged outside, she felt something akin to anticipation deep within her soul. Something was about to happen.
Something terrible.
A scene in a grand play that would paralyse its audience.
Shizuka knew it was coming, could feel its arrival. Like the lightning that forked across the stormy skies, and like the city that shook beneath the deafening thunderclap that followed, that event would shake the world to its very foundations. Her eyes drifted to the school that was a stone's throw away from the Church.
It was there that the lines of Fate converged.
For there, a mighty angel of Death who exiled herself from Heaven worked. For there, the son of the one who had inherited the title of the Bloody Angel, studied, and who was born with but the faintest whisper of his father's power. For there, a female angel and a female devil had come to court - of all the children of that fell champion - a chance (unknowing to them) to win that which had been the one thing both loyal and rebel angel had desired ever since the Fall.
For there, a female devil and a female angel had come. For there, a mighty Angel of Death resided. For there, the son of one who had inherited the title of the Bloody Angel, studied, and who was born with but the faintest whisper of his father's power. For there, love, hate, hope, faith, ambition and dreams converged.
Kyoto High.
To be continued…
