Improper Guardian

Chapter Thirty Two

By: Brenli

Raphael bounced Abel in his strong arms, listening to his son's strong, loud laugh. "… I have to go."

Barbiel still lay in Doll's bed, a small frown curving her mouth. "Will you go to him, or her?" The option was open, now. Raphael now had reason to believe that Michael would not betray them.

"I'm going to try going to him. Nema won't believe she's in trouble if I can't tell her just what trap she's walking into, but Michael knows this information…" The Wind Angel reluctantly handed the boy back to Barbiel, kissing her cheek and Abel's forehead. "But I will be back soon, I promise."

"Be safe." Barbiel pleaded with him.

"I will." Raphael was quick to reply. "It'll be like… just a trip to see an old friend. I'll be back before you know it."

So he had promised the mother of his beautiful son. And as he had snuck past the Rabbit Fields, he had been dismayed to see there would be less time than he thought. Cheriour and his Rabbit Hunters were all lined up, out in the open, black cloaks proudly flowing around them. It must he truly been a great trap if they felt no need to even hide… But he could find nothing different about the surroundings.

So they were already set up, then… He'd have to make this quick.

Raphael was relieved to notice that there wasn't so much as one Rabbit Hunter in Michael's base… at least, he hadn't had the trouble of running into one. It didn't take much effort to find Michael's room, for it was safe to say it was probably the one locked with a code to break.

It was obvious that Cheriour had gotten too confident in himself. The code was 777, the first number that popped into Raphael's head. And the Wind Angel listened to the strange shifting sounds inside, as though Michael must have been stuck behind multiple walls.

The sounds stopped. Raphael opened the door. "STOP! IT'S ME!"

The large blade of Michael's fire sword stopped an inch away from Raphael's head.

"… What happened to you…?" He couldn't help but ask the War Angel before him. Was Michael aware that he looked different? He was a lot paler, now. His eyes were tired and rimmed in tender red lids. Raphael was able to catch the barely-there scars on Michael's arm, so perfectly mirroring Nema's.

Michael quickly strapped the sword to his back and rushed out of the room. "No time for that, now!" He said hurriedly. "Are they already there?"

Raphael had no choice but to run after his friend. "Who?"

"Nema?" Michael breathed. The name itself seemed painful as it flowed from his frowning lips.

"Nema and her warriors have yet to be there. Cheriour and his men are already there."

"Good, we can still warn them."

"Michael… What is this trap you were talking about?"

"Cheriour had fun with my blood. He made bombs out of it. He's going to kill them all…! There, is that enough information for you?" Michael rushed on.

"… Bombs?"

"Look, it's too many questions, okay?"

"But bombs made out of blood?" Raphael arched a golden brow.

"DO YOU FUCKING TRUST ME OR NOT?" Michael turned and hissed at the Wind Angel. "… Or is that a stupid question?" He finished angrily.

"I trust you, Michael!" Raphael held up his hands in a helpless gesture. "… I've missed you, you know. So has she."

That made Michael falter. "… We have to save them all. Each and every one. She won't miss me anymore, if so much as one is lost to my blood. I know that. She'll never love me again, if I can't fix this." And with that, the War Angel spread his broad, white wings and soared off into the sky, Raphael right beside him.

"Where are we off to?"

"Nema first!" Michael said firmly. "Fuck Cheriour and his men. My troops pulled out a while ago. So they can all go die."

Raphael began flapping his strong wings more swiftly. Michael was speeding away from him with an urgency Raphael hadn't seen on him, before. "It's early. They might still be asleep, Michael."

"Don't care!" Michael's voice slurred with the stress of this speedy flying and general worry.

"… Michael…"

"What?" He snapped.

Raphael ignored the nervousness that radiated from Michael. "Last night… my son was born."

"… A son, eh?"

Raphael found it in himself to smile. "His name is Abel. When this is over, I want you to see him. You and Nema."

There was a long pause. "… Me and Nema." He seemed to be lingering on the idea of mentioning them both as a duo. It made sense, to Raphael. After spending so much time regarding her as the enemy… this new idea must have been almost too refreshing. It seemed to soften Michael's voice enough, anyway.

They both touched the ground and proceeded to march up to the large building that served as Nema's above-ground fortress. "I believe that she still loves you, Michael."

