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- Joined
- Apr 1, 2015
Warning: This RP has extreme gore and violence. If these things bother you, please do not read.
“And in the last days, the sickness will destroy the humanity of humankind. The Queen will serve the King. The greater city will serve the lesser. And the demons will walk the Earth.”
Adella yawned, trying to cover it up with a pretend cough. It did not work, and she felt the cold gaze of the Mistress of Education on her. The angelic training room was the only room in the Heavens with walls and roof. It did not even have any windows. The better to prevent distractions for young restless angels who should be learning.
“Are we boring you, Adella?” The sickeningly sweet voice told Adella that more mockery was to come. She boldly met the vivid molten silver eyes of the Mistress, shrugging her slender shoulders dismissively. The older angel moved in for the kill, her wings arching and fluttering in glee as she skimmed over the golden floor to hover in front of Adella.
“Why don’t you tell us about the prophecy then? Who is the Queen?”
“My mother, of course.” Adella smirked, and her classmates tittered. The Mistress of Education narrowed her eyes.
“Then who is the King?”
The “gotcha” in the Mistress’s voice annoyed Adella.
“The King of the Demons, Lazar…” Her sarcastic response was interrupted by a wave of the Mistresses hand, a magical binding that prevented Adella from continuing. Horrified gasps replaced the amused tittering of her classmates. The other young angels actually drew back from her as if she were a demon herself. Adella rolled her eyes.
___________________________________________________________________
“Adella, what am I going to do with you? None of the other angels in training cause near as much trouble as you.”
Adella shrugged, pointedly ignoring her beautiful mother. Instead she chose to stare out over the velvet forested lands of heaven. They were in the Queen’s Audience room, a large room the size of an earthen ballroom but with no ceiling or walls. It was entirely open to the fresh, sweet-scented heavenly air, the gentle warm breeze. In the distance Adella could see the River of Life spilling over smooth rocks, churning in deep cool pools, angels strolling leisurely through the lined walkways that rambled through the light, airy forest.
Amrintha, Queen of the Heavens and leader of the Guardian Angels, let out a soft, bewildered sigh that would be understood by even the lowliest mother of a rebellious teenage daughter. Technically Adella was seventy-five human years old, but she was treated – and acted – like a spoiled human teenager.
“I think you grow complacent here in the safety of Heaven, Adella. Here you do not see what we fight for. Here….”
“What fighting, mother? We haven’t done any fighting in ages. The demons are all in hiding. Their King has not been seen in ages. This is all so stupid! I don’t…”
“Silence!” Amrintha was no longer a confused mother, she was an angry angelic queen. The soft glow of her wraith-like form burned with a terrible energy that would have blinded any human who looked upon her. Platinum white wings unfolded from behind her, stretching out six feet on either side of her body, feather-tips glowing. Adella shut up.
A call from Amrintha had two Guardian Angels standing witness in the large audience room, and Adella knew she was in trouble.
“I command you to spend one earthen year on Earth. There you will observe the humans. You will witness their pain and fear, their love and light, their goodness and evilness. Maybe then you will understand what we fight for.” Amrintha emphasized the word fight, and Adella’s lips thinned.
So she was going to be exiled from heaven, was she? Just for making fun of the Mistress of Education? If an angel could be called a hag, that one would be the first. An uptight, conceited bitch of a….
“Fine. I will leave now then. It will be refreshing being away from here. Being away from YOU.” Adella spat the words out in a fit of fury and launched herself into the air, her gleaming slender form a spear of light that shot through the heavens. She never looked back to see the stricken, pained look on her mother’s face.
_________________________________________________________________
The streets of New York City were a gloriously garish symphony. Horns blared, cabbies shouted in anger at other cabbies, the click of thousands of heels on the pavement, the hum of thousands of voices. Doors slamming, shopping bags rustling, the whispering roar of thousands of tires on the road. And above it all, the faint whistling breeze of air through the concrete canyons.
