From Nobody to Nightmare Chapter 8

Black Ice

Personal Life Insert

My friend Henry is currently in Greenland learning polar sciences as part of a summer program called JSEP. It's a joint program with the United States, Denmark, and Greenland governments focused on teaching biology, chemistry, and geology centered around the artics. He's measuring the water levels of a glacial lake close to Kangerlussuaq. Miraculously, they have wifi service over there so we were able to chat.

Henry tells me that he fell a lot at the ice caps and he's posted some pictures of him attempting to spot polar bears. No luck so far. Working on water is quite dangerous, but it can be a fun experience. He loves Greenland, but as a San Diegan, the experience has made him appreciate the kind weather back in Southern California.

I'd like to bring up this personal information about Henry because the glaciers in Greenland are melting, partly because of summertime, but are really melting due to climate change. I'm currently attending a summer program of my own (COSMOS) at the University of California San Diego, and many of my friends here are taking a course centered around oceanography and climate change. Humanity has left its mark upon the world in the enormous release of carbon dioxide and other greenhouse gases that contribute to global warming. Even in this ideally perfect San Diego weather, I already feel the changes. Last year in 2014 was the hottest recorded summer in the United States and the heat this year is not proving to be any better. The state of California is undergoing a serious drought in which we haven't seen significant rainfall in a long time. It's gotten to the point where regulations have limited the amount of water available to each household.

Sea levels are rising and will continue to rise even if humanity altogether stops its industrial and agricultural pollution of the environment. Many great cities around the world are vying to become the next Atlantis, and that includes my hometown San Diego. My favorite animals of the North, polar bears, are slowly dying of starvation. The polar ice caps are melting and that limits access to their main food source: seals. Sometimes I worry that when the next generation of children come along, all those animals in picture books won't exist anymore.


It was a few hours close to dawn when he was shaken out of his sleep. "Jacob, Jacob, it's time," Laylah hissed at him. Blinking away the grogginess of sleep, he shook off his confusion and immediately set out to help her pack. Food, clothes, everything was dumped into the easily portable tents. Never mind organization, that could be done later when they were safe and out of the city.

Adrenaline pumped through his blood, keeping him alert and awake. There was no need to use the hormone facilities of epinephrine, more like urgency made those needs incomparable to escape. His night vision was still running. Jacob's nocturne gaze cut across the room and went straight towards the wooden ladder bolted into the rock face. Laylah gestured for him to go up first, empty-handed. He clambered up and felt the swift tugs on his yearning muscles. It was a good feel, like doing morning exercises right after you wake up.

He reached the topmost extent of the ladder and felt his horns lightly brushing up against the metal grating. Gingerly positioning himself on the ladder so that his legs alone can support him, he allowed his free hands to push upwards and slide the metal rim back. From there, he darted upwards through the hole with his wings tucked tightly against his shoulders to fit through.

Laylah tossed him the bags from down below, and they performed this sort of conveyor belt thing. After all of the packages had been secured, Laylah hoisted herself up on the ladder, with her wings folded tightly behind her back. It was painful for the both of them having to fold in their wings. It was for the purpose of disguise; no one must know what they were in this place.

Well, it was fine for them to know Laylah, she would be well taken in. Their savior. But he? He would be hanged or even burned alive. Demon. Devil. Satan. They were all harsh words used to describe his kind and a whole cult of humanity was dedicated towards their utter eradication, not just in race and being, but in ideology as well. A frightening reality that he had stepped into, especially in this town of Lamarck.

They had avoided any large human settlement up to this point for the fear of discovery. Jacob was still too weak to fend for himself against human magicians who were always on the lookout for any subversive beings. Upon discovery…well, interrogation would be too kind of a word.

Laylah had only informed him of this late last night as they were about to make their escape. An Inquisitor had come knocking on Gallagher's door. He had no choice but to let them in and they searched the entirety of the inn and every room. Privacy was not a concern and many...lewd acts were halted midway that night. It's best to say that the innkeeper was not at all pleased to have two high-risk fugitives in his care.

