Dawn found Heart awake, the first grey wisps of morning flowing in
around the heavy velvet curtains.
Sunrise! She thought excitedly. That was enough to prompt her out of
bed. She grabbed her glasses off the bedside table and hurried to the
window. She peeked around the curtain, grateful their room was high
enough above the surrounding buildings to allow her to see the sun rise.
She watched happily as the huge orange orb crept slowly into the sky,
glistening off the glass buildings and lighting the city with a warm
ethereal flame. It washed the city with a copper glow and the promise of
a bright new day.
Filled with euphoria at the beautiful sight, Heart watched until the
copper faded to the plain light of day, then let the curtain fall,
plunging the room into twilight again. She turned and sat on the small
couch to look through the assortment of magazines the hotel had
provided. She found a few that contained listings of places to go for
entertainment, and her mind reeled at the myriad of plays, museums,
night clubs, and fancy restaurants this city had to offer. She couldn't
wait till Seraph awoke so they could go and do all these things
together.
She looked to the bed where Seraph still lay sleeping. Her pale skin
seemed to be still fresh and glowing from the night before. Her wings
sprawled off the bed, their tips nearly spanning the room. Her tail
trailed off the end of the bed, its tip twitching with her dreams. Her
long legs were curled slightly to one side, offering only a small
glimpse of the curly white locks that crowned her pubis, and her
delicate purple hooves poked out from the tangle of sheets around the
end of the bed. One of her long-nailed hands rested on one of her
generous breasts, the other dangling off the side of the bed. Her long
hair made a pale corona around her head, accenting the small curved
horns on her temples. Her full, red lips were parted just slightly, her
elongated canines shaping her lower lip into a small pout. A look of
utter peace graced her face, giving her a glow that spoke of
contentment.
Heart was enraptured. Seraph was so beautiful when she was sleeping.
Heart watched her for almost an hour as she tossed and purred, small
noises of pleasure reminiscent of their previous night escaping her now
and then.
At a murmured "Mmmmmm... Heart...." from the still-sleeping succubus,
Heart smiled, her entire body filling and swelling with a warm sensation
that flowed from inside out. Seraph even dreamed about her...
She reflected on the activities of the night before, the sheer joy of
feeling Seraph's love flowing from her, filling her, the rush of passion
that had burned through her, the pleasures of sharing that passion with
Seraph, the ecstasies of feeling her feed. Heart's eyes teared at the
awesome power their lovemaking had released. Her emotions, her heart,
and her soul were singing a song sweeter than ten thousand hosannas. How
could she ever have believed something so glorious was wrong?
Finally, she was unable to gaze at Seraph anymore without an
overwhelming urge to wake her and renew their activities. She stretched;
reveling in the ways Seraph had made her body feel, then turned to the
TV, looking for a distraction. She pushed her glasses back up her nose
as she flipped the channels, her face souring at the sight of all the
violence, the gratuitous sex, and the constant promises of instant
gratification and indulgence. It was all so overwhelmingly
sensationalist. Where was the love?
Then she found a movie about angels. She was mildly disturbed at the
black trench-coats they all wore, but she smiled happily as they all
gathered to watch the sunrise, just as she had. However, when the
Angelic main character fell in love with a human, her heart went out to
him. It was so like her and Seraph. Then, when in the movie, he fell,
she couldn't bear it any more, she turned off the TV, tears in her eyes.
Why was love a crime?
Then her eyes fell on the white purse that contained all her
belongings...
Until then, she'd been able to forget that she'd Fallen, had managed to
push it all to the back of her mind and ignore it, but the sight of the
purse, and the knowledge of what was in it combined with the movie
brought it all crashing down like a bludgeon. Numbly, she sat on the
couch and began to pull out the mementos of the life she had lost...
Her harp was the first thing she placed on the small table before the
couch, an ancient instrument of Greek design. It had been crafted for
her by one of her first assignments as a young Guardian Angel. Demetrius
had been a master harp maker, enslaved to a Roman Patrician in the first
century. He'd converted to Christianity and, fresh out of the academy,
Heart had been assigned to guide and guard him. She'd never known he
could see her until she was playing one day and he had whispered "Your
song would shame even the Muses..."
He'd spent a decade crafting a harp he felt worthy of her, a gift he had
carried all the way to Heaven to give her on the day he'd died, a thank
you for all she had done to free his spirit, if not his body...
How many countless days had she sat on a cloud in the centuries since,
playing it softly and gazing down at the planet she cared so much for?
A small music box came next, a memento of a Swiss clock maker she had
comforted following the loss of his son. The intricate mechanism played
nearly a minute of the Moonlight Sonata on tiny chimes. Then came a
necklace of polished glass beads with a crudely carved figure of an
angel in a crude wooden box. A small scrap of paper inside the box bore
the words "For Heart, my best friend" in a childish eight-year-old
scrawl. Despite the hardships an orphan had to face in Victorian
England, Reggie had never given up that bright spark of hope that let
him face every day with a smile. The day he'd been adopted by a loving
family had been one of the proudest moments of her life...
Then came the small carefully rendered portrait... a memory of one of
her toughest assignments. She remembered Michelangelo De Caravaggio
well: an angry young man who saw only a world of hate and violence. All
of his paintings of people reflected this chaos, but his beautiful still
lifes had been full of bright promise, with apples so real you could
taste the juice, and flowers so bright you could detect their perfumed
scent from the oil and medium. The man had loved nothing but his art,
and in a tortured time, it had been all she could do to keep him
painting, to keep him telling the stories of the Son of God and his
Angels, Saints, and Martyrs.
Still, in the end, he had died young and alone on a beach. Heart had
been there, watching as Abaddoniel's angels had come and taken him,
holding the small portrait of her he had done... Like Demetrius, he had
had the Sight.
She shook her head as she put the master work aside. She'd once
considered her guidance to the angry youth a success. Now it was...
what? A success? A failure? Or just another meaningless chapter in a
pointless existence? Two thousand years of service in the name of Love
and for what? To be told that she didn't know what Love truly was? She
pulled several more items from the bag as she thought: her spare halo, a
jar of polish, some soft polishing cloths...
When she pulled out the long stiff-bristled brush, she could control it
no longer. The tears came unbidden, choking her. She collapsed on the
floor, her tears flowing freely, the weight of all that had been taken
from her crushing her...
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Seraph woke up to an empty bed in a strange room. Noting that that was
nothing unusual, she stretched, basking in the afterglow of the night
before...
Heart!
She sat bolt upright and for a panicked moment couldn't find her angel,
her beautiful Beloved. She felt a tight knot in her stomach — had she
slept through an attack? She checked the bed and the bathroom for
Heart... or worse, the telltale signs of brimstone burns...
...But the faint glistening of silver light by the window, nearly
drowned by the sunlight leaking into the room around the curtain, drew
her attention. She went to investigate.
Heart's halo glowed as bright as it ever had, but the angel herself was
in a dark mood, tears streaming down her rounded cheeks. By her hand was
a large flat brush, apparently dropped in her anguish. Only its long
bristles kept Seraph from mistaking it for a scrub brush. Thinking to
comfort her love, Seraph sat and cradled Heart to her breast, combing
her hair to calm her. "Oh, Beloved, what's wrong?"
Heart's only response was a renewal of heart-wrenching sobs. Seraph
dropped the brush and held the angel tight. "My Heart. What is it?
What's wrong?" she whispered, concern clear in her voice. Tears streamed
down her face. "Beloved, what did I do to upset you so?"
It took Heart a few minutes to catch her breath and calm down enough to
answer. Her voice was a barely audible squeak. "That w-was m-m-my
fuh-fuh-feather brush!"
The terrible realization of what that meant to the wingless angel
combined with the complete absence of any joy in Heart's eyes crushed
Seraph, her emotions spiraling down like the fresh stream of tears on
her face.
They held each other as they cried for the angel's loss, comforting each
other as only the presence of a loved one can. Long moments passed
before the tears quieted and Seraph whispered, "I'm sorry, Beloved... I
didn't know... My beautiful angel..."
"Am I? How can I be an angel anymore, Beloved? I've Fallen..."
Something within Seraph rebelled. "That's not true!" she said intensely.
"They may be able to take your wings and exile you to the Mortal Plane,
but they can't force you to Fall! They can't take what makes you an
angel: Your warmth, the purity of your soul, your compassion, your love!
That's what makes you an angel, Heart, your love! You love, Heart, so
much you even gave your love to a succubus like me." Seraph reached up
to touch Heart's halo. "You are the truest angel of Love I've ever seen,
Beloved. And if showing me how to love isn't an indication, what's
this?" She pulled Heart's halo down in front of her nose. "Or this!" She
held up Heart's harp as the angel straightened her halo. "Or even this!"
She snagged the first thing that came to her hand — a jar. She looked at
it in puzzlement for a second, then opened it and took a whiff. She
closed the lid hurriedly as her eyes watered and tossed it to Heart.
"What IS that?"
Heart couldn't help herself; she giggled. Seraph's vehemence in
defending her had lifted her spirits, having her halo pulled in front of
her nose had made her smile, and the wrinkled face Seraph had given the
jar made her laugh, her nose crinkling as her cheeks gathered in a broad
smile.
"It's Halo Polish," Heart said as she giggled. She took a cloth from the
table and dipped it in the polish, then took her halo off. "All that
nasty psychic residue of evil tarnishes halos and turns them black." She
showed Seraph a few small smudges. "Halos do need to be polished every
so often."
Seraph looked horrified. "Oh, no! I smudged it!"
Heart laughed. "No, silly! Those demons you fought did." She took
Seraph's hand and laid it on the halo. "See? You can't smudge it,
Beloved. You love me." Heart smiled her crinkly grin again. Seraph was
happy to see it. Heart only gave that smile when she was really happy.
But there was one small problem...
"I'm so glad I didn't smudge it, Beloved, but could you please do me a
favor?"
"Anything, Beloved."
"Could you please put your halo back on?" Seraph's voice was so
plaintive that Heart had to laugh as she complied.
"Is that better?"
"Much!" Seraph said as she gave Heart a quick hug. "You look naked
without it."
"Silly! I am naked," Heart giggled.
"Not like that."
Heart understood, and her heart soared. Seraph could make her feel like
an angel, halo or not, but if it made her happy...
Seraph looked at the table. "What's this other stuff?"
Heart took Seraph on a grand tour of the contents of her purse, telling
the stories of each item as she pulled it from the bag. Seraph listened
raptly, her eyes shining with pride as Heart told her about her various
assignments.
Finally, Heart had all her belongings out of the bag and spread out on
the table, two thousand years of gifts and memories.
Seraph hooked a long fingernail into the top of the bag. "Anything else
in here?" she asked as she peeked in the top.
"There shouldn't be..." Heart shrugged as Seraph stuck her arm in up to
the shoulder, her tongue sticking out one side of her mouth in
concentration as she searched the enormous insides of the small purse.
"Hmm... what's this?"
Heart's head snapped up to see what Seraph had pulled from the bag, then
with a bounce and a glad cry she snatched it up.
"My sword!" Heart's face erupted in unabashed joy as she held up the
elegant weapon.
From tip to pommel, it was just over five feet long. The blade was an
elongated leaf shape, broad at the head, then tapering to a narrow
middle and flaring out again right above its base. Circular blades
formed blade breakers on either side of the flare, their outer edges
sharpened. Faint traceries of blue light danced along the mirror-bright
cutting edges. The flats were dead black in contrast to the polished
edges, almost seeming to draw the light in. The blade was set into a
rounded cone-shaped hilt piece, from which sprang a finely-crafted
crosspiece carved into the shape of silver angel wings. A large sapphire
graced either side of the golden hilt guard, of a blue so deep it seemed
the gems had no bottom. A spiral of twisted copper descended from the
cross guard to a second ring of gold supporting a golden circle like a
halo. The hilt that sprang from the ring was an elegant hardwood carved
into a graceful repeat of the blade's curves. A heavy gold pommel
crowned the hilt, its edges carved into a design of an Egyptian papyrus
flower. From the center of the pommel a spire rose to a carved crystal
heart that glowed crimson from an inner light that shone as brightly as
Heart's joy.
"I still have my sword!" Heart whispered, her eyes behind her rose
glasses shining.
"See, Beloved?" Seraph said brightly. "They can kick an angel out of
Heaven, but they can't steal your birthright." She rose to give Heart a
hug.
As she did so, Heart's purse fell over and one last object fell out. The
bundle of papers fell to the floor, trailing the ends of the white
ribbon that bound them. Seraph bent to pick them up.
"My eviction papers," Heart said sourly before Seraph had a chance to
ask.
"What should I do with them?"
"Just—" Heart sighed. "Just throw them away. It's not like I need them
anymore." With finality and resignation, she replaced the sword in the
purse and began putting everything away...
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Lipton sighed and threw the folder on his desk. It was as useless as the
rest. The only real evidence had been dismissed as a hoax... Again.
He looked at the plaster casts the evidence team had made, the ones no
one had taken seriously. Personally, Lipton felt like cheering... maybe.
It was hard to make up his mind on how he should react to real tangible
proof he wasn't insane.
The two larger casts were very plainly the bottom of a pair of
spike-heeled platforms, woman’s size 10. Somehow, they had been driven
through six inches of asphalt to imprint the clay beneath. Overlaying
the soles of the shoes, and descending slightly deeper into the clay,
was a pair of cloven hooves, somewhat smaller than a cow's and somewhat
larger than a goat's. Lipton figured that after she had changed, her
leap up had driven her hooves into the clay. It fit with the witness's
testimony.
The other cast was almost more disturbing. It had had to be cut
carefully from the asphalt, but had emerged nearly perfect. It was a
feminine hand, the fingers slim and graceful, the nails a good five
inches long. The evidence team had almost chucked it, sure someone had
planted a joke, though no one could figure out how. Lipton had caught
them before they had disposed of it and rescued it along with the
others. He stared at it, unsure even he wanted to believe it. The
strength it hinted at was... unsettling. He had debated about tossing
all three himself, but had decided they at least made interesting
paperweights.