He didn't outright deny it, which told Raphael that somehow, Michael had already known that. Instead he said this, "… I'll never figure out how or why. She hates me enough, just so you know. It's not… ALL fucking roses." With that he held his hands up before the guard. "Let me talk to your Queen."

"That I can't do." The male I-Child stammered before the angry White Wing before him.

And suddenly Michael exploded. "AND WHY THE FUCK NOT?"

"She's already gone…!"

"BULLSHIT! WE NEVER SAW HER!"

Raphael's icy blue eyes widened with understanding. "Underground."

Michael spun and arched a red brow at the Wind Angel. "They still go underground?"

"They weren't sure if they would be ambushed. Somehow, your type never liked going underground. So they took advantage of their tunnels." A small voice said below the raging War Angel. He looked down to see a young girl, an I-Child with a pink and red lolita dress and white ringlets pulled up into pigtails. Lo and behold, she wore a red mini-crown on her little head.

Michael's blue-green eyes narrowed. "Have someone take us to her."

"Can we trust you, Rabbit Hunter?" Lilliel's pink eyes squinted up at him.

And Raphael knelt before the little girl. "You can trust him. I do."

Lilliel's eyes widened and took another look up at Michael, who was trying desperately to bite back angry curses at the lack of faith she held in him. "… Fine, this way."

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"Why do you keep looking backwards, Nema?" Nyssa arched a brow down at the short Queen.

"You know Lilliel was begging like mad to come with us. I keep getting the feeling that she's just behind me." Nema mumbled under her breath, her hand resting on the empty sheath attatched to her hip. She admired the Qarnier for the second time and looked forward, down in the hills and valleys of the Rabbit Fields, and the long, thick, dark line of Rabbit Hunters on the other side. "… Look at that, Nyssa. They were expecting us."

Nyssa swore silently. "Somehow they must've caught wind of our plans."

"Too late now." Nema handed the Qarnier back to Nyssa, took off her earring and let it transform into her Angel Crystal sword, finally slipping it into her sheath as she and Nyssa stood at the head of her most favored fighters. Simply because they were her favored fighters did not mean that the others lacked skill, but she had made sure that for their first truly offensive move, she chose the most agile and quick-thinking I-Children. There were 500 or so with her, each standing firm and ready at her command. "We'll press on. If we don't, they will hunt us down."

"Again."

"I'm getting tired of being hunted, aren't you?"

"Hell yeah." Nyssa said smugly.

A corner of Nema's mouth lifted in a smirk. "… I believe this is the first battle not involving guerilla war tactics, isn't it?"

"It is… This is gonna be… different."

Nema nodded and unsheathed her sword, holding it up in the air, then bringing her pale arm across her equally pale chest, as though preparing for a long slice through her imaginary opponent. "… I like different." With that, she swept her Angel Crystal blade toward the vast enemy and let out a loud war cry, soon echoed by her many warriors. And they each charged forth…

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"God dammit, God fucking dammit…!" Michael swore, scooping up Lilliel and flying onward with increasing desperation. "How long have we been in the dark and STILL no sign of them!"

"Hey, they travel fast! I don't know what else to tell ya! Just keep going ahead!" Lilliel whined and cling to Michael's neck.

Raphael beat his wings to keep up with Michael and watched his friend's heavy breathing and distraught face. He thought of telling Michael to calm down, but knew that this would do nothing for the fiery man.

"… Hey, why are you crying?" Lilliel's pale brows arched together as she looked up at the stressed War Angel.

Michael was going through so much Hell right now. Why hadn't they run into Nema by now? Where was she? Was she already there? Already fighting? Had the bombs gone off? WAS SHE DEAD? Michael's wings felt like they were ready to just fall off of their own accord, but he continued flapping them, each mighty sweep of his snowy feathers pushing him just that much closer to what he hoped would be Nema alive and well… and not Nema, dead in his own blood…

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"… That's interesting… This is all very interesting…" Cheriour said calmly, watching the bloodbath in the Rabbit Fields. "Look at all these deaths in a land full of dead people… somehow, that's funny to me."

"Cheriour-sama!" A blood-soaked Hunter ran up to him.

"Yes?"

"… It is… a slaughter!"

"Yes, yes, I see that clearly."

"WE ARE LOSING!"

That made Cheriour lose his icy smile. "… Is that so?"

