ANGEL OF LIGHT

Paul and the False Apostles

"For such boasters are false apostles, deceitful workers, disguising themselves as apostles of Christ. And no wonder! Even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light. So it is not strange if his ministers also disguise themselves as ministers of righteousness. Their end will match their deeds."

—2 Corinthians 11:13-15

—

DECEMBER 8TH 2039
4:53PM MST
WYOCOLO, WYOMING

Esteban sang as he walked the freshly worn path linking his base to their meeting point. The place where he was supposed to report with Alice Cullen in tow. The hymns came out of him, loud and excited, buoyant with all the praise he could muster to the Heavenly Father above.

Behind him, in the distance, the sound of crackling fires began to grow louder as the inferno burned stronger. The wind blew hard then, a gust forcing his vestments to billow around him, as if the earth itself were a traitor and attempting to conspire with the evil forces of this land and push him back from where he came.

But step by step, Father Esteban moved with a purpose. The sun ahead was fading fast. Within minutes dusk would be upon them, his saints would lead the congregation in their final prayer, and they would depart for their last mission.

With forty-four individuals absolved of sins and ready for communion, Esteban knew that come morning, all of their souls would be traveling from this world to the next. His followers, to the gates of Heaven.

The Volturi guard and Jasper Whitlock's coven, to the pits of Hell.

He finished a hymn, inhaled deeply, and held the breath. He was heading away from the mouth of the perdition he had created. A fire was now lit and burning, encircling seventeen square miles around the not-so-distant Whitlock residence in a long arc. A circle that did not quite close. There was a spot left unburnt; several hundred meters of land was spared from the gasoline that served as fuel to his plans. That was where the Volturi would enter to receive their justice. That was the edge of the cliff that he dared them to hang from in order to reach their prize. A prize that would never come.

He would not be handing Alice Whitlock over to the Volturi. God would cup Esteban's soul in his hands and bless him with eternal life beyond what he knew before he allowed the object of his vengeance to slip through his fingers and into the greedy palms of these evil men. It did not matter whether Jasper Whitlock died before his mate. It did not matter if he did not see, first-hand, the true horrors that could befall the one he owned. What mattered now was that the demon witch be punished two-fold. Both because of who she was to the Major, and because she'd sinned against Esteban directly.

No fallen women would be granted confession on this night.

Esteban thought to those he had lost to Maria of Monterrey and her vile bunch. To Silas. To Hannah. To Ezra. Ones precious to not only him, but the Lord Almighty. He closed his eyes as he walked and pictured their deaths: Hannah, gone to a flurry of movement and then the hands of Major Jasper Whitlock. Silas, trying and failing to escape, the sound of death the only thing that silenced his screams. Sweet Ezra, and the hands of the whore of Monterrey and Major Whitlock that ripped him to pieces in front of Esteban's eyes.

And himself. A younger version of the man who he'd eventually become, turning and running until his guilt forced him to dispose of that very version of himself. Esteban had hardened himself. He had given himself fully and wholly to the Lord for a third time. He had prayed and cried and screamed and then prayed some more. Then, when he realized his vows were unfulfilled, he knew that it was his duty to continue what he'd started as a human.

If anyone could rid the world of sin, it would be God's most loyal follower. Father Esteban would consider his job done once he was returned to the Heavenly Father, and not a moment sooner.

Esteban noticed the three individuals that had been thieved from him before he recognized anyone else. The girl, the gift, and the boy. Esteban had no one by his side. No saints, no acolytes, and none of the newest members of his congregation, those recently converted and baptized.

Father Esteban Palóu approached the band of sinners unflinchingly.

"Why are you here?" The messenger sounded amused as Esteban approached. The sight of the guards of Volterra in position—dogs belonging to heretical Kings aware of the evil they perpetuated—their numbers now even higher, only made Esteban's choice easier. They would never get what they sought. The girl would never see past these parts and would die alongside the wicked ones that occupied this land.

Jasper Whitlock would die first, and his coven with him, and when the Volturi demons were out of his way Esteban would depart for Monterrey.

"This is the way of things." Esteban was equally amused. Surely, they would have taken note of the way he operated, and if not, that meant they had not watched him closely enough. It meant they had not done their research accurately before approaching and making him an offer.

It meant the Volturi did not know that Esteban hated Jasper Whitlock more than he feared their retaliation. That Esteban was only loyal to one.

"Is it now?"

"My congregation is in motion, within the hour they will have cornered and killed Jasper Whitlock and his sympathizers."

"With the exceptions we agreed upon," the messenger spoke, irritably. His red gaze was like ice and Esteban relished in it. With the destruction of Whitlock's whore, they would be punished for their own sins. Pride, greed, gluttony. These men gorged themselves on evil, and the retribution they would receive in their next life would be deserved.

Esteban nodded. "But of course. I will receive my justice, and you will receive yours."

The messenger stared off into the distance. Ah, yes, the sounds of the fire could finally be heard faintly behind the sounds of the buzzing bugs and the chirping birds that now fled for their lives en masse. Esteban did not take his eyes off of the messenger. He wanted to watch the moment of realization. He wanted to see the desperation take hold.

He wanted to watch the Volturi suffer the same way he had.

Esteban was not left disappointed.

"What have you done?"

"You are going to witness the holiest of nights," Esteban informed them and felt the Holy Spirit fill him. "Tonight will be a night of divine intervention, the likes of which we have yet to see in any form!" He laughed, and stepped closer. "My congregation is ready and willing to meet the Lord. They have trapped the Whitlock coven where they remain so that there is nowhere for them to flee. The fires ensure our boundary. The fires ensure our victory! Each of the men and women under my command have their orders. All will fight and many will die. No body will be wasted on a chance."

The messenger was suddenly still, and with that stillness came a calmness in his expression that Esteban had yet to see.