He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples. This case made
absolutely no sense! Mrs. L. had been absolutely positive that the tall,
white-haired female had been a demon, but there were only a handful of
female demon types he was aware of, and what she looked like made no
sense. There was only one female demon type he was positive could have
caused the carnage in the alley and made the hand imprint, but there was
no way the witness could have mistaken six arms and a snake's lower body
for batwings...
Lipton shuddered at the memory of his one and only encounter with a
Marilith. The super-fast, six-armed Cusinart had nearly turned him into
stew beef before he could blow her heart out with blessed 12-gauge
slugs. He'd been lucky, but he knew there was no way to mistake a
Marilith for anything else.
Trouble was, the wings and hooves were common to about three of the
other types, but none of them could be classed as fighters. So where did
that leave him? He couldn't even confirm that the girl had been a demon
beyond the witness's testimony. He'd seen the angel well enough, but the
demoness had been fully shape-changed into human. All he had to go on as
to her identity was a license plate that made no sense. SE2 YOU.
Why had the demon saved the angel? Mrs. L. had been positive they had
been in love, but she was a lonely woman OD'd on daytime soaps and baby
boom memories. Not exactly what Lipton would call reliable.
And the angel? Why hadn't she fought? Or just flown away? The only
weapons Mrs. L. had described were the demon's, yet every angel Lipton
had ever seen possessed a sword; why hadn't this one?
His head was pounding as he decided his only option was to check the
plate. Most of the tags he'd ever tried to run on demons before had been
stolen or nonexistent... maybe for once he'd be lucky enough to have one
who was actually registered... Time for a trip to the Pit.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Lilith studied Lipton from her vantage point in a spider's web above the
door to his office, wondering what was going on in the demon hunter's
head. She'd been amused to find out he'd been assigned to the case. The
New York rumor mill had been buzzing for years about how annoyingly
effective Detective Bruce Lipton had been at demon slaying, but Lilith
had never had a reason to look him up before. She'd found the
detective's reaction to the plaster casts curious... Most mortals found
evidence for the existence of supernatural beings like herself either
reassuring, or incredibly unsettling. Lipton seemed almost... resigned?
Most curious.
He'd finally come to some decision and got up to leave. She hurriedly
dropped down as he passed and latched onto his tan trench coat, changing
into a tan moth to better camouflage. This... diversion... was becoming
intriguing...
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Lipton headed down to the sub-basement, home to the super computers that
linked the NYPD precincts and lair of the two super geeks who ran those
computers: Randy Barnes and Barry Davis, the only two people in the
precinct he could be said to be more than working with...
No. Randy and Barry were probably the only people in the precinct he
could legitimately call friends, however loosely. The rest of the
precinct had labeled them "The Three Muskaweirds" since Barnes was
obsessed with aliens, and Davis was convinced everything was a
government conspiracy, from early morning traffic to planes vanishing in
the Triangle. Lipton knew better, but saw no point in trying to convince
them. They used everything as evidence in their favor anyway. At least
they never raised an eyebrow when he had them covertly close a case for
him. He had solved them after all, even if his superiors wouldn't have
approved of his methods, or believed his reasons for using them.
But knowing they'd been solved helped him sleep better at night.
Besides, they all shared a common bond, one shared by all those whose
beliefs included a bright future, the nobility of the human spirit, and
the need to expand their horizons. A belief that merit was rewarded,
that going against the grain when you were right was justified, and
above all, a drive to "know all that is knowable, learn all that is
learnable." That drive had created a generation of people whose
imaginations and vast knowledge let them see the world with a unique
perspective, and given them a need to dream and create, at least in
their own estimation.
In other words, they all watched Star Trek.
So when Davis rose at Lipton's entry, snapped him a salute and said,
"Captain on the bridge!" followed by Barnes, Lipton's only response was
a sour "He was Admiral Kirk for awhile, you know."
The other two looked at each other and rolled their eyes.
"Still worshipping the wannabe, I see," Barnes quipped.
"First gen is so limited for creatures," Davis chimed in. "Not like
DS9."
"How lame can you get? Sisko is no comparison for Picard!" Barnes
parried.
They could go on like this for hours if Lipton let them, but he was here
at least semi-officially. "One word gentlemen..." he interrupted. They
turned expectantly. "Janeway."
Both the tech wizards emitted little tiger growls.
"Oh, Janeway..." Davis said, stretching his tall lanky frame in his
chair. "Many nights I have dreamed of... Janeway."
"That with your left hand or your right?" Barnes smirked.
Davis flicked his pudgy partner off, then addressed the detective. "You
coming to the con this weekend?"
"'Fraid not. I've got a multiple I'm working."
"Ooh? Another weird one?" Barnes cooed.
Lipton nodded.
"Hot damn. Whatcha got for us?"
Lipton handed over the tag number. "Black Corvette. New York tags."
"Seduce you? How cute." Barnes said wryly as Davis turned to his
computer and logged on to the DMV.
"Seduce?" Lipton started. Ahh... of course. S E 2... deuce... you.
"Cute." He echoed. Trouble was, it gave him a clue as to what the
demoness was, but that made no sense. Succubae weren't warriors... they
were sex demons. He'd never run into a single one that could fight worth
a damn.
"Here we go," Davis announced. "Seraph Darkfell, nice name. No alias
listed."
Seraph Darkfell? Another cute pun for fallen angel. Lipton thought with
a sigh. Whoever she is, she has a sense of humor.
Davis handed him the printout of her license while he looked at her
record. "Hmm... couple of hundred minor traffic tickets... but not a
single bench warrant. Let me check her credit records..." He started
typing again as Lipton checked the license.
The face it revealed was stunning, fairly typical for a succubus. The
outfit she must have been wearing had to have been extremely low cut, as
the photo appeared to be a nude, again typical. Only... there was
something different about her he just couldn't place. She just didn't
look like a typical succubus...
"Here we go," Davis said as Seraph's credit records showed up on his
screen. He whistled. "Whoa. I wish I had her credit limit. Quarter mill,
quarter mill, hundred thou, half mill. Shit! Her investment portfolio
alone is worth — uh, make that was worth, thirty mill. Looks like it was
seized and all of her credit's been cancelled. I'd say IRS, probably at
the behest of the CIA. Houses, stocks, property. All gone. Looks like
the car's hers though. Paid in full, cash. '72 Corvette Stingray, custom
order from Detroit. Police Interceptor engine kit, minus tweaks.
Probably had 'em added. Damn thing's a rocket. Original owner... Seraph
Darkfell? I'll be damned... she's aged well for someone over forty."
Lipton nodded. "So most of her assets are gone?"
"Looks like," Barnes said from his console. "This record's a maze. Looks
like she might still have a few assets but it's gonna take a while to
track them down through all the dead ends. Whoever set this up is a
pro."
"Probably CIA. Most likely she's a government agent. This sudden turn in
fortune probably means she's gone renegade and is on the run," Davis
said. He looked at the license again. "No way that is over forty." He
tapped a few more keys, changing screens faster than Lipton could keep
track of. "Yeah, see." He pointed his nose at the screen while still
tapping. "Police records. She's been arrested a shitload of times. Looks
like either no charges filed or charges dropped. Suspected prostitution,
suspected drug use, suspected drug smuggling, lewd and lascivious
behavior... What the fuck?! Suspected bootlegger?" He called up the
file. "1928? " Disbelief colored his voice.
"Must have been her grandmother." Lipton supplied.
"Had to have been, or she's using a cover identity that's been around
awhile." Davis nodded.
"Any of the charges stick?"
Davis scanned further. "Nope. No pictures, prints, or DNA on file
either. They probably made sure of that." No need to ask who they were.
"Same on Interpol." Barnes added. "Lots of arrests, no convictions and
looks like she never even saw the inside of a courtroom. But she's been
all over the world." He gave Lipton a look that said he wasn't buying
the grandmother line. "Most of the places she's been have been hotspots,
just before or just after trouble." His eyes showed he'd come up with
his own explanation for Seraph's long record.
"Want me to put an APB on her?" Davis asked. "I can, but it'll put up a
red flag to the Agency and the IRS that you're looking for her."
Lipton shook his head. "Just dig me up everything you can find on her,
no matter how far away or long ago. This case is so strange you never
know what might be useful."
Both of the geeks' eyes gleamed. Whether long-lived alien transplant, or
government conspiracy agent, it didn't really matter as much as the joy
of the hunt. Lipton nodded to himself as he headed back upstairs. They
had never believed in his "demons" but they were useful nonetheless. If
it existed online, they'd find it.
Unfortunately, the trip had led to more questions, not less...
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Back in his office, Lipton put his feet up on his desk and watched a tan
moth struggling in a spider web above his door for a few seconds before
reaching into the right hand drawer and pulling out his recorder. He
closed his eyes as he activated it and spoke.
"Puzzles, puzzles, puzzles. I have six dead demons in an alley, not that
anyone else believes that, one live one who's proving to be one of the
most confusing demons I've ever run into, and one angel who apparently
needed saving, and if the witness is telling the truth, by the demoness
no less."
"Fact: Something killed six combat demons in a matter of minutes.
"Fact: I saw the angel myself."
Lilith nearly fell out of the web. He had?
"Fact: I saw the supposed demoness with the angel. However I cannot
confirm her status as a demon yet, she looked human, even though she is
extremely tall for a female. However, evidence does suggest she is a
demon, and most likely a succubus."
Lilith was impressed. He was more knowledgeable than she'd given him
credit for.
"Fact: Most succubae are not warriors. They are built for sex, not
combat."
"Fact: Angels and demons do not get along. Encounters between them are
usually fatal for the demon involved."
Lilith smiled mentally. That wasn't really true. The G.O.D. just did its
best to clean up the messes before humans found them, the better to
promote it's "infallible" image.
"These are established facts, or have been previously. So now we are
left with questions this case has raised.
"Question one: Who is Seraph Darkfell? Why did she save the angel, and,
if she is a succubus, where did she learn to fight?"
"Question two: Who is the angel? Why was she there? Why did she become
the target of a party of six demons? And most importantly, why didn't,
or why couldn't she defend herself?"
"Question three: What is the connection between the angel and Seraph
Darkfell? The witness seemed to think they were in love, but that makes
no sense for several reasons. First, they are angel and demon. By all
previous evidence, they should be trying to kill one another. Second,
they are by appearance, both female, and the last I checked,
homosexuality was still classed as a sin. Thirdly, by that reasoning the
angel could not still be an angel if she had committed a sin. Obviously,
there must be another reason, or there are factors involved I've never
heard of."
Lilith was giving the detective a slow once-over. He was definitely
interesting. She wondered how he would react if she seduced him. He was
certainly not like most mortals she'd dealt with before.
Oblivious to the spider's scrutiny, Lipton reached out, picked up the
plaster hand and looked at it as he continued.
"And finally, Question four: Who is behind Miss Darkfell? Until
yesterday, no succubus I've run into has ever had the kind of clout
Seraph had. Credit cards, land investments, stock portfolio, I've never
run into any demon with that kind of background. I've dealt with a few
succubae in High Society, but every one has been a kept woman. None of
them had the kind of bankroll Seraph had. Obviously, someone went
through a lot of trouble to set her up, and just as obviously, pulled it
down. Beyond that, who has kept her out of trouble? Most succubae have
records, it's a natural result of their work, but someone went to a
great deal of trouble to keep Seraph's record clean. Who? The answer
could go a long way to explaining some of the mysteries around this
case. Like motive. What could force a succubus to fight?"
Lilith smiled to herself. She'd had no idea Mephie had invested so much
into Seraph. No wonder he was so upset with her defection.
Lipton was continuing. "Something... or someone?" A thought seemed to
occur to the detective. "Could Seraph be being controlled?" he mused.
He reached into the desk again and brought out a thick manila folder
labeled "Magick Users" and flipped it open. Inside was a thick stack of
8x10s. Lipton looked through the stack slowly, reading the notes he had
written on the backs of each photo. He stopped at one of a
refined-looking Latino which had been crossed out with a red marker.
"Santobal. I'd suspect you, knowing your penchant for 'enslaving'
succubae and for murdering angels, but somehow, I just don't see you
surviving that 12-gauge slug I put through your brain." He chuckled as
he scanned through the rest. As he dropped the last one, he sighed and
rubbed his eyes. "Not one of you has the power to make a succubus
capable of winning a fight against six combat demons." He tossed the
folder back into the drawer. "Which means I'm either up against a new
mage, or someone else gave her the power."
Lilith chuckled to herself. If he only knew how close he actually is!
Lipton looked up at the clawed hand he held, then shook his head. "Maybe
it has to do with the angel?" he asked to no one in particular. He
clicked off the recorder and rose. As Lilith watched, he bolted the door
to his office and moved to a locked cabinet against the far wall. He
took out a set of keys and opened the cabinet. Lilith gasped in surprise
at what was inside. A lot of would-be mages would kill for the contents
of the cabinet, and if the church had ever seen it, Lipton would have
been excommunicated and burned at the stake on the spot. The majority of
the books were trash, New Age mysticism, but a few of them were real.
Ancient books dealing with Demonology and Black Magick, many written in
Latin... A Hebrew Kabala sat next to Assyrian religious texts and even a
copy the Mahabharata in Sanskrit was on the shelf. It was certainly the
last thing Lilith had expected. She wondered where he had gotten them.
He knelt down to the bottom of the case, removed an iron box, and took
it to his desk. Curious, Lilith crawled across the ceiling to get a
better look. After Lipton sat down, he took out another key and undid a
lock on the iron box, then opened it. As the lid swung open, Lilith was
nearly shocked into dropping her shape change from the holy energies the
book poured forth. The reason for the iron box became easily apparent:
unshielded, the book in the box would have turned the other texts into
smoking ruin.