"PLEASE JUST SET OFF THE BOMBS!" The Hunter begged. "It will be a mercy to us all!"

"I will decide when to push the little white button, thank you. Return to battle."

"Wh… but… Cheriour-sama! If you don't just end it now MANY of us will feel inclined to flee! They'll follow, and then what use will the Holy Blood b-?" The Hunter's plea stopped in his throat.

Cheriour watched boredly as the sword blade twisted in the Hunter's heart and moved up to escape through his shoulder. "It seems I am not the only one who believed you talked too much."

The corpse fell, and Nyssa appeared, her sword poised and ready.

Cheriour felt a strange sort of smile flood his face. "Why, hello…"

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"They haven't gone off…!" Michael breathed happily, setting Lilliel on the ground. "Okay, run on home, kid!"

"Michael, wait…!" Raphael felt a sweatdrop run down his brow. Well, one thing definitely hadn't changed about Michael. The man was still all for rushing into battle and bloodshed. After sighing he told Lilliel. "He's right. Go right back home, Lilliel. This isn't the place for you." And with that, he brandished the sword he had taken from Michael's base and entered the bloody fields.

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Nema found herself slicing her sword through as many as three Hunters in one swing. She used her powers for emergencies only, and had found she didn't need to use it often at all. Though the battle was intense and heated, with black cloaks and shining swords and black wings and white wings all mashed together in these hills and valleys, Nema could not help but notice that this battle was tilting in her favor. She was happy for this, but knew that the recognition of success did not mean she should go easy. She decided to blind herself to the fact that more blood poured out of Hunters than Hunted. She believed that SHE was the losing one, that she must keep pressing on, stabbing, swinging her Angel Crystal sword that almost appeared to be made of rubies instead as the blood of so many White Wings dripped from the indestructible blade. Yes, she fought like she would have if she were cornered: desperately and wildly. She was proud to say that each of her fighters fought in the same manner. It was, perhaps, this mentality that allowed them to win. They refused to acknowledge their success until their opponents were completely dead. Some didn't even laugh in celebration until long after they had cleaned off the blood and dressed any wounds. Yes, for now, they all viewed themselves as nothing more than victims… it was truly this belief that made them desperate enough to push on.

"NEMA!" A familiar voice cried.

She ducked into a crevice cut into a shallow hill and was surprised to see who followed her in. "Raphael!" Her ruby eyes widened.

"You need to get out of here, Nema!" Raphael's voice dripped with fear.

"YOU need to get out of here! Your wings are white! One of my warriors might kill you!" Nema snapped. Just as quickly, her eyes widened again and her sword almost slipped out of her hands. "… LILLIEL!"

"Ne-" Lilliel began. "… HEY! LET ME GO!"

"HOW DARE YOU COME HERE, LILLIEL! YOU COULD BE KILLED!" Nema scolded her. "I'M TAKING YOU HOME!" She ignored Lilliel's whine.

"Nema, wait! You need to pull out! This is a tr-" She was gone. "NEMA!" Raphael called. He looked out into the sea of wings white and black, mingling in blood. There was no way for finding her in this gorey mess… Well then, he hoped Michael would find her and persuade her in time.

Raphael sighed in frustration and rested his hand against the earthen wall, when he felt something much harder. He looked and found a little, dark box covered in wires leading in all sorts of directions.

He realized he was staring at one of the bombs Michael had been talking about.

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"… LILLIEL!" Nema called out and flew in panic. Lilliel had managed to squirm from her grasp and now, she couldn't find her…!

A thousand times Nema cursed that little girl. She loved her to death, but she was much too stubborn for her own good! Nema wondered if she had ever been that foolhardy…?

It was then that she caught the flash of something small flying toward a mass of Hunters. Lilliel! Did she WANT to hurt herself? Nema soared down to the group, her sword ready to cut each White Wing down, when she saw that one of the Hunters was Cheriour, and lost within the group of black cloaks was Nyssa!

Nema dived in, taking out one of the Hunters as he nearly took off Nyssa's head. In rage, Nema screamed and each torso of each Hunter ripped apart, falling about the two I-Children in bloody slabs of flesh and bone.

"… Why, Nemaelle. I see you've spared me." Cheriour smiled, his sword still shining and clean.

