The city was already damned.
It had become nothing more than a host, an infestation of demons who served unseen masters from alleys, and now joined by those gathering after following the stench of blood in the wind, curious solitaries hoping to see the carnage unfold and lick the bones clean of what was left.
He followed that bitter smell of blood to the dark places where they hid and hunted, where the carcasses and essence of shadows were left in the wake of demons long dead, killed by one another.
A demon war for territory?
Now that was interesting.
And it was exactly what Uriel hungered for: the thrill and the hunt, a chance to relive battles fought since the dawn of time. Before rules and regulations were created to counter their instincts to slay the soldiers of fallen traitors without hesitation or consideration for the new life Earth had given birth to.
Sent by Gabriel, he arrived earlier in the week to take care of everything before Michael caught a whiff of the situation, and may God—any God—help humanity if their Sovereign were to investigate these unsanctioned slaughters himself.
Unfortunately, he was instructed to find the scout, an angel—Leah, her name was—sent weeks before him to investigate on her own. According to Selaphiel, she was one of the most innovative students he had, as well as a capable warrior, and together, they were to come up with a solution and see that was it carried out efficiently.
But that won’t do.
If Uriel was going to reclaim everything—my rightful place at their side—he needed to handle the situation alone. And one by one, potential ways to escape the aid of another came in small thoughts of little mutinies that would prevent Leah from interfering.
Then, he found her.
The building was a cage of chaos; a thrashing sea of bodies swaying in beat with music pulsing from speakers in the walls, humans on the hunt for sex and drugs—anything close to a good time.
Here, the delicious sound of laughter danced alongside the lustful moans of thrill-seekers who clung to one another in moments of loneliness, filling the air with clouds of cannabis smoke and longing. They stumbled down hallways, wandering dreamily through the cast of odd blue lights that either made the trip better or reality worse. The shivering tempo of bass-heavy songs guiding them onward to nowhere in particular.
Uriel was aware of Beriah’s presence as he made his way through the building like a beacon of fictitious virtue. No doubt dodging tempting too-brief touches and holding back the urge to indulge himself in the company of men and women who waited and searched all night for everything he was.
In a borrowed room with the smell of liquor and sex, Uriel pulled one of his pretty partners into a deep kiss, snaking his tongue into her warm mouth far enough to touch a moan but not enough to frighten—or tempt—her with how far he could’ve gone.
Their companion undid his shirt, kissing trails down his neck and sliding soft hands over countless scars burned into him over centuries. And the boy let out a gasp when Uriel’s hand moved across his back, slipping under his jeans to find the flesh of his ass and pinching it hard enough to tease that hidden hole with finger strokes.
His girl was left uneasy and envious. He tasted her jealousy like cinnamon and sought out her heavy breasts to fondle while she kissed up his jawline. Her lush lips leaving small trails of wet gloss on their journey to find an ear to provoke. The movement brought her chest close enough for Uriel to take in the fragrance of her skin, something candy-sweet, and he bit one of her breasts playfully.
The door opened, but none of them flinched.
“What a pathetic sight,” Beriah said, stepping into the room and allowing the door to shut behind him. “No better than a dog in heat.”
An aesthetic bloom of neon lights touched his smooth ochre skin with a violet hue, forming a shimmer in his dark eyes and bouncing off the armor connected to modern-day clothing. Each ray of light draping different shadows over the angular features of his face.
“You’re going to hurt my feelings, Beriah.” Uriel grinned, happily anticipating the trouble. “Is that any way to speak to a Prince?”
His lovely duo didn’t hear their conversation nor see the stranger standing as an audience, but they kept themselves preoccupied with showering him in kisses and unfastening his pants with agile hands, both lost in their own unspoken needs.
“You are no longer a Prince,” He said, standing straight and attempting to hide the tenseness of his voice. “You are barely even a Seraph now.”
