Predetermined

A soft, morning light drifted in from the window. It was a soft and gentle scene set around two lovers wrapped in each other’s’ arms and draped in a mass of pure white linen. The scene was like a image from a romantic film, devoid of colour somehow, the harsh edges of the bed and the end table softened as if the scene were viewed through a blurring lens. He sighed and stirred as he woke his eyes drifting lazily to the woman nestled on his shoulder and smiled lovingly at her as she slept, taking in her pretty features that were framed by a mass of blonde curls.

She seemed so content and peaceful, it seemed a crime to wake her but he gently brushed a stray curl behind her ear, his fingers tracing over her soft skin. She didn’t stir but too smitten with the beautiful creature in his arms he leaned in closer to place a kiss upon her forehead. He lingered there a while, breathing in her scent. A warm, contented feeling expanded in his chest as his hand settled under her ear, his thumb stroking the silky skin on her cheek.

“Baby…?” she murmured into his neck. The tone of her voice was wrong. It was fearful and pained not sighing and contented as it should have been. He frowned and looked down at her. Her sea blue eyes matched the tone of her voice; they were wide and filled with terror. “St…op…” She choked out. A trickle of blood had appeared at her nose, a bruise forming on her cheek and somehow he found the hand that had so lovingly caressed her cheek was wrapped around her throat. Her fingernails clawed at him, she squirmed and struggled trying to break free as his fingers squeezed the life from her. But all too soon, before he could even loosen his grip the brightness of her eyes slowly faded and her body fell limp in his grip – she was gone.

He yelped and rolled backwards falling with a thump, swallowed in a sea of bed clothes. A bright and hysterical laugh cut through the luxury hotel suite that suddenly seemed dark and dingy. He got to his feet freeing himself from the ben linen his eyes falling back to girl he had left on the bed. It wasn’t the girl he had just watched himself strangle. The pretty girl lay motionless and peaceful but there was no mark on her cheek, no blood marred her face and thick mahogany hair was strewn upon the pillow around her. Anger flooded into him, his eyes darkening, as he sent vicious glares in the direction of the laughter.

Michael was rolling on the floor where he had spent the night surrounded by similarly beautiful and lifeless, young women. Tears streamed from his silvery eyes as he giggled at his friend’s expense. “That worked better than I had imagined! Oh that was priceless. Your face… your face,” the demon gasped through fits of laughter, holding his sides has they ached with every cackle.

“That was a cruel joke Mike,” his friend grumbled darkly throwing the sheets over the young women’s corpse and wandered through to the bathroom leaving his friend alone with his collection of dead dates.

“Oh come on!” Mike moaned after him, “You’ve gotta admit that was funny.” But his only reply was the door of the vast bathroom slamming shut.

As the sound of the door echoed around the bathroom, he leaned heavily on the sink gazing into his reflection. The bathroom was in chaos. Items of clothing, complimentary vanity products, make-up broken glass, empty bottles of champagne, the shower curtain torn from the wall; all were strewn carelessly about the bathroom around him, evidence of last night’s antics. The smell was a sickening cocktail of sweat and spilt alcohol but it all went unnoticed as he stared hatefully into the lipstick smeared bathroom mirror.

“Come on, Luke,” came Mike’s muffled tones through the bathroom door. “It was a joke. I didn’t mean to offend you.” Luke wasn’t his real name just as Michael’s name wasn’t his either. They took your real name when They recruited you and They weren’t without a sense of irony when They chose your new one. Names of saints and disciples were among the favourite names for young demons, it was just another way to mock the angels.

Luke watched as his eyes turned from shadowy and dark back to their customary silver. Their original colour had left them with his morality. They had once been the colour of warm honey, his hair a bright golden brown but now any colour about him had drained away, a picture of black and white. Somehow, the succubi had no problem attracting victims with this veil of pale skin, jet black hair and ghostly silver eyes – Mike certainly didn’t anyway – but Luke always found it inhibiting, but then again his sin was not Lust and he was no succubus. He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair, the golden brown returning to the strands as his hand passed over them. The feeling of warm water trickling over his skin washed over him as and when he looked in the mirror he had returned to his old self, amber eyes looking back at him, colour in his cheeks again.

“Please Luke. Don’t be like this,” Mike begged mournfully. “I didn’t know she meant so much to you.” It was a bitter memory; a burden Luke carried around. The first murder he had ever committed, the only murder of his moral life. “I mean you are a demon,” the succubus continued. “It’s what we do. I thought that … well I don’t know … have gotten used to it by now.” She had been so beautiful. He had loved her so much but he had wanted adventure but he couldn’t have both. He didn’t realise that until it was too late - until he had lost her. “I mean you don’t even remember her name!” Mike continued to moan. She was a memory of his sin! It wasn’t as simple as Mike’s, who had been a party animal and a womaniser in his moral life. No, Luke’s was far darker than that. His sin was Envy and what better job could a being who covets the life of another have than the ability to become someone else entirely? It was his sin that killed her – he had no doubt. That was the moment that sealed his fate – it wasn’t a memory he didn’t enjoy recalling.

Luke whipped open the bathroom door, to see Mike’s miserable face but his sadness did not last long as his eyes swept over him questioningly. “You can be anyone you choose, even make one up if you wanted and the person you choose is yourself!?” Mike probed, a glossy eyebrow raised curiously. He was no fool; he knew what Luke’s sin was.

“Why would I want to be anyone else?” Luke replied simply as he passed him causing his friends eyes to narrow suspiciously.

The suite was as chaotic as the bathroom. It was rank with the stench of alcohol and death. The bedroom was equally trashed by the previous night’s escapades. The flat screen TV was ruined having had a stiletto thrown at it in the heat of the moment; a side lamp lay in pieces next to the bed where he had knocked it off the dresser and there were several items of furniture missing which he vaguely remembered watching Mike throw out of the window. The bodies of the girls were disappearing, disintegrating like smoke and escaping through the open balcony window, carried away on the breeze that caused the curtain to waft lightly in the wind. Soon the only evidence the girls had ever been there would be their discarded belongings that littered the room. Luke was not concerned at the sight; with a friend like Mike he had seen it numerous times. He would see the girls again no doubt, but they would not remember each other. They stole the memory of a demon’s death a long with their name. With an army of such creatures of such passions and high emotions, They needed to keep some things as insurance. As long as They had your name and your death, They owned you.

Mike opened his mouth, to quiz him further but he stopped before any sound left his lips. Luke was hit by a rush of emotion; it was a mixture of pride and self-satisfaction. They had done well tonight; this was Their way of letting them know. The feeling was dizzying, not unlike that very first hit of drugs but of course that was the point. They wanted Their demons to lust after this feeling; it was just another means of control.

Mike was grinning foolishly in the corner, his eyes bright betraying his euphoria. “It’s starting,” he breathed through his high.

Luke nodded. “Attack at dusk,” he agreed, equally buzzing. “What’s your orders?”

Mike glazed over for a second searching for the answer. Demon orders were given instinctually, words were not Their chosen form of communication, emotions were. “Chaos!” Mike breathed finally, the word sounding as if it gave him great pleasure. “You?”

Luke searched for an answer of his own but it was strange. The urges he was feeling weren’t as simple as the urge to deliver souls or the hate for a particular angel that would drive him to murder, in fact, this time They had chosen to speak to him not through Anger or Lust or any of the sins which was so typical of Their methods; this time it was something brighter, something foreign, something he hadn’t felt since he had been moral: Concern. “I need to find someone,” Luke said finally causing Mike to peer at him curiously once again. His words were too strange for an assassination order; there wasn’t enough hate in them. Meanwhile, Luke was making sense of the mass of emotion, and images They had fed him, wading through them like trying to find a door handle in the darkness. Who was he to find? Who was he worried about? Who was he concerned for? And suddenly he found it and his amber eyes snapped open, a strange smile upon his lips. Such an expression on his friend’s face only inspired more questions from Mike but now was not the time to ask them.

“I need to find a girl…” Luke finally revealed. Mike cocked his head, his smile widening at the thought of finding a female. They were his specialty. Perhaps this mission wasn’t as strange has he had first thought. “…Lilia…”

The moment was upon them. He could feel it. The rush that he felt, the excitement, the glee; it was a collective feeling, a feeling he knew was shared by all demons throughout the city as their comrades finally broke through. Vibrations could be felt in the ground beneath his feet as somewhere the sound of an explosion. It was time!

The elation was infectious; you could see it in the eyes of the demons as their eyes darkening like great pool of inky emptiness, baying for blood, the souls behind them gone. Mike’s eyes were like two great holes into some empty abyss, the excitement in the air had made them change. No doubt if he had been in his natural form, Luke’s would have been as dark and empty as his companion’s too.