"You are Nyssa's kill, not mine." Nema snarled. But no other words were allowed as another wave of Rabbit Hunters descended upon the trio. Swords brandished against the two albino women. Immediately the two Rabbits fell into an understanding, and Nyssa clashed swords with Cheriour, while Nema both fought off the excess Rabbit Hunters and kept a keen eye open for Lilliel, who was now nowhere to be seen.

"It is pathetic that you don't just call off all your little White Wings fighters and have an HONORABLE fight with me, ASHRIEL!"

Cheriour said nothing, his blonde strands swinging before his eyes as he parried a blow to the head.

Nyssa's eyes flashed in anger, green lightning crackling around her sword. "… WHY WON'T YOU TALK, COWARD? DO YOU WANT A SILENT DEATH?"

This time, Cheriour awarded her with a quiet laugh. "… So, I am to die, today?"

Nyssa wound up getting tired of locking swords with his, so she tripped him, watching him fall to his side, the blonde bangs of his still covering his eyes. "By my hand… by the hand of your former love!"

"Oh? … Is that who you are…?" Cheriour laughed again, the same breathy, quiet laugh.

Nyssa's green eyes narrowed. "Don't play stupid…! You remember me just as well as I remember y-"

"LILLIEL!" Nema suddenly cried.

Nyssa's eyes quickly shifted to where Nema was looking. As many as ten Rabbit Hunters ran by, bayonets held high. Somehow, Lilliel managed to get her mini-crown caught on one of them, but the rest of her body remained untouched! And now… she had the incredible foolishness to chase after it! "… GO, NEMA!"

Nema quickly cut down another Hunter and sent Nyssa a quick glance.

"I'VE GOT THIS COVERED! GO!" Nyssa waved a quick hand, and Nema quickly nodded and left the mini-battle.

Nyssa felt a part of her heart drop, now that Nema was gone. Fighting alone with a big mass of Rabbit Hunters to make her mission difficult wasn't how she had envisioned this, but she'd keep going, keep fighting with every ounce of spirit inside her! Cheriour was back on his feet, but he wasn't going to take her down…! In fact, it seemed that Cheriour was hardly what one would call a good fighter! He was already breathing like he'd been fighting for hours!

At last! She had disarmed him! It had been fucking HARD with three Hunters swinging down on her at once, but she had dismembered them for it and now, here was her chance! She held the Qarnier up high, ready to deal him a deadly blow. "This is for –"

She paused.

… She fell. Her pale body suddenly collapsed against Cheriour. It disgusted her, the way Cheriour allowed her to remain against his chest, holding her there, his mouth locked in a thoughtful line. "My…"

"Oh dear. It looks like you've lost those wings of yours." Cheriour said coldly.

Nyssa sneered up at him. "… You have NO HEART…! I loved you once!"

"Oh? Did you?" That was all he said in his ever-icy tone.

Nyssa spat at Cheriour, fighting down the growling inside her with every ounce of being. "I swear… on Rujiel's death… You will die a PAINFUL death…!"

And then she could fight no more. In disgust at herself and at him, she fell and allowed the animalistic scream to take over and change her, and then she was no more.

"What are you doing, CHERIOUR-SAMAAAA!" A Hunter flailed as Cheriour pulled him in front, using him for a shield. And without another word, Cheriour fled, while the ghoul formally known as Nyssa descended upon warm and tender flesh.

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Nema froze. She had only looked over her shoulder once… Just like that… Nyssa was… "GHOUL!" Nema cried sharply. She rushed to the edge of battle and began yelling to the ears of her many warriors. "SEND NYSSA OFF TO HADES QUICKLY! LILLIEL IS MISSING! IF YOU FIND HER BRING HER HOME IMMEDIATELY! THAT'S AN ORDER! MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!"

There was no time for tears, though Nema did want to cry for Nyssa, whose mission had not been carried out. The circumstances were unfair. She was unable to strike enough when there were so many others to defend herself against… But Nema pressed on. Somehow, she knew Nyssa would have done the same if Nema had lost her wings…

"LILLIELLLL!" Nema screamed and sliced through a Rabbit Hunter blocking her path. "WHERE ARE YOU?"

And then Nema's eyes widened as she watched Cheriour fleeing from far off, pushing a little white button.

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Michael pushed another dead man off his bloodstained blade, looking over his shoulder with wide blue-green eyes, the pupils shrinking in fear.

