Baltoh followed her and they both sat on the couch.
"Yes, but not in the way you believe. The ritual of exorcism does not call the power of Jehovah to banish a Demon back to Hell, it is more like a summoning ritual for Angels, except that it only has to draw their attention, as Angels have the ability to pass through dimensional barriers. Consider yourself lucky that demonic entities are incapable of having that ability. When an exorcism is performed, it is a SOS to the forces in Heaven that you need help destroying a demonic entity or evil soul. Making their bodies invisible so that they can’t be seen, the Angels and even Archangels will arrive and battle the entity that is being exorcized, eventually destroying it once and for all.
Often times these battles can get extremely violent and destructive, so Angels answering the call of exorcisms always arrive in groups. One or more fights the entity or evil spirit, others cast a barrier that instantly repairs anything destroyed in the fight and hiding the events from outside viewers, and another to protect the ones performing the exorcism and anyone else in the area, always having to heal their wounds and alter their memories. Entire city blocks can be annihilated in one of these battles and people can be so badly wounded that they are brought to the brink of death. When that happens, the Angels will do everything in their power to avoid acknowledgement by the general public. They will wipe memories, rebuild anything destroyed, and even manipulate the media and Internet to destroy all reports or pictures of the incident.
When it comes to Demons vs. Archangels, the battles are waged using ancient spells and incantations that focus the respective energies of the two fighters. Being a hybrid, I can use both Heaven and Hell spells."
"But why do the Angels make themselves invisible? Why not show themselves? And why do they have to alter people’s memories?"
"After the death of Christ, Jehovah decreed that Angels and Archangels were to halt all visible actions in the World of the Living. Any actions taken had to be while disguised as humans and without exposing themselves or done while completely invisible. The forces of Heaven barely ever come to Earth anymore for anything other than answering the calls of exorcism.
Demons and Gargoyles also stay invisible almost constantly, but for a different reason. Whenever a demonic entity visually reveals itself, it becomes exposed to the light of this world. They can handle revealing themselves indoors and outside at night without too much pain or trouble, but becoming visible in broad daylight is like being set on fire."
"Do you know why God made that law?"
"To be honest, Jehovah wanted to promote the lack of faith which was born at the turn of the century. After almost two thousand years of war and suffering caused by Christianity alone, he decided that the world would be better off in the hands of atheists, as there is no extremism when there is no faith. A world without religion is a far more peaceful world than one where people fight over the deity they believe in."
Selene was silent for several moments as she tried to think of another question. "If hunting these Demons and Gargoyles is giving you so much trouble, why don’t you just ask the Angels for help?"
Baltoh sighed. "The Angels hate me just as much as the Demons do. I may be half Archangel, but I was also born a Demon and am still half of one, not to mention the fact that I am an abomination. Even though I have slain entire armies of Demons in my life, they see me as a huge threat that must be destroyed. I have come to Earth thousands of times before (as I previously mentioned, a few of them were due to being caught in summoning rituals), and every time I arrive, they try to destroy me because I am that much of a danger to the balance of the three universes.
The fact that I am talking to you right now and didn’t bother to cover that blast better will certainly come back to bite me when they show up, but frankly, I don’t give a damn what Jehovah decreed. I am the sum of millions of people who have been sent to Hell for killing in the name of justice. If anything, I blame him for my very existence and consider him my enemy."
More than a minute passed by, in which neither Selene nor Baltoh spoke or even made eye contact. Looking at Selene in the corner of his eye, Baltoh was trying to understand what it was about this human that had piqued his curiosity, while Selene was trying to process everything she had seen, heard, and experienced in the last twenty-four hours.
"Thank you," Selene finally said.
Baltoh looked up.
"Thank you for saving me last night. If hadn’t come, I would have been raped and probably killed."
"I was born out of the desire to slay evil, how could I have allowed such a crime to happen?"
"What you said back there, ‘your hatred is nothing compared to mine’, is that really how you measure your power? Is there anything other than hatred within you?" she asked with the slightest hint of sadness.
"It is what I was born from, it is what I am made of. Hatred is who I am, it is everything that I am," he responded, with a similar touch of sadness to his voice.
"So you can really do nothing more than hate?"
"I can’t imagine being anything else."