It was always impertinent little assholes like Beriah who got under his skin the most, students seeking approval from the Hierarchy by puffing out their chest and wearing steel-plated badges of courage that somehow led them to believe Uriel was willing to do anything for his redemption and wouldn’t dare harm them in retribution. But they were only half right.
Now irritated, Uriel smiled still, letting his glamour drop to expose his true face—sharpened canines and the ignite of dark-light within his eyes; feathers and fury seeking fear and testing his confident words—then he spoke. “That did hurt.”
Beriah’s composure slipped a little; his heartbeat skipped. “Michael wouldn’t approve of—“
The leer of Uriel's now-glowing eyes forced Beriah’s lips into a line of silence. “I’m sure Michael didn’t send you here to get your tongue ripped out. So why don’t you take the stick out of your ass and tell me what the fuck you want before you lose the ability to do so.”
“Y-You were supposed to report back to the Hierarchy immediately.” He said.
Pleased with the sudden-shiver in his voice, Uriel softened his eyes and tilted his head in a mockingly casual posture. “Is that all? I’m a little busy.”
Taking a deep breath, Beriah asked, “And Leah? You were supposed to find her too.”
The human girl asked Uriel something in a passionate voice, following with another kiss to his temple and a comment made by the human boy who spoke against the skin of his stomach. Words he didn’t hear as Beriah watched him closely.
Uriel kept his expression carefully neutral. “I found her.”
“Where is she?” He asked, seeking answers to settle concerns.
Before he responded, the human boy grabbed Uriel’s face and kissed him long enough to make him smile. He responded by smacking the boy’s ass and wrapping an arm around the human girl’s waist to bring her closer. His true stare returning to Beriah from behind the human boy’s shoulder. “Go. I will meet with you momentarily.”
The angel glared at him.
“You could always find someone to fuck a smile onto your face while you wait.” Uriel grinned without glamour, catching the disgust and anger flashing in Beriah’s eyes.
He wanted to speak, but dared not to and left without a word.
Uriel didn’t watch him leave, instead, he relaxed into the couch with a troubled inhale of smoke-heavy air.
The last thing he needed was Beriah running back to the Hierarchy with news about Leah—or them, and he foolishly hoped to hide the truth long enough to figure things out on his own. It was too soon for any more interferences and he needed a solution, a way to ensure Beriah kept his lips sealed without inflicting pain or drawing blood.
He rubbed his temples and looked up at fairy-lights hanging from the ceiling. “What to do, what to do?”
Both his words and sudden melancholy brought exchanged glances of confusion from his lovely human company, and it was unfortunate—not to mention wasteful—they had to finish before they even started.
Disappointed, Uriel put both humans to sleep on the couch long enough for him to disappear. After slipping on his coat, he kissed their foreheads and stepped out into the low-lit hallway heading for the stairwell.
A snicker escaped him.
It seemed Michael’s distrust was graver than he thought, enough to send sharp-tongued apprentices to vex Uriel into submission. After Abe convinced their Sovereign to give Uriel this chance, he foolishly assumed Michael had lowered his defenses just the slightest. He assumed wrong, and it was a little more than irritating that centuries as an outcast, of obeying and serving endlessly, wasn’t enough to please him.
Outside, he found Beriah and another angel—Orion—waiting for him in the night. The wings of their shadows moving with a breeze that brought the smell of rain.
Uriel’s wings lifted from the shadows of his body, uncurling as if they’d been wrapped around him all along but unseen. They stretched to full width in a display of black feathers, singed and still-burning with flickering embers that fell with every movement, tiny flames that would continue to burn until his wings were useless. And he turned his back to them both, ignoring the urge to tear off the brief expressions of pity that flashed across their faces.
I made my choice. And I’ll make it right.
He took flight with Beriah and Orion following close behind.