This was the time when it was joyous to be a demon. When dark-eyed the colours were more vivid, the smells more succulent, the sounds ever sharper. Your body pumped with energy that you would be able to run a thousand miles at a sprint without breaking a sweat if you wanted. Many demons were coiled like springs ready to strike. The shocked calm that had descended over the city was fragile and the demons knew it. They slightest touch would bring waves of panic and chaos washing over the city and that is when the fun would begin. It was like waiting at the start line, the stadium in deathly silence waiting for the starters gun waiting for that race to begin.

It was so small; the trigger that they had all been waiting for: A small child stumbling into the street alone streaming with tears, its mother nowhere to be seen. An angel wandered out of nowhere to comfort it but the pressure was too much, the dam broke and a flood of demons descended upon her. Her death was brutal but sudden, as chaos spread. Windows smashed, fires set, more explosions here and there. Mike had become more animal like, his head hung low as if on a hunt but in the chaos Luke had lost him. He had no desire to find him. With concern driving him he felt that if Mike was ten miles from Lilia he would be too close.

The air was electric. Demons had stolen many angels this night. The floor was littered with feathers that crumbled at the slightest touch. Many humans bolted from building to building like terrified rabbits but Lilia was nowhere to be seen. Something in him told him she would be where the angels were and closely following the mob of demons he saw angel after angel turn to dust. The final angel had taken on a vast Anger demon ferociously attacking him but like all those before him he disappeared within the crowd of demons, cursing them all and crying out for someone. That was nothing new; every angel seemed to be defending someone. He strained to hear the name he screamed but the war cries of demons as they carried him off for judgement. A demon noticed him looking lost and forlorn as he followed the crowd. They eyed him hungrily and launched in his direction, their claws – for the mob were so frenzied they were becoming less and less human in appearance – sliced into his shoulder as they pinned him to the ground. It was the pain more than anything that brought his attention back to the obvious. But his reaction wasn’t fear it was anger, he felt his grip on his façade slip, his eyes changing dark and all the while glaring at the demon who pinned him to the ground. The demon’s claws retracted and disappointedly slinked off back to the crowd.

Luke picked himself off the floor clutching his injured shoulder. It was a wakeup call. Wondering the streets was not the safest idea, yet if he were to stumble upon Lilia in demon form, he would never be able to catch her. He caught her scent on the wind, a faint scent intermingled with the overpowering scent of fear and blood and smoke. He broke into a sprint following it into the small alleys and dark corners of the city. It seemed as though she had been fleeing from the commotion, the sounds of the mob and the chaos bleeding away into the distance. Suddenly he tripped on something soft and went tumbling to the ground. For a moment, the world spun together in a mass of fiery orange and bleak grey.

It had been a body, he was sure of it. He looked down to find blood upon his foot where it had caught the unknown object. His fingers ran through the liquid, it was cold. His eyes tracked to the object and sure enough a lifeless woman stared at him with dead eyes. It was nerving at first, unsure whether she would get up and run away, but her greying skin indicated she was unable to do that long ago. He panicked and moved the hair form her face only to sigh with relief that this was just a poor unfortunate woman caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, one of the first victims of the night no doubt.

Kneeling on the cold ground next to the body, his eyes scanned the scene. It was an empty ally nothing, not even the rats moved in this place. Lilia’s scent was still weak muffled by the smells of the night and more disturbingly the smell of dead demons that hung in the air. He could not track her easily. Had someone taken her already?

Then a flash of hope. A shadowy heap on the other side of the ally, dark clothes hidden in the gloom – another body. Luke scrambled frantically to his feet and dashed to the body. He flipped the motionless body over only to feel his heart jump when the face he had been searching for appeared covered in blood and muck. “Lilia?” he urged in a hushed tone, as his cold hand went to her forehead, but the chill of it did not cause her to stir, to his relief I was warm to the touch. He exhaled as some tension lifted from his shoulders. “Lilia!” he urged again more firmly, shaking her shoulders but still she did not respond. He was conscious someone could be watching but he could not call her any more loudly

“Hey!” a voice whispered.

That sound was what he was trying to avoid and Luke’s body went rigid as his eyes tracked to the source of the sound. “Hey you!” It was the voice of a middle-aged man with blazing red hair, crouched in a dark doorway. He beckoned him over frantically. “Over here,” he said as loudly as he dared. Luke scooped her up immediately and picked his way through the shadows to the doorway where the red-haired man turned and lead him into the gloom.

Deep within, after what felt like an age wandering in the gloom, they emerged into a dimly lit room. There was a huddle of a handful of people caked in soot but in the corner was a man with unnaturally bright blue eyes. Luke jumped at the sight of him as if to flee but the red-haired man caught his shoulder. “It’s alright,” he said in his deep baritone voice. “He’s one of the good guys.” And as if on cue, two white wings unfurled behind him, smiling innocently at him in a friendly welcome.

If he only knew, Luke thought darkly, eying her suspiciously as a women picked her way over.

“Let me see here,” she said, her hands and eyes examining Lilia’s limp body in his arms. She made a series of concerned noises. “She’ll live,” she explained, as she led them into a room down the corridor before gesturing to a bed in the gloomy interior. “But she will need time.” Before he had even finished laying her on the bed, she was ushering him back out the room. She needed quiet to work.

“Sophie’s a nurse,” the red-haired man explained, noticing Luke’s concerned looks as Lilia as he returned to the rest of the group. “She’ll fix her up good as new. You’ll see.” He smiled down at him but it didn’t removed Luke’s concerned expression like he’d hoped. Despite, this he carried on regardless as he wheeled him to a collection of mismatched chairs and seats they had gathered together where the two sat down heavily. “I’m Paul,” he introduced with the same smile. “Sophie’s my wife and this is my son Sam.” He explained gesturing to the teenager in the corner wearing clothes that looked two sizes too big for him. “This is our neighbour Christine and her sister Lisa, and her little one is Emily, Christine’s daughter,” Paul continued pointing to the two blonde haired women opposite and the infant one was clutching defensively and then he turned to the angle in the corner who was watching them intently. “And of course, that is Ariel. Luckily, he found us and got us all to safety.”

“Luckily…” Luke repeated unsure of his situation never taking his eyes off the angel. Ariel however, didn’t seem to mind his suspicious glances and only returned them with a smile.

“And who might you be?” Paul asked, breaking the demon’s trance.

“Luke,” he answered with surprise.

“And the girl? You’re together? You seem pretty concerned for her.”

Luke shook his head. “No. I don’t know her,” Luke answered. “But I couldn’t just leave her in the street.”

His answer seemed to please Paul immensely and his clapped him on the shoulder sending pain jarring through his body. “That’s what I like to here!” he chirped with a smile in his voice. “A good samaritan! Just want we need at a time like this.”

Luke didn’t reply only grimaced but he wasn’t sure whether it was entirely because of the pain. Sophie returned and scowled viciously at Paul before starting to bustle around Luke’s injured shoulder. She tutted and shooed her husband away so she could tend to him with a typical marital exchange that most humans seemed to have. Luke had heard so many the words did not even register it was all words to him. Before he knew it Sophie was yanking of his shirt and pressing a cold cloth soaked in some foul smelling liquid firmly onto his wound. It felt as though she had set it on fire, he yelped and shied away but Sophie’s grip was surprisingly strong. “You’re lucky. It doesn’t seem to be particularly serious,” Sophie mused as she finally took away the cloth and dressed the wound. “How did you get away?”

Luke didn’t have a good enough lie for that, not in the presence of an angel. His answer was only a shrug.

Sophie smiled sympathetically at him. “Not to worry Luke,” she soothed as he put his blood soaked t-shirt back on. “This night has been hard for the lot of us,” she said taking his hand as a gesture of support. “Oh!” she said a had running to his cheek. “You’re cold,” she cried, with such concern in her features. His hands were always cold; demons had colder body temperatures than humans. Heat was not something that was easy to replicate. Paul had passed over a blanket which Sophie handed to him. “Rest a while,” she smiled in a way only a mother could. “We have a big journey ahead of us.”

Luke lifted an eyebrow, his eyes flicking to everyone around him as he pulled the blanket around him to keep up the ruse. “We do?” he queried. His eyes lingered on the angel. Was it really that simple? Was his disguise that good? Were humans so desperate for allies in times of crises that they would just blindly accept anyone? Would the angel?

“Yes, we do,” Ariel confirmed in a strong and confident voice which seemed to calm the frail nerves of the humans huddled in this dark dank room. “We are going somewhere safe. As soon as the girl is well enough we’ll leave.”

‘We’! He said ‘we’, Luke thought happily. Perhaps they were desperate after all. “And where is that?” Luke probed further.