Selene then gained the smallest of smiles, so light that it was barely visible, but not so subtle that Baltoh didn’t immediately see it. "You care. You didn’t just kill those rapists in the alley, you healed my wounds and brought me back to my home. Today in the subway, you spoke kindly to me when I interrupted your battle instead of just knocking me aside, and you even shielded me with your wings."
Baltoh maintained his melancholic face.
"Listen, the fact that you haven’t caught these monsters yet means that it will probably take time. During that time, if you ever want to take a break or talk to someone, just come find me."
Baltoh gave a small nod and stood up. "You still have that feather, right?"
"Of course," Selene answered, almost excitedly.
"Keep it with you, and if you are ever in danger, I will sense it and be able to find you," he said before becoming intangible and walking through the wall, leaving Selene resting her chin on her hand with a dreamy expression on her face.
"So did you see that black line in the sky yesterday?" Molly asked, causing Selene to perk up like a cat at the sound of a passing mouse.
She was in the break room of her office building, looking in low cabinets for any coffee cans so that she could make a fresh pot. The break room was like any other in the world, with a line of high cabinets and low cabinets against the wall, a small fridge, dingy lighting, a table and a few chairs, a "stainless" steel sink, and a bullshit motivational poster that served only to add some color to the beige wall.
Molly was sitting up on the counter like a little kid, curling her long blond hair around her finger. She was both the equal and opposite to Selene, with golden hair, bright blue eyes, and pale skin, but she had a fit build with voluptuous curves, the perfect combination of good genes and countless hours at the gym. She and Selene had been best friends since they were first interns and were closer than sisters.
"Uh… no… I spent the day in bed. I got that bad 24 hour flu that has been going around." she replied, avoiding eye contact while she set up the coffee maker.
"Jeez, that’s a real shame. Everyone’s talking about it but there isn’t a single picture of it anywhere, not on the news, in the papers, or even online. Normally if someone falls off their motorcycle, people have their phones ready to upload it to Youtube before he even hits the ground. And it was almost right in the middle of the city where everyone saw it," her friend muttered while trying to break a jumbled knot of a few strands of her hair.
The words of her friend gave Selene a flashback of what Baltoh had said about Angels removing all traces of incidents and even manipulating the media.
"I’m sure it will be online by the end of the day, someone had to have recorded it," she shrugged as the coffee pot was slowly filled with the hot black brew.
"I hope so, I really want you to see it," Molly said as he held out her empty mug.
While the coffee was poured, a balding man with glasses and a large handlebar mustache stepped into the break room. "Ladies, less talking, more typing." He nagged.
"Just a minute Mr. Reed," Molly said with a smile that was as fake as a politician’s promises.
The manager left and Molly turned back to Selene with a look of disgust. "I cannot stand that bastard. I just want to grab that mustache of his and swing him around before throwing him out a window."
"Just be careful, because if he hears you, you’ll be the one on your knees "begging" for your job."
Coffee cup in hand, Selene returned to her cubicle and sat behind her desk. Typing away on her computer, she tried to keep her mind focused on her work, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Baltoh and her purse, which had his feather stitched into the side, something which Molly had joked about being so out of style that she might as well just call her purse a satchel.
After everything she had seen and heard, it was natural for her to question her current life. After learning that Heaven, Hell, Angels, Demons, and even the God and Devil existed, was it really unusual to think she had seen too much to just go back to her boring job? Now she wanted to get involved, she wanted to know more, she wanted to take part in Baltoh’s battle against the Demons and just do something that would let her know that she had a place in the bigger world.
Putting her purse on her desk so that she could at least keep her eyes on the feather, she eventually managed to get some actual work done.
Baltoh stood on the roof of a skyscraper, completely invisible as he gazed out at the city and tried to sense the energy signatures of Abaddon or any of the Gargoyles. Unlike in Hell, the dark spirits were keeping their powers hidden to avoid detection, making it next to impossible for Baltoh to pick them up. As he scanned the concrete jungle below, a bright pillar of light shown down from the sky like a beam of sunlight piercing a layer of thick clouds.
Floating down from the sky, a man appeared with pearly eagle-like wings stretching from his back and landed behind Baltoh, invisible to all but the hybrid.