The kitchens were empty this late at night and were only illuminated by a single candle in the room. The lone flame cast off long shadows in a dark room and barely showed you where things were. That sort of illumination was more than necessary. Jacob and Laylah pattered about on light feet past all the pots and pans cast aside in this room. The Inquisition was certainly rough with Gallagher that they left no stone unturned. Well, except the place where they actually hid. Jacob had heard them late last night, rummaging around his office but never discovering their hiding place.

From there, they went on into the main hallway. Here, lanterns hung on each side of the long corridor and led the way back to the common rooms. The inn was eerie at night, or early morning as it is now. It was usually a place of great public gathering, and sound would always echo from somewhere, whether that be from the rooms, the kitchen, or the pub. In this silence, it was ghost-dead. Just goes to show how sleep makes everyone vulnerable.

Onward into the pub, there was a single light and a dark figure hunched over the counter. He glanced up at their approaching figure and they could finally identify him. It was Gallagher, and his thick beard seemed to droop this morning. He was taking a swig out of one of his mighty, wooden tankards. It wasn't his own stock of butterbeer, but something more potent and alcoholic. Whiskey?

Gallagher's eyes were rimmed with red as he glared at them from under his thick brows. "I won't deny it, I'll be glad to see you gone. Bad business is the last of my worries when compared to death threats. You know why I did this for you old woman? It's because you promised to bless my daughter. And now she's dead."

There was a rapid change in personality to him. It was as if all the friendliness he had exhibited only a few hours ago were gone. Now, he was trying to drown out his sorrows in drink, not exactly caring that he was wasting his own profits. What exactly had the Inquisition done to him?

Laylah gave a sideways glance at him, as if he was an insignificant that drew her attention away from the ultimate goal. "Yes, I did. The Lord appreciates the loyalty you have proven to his servants tonight and you will be rewarded."

Gallagher sighed in defeat. "That's all that you offer, isn't it? Empty promises and broken dreams." The emotion in the man's voice was crushing and defeating to Jacob's ears. It drew his sympathy.

"I am a devout follower of the Lord. That is why I helped you tonight Laylah, as I have always helped you. I do not believe what those priests are spouting off, they make a mockery of the Lord in order to benefit themselves. But you, you're the closest thing to the real deal. And all you have given to those who've touched you is disappointment. Watch your back boy," Gallagher growled at Jacob. "She might stab you one day."

This harsh remark seemed to draw away Laylah's attention. Her face appeared cool and calm, but Jacob knew better. She was livid and ready to strike someone down. Never before had he insulted her this seriously, but every time he insulted her, she had always come back with a repercussion. Jacob just felt a need to apologize on Gallagher's behalf before the man's head was lost.

"Umm, Mr. Gallagher, we truly thank you for your hospitality." Gallagher raised an eyebrow. This was the first time that Jacob actually addressed him. "If it pleases you, we will take our leave now and you'll never have to see our likes again."

Gallagher just grunted. "What are you to her, boy?"

Jacob had no answer to that.

"Whatever it is…" he took a long draught and sighed in satisfaction with lips smacking and butterbeer dripping down into his beard, "you watch yourself around her."

Laylah stormed out ahead and slammed the door on her way out. He sheepishly smiled and apologized before hurrying up after her. On their way out, there was a sharp contrast between what was indoors and what was outdoors. The temperature had dropped now that they left the warm abode. The familiar scent of cloying sweetness was replaced by the sharp chill of clean and cold air.

Jacob turned to the angel standing at his side. The sun had started to rise from the east. Up here in the north, the warm rays never seemed to reach the inhabitants. Not only was the place cold, but the people even colder. Not even the warmth of the fireplace could change the nature of people, even one such as Gallagher could grow harsh when the fire was snuffed out.