A pretty young woman, blond-haired and blue eyed, stood at the corner of E 42nd and 3rd, fumbling in the CVS bag she held before pulling out a small tube of lip balm and applying it with easy, practiced movements. Her eyes flickered through the crowd, stopping and settling on a young man leaning back against the cool glass window of the CVS she had just exited. His face was flushed, small droplets of sweat dripping off his cheeks as he stared down at the ground. She stepped over to him, setting one cool hand against his hot arm.
“Are you ok?”
Stefan Bronderie looked up at the girl, blinking. The rays of the sun that filtered through the high buildings and smog seemed to get trapped in her face, giving her the appearance of a glowing, beautiful…angel.
“I think I’m sick.” His voice was raspy, and as if on cue a shudder of cold tore through his body. The girl’s brow furrowed in concern.
“Do you need me to call…?” She started to lift her cell phone, and he shook his head.
Immediately he regretted the movement but forced a smile. “It must be the apocalypse. I have found a nice person in New York City.”
Her sudden laugh at his pitiful joke was such a burst of bright joy it shot straight to his cock, and he was suddenly embarrassed at his arousal. “No, I’m in the Grand Hyatt…” He waved his hand weakly towards the west. “Can you help…?
“Of course.” She smiled, and his heart froze at the beauty of it. It was a smile that made everything right in the world, that told him he would be ok. It was the light at the end of the tunnel, the softness of a new dawn. The sudden urge to destroy it – and her – was almost overwhelming.
The thought shook him. He was not a bad man. He was in fact, a good man. A businessman who had left his beloved wife and two children back in sunny Los Angeles to attend a meeting here in Manhattan. He pushed the random evilness from his mind and pushed himself off the wall, staggering as he did so.
She caught his arm, and together they slowly made their way to the Hyatt. She was unfailingly kind. Taking him all the way to his room, bringing him cool water, asking again if he needed a doctor. He again declined, assuring her he would take a Tylenol and rest. He would be fine. Just a little bug. She smiled and left him just as he fell asleep.
Stefan woke up starving. His fever was worse, his skin burning from it. His head ached, pounded. Miserable beyond thought, he reached for the bedside phone to call 911, but his hand fell away before he touched it. He was asleep again.
All through the night, Stefan tossed restlessly on the bed, burning with fever. Sweat soaked through the bedlinens. Sometime in the night, overwhelmed from the heat filling his body, he stripped off his clothes.
He woke up again, mindless with hunger. He heard a feminine voice in the hallway calling out a name, a trill of laughter. Ignoring the phone on the bedside table he rolled out of bed, staggering from weakness. His belly rolling ominously, he fumbled his way to the door, throwing it open. Outside in the wide, richly carpeted hallway a woman at the door across the hall turned to stare in shock at Stefan. He did not see the stunned disgust in her eyes. He did not see the soft pretty short black hair. He did not see the fashionable thigh high short skirt or the silk cream colored blouse. His eyes dropped to her perky, large breasts nearly spilling out of her shirt, and the hunger was so sharp it was savage. Without thought he reached for her. She screamed but his hands were already on her, dragging her into his room.
He slammed the door shut behind them, throwing her deeper into the room that smelled of sweat and sickness. Stefan had no thought of his wife or his children. All he thought of was his hard cock and his empty stomach. He fell on the screaming woman with a snarl, tearing at her clothes with mindless brutality, forcing her legs apart and thrusting into her. Her body convulsed under him as his teeth sank into her breast.
_____________________________________________________________________
“This is Peter Randal, reporting from Rome, Italy. A scandal has broken out amongst the Catholic Church tonight when a high ranking cardinal in the Vatican was arrested on charges of rape and murder. Cardinal Anthony Vestaken was arrested in his home tonight when neighbors reported hearing screams from the house. Police found the bodies of two young prostitutes. Both women bore signs of sexual assault, and both bodies had signs of being bitten. One officer who insisted on staying anonymous said the bodies had been chewed on, with big bites having been taken.”
