The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Queen Demoness book 1
18:07 Apr 14 2006
Times Read: 557






















~*Chapter 3*~





House of Maidens



During the night, after Cora had died, Escareliette had been brought immediately to her room. Someone had come in and seen her unconscious on the floor. The angel who had found her when he had come in to check on them ordered firmly that she be taken care of; almost passionately the angel had held her in his arms when he’d screamed for help. Seeing his distress the maidens had obeyed.

Now the whole house of maidens was in an uproar. The high priestess was dead. Never before had that happened, save for the fall of the first angel, whose name they never spoke. They were over a flutter over how it could have happened, what possibly could have affected such a powerful woman so badly as to cause death. They silently knew that some sort of deep evil had somehow penetrated their walls and might be moving amongst them. So they now moved in groups, only allowing the closest of friends together. They knew, even though they never said it aloud, that a middle aged angel by the name of Escareliette was somehow involved. Some believed she had been possessed by an agent of the Devil, a powerful demon perhaps, or had been evil herself all along. But others argued that she had been here too long, demons couldn’t breathe their atmosphere, to even walk into a house of God was painful for a truly iniquity creature of Satan, to come to heaven itself was suicide, besides Escareliette had been too close to the high priestess for too long to not have attempted something earlier. But still they spoke in huddled groups of what would happen to her. But the angel who had found her would make them cower in fear. He was powerful and would quickly quieten them if they spoke ill of Escareliette.

But during all this Escareliette slept, or slept as well as she could. Her mind was always pursued by a mysterious man with long black hair. She saw him being attacked by a giant wolf and when she saw him fall her heart had gone up in her throat. She had come to him in her soul and had reached out for him, but whether he had taken it or not, she wasn’t sure, nothing was clear anymore. She kicked and moaned, restless in her sleep, growing nearly feverish, while someone rubbed a cloth over her head. Occasionally she would mumble in her sleep, a strange name that the tending angle could not pronounce, or wouldn’t utter for her feared its power.

In her dreams someone held her and whispered Romanian in her ear while he explored her body with eager hands. She would tilt her head back; eyes closed as he took her sweet scent in. his long black hair would drift over her chest as he kissed her collar bone down to her breasts. Just when he would take one of her plump mounds in his mouth they would make eye contact and she would see: see the evil burning in his red eyes and hers reflected in their depths. She was part of his desire, she knew.

Then a change would come over him and his canines would grow long and razor tipped, his face would turn black with long golden pierced ears. She would be helpless in his embrace as he opened his mouth and sighed against her neck. Escareliette would whisper, “Now, do it now,” and complying he raised his head then brought his fangs down on her.

In her bed, Escareliette jumped up suddenly and her eyes were wide like a frightened deer. She heard bells and immediately she though, but mass isn’t not. It’s too early.

Instinct made her start to rise, but a hand immediately pushed her back. Confused and annoyed she looked over to see David giving her a kind smile.

David? What was he doing here? Men weren’t allowed in the women’s rooms, it was a strict rule. Angry she tried to push him away but he said,

“No, my high princess, you are not well, you must rest.”

“Rest my ass!” she blurted out then immediately clamped her hand over her mouth. She made the sign of the cross asking for forgiveness, then looked over at David. He had gone slightly white at the sudden out burst, but put it aside as emotional stress from having her best friend’s death. She had been unstable before, without her crutch (Cora) she would surely fall. But he wouldn’t allow it. They couldn’t afford to loose her. Tomorrow he would be there for her for a very long time. He had arranged it with the previous high priestess, too bad she hadn’t been able to tell her before she passed on. No matter, he would do it now, he was here for her.

As he watched her slowly obey and rest her head back on her feather pillow, he sighed at her beauty.

Oh god, he had desired her from the first moment he had laid eyes on her in the council seeing glass, before she was even born. Lust was one of the deadliest sins, but he didn’t care, he wanted her so badly it was nearly a disease. Slowly killing him each day he saw her and could do nothing, but all that would change.

Escareliette watched him out the corner of her eye and saw the way his roamed over her form. She felt like she was some prize this creature wanted to devour. She couldn’t help it, but she felt unsafe. For security she pulled her sheets over her breasts. She was in her silk strapped nightgown; she had been in her day robes earlier hadn’t she? Had he..? Oh god! Her eyes went wide and her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but David merely gave a small smile as held back as he could and said,

“Don’t’ worry priestess; I had someone else change your attire. You needed close care after what happened.”

He said the words slowly, watching her reaction. Would she remember? Slowly, he saw her battle her memories, trying to snatch the thread she needed which held the answers.

What happened?” she asked in a whisper to herself. The last thing she could remember was Cora’s room cloaked in darkness and a voice inside her head saying, “it’s not what it seems.” She wrinkled her brow thinking, and then it dawned upon her like the red sun on a bloody, scarred battle field. Why had she been in Cora’s room at that hour? She put hand to her mouth and mouthing “No,” she felt tears slide down her cheeks.

The memory of her face, how pale she’d looked, and the lack of that sparkle in her eyes filled her mind. How she had held on to the worn, weak hand of her once strong and able bodied friend. The scent of the candles in her room still invaded her senses. Slowly she shook her head and closed her eyes then she heard the church bells. Her eyes snapped open and she flung the covers off her and sat up, no longer caring for modesty. She had to go to it; she had to see to really believe that Cora was gone. The memory was still fresh, it hadn’t sunk in, hadn’t taken root.

David, who had been enraptured in the moment when she had so angrily and passionately thrown the coverlet was stunned. For a moment she had appeared the priestess she was brought here to become. But then she leapt down from the bed and landed on her feet, heading for her dresser. Acting quickly, David closed the drawer she was opening and said,

“You must rest my lady,”

The look she gave him was one of incredulity. Who did he think he was her priest? Her eyes spat venom, but he ignored it and put his hand on her bare shoulder. Her skin went cold and she backed away from him.

“Don’t dare touch me,” she seethed.

David raised an eyebrow, she was feisty. She would make his life interesting. He would have had her long ago if the former high priestess hadn’t watched her like a mother bear with her gifted cub. And Escareliette was gifted, was meant to be. Which was why Lucifer had chosen her for a new breed of monster he wanted to create. For every species there needed to be mates, male and female. A male was easy to obtain, so many were sinners, but females, usually in truth the stronger sex, like the Tyrannosaurus of the ancient times was required to be strong, beautiful to produce beautiful progeny…(David sneered at that) and most of all to be powerfully equipped and smart. Escareliette was all of these things plus more which was why he had the inclination to tell Cora to take her into Heaven. If Escareliette ever discovered the truth he knew there would be Hell to pay, she had enough temper and power already, she could cause storms with the swish of a hand or possibly even move mountains. Which was precisely why she wouldn’t find out the true circumstances for her snatch from life.

“My lady, the service is over, Cora is gone. There is nothing you can do, now come and lie back down. Your illness has rendered your body temporarily incapable of maneuvering itself properly, you may fall.”

“I will not submit to your will angel,” she said with vehemence. She didn’t know why but she felt fierce loathing for this man and a great distrust, and her feeling only added more fuel to the fire.

“Please Escareliette, you’re not yourself. Cora’s passing has made you unwell, please lie down.” Slowly David advanced; he knew full well her potential to lash out at anyone, especially when they were in the way of something she intended to do.