Laylah flipped up her hood and started walking. Jacob ran a hand through his tousled hair. His fingertips brushed against the tips of his peaking horns. If he had gotten a haircut, they would be showing proudly. Laylah even insisted upon it, but for the sake of travel, he had to keep his hair long. After a few short months, it was now creeping down the nape of his neck and fanned out above his brow. It was important that he be able to pass himself off as a human when passing by human inhabited areas. Much easier to avoid a confrontation than win won. He flipped his hood up too, and relished at the softness of the furred fabric.

He had to wonder however. How did the captain of the watch notice him? It's not like he willingly revealed himself as a demon. No, that would be stupid and he would've lost his head for that. And what was this Inquisition that Laylah talked about?

The streets were still dark and unlit. The sky was still that shade of indigo where you could make out where things were, but not really be able to define them. The fur of his moccasins muffled the clopping of his hooves upon rough and uneven cobblestone. There was a slight discomfort in pretending to be something else, something that wasn't in his nature to be. But he knew he must do it. As evidenced by his clothing, the only problem was if he did it well.

They came on top of a hill

There was a shout of a man from behind them, calling for reinforcements in his harsh northern tongue. "Intruders! Intruders within the streets!" Jacob got his answer then. Laylah told him he had terrible fashion preferences. Perhaps she was right. The man was dressed in peculiar red robes, like that of the men of faith he had seen during his travels. The robes hung off his arms like great volumes of excess fat and was long. Long enough that it extended down to his feet and brushed the ground upon which he stood.

He had to wonder, how that man could bear to run around and get those wonderfully embroidered hems sullied. Maybe he didn't run. Monks weren't known for being in shape.

Jacob lifted a hand and pointed an index finger at the monk in the shape of a futuristic weapon no one yet knew about. He willed for the frigid northern air around him to blow in the direction of his finger. A gust came downwards in a curve right in front of the man before coming back up and flipping the ends of his robes over his face. He watched in satisfaction as the man tumbled over.

The monk cried in rage before flipping back up from where he lay on the ground. Jacob only got a glance of white fabric from his undergarments and grimaced as he failed to turn away in time. Not a pretty sight, but it can't be helped.

The bald man dashed towards them. He was moving too fast for a human. He's almost on top of me! Glints of silver appeared from the depths of the monk's robes. In a flurry of fabric and a swing of limbs, the monk raised his hands upwards, allowing Jacob the brief view of a wooden hilt etched with runes. Then there was a burning slash on Jacob's forearms as he raised them to block the descending blow.

Hidden blades. Damn.

His heart pumped fast in advance for the increased physical activity. Jacob swung his moccasin covered hoof against the warrior monk's chest, delivering a powerful blow that would've caved in his chest cavity. Except it didn't.

The monk was still standing, and that act only succeeded in pushing him back a few feet. Then there came a second kick, a side-swing that swept the man's face to the ground and rendered him unconscious. This time, it came from a different foot.

"Well it was about time, Laylah."

"You were holding out on your own just fine." She came to stand stoically next to him, with her feet planted firmly apart upon the now blood spattered cobblestone.

"We should really run," he grunted, then fell to his knees. The thing about adrenaline is that it warns you about the imminent pain just a little bit too late. Now, it hits you face first like an ox driven cart at full speed and all you can think about is the pain. His slashed forearms were now burning unnaturally. Jacob watched with blackening vision as his flesh smoldered-muscles and tendons withering away. Damn, why didn't we carry our weapons outside of the bags?

Laylah rushed over to his side. She had a seriously worried look on her face that just shouted what's wrong with you! Her light caress over his arms was anything but soothing. "A sacred weapon. Doused in holy water before use and coupled with some pretty harsh runes. This is the work of exorcists."

"Hold on. מגניב, להרגיע, לרפא. Cool, soothe, heal," she chanted it over and over until the blistering pain faded away and was replaced by an incessant itching. It was so unbearable that he had to squirm in agony to satisfy the urge to itch, but the iron grip Laylah had on his arms didn't let him go anywhere. "Oh no you don't. Let it heal."