___________________________________________________
The streets of London were eerily quiet when Caddie Westlin set her camera up in Parliament Square. Normally her cameraman would be attending the camera, but her cameraman had refused to go out in public. Most people refused to go out into public since the strange, insidious disease called the Raping Fever had revealed itself. People hid behind locked doors, praying the sickness would pass them by. Caddie adjusted her camera towards St. Margaret’s church. A bit of religious background would be ironic. Moving to the front of the camera she adjusted her bouncy black curls and lifted the microphone to her lips.
She clicked the remote and looked soberly into the camera.
“This is Caddie Westlin reporting live from Parliament Square. Three days ago the first case of Raping Fever appeared in London. The illness begins as a fever that escalates over a period of 5-8 hours. In the already sick, the elderly, and children the fever is fatal. Healthy women and some men recover from the fever, but other men have experienced disturbing changes. They do not respond to their friends and loved ones with any recognition, they eat only human flesh, and they will rape any woman they see. Yesterday, an anonymous source reported that the crown prince of England was sick with the Raping Fever. Since then, no one has come into or out of Buckingham Palace. Earlier this morning the Prime Minister was rushed to the Royal Hospital of London with a reported fever.”
A flicker of movement on the left caught her attention, but Caddie was too well trained to look away from the camera.
“Phone calls to Buckingham Palace have not been answered. Officials urge citizens to remain home. If you become ill, do not go to the hospital. As of noon today, all hospitals within the London area have closed their doors. Calls to emergency responders are being routed to answering machines that instruct citizens to remain home and treat any fevers with over the counter fever medicine.”
More movement, and Caddie twitched but remained staring grimly into the camera.
“Citizens of London and Great Britain, our government can no longer help us. It is now we must work toge…”
A grunting howl interrupted her speech, and she whirled to face to the balding lurching man that suddenly fell on her with another howl of glee. Caddie screamed. Across England, viewers stared in horror at their television sets as the Crown Prince of England began raping reporter Caddie Westlin on live TV. Just before a frantic producer in a studio somewhere cut the live feed, the Prince set his teeth in Caddie’s bare breast and tore a bloody hunk of flesh off, chewing it with a spastic grin as his hips slammed into the screaming, bleeding reporter.
_______________________________________________________
Amrintha stood in the Guardian Center, staring grimly at the dozens of monitors that showed horrifying scenes from cities around the world. Angelic magic was a useful tool, but when it came to surveillance the humans had far more capability. Angels were not shy about using that capability for themselves. The Guardian Center was in their earthbound base, hidden deep in the desolate Arctic Circle. Here on Earth the angels held human female forms. Amrintha was a smooth-skinned platinum blond, with her soft silken hair braided in a long braid that encircled her head in a natural crown. Any man looking at her would have pegged her for a college student, with her skin-tight muddy brown leather pants and tight black tank top, something no Angel would be caught dead wearing while in heaven. But you know what humans said…”When in Rome…”
Amrintha’s green eyes flicked to the section of televisions that showed the streets of Rome, running with the blood of women being raped and murdered in broad daylight. Never mind about Rome. She had heard the infected pope had helped himself to seven women, only two of whom survived the encounter. None of them survived without being bitten.
“We obtained a…sample, Your Majesty.” The center commander winced at her own words, and Amrintha received a flashing mental picture of a naked man with a swollen rigid cock, slicked with sweat, convulsing in the iron-like hands of the angels who held him down in front of the commander. The commander certainly did not look very commanding. She was a small, mousy-brown-haired woman with shy brown eyes. Her too-slender body was wrapped in frayed jeans and a faded black Aerosmith t-shirt.
“We believe it is a demonic plague, but we have not yet located the source, nor have we discovered a cure. It cannot be cured by our healing magic.” The commander’s voice was firm despite her submissive appearance.
Amrintha turned to one of the Guardians standing nearby.
“Summon Adella from her exile.”
The Guardian bowed, then disappeared. Amrintha feared it would take too much time in this chaos to extract Adella, but she could not waste the energy worrying about her daughter right now.
“Gather the Host. Lazarus is behind this. We must find him and stop him.”
“Laz….” The Guardian Commander’s voice faded to a terrified whisper. “You spoke his name, Your Majesty!” The Commander’s voice shook at the horror of it.