“Not until you tell me what the hell is going on. Why wasn’t I woken to attend my friend’s service and why am I being held prisoner?!” Her voice had risen with each word she’d spoken and her face was beginning to flush. David thought of a way to ride around this hurtle smoothly and by the way her eyes were burning with impatience he knew he’d better think of a solution quickly. Luckily for him he was smarter than he looked.

“As I’ve been trying to explain you were severely traumatized. You were unable to go.”

“Well I’m able to go now and I’m going,” she said the words as a declaration and turning her head to give him one last look of intense dislike she said softly so he would not misinterpret the demon meaning in them, “you had better not try to stop me.” David smiled and nodded to two male angels who’d just entered and so quickly they came on her that by the time she turned back in her direction they were upon her. Her eyes saw them, flashed dangerously, warning them, and dexterously she tried to move past them but each one took one of her arms and reacting instantly Escareliette struggled against them.

She screamed at their roughness in handling her, like she was some spoilt child being beaten into submission. And she screamed at David for allowing this to happen. She kicked and hissed at them like a cat, tried to scratch them but only making herself weaker. She wouldn’t plead, she wasn’t weak, and she wouldn’t allow them the pleasure. Her patience beginning to wane and finally losing it she summoned her anger into her soul and taking them both in her grip, took them up, their faces gone white and threw them into the wall. A resounding crack split the air as their bones snapped from the force. She was smirking to her own surprise as though she’d just given herself a treat. A sound punctured her sense of victory and she turned her head to the noise, she was infuriated to see David clapping and nodding in approval.

Escareliette frowned, what was he smiling at, his eyes were riveted at something in front of her, but she didn’t have time to discover what it was when a whoosh went through the air and with a small thump and sudden burst of pain Escareliette looked down at her chest to see a silver white feathered archer’s arrow protruding from between her breasts. She looked up in stunned disclosure at a tall copper haired gray robed arch angel with a crossbow in his hands, just settling it to a docile position on his shoulder, then as the sleeping draught in the arrowhead took affect she fell to the ground, still as a statue torn to the ground.

The arch angel with the bow came forward and bowed,

“She’s strong my friend, how ever do you expect to tame her? She’s like one of the Devil’s own. Cora was better of letting her burn in Hell.”

David shook his head and chuckled at his friend’s words.

“Ah but you see Michael I like my women like this. They are very rare indeed in Heaven and seldom allowed to stay, but Escareliette…she is wild. My life will with her at my side will not be boring.”

Michael, his crossbow now strapped to his back, between his towering wings by a leather strap diagonal across the chest came closer and descended to his haunches to better study her. “Ah, I can see what thou art means, long thick silky hair,” he made a motion of smoothing a woman’s hair with an evilly knowing look, “full lips, hips and a pretty face to fool the Satan himself. She is…without a doubt the best trophy thoust ever had David, I congratulate you. See how long thou art will live in her company. Don’t come to me if she rips off thou art’s head.” David’s face grew dark with his words.

“She is more than a trophy Michael. She is the only angel I have ever truly loved.” At his declaration Michael sniggered and hadn’t blinked an eyelash when David was standing above him with an Avenger’s sword pivoted beneath his chin, resting against his jugular. Slowly with his hands up in front of him Michael stood up, the gleaning emerald hilted silver blade like a shadow. Diffidently he met David’s eyes, seeing something that unnerved him to his very soul. David’s eyes had become so dark that they were obsidian, no kindness flickered there, only black hate. David was dangerous, always had been beneath that calm exterior, Michael had entered Heaven with him, over 1000 years ago and in that time he, like the other angels in their house had learned to respect and keep clear of his dragon’s temper. One thing was well known; when David wanted something he got it, no matter what…even if he had to kill to get it. “She is the only angel I have ever loved Michael, you’d better watch your step where she and I are concerned, understand.” He tapped Michael’s neck with the blade, making him shiver.

“I understand perfectly well my High Priest.” It nearly choked Michael to say the words but he was given penance as David sheathed the sword in a scabbard that Michael hadn’t been observant enough to notice, it was a gleaming white with glowing emeralds in it. A Priest’s sword. Michael watched as David bent down and gently pulled the arrow from her chest and placing his hand over the wound closed it. David had power that could not be denied. Giving him one last look David picked her up like a mother with a child and carried her gingerly over to the large sprawling four poster canopied bed. The bed he would claim her in, he closed his eyes with a soft sigh of pleasure as he laid her down on its golden covers. Then straightening, his face now softer he beckoned to Michael to trail him outside and like a son to a father Michael followed him through the swirling white curtains to the balcony overlooking the largest part of their part of Heaven and Belfleur Cathedral. The moon cast an eerie glow on its many spires and made David seem all the more imposing as he stood like a tainted idol, his hands on the rail as the wind ruffled his gray feathers.

The lesser sun’s beam blazed through the very clouds down to the naked Earth below. It would soon be dawn, the pink ascending like children’s’ finger paints into the East. Most angels would still be slumbering in their chambers, save the Soul Catchers and the Arch Angels, but some priestesses could be seen going into the cathedral to pray for their sister whom they had so tragically lost.

Michael adjusted his strap of his crossbow and waited, his eyes scanning David’s stiff posture.

“What will thou art do if she ever discovers the truth?” David faced him, his face masked once more by the calm exterior.

“She won’t, I’ll make sure of it,” his eyes took on a warning look which Michael took to its full potential.

“Does thou art truly believe she will allow thou art to bed her? The woman is a vixen she will cheat you.” Thinking to himself David narrowed his eyes.

“I assure you I will be accepted.”

“Even if thou art must force it?”

“Yes,” his eyes became dark again, “if I must.”

Spreading his large white wings Michael lifted from the balcony in large graceful beats, his feathers not making a sound. “Beware of her David, she has evil in her heart, I sense it.” Then he nodded in self agreement and tucking his wings in swooped for the clouds then rose up with a startling quickness and agility.

Staring at the vast expanse of Heaven and seeing his future rise with the sun he smiled, she would be no problem. Today she would be his and nothing would stand in his way, she would not stand in his way. Fixing his eyes on the whispering willows he assured himself of this, then unfurling his gray wings he took off to prepare.



Escareliette slept through most of the day, her thoughts pierced with needles of screaming and telling her things, things that couldn’t be true. She didn’t dream of the dark haired stranger which disappointed her. There was an empty space in her heart with his absence and she cried for him in her sleep, for his voice, for his touch on her body. Her hands would reach out in her subconscious, searching, but he wasn’t there.

David who was watching her struggle with herself ached. He wanted to comfort her, but he didn’t dwell on waking her. Her anger required time to abate. Besides he had to leave to speak with the angel who would be overseeing the ceremony. Soon one of her own sex would be here to explain her oncoming engagement, to get her bathed and to get her ready.

Thinking of her bathing roused some strong urges in him, but his strong will calmed it down, He had to control himself. Control was vital. Too many times had he had to have arrived at mass late after seeing her. It was embarrassing knowing his weakness to her body. Turning his head to the sun which was nearing the line of the clouds and painting a crimson sunset on his face he walked out onto the balcony. It was time for him to have his evening meal so spreading his wings he jumped off and soared into the sky.