The angel smiled and shifted his weight crouching like a gargoyle on the roof of some vast cathedral. “I can’t tell you that … not yet. You never know who might be listening. The demons are far stronger than we imagined,” the angel dodged. His answer gave Luke some level of satisfaction but he pushed it away. He could not give the impression he was happy demons were ransacking the city. He would be killed in an instant if they knew.

The group settled as the night wore on, drifting off to an uneasy sleep to the symphony of sirens and explosions and the cries of the injured. Luke speculated whether the only reason they were able to sleep at all was the presence of the angel watching over them who began checking the exits every so often for signs of demon activity. For Luke of course sleeping was impossible. If he were to drift off to sleep his façade would fade, his hair would darken and his skin would grow pale. He had visions of being woken by the fingers of the angel wrapping around his throat, the hatred burning in his eyes before expertly snapping his neck. He would blame his insomnia of the pain or fear or worry for Lilia and the group if anyone asked but when the humans stirred and saw him sat in the corner staring mindlessly at the clock that ticked on the far side of the room no one ever asked.

Somewhere around 3am the sisters were woken by the baby. The child’s wails surely woke the group but no one moved, perhaps they were trying to minimise Christine’s embarrassment as she fumbled and panicked around the child. Luke watched intently, peering curiously at her. The mother’s stress was only making it worse as she tried to balance the girl in one arm and searching frantically through a bag with the other. Could she not see that? And something about the scene amused him and he found himself smiling but the true reason why he did escaped him.

Christine spotted him watching and noticing he was clearly not even trying to sleep she whispered, frantically. “Here! Hold her for a minute would you.” Luke panicked and tried to refuse but the infant was shoved into his hands and Christine returned to her searching.

There was a tense moment were the baby and the demon spent working out what had just happened. The two ended up staring at each other, the Emily’s tear stained eyes boring deep into his and then suddenly captivated the baby stopped crying. Perplexed, Luke cocked his head and frowned as the baby continued staring but moments later he saw a familiar shine in those eyes forming. It was the same shine he saw when humans realised what he really was, the same shine that twinkled just seconds before they grew dark forever as they faded into death. And as that shine grew the baby’s wails returned even louder than before.

“Got it!” Christine exclaimed, and to the relief of both Emily and Luke, rescued her daughter from his clutches. “Thank you!” she mouthed before muffling her daughter’s cries with a bottle.

The room soon fell silent again. Ariel had been gone for a long time this time. The only sounds in the room were the sounds of the soft sighs of sleeping humans and the rhythmic tick of the clock on the wall that seemed louder with every minute that passed. Luke was getting tired, his eyeslids heavy, the heavy, warm fog of fatigue descending, lulled by the boredom of the room. Several times his head fell forward and he was jolted awake by the feeling of his head hurtling towards his chest. But he was losing the fight.

“H-hello?”

Luke snapped to attention. He had drifted off to empty, dreamless sleep. A wave of panic washed over him as he checked Ariels perch – he had still not returned. His hands ran through his hair and over his arms, unluckily the façade had not slipped. Then his thoughts flashed to what had woken him: A voice.

“Anyone?” it ventured feebly. “H-help…”

The weakness of the voice was all he needed. Lilia! He jumped to his feet and rushed to her side not caring that the breeze would wake everyone he passed. “Hush!” Luke said soothingly. “You should not be out of bed. You need to rest.” He told her, his arms hovering around her to catch her if she fell. “Besides,” he whispered, “You’ll wake the others.” He smiled down at her. Somehow he was happier now. She was awake and alive but surely They wanted more from him than just to find her. Why was she so special? What did They want from her that was so important that They needed her alive? Alive was not Their normal tactic. Demons were much more easily controlled than humans.

Suddenly, Luke went tense as the silent form of Ariel returned. “It seems we are safe for now,” he began softly. “We seem to be doing a good job of drawing the demons away from the centre of town. They are headed North so we should be out of harm’s way at least for now.” The angel smiled again, apparently unaware of Luke’s discomfort in his presence and turned to Lilia. “Oh!” he said brightly realised who was standing with him. “You’re awake,” he chirped but the smile soon faded when he saw the fragility in her face. “You don’t look well. Come. Let’s get you back to bed.”

For a moment Luke forgot where he was. He was just focused purely on the angel in his presence poised in fight or flight mode. There was an exchange about some other angel he had never heard the same of but he wasn’t listening his focus was on trying to work out whether the Ariel posed a threat and then suddenly the angel turned to him and he froze again. “You boy,” he said. This was it. He had figured it out. This was the moment he had to fight for survival outnumbered by five adult humans fit enough to fight and an angel. “you have saved the most important being of your race!!!!” he continued. He was coming closer. Luke backed away but the angel’s arms were around him soon he would be crushed in the strength of his arms. He could feel his eyes turn, the strength he’d been holding back for the ruse returning ready to struggle free, but he was never crushed, only held for a moment before the angel retreated back to his charge. And suddenly confusion replaced fear as the words fell over him.

Saviour? The word from their previous exchange rattled around his head. It soothed him like the whisper of breath of a lover on his ear. It was like honey, a taste which only made him want more. But this was Their doing, they were interested in what this may mean, twisting him mind to press him into finding out more and how enticing Lilia was to him. Watching the angel tend to her was almost torturous. Ariel was distracting her from him! Without her full attention how could he possibly find out her secrets. But how would a human get an angel to leave? How would he be able to convince an angel that she was better off in his hands? The answer was simple – he wouldn’t. A human would stand back knowing that Lilia was safest in Ariel’s care and his cursed inwardly at it.

“I will keep you safe. I vow my life upon it. I would rather die than see those filthy demons get their grimy claws on you,” he said. Something which relieved some of the sting from otherwise being unable to tend her himself.

Oh if only you knew Angel! he thought with a sly smile breaking him façade.

“It will be the end if they get a hold on you. You know that right, Lilia?” Ariel continued. Luke’s ears pricked his head cocked to one side. What a strange thing to say. Why would it be such a bad thing if she fell into demon hands?

“I know, because Sariel told me so,” Lilia answered. “I do not know what is special about me. I just know that, Sariel saved me…and she somehow sent me here, to this point, to try to stop what happened to me in the future. Because…by the time Julian found me, it was too late for me to become the savior. I fear, it is already too late…now…”

The angel looked concerned. “No…the time is never too late. You are strong enough to do this; you just have to believe in yourself, Lilia…” There was the sound of movement above drawing all their eyes upward. The angel apologised and went to investigate leaving them alone at last. Luke finally drew closer and perched at the edge of Lilia’s bed and watched her carefully. She was fragile – not only physically but mentally. Why was this frail creature so important? She couldn’t possibly lead an army nor fight one off single handed. If he wanted to end her right here and now he could just pry the pistol from her fingers and pull the trigger. She wouldn’t have had the strength to fight him.

“I wish…someone would tell me why…” She said weakly almost in answer to the question he was pondering himself. He had no answer to that one, he could not help her. But suddenly she pushed herself upright her strength left her and she flopped against him. At first he was unsure of it. Perhaps she would notice that his skin was slightly colder than it really should be. Maybe she would suspect him. But why would she? Countless victims before her had never even wondered – not until the last second when they realised the light in his eyes was false and beyond them lay no soul at all. But as he gazed at her, looking so fragile and lost flopped against him, he could not help but feel a pang of emotion, a strange emotion he had not felt in years – pity.

“I don’t feel special…I am no different than you…” She whispered as she looked up to him before she shifted to gaze at the families beyond the door. She muttered as she moved and looked into the other room again, she leaned heavily against the jam of the door. Again he found himself smiling to himself but it was not the sly smile that the angel’s words had conjured, it was softer and brighter than that. If you are the same as me the angels would not be so interested in protecting you, he thought with a sigh as Lilia continued.

“I am no different from that family…there is nothing special about me…” She turned and he was caught by a flash of blue eyes – blue eyes. “Please, excuse me. Thank you for saving me.” She searched his eyes once more, “I am certain that Sariel will take a great liking to you, and protect you, just for that deed. Tell me…” The blue eyes were on him again, searching his amber gaze. They were eerily similar to that of an angels but somehow he did not mind her intense gaze which was a completely insane thing to think for it would just take the slightest slip and amber eyes would flash silver and then game would be up. He would have to take a new face, a new persona, become a new person. But the way the angels guarded her, there was no guarantee that they would even let him pass. “What is your name?” she asked finally. “Where did you find me? Did you see an angel with me? His name is Zaiden…”

Luke was suddenly very aware that he had be incredibly quiet. Surely, his moral self had never been this quiet. Were humans that tended to watch and listen rather than get involved strange? Was that too demonly a trait? Had the angel noticed? “Luke,” he said, his deep voice hanging in the air like harmonised chords of an instrument. He fainted a sad look in his eyes as he retold the story of his discovery of her. “You were just in the street alone. No one was around. Not even your Zaiden friend.” He paused for a moment assessing the impact of his words. “And you are Lilia, our saviour apparently.”