Amrintha stopped, studying the Commander in silence for a moment. The silent speculation in Amrintha’s eyes forced the Commander to drop her eyes.
It had been far too long since the Guardian Angels had been forced to actually fight to fulfill their guardianship duties. For years, the Demon King Lazarus had been imprisoned, and his demons hiding. Then Lazarus had escaped thanks to a young angel with no willpower. The angel had never been found. Nor had Lazarus himself, despite the hundreds of angels that had hunted without ceasing. The few demons that came out of hiding were weak creatures an angelic infant could handle with one tiny hand behind her back, and no demons at all had been spotted in over a hundred years, though evidence of their work abounded.
Was it possible those years of peace had weakened the fighting nature of the Angels? Was it possible that Angelic Leaders no longer being selected based on feats of war had weakened their military capabilities? If so, they were possibly doomed.
“Is it the prophecy, Your Majesty?” One of the guardians in the room spoke with a respectful tone, her eyes on the floor.
Amrintha prayed not. If so, Adella’s thoughtless joke in the angels training room may be even less funny than it had been when first said.
“No. It is merely the advance wave of Lazarus coming out of hiding. We go to war.”
Amrintha strode out of the Center with a firm stride, head held high, her black combat boots thumping on the steel floor. No one could know how wracked with guilt and fear for Adella she was. Fear because though angels were immortal, they could still be hurt – and badly. Guilt because it was a terrible time to send an inexperienced angelic princess out into the world with no guardian at her back. But how was Amrintha to know that now, of all times, Lazarus would make his move for checkmate? Was it possible he KNEW Adella was out there on her own? Was there a traitor in her own ranks?
Oh my poor Adella. Please be safe.
___________________________________________________________
“Our Father, who are in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven…”
The frantic chanting annoyed Adella. She wished she could tell these poor nuns that there was no father in heaven. There was, instead, a mother. HER mother. Like the fabled son of god Jesus, Adella was the daughter of a goddess. But unlike Jesus SHE was not a demonic caricature of good designed to lead humanity astray into a dangerous passive dependence on some unseen deity – and succeeding. Adella wanted to scream at them to stand and fight against the mad male creatures pounding on the church doors. But she instinctively knew they would ignore her, may even attack her in their terror. Adella had come here for shelter from the ravaging mob of infected sexualized zombies that roamed the streets of New York now. She thought the small church was empty, but instead about a dozen nuns sat praying a the altar. The door had not even been locked. Adella had promptly barred the door with several empty pews, dragging them over by herself and jamming them up under the door knobs as the nuns kept loudly praying.
“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed are thou among women….”
Adella gritted her teeth. If these nuns only knew they were praying the mocking tale of the rape of Mary, the poor angel who had submitted to Lazarus’s will and released him, only to find herself raped and impregnated by the demon King himself.
The violent clamor at the front door was getting louder, the doors shaking under the banging fists. Adella ran for the altar. A small door led off from the altar into a warren of rooms behind the church, and a hallway that led to the rectory where the priest lived. This was the hallway Adella took at a run. Just as she entered the rectory she heard the crashing of the front doors, then the ensuing blood-curdling screams of the nuns.
The rectory was dark, the shades pulled tightly shut. Only faint teasing glimpses of daylight struggled to get past the thick cloth, creeping around the edges of the curtains and slicing across the room.
“I know what you are.” The husky, ravaged voice froze Adella as she stood in the carpeted living room, surrounded by the vague dark shadows of books, sofa, and chairs.
“An angel. Come to save the world. Tell me, little angel…does your mother know you are so far from home?”
Adella turned slowly, staring into the dark hallway that evil voice came from.
“Come with me, little angel. My King summons you to his presence….”
A shadow moved, and Adella screamed. Mocking laughter boomed behind her as she ran straight through the sliding glass door, crashing through the curtains and the glass and racing across the tiny back yard to vault the iron fence. Sprinkles of glass like bits of cold glittering diamond flew out of her blond hair that streamed behind her as she ran. The demon did not follow, but his laughter trailed after her as she ran sobbing down an alley to….somewhere. Anywhere where demons did not haunt dark hallways and madmen did not roam the streets raping and murdering at will.