Escareliette woke to the last rays of the sunset filtering through her balcony curtains. She heard the bird singing their last woeful ballads in the willows and smiled to see a swallowtail butterfly alight on her rose which was in a Greek vase on her nightstand. A cool breeze blew across her face and eased the heat of her skin. The days in heaven were warm so nearly everyday was spent in a garden or flying about on the pleasant wind. And David would be watching her in the fountain.

Remembering David she immediately tensed and looked around. He had shot her! Well, not with his own hand, but his accomplice had. She was prepared for another much unwanted confrontation, but seeing he wasn’t there she relaxed and sat up in her bed. Her head throbbed with the sudden motion and she winced. Angels rarely felt pain, only if it was inflicted with evil intentions. A shiver of fear traveled her spine and pulling off the covers rose to greet the day.

As she put her feet on the soft mossy floor they felt strangely cold. That was unusual, it was never cold in Heaven. With all these problems upon her now she had no time to dwell on cold floors so she rose wobbly to stand. The arrow had been tinted with a sleeping toxin. Those arrows were only ever used to render demons and spirits unconscious, never another angel. The outrage and betrayal of it was staggering, she would make sure David knew of her opinion of the idea. Taking a few tentative steps she headed for her balcony. She had to see…she had to see if anything had changed.

But when she reached her balcony overlooking the glimmering gardens she saw nothing had changed. Not a blade of grass moved other than the northern wind was taking it. She felt her heart grow heavy and grief well to the surface, but before she could allow herself a tear to be shed she heard a small noise behind her. Turning around with a swish of her nightgown she saw a younger, shorter angel standing, her hands folded demurely over her stomach.

The young angel was struck by surprise at the new High Priestess’s appearance, she was very young, perhaps only a year older, and she was very beautiful. Being respectful she bowed low and smiled as she did so. The High Priestess looked fatigued and grieved which was why she had prepared a meal for her in the hopes it would ease her pain for the loss of a very noble friend.

Escareliette took in the young maiden. She was very becoming. She was not past the age of 14, very young indeed. Her hair was a golden blonde, pale faced creature with small hands and didn’t even reach Escareliette’s breasts. Her eyes were brown and her face was heart shaped and kind but held the essence of becoming easily lead and misused. Liking this she nodded in her own approval. Why did they all bow to her? And what was all this sudden respect? The girl straightened and seemed shy in speaking to her, as though she were the High Priestess herself.

Summoning the little courage she contained the girl spoke,

“It is an honor, High Priestess to serve as one of your ladies in waiting…well not really waiting but to help out. I have prepared a meal for you, it is served on the table, if you will please follow me I will show you.” The girl disappeared behind the curtain and hesitantly Escareliette followed. Many questions were leaping to her tongue like hot flames to Hell's, but she had so many to ask she was afraid it would confuse the girl. So she held her tongue and proceeded with her to a table by her bed. The room was so large that the table looked miniature, but the aromas wafting from the contents of the food were breathtaking.

The table was set with a silk golden cloth. Candlesticks were lit in the center and contiguous with them was a display of decadent delicacies Escareliette herself had not seen. There were roasted birds, fruits, oysters, fish, caviar, pudding and various vegetarian platters. The meat unsettled Escareliette in a deep way, Priestesses weren’t allowed to consume meat, not killing one of God’s creatures was a rule in Heaven. Who would do this to mock her? But, still, eyeing the scrumptious goose she hungered for it, but the thought of it raw and dripping with blood appealed more. It disturbed her, this thought and she quickly shook it off. If she didn’t know any better she’d say she was like Eve, taking a forbidden fruit.

She must have been just staring at the food for five minutes because the girl appeared from the bathing room and seeing her rooted to the spot, her gaze fixed unblinkingly upon the table she made her nervous.

“Is everything to your liking my lady?” Escareliette clenched her fist slightly, what was all of this my lady bull they were getting on with? She ignored it and said,

“Yes, everything is fine.” A look of relief crossed the maiden’s face and she answered,

“Good I’ll prepare your bath whilst you dine then.”

“Prepare my bath?” Escareliette frowned making the girl fidget under her gaze.

“Yes, my lady, you need to be ready.” Now Escareliette was becoming agitated, nails digging into her skin and her teeth begginning to nip the flesh of her cheek. She could feel her anger bubbling to the surface, what were they getting on with? It was starting to pick at her, like black flies, if they didn’t stop she was going to lose it. Trying to not with her murky mind Escareliette just waved her on and went to sit at the table. She pulled out a pearl colored soft chair with a winged back and claws feet and sat down. She felt full of energy now that she had recuperated but her mind and heart were weary.

Thinking she knew at this time Cora would be here, sharing afternoon’s tea. Then they would go out for afternoon mass and take a walk, telling each other their morning. Escareliette felt like a chunk of her soul had been torn out, leaving it to rot. She should be right here, right here with her, telling her it would be alright! She could still see her face, that cold haunted look, it was so clear in her mind, and she had been so frail, so weak and helpless. Escareliette could feel something falling on her face and didn’t realize tears had started trailing down her face, from her moist eyes to her cheeks. She just sat there, silent, staring outside when she trembled and finally just let go of her pride and with a sob put her face in her hands and began to shake. Her own touch was cold to her and it made the pain even worse, her body trembled with shuddering gasp. She knew with a deep sense of loss that no matter how much she cried and bled inside that this darkness would never be lifted. Her world had gone bleak now with the loss of her true and only friend. With her gone where would she turn? Who would she look too?

The girl emerged from the bathing room and was deeply saddened by her new High Priestess’s pitiful heartbreaking muffled sobs that came out of her.

“Oh my lady what’s wrong?” Very quickly Escareliette went rigid, her back tense and when she lifted her head out of her hands there was a red burning rage in her eyes. She stood up, so tall and menacing, her hair seemed electrified and the room went dark with her anger. She shook as she shouted,

“What’s wrong? WHAT’S WRONG?! MY BEST FRIEND IS DEAD! I’M BEING BULLIED INTO SUBMISSION INTO SOMETHING I NEITHER WANT NOR ASKED FOR! I’M BEING SHOT LIKE A BEAST WITH ARROWS! A PRICK OF A MAN WANTS TO SEDUCE ME LIKE A WANTON WHORE! MY FRIEND IS DEAD AND I WILL NEVER SEE HER AGAIN! MY HEART HAS BEEN RIPPED OUT, STOMPED ON AND LEFT TO BLEED! SINCE HER PASSING I WILL ALWAYS BE ALONE IN THIS WRETCHED PLACE!” Escareliette’s voice began to shake and the filled tears filled her eyes and spilled over, “MY FRIEND WILL NEVER AGAIN SEE THE SUN! THE MOON! NEVER AGAIN WALK UP BELFLUER’S STEPS! AND NEVER, NEVER HELP ME SURVIVE AND NEVER SPEAK TO ME OR COMFORT ME AGAIN AND YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO ASK ME! ME! OF ALL BLOODY PEOPLE WHAT IS WRONG! DAMN YOU, YOU CHILD!” The girl was stunned and feebly tried to say,

“B-but my lady.”