He smiled at her but not before he was interrupted by the strange cry of, “There you are!” It was Ariel, our perhaps something that had taken his face. In fact, Luke was certain of it for the air was thick with the hormones of a demon gripped by the fenzy outside. His eyes like deep pools of ink. He body stiffened, his head lowered ready to fight but he stifled the growl that was growing in his throat. The demon had pinned her against the wall, his whol body screaming at him to move as anger filled him. All he wanted to do was throw him against the opposite wall and shout “Back off. She’s mine!” Despite, the fact the walls were made of block and mortar, he would easily be able to crack it. But he held himself back, his fists curled into balls as the demon had the audacity to lick his lips making clear his intentions. “I’ve been searching for you, Savior.” He hissed at her. He was so close to her just one inch closer and Luke would not hesitate and snapping his neck. But before he got the chance…

BANG BANG BANG!

He watched the demon slump to the floor and stared as a blackish puddle formed around him. That could be me, he thought mournfully as he raised his gaze to Lilia again. Just one wrong move with her and she will not hestitate. He picked his way around the body and looked over her with such vigour any lover might, completely oblivious to her words and the commotion in the next room. She seemed ok for the most part, although his eyes lingered for a long while upon the blood that trickled from her nose. The room was filled with the wretched smell of demon blood and death, the atmosphere charged with despair and fear and yet with two feet of her he could smell her clearly. A sweet intoxicating smell that blocked out all others. They had done this to him; made her so enchanting. Every demon found humans tempting, their smell delicious, their movements hypnotic, but They had made her ten times more tempting than everyone else – just in case he was tempted to stray from his assignment to stay by her side.

It must have only been a moment, but it felt much longer than that as Ariel charged in covered in the blood of his kin. He frowned at it, the sight disturbing. Had he known the poor wretch he had ripped apart? It was time to move and Ariel was barking orders to that effect, while Lilia next to him flagged. The angel scooped her up before placing her in his arms. “Take her.” He said. “Keep her safe. You have already proven you can do that.” And Luke gazed down at her shocked that he had been entrusted with something that was so precious.

They were soon on the move dashing through the streets. Luke gripped his precious bundle tightly as he skipped across the rubble a little too easily for a human but he dared not faking a stumble lest he dropped the girl in his arms. The family wailed terribly. It was the sound that was music to a demon’s ears but Luke was cursing them all. Idiots! he scalded inwardly. Don’t you know they are watching. You are only making it more tempting for them. Eventually he had had enough and he hushed them viciously “Quiet!” he barked. “They’ll hear you!” And the wails became little more than muffled sobs from then on in. Lilia had been murmuring into his chest for most of the journey but even without the family’s sobbing drowning her out, no matter how much he strained he couldn’t make out her words.

They arrived at a large house that didn’t feel quite right to Luke. It was too quiet, too still and there was no smell about it at all. He frowned at it trying to work out why it had such a strange air but suddenly an angel had shouted Lilia’s name and came rushing out of the house to steal her from his arms. This was the reason; it was an angel stronghold. He followed them inside watching the angel very closely before he turned on him with a tone that Luke didn’t like at all asking how he was. Ariel defended him and the strange angel changed his tune. It was revealed that this was Zaiden, Lilia’s guardian and it was his turn to look over the angel judgementally. Some guardian you are, Luke thought the frown on his face showing his disapproval. Leaving her on the street to be picked up by a demon.

Reluctantly he followed the angel but the further they went into this place the more uneasy he felt. Angels were everywhere, and he was conscious that he hadn’t slept all night, his façade felt heavier and every minute was beginning to get that little bit harder to keep in place, like a heavy pack at the end of particularly long hike. By the time he was beside Lilia’s bed it was almost unbearable. The angels had added another pressure he was not prepared for.

“Where did you find, Lilia?” Zaiden asked.

But Luke was flagging. The colour had drained from him clearly not feeling very well. “I’m sorry,” He said weakly. “I need the bathroom.”

He didn’t wait for Zaiden’s response. His opinion of him was lower than most angels and instead he dashed off through the warren of rooms not stopping until he found a bathroom and slammed the door shut, locking it safely behind him.

He let the façade go, and he sighed like some great weight was lifted. This had never happened before. He had been able to keep a façade up for days at a time before without much effort, but here? Here it was like an uphill struggle. His back was against the door his head leaning against the wood as he left the weight leave his limbs blissfully. He wandered to the sink and washed his face free of the grime and the salt one more added comfort he really needed. He was in trouble. Now this task had become infinitely harder. Around angels façades had to be perfect. The slightest flaw would alert them and if that happened here, he was in for a horrible and painful death. He raised his head to gaze at his reflection in the highly decorative mirror. It had a heavy, carved gold frame, bright and elegant but the reflection it held was cold and dark and sobering. His reflection almost seemed to mock him, the silvery eyes staring hatefully back at him as if to say, You fool! They’ll know. SHE’LL know. She’ll work out there is no light behind your eyes soon enough.

In a fit of frustration, the demon angrily knocked the mirror to the ground, sick of his own reflection. It hit the ground where it shattered noisily, scattering shards of glass everywhere. A knock sounded at the door. “Are you ok in there?” A muffled female voice squeaked.

“Yeah!” Luke replied glumly. “I just slipped.”

But suddenly the lock rattled noisily and an angel with fiery red hair burst in. Luke panicked and jumped back but she had him by the throat before he could do anything and had pinned him against the wall. “So good to see you Luke!” she hissed at him as he clawed at her iron grip. “Difficult isn’t it. Keeping cover in a nest of angels.” She was squeaking hard her nails digging into the flesh of his neck. She would rip out his throat soon enough, he just knew it.

A long, sharp fingernail sliced his cheek as quick as a viper, blackened blood forming at the edges of the wound. She tutted mockingly. “Poor naïve Luke. You must do better if you want to survive here,” she smiled at him evilly for a moment, just long enough for him to truly question the motives of what she said. Survive? Surely that option had left the moment an angel had burst in and caught him in his natural form. Then her glittering blue eyes flashed silver and her evil smile widened.

“Miranda?” Luke choked out with a confused expression.

And finally she dropped him and he landed on the glassy for with a thump, clutching his throat and gasping. She crouched down to be in his line of sight again but the red-haired angel had gone replaced by the familiar tiny frame of the demon Miranda, with long glossy hair framing her pale face and judgemental silvery eyes staring at him. “Have you forgotten everything I taught you Luke?” She sniped. “It is all about focus and blacking out the distractions.”

“They have me tailing a human. This mission is all about distraction,” Luke defended wounded. “They have made her so … hypnotic to me…”

Miranda did not seem impressed. “We are not succubuses Luke. Humans are not ‘hypnotic’ to us only toys to torment.”

“You don’t understand,” he huffed. “They don’t want me to harm her. They want me to … to … know her.” The last two words were a surprise to even him.

“Concern. My most hated emotion,” Miranda sneared. “You poor wretch.” She straightened and looked down on him. At her full height she was barely 5”3’ even in the ridiculously high heels she always seemed to wear. “The mission as altered a little,” she announced. “We are to seed doubt in her about angels. Convince her that humans are just mindless sheep. Pawns in their game.”

“And how do we do that?” Luke grumbled from his spot on the floor.

Miranda rolled her eyes and made an exasperated sound. “Well get your face on and you’ll find out,” she moaned pulling him to his feet and shoving him out the door before he even had time to protest. He barely had time to rebuild his façade before he was ousted viciously into the corridor again surrounded by angels who looked at the two suspiciously. “She’s oh so tired,” a sickly sweet voice explained from his elbow. He looked around to see a pint-sized girl with an angelic, round face and deep mahogany curls, so perfect she reminded him of a china doll. “He slipped in there. He needs some sleep. I’ll show him the way.” And with that the doll-like Miranda in human form was shoving him down the corridor.







Sleep, however short had refreshed him but his alertness was probably down to the fact that Miranda – well as the doll-faced human she was called Phoebe – was fussing around the cut on his face she had given him. Red blood mingling with tears were dripping down his chin and onto his shirt. It was taking an awful a lot of control to keep up the façade and in such detail too. Usually he didn’t have to worry about blood or the colour of flesh but now it was vital as the red liquid ran across his skin and soaked into his chest.

He yelped as she twinged something particularly painful. “Hold still!” she scalded viciously as her tiny fingers nimbly worked with the tweezers. “Almost done!”