They glided low through alleyways soaked in the red light of neon signs advertising temptations and sin. Their shadows passed over the homeless who gathered around a trash fire, leaving behind a shiver that made one or two of them look up in bewilderment. Deeper and darker, Uriel led them into parts of the city where streetlights never burned for more than a few moments, and buildings were left to rot, haunted by some creeping dread that lingered unwelcomely into opened windows and cracked doors. Only the rats were brave enough to wander freely this far into the night, yet they were not of flesh and blood, just slivers of shadow coalescing into the forms of undetailed creatures scurrying about.
And when they touched the ground, they did so without a sound in the middle of an alley that smelled like decay—not human decay, but something worse.
The three of them walked through the darkness that stretched over walls and road, continuing onward for some time before Uriel stopped, prompting the other two to pause a few feet behind him.
Beriah broke the silence. “Uriel?”
Saying nothing, he stepped aside.
Both angels looked towards the dead-end they faced, focusing past the veil of night where several crow-demons with ghost-lit eyes guarded the carcass they’d been picking at.
Uneasily, the demons snapped at the three intruders with beaks carrying fangs, their bodies crouched on legs guarded by wings that looked more like long arms with too many feathers. A creature seemingly born by sewing the limbs of a human onto a large crow’s body, and the sounds that escaped those bloodied beaks were hideous; a caw mixing with dark laughter.
Slowly, the painful wound of reality cut into Beriah and Orion, one that widened their eyes and parted their lips in silent horror when they realized who was beneath those demons: Leah—or what remained of her— laid slumped in the corner of two buildings, contorted like a doll that had fallen from a high shelf.
A once-beautiful face was wide with terror and pain; an eye had been removed, eaten, and the socket left dark, half of her mouth was torn off to expose teeth and gum, and her throat had been slashed open. Parts of her were cleared of flesh and muscle, meat eaten and ripped through to reveal bones that had been snapped open for their marrow-filled insides. Her wings were broken and half-cleared of white feathers smeared with the blood that hadn’t been sucked clean from her body. Everything else looked ripped into and abused, visited by countless predators looking for a bite, and finally ending with these scavenger demons.
“Leah!” Orion’s voice gave into the anger and grief, a cry that flustered the demons into a flurry of black wings and harpy-screams. With the quick thrust of his arm, shards of light cut through the air, piercing into and through each demon, burning and embedding into their bodies like needles. They cried, one dropped dead, and Orion appeared before the rest, grabbing one by the throat and ripping apart another in a gift of organs and blood. Mercilessly, he crushed the crow’s face into the nearest wall, breaking its beak into pieces and smashing in its head until he was pleased.
Leaving Orion to his fury, Beriah stood unmoving and disturbed. “How…?”
“I found her like this,” Uriel said.
Their gazes met, and it wasn’t frustration that burned in Beriah’s eyes, but anger.
“H-How…how could you have not reported this sooner?” His voice rose, creating eddies of wind that lifted the loose ends of his clothes.
"I'm reporting it now." Uriel’s gaze turned to Orion, who finished his small massacre and tossed the broken demon into a pile with its kin.
“Who—what—did this?” He looked at him, fighting to keep his emotions stable.
“Whoever—whatever—it was, attacked her mid-flight,” He looked up as a flash of lightning tore through dark clouds. “They cut her throat and watched her fall."
“And she…couldn’t heal herself in time. She couldn’t get away.” Beriah shivered, no doubt imagining the horror Leah must’ve gone through trying to heal as the darkness closed in on her before tearing her apart.
“These demons,” Breathing deeply, Orion reappeared at their side with blood splattered across his face, staining green eyes with a red trail. “They belong to Sraosha, the Winged Serpent.”
Quickly, Beriah turned to Uriel. “The Gates? They’re here?” Something made his voice tremble—fear, anger, or a chilling mixture of both.
Uriel glanced over to him, keeping his head tilted towards the heavens. “This city belongs to them.”
Beriah’s eyes suddenly darkened, watching him in disbelief and possibly waiting for the punchline of a sick joke. And when none followed, he spoke:
“Does…Michael know?”
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