“…And the demons will walk the Earth.”
“And in the last days, the sickness will destroy the humanity of humankind. The Queen will serve the King. The greater city will serve the lesser. And the demons will walk the Earth.”
“Are we boring you, Adella?” The sickeningly sweet voice told Adella that more mockery was to come. She boldly met the vivid molten silver eyes of the Mistress, shrugging her slender shoulders dismissively. The older angel moved in for the kill, her wings arching and fluttering in glee as she skimmed over the golden floor to hover in front of Adella.
“Why don’t you tell us about the prophecy then? Who is the Queen?”
“My mother, of course.” Adella smirked, and her classmates tittered. The Mistress of Education narrowed her eyes.
“Then who is the King?”
The “gotcha” in the Mistress’s voice annoyed Adella.
“The King of the Demons, Lazar…” Her sarcastic response was interrupted by a wave of the Mistresses hand, a magical binding that prevented Adella from continuing. Horrified gasps replaced the amused tittering of her classmates. The other young angels actually drew back from her as if she were a demon herself. Adella rolled her eyes.
___________________________________________________________________
“Adella, what am I going to do with you? None of the other angels in training cause near as much trouble as you.”
Adella shrugged, pointedly ignoring her beautiful mother. Instead she chose to stare out over the velvet forested lands of heaven. They were in the Queen’s Audience room, a large room the size of an earthen ballroom but with no ceiling or walls. It was entirely open to the fresh, sweet-scented heavenly air, the gentle warm breeze. In the distance Adella could see the River of Life spilling over smooth rocks, churning in deep cool pools, angels strolling leisurely through the lined walkways that rambled through the light, airy forest.
Amrintha, Queen of the Heavens and leader of the Guardian Angels, let out a soft, bewildered sigh that would be understood by even the lowliest mother of a rebellious teenage daughter. Technically Adella was seventy-five human years old, but she was treated – and acted – like a spoiled human teenager.
“I think you grow complacent here in the safety of Heaven, Adella. Here you do not see what we fight for. Here….”
“What fighting, mother? We haven’t done any fighting in ages. The demons are all in hiding. Their King has not been seen in ages. This is all so stupid! I don’t…”
“Silence!” Amrintha was no longer a confused mother, she was an angry angelic queen. The soft glow of her wraith-like form burned with a terrible energy that would have blinded any human who looked upon her. Platinum white wings unfolded from behind her, stretching out six feet on either side of her body, feather-tips glowing. Adella shut up.
A call from Amrintha had two Guardian Angels standing witness in the large audience room, and Adella knew she was in trouble.
“I command you to spend one earthen year on Earth. There you will observe the humans. You will witness their pain and fear, their love and light, their goodness and evilness. Maybe then you will understand what we fight for.” Amrintha emphasized the word fight, and Adella’s lips thinned.
So she was going to be exiled from heaven, was she? Just for making fun of the Mistress of Education? If an angel could be called a hag, that one would be the first. An uptight, conceited bitch of a….
“Fine. I will leave now then. It will be refreshing being away from here. Being away from YOU.” Adella spat the words out in a fit of fury and launched herself into the air, her gleaming slender form a spear of light that shot through the heavens. She never looked back to see the stricken, pained look on her mother’s face.
_________________________________________________________________
The streets of New York City were a gloriously garish symphony. Horns blared, cabbies shouted in anger at other cabbies, the click of thousands of heels on the pavement, the hum of thousands of voices. Doors slamming, shopping bags rustling, the whispering roar of thousands of tires on the road. And above it all, the faint whistling breeze of air through the concrete canyons.
A pretty young woman, blond-haired and blue eyed, stood at the corner of E 42nd and 3rd, fumbling in the CVS bag she held before pulling out a small tube of lip balm and applying it with easy, practiced movements. Her eyes flickered through the crowd, stopping and settling on a young man leaning back against the cool glass window of the CVS she had just exited. His face was flushed, small droplets of sweat dripping off his cheeks as he stared down at the ground. She stepped over to him, setting one cool hand against his hot arm.