He was sat outside Lilia’s room on a stool that Phoebe had found and placed right outside the door. The saviour would be awake soon, but that was the point. There was a muffled sound from inside that told them she was awake. Phoebe deliberately jabbed at him, causing him to cry out again and just in case Lilia didn’t get the hint she called in her sweetest voice. “Out here!”

She had deliberately placed the stool on the side that would show Luke’s wound in the best light and so it would be the first thing she would see when Lilia came out of her room. This was her work of art. She had hit him in the face so a nasty bruise was forming nicely around it and she had widened the cut so it wasn’t so clean and more grotesque. The pain was excruciating but Luke had to hold firm. It was the first seed of doubt that was about to be planted. Phoebe didn’t want him crying out over a simple cut but she was deliberately making the experience more painful than it should be been; the more pain he was in the bigger the doubt after all.

The door began to edge open and Phoebe took her chance. “Got it!” she chimed and without warning she yanked a shard of glass the size of a fingernail out of his face and held it up to the light examining it as if it were fascinating while Luke swore loudly on the stool. “Ohhhh! This is a big one Luke. Perhaps, that’s good luck or something,” she chirped brightly. Of course, her examination was an act, she was the one who has put it there after all.

Luke only glared up at her, pressing the heel of his hand against the now three inch long wound. Blood dripping down his wrist, his eyes were filled with such hate for Phoebe that they burned brightly despite the tears of pain that filled them.

“Let that be a lesson,” She advised, cruelly letting him bleed for another few seconds before handing him something to stop the bleeding. “When an angel tells you to do something. Listen! Don’t just do it in a round about way. If you do this happens.”

Luke still didn’t answer. Only deepened his glares at her. I hate you, he thought bitterly through the pain.

Phoebe had her where she wanted her, as Lilia shrieked her protests. Her wicked smile widened, Lilia was like a ripe fruit beautifully ripe and plucked ready for the eating; all see needed to do was take a bite and squeeze her for every drop of sweet juice she had. But it was Sariel that saved her, dragging her prize away before she could make that fatal blow and the demon cursed loudly throwing dressings unceremoniously into Luke’s face.

“We almost had her!” Miranda moaned, her attention firmly focused on where Lilia had disappeared. “Stupid angels. Always in the fucking way!”

Luke was tending to himself for he knew he would get no help from Miranda now her plan had failed. “Perhaps it was not the right time,” Luke mused mopping the blood from his face and neck tenderly dabbing around the raw wound.

Miranda whipped round, her eyes like daggers. “PERHAPS?” she shrieked. “Perhaps this is your fault!” she growled smacking him viciously the cloth he was using to stop the bleeding the mass of red and white wadding flying across the floor. “Maybe you weren’t convincing enough. If she felt enough pity she wouldn’t have gone with Sariel.”

Luke glared back and stood his tall stature easily casting a shadow over her. “What did you expect me to do? Cry out for help? For Mercy?”

“Yes! If that is what it took to keep her here with us. To cast that doubt!” Miranda hissed back the silver of her eyes slipping through as her anger took hold.

Luke snorted at her, and took a step back looking at her with disgust. “Then you’ve been a demon so long you have forgotten how humans work! The doubt has been cast. You could see it in her eyes. Any more and her doubt of angels would have turned into a hate for you.”

A pressure started in the back of Miranda’s head, a wave they washed through her head and ended as a heavy weight in her heart. It was new orders. The weight was a great black ball of longing and hate and lust. A want to be here in this house with a hate for the angels within these walls and suddenly she was very aware of the faint flickers of their kin moving towards her. Miranda’s blue had returned to her eyes suddenly, the anger towards Luke suddenly redirected. Luke looked at her curiously clearly aware she had received a knew directive but for some reason They had not seen it fit to share it with him. She smiled cruelly, enjoying the fact that he had been left out of the loop. “Go clean your face. I will go and sort out the mess you’ve made,” she hissed, but the hate for him had left even her voice.

Luke peered after her. Something serious was going on, she had seen it in her face. The sudden switch of attention and emotion that is so typical of Their touch and yet he had no such feelings. They had chosen to keep him out of this for some reason. Perhaps his mission with Lilia was too important to be mingled with other directives, but as he watched Miranda’s winged form march down the corridor and leave his sight he could not help but feel relief, like the critical gaze of a teacher finally leaving him.



It felt like tracking a mouse in a maze, as Luke followed Lilia’s scent through the warren of corridors and staircases. It had been hard to pick up her scent to begin with. It had taken a while to dress the wound on his face and with the amount of humans and angels milling about the corridors her scent of marred and distorted. He found her alone in a dark room, the sounds of the suffering landscape around them pouring in through the open windows. She was curled into a ball on a chair as if to protect herself from the misery that poured in but against the dark clouds of the oncoming storm the orange glow of the fires seemed even more angry.

His eyes flicked from her to the scene outside and back again assuming that it was effecting her badly. To him such a scene was exciting but at the moment he felt largely indifferent to it. He was a demon that enjoyed chaos on a micro scale, turning a single person’s life upside down; ruining a business with a well-placed word; or even giving someone a punish in the direction of sin. He was no Anger demon that enjoyed smashing and burning things and reducing the world to rubble. But even now around Lilia his mission had corrupted him. He had no desire to ruin Lilia’s life, the concern for her They had filled him with conflicted with such passions. Right now his only desire was to block out the pain of the night that was obviously affecting her so badly.

A thick book had fallen at his feet where Lilia had thrown it and silently he moved to pick it up and immediately he was overcome with a wash of pleasure. This would help Them immensely. He absently flicked through the pages for a moment his curiosity ignited by the reaction They had had when it had passed into his possession, but he was brought back to Earth by a despairing mumbling from the only other being in the room.

Luke sighed mournfully and picked his way towards her and knelt beside her chair. “Who’s Julian?” he asked softly, his voice barely breaking the tranquillity of the room. He found himself brushing her hair from her face and sweetly smiling up at her but suddenly it was wiped away by his own pain as Lilia’s face momentarily merged with hers… the girl he had strangled. The shock of it caused him to freeze, his fingers still entwined with her hair as pain clearly floated in his face. “Was he your partner?” he probed mournfully, his hand slowly sinking away from her hair, the strands almost reaching out after his fingers as it left them. After a pause he continued and although the pain was still clear in his features he seemed to rein it in trying to bury it deep within again. “I had a girl once,” he explained with an uneasy smile, long pauses falling between his words. “You remind me of her,” he continued now no longer able to keep looking at Lilia in the eye. He just kept seeing her looking back at him. “She died a couple of years ago now,” he admitted now staring at the book in his hands his fingers tracing contours of the deep embossed letters. “But life caries on and we can’t stay in the past no matter how much it hurts to leave them behind.”

He found the courage to lift his head again to gauge her reaction and continued. “This book is the angels isn’t it? It’s angelic prophecies. Are you trying to find out what all this ‘saviour’ business is all about,” Luke asked more brightly now. Latin was no trouble for a demon. In fact, any language was locked away somewhere within subconsciously recalled when it was needed. He fondly remembered sitting in a bar when three French girls walked clearly lost and uncertain of where they were. Their eyes had lit up when they stumbled into a seemingly knight in shining armour who asked whether they needed help in perfect French. He smiled at the memory. They were all great additions to the legions.

It was a perfect scene of tranquillity in a sea of pain and anguish, but downstairs Miranda could feel her kind approaching as she slipped out into the night. She found a small group of demons, black-eyed and raring to attack. They were in various stages of beast forms. Some still human, others grotesque creatures that would not be out of place in a nightmare. Every second more appeared but Miranda needed a small army for this mission.

“Where’s the angels hiding, Miranda?” a demon was a gravelly voice grumbled as she slipped back into her natural form. “We are hungry for angel blood.”

“I will show you soon enough,” she answered calmly, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “But if we are to steal their ‘saviour’ we need a great deal of our kind to serve as a distraction. They do not know we know about her. They will just think it is a normal attack while we are really searching to steal their prize under there very noises. If you come across an angel named Zaiden, do not hesitate to kill him. He is the girl’s guardian and could be an annoying obstacle if allowed to.”

The group shifted with delight at her words as the group easily doubled in the time it took to explain the details. “We shall delight in tearing the guardian of the saviour limb from limb,” one of the grotesque demons hissed. Bringing a satisfied smile to Miranda’s features.

