Next chapter, whoooo! Still barely get any reviews…. Grrr…… If you are out there, just reading with a "Oh, I just read, I don't have the time or I don't know what to put." You know what you are? Lazy! Damn bone idle. Here I am, making these things for you, and you don't even have the decency to thank me… I mean, it takes me over a week to update, surely you can managed to write one teensy review? Anyway, good things come to those who wait, and this huge chapter ought to compensate.
Sorry to those who DO review, you lot are great. Forgive my rant.
By the way, Lain of Avalon is again my Beta reader. YAY!
Scripture IV - Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.
It felt like a sickness, a sweeping plague that coursed throughout him, pulsing in waves, making his limbs feel weak and tense at the same time, making his heart beat double time. Even as his hands clenched and unclenched.
Fear.
He knew that was the case, just as much as he knew who were the cause. Sin. Sin was like a dark cloud, a gas that seemed to swirl around creatures of evil. It could not be seen, it could only be felt. In his time he had seen evil people, the Fallen were evil. Some men were evil.
But never had he encountered so much of it, seeping from two individuals who, on the outside, looked so innocent. He had always sworn that if he met a mortal he would judge him based on his actions, and not make assumptions. But that had been easy to vow, when he didn't have the evidence in front of him, battering at his senses like a hurricane against a window pane.
Cautiously his eyes searched for them. The tall blonde woman was sat at a table, a steaming cup of liquid before her. He seemed to remember hearing it called tea. She was simply sitting there drinking, doing nothing else. That worried him, she could be readying herself for anything. As soon as he took his eyes off her, he would be vulnerable to her. Sin seeped from her, but the knowledge seemed not to bother her.
Quickly he located the other, sitting on a stool by the window, she had her back to him, but he still felt watched by her. She looked melancholy, her back was hunched and he knew that her face rested on her hands as she stared into nothingness. If it had been anyone else he would have gone to her, asked her what was wrong. But he could remember those eyes so well.
Those deep dark pools of ultimate oblivion. They had looked at him with such emptiness. Such lack of emotion, that he could imagine her killing him, driving a knife into him with that same expression. There was a girl who had seen life's evils first hand, so much that she could no longer even feel emotion at them. She had obviously suffered much. But just as obviously had been corrupted. He was surprised that they were not allied to the Fallen.
He knew that they were not. The Fallen held servants like slaves, none in their service would ever dare to harm an Angel. Yet he knew that they had killed the other. Even though when he had awoken the body was nowhere to be seen.
He had not dared to ask what they had done with it.
He knew not what they wanted with him, he was unsure if he wanted to know. But one thing was sure, it could be nothing good.
Mireille felt his eyes upon her, those crystalline colourless orbs, she continued to drink her tea without turning. Waiting until his eyes had left her to go elsewhere. He was healed, they had done what Kirika had wanted them to do. So why was he still here? She knew why. He feared to leave.
Not fear of the world outside, but fear of how the two assassins would take his leaving. Worried that Kirika and herself did not want him to leave, and would forcibly stop him from doing so. He acted like a whipped dog around them, cringing whenever one of their eyes met his, backing away whenever one of them tried to get past him. Submitting in every way to them.
Mireille knew that he feared them, it had shown in the first words to come from his mouth. She also knew that it was not good for Kirika, to hear those words come from a person she had tried to save. The small Asian was currently sitting at the window, a picture of abject misery. Mireille felt a small trill of anger seep through her. Who was he? To decide that Kirika was evil? When all the girl had done was help him?
Calming herself down Mireille tore her gaze from Kirika's slumped back, it shouldn't bother her that Kirika was being treated unjustly, after all the girl was merely a means to an end. And yet, it did bother her. Maybe because this was the first time that Kirika had tried to do something good, something nice, and he rebuffed her efforts. It wasn't fair.
But then, nothing ever was in the business.
Regardless perhaps the situation could be used to their advantage? Mireille was anything if not curious about the origin of this creature. Maybe he could be persuaded to share with them his secrets.
"Kirika?" Mireille spoke out after a moment's pause, making the young man jump, Kirika merely turned to regard her with an empty expression. "And you," Mireille spoke, looking him in his colourless eyes, he nodded hesitantly. "Come here, we have things to discuss."