“Are you ok?”
Stefan Bronderie looked up at the girl, blinking. The rays of the sun that filtered through the high buildings and smog seemed to get trapped in her face, giving her the appearance of a glowing, beautiful…angel.
“I think I’m sick.” His voice was raspy, and as if on cue a shudder of cold tore through his body. The girl’s brow furrowed in concern.
“Do you need me to call…?” She started to lift her cell phone, and he shook his head.
Immediately he regretted the movement but forced a smile. “It must be the apocalypse. I have found a nice person in New York City.”
Her sudden laugh at his pitiful joke was such a burst of bright joy it shot straight to his cock, and he was suddenly embarrassed at his arousal. “No, I’m in the Grand Hyatt…” He waved his hand weakly towards the west. “Can you help…?
“Of course.” She smiled, and his heart froze at the beauty of it. It was a smile that made everything right in the world, that told him he would be ok. It was the light at the end of the tunnel, the softness of a new dawn. The sudden urge to destroy it – and her – was almost overwhelming.
The thought shook him. He was not a bad man. He was in fact, a good man. A businessman who had left his beloved wife and two children back in sunny Los Angeles to attend a meeting here in Manhattan. He pushed the random evilness from his mind and pushed himself off the wall, staggering as he did so.
She caught his arm, and together they slowly made their way to the Hyatt. She was unfailingly kind. Taking him all the way to his room, bringing him cool water, asking again if he needed a doctor. He again declined, assuring her he would take a Tylenol and rest. He would be fine. Just a little bug. She smiled and left him just as he fell asleep.
Stefan woke up starving. His fever was worse, his skin burning from it. His head ached, pounded. Miserable beyond thought, he reached for the bedside phone to call 911, but his hand fell away before he touched it. He was asleep again.
All through the night, Stefan tossed restlessly on the bed, burning with fever. Sweat soaked through the bedlinens. Sometime in the night, overwhelmed from the heat filling his body, he stripped off his clothes.
He woke up again, mindless with hunger. He heard a feminine voice in the hallway calling out a name, a trill of laughter. Ignoring the phone on the bedside table he rolled out of bed, staggering from weakness. His belly rolling ominously, he fumbled his way to the door, throwing it open. Outside in the wide, richly carpeted hallway a woman at the door across the hall turned to stare in shock at Stefan. He did not see the stunned disgust in her eyes. He did not see the soft pretty short black hair. He did not see the fashionable thigh high short skirt or the silk cream colored blouse. His eyes dropped to her perky, large breasts nearly spilling out of her shirt, and the hunger was so sharp it was savage. Without thought he reached for her. She screamed but his hands were already on her, dragging her into his room.
He slammed the door shut behind them, throwing her deeper into the room that smelled of sweat and sickness. Stefan had no thought of his wife or his children. All he thought of was his hard cock and his empty stomach. He fell on the screaming woman with a snarl, tearing at her clothes with mindless brutality, forcing her legs apart and thrusting into her. Her body convulsed under him as his teeth sank into her breast.
_____________________________________________________________________
“This is Peter Randal, reporting from Rome, Italy. A scandal has broken out amongst the Catholic Church tonight when a high ranking cardinal in the Vatican was arrested on charges of rape and murder. Cardinal Anthony Vestaken was arrested in his home tonight when neighbors reported hearing screams from the house. Police found the bodies of two young prostitutes. Both women bore signs of sexual assault, and both bodies had signs of being bitten. One officer who insisted on staying anonymous said the bodies had been chewed on, with big bites having been taken.”
___________________________________________________
The streets of London were eerily quiet when Caddie Westlin set her camera up in Parliament Square. Normally her cameraman would be attending the camera, but her cameraman had refused to go out in public. Most people refused to go out into public since the strange, insidious disease called the Raping Fever had revealed itself. People hid behind locked doors, praying the sickness would pass them by. Caddie adjusted her camera towards St. Margaret’s church. A bit of religious background would be ironic. Moving to the front of the camera she adjusted her bouncy black curls and lifted the microphone to her lips.