Luke had touched a raw nerve. He looked up from the book in his hands and instantly frowned. She was gone, lost in some painful memory no doubt; a memory of this Julian. When she returned his suspicions about him were confirmed. He had been her lover but what shocked him was the fact that he had been an angel. Something in the pit of his stomach twisted. She was likely so coiled around the angels’ fingers she would be had to disentangle. It conflicted with his mission, to get close, to her to know her. Something about her relationship with this Julian didn’t quite sit right with him. But it was her next words that twisted more. “I will never forgive the demons for what they have done...” she said and Luke could no longer look her in the eye, his gaze dropping to the book settled on his lap. Fiddling with the thick leather cover lost for words.

“Lilia … I…” he began. But what could he say? Anything he could say to her now would be hollow and hypocritical. What comfort could a demon bring a human grieving the murder of her loved one at the hands of his kin?

Suddenly, his uneasy silence was broken. “Luke! Watch out!” Lilia cried out and even before he could lift his head she was racing at something behind him. Shocked, he got to his feet just in time to see her take a horrendous blow by a black-eyed demon, who smiled knowingly at him. Luke jumped to his feet, panic and anger flooding through him readying himself to charge and defend her, but before he could even take a step They intervened.

A sharp screeching sound pierced through his ears, shooting straight to his brain like a speeding train. It brought with it such pain that stabbed through his head like a blade. The tone was high and loud yet no one else could hear; this pain was meant only for Luke. He was immediately stopped in his tracks just as They wanted, his hands pressed to his temples his face contorted in agony as it slowly ebbed away. Their message was clear! He was not to intervene.

Luke winced each time the demon brought his knee into Lilia’s body. Each dull thud, hitting him with such solidity and each time, he hit her, Luke made another step, only to be rewarded by another screech that seared through his head. They were watching this intently, he would not be able to do anything without permission. Not move a muscle or make the slightest sound without Their say so. And by the fourth time he was reprimanded for moving to Lilia’s aid, his eyes were wet with tears of pain with his hands pressed firmly to his temples, his teeth grit so hard his jaw ached.

“Get...out...of here....” Lilia ordered in his direction as she was pinned against the wall. But all he could do was look on helpless. Each time they beat her, sent a pain racing through his chest, forbidden to come to her aid. This was wrong, it was too fast, too quick she would not submit to demons, not yet, but what could he do? Clearly, They had ordered it. Who was he to question orders that so obviously brought the whole legion pleasure.

He could feel his kind at last, he was sharing in their delight, their lust, their hate as they tore through the floors below, but it did not wash over him in waves like it should nor did it call him to do the same like it should. He was torn, conflicted, his urges muddled in his head; his primal instincts and his concern for Lilia conflicting, pulling his emotions in opposite directions. The room was swarming with his kind now, rushing around him like water. It was as though he was detached from the room, watching it from a screen and powerless to stop any of it. But he could sense the arrival of the angel. The room seemed to light up with hate like static that tingled in the air. He was here to defend her, the room was clearly nervous of his presence at first. It was a hesitation that surely he would take advantage of and drag her away out of their reach. But Lilia was turning to quickly, she didn’t know who lay behind her, blinded by hate. Luke’s eye widened with disbelief. “Lilia!” he cried, his words mingling with that of the angel’s who shouted just as he had and then suddenly, the sound of metal piercing flesh.

There was a moment of silence as the light from Zaiden’s body faded. Everyone not quite sure of what they had just seen. The only sound that could be heard was that of Luke, stifling his cries of pain as his tore at his hair while he endured his punishment for trying to help an angel. That was how They saw it and the tone lasted three-times as long as unusual and was somehow even more excruciating than usual if that could have even been possible. Luke cursed inwardly through the pain. It wasn’t Zaiden he had been protecting. He could not care less about him. He was protecting Lilia. She had cared about that angel, he knew that. He was trying to save her from the pain of realising she was the cause of his demise.

But as the pain faded, he found himself asking why? Why did he want to protect her from that? It had no benefits to his objectives. What gains could be made by saving her from killing her friend? And as he lifted his head and watched her struggle a final time, all he could feel was a nauseating mixture of confusion, guilt and shame. “Please…” her final cry for mercy was the icing on the cake, the sound grating on him so much he had to turn his back and then she fell limply into a demons arms and the rabble filed out to enjoy what was left of the hunt leaving Luke alone. He wandered over a picked up the book that lay discarded next to Lilia’s chair and with the heavy book in his hands he found himself gazing out at the destruction they had caused in the city.

“You did well. They are pleased.” It was Miranda but Luke continued staring at the burning fires in the distance and as she wandered closer she took the book from his hands a flicked through the pages making various exciting and interested noises. Luke was numb; he didn’t react in the slightest to Miranda relieving him of the prophesies. “This will do very nicely,” she said finally shutting the book and returning her attention to Luke. “They are so pleased with you they are going to make you her ‘guardian’.”

Luke chuckled grimly not bothering to hide his heavy heart. “Her guardian…? Really?”

“Well her ‘guide’ then? Her ‘watcher’ if you like.” Luke’s reply this time was merely an indifferent snort. Miranda responded by hooking a single finger under his chin and forcing him to look at her. “Be careful Luke,” she warned sincerely. “You are treading a dangerous path. Do not confuse you mission with feelings of morality,” she told him, almost spitting the final word out with such disgust.

“If there is any confusion in me Miranda,” Luke explained bitterly as the rain finally pattered at the window pane, “They have caused it.”





Luke watched over Lilia like a guard dog. Everyone who entered the tiny studio flat that served as Lilia’s cell gained the most vicious stares even if they were meant to be in the room. Luke had not moved from his spot perched on the countertop staring at her motionless body draped upon the bed at the opposite side of the room. For a cell it was pretty pleasant, almost untouched by the riots the demons had created the only evidence anything had happened was the torn curtains and a smashed picture frame containing a photo of the couple whole had once lived here. All of their belongings were still here, even their clothes in the dresser. But it was the picture that bothered him the most. Their happy faces as they embraced each other seemed to mock him somehow.

The flat was otherwise pretty homely. There was food in the fridge and fresh fruit lay in the blow on the dining table before him. But this was a cell, there was no doubt. Two guards were posted outside and the two of them were locked in. The door would only open on Luke’s say so and the beefy guards outside were fully prepared to keep Lilia inside by all means necessary.

The thought deepened Luke’s scowl. Hopefully, it would not come to that. He knew that would cause even more damage than had already been done; damage he was expected to fix. How exactly was the problem? Should he keep up this feeble human persona? Soon enough the truth would come out. He could not stay in here forever. There was only one bed and food would run out soon enough – something he would need to ask the guards outside to send for. It was a bad situation any way he sliced it and the more he thought on it, the more his expression soured.

The Librarian was buried deep in the archives. His office was dark and gloomy but through the murk you could just make out the limits of the tiny room. It had a tiny desk piled high with books and the ceiling was so high it disappeared into the shadows. The walls were lined with more books creating the feeling that the room was made of leather and parchment rather than stone and mortar. The Librarian himself was a small, dark creature was beady eyes that seemed to glow in the gloom. Together, the room and the creature who occupied it gave the impression of a small rodent in his nest of books. This nest lay deep within the archives, an eerie place that few demons were allowed to venture, for the archives held the souls of every demon, and the knowledge they were denied. The librarian knew the name and the death of every demon alive apart from one – himself. The truth was he was so old that the parchment it had been written on had long turned to dust and his memory of it had faded away eons ago. The endless halls of shelves lined with neat little black boxes marked only by number, seemed to go on forever. It was a creepy place even for demons to venture. It was not lit and the only sound to be heard within the shelves was you own footsteps. Of course, being a hall of souls, this place loved to play tricks on all those who dared to venture inside. The only one who seemed untroubled by the whispers with no source, the shadows that danced in your path and the mysterious cold shiver that worked its way down your spine was of course the Librarian. Perhaps all his years had made him immune to such trickery, or maybe he had just seen it all before.

In the corner of his office lay a looking glass, that provided the only light in the room, bathing the room in a dull green glow. It would seem that only the librarian could see clearly in this poorly lit hole, so much so that because he rarely ventured outside the archives, few demons knew what he actually looked like beyond a dark smudge with glowing silvery eyes, sat behind his desk, framed by dusty old books.

A long, dark finger ran across the yellowing parchment, his eyes scanning scripture that had long died out, muttering as he did so. This particular text contained particularly important information on the ailments of demons inflicted by angels in the thirteenth century which needed documenting thoroughly.

A timid knock sounded at the door. “Go away!” the librarian croaked in the darkness. “I’m busy!”

The door opened anyway and a young demon who had obviously gotten lost in the labyrinth of shelves and had suffered at the hands of the souls that she had passed appeared at the door. “Librarian sir,” she squeaked her obvious trembling leaking into her voice. “A raid just came back from an angelic lair. They stole this book for you.” And without another word she passed the dark creature the book.