The angel, if that was what he was came quickly, only a slight hesitation in his step as he sat on a stool she indicated. Shifting his weight to get comfortable, although Mireille suspected that it was to allow him time to think. Surprisingly it was Kirika who hesitated in coming forwards, but the moments pause had been so quick that Mireille barely noticed it. But notice it, she did.
Is she afraid of him? Or perhaps his fear hurts her?
"I'll make this quick, who are you and what do you want?" She demanded of the man, who looked down at his hands. She let him think to himself, sure that he would answer her in time. Surely enough his fear of what they might do overweighed his caution.
"I am Ramiel, Knight apprentice of the Order of Michael. An angel of low ranking, I was sent here on a routine scouting mission when I was ambushed by one of the Fallen. We fought and then I ended up crashing into your window and blacking out." His voice was soft, and Mireille was sure that most women would find it musical and alluring, lucky that she wasn't most women then.
"Tell me about Angels, and this Fallen." Mireille commanded, trying her best not to sound like a gleeful child looking for a bedtime story. Again there was barely a pause as he answered her.
"Angels are as you know them we are divine beings, white of wing and live in our sanctuary. We serve the Father and look after mortals. Or that was what we once did, now we are at war with the Fallen and cannot spare the men to protect the mortal world."
Mireille was beginning to feel that she didn't want to know this, that perhaps the knowledge alone would make living a good deal harder, but her natural curiosity soon got the better of her.
"The Fallen," he began again, "were once Angels, who succumbed to desire, avarice or greed and forsook the way of the Light, serving only in Darkness. They are evil beings with wings as black as their souls. Cold of heart and yet powerful they wish the destruction of everything that lives in all the worlds. They must be hunted down and killed!" His voice at the end was harsh and filled with hate, and his hands were clenched on the table. Again Mireille was struck with a premonition, that this was not a good idea.
Best to end it then. They didn't need the stress that involvement in a divine war would give them. They worked for money, not a spot on God's supper table.
"Can you get back to Heaven from here?" Mireille asked in a calm voice. Ramiel graced her with a suspicious look but did answer.
"Yes, there are portals all over the world to the Divine Sanctuary, it would take me but a little while to find the one in this city." Mireille nodded in reply, she had expected such. It made sense for this "Heaven" to exist elsewhere than in the sky, after all someone would have found it if such.
"Can you hide your wings?" She asked again, and received just a nod in reply. So they could walk around among them and they would never know. Mireille had to wonder if they'd killed any angels.
"Then go." She suddenly commanded, making the Angel's eyes go wide in confusion and sudden hope, "We're not holding you here. We've healed you and now you can go, but you never met us, understand?" The last was added with a dangerous tone of voice, leaving no doubt in the Angel's mind what she meant.
"Y-yes... yes I understand. Thank you. I'll go now!" He managed to stutter out, climbing swiftly off the stool and stumbling to the door. It opened easily and he stepped out into the corridor, swiftly closing it behind him, as if to ward off sudden bullets.
Mireille turned back to Kirika, noticing the almost glum expression on her face.
"I told you, we can't just help everyone, they're never grateful. Always judging." Mireille tried to explain, Kirika nodded in reply but still looked depressed.
"Oh come on, get into something nice we'll go to that Italian place that does the nice ice cream, hmm?" The depressed look was wiped away almost instantly as Kirika bobbed her head and made a small sound in the affirmative, before rushing off to get changed.
Hmm, she may be a killer on the outside, but inside she's still just a little girl. At least now she wouldn't act so depressed.
And as Mireille wandered into the bathroom for a quick shower, she had to wonder why she cared.
Ramiel left the building in a calm manner, despite the itchy sensation of having his wings tucked inside his own back. It was always an unpleasant feeling, literally having your wings brushing against your internal organs. But in truth he barely cared, nor did he care for the curious stares he was receiving because of his peculiar clothes. He had not thought of creating an illusion, and now it was too late to do so. Besides, he had never been good at the Arcane arts.