The first set of bombs had gone off. He still hadn't found…

THERE SHE WAS!

Flying up with urgency and fear, there she was! He'd found her!

… What was she DOING?

The explosions continued in sets of two, then three. Sections of earth flew up, along with bodies both White Wing and Rabbit. Some alive, some dead. Some in the process of dying, the blood sticking to flesh in the form of half-frozen, red slop, burning into the tissue and muscle, turning things black and stiff as the debris that was flung into the sky. The War Angel made out the form of a girl…That little girl! And Nema was going after her!

Michael beat his white wings against the wind and flew after her with a desperation he had never known. He watched as Lilliel's little hand, coated in the Holy Blood, reached for Nema's own outstretched fingers. No good. Lilliel was nearly COATED in Holy Blood. She wouldn't last. But Nema pressed on… her fingers just barely reaching her…

And then the distance between them grew wider and wider. She was being pulled back. "LILLIEL!" Nema cried in despair.

The little girl screamed for her in pain and sadness. And then Michael heard the last set of bombs go off, the edges looking down on the Rabbit Fields beginning to crumble down on the fiery, bloody mess. Nema struggled and cried. "LET ME GO!"

"Nema, no!" The Fire Angel hissed, stunned when she managed to turn around and slap his dragon-covered cheek.

"OH GOD, LET ME GO! TRAITOR!" Nema screamed angrily. "FUCKING TRAITOR!"

Michael allowed the insults to tear holes inside him, watching the waves of dark earth swallow up the Hell below them, cries and screams lost in blood and fire, coated over with dirt. Raphael was flying up to the sorry pair in the sky, listening to Nema's loud and pained screams as she turned and continued fighting from Michael's grasp.

"Michael."

"WHAT?" The Fire Angel cried incredulously.

"Let her go…" Raphael said sadly. "Cheriour is no where to be found… and the remaining Hunters are fleeing."

"My fighters?" Nema asked urgently, tears running down her pale cheeks in defined lines.

"… I have found no one."

At last the Fire Angel felt the violent Queen stop her struggle for a short moment, though this moment meant nothing. She soon threw herself from his grasp with an angry and anguished sort of cry, half flying and half falling to the smooth, even ground that buried her 500 best fighters… and Lilliel.

She mumbled incoherent pleas to herself as she dug. Little ivory fingers, stained in blood, further sullied themselves with dark earth and she dug and dug. Dead. Dead! All of them dead! Nyssa, dead! Or at least, as good as dead! … Lilliel.

Lilliel… dead! Dead!

Nema let out a heartbreaking sob as her desperate hands slapped against the ground. No use… if she dug long enough… she would find only death.

Michael watched from several paces behind. This terrible picture unfolding before him. Not one he had thought of at all. Nema was neither alive and happy or dead. She was alive… and completely, wholly miserable, digging in the vain hope of undoing this madness, this ugly trap…

This ugly trap created with the use of the blood that came from HIM.

Nema heard the shuffling of feet approaching her, and she looked over her shoulder with a look Michael longed, with every bit of his being, to never see again. Lost in her ruby red eyes were so much anger and sadness, the War Angel wondered how she could hold it all in. She locked her eyes on him. She didn't blink. It was as if she wished every ounce of pain coursing through her unto him, as if she would have killed right then and there if she wasn't so lost in her own tangled mess of betrayal.

Yes, if he had to some up the emotions in her eyes into one single word, it would have been betrayal.

Michael opened his mouth, unable to form any words. He immediately took an uneasy step backwards as Nema turned crawled forth, settling on her knees, her hands placed on her lap, dainty in spite of the dirt, her head hung low.

Michael realized she was bowing to him. What had he done to deserve this incredibly low bow? He deserved her hatred and pain, nothing more! For everything, every last thing he had ever done. Even before he turned Hunter and betrayed her in her War. Even before he had taken her, used her, filled her with the words, "God, I think I've fallen in love with her," only to be taken away. Even before he had failed to acknowledge her rape. No, Michael was sure he deserved her absolute hatred from the moment she was born… for he had turned away… left her on her own… and damned her to her own version of Hell before she had even said her first word.

Then it hit Michael with an alarming sort of sickness… Nema wasn't bowing to him, though she took the form of a bow so low she nearly kissed the ground.

Michael took another uneasy step backwards, the breath caught in his throat.

She was offering him her head.