In appearance it was nothing special. It had a plain thick leather cover
reinforced with thin iron straps, and a simple clasp that held it
closed. The pages were crisp vellum, yellowed with age but otherwise
whole and undamaged. The title was simple, written in elegant gold
script, but Lilith nearly passed out in shock as she read it. At most,
the book looked a hundred years old, but she knew it was over four
thousand, and that the passing of time would not have affected its
accuracy, Jehovah had seen to that. Only fifteen copies were known to
even exist, and Lilith hadn't know of one in New York, yet somehow, the
detective had managed to get a hold of a copy of the only book her first
ex-husband had ever written.
The Directory of Angels.
Lilith nearly panicked. If the Detective could even read the Directory,
it meant he had True Sight! He could see her! Only the fact she was
shape-changed instead of glamoured had kept him from discovering her
already...
Then logic reasserted itself. He hadn't discovered her, and so long as
she didn't shift where he could see her, she was safe. It simply made
for an interesting tidbit. The detective really could see demons and
angels... even glamoured ones... only a shape shift couldn't be seen
through.
It made the notion of seducing him more appealing. Seeing how he dealt
with the Queen of Hell could be... entertaining.
But that was for a later time, for now, she watched as he slowly flipped
through the book, looking at the picture of each angel and reading the
short description. After nearly an hour, at the end of the G's, he lost
patience. "This is hopeless. Without a name, I'll never find her." He
got up and paced the office for a minute than grabbed his long empty mug
of coffee. "Definitely need a caffeine break. Then maybe I'll check out
her apartment." He unlocked the door, and at the verge of heading for
the coffee maker, paused and looked at the book on his desk.
"Hell, it's just for a moment..." He exited, but locked the dead bolt
behind him anyway.
Lilith shimmered into her own form beside the desk. It was time to check
on Bhaalor. She looked down at the Directory one last time.
The breeze from Lipton's departure had flipped several pages over, and
there, staring serenely up from the page, was Heart's face...
Lilith laughed all the way to Hell.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
In many ways, the Pearly Gates Complex was the nexus of Heaven. Through
its myriad of gates and terminals passed all the souls of mortals who
believed in the Christian Savior, and all of Heaven's various agents. On
a good day, over a million souls passed through is massive halls,
refurbished time and again as the Human Race expanded its population.
Looking down on it from his plush fifth floor office, Saint Peter could
recall when he had sat at a table outside the gates with his pen and the
Book of Life. That had been replaced over the centuries with a library
and an army of scribes, and most recently, by the vast Database of Life
and the sprawling bureaucracy of the Department of Immigrations, of
which he was President.
A long way from the simple life of a fisherman.
He sighed and turned from the huge bay window. It had been so much
simpler then, all he'd had to fear was crucifixion. Now? Between the
massive juggernaut of the Department and... his other duties... he'd
welcome another crucifixion as a nice relaxing break from all of his
worries.
Horrible thought for a Saint, he mused as he sat down behind a massive
desk piled high with stacks of paper and documents, all of which needed
his personal attention. He was contemplating setting fire to all of them
when a document caught his eye.
He pulled the papers out of the stack that had partially concealed them,
and confirmed that his eyes hadn't deceived him. They were exile papers.
What in home's name is this? I'm supposed to be apprised of any exiles.
He looked at the bottom of the page where his signature had to go for
any exile to be processed.
His flowing signature sprawled across the signature line. Hmm...
funny... I don't remember signing this.
He flipped through the rest of the form, noting that it had been
processed and the Exile Clerk's paperwork had been completed yesterday
morning. Everything appeared to be in order...
But he definitely didn't remember approving an angel's exile.
He shoved the other papers off his desk, ignoring them as they fluttered
to neat stacks on the floor, until he found his video intercom.
The G.O.D. had frowned at his modernizing the D.O.I., but he'd
succeeding in convincing them of the need, and it made his life much
easier... So few of Heaven's agents really understood modern technology,
which made his clandestine activities easier to conceal. But this time,
it looked like someone had expected that same effect to shield them from
his scrutiny...
The man who answered the vidcom was a distinguished older gentleman, a
few years younger than Peter in appearance. In life, he'd been one of
the few people Peter had come close to hating, despite his master's
teachings. Alive, the man had been almost single-handedly responsible
for corrupting, as far as Peter had seen it, the Christian religion from
the elegant and beautiful teachings of his master, to the bloated
law-ridden tool of the G.O.D. it had become. Saint Paul had been born a
Pharisee, and even after his "conversion" had remained one. His "advice"
helped turned his new faith into as rule-bound a religion as his old
one, and he had never realized he was playing right into the enemy's
hands doing so. Peter had fought him while still alive, but had lacked
the charisma Paul exuded, and Paul had never understood why Peter had
been so angry about the spreading of the faith... But then, Paul had
never actually met Christ while he was alive. Peter had been quick to
change that when he had died.
In two thousand years, they hadn't had much success, and for the most
part, the G.O.D. ignored them. Peter had remained the gatekeeper because
that was the role he'd been given by tradition, and Paul had pretty much
become his vice president, but neither role had any real power or say in
the G.O.D.'s policies.
But occasionally, the G.O.D. made mistakes... and this had all the
earmarks of one.
Peter held up the form to show Paul. "I think you might want to come up
here... Looks like I have a case for you..."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
The girls had showered, with a short break from actual washing for other
activity, then Seraph had had a paper delivered with breakfast. She
pored over it with Heart as they ate, making a list of places to check
out for jobs. Then Seraph availed herself of the modem line while Heart
called and made appointments. The girls finally left the room around
eleven and hopped in the 'vette to make the interviews.
Hours passed and Heart was dizzied by interviews, applications, and
social security numbers. Seraph had tried to explain the concept of the
social security to her when she had run across a request for the number
on her first application, but the explanation made no sense to Heart, so
Seraph had simply given her a number to write into the space, one that
had belonged to one of her alter egos until that morning.
Seraph had given the basic info to a hacker she had "helped" not long
before her retirement, and now the number reflected the personal data
and history of one Harteriel Serafina. It had been a favor returned for
getting him a pair of live-in girlfriends, twin sisters who incidentally
had been living on the street before Seraph had introduced them all.
Now, all three lived in a nice apartment, the girls no longer had to
hook, and the hacker was basically teaching them about computers. Heaven
frowned on the arrangement, but they all three were very happy and the
hacker's desire to take care of his girlfriends had even encouraged him
to take a legitimate job with a computer security company. Hacking the
Social Security card had been the first non-legal job he'd pulled in the
two years since.
Another example, in Seraph's opinion, of Heaven's messed-up morality.
They were happy, law-abiding, productive people now, but condemned to
hell for the "sin" of fornication, because they all couldn't marry each
other.
After several hours of job hunting, they stopped for lunch, the two
sitting dispiritedly in a small cafe downtown.
"We're never going to find human jobs at this rate," Heart sighed.
"No, love, I know we can do it. How many of your interviews said that
they would call you back?"
"None," Heart's beautiful face held an unhappy frown. "They all said I
didn't have enough experience."
Seraph reached into her cleavage and pulled out the list. She looked it
over, her brow wrinkled in thought. Finally, she looked at Heart, an
idea bright in her mind.
"Beloved. I think we're going about this all wrong."
"What do you mean? I'm doing exactly what you told me to, Beloved." She
looked down at her exposed cleavage. "Even though having my shirt pulled
this low is a little uncomfortable."
Seraph blushed as she moved a little in her chair. "I'm sorry, love. I
thought it would help. You can pull it up if you like."
Heart gave her a sidelong look over her glasses. "No. I've noticed you
seem to enjoy looking at me more since I pulled it down."
Seraph blushed even brighter as she wrenched her eyes away from the rise
and fall of Heart's breasts. "Ummm..."
Heart laughed. "I love you... Anyway, what am I doing wrong?"
Seraph fought the urge to let her eyes return to their previous gaze as
she answered. "Well, umm... maybe we should be trying to find jobs where
we do have experience. You were the best matchmaker in Heaven. We should
get you a job doing that here."
"Are there jobs like that on Earth?"
"Of course. Humans thrive on personal contact!" Seraph exclaimed. "I've
met lots of my assignments through matchmaking services. Lots of lonely
people try to meet through matchmakers. Most of them are just looking
for companionship, the sex was just incidental. I've started lots of
affairs that way, and I've seen a lot of relationships that came under
your old office's jurisdiction come from them too."
Heart nodded. "Lonely souls needing someone to love."
"Well, humans have all kinds of ways for meeting one another," Seraph
said. "And I know they have matchmaking services that try to do just
what you used to do, bring two people together who will fall in love,
just like there are places that do the kind of matchmaking I used to do
too..."
Seraph stopped as a thought struck her, then she groaned. "I am such an
idiot. Why am I worried where I'm going to get a job, when I already
have a job just waiting for me to come back and take it."
"You are not an idiot," Heart said firmly.
"Yes, I am. I've been worried about how quickly we've been draining my
bank account, and forgetting where the money in it comes from. I already
have a job. All I have to do is go and tell the manager to put me on the
lineup."
"Oh? What will you be doing?" Heart looked excited. Seraph hoped she
still would be after she told her what the job was.
"Dancing,"
"Oh?" Heart's eyes lit up. "Maybe I can too? I know the minuet, the
waltz, the—"
"It's not that kind of dancing, dear," Seraph interrupted. "I'll be
doing erotic dances."
Heart looked confused. "What does that entail?"
Seraph looked off to the side. "Well, for one thing, a lot less
clothing."
Heart nodded. "How much less?"
"Umm..." Seraph looked down. "I think New York law says I have to keep
my g-string on nowadays."
"You mean you'd be nude?" Heart looked puzzled. "Don't humans forbid
that?"
"Only in public,"
"But if you're dancing for people, won't you be in public?"
"No. It's a club where men come to watch nude women dance."
"Oh... Why?" Heart really did look confused.
Seraph shook her head. "Oh, Beloved, you really are an innocent to the
ways of lust. It's so the men can fantasize about having sex with me,"
she admitted.
"Oh," Heart's face fell. "I see. Well, if you need to do that to feed I
suppose it's okay." Her voice held a note of sadness.
Seraph took Heart's hand. "Beloved. I don't need them to feed. I need
you for that, and only you. You are the one I love, and only you can
satisfy my desires. But men will pay a lot of money just to fantasize
about sex with me, and I never have to actually fulfill that fantasy. I
can dance and arouse their lust without having to do anything else...
except of course to arouse my desire for you even more."
Heart smiled at Seraph's words, but then a thought struck. "But isn't
that demeaning, Beloved?" she asked plaintively.
"No, Beloved. Not for me. I'm a succubus. I was created to arouse lust.
It was my purpose for existing before you taught me how to love. It's
all I've done for over a thousand years." Seraph struggled desperately
for the right words to say. "I took pride in my work, Beloved. That's
part of what you fell in love with, no?" Heart nodded. "I love to dance,
Beloved, and it's always been one of my most effective means for
arousing lust. What's best about it, is that I can make us money doing
something I enjoy." Inspiration hit. "Besides, Beloved, we were both the
best at what we did because we loved our jobs. It doesn't matter that
we're not working for them anymore. We don't have to give up on what we
love doing, what we are best at! Heaven doesn't have a monopoly on
Love!"
Heart still looked uncertain, so Seraph continued. "Heart,
we can keep doing what we're doing right now and spend our immortal
lives unhappy, or we can continue doing what we were meant to do, make
people happy. We can do that better than Heaven or Hell, because we can
give them a love like ours. The love, the passion, the joy, all of it!
All we have to do is keep doing what we love best, our jobs, but for the
people we help, not for our idiot ex-bosses!"
Heart's eyes said she wanted to believe. "Oh, Beloved... I don't know if
I can bear to keep doing my job anymore." Tears trickled down from the
corners of her eyes.
"No Beloved, that's not true! You can do it better!" Seraph tried to
keep her voice encouraging, but she too fought back tears. The sight of
how badly Theliel had undermined Heart's confidence infuriated her, and
it was all she could do not to howl her frustration. If I ever get my
hands on him again... She left the thought unfinished as primal
bloodlust coursed through her body.
"Beloved? Are you okay?" Heart's voice was full of concern.
Seraph shook her head as s few tears escaped across her cheeks. "When I
think about what Theliel must have said to you to hurt you so much, the
horrible thoughts he put into your head..." Her teeth and hands
clenched. "I just want to rip out his heart and eat it raw!"
"Oh, Beloved..."
Seraph looked up, pleading in her eyes behind the anger. "You are an
angel of Love, Heart. Nothing Theliel can say will ever change that
unless you give in to him and give up. If you do that, he'll win. I know
you can do it, love." Her head hung till her bangs overshadowed her
eyes. "Won't you please try?"
"B-but..."
"But nothing, Heart. Theliel didn't make you good at your job. You did."
"Did I, Beloved?" Heart looked at her. "I always thought so, but..."
"Beloved... He isn't the Creator. Only an angel. Like you." Seraph met
her eyes through the rose-tinted lenses. "He couldn't take your love,
your halo, or your sword, so he tried to take your spirit instead. Don't
let him win..."
Heart saw the faith Seraph had in her, and it helped to spark her own.
"I will try, Beloved." She smiled. "That's all I can promise."
Seraph returned her smile. "That's all I could ever ask..."
They gazed at each other for long moments, the cafe ceasing to exist
around them. Activity continued around them, but they took no notice,
lost in a world where no words were needed... were the contentment in
their eyes said all that needed to be said...
Then Heart rose.
"Let's go get you a job, Beloved," she said to the succubus.
"Love? Are you sure?" Seraph rose as well, pulling a wad of cash from
her cleavage and tossing several bills down on the table.
"Of course, Beloved," Heart grinned. "You're right. We should do what
we're good at, and I can definitely attest to how good you are at
arousing lust. If people will pay you to dance for them and arouse their
lust... well... that's our good fortune, although I still don't see how
dancing could get them that aroused."
Seraph smiled. "Let me get you alone tonight, and I'll demonstrate."
Heart smiled indulgently. "Does that mean I might get a full
demonstration?"
Seraph arched an eyebrow. "You mean using my powers on you?"
Heart wrapped an arm around her, and gave her smile full of promises.