There was sin all around him now, and yet he barely noticed it, perhaps being in the presence of those two had made him realise how little sin this actually was. He was still amazed that they had let him go, and even more they were not following him. They wanted nothing in return, and were not trying to find their way to the Sanctuary, not that they could even get inside.
Still it made him think, they had such sin, and yet were only kind to him... Maybe that sin had been a long time ago? No, unlikely the two were still young, and the sin was fresh. He would have to ask Michael when next he saw him. The Archangel was always willing to answer questions, and was wiser than any that Ramiel knew.
The Parisian streets were crowded, and it was sometimes difficult for him to push his way through them, yet no one threatened him, and there didn't seem to be any Fallen Angels in hiding here. Perhaps Paris was not a good city for them? After all, they normally had a strong presence in all the cities.
Never mind. He wasn't that far from the Gateway. He had never used the Paris Gate, never having been here, but he could still feel it. Like a sense of ... a colour. That was the only way to explain it. It was like a patch of whitish blue that he could see only in his mind. Attracting him to it if he latched his attention onto it. His feet followed the route, never once going wrong as it took him into an abandoned building.
The Gates were always in poorly visited areas, seeing a person disappear would be a rather unsettling experience for a mortal, so the Gates were placed with care. Only an Archangel could move or place a Gate, and they were willing to do so to keep the Mortals ignorant.
"Ignorance is bliss, they say." He whispered to himself as he ran his hand down the wall, to anyone else it looked wooden, but to him it was made of pure white marble. Time to go home.
As he placed his hand in the centre and invoked entrance to the Sanctuary the wall seemed to shimmer as holy white light engulfed him.
"Target located." A soft voice spoke in the depths of the night, the human jumped as he heard the voice coming from what he was sure had simply been a shadow a moment before. The man ran his hand carefully over his assault shotgun, making sure that all eight cartridges were snugly in place.
"You want that we take them out?" Another voice spoke, he recognised it as one of his subordinates. Again he waited for instructions from the sibilant voice, he himself might have been the leader of this band. But he held no doubts that he would be killed for interrupting.
"Dangerous the situation could become if left alone. Proceed as planned, all obstacles are to be removed. This must be their last night."
The man bowed in reply, making his subservience obvious, it would not do to be killed unnecessarily.
"You heard him," He shouted to his men, "Move out!" As they quickly filed out the back of the lorry he made to follow. But was stopped by a cold hand on his shoulder.
Turning around he looked up into eyes that were a beautiful aqua blue, and yet the rest of the face was pale and emotionless, with ragged pure white hair. Those eyes were fixed on his as the hand clamped firmly down.
"Interference cannot be ignored. Rewards come to those loyal to our cause. But to those who betray us comes only death. It is a shame that you cannot pass this message onto those who truly hold your loyalty."
"Fuck." He whispered, knowing full way that denying it was useless, angrily he shoved the shotgun into the Fallen Angel's stomach, but before he could pull the trigger he was spinning. His vision swirling madly as he tried to feel what was going on. His limbs felt strange, and his neck ached. As he landed painfully on the floor he felt his eyes widen in shock at what he saw.
Not two paces away from him his body was still in the grips of the creature, his own body, minus it's head.
"An eternal life of pain awaits you." The voice whispered as the man's vision clouded in death. "An eternity of Anguish."
"You finished?" Mireille asked of Kirika, who had indeed obviously finished her ice cream and was sitting back with a blank look on her face. A time before this would have perturbed her, but she had become a little better at discerning the emotions in those looks, and Mireille could see the contentment in this look.
"Hmm-hmm." Kirika uttered In the affirmative as Mireille placed a large note down on top of the bill and left the restaurant, quietly favouring their waiter with a smile of thanks. She knew that the young man had been rather enthusiastic about making sure everything was alright, for obvious reasons, but he had been nice to them and it cost her nothing to be gracious in reply.
"I think he likes you." Kirika spoke to her, in a subdued voice which almost sounded like a whisper, the voice was noncommittal, not caring about what that might mean. Mireille knew the waiter liked her, he was a handsome young man with long light brown hair in a ponytail, and bright green eyes. Perhaps five feet ten. Had Mireille been a normal woman leading a normal life she might have considered flirting with him. But too many weights were upon her shoulders now to think of such trivial matters.