He whimpered over and over until the tremors went away. The tribulations felt like ages before it finally ended, leaving him physically and mentally exhausted. He leant over to smile at her and asked, "Laylah, I don't feel like running anymore. Care to carry me?"

She chuckled. "Oh, I don't think we can run in our current state."

She mentioned 'our' which really puzzled him. He was the only one wounded here. As his senses gradually returned to him, he noticed people off in the distance surrounding them. A crowd. More like a mob-of soldiers. They all wielded halberds whose tips pointed menacingly in their direction, ready to stab and pierce. Laylah and Jacob were boxed in by a ring of steel, with their backs held up against the cold stone walls of an alley.
That was the problem with this land. It was cold. Cold stone walkways, cold beds, cold soup, even the sun was cold. Whether you lived or died, the cold was forever there, lying overhead like a constant sword held only by a piece of thread. Now, they were probably going to die.

The ring of steel parted to reveal two individuals. The duo walked through the lines of soldiers and one of them revealed himself to be a familiar figure. It was that hard, square face placed under the cap of an iron helm. The captain of the wall guard. The man next to him stood in regal red robes with a necklace of wooden beads spilling over his chest. On his wrists were bracelets of the wooden cross. If Jacob had to put a word for him, never had he seen a man so decorated in cheap jewelry.

"Captain, well met," Laylah spoke. She turned to the robed man, "and you must be the Inquisitor of this fair town."

"And you are without a doubt the unabashed trespassers of this here town. Nonhumans the both of you clearly are. Demons more like," the Inquisitor said with a drawl staring at Jacob's now scarred hands. "Possessing within you the ability to counter holy spells and wound one of our dear brothers of the faith. This brutality is exactly what makes your kind unfit to live on this Earth given to us by God."

"Inquisitor, you no doubt are a reasonable man and it is not without reason that you didn't kill us outright-"

"Ah yes, you're right. Finish them!" He waved his hands and Jacob half expected for the ring of steel to close in and spear his his heart(s).

But that command brought out a different kind of motion. Just several meters in his range of vision, several people drew their hands back and placed them in front of some curved objects. Recurve bows to be exact, which makes them archers. Sharpshooters from atop the roofs. These humans are clever indeed. We never would've picked them up.

Bow strings were pulled back and fletched feathers brushed against their cheeks. His heightened vision could see it all from meters away. His curved ear tips finally picked up the twang as the pressure was released and the arrowheads were allowed to fly. Jacob closed his eyes. He couldn't bear to look the cause of his death right in the face.

He waited and waited but the piercing pain never came. Nor was there a loss in conscious that would result from a direct hit to his cranium. He opened his eyes to see a shade of utter white brilliance reflecting the morning sunlight into- "multifaceted rainbows," he breathed.

Laylah had thrown up her wings just in time to protect them, but judging from the gasps from the people outside, her secret was out. She still hugged him tight and close to her chest. "Don't close your eyes when you're about to die Jacob. Look at Death right in the face like an old friend. He gave you up in the beginning and he shall receive you at the end."

Her white wing parted to reveal the pair to the crowd of humans, who gazed on in ever growing shock, awe, and a hint of fear. "Don't want to die just yet? " she asked, her voice loud and unwavering. "Kill and throw Death something fresher."

Her other black wing unfolded from her back, expanding and enveloping into a much larger space. Jacob can only imagine that to the onlookers, Laylah was a puzzling figure of black and white, knowing not whether to trust or be wary. It was so large that it forced the halberdiers back several steps in fright. Their ring of steel was breaking-there was a chance to break out.

"Hold your fire!" the captain of the guard yelled. "It's an angel. An angel! What blasphemy do you dare commit by raising your hand against an angel?" He chastised them with fire in his words, and there it was again, the hint of fear. The man took off his iron helmet, revealing his closely shaved and balding hair, before bending the knee.