"Salvis Michael, egonst eratum admiratchas cumorsque votbac utinsames postendaccre usquortdes," Baltoh dryly said as he stood up and turned around.
The words of the statement carried a weight and ominous tone that no other language held, as it was the language of the Underworld; Hellscript, a dialect of Latin and a form of speaking that was very dangerous to humans. If spoken in the general public, every mortal within earshot would be brought to their knees by crippling sickness. Speaking entire phrases like Baltoh had just done would cause them to throw up and begin bleeding from their mouth, nose, and even ears and eyes.
In English, it translated to, ‘Hello Michael, I was wondering when you would show up.’
The Archangel’s clothes greatly resembled Baltoh’s, as he wore boots, baggy pants, a sash, and a vest over their long-sleeve shirts. The only differences were that his clothes were as white as his feathers, he didn’t have a hood, and he didn’t have a pair of shackles on his wrists, though his did have the rosary bead chains. His complexion was much tanner than Baltoh’s grey skin tone, and he lacked claws, a tail, and of course, a pair of Demon wings. His ears were pointed and he had a single line of red wavy hair going across his head like a Mohawk.
"Nanpaeel itpamis gotho ols oliog noshtoah oxvecvfa oasdriax gie coailg, babalons hamil! Osd nanpaeel gotho fabotan toiad exharsp lits maed mashorela Hellscript," Michael scolded in Enochian, the language of Heaven.
Translated, it meant, ‘Do not speak to me as if we are friends, evil creature! And do not poison the air with your dark Hellscript.’
"English then," Baltoh sighed. Michael scowled but nodded.
"You should consider yourself lucky that I decided to be charitable and not attack the second I entered this realm."
"Even if you attacked me Michael, it would do you no good. You know as well as I do that my power is worlds apart from yours. Unlike you, I walk between both worlds of light and darkness, making me far stronger than you could ever hope to be. Know your place, Archangel."
"Your arrogance is truly that of a Demon, proof that you are and will always be a Hell-spawned abomination. Not to mention the fact that you have the same habit of getting involved with people as the dark beasts that feed on misery. You have caused catastrophic damage to the city without even eliminating all traces of your existence and have even socialized and murdered humans. This is a crime of the highest order!" Michael thundered, swinging his arm.
"The laws of Jehovah mean nothing to me. Your king is a apathetic fool, at least I do good in this world. He doesn’t even try to punish me for these "crimes" of mine, so either he truly doesn’t care about Earth or he is afraid of my power."
"Blasphemy!" Michael hissed as he held out his hand.
There was a bright flash of light from his palm and a broadsword materialized in his grip. The handle was of twisted gold wire with a ruby pommel, the bronze guard was shaped and engraved to look like a pair of Angel wings, and the blade was sterling silver but stronger than steel.
"Say one more word, and I will cut you down here and now! The Demon and Gargoyles can wait, but your death is long overdue!"
At the mention of Abaddon and his minions, Baltoh condescendingly clicked his tongue and turned around. "Go back to your cloud kingdom, Michael. The situation is the business of Hell inhabitants only. If you want to get involved, do it on your own time when I don’t have to be called up."
"The situation is truly serious, you know that better than anyone. This time, Heaven cannot afford to stay out of the mess," Michael argued, lowering his sword and softening his tone.
"I grow tired of this conversation Archangel. Leave me in peace and don’t come back."
"And if I don’t?" Michael growled, bringing his sword back up.
Baltoh turned Michael and pointed down at the city, with a marble-sized sphere of dark energy crackling at the tip of the claw of his index finger. "Then I’ll fire a Dark Pulse straight into the city and obliterate the next three miles of buildings."
Michael paled at the threat. "You wouldn’t dare!"
"I’m half Demon, remember? You never know what I’ll do," Baltoh said with a small smile.
Michael glared at Baltoh for several seconds before turning around. "The next time I see you, I will not hesitate to cut you down," he warned before spreading his wings and flying away.
Abaddon was sitting on a boulder in a cavern deep below the city with his remaining Gargoyles around him like loyal hounds. Whimpering in fear and pain was a girl at his feet, eighteen years old with auburn hair and pale skin. She had her hands wrapped around her ankles, trying to stop the bleeding from her severed Achilles tendons. Abaddon had cut them to cripple her and keep her from running, and he had threatened to cut off her hands if she tried to crawl away.