"Yes. I love you, Seraph... and you won my heart without them... but I
am curious..."
Seraph gave her a lopsided grin. "I-I just didn't want you to think I
was taking advantage of you..."
Heart stopped at the curb and turned to her smiling mischievously.
"Oh no, dear. I plan to take advantage of you..."
Behind them, the busboy cleaning their table peered in puzzlement at the
eight crescent-shaped holes that pierced the table, perfectly matching
Seraph's nails...
----------------------------------------------------------------------
The buildings were tall enough to block out the sun even though it was
still early afternoon. A stray cat scampered across the alley, not
sparing a glance at the girl who was wading through an ankle deep swamp
of old newspaper. She scanned the piece of paper in her hand and looked
around, trying to match the number to a building. She stepped further
into the shadows, her ankle length trench coat flipping idly as she
walked, apparently so absorbed in her quest that she didn't notice the
mugger creeping up on her until he cocked his nine.
"Reach for the sky, bitch!"
Casually, she took a last drag on her cigarette and nonchalantly turned
around as she reached up. She said not a word.
The thug appraised her for a second, noting the habit-like headdress
that covered most of her long black hair, and the skimpy little silver
bikini she had on under the trench, but what really caught his eye was
the arsenal her spread coat displayed. The shotguns across her back and
the twin cannons at her hips were definitely grown-up toys that would
fetch him a small fortune from the fence he knew who handled that kind
of artillery. Then again, he knew a guy who'd ask no questions about the
girl either, and she'd bring a nice price too.
Fuck it. Be too much trouble to drag her there. Waste the bitch and take
the guns and money. Not like she can use 'em anyways. Stick with plan
A...
"Prepare to say hello to God, baby!" He began to pull the trigger, then
something hot burned into his eye. He had just enough time to realize
she'd thrown her cigarette and fling his arm across his face before he
felt something strike him in the arm with the force of a baseball bat.
His gun flew across the alley as she planted one of her custom-made
blade-heeled boots in his chest and she kicked him nearly thirty feet.
He slammed into a dumpster, denting the side before dropping to the hard
asphalt bruised, but miraculously unbroken. He gasped for breath.
She strode up to him, a sneer on her face, the wickedly curved blades on
her heels chiming with every step.
"I have," she said flippantly. "He's about two thousand years behind on
his child support."
She placed one of those viciously bladed boots on his belly, the needle
sharp tip just resting on his crotch. She pulled one of the small
cannons from her hip and pointed it at his nose. He stared down the
black maw of the barrel.
"Now," she said. "Give me one reason not to kill you. A good one.
Because until now, Matthew Weaver, you've been a scumbag. No real
surprise that you'd off a thirteen-year-old girl, or were you planning
to sell me to that child pornographer friend of yours?" Her harsh laugh
echoed across the alley. "If I thought for a second it would get this
titanium bikini off me, I'd have let you!"
Her eyes full of fury, she leaned closer. "So tell me, Matthew Weaver.
How do you plead?"
The thug seemed mesmerized by the barrel of the gun, his mind barely
registering the fact she'd used his name twice. In desperation, he
closed his eyes and began a prayer he hadn't used since childhood.
"Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is—"
Her backhanded slap rocked his head on his shoulders. "Blessed this,
blessed that... blah, blah, blah. If I had a nickel for every time I've
heard that." She stuck the gun against his forehead. "You're a
hypocrite. First you get yourself in deep, and now you want deliverance?
Did it ever occur to you not to do the bad thing in the first place?
Now, I'll ask you again, Matthew Weaver. How do you plead? Are you a
scumbag? Why shouldn't I just shoot you?"
Fear even stronger than before streaked across his mind as her use of
his name registered.
"H-how do you know my name?" he whispered hoarsely, an ominous feeling
in the pit of his stomach warning him he didn't want to know.
"Matthew, Matthew, Matthew..." She said as she pulled the gun away from
his forehead and leaned on the bent knee, pressing the blade against his
crotch. A warm trickle began to flow down his leg, either blood or
urine. "You've been praying to me since you were six, and you don't know
who I am?"
"No... no way..." he whispered, as if denial would chase away the terror
he felt.
She grabbed him by the collar as she effortlessly lifted him and placed
the gun under his chin.
"Go to church, scumbag. Pray for forgiveness and confess your sins," she
cooed. "Go straight, or I will be back, and have no doubt I'll know
where to find you..."
She smiled as she holstered the pistol and let him slump back against
the dumpster as she turned to sashay off.
"Wh-who are you?" he croaked.
"The Virgin," she called back over her shoulder.
Weaver stared after her, the fear in him doubling at the utter
confidence she exuded. She had no fear of him going for his gun, there
was only the sureness that she was finished here.
"Mother of God," he whispered involuntarily.
Her reply was faint, but her voice echoed in his ears mockingly.
"Exactly..."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Mephistopheles glanced around the apartment, feeling the faintest echo
of remorse. It was dingy, dusty and the little bit of light that came
through the dust-encrusted windows did little to improve its appearance,
but if he knew his best agent, it had not always been so. Yesterday, it
had probably appeared a hundred times as large, and been impeccably
neat, a lavish plush den suitable for lusty debauchery. The old rusted
bed frame had probably been an oaken four post bed, perfect for bedtime
sport. The cracked bathtub had probably been a spa filled with crystal
water that flowed from golden faucets...
No, not clear, he thought. Bubbles... He smiled as he imagined those
fine white breasts, their lush pink nipples bobbing at the waterline,
laced in bubbles... But, time for those thoughts later. He had work to
do.
He began searching the apartment, unceremoniously dumping and
overturning the bed, the dresser, the closet... anything he could find,
looking for clues to where the succubus might have gone to ground. In
the process, the Demon Lord caught an item from his belt on a doorknob
and it fell to the chipped concrete of the floor with a clear chime like
a bell. He reached down and retrieved the silver hoop, tarnished nearly
black, and stroked it fondly, reminiscing...
The entrance door slammed open, startling him into dropping the metal
ring. It rolled across the floor and clattered to a halt against the far
wall.
He looked up at the young girl who'd just entered so dramatically,
taking in the knee-high blue leather boots, the lithe shapely body, the
arsenal. He would have given nearly anything to have a way past that
titanium chastity set she wore, but he never would, and he knew that
trying would be his death. She was pure for a reason he feared as much
as he desired, a reason not even his master Lucifer would cross lightly.
She was the ultimate prize for the Lord of Temptation, the one woman
pure enough to have born the Son of God... the Queen of Heaven... the
Virgin.
"Mary," he said, his voice conveying disgust, but he couldn't hide the
fear and desire he felt for her.
"Well, hello Mephie," she cooed, knowing how much he hated the nickname.
She played with the keyless padlock that sealed her metal halter top.
The small lock swung back and forth with a hypnotic rhythm between her
shapely breasts. "You get manlier every time I see you."
He took a step back. "Don't try to vamp me, Virgin. Yours is one
maidenhood I'd rather not claim," he lied.
Mary sauntered up to him and looked into his eyes with a sultry look.
"But Mephie, you know how much I want you." Her hand casually cupped his
crotch as she purred. "And you know you want me... It's not like my
husband cares..."
The Demon Lord felt his loins starting to betray him, visions of Mary
chained to a bed, nude, begging him to come and give her release playing
across his mind. She was beyond any Angel, any being he had ever
taken... perfection personified... He could almost feel her wings as
they closed around him, forcing him down on her in her hunger... He
could almost feel the ecstasy of plunging himself into her virginal
body...
He pushed her and his fantasy away.
"I said forget it," he growled. "The Creator claimed you, and He would
find out and we'd both pay... The G.O.D. may rule Heaven, but He rules
you. I have no wish to suddenly cease to exist." He crossed his arms.
"Why are you here, anyway?"
Mary laughed, "Why Mephie... I'm crushed. You wouldn't brave
nonexistence for..." She pulled her trench wide and inhaled. "Me?"
Mephistopheles closed his eyes to keep from being driven to an attempt
he was sure to suffer for.
"Just answer the question,"
If only she was serious and not just trying to lead me to my own
destruction... the back of his mind whimpered.
Mary stepped back, the glint in her eye telling him that he may have won
this round, but she was confident of getting him in the end. "I heard an
angel had Fallen, and was captured by a succubus who lived here. I came
to either free her and slay her captors, or kill them all if she had
already been corrupted." She paused and looked around the apartment.
"One may ask why you are here as well. Hoping to soil another angel?"
"I was. However, as you can see, there is no angel here."
The steely gaze she fixed him with left no doubt what she would have
done to him if she had caught him defiling the angel, Demon Lord or not.
"So it seems," she said in an icy voice.
"Now, now Mary, you know the rules. I'm not a valid target. Hell needs a
Lord of Temptation. I'm just doing my job."
The look she gave him would have frosted the Lake of Fire. "Oh, please,"
she snorted. "As if there aren't a hundred other demons lined up to take
your place."
Mephistopheles decided cowardice was the better part of valor and that
leaving the apartment to Mary was a wise idea. "I suppose I should be
going now," he said as he began to fade into teleport.
"You're up to something Mephie. What?" Mary asked, her arms crossed.
"I would stay to chat..." His words faded as he did. "But Bhaalor's..."
His last words were lost as he vanished.
Bhaalors? she thought. As in more than one?
She glanced around the apartment, trying to figure out what
Mephistopheles had been searching for. Her eyes fell on the tarnished
circlet. Her eyes hardened as a corona of silver fire flared around her,
and she strode over to pick it up.
It was, or rather, had been, a silver halo.
Her corona flared even brighter as she hissed, "You fuckers will pay for
defiling an angel." She clutched the circlet tightly.
Suddenly, the apartment was filled with the roar of an inferno. Mary
leaped to a standing position, her free hand drawing forth the Desert
Eagle from her hip holster. The smell of brimstone was heavy in the air
as six demons appeared, armed to the teeth. With a start, Mary realized
what Mephistopheles had meant.
"Well, well. Bhaalor's minions. How sweet. A welcoming committee for
little old me?"
"Ah shit! It's the Iron Virgin!" one of the demons exclaimed.
"No matter!" the leader yelled. "There's only one of her and six of us!"
He gulped as Mary's pistol spoke and one of his subordinates' head
exploded. "Umm... make that five of us."
"Blessed bullets," Mary announced. "I've noticed your kind has an
extreme allergy to them."
"You don't scare me, bitch!" the leader called, then looked at his
subordinates. "Get her!"
As they lunged for her, Mary leaped up and grabbed onto the chandelier,
releasing a spray of gunfire into the demons below. She hit another one
dead between the eyes, and grazed the arm of a third, the halo dangling
from her wrist like an oversized bangle. She got off another round, but
missed as the chandelier gave and she fell towards the waiting maws of
the demons...
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Lipton checked the address, then he checked it again, then a third time.
"This can't be right," he muttered. "I've seen nicer crack houses."
But the numbers matched and there was nowhere else on the corner it
could be. The building looked like a converted warehouse, fairly common
in New York, and in typical New York contrast, it was just off a street
full of high-rent high-rises. He supposed that in the dark, the fact
that the block was deserted of all but derelicts might not be
noticeable. A succubus could drain a man to a dry husk back here and the
body would never be found.
He unpacked the twelve-gauge from his trunk to be on the safe side,
double-checking to make sure the symbol laden slugs were still loaded.
Blessed ammo, like all his guns, custom made for him by a friend who was
a young priest and warded against evil with everything the Jesuit could
dig out of the Catholic texts on exorcism. Never hurt to be cautious. He
tucked a box of the slugs into his trench as well.
He kicked open the door, checking the hall beyond for demonic ambushers.
When none made an appearance, he stepped inside. The hallway extended to
a freight elevator, the doors to several apartments leading off. He
tried the elevator, the noiseless ascension surprising him. The eerie
silence of the building would have convinced him the place was deserted,
but the sounds of gunfire upon his arrival at the top floor let him know
otherwise.
He made his way cautiously across the high ceilinged area around the
elevator over to the door through which the sounds had issued,
completely unsurprised it was the succubus's apartment. He peered in the
doorway, shotgun ready, then stepped into the room, his jaw slack and
his eyes wide.
Three demons had gathered around a figure of feminine proportions. Two
of them held the girl pinned while the third seemed to be tugging and
slashing at the metal bikini bottoms the girl wore. His talons were
leaving no mark on the metal, and even though his claws were making
small scratches, they barely marked the girl either.
Suddenly, the faint silver nimbus around her flared. Her foot lashed out
with a kick that buried the bladed heel of her boot into the crotch of
the demon trying to remove her bottoms. The force of the kick viciously
ripped the blade back out as the demon was flung across the room. He
howled in fury and pain as she brought her arms together and slammed the
others' heads together. They fell back, dazed. In a whirl, she retrieved
her Desert Eagle and rolled to her feet, allowing Lipton his first
really good look at her. He nearly fainted in shock. He wasn't given to
being easily impressed, but she was an awe-inspiring sight.
Silver fire burned around her like a candle flame flickering in a gale,
illuminating the dark hair which flew about under the blue veil that
covered the back of her head. Above the veil, an ornate golden halo
crowned her, nearly blinding in its brilliance, the rays of light
streaming from it illuminating the demons starkly. Her body was lithe
and voluptuous, athletically formed and covered only by the minimal
metal halter top and bikini. She had an ornate crowned dagger strapped
to her right calf. Twin holsters on her hips held the Desert Eagles,
while a pair of nines rested in the shoulder rig. Over her groin, and on
both breast plates, was a symbol Lipton had seen many times, the two
Greek letters Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. Her face was
young; Lipton would normally have estimated her to be only about
thirteen, but he knew she was much older, and none of the thousands of
pictures he had ever seen of her came close to the reality. And he
doubted that anyone would ever have envisioned her with the bloodlust he
saw in her eyes.
She fired a shot at the demon whose crotch she'd mutilated, his head
exploding into so many bloody chunks, then she kicked at the one
charging her from the left. He flew back, his face bleeding from where
her heel had caught him, and she drew a bead on him. The third stepped
quietly behind her, ruddy flames flickering along the blade he swung to
decapitate her.