"Ms. Ariel now was it? Or should I call you Angel Ariel? I am deeply ashamed of my men's actions and offer my most humble apologies in not knowing the true identity and significance of such a visitor to Lamarck."

Laylah was unarmed, yet her stance bespoke aggression. Her expression on the other hand was one of calm fury. "For a man with greater religious conviction, I don't see you bowing too, Inquisitor."

The red-robed man hurriedly fell to his knees and prostrated himself before her. "My-my most humble apologies." Seeing the Inquisitor's actions, the rest of the crowd bowed before Laylah. Rows upon rows of people submitted themselves to just one soul. It was a sight that caused chills in Jacob. All the hairs on his body seemed to lift and quiver. It was a good feeling to be on top.

"I-I will have the men who fired upon you hanged if that so pleases you, Angel Ariel." The watchman didn't so much as raise his head as he suggested the deaths of his own men. Just goes to show how fanatical people can really get over religion.

"That won't be necessary." This time it was Jacob who spoke out. He gathered himself up on unsteady feet and felt the attention of the crowd focusing on him. They didn't look at him, no. Which made the task of public speaking all the more easier.

"You who dared lay your hand and intended harm upon the sanctity of Heaven. We are very displeased." He paused here and glared at any who would dare look up from their position on the ground. "However, Heaven is not without mercy. You have restricted us in our travels. We would be overly pleased if you would help accelerate our journey." For once, he was glad that his hooves allowed him to stand tall.

"Procure these items," Laylah called, finally stepping in and taking charge from Jacob. She shot him a glare that warned him not to interfere. Whoops, too late. She rattled off a list of supplies to the head watchman. When she was done, she dismissed the watchman.

"Now, on to other business…" Laylah glared at the still kneeling Inquisitor. You have dared take the life of my dear disciple, Meliorne." She unsheathed Needle from her pack and swung it in a wide arc to her side, for all to see. "Heaven demands retribution. Is there any among you here who denies my claim?"

Her eyes glared out over the crowd, now blood red with fury. Jacob could only stare at her in shock, his body frozen in terror. Was she really going to do what I think she's going to do? She raised the sword above her head into a two-hand grip and whether it was a trick of the light, the thin fencing blade lengthened and thickened into what he could imagine was an executioner's sword.

"Seeing none," she adjusted her grip on her now massive sword into a better position for a downwards swing. "Kneel and accept your punishment with grace."

The Inquisitor shook his head, and begged for mercy. He was whimpering, murmuring hearsays like "I would never do it again" and "Please, Heaven forgive." He had truly done nothing wrong, Jacob found no fault in the man. He was about to speak out to Laylah to spare the man, but his voice caught in his throat. His protests died and his eyes widened. Laylah had already swung.

The blade came down like the legendary sword above Damocles' head had once done, its string finally snipped. Laylah swung with all her might, the blade coming down in a barely visible blur to that of the onlookers. Jacob saw it differently. With his heightened senses, that particular moment seemed to him like a horror film shown in 0.5 speed. Laylah's eyes, normally a dull maroon like that of decaying rust was alive like bloody fire. There was a certain hint of madness in her enragement. Sunlight glinted off of Needle x Executioner's sword. Then he blinked. And everything sped up back again.

A silent 'shink' echoed as flesh departed from bone. The Inquisitor's head went flying into the crowd, sinew and muscle cleanly and evenly cut with the downward vertical slice delivered by Laylah. Then there was the resounding, earsplitting screech as the sword slammed down onto the stone floor. The force of the impact left a spiderweb of cracks and a small crater of shattered stone.

Laylah's silver hair covered her face as she bent down, still in the pose after striking down the Inquisitor. Her breathing came out rough and heaving, not from physical exertion, but from the unsatisfying fury of not doing enough to make the man suffer. The crowd remained silent, all eyes on them. The Inquisitor's head lay forgotten. Everyone hovered around in fear over her next words.