The sadistic beast had recovered from his battle with Baltoh but was still severely weakened, even after raping and devouring some homeless people. In front of him, a small flash of red light popped about two meters above the ground and held its form as a burning sphere.
The sphere trembled as a claw-like point protruded from the side. The sphere slowly expanded, allowing for another bony point to reveal itself. The two claws pushed against the sides of the sphere in opposite directions, slowly stretching it into a two-dimensional curtain, less than a foot long, and slowly showing more of their actual size. As the blob-like curtain was expanded, more hook-like claws were reaching out of the fiery depths of the small manifestation, latching themselves onto the edges of reality and pushing it, basically clamping onto the torn border between Earth and Hell itself.
At a meter in diameter, the interior of the fiery curtain seemingly fell away, revealing a burning tunnel with black fog pouring out. The claws that were hooked around the edges of the portal were the size of tree logs, and with each open space that formed by stretching the portal, another claw would reach out and latch onto the edge, helping to widen the doorway.
Finally, when the portal was about seven feet in diameter, a Demon leapt out, landing the floor and gasping for breath. The Demon looked remarkably similar to Abaddon, with the same humanoid-Gargoyle body and characteristics, only he didn’t have hair and his twisted horns were more like the horns of a bull than a goat like Abaddon. Like the Demon, he wore a medieval-style skirt of armor plates and had a metal shackle on each wrist.
"Damn you, you could have at least helped me. That was barely better than being summoned," the Demon snarled at Abaddon as he tried to get on his feet.
"I received no help, Rimmon. I don’t see why I should help you."
"Or was it that you were just too weak to actually do anything? I heard that you got into a fight with Baltoh, I’m surprised he actually let you live."
Abaddon stood up with a growl. "Now you listen to me, your job is to keep that traitor off my back. I have a job to do and I can’t do it if he’ll swoop in out of nowhere and slice off my head."
Rimmon clicked his forked tongue at Abaddon’s tone. "So helpless. I know what my orders are; you don’t have to remind me. But in order to do that, I need to know that you are following your orders as well. Why in the Dark Lord’s name have you and the Gargoyles not taken a human host yet?!"
"I’ve been waiting for us to all get our strength back after crossing over. The Gargoyles and I need to be in pique condition before we take action, just in case an Angel or Baltoh shows up. I’m still recovering from my battle, so it will still take time to regain my full strength," Abaddon defended before sitting back down on the boulder.
"Well have you at least picked your targets?"
"I’ve only seen a few humans that would serve as proficient hosts for our plans, but we don’t need too many important people. Once we move forward, we’ll just pick whoever will be appealing and then move forward with our plans."
"Tch, I have to go feed," Rimmon smirked as he walked off.
"Hold on, I don’t want us to start this mission on the wrong foot," Abaddon said with a smile as he picked up the girl on the ground by the back of her shirt and threw her like a discarded coat. Rimmon caught her by the wrist and grinned, taking great pleasure in the way she cried as he dug his claws into her soft flesh.
"These living humans are so much more pure and intolerant to pain than the prisoners in Hell, their screams of agony and humiliation are like music. Torturing this one girl will give you as much energy as eating five. She’s a little gift to help you regain some strength."
Rimmon laughed as well, dropping the girl to the ground and then kicking her.
"I’m going to go look for some more food, you have fun with your new toy," Abaddon lazily waved as he got up and left.
Chuckling sadistically, Rimmon kicked the girl again, knocking her across the cavern floor. The scared sobbing victim desperately tried to crawl away with her tears practically pouring onto the floor, but was stopped and gave a agonizing screech as Rimmon slashed her across the back with his claws, licking the blood off the bladed talons as her shredded shirt and bra fell away.
"Please don’t kill me, please!" she begged of the Demon.
Rimmon gave a cruel laugh and crouched down over her, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back. "You will die, but when I’m through with you, you’ll be begging for death," he hissed in her ear before licking the tears off her face with his long forked tongue.
The girl gave another painful scream as he slashed her across the ass, literally carving off her skirt and panties. Her lily-white rear was now wet with blood from five deep gashes. Wrapping his tail around her waist, Rimmon lifted the girl up onto her hands and knees as he removed his cock, which was inhumanly large and ridged like a cactus without quills.