Lipton's shotgun kicked in his hand a second after the girl had fired,
her bullet caving in her target's face. She whirled to see the last
demon's corpse collapsing, most of his upper torso gone from the twin
twelve-gauge slugs. She looked at Lipton, her eyes blazing. "I had him
covered!"
"Sure," Lipton said sarcastically. "I noticed."
For a second, the silver aura flared, tracing the pattern of glorious
wings. It faded as she holstered the pistol with a huff, her halo fading
to a simple gold circlet of light. "What the fuck do you know anyway?
You're just a stupid cop," she muttered.
"Well, I can see we're just a two-thousand-year-old bitch, aren't we?"
Lipton responded angrily. "One wonders how you ever got the reputation
for being merciful or forgiving."
"Excuse me?" She'd frozen in surprise and was staring at him. "You know
who I am?"
"Lady, I've seen a lot of pictures of you. None of them did you
justice." He looked her up and down appraisingly. "Sure as hell none of
them ever captured this side of you."
"Artists have their visions. I'm under no obligation to live up to
them." She cocked her hands on her hips and looked at him saucily.
"Still, I think Michelangelo captured me best."
"What, a mother mourning her son?"
"No. A girl never allowed to blossom into womanhood." She plucked at the
metal bikini. "My husband played a rather nasty trick on me."
Lipton gave her the eye. "I have bolt cutters in the car."
Mary laughed. "I think I like you, Detective Lipton. Not many people
with the Sight actually treat me like a person. It's refreshing. But I'm
afraid bolt cutters won't work. Believe me, I've tried everything. Do
you have any idea how frustrating it is being forever a
hormonally-overloaded thirteen-year-old when you can't even get yourself
off?"
"Umm... well, I suppose that could account for the psychotic look in
your eyes a few moments ago,"
Mary gave voice to a full throated laugh. "No, Lipton. That's from two
thousand years of devout Catholics whining at me to do something for
them. After a thousand years of that, I got very fed up." She smiled
coquettishly. "You don't think that's unwomanly of me, do you?"
Lipton grinned. "Not at all." He gave her another look. "In fact, I'd
have to say I'd probably be the same way in your shoes." He looked at
the wicked blades on Mary's boots again. "Not that I'd ever fit in your
shoes, that is."
Mary sat down on a dusty easy chair, displaying herself to good
advantage. "So tell me, Detective. What brings you here?" Her voice was
sultry.
Lipton swallowed hard. "Umm... I came to search the place."
Mary gave him a half lidded gaze. "So... why don't you?" Her voice left
no doubt that she included herself in things to be searched. She toyed
with an oversized hoop of tarnished silver around her wrist.
Lipton backed up a step. "Um... actually, I can come back. Why don't we
go for a slice of pizza, and you can tell me why the Madonna is in a
succubus's lair."
She gave a disappointed pout. "Ok... Pizza and an explanation... but
only if you tell me how you knew a succubus lived here." She stood and
sauntered to the door, picking up her trench coat from where the demons
had thrown it. Lipton followed her, bemused by the weirdness of it all.
"Pizza with the Virgin Mary," he muttered. "Won't my Catholic friends be
so impressed..."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
"Are you sure this is the place?" Heart asked, looking up at the gothic
facade of the three story building Seraph had parked in front of. "This
place looks so intimidating, and..." She paused long enough to scrape a
wad of bubblegum from the bottom of her shoe. "...kinda dirty."
"That's just out here, Beloved. It's kept low-key for a reason. It's
much nicer inside." She looked around, noting that at least the exterior
had been kept properly. No garish neon or tasteless ads, just the same
old bronze plaque bearing the name "Dante's."
"Come on," she urged Heart as she headed for the massive double doors,
solid oak slabs bearing a carved impression of an ornate double-ended
trident that looked suspiciously like Seraph's own.
"You said you could definitely get a job here?" Heart asked, following
her timidly.
"Oh, definitely," Seraph said, opening the door for Heart. "I'm the
reason Club Dante exists."
"Okay, if you're sure," Heart said as she entered and stopped.
"You worry too much, Love," Seraph laughed as she stepped around Heart
and vanished through a curtain into the interior, leaving Heart alone in
the antechamber.
Heart took a deep breath, and told herself it was only a room. No matter
that the red lights overhead illuminated stark murals of the River Styx,
or that the curtains of red and yellow streamers over the two doors to
the main room gave the uncanny impression of being walls of flame, or
that the marble floor was inlaid with a copy of the club's logo trident
surrounded by Dante's most famous quote, it was not the Gate to Hell.
It just looked like it.
Heart took an involuntary step back. What she stepped into was not the
exit door as she had been expecting. It was tall, and hard, and it had
its arms crossed sternly. Heart let out a small cry and whirled around.
Facing her, muscles bulging against his tight tee shirt, was a man every
bit as tall as Seraph. His arms were as thick as an average human's
thigh, and his legs were like tree trunks growing from his hips. His
thick beard was trim, neat and as blond as his streaming hair. His face
bore the unmistakable stamp of Nordic ancestry, his square jaw and
strong cheeks giving him a look of stern dignity. His ice blue eyes
gazed down at Heart scoldingly.
"You the owner of the Corvette parked outside?" he demanded, his deep
booming voice carrying a rumbling undertone like distant thunder.
"Umm... no... My friend is," Heart said lamely.
"Well, your 'friend' needs to move it," the big man snapped. "It's
blocking our liquor delivery. We can't have that now, can we?" He cocked
his head to one side and gave her an appraising look, giving Heart the
distinct impression he was stripping her in his mind. "Say. You're a
cutie. You new talent come to try out?"
"Umm... no... My friend is," Heart felt like a broken record.
"You should try out too. The slobs who frequent this place would go
apeshit over a beauty like you. I can see it now—" he unfolded his arms
to size up the marquee in his mind. "Club Dante's very own dancing
angel." He interrupted his daydream to ask her "What's your name again?"
"Heart," Heart said, backing up at the word angel.
"Heart," he smiled. "That fits. You a Dominion or a Virtue?"
"A Virt—" she broke off in shock. "How- how did-"
"You angels are the only ones with those cockamamie halos."
Heart straightened her halo self-consciously.
The big man laughed. "Ah, don't take it personally. I think yours is
kinda cute. And the pink glasses are a nice touch." He stuck out his
hand. "My name's Thor."
Heart shook it lightly. "Like the Norse myth?"
Thor looked amused. "No," he said jovially. "Like Thor Odinson. God of
Thunder."
Heart looked at him pityingly. "The Norse gods are a myth."
"Now who told you that?" Thor still looked amused.
"My... my superiors," Heart said, knowing in retrospect how lame that
sounded.
Thor nodded. "The G.O.D. has gotten pretty good at denying reality over
the centuries. No, young Heart. The Norse Pantheon is no myth, any more
than the Greek or Egyptian. Not many of us live in Asgard these days,
though. Your superiors' tactics of attacking our followers and their
faith is rather effective. I didn't feel like surrendering to their
dictatorship, so here I am. Bouncing in a tittie bar in Manhattan." He
shrugged. "It's a living."
"A-a 'tittie bar'?" Heart looked confused. "But Seraph called it a
'strip club'."
Thor laughed even harder this time. "Poor little angel. You need to get
used to living in this plane. The humans call places like this a tittie
bar, a strip club, a dance joint, even a gentleman's club. It's all the
same place, a bar where women dance naked for money."
"And men pay for that?"
Thor nodded. "Pretty good too. This place is classier than most, so it
attracts the well-to-do set. The girls here can take home five to six
grand a night. Some girls try for years to get a gig here, but the boss
has standards. I'll say this for Miss Darkfell, she may never stop by,
but she makes sure the girls are taken care of." His paused, his brow
wrinkling. "You know, your kind usually comes by here to cause trouble.
I really hope that's not true in your case. I'd really hate to snap that
lovely little neck of yours." He stepped closer, looming over Heart.
She stepped back, alarmed. "M-miss Darkfell?" She stammered. "B-but
that's who I'm here with!" She didn't like the look in his eyes.
"You?" Thor shook his head. "No way." He continued advancing.
Heart stepped back again. She could feel the blowing ribbons against her
back, and the air from the fans was hot and dry. She realized she might
have to do something to keep the huge man from carrying out his threat,
and she reached into her purse, grasping the smooth wood of her sword's
hilt. "You've never even met Seraph Darkfell, have you?"
Thor shrugged. "I doubt you have either, or you wouldn't be claiming to
be her friend."
"That's not true! That's her car outside, and I came in here with her,"
Heart cried. "Why won't you believe me?"
Thor looked uncertain for a minute, then shook his head. "You know, it's
really not like an angel to lie," he said, anger in his voice.
"I'm not lying!"
"You really expect me to believe an angel is going to hang out with a
succubus?" He grinned ferally. "No. I don't think so." He reached for
her.
Heart stepped back, realizing too late that she'd stepped through the
curtain. She drew her sword and held it at the ready, fearfully eyeing
the flickering wall of pseudo-flame...
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Seraph strode purposefully towards one of the bars, her eyes taking in
all the old familiar sights: the large overhead dome painted to look
like the roof of Hell, grinning demon faces glaring down from nooks and
crannies; the plush flame-stitched carpet; the antique iron and glass
tables; the vast three-pronged stage with its brass railing and sturdy
brass poles. She was happy to see so much of her handiwork and planning
had gone unchanged. True, the current manager had replaced the murals on
the walls with mirrors, and all of the couches and chairs with cheap
black leather that didn't match the rest of the decor at all, but it had
been about thirty years since she had last been here. Still, she had
thought Monty had had better taste.
She could remember how much fun she had had setting the place up in the
Twenties, first as a speakeasy, then, after Prohibition, as a
gentlemen's club. It was one of the oldest such clubs in the city,
having had several managers over the years, but only ever one owner:
Seraph Darkfell. She'd built the place with money John Jacob Astor had
left to her following their affair on the Titanic. He'd handed her the
bank draft as he made sure she had a place on one of the lifeboats,
thanking her for a wonderful voyage, and insisting it was a gentlemen's
duty to stay behind and allow as many of the women and children to leave
as possible. She'd waited till he had left and gave her seat to a young
black woman, winging off to try and get the desperate vessel aid.
Unfortunately, she'd gotten lost in the fog...
She'd built the club in a style she thought he would have approved of, a
mix of classical elegance and pure debauchery. The mirrors covered
scenes which would have done her old home proud. She'd kept a low
profile over the years, allowing her managers to have mostly free rein
in running the club. She just checked occasionally to ensure that her
share of the club's payroll made it into her Swiss account. She'd
carefully overlooked the millions of dollars laundered every year by the
syndicate she'd chosen to protect the place. They maintained a low
profile as well and made sure no one tried to muscle in on her
ownership. It had been a mutually profitable arrangement and in all the
years of the club's existence, it had never been raided.
She glanced around. A beefy bartender was wiping down the bar, a sour
look on his face. A fat little man with a cigar sat at one of the
tables, counting wads of bills and prepping the tills for the day.
Neither was the man she sought.
The bartender spared her not even a glance when she approached.
"We're closed," he said abruptly as she stepped up to the bar.
"I know. I'm here to see Monty,"
"No Monty here,"
Seraph blinked in surprise. "He's the manager,"
"Look, lady. I don't know what bar you think you're in, but it ain't
this one. Ain't no Monty here." He turned his back on her.
"No. It's the right bar," Seraph said icily. "And when I find the
current manager, you're fired."
The bartender threw a thumb over his shoulder at the fat man. "That's
the manager, sweetheart. Go ahead and try to get me fired. I wish you
the best of luck."
Seraph smirked as she approached the little man. She sat down at the
table and cleared her throat. The little man looked up at her chest and
wolf-whistled.
"Well, you're a tall one. Cute too. You here for a job?"
"Something like that," Seraph replied. "I'm looking for Monty
Scorciano."
"Monty ain't here no more. He retired about eight years ago," he
replied, his eyes never leaving her chest. Seraph smirked again and
inhaled.
"Did you take over for him?"
"Yep,"
"And you are?"
"His nephew, Tony," the man replied, a sudden guarded look coming to his
eyes.
"Ah," Seraph said in sudden recognition. She remembered Tony, a chubby
child in the early Sixties who'd had a bad habit of grabbing the
dancer's breasts. He'd grown up into an obese man with the same beady
eyes and the same bad taste in clothes. She wondered if he still grabbed
the dancer's breasts.
"Look, if he owes you money or something..." Tony began.
"No, he's been paying me just fine," Seraph replied with a wicked grin.
"Surely he must have told you I would be back eventually to check on
things?" she asked sweetly.
Tony's eyes widened. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded.
"Don't you remember me, Tony? I used to sneak you candy bars backstage,"
her voice held a teasing lilt.
"No way. You'd be geriatric by now."
"I age well," Seraph said coldly.
Tony's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Yeah? Prove it," he said, though not
without some reservation.
Seraph rose and motioned Tony to follow as she led the way to the
manager's office. It was done in antiques, and from the dust, had
obviously never been used by Tony. Of course not. Can't see the show
from in here, she thought as she crossed the room to a large painting
behind the oak desk. It showed a scene from Dante's Inferno, where the
narrator had encountered the circle of the sin of lust. Seraph stared at
the painting of the lovers Francesca and Paolo, thinking They were truly
in love, only the G.O.D.'s Code made it a sin... So for love, they were
damned... She shook her head and reached for the concealed latch. The
picture frame swung away to reveal the wall safe. She spun the dial and
opened it with a smile. Inside were several stacks of bills, over a
quarter of a century old.
"Oh, cool. Extra cash," Seraph exclaimed.
"That safe is the property of this bar," Tony said uncertainly.
"I know," Seraph replied. "And—" She reached into her bosom and pulled
out a key. She picked up the large iron box in the back of the safe and
plopped it down on the ink blotter on the desk. Tony came over and
looked on in interest as she used the key on the box.