“OH PISS OFF WITH THE MY LADY BULLSHIT! I AM NOT A LADY, NEVER WILL BE! CORA WAS A LADY AND NOW QILL NEVER HAVE THAT TITLE AGAIN!” Escareliette had never felt so guilty yet so good at the same time. Venting out her rage like that had relieved some of the tension that had been mounting for hours since Cora… No she wouldn’t think of it, it would only cause her grief, grief she didn’t need now. Suddenly she felt tired and when she saw the girl shaking knew that it had been unfair and dishonorable to her to have blamed her like that. It wasn’t her she was mad at. She sat back down and sighed, weary from her own frustration. “I’m sorry…it’s just…I’m having…a difficult time.” The girl regained a small smile.

“I know. All of us are shocked, you have a right, she was like a mother to you.” Escareliette shook her head.

“No, it wasn’t my right. Anger is an emotion never to be used as a weapon. Anger makes us blind to our own truths, hides it and converts it to something hideous, often lethal if nurtured. It is a dark power many damned use as their foundation to their tainted souls and can be harnessed to possess unspeakable power.”

“Like Lucifer,” the girl whispered. Escareliette nodded.

“He was the first fallen Priest of Heaven and he uses his power for evil, creating a very powerful world we all know as the seven deadly sins, adultery, coveting, murder, fornication and every other sin under his sun and ours.” The girl took in her words and said,

“Come my lady, your bath is prepared. I’ve put some herbal extracts in it from the garden of healing and lit some candles.” Once more Escareliette was perturbed once again by the way she was addressed and could finally take it no longer.

“I’m curious, but why are you calling me my lady? It’s very irksome.” The girl was taken by surprise, it showed on her face.”

“Because you’re the new High Priestess. The bath is to prepare you for your ceremony.” The first reaction that took Escareliette was shock. Her face blanched and her eyes were wide and shocked. She seemed astounded, but after about a minute the color returned and she just nodded, still partially thunderstruck.

“Why was I not informed earlier and…why me?” The girl gave a small smile of pity with a mix of respect.

“My lady, you were gravely ill, it would have been unwise to tell you in the state of mind and body you had been in. That is why I came to explain in as plain terms as possible. Cora, the High Priestess wished to tell you herself, but unfortunately was unable to do so. She chose you as her heir because she felt you would be right for it.” As the girl explained in a boring tone Escareliette’s mind wandered, it drifted until it fixed on the memory of Cora’s last words to her. ‘It is all a lie, Escareliette. It is up to you to decide the fate of your world and the fate of others like you.’ What had Cora meant? What was a lie? Whose world? Hers? How? “Excuse me, high Priestess, your bath is ready.” Escareliette twirled around to face the young angel, not realizing she had turned away in the first place. She just stood there for a moment, and then regaining her senses nodded and shadowed the angel through the bathing room curtains into her washroom.

Her bathing room had altered. There in one corner was a powder dresser present like some sentinel watching her movements, full to capacity with different types of face paints. Escareliette’s forehead crinkled in aversion but she said nothing. There was also a closet overflowing with silks, cotton, taffeta, chemises, shirts, dresses and robes for exiting the bathtub.

Her floor which had once been green tiled, a color of the earth’s purity had always made her feel this was her secret escape from the world, but to her silent dismay it was now pure pink. There was not one graze on the marble tiles and they shone like reflective squares of her uneasiness in this large space used for the cleansing of the body, now feeling like the very thing which would scar her. She took her eyes from the floor and was taken aback by the glow of the room. Searching she found the candles surrounding the large tub raised which was to the right. She had never had a bath so immense, it was almost in the ground, and about a foot of the rim was above the floor. Bubbles filled the water which was as blue as the Mediterranean Sea, an aqua baby blue shade, an unusual color.

Amy (the angel tending her) led her to the middle of the room and taking the hint Escareliette slid the straps of her nightgown off her and wiggling slightly it cascaded to the floor in a whisper of cloth. With that small action her skin was revealed, pale and glowing with a health beyond most angels. With Amy’s hand on her shoulder Escareliette stepped slowly into the blue water, one foot softly before the other. She lowered herself bit by bit all the way, the liquid covering her legs, stomach, breasts and finally the edges of her shoulders.

It wasn’t unusual for angels of the same sex to witness each other naked. In the House, there was a great establishment of trust. So Escareliette had not experienced any awkwardness revealing her body in front of Amy. Amy it seemed was going to be her lady in waiting, one of several she was going to acquire. Escareliette didn’t know how she knew it; she just did, with knowledge new to her. Anyhow it was a thing she was going to have to get used to.

As she soaked in the herbal waters, a strange sensuous buoyant feeling washed over her with the fluid and feeling immediately tranquil rested her head against the back of her bathtub, unclasped her necklace and put it on the edge of the tub.

Amy, seeing her lady’s gratification nodded and walked outside into the main bedroom into her mistress’s realm and sat at her dresser, admiring the beautiful things she had. The seashell jewelry, the pearl comb, the grand necklaces, rings, earrings, and the headdress she would wear at her ceremony. She respected Escareliette and believed her to be an exalted High Priestess, but she didn’t love David, whom Amy adored and would do anything for if just to speak to him, like the oils she had put in Escareliette’s bath to make her docile and playful as a kitten. She hated its true purpose, but David had said his future queen needed something to calm her nerves and so Any had done it. She would do anything for him…anything. As she touched the lace of the headdress she imagined herself in it and sighed.

While Amy was outside fantasizing of being High Priestess Escareliette was soaking in her warm, tingling essence of peace water. She calmly scrubbed some of the oils put on her shelf beside the tub on her legs and groaned as she lathered her breasts in it. She couldn’t place what it was, her mind was to quiet to care. She leisurely picked up the solution to wash in her hair and squeezing a pool of the yellow slimy concoction on her hand and planted it in her hair, creating a lather of soap suds in her thick black tendrils. When she had made enough soap bubbles in her hair she slid down in the marble structure, going completely under and into the deepest part of her mini-pool. Her tub was about the same size as the bottom level of the garden fountain on the grounds. She swam listlessly near the bottom like a surreal mermaid, her long hair drifting out behind her like a ghost. Her skin was like porcelain under the ethereal tint of the luke warm water, white even. She closed her eyes for a moment in pure bliss and when she opened them she found that she could see clearly like she was peering through a glass, and what she saw frightened her yet enthralled her. Staring straight back at her was the green eyed, sharp toothed man from her fantasies. They were nose to nose away from each other, both smiling as they floated nude in the water. Then in a breath he took her mouth with his in a burning demanding kiss as he grabbed her in her strong arms. She complied to everything he did to her, everyway he touched her, then she felt his throbbing desire against her leg and in fear she pushed him away and raced for the surface. It seemed hours when it was truly only seconds, for her head to break the surface. Gasping for air she looked around, her shoulders rising like waves against the shore, quick and high, but after a minute gradually calmed down. She leaned back against the tub to get that serene ease she’s had but it didn’t come back.

So with a gloomy sigh she lifted herself out of the water and picked a robe off of the rack on the wall adjacent with the tub and stepping onto the pink floor, wrapped it around herself. The silk, informative robe fir snugly to her shoulders, making her comfortable and warm. Daintily and calmly she walked into her room and saw the dress on the bed. For a moment she just stood there, staring.