"You have violated the terms of our agreement."

Esteban grinned his sideways smile, amused at the assumption, and started to pray.

"Our Lady of Victory, we have unshaken confidence in your influence with your Son, our Lord, Jesus Christ." He closed his eyes and raised his hands and his head, sick with hope and numb with the promise of salvation one way or another. "Humbly we ask your intercession for all of us associated under your title, Our Lady of Victory. We beg your powerful assistance also for our own personal needs." At the end of his recitation he inhaled deeply. Soon, so very, very soon, he would be able to smell the smoke, and it would make him feel at home, as if he were down in Torreón still working to rid his lands of sin. "We pray that you lift the hearts of those in doubt, that you see to the justice that has been sought on this night, and that the souls sent to you are judged with all that they deserve! In your name we pray."

Esteban bowed his head, and ignored the movement in front of him.

He continued to pray.

"In your maternal kindness please ask Jesus to forgive us our sins and failings, and to secure His blessings for us and for all the works of charity dedicated to your name. We implore you to obtain for us the grace of sharing Christ's victory and yours, forever in the life that knows no ending."

Esteban inhaled, and he exhaled. The scent of smoke was faint in the air, and he felt at peace.

"May we join you there to praise forever the Father, His Son, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit, one God, for all the ages to come. Amen."

God was good. Esteban was his wrath. Ready to do by His will.

—

By the time the head rolled to the side and fell to a dull stop in the dead leaves and dirt, Demetri had decided his next course of action. When Felix spoke up, asking, "What do we do now?" he knew exactly what to say.

But before he could speak, a noise—so faint it was barely distinguishable amongst the fleeing wildlife and chirping insects—shattered the tension. They all paused, and Demetri lifted a hand, signaling for everyone to wait. There were thirteen miles between them and Father Esteban's base. No noise should have carried that far, that quickly.

He waited, and after eleven seconds, they heard it again.

Again, the same noise. This time, it was unmistakable. A scream decorated the air as the sun fell behind the mountain tops.

Despite his frustration, Demetri was entertained with this turn of events. Esteban's people surely were not wasting any time. He stared down at the body of Father Esteban and his amusement was quick to abandon him.

This idiotic man had surely known that death was an option for him tonight.

But if he had thought it was a guarantee…

Demetri looked off into the distance. His hand was still raised, keeping everyone at bay both physically and verbally. He had been placed in charge of this mission. He had been entrusted with the retrieval of Alice Cullen. Finally he was the hand directed to dole out punishment at the behest of his Master.

This trust would not be taken lightly and he would prove himself, yet again, as a highly valuable member of the guard. Demetri had been promised a reward unlike any he could fathom. His mind went to different places and his mission fell back into the forefront of his awareness.

They had to retrieve Alice Cullen.

"We finish the job," he spoke firmly. He stepped over the mangled priest and lowered his hand, signaling for everyone to follow. As he moved toward the fires that this lunatic had lit, he took stock of what he knew; of what he could sense.

Each Cullen was accounted for, minus the abomination and the shield, Isabella. They would have to destroy her quickly in order to weaken their defenses. As he walked, he told this to the rest of his company. They had known, before coming tonight, that Eleazar's coven had been attacked, and Eleazar and one of the blonde women, Tanya, had paid the price of this foolish experiment.

The priest's refusal to believe that the hybrid girl and Rohit provided protection was the cause of that event. It should have been Demetri's first sign that Esteban would be more difficult to manage than he'd anticipated. But they were not the only dead allies of the Cullens.

Two of Jasper Whitlock's allies who had stood as witnesses to their crime had been targeted. It was only unfortunate that it was the woman that had been eliminated, and not the more proficient fighter. It was no matter. Demetri could sense the not-too-far-off approach of the group that was fast approaching. It included the three Brazilian women he'd met in addition to both the woman and the hybrid that had also borne witness and forced Aro's hand. The two sides of Alice Cullen's trump card that had been played at the eleventh hour, ultimately postponing her coven's death.

Until tonight.

The five that were trying so desperately to make their way to this location would not arrive in time. Demetri knew this and entertained himself with the knowledge that the guard would eliminate the additional criminals upon their arrival. Only after most of the Cullens and the coven from Denali were exterminated.

Demetri could not discern the numbers of the newborns unleashed upon the Cullens—he had only met a handful but could sense them, not far off—but he knew that it would be enough.

They just had to make sure that Alice goddamn Cullen did not get caught in the cross-fire.

He paused and turned toward the rest of his company. Felix was unperturbed by the events, as unflappable as ever. Renata stood behind him and Rohit beside her. The girl, Jennifer, cowered under his gaze, and Demetri sighed.

He locked eyes with Felix again, and nodded toward her. This was the final fight; they no longer needed psychic cover.

It only took a few seconds. The girl was fast enough to let out a scream and lift her hands to cover her head in fear, but not fast or strong enough to fight against Felix or flee from him. The sound of her neck snapping was much louder than a human's but she did not die from the injury. Demetri watched in disgust as Felix made a face, put his boot at her neck, and pressed until her head came away from her body. The sound it made was unlike anything he'd ever heard before.

He thought toward the hybrid approaching their location and wondered if he wouldn't be able to recreate that noise himself.

"We finish whatever they don't," Demetri resumed speaking as he turned his attention back toward the rest of the guard. He arrested his gaze on Alec, who nodded. "We ensure that Alice Cullen returns to Volterra with us to stand trial, and Edward Cullen, too, if possible. We eliminate the leftovers, we exterminate anyone who shows us violence, and beyond that…" He dropped his hand and despite his growing anger—frustration that they even had to involve themselves to this degree—he smiled at his comrades. "We do what we always do."

It was time to clean up another mess and take home the prize.

To the victor belong the spoils.