Inside the box was a treasure trove of antiques: old photographs,
newspaper clippings, and a thick file folder of paperwork. Seraph spread
it all on the desk.
Tony Scorciano looked at the pile of pictures and newspaper clippings
before him, his eyes wide and his jaw gaping. Here was a picture of
Seraph, opening night, 1920. There was a picture of her on stage in the
Fifties' idea of sexy lingerie, teasingly pulling off an elbow-length
glove. And here was a picture of her and her crew, a young Monty
Scorciano looking proud in a new tux...
"Wow... You did age well," he whispered.
Seraph smirked. "Told ya,"
A small stifled cry from outside the office brought both owner and
manager running out to see what was wrong. Seraph put her hand over her
mouth as Heart faced off, in a fighting stance, an invisible threat on
the other side of the curtain. Her sword was drawn and gleaming.
Then the bulldozer piled through the curtain...
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Heart looked up at Thor, eyes wide, and tried not to panic. Something
about the man made her far less certain of winning this fight than any
demon she'd ever faced. Thor halted his advance when he saw her sword,
but he grinned rather ominously. From his belt, he produced a massive
iron hammer, its head fully as large as Heart's own. Small arcs of
electricity played over its surface as his eyes danced gleefully.
"It's really too bad your bosses won't let you believe in other
pantheons," he said to Heart. "Or perhaps you'd know I'm also a God of
War."
"Hell has a Horseman for that," Heart responded curtly.
"Yeah, I know. Ares got fed up with fighting them after Constantine
decreed everyone in the Holy Roman Empire had to become Christian or
die, so he joined Hades in Hell." Thor shrugged. "They offered me the
job, but I hate horses." He twirled the hammer between his fingers. "But
that doesn't mean I'm not always looking for a good fight."
"Who the hell is that guy?" Seraph demanded of Tony as they watched the
exchange.
"Thor? He's the bouncer."
"Thor? As in Thor Odinson? The bouncer?"
Tony shrugged, gazing at the item in Heart's hand incredulously. "Yeah.
Best one we ever had, even if he is obsessed with using a hammer. She
ain't gonna scare him off with that nail file."
"Yeah," Seraph replied. "So good he's threatening my girlfriend." She
straightened her skirt and stalked across the floor, allowing her shape
shift to lapse. She marched up to the two glaring opponents, tail
lashing.
"Excuse me!" she announced loudly to Thor. "But would you mind telling
me why it is you were about to try and hurt my girlfriend?"
Thor glanced at her irritatedly, then did a double take as his jaw
dropped.
"This... this is...?"
"Uh-huh," Seraph nodded.
"But she's... but she's—" He pointed dumbly at Heart's halo.
"I know what she is, Mr. Odinson. And what a shock that must be. But I
would appreciate it if you would stop threatening her. Immediately,"
Seraph said menacingly.
Her tone overcoming his shock, Thor demanded. "Yeah, well who the hell
are you to be telling me what to do?"
Tony stepped up. "Thor, I'd like you to meet Miss Darkfell, the owner of
Club Dante."
Thor gave Seraph a look-over, from wingtips to hooves. "I should have
guessed." He turned to Heart. "My apologies, Miss Heart. Like I said,
it's not like you types to lie. I hope there's no hard feelings, it's
just business." He replaced his hammer and scratched his head as he
looked at Seraph. "She's your what?"
Heart beamed as she latched onto Seraph's arm and held it.
"Girlfriend," Seraph repeated firmly.
Thor looked from one to the other, then shook his head. "Never would
have figured." He stuck out his hand. "My apologies to you too, Miss
Seraph. Just trying to keep the Club safe."
Tony looked at the diminutive form of Heart. "From her?"
Thor gave Tony the evil eye. "Yeah, from her. She's more than you'd
think, Tony. I ain't a hundred percent sure I'd have succeeded in taking
her. Ninety nine maybe, but not a hundred." He looked back at Seraph,
still holding out his hand. "Or you either."
Seraph finally took Thor's hand. "Well... umm... I suppose I'll consider
that flattery."
Thor grinned. "Naw. If I was flattering you, I'd say you could take
Sif." He laughed and turned to exit. Heart watched him vanish through
the curtain again before dropping her sword into her purse and turning
to Seraph.
"Wow, what a big mean guy."
"Beloved, whatever started that?" Seraph asked, looking at the ceiling,
afraid of the answer.
"Umm. Well, he thought I must be here to cause trouble because...
well..." She looked up at her halo.
Seraph sighed. "That's what I was afraid of. Well... at least he knows
the truth now."
"So... let me get this straight..." Tony said looking eagerly at the two
girls. "You two are lesbians?"
Heart only looked puzzled, but Seraph said, "Yes. Passionately."
Tony rubbed his hands together. "Well... that could be interesting. A
lesbian dance act! The two of you up there, dancing together. The men
wanting both of you... 'cuz everyone knows all men want two women at
once..."
"Umm... I don't dance sir. At least... not like that," Heart said
demurely.
"Oh, come on." Tony cajoled. "It's not that hard after the first few
times. At least, that's what the girls say..."
"No sir, thank you," Heart looked a little uncomfortable.
"But it's good money..."
Seraph's hand gripped Tony's shoulder and bones creaked. "She doesn't
dance."
Tony gasped in pain and cried, "Ok, ok... She doesn't dance!" He looked
relieved as Seraph's hand released.
"Of course—" Seraph added. "—I do."
"Of course."
"Starting tomorrow."
"Yes, of course."
"You saw the deed?"
"No, but I don't have to. Uncle Monty told me you'd be the only one with
a key to that lockbox, and would know the combination to the safe. Don't
worry, Miss Darkfell, he told me to treat you like you was the Don,
himself."
"I'm flattered, but just now, I need a place to work. I'm just here to
dance."
"You..." Tony stopped. "You just wanna dance?" He looked around. "You're
not here to take the place back over?"
Seraph laughed. "Why do you think I hired your uncle in the first
place?" she asked. "The business end of the club bores me to tears,
Tony. No, I'll check things out of course, but so long as you've been
doing a good job of managing, you can keep it." She looked around. "But
some of this decor has got to go." She looked back at Tony. "I will not
dance in a tacky club."
Tony looked mildly offended, but only nodded.
"Umm... Excuse me," a rather despondent voice interrupted.
Seraph and Tony turned to see the bartender, who was looking down at his
feet.
"What's up, Guido?" Tony asked.
"Well... I guess I need to tender my resignation," he said sourly.
"What?" Tony looked shocked.
"Miss Darkfell said I was fired. I figure I'll save her the trouble.
Besides, it'll look better when I'm looking for a new job."
Tony looked at Seraph, but it was the big-eyed gaze Heart gave her that
made her swallow.
"Beloved?" Heart asked.
Seraph looked down at her hooves. "You're not fired. You didn't know who
I was. I for-for-for—" She strangled on the word.
"You're forgiven, for whatever it was," Heart finished for her, poking
her head from under Seraph's arm. Seraph nodded fiercely.
Guido looked at the pair of them for a minute, then shrugged. "Thanks,
boss." He turned and went back to the bar.
"You're so wonderful, Beloved," Heart said, beaming.
Tony had raised an eyebrow at the exchange, but kept silent. Seraph
blushed at the praise.
Heart was looking around at the club. "So this is a strip joint? Aren't
the mirrors kinda tacky?"
Seraph sighed. "It used to have murals, Love." She turned to Tony.
"Please tell me whoever had those awful mirrors put up didn't paint over
the walls?"
Tony looked defensive. "No... I just had them mounted over so the
customers could see the dancers better."
"No... You mean so that no matter where you looked you could see them.
Please don't try to hide the fact you like looking at the girls, Tony...
I like the fact you like looking at the girls... it means you'll make
sure the girls that work here are worth looking at. But the mirrors have
to go. I had to go through Hell to get Waterhouse to paint those murals,
and had to delay the grand opening a year while he painted them." She
looked down at Heart. "They had better not be too damaged. You have no
idea how hard it was to get the pictures he worked from. Charon had to
make me waste a good fifteen plates being a ham, and it took forever to
talk Cerberus into allowing me to enter with the camera. Then, trying to
get everyone organized properly for the orgy was just hell. They all
wanted to make sure I got their best sides and Helen and Paris insisted
that they had to be the centerpiece, which of course started an argument
with Cleopatra and Mark Anthony. I swear... If they hadn't all already
been dead, I'd have killed the lot of them!"
Heart was lost in giggles. Tony was just giving her a look that said,
Oh, god... I work for a madwoman. Seraph rolled her eyes.
"Oh! Never mind... just please get someone in here to remove the
mirrors. Carefully!"
Reassured she was at least functional, Tony nodded. "I'll call my
brother. He's got a business that restores old houses."
"I'm sure. And he'll split the bonus for finding him the job with you.
Tell him I'll triple it if he can get it done by tomorrow night. And
double that if he can get a painter to restore the murals exactly."
Tony blanched.
"Don't worry, Tony. I'll cover the bonus personally, but the restoration
had better be perfect."
Tony nodded. "I'll tell him Miss Darkfell."
"Oh, fer Chrissakes! Call me Seraph."
"Of course, Seraph,"
There was the beginning of respect in Tony's eyes that hadn't been there
before. He'd looked at her as a sex toy, then a nuisance that was going
to cost him his job, then as a sucker to be fleeced, but now he was
beginning to respect her as his boss. Seraph wasn't too worried about
him. Monty wouldn't have placed him as manager if he wasn't a damn sight
more than competent. He might be an obscene, vulgar little man, but he'd
get the job done... and make a profit doing it.
Heart had recovered from her giggling fit. Seraph smiled at her.
"I still have to put away some papers, love, then we're finished here."
"I take it that everything went well?" she asked brightly.
"Well enough. I'm going to start tomorrow night." She looked at Tony.
"Right?"
Tony looked up from the small notepad where he was jotting down Seraph's
orders on his to-do list, not minding in the least that he was
addressing Seraph's oversized breast instead of her face. "Absolutely."
Seraph took Heart's hand and led her to the manager's office.
"Oh! Pictures!" Heart exclaimed on their entry. She plucked them from
the desk and began going through them. Seraph froze, worried. Most of
those were... well... explicit.
"Beloved?" she asked nervously.
Heart didn't notice, too absorbed in looking at the pictures. She'd
examine each one for long moments, then go to the next. The silence grew
longer as Seraph's heart sank.
Finally Heart reached the last photo.
"Beloved?" Seraph whispered.
Heart looked up at her. "Hmmm?"
"I-I—" Seraph couldn't think of anything to say.
"Beloved? Are you okay?" Heart asked worriedly, her face immediately
concerned.
Seraph blinked. "Huh?"
"What's wrong, Love?" Heart asked.
"I-I thought..." She gestured at the pictures.
Sudden understanding hit Heart. "Did you think I would be upset by those
pictures?"
Seraph nodded, looking downcast.
Heart reached up and cupped her face as she drew her down for a kiss.
"Now, why," she asked, "would I be upset at pictures of my Beloved, who
just happens to be a succubus, being herself?" She kissed Seraph again.
"I like looking at you Seraph, and I like looking at pictures of you
too. I was a little worried myself, but now that I've seen them, I can't
be jealous. You look so happy in them. But you know something?"
"What?"
"You don't look anywhere near as happy as you do when you're with me."
She gave Seraph a stunning smile, then reached down to pull one
particular picture out of the pile. "Besides, I kind of like this one.
Can I keep it?" She held the photo out for Seraph to see.
She blushed right down to her hooves. It was a full nude of her in one
of her more athletic poses, in full succubus form — not that many
mortals would have been able to see that — but it was particularly
explicit.
"Ummm..."
Heart kissed her again. "Thank you, Beloved!" She looked at the picture
again and gave Seraph a sidelong look over her glasses. "However, you
will have to demonstrate that particular use for your tail to me
sometime."
Seraph blushed more brightly. "I must be rubbing off on you, Love."
Heart giggled. "Why, love, of course you are. I love you, and as much as
I love you, I also lust for you. And I noticed I'm rubbing off on you
too. I was very proud of you for forgiving Guido like that, even if you
do still have a hard time saying it to anyone but me."
Seraph rolled her eyes. "I can't help that, Love."
Heart smiled. "I know. But you tried."
"Don't rub it in," Seraph grumped, but her face said she was far from
displeased. She sat behind the desk and sorted through the paperwork in
the folder. Heart peered over her shoulder, then reached out to grab one
that caught her eye.
"Wow," she said, looking at the deed. "You own this place?"
"Yeah, why do you think I was ordering Tony to take down the mirrors?"
"I figured you had charmed him or maybe had a history with him or
something," Heart admitted. "I mean... well... You are a succubus, love.
It would be reasonable."
Seraph smiled. "Yeah... but in this case, I actually do own it. I had
this place built back in 1916. It took almost four years to track down
an architect I liked to design it, get the permits, grease palms, and
find craftsmen who met my standards. I wanted something that was mine,
totally mine, from start to finish. I didn't get any help from Mephie,
or any other agencies in Hell. I was given the seed money for the place
by John Jacob Astor, a gentleman I had an affair with when I was on a
vacation. We met on the Titanic and he treated me like a real lady. He
listened to my ideas and respected my opinions and gave me pointers on
how to accomplish what I wanted, then when the ship went down, he gave
me a bank draft in apology for not being able to keep his promise to
help me in person. I decided to keep the club very high class and
upscale because of him. Building the place took another four years, and
when I finally had it finished, Prohibition was in full swing, so I had
to make it a speakeasy at first. That meant dealing with the Mafia."
She leaned back in the chair and pointed to a picture on the wall. "I
took the easy way out and found a local boss, a guy named Vito
Scorciano. He had a knack for managing the books and looking legitimate,
and he stayed low-key. The mob got its cut and a discrete place to
launder money, so long as they kept their profile low. They kept it that
way because Dante's attracted some very high profile clients, and they
knew a good deal when they heard one.