"Hmm." Mireille grunted and shrugged to her partner. Nothing would come of it, and to him it was obviously just a childish infatuation. "Shall we catch a cab?" She asked of her small partner, knowing that Kirika liked walking more, and this was pretty much Kirika's night.
"I don't mind." Kirika answered quietly in reply making Mireille sigh. Instead of answering she merely walked away towards their apartment, waiting for Kirika to catch up to her. It was late now, almost eleven at night, Paris never slept of course, yet the streets they walked down were almost entirely empty of life. Even the buildings seemed empty, not a single light present.
"It's a nice night." Mireille said after a while, feeling a strange need to break the silence between them. It was a nice night she realised, the stars were out in force and the moon was full. Not a single cloud marked the sky.
"Yes." Kirika answered in reply, staring up at the stars as well, there was a childlike wonder in her voice, the way any young person might sound when they first saw something amazing. Everything was like that for Kirika, even after she had seen it a million times before.
"Hey, hon." A feminine voice interrupted from the side of them, making Mireille quickly spin around with her hand in her bag, gripping the reassuring weight of her Walther P99. Beside them, a woman had managed to almost silently approach them, perhaps even fooling Kirika? Or maybe Kirika had heard her and judged her not a threat, as always Kirika's blank mask refused to tell.
The woman was quite tall, and willowy. With a slim body wrapped in faded light denim jeans and a red T-shirt, under an open black sleeveless jacket. Her skin was slightly tanned and her eyes were a deep hazel. Long reddish hair flowed behind her and over her shoulders.
"Who are you?" Mireille calmly asked, not making a move to remove her hand from her bag, the woman had obviously noticed it, and knew some kind of weapon was being held ready.
"I'm just hear to warn you hon, that's all. If I were you I'd run now. People are hunting you. And someone not quite human, yet far more dangerous." Her tone was deep, a soft caressing tone and Mireille immediately suspected her of having wandered out of the red light district.
"Thank you... Do you know where they are?" Mireille slowly replied, not quite sure how far to trust this strange woman.
"Sure! They're..." She broke off for a second before her face twisted in sudden shock. "Shit, they're here! Damn it RUN!" She shouted quickly, taking her own advice and legging it down the alleyway. Mireille span on the spot as she heard a silenced gunshot. Running towards them were four burly men, each armed with silenced pistols.
Mireille quickly ducked down and to the side, ripping out her Walther and firing off six successive shots towards them with acceptable accuracy. One man fell, his face bleeding out his lifeblood and another was hit low in the shin, falling to the floor with a cry.
Kirika shot the grounded man easily in the neck, and brought down another with one single shot. The last man was hidden behind a thick wall and didn't seem to want to play.
"That wasn't so bad," Mireille muttered to herself, this didn't feel like Soldats. Those encounters were always much more difficult. This felt like just a simple murder case... Except they had attacked them in the middle of a street.
"Mireille.. someone's coming." Kirika's quiet voice suddenly echoed, tearing Mireille's eyes from the cowering man and bringing them up the street. Indeed someone was walking calmly down the narrow road. Unarmed and dressed in dark grey and black. Mireille could make out bright white hair, but the late night and the shadows hid anything else from her as he walked forwards.
No time for this. She thought to herself as she shot dead at him, the bullet screaming down the road towards his chest. Out of no where a dark scythe appeared and sliced the bullet in two, making Mireille freeze at the impossible feat.
Before either of them could react the man, who was still two hundred feet away, swung his scythe expertly in a vertical sweep, before slicing it through the ground in front of him and towards him. A large explosion erupted in the floor as the weapon passed through it, causing the walls of the buildings to buckle and crack. Mireille felt herself freeze again as the floor erupted violently towards them, smashing forwards like some strange steam train as the entire road erupted forwards.
"Mireille!" Kirika cried, somehow grabbing her arm and dragging her into the alley. Not a moment too soon as the strange phenomenon passed them by, like a tornado on it's side, still spitting broken bits of road everywhere.