She clicked the remote and looked soberly into the camera.
“This is Caddie Westlin reporting live from Parliament Square. Three days ago the first case of Raping Fever appeared in London. The illness begins as a fever that escalates over a period of 5-8 hours. In the already sick, the elderly, and children the fever is fatal. Healthy women and some men recover from the fever, but other men have experienced disturbing changes. They do not respond to their friends and loved ones with any recognition, they eat only human flesh, and they will rape any woman they see. Yesterday, an anonymous source reported that the crown prince of England was sick with the Raping Fever. Since then, no one has come into or out of Buckingham Palace. Earlier this morning the Prime Minister was rushed to the Royal Hospital of London with a reported fever.”
A flicker of movement on the left caught her attention, but Caddie was too well trained to look away from the camera.
“Phone calls to Buckingham Palace have not been answered. Officials urge citizens to remain home. If you become ill, do not go to the hospital. As of noon today, all hospitals within the London area have closed their doors. Calls to emergency responders are being routed to answering machines that instruct citizens to remain home and treat any fevers with over the counter fever medicine.”
More movement, and Caddie twitched but remained staring grimly into the camera.
“Citizens of London and Great Britain, our government can no longer help us. It is now we must work toge…”
A grunting howl interrupted her speech, and she whirled to face to the balding lurching man that suddenly fell on her with another howl of glee. Caddie screamed. Across England, viewers stared in horror at their television sets as the Crown Prince of England began raping reporter Caddie Westlin on live TV. Just before a frantic producer in a studio somewhere cut the live feed, the Prince set his teeth in Caddie’s bare breast and tore a bloody hunk of flesh off, chewing it with a spastic grin as his hips slammed into the screaming, bleeding reporter.
_______________________________________________________
Amrintha stood in the Guardian Center, staring grimly at the dozens of monitors that showed horrifying scenes from cities around the world. Angelic magic was a useful tool, but when it came to surveillance the humans had far more capability. Angels were not shy about using that capability for themselves. The Guardian Center was in their earthbound base, hidden deep in the desolate Arctic Circle. Here on Earth the angels held human female forms. Amrintha was a smooth-skinned platinum blond, with her soft silken hair braided in a long braid that encircled her head in a natural crown. Any man looking at her would have pegged her for a college student, with her skin-tight muddy brown leather pants and tight black tank top, something no Angel would be caught dead wearing while in heaven. But you know what humans said…”When in Rome…”
Amrintha’s green eyes flicked to the section of televisions that showed the streets of Rome, running with the blood of women being raped and murdered in broad daylight. Never mind about Rome. She had heard the infected pope had helped himself to seven women, only two of whom survived the encounter. None of them survived without being bitten.
“We obtained a…sample, Your Majesty.” The center commander winced at her own words, and Amrintha received a flashing mental picture of a naked man with a swollen rigid cock, slicked with sweat, convulsing in the iron-like hands of the angels who held him down in front of the commander. The commander certainly did not look very commanding. She was a small, mousy-brown-haired woman with shy brown eyes. Her too-slender body was wrapped in frayed jeans and a faded black Aerosmith t-shirt.
“We believe it is a demonic plague, but we have not yet located the source, nor have we discovered a cure. It cannot be cured by our healing magic.” The commander’s voice was firm despite her submissive appearance.
Amrintha turned to one of the Guardians standing nearby.
“Summon Adella from her exile.”
The Guardian bowed, then disappeared. Amrintha feared it would take too much time in this chaos to extract Adella, but she could not waste the energy worrying about her daughter right now.
“Gather the Host. Lazarus is behind this. We must find him and stop him.”
“Laz….” The Guardian Commander’s voice faded to a terrified whisper. “You spoke his name, Your Majesty!” The Commander’s voice shook at the horror of it.
Amrintha stopped, studying the Commander in silence for a moment. The silent speculation in Amrintha’s eyes forced the Commander to drop her eyes.