"Then World War I broke out and I was sent overseas by Mephie to
entertain the generals. I sent Vito some acts I found in Paris and
Berlin, and after the war, I hung out in Berlin for awhile, until Hitler
came along and I had to go back to work. After that war, I came back to
the States to find Vito had been killed in a mob war and that his son
Monty had taken over the place. Monty was better at managing than Vito
was, so I hung around for a few years and relaxed. Then Korea started. I
was over there until Vietnam was in full swing and Bhaalor's troops
started making everyone crazy. I came back here just in time for the
whole hippie movement, and... well..." She gazed into Heart's eyes. "You
know the rest."
Heart nodded, eyes shining. "That's when we got assigned to neutralizing
each other and started our duel." She smiled. "Remember Woodstock? The
beginning of the most wonderful time in my life?"
"How could I forget? We had just decided that killing one another was
something neither of us had in us, and we'd decided to settle things by
you trying to prove to me that your virtue was more important than my
vice, and vice versa. We tied that time. Five casual affairs to five
true love matches."
"And those were the five pairs we both hit," Heart reminded.
"How could I forget? They were the ones that made us wonder if we should
even be fighting. We've discussed them how many times these last thirty
years?" Seraph laughed. "And how many more did we both work on since?"
Heart snuggled against Seraph. "I lost count, Love, but the most
important result of it all is our love. And you."
Seraph looked up into her angel's green eyes. "You really think I'm a
wonderful part of your life, Beloved?"
"I'm an angel, Seraph. I can't lie."
"You are so very wonderful though."
"You are!"
"You!"
"No. You!"
"But, Beloved, you forgave me for all those pictures!"
"There was nothing to forgive. Besides, you were the one to save me from
Bhaalors troops, and – " She raised a finger triumphantly. " – Thor!"
"Well... He was threatening you."
"Yes. And you stopped him. That makes you wonderful."
"But what about you?" Seraph asked plaintively.
"I must be wonderful," Heart kissed her neck. "Because, after all, you
love me, no?"
Seraph smiled. "With all my heart, Heart." She let herself get lost in
the tiny angel's embrace for a small eternity.
Finally, Heart looked over to the desk. "Let's get this stuff put away,
Love." She started putting pictures back in the lock box. "I want to get
away from here for now. It'll take me a bit to get used to this place,
and your manager unnerved me a little with the way he was trying to get
me to dance."
"Don't worry about him, love. He'll behave himself around you from now
on. I'll see to it."
"And what did he mean by calling us lesbians?"
Seraph stopped and looked to where Heart was still sorting pictures. She
had asked that so matter-of-factly.
"Um... Beloved? Do you know what a lesbian is?"
Heart looked up. "Yes. It's a mortal slang term for two women who have
sexual relations. But why would that apply to – " She stopped and then
looked down at herself. "Oh. I never thought of that." She blushed.
"I've been an angel so long I'd stopped thinking about the fact that I
prefer feminine form. It's not something angels think about." She sat
down. "I mean, I was female when I was a Mortal, but that was over two
thousand years ago." She looked at Seraph. "Do you think that was why
Theliel was so mad at me for falling in love with you? Just because I
prefer a feminine physical form?"
Seraph put the folder back into the lockbox and closed the lid. She
looked at Heart worriedly.
"That's one thing I never really understood," Heart continued.
"It's such an arbitrary rule and has nothing to do with the concept of
Love. Love is Sacred, and the Soul is Sacred. The physical body is only
a shell. The Soul has no gender beyond that of its own self image, and
Love is above the restrictions of the physical. By all the definitions
of Heaven, the body doesn't matter, and two souls can love one another
regardless of the physical shell, so why does that aspect matter? Why
does the Code condemn it among mortals?"
Seraph had no answer. She shrugged.
Heart sighed. "I've always been bothered by that. Theliel has forced me
several times to break up matches that involved same-gendered couples,
and make new matches that weren't. In a very few of the cases, it
produced a true love match, but in most cases, it didn't and the new
couples were never as happy or as compatible as the ones Theliel had me
break. I always thought I must have failed somehow." She looked up at
Seraph. "But did I? Or did Theliel?"
Seraph stood and put the iron lockbox back in the safe and closed the
picture over it. "I don't know, Love. Do you think our love is unholy?"
She couldn't meet Heart's eyes.
But Heart's immediate response relieved her. "No, Beloved. I know our
love is holy because our love is true. True love can never be unholy,
because it is a gift from the Creator and our own hearts." She stepped
behind Seraph and laid against her back. "He designed us to love, to be
complete only with our soul's mate. Too often, we search for eternity
and never find that one soul which will make us complete, but once we
find them, there is no doubt. You complete me Seraph, make me feel
whole... I could never think our love is anything but meant to be. No,
the problem isn't with us, Beloved. It's with Theliel." She sighed.
"Exactly what his problem is though, I guess we'll never know."
"All the more reason for you to go back to making matches, Love," Seraph
said. "You can finally set things right."
Heart smiled and hugged her tighter. "See? You're being wonderful
again."
Seraph blushed as she turned and returned the hug. "Are you ready to
go?"
Heart stepped up on tiptoe, and still had to pull Seraph's head down for
the long passionate kiss. "Now I am."
They exited to the main room to find Tony waiting. "My brother will have
a crew here tonight at closing to remove the mirrors. We'll have 'em
down by opening tomorrow. He also knows a guy who restores Waterhouses
for the Museum." He checked his notes. "That was the artist you named,
right?"
"Yes. Thank you, Tony. That was fast work." Seraph was impressed. Monty
had trained him well.
"Anything else?" he asked.
Seraph looked at the stage. "Yes. Get someone in to look at the gas
lines. I want to use the jets tomorrow, if I can do so without blowing
the place up."
"The jets?"
She led him over to the stage and showed him the concealed gas jets.
"They put a border of flame around the stage."
Tony looked nervous. "I ain't never seen 'em used,"
"Have them checked. If it's too dangerous as is, get them replaced as
soon as you can."
"Right." He jotted the note down.
Seraph linked hands with Heart and they walked towards the curtains.
Right at the threshold, she paused. "Oh, Tony? One last thing."
"Yes, Miss Seraph?" She winced, but she'd break him of it eventually.
"If you aren't using the office, could you have it cleaned for me?"
"Of course."
They nodded at Thor as they made their way outside to Seraph's Corvette.
As Heart got in, Seraph pulled something out from under the windshield
wiper.
"Damn. Another ticket." She leaned over, opened the glove box, and added
the pink slip of paper to a stack of similar ones over an inch thick.
"Beloved?" Heart asked. "Aren't you supposed to pay those?"
Seraph looked at her and smiled. "I am a demon, Beloved."
Heart laughed as they pulled out and away from the club.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Mephistopheles stormed into the huge main room of his castle, fuming. It
wasn't bad enough Bhaalor wanted his former best agent dead, now Mary
was chasing Seraph too! He had to do something before he lost the
opportunity to teach that bitch angel and that ungrateful whore who the
true Master of Lust was!
He kicked aside one of the lesser succubae decorating the throne room
with her naked form and stomped to his throne. Another succubus lounged
on a pillow at the foot of the throne, on a duplicate of Lilith's place
by Lucifer's. She gave him a raised eyebrow as she shifted, her long
golden hair cascading down across the sheer see-through imitation of an
angel's robe, while golden horns glittered under a silver hoop on a wire
atop her head. He ignored her as he sat down heavily on his throne.
"Faust! Get out here!" he yelled, his head slumping to rest on his hand,
his elbow propped up by the ornate throne's armrest. He stared sullenly
at the many large screen televisions around the room, not seeing the
mindless drivel on most of them. Only the blonde was watching anything
besides soaps, her TV instead set to a documentary on ancient Greece.
Finally, a tall figure wearing a business suit entered the throne room.
He carefully stepped around the various succubae, incubi and lesser lust
demons littering the room, finally stopping in front of the throne.
"You bellowed, oh, Master?" he asked, his voice honeyed condescension.
"Have you found Seraph yet?"
"No. You know this. If I had found her, you would know that, too. Any
other obvious things I can enlighten you on?"
"You do realize I could have you tortured in so many ways, right?" the
Demon Lord asked acidly.
"In which case I simply go to work for someone else. Now which other
Demon Lord would pay the most to learn all of your secrets, hmm?" The
amusement in the man's eyes was obvious.
Mephistopheles sighed. "Find her. Before Bhaalor does. I have a plan to
tempt the angel. I can't do that if she's dead."
The blonde succubus gave him the eye. He ignored it. She was only
Seraph's replacement by default. She frowned and turned back to her TV
in a huff.
Faust gave him a shake of the head. "One hopes this plan will prove
better than the last. This has turned into quite the little fiasco."
"FIND HER!"
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Lipton sat on the pew looking at the statue of Mary and tried hard not
to laugh. The young Jesuit priest finishing midnight mass just wouldn't
have appreciated the joke.
As he waited, he reflected on his conversation with The Virgin, and
debated whether he should tell the priest the woman he was praising as a
paragon of virtue had spent most of the conversation coming on to him
like a succubus in heat. He doubted Al Lorenzo would believe him. He'd
always been particularly prejudiced in that department. He never doubted
Lipton's descriptions of the demons he'd met, but he'd never listen to a
single criticism about the side he served, no matter how many of his
preconceptions Lipton had discovered were wrong.
He watched the young priest drone on and considered the little bit of
new information he had gotten out of Mary, but no matter how he looked
at it, she had just raised new questions. He'd discovered that succubae
worked for Hell's Department of Corruptions, a rather amusing bit of
information, and that the D.O.C. was run by a Demon Lord called
Mephistopheles, a name he was familiar with from the writings of
Christopher Marlowe. But none of this helped him figure out who Seraph
Darkfell really was. All Mary had been willing to tell him was that she
had heard that an angel was being held captive by a succubus.
As for the six demons they had slain in the apartment, Mary had told him
that they had been low-level grunts from Hell's armies, which were
commanded by a Demon Lord named Bhaalor. From the fact that she had told
him they usually came in six-packs, he suspected the six demons in the
alley had been Bhaalor's troops too.
It was interesting information to be sure, but not what he had been
looking for. Most of the rest of the information he had tried to get out
of the Queen of Heaven had been met with a pat reply of "Maybe I'll tell
you later..." For all she had been willing to rant on how much she hated
being whined at by the Church, or how lurid her tales of demon slaying
had been, she'd been rather closed-mouthed about the actual details of
the Otherworld.
Still, he didn't think he'd seen the last of her, and she'd even given
him a gift. The 9mm semi-auto held ten rounds and he had a full dozen
clips, all personally blessed by Mary. It was a comforting weight in his
coat pocket.
The priest finally finished saying mass to the almost empty sanctuary
and stepped down from the pulpit. Lipton waited till the few people who
requested blessings were done, then stepped forward himself.
"Bruce," the young man said as he approached. "Where have you been all
week?"
"Busy, Al. Holidays always cause an upswing in crime. Valentine's Day is
no different."
"Ah," the priest said sadly. "That really is a shame. It is supposed to
be a day of love."
"Yeah, but we both know people aren't always like that." He shrugged.
"Anyway, I got a case."
"Yes? Is there anything I can do to help?" Lorenzo looked around to make
sure no one was observing them, then motioned Lipton back towards the
offices. "Within the bounds of reason, of course. I still can't give you
a copy of the rites of exorcism."
"Actually, this time, I need information of a different sort."
"Oh? What?"
"Does the Church keep records of the activities of particular demons?"
Father Lorenzo stopped and gave Lipton a hard look. "Sometimes."
"I need to know if they've ever documented anything on a succubus by the
name of Seraph Darkfell... and anything you can find on a pair of Demon
Lords named – "
"Don't say them," the priest interrupted. "Not in the Sanctuary." He
motioned Lipton through a door into a small office.
After they had seated themselves, he looked at Lipton. "Bruce... how do
you get yourself involved in these messes? Two Demon Lords?"
Lipton shrugged. "What can I say Al? The case I'm working on seems to
involve the minions of both of them and I'm trying to find out what the
motives might be."
"Which ones?"
"Mephistopheles—"
"The Lord of Temptation and Lust."
"And Bhaalor."
"The Lord of War and Anger." Lorenzo shook his head. "Why am I not
surprised?" he sighed. "Well, I can tell you right off the top of my
head that you don't want to try and go up against either of them
directly. All the charms I could put on any amount of ammo won't even
phase them."
"I'm not looking to fight them, like I said, this involves their
minions."
"May I know what's going on?"
"Yeah. Basically, it seems that an angel fell yesterday, and six of
Bhaalor's troops tried to grab her and rape her."
"An angel?" The priest was horrified. "Are you sure?"
"Yep. I saw her halo."
"What color was it?"
"Silver."
Lorenzo nodded. "That would mean she's a lower-level Angel. Against six
of Bhaalor's minions, she wouldn't have had much chance." He crossed
himself.
"Hmm... interesting detail... I didn't know that. Anyway, these six
demons were interrupted before they could do anything by a new arrival."
"Another angel?"
"No... As best I can figure from the witness's testimony and my own
investigation, it was Seraph Darkfell, the succubus I asked you to
research. She killed the other demons and rescued the angel."
"What!?"
"Yeah. Blew my mind too," Lipton admitted.
Lorenzo looked disturbed. "I don't like it. Why would a succubus save an
angel?" He thought for a second. "I don't know. It's unnatural."
Lipton shook his head. "No, what's unnatural is the witness's story. She
said they were acting like young lovers."
"Blasphemy!" Lorenzo exclaimed. "Never!"
"Hey, I'm only telling you what she said. All I saw was they seemed to
be getting along fine. I saw them getting into a car together and it
didn't look like the angel was protesting."
Lorenzo crossed himself. "Such a thing would be the most unholy of acts.
I can only suspect you must have either seen a demonic agent
masquerading as an angel, or that the angel must be under some evil
enchantment."
"Well I don't know about the enchantment part, but I have it on good
authority that the angel is indeed an angel."
"Whose?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I did tell you."
"Try me."