“Do you like it my lady?” A voice said softly behind her, but she didn’t move, wasn’t even sure she’d even heard it. She could faintly hear footsteps at the back of her and not a thing registered in her mind as somebody from behind her wrapped their arms round her and kissed her neck. Escareliette’s eyes widened and she turned her head only to have her mouth captured in a demanding kiss of the man holding her. In her dull consciousness Escareliette knew. She shouldn’t allow him touch her, should fight him, but she was powerless, all she could do was answer by kissing back. Finally after a moment David let her go, she had to. He wanted her badly, he had to calm down before the ceremony or else tongues would wag. He couldn’t afford his partner to be shamed. Shame was the most unwanted thing right now. Almost dozily Escareliette walked away from him, heading for her bed.

When she made it she looked down at the garments picked out for her. It was a pure white taffeta dress. Almost like the robes the Hebrews wore in the time of Christ. The dress had no straps but a fold of the material over the top helped support her breasts, as well as the pink sash that was around the belly, underneath her breasts to hold them up. Escareliette touched the long draping, almost kimono like sleeves. The skirt extended well past her feet and was trimmed with gold. A gold stripe, smaller at the sash but broadening at the feet added a nice touch.

Escareliette’s eyes wandered over to the right of the dress and spied the most beautiful sandals. They had straps that went between the toes, made as not to aggravate. They were of silver and white with jewels of Earthern continents, probably Egypt at the junction where the strap that went between the toe and feet connected. Escareliette touched the shoes like a mother with a newfound babe, fearing even the slightest marring of their beauty. The same could be administered with the dress. She smoothed her hands over the baby skin fabric of the sash and over the fold on the top. Designs were etched on the hem, in a language that was deceased, Golden stitched ivy bordered the fold over the breasts and the cuffs of the sleeves, making it seem like a wedding gown.

Quietly David walked over to where she was. Escareliette heard him and turned to face him. He approached her slowly, wondering if the magic he had ordered to be administered to her bath had taken effect. But her expression showed no hostilely so David came closer and putting his hands on her robe belt, untied it and pushed part of her breast aside. He nearly fell to his knees at the plump breast that was uncovered, the rosy nipple puckering at the air that hit it. His lustful eyes ventured further and saw one long, slender leg and a small patch of dark hair, hiding her most private place, a place that if David didn’t take his eyes away from would quickly want to know more of. Forcing his sight away from it he said,

“Put on your dress. I-I want to see you in it. Quickly now.” Lazily and without a word Escareliette slid the rest of her silk robe off. With the cool air striking her nipples Escareliette felt a tranquil easiness unlike any other, ‘how sad it is that my love isn’t here to enjoy it with me, the freedom without bounds,’ she thought wistfully. She sensed something wasn’t right with her, but she was so content that she couldn’t truly care. Twirling around in her gay mood she bent over, naked as the day she was born and lovingly lifted her dress off the bed. David turned around and was still as her back was to him; he could see her smooth round bottom. Even though he wanted to touch her he must keep his chastity, at least until tonight. Tonight they would be Priest and Priestess, almost the same as man and wife, but different, so much more, so much stronger. He watched as she slowly and almost drunkly lifted the dress over her head and let it drop. It immediately covered her head and not being able to see, she attempted to stick her arms from under and tried to grasp it with her blind hands.

David, amused by this, went over to her to help pull it over her head. Giving a smile not her own Escareliette continued on her own, slipping her arms through the long sleeves and pulling the rest over her nude body, covering her. It clung to her like a second skin above the sash, fitting perfectly, presenting every curve of her breasts, slim stomach and hips. Then she adjusted the top of her dress over her breasts so it wouldn’t slip down, showing more than she would have liked. David took up the cloak that went with the dress that Escareliette hadn’t noticed but she spread her arms as he put her arm through one arm hole and then the other, then reached down to link the gold chain that connected the two sides together just below the neck. As David evened the back out and fixed the hood Escareliette smiled at the friendly gesture and turning her head placed a kiss on David’s lips. David was surprised by the sudden act and before he could react she walked past him, her skirts and sleeves flowing out behind her like a crystal waterfall, glimmering like sun on the ocean. The very soul of her seemed to ignite the candles on the dresser she walked to.

She reached down and picked up the headdress which she had spotted earlier upon dressing. It was more than fancy it was majestic. A pearl headband and crystal on a golden crown which would encircle her head and keep it so. The very essence of it screamed power, with the thin silk veil, it represented dangerous ferocity. Escareliette put a hand to it and felt the purity of the silk material that glimmered. Amy quite entered her mind with the force of a speeding bus. She put her head erect and looked around, half confused, noticing her absence.

“David, where’s Amy? She was here earlier.” David smiled, it was the first time she’d said his name, and it wouldn’t be long before she’d be saying it again, with more feeling. He made his way to her quickly and taking the headdress from her delicate hands he placed it affectionately on her fair black head and bending down from his six foot three height placed a kiss on her forehead. He spread out the veil onto her soft wet hair and Escareliette looked up at him with almost a timid expression, like a maiden wife with her husband on their wedding night, and this was their wedding, tonight she would be his. He was anxious, almost impatient but he could wait, he’d waited over 200 years, he could stand a few more hours. His eyes on her face he smiled and standing back, took her in hungrily. She was stunning in her ceremonial dress, her green eyes and her dark hair.

While David was apart from her Escareliette observed what he wore. A Greek style of robes and he had a circlet on his light brown hair. A ring was on his wedding finger and he had a bronze necklace hanging beneath his neck. Seeing this and vaguely remembering her own Escareliette mumbled a quick departure to the bathing room to retrieve something. Bowing as was custom she hurried through the bathing room curtains and spying her cross on the bathroom floor quickly bent down to pick it up. As she did an eerie feeling washed over her, as though a death had occurred. Still incoherent and ignorant of her own wisdom and self knowledge Escareliette shrugged and picking up the heavy necklace, putting both ends round her neck clasped the ends together and for a reason to imprinted into her habits to forget tucked it inside her bodice and pulled the dormant cowl over the golden chain. Patting it where it lay she turned and bumped into David. She nearly squealed as he had startled her and backed away. David, fearing the drug was wearing off quicker than it should stayed where he was and watched her, but instead of giving him that angry insulted look that he adored she turned away without a word.

Escareliette was suddenly very confused. Where was she? What was she doing? Shouldn’t she be with Cora? Looking at the stars? Where was Cora? Escareliette groaned and put her hands up to her forehead. What was wrong with her? Her mind was murky and pounded with the vertigo threatening to consume her. She squeezed her eyes shut as the room began to spin.

David sensing her illness rushed over to her and held her as she wobbled. God, she wasn’t going to faint was she? His brow furrowed with dislike at the notion. “Are you alright Escareliette?” Escareliette opened her eyes and for a moment said nothing then rotating in his arms, rested her head on his chest and replied,

“I’m fine, just tired.” He nodded and together they went back into her room and Escareliette’s head flew up surprised as 16 angels, all men, all dressed accordingly in a deep hue of purple and golden robes (the royal color) with trumpets as part of their dress entered through her doors which were opened before the formidable robed choir even stepped through. They all split into two separate lines, twelve in each row and raising their trumpets, which were adorned with banners, to their lips they created an announcement which reverberated around the room and the hall and throbbed uncomfortably in Escareliette’s ears, for a very overshadowing looking man.