"Back to your business! What are you standing around for?" she howled as she finally stood up, using her sword as support. The onlookers quickly and quietly scurried away, back to their houses. There was an audible slamming and locking of doors and windows, as if any conspicuous detail of inhabitation would make them the next ones to die at the angel's hands.

At that moment, Jacob thought that she was the one more demonic than he.

They quickly received their supplies in a brown burlap sack from the watchman, who left as quickly as the rest. The whole ordeal lasted about half an hour, and the sun was just beginning to make its slow and curved ascent through the sky. In the northern hemisphere, especially in winter time, they could count on it to shine only for a few measly hours.

Jacob and Laylah returned to their journey of making it North. The duo made their way to the docks of Lamarck first. The surrounding rings of houses finally ended here, above a rocky outcropping that led down to the sea. A large wooden walkway, spanned down towards the beach.

The rocks around here were as dark as the weather. Altogether, they morphed into a sheltered cove that proved to be a natural harbor. Two lighthouses were situated at opposite ends of the cove, providing a perfect range of operability for passing ships to travel. Currently, both lighthouses were unlit and unmanned; the shipping season had come to a close for the winter due to unpredictable and treacherous weather. The docks were empty as well, he noticed. Normally, a few people would be left around here who would come to solicit in this economical part of town. Now there was no one around. He guessed that news travels fast when a psychotic angel was heading your way.

All this time, Jacob hadn't spoke a word to Laylah. He was greatly disturbed by her actions. She had murdered a man in cold blood, and he was the one left guessing. He knew that she did it for him, she did it to protect him. They were the people who went after him and harmed him, but wasn't she the person who argued that one should be compassionate? Didn't the teachings of the Lord say that one has to be willing to forgive someone who wronged them? Jacob wasn't seriously injured or anything, thanks to Laylah's healing.

He knew that he was the one who should be mad, yet Laylah was the one who did it in his place. Killing that man really wasn't what he wanted. A few weeks ago, that would've been on his life goals as a demon. But Laylah was the one who taught him better, to not seek revenge, to not stain one's hands with blood.

It wasn't the first time that these ideals were brought into his life. His parents tried their darndest to teach him these things. They said that senseless violence was exactly that, for the senseless. Demons had the potential to do so much better and to be so much better. They could cooperate as a society of one, but instead they were split into factions and races, fighting one another for dominance and resources. Much could be accomplished with peace, and nothing could be attained from war.

He ignored that peaceful mindset. His friends and playmates scoffed at these ideals and instead resorted to the traditional sense of governance, survival of the fittest. Those who were the strongest could be at the top of the hierarchy and could own it all. That thought was a straight shot of addiction to a young demon. To want it all and to have it all.

The problem with that mindset was that only a few could succeed. Only a select elite could prosper. The select few who could grow into the cruelest and the strongest. Jacob, curse his genetic origins, took after a herbivore for a mother and a wingless goblin for a father. He hadn't a chance of getting to the top of that hierarchy with mindless, bruteful force.

Laylah taught him differently in a way that left an impression. Dictatorship. Whatever her ideals happened to be, whatever Heaven happened to stand for, it was also his reality, albeit forced upon. There was no arguing against it, it was just simply factual truth. "God knows best and God knows all. So why question him?" she would say. Blind faith wasn't his avenue of thought. He wanted the deep reasoning behind things.

When pressed, Laylah would sit him down and tell him that helping others is supposed to be in everyone's nature. "Sometimes I don't think that God gave 10 Commandments for us to follow, but only one. And that is to help others. Even demons, you help your own young and your own kin. Now if only you could do that with every other species…" she would ruffle his head playfully and they'd break out into laughter.

Well they weren't laughing now. Jacob turned to her and tried to utter her name, "Laylah-" but she had to cut him off.

"Speak your mind or don't. I know what you want to ask me. It's been bothering you these whole 20 minutes." Ahh, the mind reading thing.