"The Virgin Mary. I ran into her in the succubus's apartment. She's
hunting her."
Lorenzo stared, then shook his head. "I will never understand you,
Bruce. The Lord has given you the Sight, yet you still reject his faith.
The Holy Madonna would not be hunting succubae, Bruce. She is above such
things."
"Not from what I saw. Matter of fact, I'd say she rather enjoyed killing
demons. She killed five of them before I took out the last one."
Lorenzo held up his hand. "Enough. I know we've been friends since
school, Bruce, but please don't mock the Virgin like that. If for
nothing else but the aid I've given you, show the faith at least a
little respect."
"Okay, okay. I won't say anything else on the subject. But can you get
me any info?"
The priest sighed. "I'll see if the library has anything on Seraph, but
I can't make any promises. The Church records rarely deal with more than
the Lords and their Lieutenants and high level minions."
"Good enough."
"I'll call you if I find anything. And, Bruce?"
"Yes."
"You really should come to confession sometime. It would be good for
your soul."
"Yeah, yeah. I know. You tell me that every time. My answer's still the
same. You really don't want to know what I've seen..."
The Priest looked after him sadly as he exited the office. Such a pity.
"Go with God, my friend."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Lilith lay in Lucifer's bed in the castle and sighed. She'd tired of
Bhaalor rather quickly. There were, after all, only so many times one
could listen to boasts, battle strategies, nefarious plots, and ranting
about incompetent minions before even the Queen of Hell got bored.
Bhaalor was rash, overconfident, and completely reckless with the lives
of his troops, a perfect general for Hell's armies, but he was so...
so... thickheaded. She'd wasted a good hour fucking him only to find out
his big plan for dealing with Seraph was to simply send in more minions
until she was killed.
And the biggest waste was that Lucifer probably wouldn't even notice she
had been unfaithful. Her infidelity games couldn't even get him aroused
anymore. She thought back to the wildly passionate sex they'd once
enjoyed after she'd seduced another person, how he'd enjoyed the signs
of another's spent passion upon her, all lost to her now. He'd not
touched her more than casually for centuries, and now, all his attention
was drawn by the angel and the succubus.
She sighed yet again and rose to look over the balcony, contemplating
how to win back her Lord's passion. Her eyes fell upon the stone set
below the balcony on the bridge, and she thought fondly of her rape by
all the Lords of Hell as she lay bound to that stone, being 'punished'
for Lucifer's rage over some trifle. She'd rekindled his passion for
almost three years with that little display. He'd taken her on the stone
himself, following the last Lord who'd raped her, showing her less mercy
and brutalizing her worse than any of them, as befitted the Master of
Hell.
Now, nothing worked. Men, women, animals, toys, fetishes... nothing
she'd tried interested him anymore. They'd done it all before. No matter
how depraved, or violent, or painful, it just had no effect, and being
an ignored wife was the most painful thing of all...
Inevitably, her thoughts returned to Seraph and Heart, and the
love-making she had witnessed the night before. There had been...
something... special about that. Something she just couldn't put her
finger on about that magical blending of demonic and angelic auras...
With a small inrush of air, she returned to the mortal plane, arriving
in her dimensional pocket just as Seraph and Heart returned from a night
out.
The happy couple was dressed for a play, Seraph in a black satin dress
that clung to the curves of her full bosom, but had no back, the top of
the skirt beginning below the top of the cleft of her derriere. A long
slit dropped down her left leg from mid-hip, revealing sheer black hose
and the stiletto-heeled platforms she wore in human form to maintain her
height. Her long white hair contrasted with the black satin, but it lent
her an elegant look, despite her imposing height.
Heart was in a more business-like outfit that still displayed her
voluptuous form, her white princess-cut top displaying her shapely
cleavage. A short slit revealed the top of her white silk stockings, and
the low-heeled pumps she wore had small gold ribbons that matched her
belt. Her red hair was tied back with a gold bow at the nape of her
neck.
So elegantly opposite, Lilith noted. As different as night and day, yet
to look at them, you can see they compliment each other so well.
The pair entered the room singing and Heart executed a few neat dance
steps as Seraph closed the door, the final twirl leaving her sprawled
gracefully on the bed.
"Oh, Beloved! That was a wonderful play! So romantic!" She sang another
verse of the aria.
Seraph smiled and stretched, letting her shapeshift go and returning to
her true form. The reason for the low-cut back was readily apparent as
she rubbed the base of her tail.
"I wish one day humans would figure out that their chairs are murder on
those of us with tails," she muttered as she stepped to a chair and
swept her skirt out of the way to sit in it backwards. "Yes, it really
was very romantic," she answered Heart. "But I felt sorry for the
Phantom."
Heart sniffed. "Me, too. He was so in love with Christine. Everything he
did, no matter how bad, he did for her. If I'd been assigned to his
case, he would have won Christine's love. She inspired all of the
goodness inside him!"
"Beloved, he was insane."
"Only because he was unloved, Seraph. No one loved him because he was
ugly! It's horrible!" Heart replied. "Christine loved him! You could see
she did, right up until she found out what was under the mask!" Heart
pounded her fist on the bed. "I could have made that love true!"
"But, Beloved, isn't that what she had with Raoul?" Seraph asked,
puzzled.
"No," Heart said shortly. "He was a convenient escape route. An excuse!
She was shallow and vain and gave up her true love because she blinded
herself to her own heart!" Heart shook her head. "It's like that story
about the Hunchback or Beauty and the Beast. Esmeralda blinded herself
to love because Quasimodo was ugly, but Beauty learned to see with her
heart, not her eyes. Because she did, she found her true soulmate, and
happiness beyond her wildest dreams." Heart jumped up and began pacing
the room. "It's like what we were talking about earlier, Beloved. The
soul is what matters, not the package it's wrapped in! The body doesn't
define it!"
"Are you still upset because Tony called us lesbians today?" Seraph
asked concerned. Heart was rarely this agitated.
"No," Heart shook her head. "In a way, I'm glad he did. If he hadn't, I
might not have noticed these things. When I think about all the lovers
who have walked away from their true loves because they couldn't see
beyond the surface, or were ripped away from their true loves because
the Code said they couldn't be in love... of all the times I thought I
was doing it in the name of Love!" She snorted. "And then I get my
evaluation assignment, and I do something no other Angel of Love has
ever done — I showed a demon how to love — and do I even get a pat on
the back? A 'good job Heart'? No. Theliel kicks me out of Heaven for
it!" She stopped in front of Seraph. "I showed you how to love, and I
gave my love to you, because you needed love, and because I needed you.
And for that, Theliel wants to punish me. Is it because you're a
succubus? Or is it because you're a woman?" She whirled and stalked to
the window.
Seraph looked at her, her heart in her eyes.
"I mean, yes, you are a succubus, and by definition, all succubae are
female. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that. You can't change
it, nor do I want you to." She gave Seraph a brilliant smile. "But I
could be male if I chose." She shimmered.
Seraph blinked as Heart changed. Where her beautiful angel had been
stood a broad muscular man whose body could have been sculpted by
Michelangelo. Heart's telltale red hair hung down his back, but where
the soft curves of her full breasts had been was now hard muscle. The
sheer fabric of her tortured dress defined the muscular outline of male
legs and the faint outline of male genitalia.
"Theliel knows this," male-Heart added, her voice crisp and deep. "I was
assigned to stop you by any means I could, to bring you to Heaven's side
if possible, and I thought you would respond to me better as I was, so I
stayed female."
"Um... Beloved?" Seraph interrupted.
"Yes, Beloved?" Heart replied, glancing at a Seraph who was looking
rather pensive.
"Could you please change back? That dress is definitely not cut to your
proportions at the moment,"
"Oh, sorry," Heart said distractedly. She shimmered back to her normally
lovely self. "Anyway, we fell in love—"
"Heart?" Seraph interrupted again.
"Yes, Beloved?"
"Promise me you won't do that again,"
Heart nodded, but had a puzzled look on her face. "Why, beloved?"
Seraph looked down. "You're going to think it's terribly silly."
Heart shook her head. "I'd never think you were silly, beloved."
Seraph gave her a shy smile. "It's just, well, the female you is the
woman I fell in love with. It's what I think of you as. I know you don't
have a true gender, but I'm used to you as a female."
Heart had to laugh. "I like being a female, Seraph. I've been female
most of my existence. It's more comfortable."
"Good. I'm glad. I like you better as a woman."
"That's my point, Seraph," Heart continued. "Theliel knew I could be
either sex, that my gender had no bearing. He could have simply ordered
me to stay male. He didn't have to exile me! I did my job! I admit I
certainly didn't expect to fall in love with you, but that only had
bearing on my assignment inasmuch as it would aid me in winning you to
Heaven's cause." She looked sheepishly at Seraph. "Sorry, Beloved. I was
hoping eventually to convince you to come to Heaven."
Seraph shrugged. "And I was assigned to cause your fall," she said
bitterly. "Which in the end, is exactly what I did, whether I wanted to
anymore or not."
"Beloved! You weren't responsible for Theliel's behavior. I certainly
didn't expect it. I filed a very positive progress report telling him we
were in love and that I believed that love would work a wondrous change
in you—"
"Which it did," Seraph added.
"—and that I thought you would eventually come to Heaven's side, and he
accused me of failing my assignment and betraying Heaven and then he
exiled me!" Heart sighed. "Seraph? Lust, or what I've learned of it,
it's purely physical, right?"
Seraph nodded. "Mostly. There's a lot of complex mental stuff, and
hormones and biological stuff, but most of the feeling is physical." She
smiled. "What you showed me was that while lust may consume the body and
mind, it will fade as the biological imperative is met. Love provides a
catalyst that allows lust's passions to be maintained indefinitely, as
well as providing for needs beyond the purely physical. Lust may be the
lighter fluid, but love is the flame."
Heart did a triumphant little twirl. "Exactly! Love without passion is
cold, remote, no matter how deep or strong. It's only when both fires
are manifested that love reaches its full potential! I did not fail in
my assignment! I was not corrupted! I was completed!" She stopped
suddenly. "Could that be it? Was I not supposed to realize what love
could be?" Her eyes implored Seraph for an answer.
"Beloved, I have no idea."
"I wish I knew," Heart said despondently as she sat back down on the
bed. Seraph looked at her lover in dismay.
"I wish I knew how to cheer you up."
Heart looked up at the succubus through long sensual lashes, her
rose-tinted lenses falling down her nose. "Well..." she purred. "You did
promise to show me something."
"Ah." Seraph brightened. "So I did."
Lilith watched as Seraph rose. That conversation had been very
interesting. She wondered what the succubus was going to do now.
Seraph twisted into a well-placed kick, and the table silently slid to
the wall as she dimmed the lights. Only the chair she had been sitting
in remained. The radio turned itself on and began to search through
channels until it found a piano intro into a song. Seraph smiled.
"Perfect. I like this version so much better than the country one. I'm
glad they made a pop cut."
The music went into a lull as Seraph struck a pose, her wings framing
her in the light.
Is she finally going to show the angel her true powers as a succubus?
Lilith wondered. This should be interesting.
Then, the song began...
For the brief moments of the song, time ceased to exist. For both the
Angel of Love, and the Queen of Hell, there was only the music...
And Seraph...
The song was a simple ballad, the words solely praising a love so
intense it was amazing, and Seraph brought the emotions of the song to a
living breathing life. She started with a twirl that lifted her skirt to
show her calves, the slit wrapping around to show a flash of her garters
and the silky red panties she was wearing, but more than the dance was
the aura Seraph exuded. She had released her abilities to evoke passion
and as she danced, the subtle siren call of desire rose slowly to a
fever pitch. As Seraph slowly removed articles of clothing and revealed
more and more of herself, Lilith felt herself responding. No succubus
she'd ever encountered had had that effect on her, and that was
peripherally; the effect on Heart was even more potent.
As the last of Seraph's clothes fell to the floor, the succubus moved to
the chair and used it as a brace for some of her more erotic moves,
using her tail and wings to teasingly hide, then reveal various part of
her body.
Heart's face flushed with desire as she watched mesmerized.
Lilith fought against her own reactions, wanting to observe Heart's
reactions to Seraph's revelation of her powers, and trying to figure out
why Seraph's powers were so strong. If she could learn to imitate
Seraph's aura, even Lucifer would be rocked by her hot wind. There was
no demand to Seraph's call, no urge for immediate reaction, no push for
a response to the silent wave of passion, yet it was all the more
seductive for it. Without the overwhelming drive towards sex that a
succubus's aura usually invoked, Seraph seemed more alluring, more
desirable. Something lurked behind that call that Lilith had never felt,
something that awoke yearnings within her she had never realized were
there.
As Seraph concluded her dance to stand before her lover unconcealed, the
last word of the song fading slowly, Lilith gasped, her body shuddering.
In amazement, she looked down at her betraying hand, now slick and wet.
She'd climaxed, and worse, she'd been heard.
Seraph whirled. "What was that?"
Heart only had eyes and ears for her lover. "What was what?" she asked.
"I thought I heard someone moan in orgasm."
Heart stood on the bed, bringing herself up to a height level with
Seraph's. "That was me." She took off her glasses and drew Seraph's lips
into a long passionate kiss as she guided the Succubus's hand to the
zipper of her dress. "And now you're going to make me do it some more."
Seraph giggled as Heart was quickly divested of clothing, and the angel
dragged the succubus down on top of her. Lilith sighed in relief, but
could not bring herself to leave yet. She watched as the two made love
again, their auras intertwining once more.
When it was over, Heart raised her head to look into Seraph's eyes, and
smiled at the light that filled them. Lilith marveled at the ecstasy the
succubus's eyes revealed. She had never seen a succubus who had ever
seemed satisfied with a lover. Heart's "I love you" made Seraph stretch,
looking down at the little angel. She reached down and tousled Heart's
hair, mussed from their recent activity.
"I love you too."
Her tone matched the angel's. She moaned softly as Heart decided they
weren't done yet, and as the passions of the pair began rising once
more, Lilith pondered the angel's words...
I love you...
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