His hair was pure white and flowed on down his shoulders. Thin white brows gave little light to the pale blue frosty eyes. His face was almost dragonish, a long hawk-like nose and very devilish lips. He nearly had a beard, a small patch of hair hanging on his chin like a goat. His very walk bellowed supremacy and the robe he wore flared out about him like his massive white wings, which were semi-furled, broadened out to some extent to make him appear taller than he already was. He wore a black robe, with a stole on his shoulders, each end sporting a cross with a Flame above it. The hem of his royal attire was pure gold as was the long sleeves of his outfit. He also supported a numerous amount of golden rings each encrusted with rupees. Last of all but the most influential of his dynasty was the large golden cross on his neck. At this newfound knowledge the cross settled against Escareliette’s breasts burned her skin and she had to take her eyes off the old High Priest. Nothing or no one could upstage him, save for the slight possibility of the bible he carried in his arms like a blessed child.

It was a teal green color with ancient symbols and Latin, Hebrew and Aramaic engraved on the cover and spine. It was thicker by far than any book Escareliette had ever laid her eyes on; it must be over 2000 years old by the glimpse she caught of it.

When he made his materialization into the room the high ranking glanced both of them over, lingering longer on the younger woman who would be the next High Priestess. So this was the child his Cora had spoken so fondly of. To be frank he couldn’t see why, but through his stony exterior he was a fair man of truths and he couldn’t deny she was powerful despite her age and size, and fidgeting. She looked as though any moment she was going to jump out of her skin. He dearly hoped the two hundred years of meticulous training had toughened and made her astute enough to be the next matriarch of the angels in this part of Heaven.

Bringing his scrutinizing stare from Escareliette he turned to David. He knew the man well and he trusted him just as much as he trusted one of Lucifer’s mistresses. The man was power hungry and had planned his way to be the spouse of this child for his entire existence. He sought with his eyes, not with his heart, a child’s blundering mistake. The High Priest knew his immediately when he saw her magnificence. He sighed. He had heard pf Escareliette, heard of her independence and headstrong personality. He knew of her prophecy and her dark past. There wasn’t a more ill harmonized orchestra of a couple to rule heaven, but alas, it wasn’t his decision or place to say, if God had meant for this, then so be it. With a solemn nod to both of them he gestured for them to follow.

David, reaching for Escareliette’s hand pulled her along with him as he half-trotted to come behind the High Priest. Escareliette looked over at David’s pallid face and he looked at her and putting on a small grin squeezed her hands, assuring her more than himself.

Escareliette however was numb. Somehow this didn’t feel right, but her soul did not have the will to fight, it was too weak. So when the Priest turned, indicating that they follow, she was merely a puppet on David’s string as he dragged her alongside him.

When they entered the hallway she was both stunned and terrified as it was filled with hundreds of women, men and children, as many as the cavernous hall would allow. Some were cheering, clapping and wishing luck whilst others just looked on in silent disapproval and malcontent. It was their eyes that Escareliette felt boring through the mask she was wearing. The dress and the veil mere shreds of cloth to their eyes that could penetrate her mind and soul to see it was all a lie, a pact of deceit. She could hear them laughing at her and could see them nock their arrows menacingly, aiming at her. She feared them, as though she was one of the Evil demons the Arch angels slaughtered. Slaughtered? Since when did an angel ever slaughter anything? Her brain fuddled searching for the answers to so many unanswered questions and her mind aching she barely made it down the loud echoing hall with David towing her along. Tearing her weary eyes away from the crowd and focused on the decorations that had been thrown all around like a Van Gough painting.

Large bushels and strings of roses had been put in pot belly sized vases and draped between the pillars that held up the ceiling. The scent of them floated into Escareliette’s nose and lifted her tired spirits somewhat. Her feet nearly tripped on a raised up portion of the purple carpet that had been laid on the hall floor, but she quickly righted herself before anyone had noticed. While they made their way down the rest of the way down the hall she saw that the candles in the golden holders gave a light in the hall, and shone darkly on Escareliette’s face. The light hurt her much to her own surprise, sending small spasms of pain through her body. With all of this going on around her Escareliette jut decided o shut her brain down and follow. She saw the two large doors ahead and sighed inwardly with relief as angels waiting at the immense wooden barriers to her freedom from this claustrophobic hall turned the brass knobs and pulled them open.

But what awaited them outside made Escareliette’s stomach do uncomfortable somersaults. In anticipation of them coming outside were more angels, more than Escareliette could have imagined thought existed in Heaven. They sat on benches; some played their trumpets announcing their arrival. Her ears rang at the noise and she winced horrible. But she stayed strong despite her weakness and tried to keep walking as best she could. It was a wonder her feet didn’t collapse beneath her. But even in the state she was in now she had always been physically strong, but psychologically, it was a wonder she wasn’t killing herself right now. It seemed agonizingly sluggish as they made their way through the courtyard of the house of Maidens, through the cherub guarded gates and onto the path leading to the Belfleur Cathedral.

The angels that had been in the courtyard unfurled their white wings and took flight, soaring over the nineteen people walking in procession for the church. Children giggled and spiraled gaily overhead. They waved and dove close enough to take Escareliette’s hand that she held up for them. they were pulled away by their tutting relatives who had rejoined them in Heaven and Escareliette could swear she saw her child that she had brought it, Lisbet.

Escareliette was very fatigued and was ready to collapse when at last they made it to the steps of the church. The trumpeters ran up the steps and stopped, eight on each side and intervals of four steps. Then suddenly the noise of the celebrating angels was hushed as the father of the former High Priest who was leading the group manifested himself at the head of the stairs and acknowledging the party opened his mouth to say,

“It is with great regret that we rejoice this new set of rulers,” the crowd mumbled in agreement, some bowed a little, other crossed themselves and clasped their hands, the Priest continued in his booming grating voice, “but it is with even greater joy that we invite them into the right hand of the father! They will after tonight, decide our future and give a new and stronger foundation and home to live in! Now, if you will follow me, the ceremony will begin. As soon as Escareliette and David began to continue up the steps the sixteen trumpeters began to play and once again she winced and tried hard to put the ringing in her ears away.

Finally once they walked through the doors the church was silent. There were hundreds seated in the pews and on the rims of the fountains but in respect they were quiet, but despite all of this Escareliette was nervous. She was still drugged, but stronger feelings like fear, rose up, nearly reaching the surface, but through her glass face no emotion showed. She had gone slightly pale but that was from her sickness. The High Priest told them to halt at threat the edge of the of the pews as, carrying the book, he proceeded on up to the mammoth altar ahead.

The altar consisted of four steps to the platform which held the holy bible on its brown immaculate surface. The pillar had garlands of flowers wrapped around it and the smell drifted all around the room. There was also a table on which an incense lamp, a bowl of holy water and other various holy relics were laid upon.

Once the Priest had reached this altar and taken the staff that was given to him by an attendant he raised his hands to indicate that the congregation should rise. Once they had, some with mutterings and others with heavy sighs and smoothing of their pristine white robes and much ruffling of crammed feathers he nodded to Escareliette and David for them to come forward.

Escareliette was jittery as step by step they came closer to the altar and her fate. They walk was long and tedious. She shivered with the stares and mutterings. Once they reached it, past all of the shadows of the people present the Priest put both of his hands on their heads, one for one and said aloud,

“We welcome these children of God and of the light into his house and into our hearts.”