"Please no, please no no no!" the girl begged, pulling on the ground to try and get away.
"I hope you’re a virgin, because that’s like the cherry on top!"
Rimmon positioned himself behind her with the barbed head of his spiny cock pressed against the untouched lips of her pussy. Grabbing her by the hips and digging into her flesh with his claws, Rimmon forced his member all the way into her in a single cruel shove.
As the serrated phallus tore through the girl’s virgin cunt and completely shredded her hymen, she screamed so loud in pain and humiliation that the Gargoyles in the cave growled in annoyance instead of pleasure. Rimmon groaned in evil bliss as he let his cock become accustomed to the softness of the woman’s cunt. Blood was trickling in a steady stream, but it wasn’t just from her hymen. Hung like a horse, barbed like a harpoon, and ridged like a human spine, Rimmon’s dick had ripped apart her insides, opening up multiple lacerations. Add in the fact that an object of that size moving through such a small and tight opening is like using a jackhammer for a surgical incision, and she had basically just experienced giving birth to a near full-grown lobster, but reversed. Also, add in just the mental strain of what was passing through the girl’s mind as that happened and of the situation, and it’s hard to decide whether the mental pain was the greatest or physical pain.
Licking his lips, the Demon pulled out of his victim, forcing her to cry out just as loud and tearfully as when he deflowered her, due to the barb at the head and ridges scraping against the bleeding cuts. The trickle of blood turned into a full-on pour as Rimmon pulled out, to which he caught a palm-full of it with his cupped hand and drank it like it was elixir of eternal youth. With his grip on his torture slave tightened, Rimmon forced his cock back into her brutalized pussy. This time, the girl did not shriek in agony or humiliation, as she was too busy vomiting from them. The pain and mental scarring was so intense that her stomach actually purged itself of its contents.
Now that the girl’s snatch was nice and loose (or ripped open like an old shoe), Rimmon began moving back and forth, pumping her with his bulging phallus. The girl was facedown in the puddle of her vomit, sobbing uncontrollably at the unfathomable anguish that was burning inside her from the waist. The only way she could describe the feeling was that it was like getting probed by a chainsaw, and in her mind, the tormenting thoughts of her slain family, her stolen virginity, her defiled purity, her tainted self-esteem, and her subjugated naked bleeding body played like a horror movie that she could not look away from.
The torture victim’s only relief came from the fact that she would soon be dead, that the incredible blood loss was making her delirious, and that her entire lower body had been so heavily damaged that her nerves were only half functioning.
After twenty minutes of the savage torture, Rimmon finally pulled out of his young victim, who was nearly catatonic. The woman’s pussy was far beyond gaping, as the rape had been so brutal and hard that it had broken her pelvis, ripped her open, and shredded the flesh inside like grass under a weed whacker. Her pussy looked like a grenade had just detonated inside of it. Not to mention the fact that she would never walk again even if she lived. She lied there like a limp ragdoll, her mouth open, her eyes glazed over, and her mind almost completely shut down.
Sensing life still in her, Rimmon pulled her by her hair over to him and forced his cock into her soft mouth. As if woken up from a bad dream, the girl suddenly became wild and tried to push the Demon away, but could not free herself or remove the phallus that was completely filling her throat. She gagged and screamed as the pain from her injuries came back, prompting her to throw up with Rimmon’s dick still in her mouth and throat.
Rimmon gripped her head and looked up, snarling like an angry lion as he finally came, launching almost half a pint of semen into the girl’s esophagus. The brutalized girl gave one final scream as the acidic slime began to burn through her vocal cords, but quickly became silent as her arteries and spinal cord were the next to go. With her head being severed from her body, Rimmon dismounted her face and wiped the vomit off his cock, chuckling to himself as he tried to think back to the last time he had such a great fuck. Redressing in the Roman soldier-like skirt of armor plates that all Demons wore, he turned around as Abaddon returned, dragging some dead people and a few living ones.
"I take it you enjoyed yourself," he said a grin. Instead of speaking, Rimmon just mirrored the facial expression.
"Good, then let’s eat up, because we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow."
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