He thought carefully about it and mulled his thoughts carefully. She might not know what was in his immediate mind and it just felt wrong to leave thoughts unsaid. "I know that what you did back there was for me. It was for my safety, my protection. I am your disciple and those who dare lay a hand on me by extension has laid a hand on you.

You are within your rights to retaliate as you did. However, the moral reasoning may not be justified. Why though? Why did you do have to kill him?"

She turned to him with a blank face: gaunt, cold and expressionless. It was even more frightening than when she was mad, at least then he could guess what her motives are. "Usually, a person isn't concerned for the people they hardly know. So why the bother? It's not required of you, it's not expected of you. Yet you do it anyways. The real question here Jacob is why? Why did you react like that?"

He clenched his teeth in anger and balled his hands into a tight fist. "In the name of common decency, why shouldn't you be concerned over someone, over anyone who's hurt? It was you who taught me that and here I see you doing quite the opposite. I see a hypocritical angel who preaches good and does bad. You're not the angel who I've come to respect."

"Well you're right!" she broke out. The strain around her voice started to show and her facade of indifference started to crack. "My job here is to get my hands sullied. Your job is to sit and watch. What do you think I am? What do you think we angels are? Models of perfection? Hah, don't make me laugh." With her hair whipped wild and her eyes widened, she bordered on the depths of madness.

"Someone's got to do the dirty work around here. That Inquisitor with his head now lopped off, committed grave sins. He tortured as well as execute innocent civilians. He turned away refugees who came to the town and left them out to die in the icy desert wastes. Those refugees number in the hundreds. You could easily have been one of them." That last part she uttered with a faint breath. It was hard to hear, but the echoes paired with her lip movements convinced him that she said that.

"Everyone around here are sinners and only we can be forgiven. We do the biddings of the Lord to purge this world of the most wicked and unworthy. This is the fate of an avenging angel. Do you understand, Jacob?"

She appealed to his worst memories and emotions. The desperation of survival. The harder struggle that made him break down and cry. Those desert days were painfully fresh in his mind. Gazing around at the rocky outcroppings and the icy tundra, this place wasn't much different compared to the desert in which he himself survived from. Thinking back to the days when the boys of his village played around, they hadn't a consideration for the weaker. It was either bloody or be bloodied.

"Everybody's a sinner. I care about this because there shouldn't be anymore sin. You say that Heaven is a better place, where this pain and suffering exists not. You as a being of Heaven are better than that. You've stooped down to the level of sinners. That shouldn't even be possible. Just, uggh!" He paced around her in a circle. This level of frustration just wanted him to clutch at his head and tear his hair out.

No, no. Calm down. You need the hair to keep on passing off as a human.

"Well Jacob, tell me. What could I have done back there that was different? How would you have wanted this to end? Was there anyway that Justice could have been done?" she asked with her arms crossed one over the other. Laylah seemed to have calmed down a bit by now, but still had that face that said 'one more wrong word and I am so ready to disown you.'

"I-I don't know." He was lost and defeated. What could he have done? Taken the man into custody and take him along on their journey? No. Who would be the one to deal out Justice? God. But he was postponing that until Judgement Day, according to the Holy Book. Let him be and have him continue on in his job? No. More crimes would have been committed.

"What do you do when there is an evil you cannot defeat by just means? Do you stain your hands with evil to destroy evil, or do you remain steadfastly just and righteous even if it means surrendering to evil?"

He finally understood it now. Justice out here in this wild and untamed land was the one that you dealt out. Those who were in charge had the responsibility of maintaining order, whatever resemblance that may be. Then there needs to be those who makes sure those in power were doing their job. Laylah was judge, jury and executioner and by her angelic status as a servant of God, she was therefore right.

Even those human institutions that purport themselves as servants of God might be false. They hide behind his holy name to commit acts of villainy that abuse their boundaries and the rights of others just to further themselves. It just goes to show that nothing is ever perfect or as it seems. Are angels the only things that are capable of delivering true Justice and Judgement from the Lord? Well, he would just have to see.