“We do,” the congregation said in unison.

“We will pray every night for guidance in ruling us and for the safe retrieval of angels to come.”

“We will,” they mimicked.

“May God protect their souls and ours as we take yet another step to our salvation and the salvation of countless others.”

“God protect them,” they chorused.

“You may be seated,” said the Priest. People uttered small sounds of relief as they settled themselves back in the pews, but it was droned out by the Priest as he spoke again, this time addressing Escareliette and David,

“May God go with you into the rest of your lives and be in your touch as your hands lead souls into Heaven and smite the Evil from the world of mortal man. May you be blessed in your words, love for one another, and the love and mercy to countless others.” He took the bowl of holy water held up by the attendant and dipping a snowflake cloth into its pristine waters raised it above Escareliette and David said,

“Now kneel under God’s power and receive his blessing as he welcomes you into his heart.” Both Escareliette and David knelt, David’s hand still clasping Escareliette’s as the Priest first held the dripping cloth over her head then David’s, squeezing drops of the blessed water onto their foreheads. Escareliette shuddered inwardly at the stinging but the pain quickly dissipated. In silence they both took the wine and the bread, crossing themselves. Then with a few more words of God’s grace he gave them each a thin white candle and said,

“Now light this holy symbol of your loyalty to each other’s union and your union with God.” Tensely Escareliette, led by David rose up and walked to the altar with her candle in her trembling hand to the large white candle. She went to her ride of the table; while David went to his and both stretching out their lit candles they touched the wick of the old candle and watched, on tenterhooks as it slowly ignited. The Priest frowned slightly, it was unusual that the candle should not light immediately but he let it pass and saying the last words of the ageless yet age old rite he blessed them.

“It is with the utmost honor and love in my heart for these two people to present them to you as our new High Priestess and Priestess!”

Escareliette was surprised. She had thought the ceremony would take much longer. Was something amiss? But the Priest laid his hands on each one of their shoulders and whispered,

“It’s alright my dear,” Escareliette realized he was directly speaking to her, “It was short and quick but everything’s alright. Cora didn’t want you to go through much if something had happened to her.” then he turned back to the crowd. He gave the two a slight push and taking the notion Escareliette, led by David began walking down the aisle amidst people who began to rise as they passed, clapping and cheering. It was nearly instantaneous, the whole crowd, standing and clapping, giving shouts of praise. Once they reached the end of the admirers and witnesses they turned and bowed and with a gentle tug from David she continued the rest of the way, vaguely seeing the people around her. Escareliette lazily smiled and finally they were through the halls and out through the oak front doors into the starless night.

They were greeted by hundreds of people, shouting and yelling. It agonized Escareliette and she looked at David, her eyes holding pain, but he was busy waving and shouting back replies to notice. She tried vainly to tug on his sleeve but he either ignored it or didn’t feel it.

David couldn’t grasp the concept that he had done it, what he had craved for his whole life, on Earth and in Heaven was finally coming true. He was High Priest and by his side a beautiful woman, a bit of the black art had used on tonight administered regularly should make her very compatible for him. He faintly felt a tugging on his sleeve and looking down saw her staring up at him, her eyes brimming with the pain of the racket surrounding them and her face was flushed. So using the small amount of kindness he had he bent down and asked,

“What is it my lady?”

“I-I’m unwell. I n-need rest, please I want to go to bed.” David smiled a look that the Devil would be proud of. Bed was exactly where he wanted her so giving shouts of farewell to his people he took Escareliette up in his arms and widening his gray wings began to flap and rise from the ground.

It took only a few seconds to fly through the windless, star filled, cool night. Escareliette basked in the reprieve of being freed from the prison that was the clamor behind them, she held tightly onto David, not knowing the danger. They alighted on Escareliette’s balcony with her still in his arms. He carried her through the curtains, across the room and laid her on the bed. He hesitated, now that he had her he truly didn’t know what to do with her.

Escareliette being kind at the moment for her new husband rose up and taking his limp hands from his sides and placed them on her shoulders, moving them down to the sash that held her bodice up and leaving his hands there untied the sash and threw it to the floor. David’s eyes grew dark and lustful as the bodice gave way to the weight of her breast as they fell out of the dress, full and voluptuous.

The nipples tightened into hard crying peaks from the cool air that struck them and eagerly David put his hands on them to touch, to feel them. in her right mind Escareliette would never allow David to touch her like this but she was rendered senseless from his magic. She had to be drugged as she permitted him to rip the rest off the remainder of her clothing, throwing violently to the floor and giving his mouth the permission to go where his hands had briefly before touched.

Escareliette now in her own mad rage of sinful desire lacerated his robes to scraps as she heaved it away and rubbed her hands on his smooth muscled chest and leaning forward began to kiss him slowly, from his neck down, leading a killer trail to the most longing part of him which was already so hard it was an embarrassment.

She was still sitting there on the bed and he was standing up and he was taking as much as he could stand until Escareliette put her hot mouth on his manhood.

With that sudden burst of need he slammed her on the bed and got on top of her and as she looked up at him with those liquid green pools that he could drown in he spread her legs with his hands and positioning himself between them didn’t hesitate to enter and take what was his.

Escareliette felt no real pleasure as he thrust into her with all his strength. It was as though she were dead and no sentiment could be felt and with a confused feeling she took her cross, of which had been hidden beneath her hair and grasped it firmly which unfortunately David noticed. He just stopped immediately in his act of loving her, his need immediately vanishing like dust in the wind as he saw the pitch black, red jeweled cross around her neck. It was a sign of the Devil, of everything he despised and contempt, seeing it on her filled him with a madness he didn’t even believe himself capable of. He raised himself up and ripping her hand away from it, grabbed it, rage in his obsidian eyes and body language. He had gone rigid and his breath was coming out as though he’d been stabbed in the chest, quick and shuddering, like a dragon ready to breathe fire.

Frightened to death Escareliette gasped as he yanked on it, choking her.

“What is this damnable thing?!” Escareliette shook her head, not knowing how to answer, David drew his hand back and slapped her hard on her jaw, Escareliette cried out,” What is it?!” he spat. Then looking at the cross again, his teeth clenched he hissed, “I know what it is. It’s a love gift from Lucifer. You’ve been fucking the devil haven’t you?! You bitch of Hell. Well maybe I’ll send you there soon. Tomorrow I’m going to take you so hard that my fingers on your breasts will leave bleeding bruises maybe that will satisfy the whore in you…” with that David took her forcefully and slammed her head off the headboard of the bed, causing her to lose partially consciousness and splitting a gash, making it bleed. He got up and went over to her dresser, took a feather quill with a ebon steel point, one he had put there earlier with a red feather and taking a candle with him came back over.

Escareliette screamed as he violently and compulsively forced her on her stomach and pressing her to the bed by his knee on her bottom he put the quill into the Flame and waited until it heated to a slitting, skin burning capacity. Then with it still skin shredding hot he pressed it to her back, with her cross in his shaking hand.