Two long fingered hands reached out and took the heavy leather bound book and flipped open the pages. An happy sound chimed from the gloom has the Librarian scanned the pages. “A book of Angel prophecies? Interesting. They have done surprisingly well for once. All too often they come back with such drivel. Human garbage like Shakespeare and Jane Austin, but this? This is something useful. Thank you Amanda! You may go now.”

The young demon made to leave but stopped for a second and frowned into the darkness. “My name is Sophia not Amanda,” she said.

“So it is how stupid of me,” the Librarian said only half interested now. He was too engrossed with his new book. “I am old, all the names mixed together in my head.”

Sophia peered at the silvery eyes behind the desk unsure whether he was telling the truth or whether he had actually given her, her real name or not. There was no way of telling with the librarian. He was so old that he worked differently to everyone else. She gave up trying to find clues to her questions and made to leave again only to be interrupted by a horrible strangling squawk from the small, dark creature. “What is it?” she asked frantically.

The librarian didn’t answer and instead rounded his desk to the looking glass. The smoky green glow cleared and a face of a human stared at the blinking up at them innocently. “This human!” he demanded tapping one of his claws on the glass. “We need this human. If the angels have her we are done for! She is their ‘saviour’. Bring her to me! NOW! At once!” Sophia was stunned and frozen unable to think. Two silvery eyes flashed daggers at her from the tiny silhouetted body. “What are you waiting for. I need her NOW! Go! Fetch her!” Sophia squeaked and scampered off into the archives again, leaving the librarian pondering over the face in the mirror. “Lilia,” he mused softly, gazing at her face intently. “Why are you so important…?”




Lilia stirred and Luke teased. At some point he was certain that he had stopped breathing. It was several minutes later that he realised that his lungs were screaming at him and he silently exhaled. There was a fear in him that if he moved an inch from where he was They would noticed, They would come running in to question Lilia. He was frozen, barely breathing, barely making a sound. His fingers cramped to the edge of the worktop behind him his knuckles white, threating to break a chunk off the trendy wooden counter.

Of course this fear was nonsense. They knew everything, they saw everything, they felt everything. The very fact that his heart had quickened and fear pumped through his veins was all they needed to know that Lilia was awake. Someone was probably already on their way right now. Luke knew they would take her away somewhere but where exactly he was not sure.

Still frozen to the spot, he grimaced watching her approach. She was clearly in pain and his stomach twisted at the sight but alas there was nothing he could do to help her. She was beyond all help now. He was at Their mercy. Only able to do what they deemed appropriate all he had to do was place just a toe out of line and They would punish him with such crippling pain. He knew all too well that the pain They had inflicted on him back at the Angels’ hideout was just a drop in the ocean compared to what they were capable of. He had watched demons die in front of him at their hands, blood pouring from their eyes, their ears, their noses, their hands scrambling helplessly at their skin as their flesh seemed to boil underneath. They would tear until the skin broke, screaming in agony. The crowd of demons watching in horror too afraid to help – even if they had the courage there would have been nothing they could do for them. Eventually, they would stop screaming, their frantic scrambling reduced to the occasional twitch until, eventually, they just faded away. Executions among demons were not uncommon but the next one was always more gruesome than the last. It was always the way – they were warnings.

Soon Luke was bombarded with a onslaught of questions. “Luke...what happened? Are...you okay? How did we get here?....where are we?....where is Zaiden?”

His golden eyes filled with sadness as he gazed at her. But soon he could not bear it anymore and they dropped to a spot somewhere between his shoes. He searched for words somewhere but somehow they got caught in his throat and he was unable to answer.

“Are they dead?” She continued, the question causing Luke’s eyes to lift to see the subject of the question but the shame of it all, the guilt kept his head bowed. “Did They kill this couple?”

The second question seemed to sting adding to the boulder of guilt that weighed heavily upon his shoulders. Luke’s only answer was a slight shrug and a shake of his head. He didn’t have the answer to that. It was possible they had fled before the hordes of demons descended on this quarter of the city but once they were out in the street it was quite likely one of his kin had picked them off. The likelihood that the couple were still alive was horribly slim. But this was not what stung the most. It was her use of ‘They’. Such hate was hidden in that word and yet she still had no clue. ‘They’ should have been ‘you’ and her trust in him would melt away as soon as she put two and two together, as soon as she realised what he really was – a monster.

“How did we get away?” she asked him as she moved to the balcony.

Somewhere Luke finally found his voice still frozen to his spot by the counter, his fingers aching still clamped to their position behind him. “You didn’t,” he answered finally. But the words seemed strange. It was too deep as if they voice that had said them wasn’t his own and it tasted sour in his mouth as he said them. There was no point in pretending anymore. He could hear footsteps in the hallway already, marching towards them. Soon she would be taken away and the illusion would be broken, there was little point in keeping it pristine and perfect now.

“This is it…” Lilia continued, “There is nothing I can do … nothing I could ever do…”

Luke sighed with despair. “There is always something humans can do. They are free creatures. The problem is choosing a path that actually makes a difference…” His voice trailed off as he observed her. His expression sad and apologetic. Perhaps in another situation he would have relished watching them drag her away and would be proud of his involvement in it. Not this time.

The footsteps were almost at the door. He could hear an exchange with the guards outside. They was just so little time! He opened his mouth to explain. To tell her he did not wish her fate on her. That if he could he could whisk her away right now and get her to safety miles from this forsaken city. He wanted to tell her that this was not a task he enjoyed, that his urge to protect her was no illusion but …

… the lock in the door opened and the claw-marked door creaked open and Lilia’s new jailer stood ominously in the doorframe.

For Luke the world was silent; devoid of all life and movement, a dead wasteland where the only living thing was the creature in front of him. He felt like a wraith, a morbid angel that had come down to tell her that there was no hope. The words ‘I trusted you’ only strengthened the metaphor and his heart twisted at this realisation … but why? What had They don’t to him? He was a demon. He knew no love or compassion, empathy died with his humanity so why did Lilia’s pain bother him so much now? Why did They feel it was so important for him to feel when before they had dubbed it unnecessary. They were playing games with him, he was sure of it. Games were not beyond Them when they were bored; torturing their own soldiers when tormenting the souls of the living turned stale. But surely They were pre-occupied with taking a Angelic stronghold and rifling through the items they had stolen and rejoicing over there victory? Luke merely shrugged it off. They needed not excuse to torture souls.

“You did a fine job, Luke. A mighty fine job.” The words felt slimy, like hands covered in blood working their way across his skin. All he wanted to do was brush them off and get away from them as quickly as possible, but alas no. He was in Roan’s presence now what little free will he had was now gone. He could only watch as equally slimy hands slid over Lilia’s body. A frown appeared on Luke’s brow, bothered by Roan’s intimacy at her. But this was the point. Roan seemed to enjoy making his underling squirm as much as his victims and the quick grin in his direction only confirmed that he was trying to make him uneasy. The frown deepened as a realisation washed over the young demon: Was it Roan that was tormenting him with these feelings of empathy and concern towards Lilia? Was this the reason why he had not removed them yet now that there presence was no longer needed? So he could watch Luke twitch as he tested how far he could push him until he finally broke? And then there lips touched and Luke could no longer bar watching and his eyes fell to the floor.

Even when Lilia made a futile attempt to escape his eyes did not flick towards them. His eyelids slammed shut as his face contorted into a grimace. He has seen this a thousand times. The human would make to run but the demon would inevitably catch them again and the full horror of their wroth would rain down upon them like a sea of flame. Usually, he would not even bat an eyelid. It was normal and he was hollow like an ancient tree but he was no longer hollow. They had changed that and there was something heavy weighing him down pulling his insides to the floor his chest aching under its weight. The sound of Roan tackling Lilia to the ground, the crunch as his fist rammed into her face, the sound of his voice as he threatened her, each sound was a first twice of the vice around Luke’s chest. It almost felt as though her pain was his.

“What I don't quite understand,” Roan began. Luke dared to open his eyes in their direction. The pain seemed to have subsided for now. “Is what is so special about you. You're just like every other human. You're weak. You're terrified. You're like the prey and we are the predators. Yet, you make this so easy. Just give in. Just let me in and it'll all be over, I'll let you get back to your little life. Or you can stay with us, we can protect you. We already have. Luke saved you from death, you should thank him, you really should.” Luke was staring intently now but at the mention of his name his eyes flicked to Roan and his expression turned from apologetic and miserable to one of disgust. All he wanted to do was shift and run away to find some dark corner and stay there for a while and forget the world, but he knew that the minute he even twitched a finger Roan would have him screaming in agony. He was still perched by the countertop, his fingers now cramping from how hard his gripped the polished wood even through his discomfort he could not help but admire Lilia. Despite, her obvious terror she defied Roan. No one defied Roan. She was strong, certainly a lot stronger than him. The thought bought another painful twist to his insides. If he was stronger he could have saved her… for real this time, not just delivering her to the mouths of the wolves or handing her to some strange game of tug-o-war between the demons and the angels; really save her, set her free even.