"You commit evil. The end result outweighs the means of obtaining it," he replied. His voice was firm and his stance confident. He said it with every moral fiber in his being protesting against it. This was so wrong on so many levels, but it was the only avenue of freedom that was realistically attainable.

Laylah's blood red eyes blinked and they returned to their rustic maroon shade. It seems she was calm now. He had successfully defused her. Whew! She swiveled around on the balls of her feet, with the grace of a dainty ballerina but also with the form and rigidity of a soldier, to face the sea. "Look over yonder. What is it that you see?"

The northern sea was gray and frothy. Brine swirled up in swells only to spill over onto the wooden beams of the pier. Fine spray misted over Jacob's face, bringing with it the tanginess of cold sea breeze.

"A brewing storm."

"Yes, that too," Laylah murmured offhandedly, "but what else?"

"I don't know what you want me to see," Jacob growled. He was still begrudgingly mad at her for forcing her rhetoric down his throat. What does she want him to see?

"Use your eyes. Like really use them."

She of course meant his enhanced vision. Demonic eyes can pick things out at a distance of half a league on a bright and sunny day. Whatever she wanted him to see must be small indeed.

"עיניים חידדו-sharpened eyes." There was a dizzying lurch as the lenses in his eyes zoomed into unnatural levels. The distant gray clouds that he was seeing turned into blinding, brilliant white. The sun apparently shone on that patch of sea while a storm brewed. A strange phenomenon in and of itself. People likened that when the sun shone while it was raining, it meant that the Devil was beating his wife.

He zoomed out for a bit and saw the full view.

"An iceberg," he breathed. It was amazing. A massive sheet of ice with a height of 20 meters rose above the water's surface. He couldn't judge the distance it was from here, but it must have been very close. About a couple leagues away at best.

"That, is where we're headed. It will take us North."

"I thought icebergs broke away from glacial sheets and often headed south to melt," Jacob breathed. Its size was massive and that was all that he could see above the water. The underbelly of it must be huge!

"Well...this one's special."

He gave her a critical stare, all the frustration from before already evaporated. "You mean to say you called it here?"

Laylah only blinked. "The Angel of the North sends his well wishes Jacob. Best accept it." With that, she took off on wings of radical white and radiant black, and not a single glance back to see if he was following.

Well there was no need, he sighed in exasperation. He was going to follow her anyways. Jacob' leather backed wings flared out, and their claw tips held up to his ear. His flight muscles were young and nimble. They yearned to flap. They yearned to soar.

He took off running across the wooden pier. The soaked wooden boards gave a satisfying thud as his hoofed feet dashed over them. Wet spray glanced across his face. The end of the pier quickly came into view. A smile slowly creeped across his lips before he reached the end of the walkway and threw himself over the railing and into the churning waters.

Jacob gave a wild whoop of joy as he fell. His leather wings flapped hard and propelled him above and over the water. His vision, still enhanced, locked onto Laylah's shrinking form.

"To the black ice, and the angel with a black heart."


Author's Note

I know I spiced things up in the Insert this chapter. It's quite true. My friend is off in Greenland and I do live in San Diego, California. I've never really shared much about my personal life, so let's continue that in later chapters. You're not here to learn about me, you're here to learn about...Maou-sama!

I had one quote planned out, but the context of this chapter was just too different to use it. I didn't mean for this chapter to go on this long on this topic, but I think it's something worth exploring. The moral standards and the inner, personal workings of the individual are paramount to the future decisions that they will make later on in life. Jacob's is interesting to plot out and explore. He's essentially raised as a morally correct individual, while his true identity calls for something beyond that. Now that he has met someone who shares that same moral conviction, he sees the hypocrisy in the acts that she commits.

This will mark a turning point in morals as well as innocence for our young Jacob.

Next time, and I do mean next time, I believe we should build a snowman. I mean, do you guys want to?