It had been far too long since the Guardian Angels had been forced to actually fight to fulfill their guardianship duties. For years, the Demon King Lazarus had been imprisoned, and his demons hiding. Then Lazarus had escaped thanks to a young angel with no willpower. The angel had never been found. Nor had Lazarus himself, despite the hundreds of angels that had hunted without ceasing. The few demons that came out of hiding were weak creatures an angelic infant could handle with one tiny hand behind her back, and no demons at all had been spotted in over a hundred years, though evidence of their work abounded.
Was it possible those years of peace had weakened the fighting nature of the Angels? Was it possible that Angelic Leaders no longer being selected based on feats of war had weakened their military capabilities? If so, they were possibly doomed.
“Is it the prophecy, Your Majesty?” One of the guardians in the room spoke with a respectful tone, her eyes on the floor.
Amrintha prayed not. If so, Adella’s thoughtless joke in the angels training room may be even less funny than it had been when first said.
“No. It is merely the advance wave of Lazarus coming out of hiding. We go to war.”
Amrintha strode out of the Center with a firm stride, head held high, her black combat boots thumping on the steel floor. No one could know how wracked with guilt and fear for Adella she was. Fear because though angels were immortal, they could still be hurt – and badly. Guilt because it was a terrible time to send an inexperienced angelic princess out into the world with no guardian at her back. But how was Amrintha to know that now, of all times, Lazarus would make his move for checkmate? Was it possible he KNEW Adella was out there on her own? Was there a traitor in her own ranks?
Oh my poor Adella. Please be safe.
___________________________________________________________
“Our Father, who are in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven…”
The frantic chanting annoyed Adella. She wished she could tell these poor nuns that there was no father in heaven. There was, instead, a mother. HER mother. Like the fabled son of god Jesus, Adella was the daughter of a goddess. But unlike Jesus SHE was not a demonic caricature of good designed to lead humanity astray into a dangerous passive dependence on some unseen deity – and succeeding. Adella wanted to scream at them to stand and fight against the mad male creatures pounding on the church doors. But she instinctively knew they would ignore her, may even attack her in their terror. Adella had come here for shelter from the ravaging mob of infected sexualized zombies that roamed the streets of New York now. She thought the small church was empty, but instead about a dozen nuns sat praying a the altar. The door had not even been locked. Adella had promptly barred the door with several empty pews, dragging them over by herself and jamming them up under the door knobs as the nuns kept loudly praying.
“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed are thou among women….”
Adella gritted her teeth. If these nuns only knew they were praying the mocking tale of the rape of Mary, the poor angel who had submitted to Lazarus’s will and released him, only to find herself raped and impregnated by the demon King himself.
The violent clamor at the front door was getting louder, the doors shaking under the banging fists. Adella ran for the altar. A small door led off from the altar into a warren of rooms behind the church, and a hallway that led to the rectory where the priest lived. This was the hallway Adella took at a run. Just as she entered the rectory she heard the crashing of the front doors, then the ensuing blood-curdling screams of the nuns.
The rectory was dark, the shades pulled tightly shut. Only faint teasing glimpses of daylight struggled to get past the thick cloth, creeping around the edges of the curtains and slicing across the room.
“I know what you are.” The husky, ravaged voice froze Adella as she stood in the carpeted living room, surrounded by the vague dark shadows of books, sofa, and chairs.
“An angel. Come to save the world. Tell me, little angel…does your mother know you are so far from home?”
Adella turned slowly, staring into the dark hallway that evil voice came from.
“Come with me, little angel. My King summons you to his presence….”
A shadow moved, and Adella screamed. Mocking laughter boomed behind her as she ran straight through the sliding glass door, crashing through the curtains and the glass and racing across the tiny back yard to vault the iron fence. Sprinkles of glass like bits of cold glittering diamond flew out of her blond hair that streamed behind her as she ran. The demon did not follow, but his laughter trailed after her as she ran sobbing down an alley to….somewhere. Anywhere where demons did not haunt dark hallways and madmen did not roam the streets raping and murdering at will.
“…And the demons will walk the Earth.”