"I like her advice!" Mireille shouted to her partner needlessly as she shot to her feet and ran into the alleyway, not daring to look back as they took turn after turn through the alleys of Paris.
They had dodged his blast. The street was in ruin, buildings had toppled and the road did not even resemble it's old self. It looked more like a crippled animal, with a huge furrow straight down the centre of it, and the edges had risen up like a valley. Not waiting for the police to arrive he sprinted quickly towards the alley, determined that they would not escape him. Suddenly he stopped.
"Always so willing to play with them? What about me?" A young male voice mockingly called out to him, making him slowly turn towards the voice. Sitting calmly atop the ruins of a Parisian house was a young man. With a ponytail, the colour of light caramel. His eyes were closed as his face was twisted in a cheeky and mocking grin. Really, did these humans have no will to live?
"Run along mortal. I have not the time for you." He grated, wishing that he could kill this arrogant youth, but knowing that each moment wasted gave them time to escape. He turned around but froze at the boy's next comment.
"Oh, but Semyaza... you're no fun!" The voice was again mocking, and he turned back to face the youth.
"What did you call me?" He managed to choke out.
"Oh, is it not your name?" The youth asked with a face of false innocence. "Or do you prefer Azaziel?" That was enough, no mortal could know his name. Let alone both of them, he was not a simple human. A threat.
"All obstacles are to be removed." Azaziel warned, drawing again his scythe out of the night and holding it before him. The youth's eyes widened before he smirked again.
"Oh! A scythe, how cliché! But somehow it suits you. Quaint." Not waiting Azaziel swirled his scythe and again sent a roaring wind towards where the boy had sat, destroying everything in it's path and creating another long chasm through Paris. When the dust settled he was not at all surprised to see no body there. Just a weak being, he thought to himself as his scythe disappeared.
"Miss me?" A voice laughed in delight as a roaring pain shot through Azaziel's left shoulder, drenching him in blood. Angrily he span and swung with his scythe, narrowly missing the smiling face, which ducked below mockingly. In it's hand was a light silver rapier.
"You know, I came with no weapon. Good job I found this laying around eh?" He taunted whipping it towards the Fallen Angel's face. Azaziel leaned back to avoid the glimmering point, before lashing his scythe across in a horizontal slash. Acrobatically the young man leapt over it and kicked him in the face, making him fall back in shock.
No normal Human, nor a normal Angel could have dodged that. What is he?
"Oh Azzy... no wanna play no more?" The boy taunted with a look of mock sadness on his face. Infuriated at the name he swing forwards with a feint which the boy happily dodged, but was less lucky at dodging the reverse lunge.
His cry was satisfyingly loud as the darkened blade sunk into his chest, smashing through his rib cage but missing any vital organs. Quickly the boy tore himself off the blade, before Azaziel could drag him close and finish him. He staggered back with his sword arm dangling.
"Yep, they always tell me to fight seriously, ah well, they escaped, and you failed Azzy. See you again next time! Toodles!" The youth arrogantly called to him, blowing a kiss towards him before jumping into an alley.
Azaziel was only a second behind to reach it, but apparently that had been all that was necessary for the boy to escape.
"Hmph. The target will still be killed. They are weak, and you cannot protect them."
The white light suddenly pushed Ramiel back, alerting him that something was coming through, just before two white lights flashed on either side of the marble wall. Slowly they coalesced into solid beings. Two Angels, wings hidden, both dressed in ornate golden armour and wearing an emblazoned flame on their breastplates.
Wardens... Angels charged with Guarding the Pearly Gates. But what are they doing here...
"Apprentice Knight of the Order of Michael, Ramiel?" The one on the right spoke, it's booming tone echoing through the abandoned house. Ramiel nodded and bowed to them in reply. Wardens were of high rank, and worthy of all respect.
"By Order of the Divine Council, you are to be executed."
Oooooh cliff hanger, as well as a few characters jumping in to confuse things. And none of them explain what they are, the suspense? Hopefully.
I'll update where I can. Thanks to my BETA reader Lain of Avalon, who made me make this chapter longer and include the fighting. I had planned to have this as a boring filler. So go Lain!
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