It was at this point the air changed, rather than heavy and intense the focus seemed to shift as a timid demon entered the room. Sophia if Luke’s memory served him correctly. She was talking about something the librarian wanted but he didn’t pay attention as Lilia has slinked away from Roan, her eyes connecting with his. Every tear that ran down her face produced a fresh pang of guilt. “Why did you do this to me? You should have just killed me! You should have....just....killed me...” She said.

The words were like daggers, sharp and dangerous. “I couldn’t…” Luke answered weakly. “They wouldn’t have let me. He wouldn’t have let me.” Luke couldn’t bear looking at Roan anymore. The only indication of who ‘he’ was was a slight flick of his head in Roan’s direction.

“Oh he can't do anything that I don't tell him to do.” Roan confirmed, The pressure returning like a flood. The air felt as though it was hardening around him as the demon’s attention focused on Luke. Then there was a new emotion – anger. This was an old emotion but a new subject and the subject was Roan. He had never hated one of Them before. They never allowed it. But this tiny flicker was ether unnoticed or allowed for some reason. Perhaps Roan took pleasure in this reaction. Maybe he enjoyed the fact that Luke had finally been pushed to the point where his torment was causing some kind of reaction if only a spark.

There was a hint of satisfaction when Roan seemed to push Lilia too far too and received a blow to the crotch. It wasn’t just the relief as Roan’s hold on him lessened it was seeing his master crumpling to the ground in pain. It even brought the hint of a smile to his lips. But Luke caught himself at this point and became stern. What was happening to him?! This was not him. Unchecked emotions were dangerous for a demon. Just one wrong move and he would be dead … no, not dead … worse than dead. He would cease to exist. The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

Sophia had caught Lilia but seemed to be waiting for him. He frowned at her. What on Earth would the Librarian want with him? Then the inevitable dread descended. All demons hadn’t going into the archives. It was spooky and perhaps they all feared knowing who they truly were and how they died. Living oblivious they could still cling on to the ridiculous notion that they were at least partly good while they were alive. Of course, this fear was ridiculous. Names, and deaths were hidden from their owners, only the Librarian could find them and return them to their rightful owner and of course he had never once done that in his archaic lifespan.

“I’m taking her to the Librarian,” Sophia announced as Roan finally picked himself off the floor and then they left, Sophia dragging Lilia by the arm like she was a disobedient child headed for punishment.

Then the pressure returned. Roan was on him again. He could feel his control crawling over him like beetles. He was glaring at him suspiciously. Luke could only return a look of confusion before his superior finally spoke. “She trusts you, doesn't she? I'm going to use you, dear boy.” He chuckled, Luke watching as a dark plan unfolded in his eyes. Luke didn’t like the sound of that. “You're going to gain her trust, no matter the odds. If you have to pretend to be in love with her, so be it. Gain her love, so that you can make her do whatever you want. Then, we will have control of this situation. Not the angels.” He smirked, “Yes, her expression was so broken, she'll be easy enough to crack. She still trusts you. Because, you haven't hurt her. She knows that. She will cling to that with all of her might.” And with that he left, leaving Roan’s order hanging heavily over him, his words spinning around his head.

Love? Gain her trust? He had done that thousands of times during outings with Mike but somehow, to do it to Lilia seemed … wrong. And then the iciness of Roan’s orders flooded into him, the chill spreading through his veins, invading every cell of him. It was unpleasant but perhaps that was the point. Roan always craved pain and suffering, why would he spare his demons that treatment in something as simple as giving him orders.

He shook the feeling from him, shaking his head as if the though was just some unwanted leaves stuck in his hair and he straightened. Roan’s presence was like a bad smell and seemed to linger. He felt dirty, contaminated. Another moment in this skin and he would go mad and marching from the apartment the old Luke disappeared replaced with a version that better suited his mood. Although the difference dramatic there was no doubt that this was the same person, merely a person that had gone through an extraordinary make-over.

The warmth of Luke had vanished. His bone-structure sharper and more defined: his jaw heavier and more masculine, his cheek bones high and hawkish. The golden brown was being eaten away by darker, colder hues that crawled there ways from the roots. Soon the golden brown was engulfed by a dark black that shone blue in the light. It was shorter now and with a hand brushing through it, it arranges itself into a messy spiky style. His eyes were no longer the colour of honey but an bright grey light the colour of moonlight. They were not unlike the colour of the silvery demonic shade that they were disguising. This was a new, darker, prickly version of the Luke that had left the apartment, the only thing that remained untouched was the clothes he had been wearing.

Soon marching through the warren of dark corridors he caught up with Sophia and Lilia, just as the human was unceremoniously shoved into the archives and the door slammed shut behind her. Sophia turned to spot him just as Luke arrived and looked over him with a raised eyebrow. “Why not change completely? Why are you so attached to that face?” She asked suspiciously, noticing that he had changed so dramatically yet still remained recognisably the same person.

“Because it’s the only face that is truly mine,” Luke answered simply. “But after that encounter with Roan, I needed a change.”

Sophia eyed him as though she still didn’t understand but asked no more questions and trotted off into the darkness.



The librarian peered through the darkness, his eyes glowing in the shadows as he surveyed Lilia from behind his mountain of books. The book of prophecies lay before him open at a page with a particularly graphic drawing of an angel execution that was just visible in the dull glow that lit the room. It was a long time before the Librarian spoke. “You have seen this life before,” he observed. “You second time living these days. How interesting that the arch angels have discovered that power.” His long clawed fingers reached for a quill and started scribbling something in a tiny book off to the side. “The picture in this book,” he continued, gesturing to the open page vaguely as he continued his scribbles. “What does it mean to you?” he asked his glowing, cat-like eyes finally returning to the human on the other side of his desk analysing her closely. He took a deep drawn breath as if sampling the smell of wine before tasting it. “I smell the scent of longing, and despair… a lover perhaps…?” the final words was long and silky as if he took particular delight in deducting such a fact.

“A lover?” A voice appeared at the entrance to the Librarian’s office and slowly Luke stepped into the gloom. His new eyes were fixed on Lilia, frowning at her but his gaze was a lot softer than the Librarians, like he was trying to understand rather than steal knowledge off her. “I thought angels were forbidden from loving humans,” he asked Lilia, but there was something strange in his voice. What was it? Hurt? Jealousy? Concern?

The Librarian snorted. “Don’t be so naïve Luke! Angels are forever breaking their own rules,” he grumbled, “and they insist demons are the only ones that break the rules.”

The Librarian’s words were a welcome distraction but Luke’s gaze did not leave Lilia, taking in everything about her, the curve of her spine, the flow of her hair, the way it seemed to glow in the dull light…

“But this picture my dear Lilia: What do you feel…?”

… How she stood before the Librarian, how her fingers curled, the sparkle in her eyes…

“This book tells a lot about you my dear. But tell me… what is it that makes you special? Your blood perhaps,” the Librarian continued but his gaze had drifted over her shoulder and was now intensely focused on Luke, squinting suspiciously at him.

… the way she used to laugh and smile, how the sunlight danced in her hair and made her eyes glisten, how she used to bury her face in his chest as he held her…

“Lilia my dear,” the Librarian growled in warning, “I think it would be wise if you stepped aside.” He warned as the tiny demon got up onto his desk and prepared to pounce.

… “I’m going to miss you Baby?” she whispered to him as they lay upon the grass, their bodies warmed by the afternoon sun. “Do you really have to go?”

“There is so much world for me to see out there. I just wish you’d come with me.”

She sighed and got to her knees and stared off longingly into the distance. “I will just have to find some other way to entertain myself then,” she said dismissively in a voice that was not her own… it was … demonic.

He frowned at her and reached for her but before he could pull her back she had spotted someone and was running to them. It was a man, his arms opened wide. She ran into his arms and giggled happily as he picked her up and swung her round…

Luke growled like an animal, his eyes blackening as he stared at Lilia. “Not this time,” he rumbled, the words barely audible but almost without warning he lunged for her, scrambling for her with pointed teeth and clawed hands only to collide with the tiny dark creature that was the Librarian. Luke was thrown much further than you would have thought possible considering the Librarian’s size but when Luke finally picked himself of the floor, he librarian roared. “OUT! Get out! I will not have my research disturbed by young, tormented demons that cannot keep their heads in the presence of their own past. OUT! Out now!”