The pure pain tore through Escareliette’s body as the quill, which contained all of David’s anger and vengeance was brought through its steel tip into her skin. It was the deadliest magic an angel could give and left scars. Ignoring her plea David settled himself into a comfortable position and tediously began to draw. He drew what he had seen to make her anything but beautiful. A whore of the Devil and so he would mark her and punish her for every day of their fake marriage. He sneered as she screamed; all of his love for her was gone, evaporated like her tears on the stain pillows as she struggled to free herself of his weight on her. David smiled insanely as each line he drew, blood replaced. Escareliette let out a long hideous wail and David struck her across the face and continued the dark blood from her back dribbling down her sides, turning the golden sheets red.

Through the span of an hour this unremitting anguish transpired, her bawling in pain, his curt answers by hitting her. By the time he finished her eyes were red and her face purple from his replies to her wails.

Her jaws too swollen to even whimper Escareliette just withstood the last few minutes of his lunacy and closed her eyes to shed a last set of tears as he rose at last and threw the quill, coated in blood to the bed. Her blood smeared over his hands he looked at his grotesque masterpiece, greedily digesting the hate towards her as he looked at her naked, bleeding, bruised form and smiling like a demon he turned away from her and pulling the curtains to, hiding his destruction from view left her there.

Escareliette, so weak that she couldn’t even move a finger whimpered one last time, the effects of David’s spell now dripping away like her blood and tears, realizing her mistake to late and whispered, her jaws screaming pain and agony,

“Oh Cora why did you leave me here?” her voice vanished from her as exhausted she became immobile on the bed, her hand dangling over the side, dripping, drip, drip.



At the gates of St. Peter a form lay dead on the on the path as a dark cloaked figure was bent over it, its teeth clamped on his neck, draining him.

He had come to greet the new soul into Heaven only to meet his own painful demise as the figure huddled by the gates, crying to be let out pounced on him and tore open his artery, spilling blood on his wings and robes.

Relishing in the sweet, pure blood of its victim the stranger heard cries, cries of pain. In fear of the sound it hid behind the body of the angel and lay there as though lifeless. He was somewhere deadly to him and his deepest fears told him it could kill him.

Queen Demoness book 1- The gateway to earth
18:03 Apr 14 2006
Times Read: 558




















~*Chapter 2*~











August 1745

Sighisoara, Transylvania



The wind whistled through the trees and the wolves howled as the black coach snaked its way noiselessly along the leaf strewn paths of the lands of Transylvania. The six galloping horses hitched up to the black and gold trimmed carriage tilted their ears back nervously and nickered nervously, their whites of their eyes showing and haste in their taught strides. Their hooves skidded and they shook their manes in aggravation as they nearly collided. But the wooden tackle connecting them prevented the act of happening.

They were in this stress because there seemed to be a malevolent whispering through the trees, making the coachman driving wrap his fingers around the handle of the crossbow neatly tucked away under his seat. Perspiration formed on his pale, frosty brow from his wide brimmed hat as he lifted one hand from the leather reins to tuck in his woolen gray scarf more snugly against the cold weather. Shivering, his breath visible in the air he drew his sheepskin coat together as his young eyes scanned the eerie woods around him. A bright ghostly shine lighted on his forehead and he looked up to see a cloud remove itself to reveal a large full moon. Silent apprehension made him frown under his scarf and clasping the crossbow even tighter he listened. Nothing could be heard, not even the horses gave a sign of approaching danger with their sensitive hearing as the plodded on the dirt wagon track. Hearing a low sigh the man watched as some leaves lazily drifted from a tree onto the dirt road. Realizing something his eyes snapped to the trees above him but too late.

With a hideous howl and flash of fur and fangs the werewolf sprang from the tree branches and lithely landed on his hind feet on the roof of the coach. No one inside screamed but insanely the driver’s face broke into a smile as the red haired snarling servant of the demons known as vampires raised itself up to a towering height on its huge feet. With mouth wide and full of shredding canine teeth it jumped down with athletic ease onto the driver’s seat. It looked at him as its clawed feet clicked on the wooden bench, its mad yellow eyes boring holes at his jugular. As it smelled his unease and sensed the blood flowing through his warm body the lycan pinned his ears back, curled his lips back into a snarl and raising its head up to the moon, let out a long howl. Looking back down at the driver the werewolf’s hair bristled with anticipation as claws outstretched he bunched up his corded sinewy furred legs and sprang at him.

The driver anticipated for the moment and with the signal that the wolf gave him, used his spilt second reflexes as he had been trained and pulled out the hand revolver with the silver bullet, trying hard not to see that it was his brother and without a blink pulled the trigger.

The horses reared at the gunshot, their hooves lifting off the ground, threatening to send the coach on its side but a man jumped out of the wobbling coach and grabbed their reins to bring them back to the ground.

Nothing could be seen, the haze and smoke from the gun gave an added touch to the already hazy atmosphere around them. The man who had just emerged from the coach gave a leg up and hopped onto the bench and looked at the grim face of a slayer who had just committed nothing short of what he believed was murder. Looking over onto the side of the road where the dead body of a young red haired boy lay he spat. He stared into the lifeless pupils of the brother, who, only minutes ago had tried to kill him. Blood slowly dribbled from the shot in his chest onto the forest floor. Turning his attention away from the repulsive sight with his gun still in his hand Jabril looked at his friend with a pained and exasperated look as he sighed and pushed himself up with his free hand to straighten his posture on the seat. His partner and elder Rubin patted him on the back and looking up at the full moon said,

“He was a good man my friend, in his free life. It is good that we have taken his life before he took countless others. It is what he would have wanted, you know that.”

Jabril swiveled his eyes up to the full moon shining amongst the trees and with a deep exhausted sigh said with utter hatred and disgust,

“Yes. But how long until the curse backfires on me? You know lycan blood flows down the line since my father’s father and on into his sons, including me. Ramak just started changing on his 17th birthday. I’m two months from the curse when I turn 17 myself. The curse affects my whole bloodline and I fear I will soon become that which I hunt so passionately and vengefully, a monster, a beast of revelation, a-a servant to him. That filthy flying no account son of a bitch who started all this chaos and pain in my family.” With his anger Jabril hadn’t even realized his eyes had gone yellow and hair had begun sprouting on his forearms, but with understanding and pity, for he knew his pain Rubin around Jabril’s shoulders and nodded in agreement.

“Your family, my friend, is merely a small amount of the creatures and servants Count Dracula creates for his bidding and amusements. My mother, do not forget, is one of his wives. Tamashka is her fair name which I now spit out with venom and pain at the same time. She is the deadliest of the three brood mares he owns in his bed. No doubt countless dead children have come from her womb, the same soil from which I was sown, where that demon now attempts to reap his harvest without success. For some reason he cannot continue the fruit of his loins shall we say for some unexplained reason, although, there is no problem with his loins as far as I can tell. But all in all I have had to come to terms with the fact that I cannot save her as she was so willing as I know her to be, to cast aside me and my siblings, who she killed later on, for his bed when I was a lad of 4 almost 27 years ago. So, in these cases it seems that both of us hold very strong grudges.” Rubin’s speech managed to get a smile from Jabril and seeing his young friend in a better mood Rubin clicked his tongue and flicking the reins got the horses moving and the coach rattling once more down the road. Mildly concerned of the direction they were going Jabril looked at his friend.

“Rubin, where are we going? The cabin is in the other direction, you know, behind us.”

“We’re going to a pub known as the Swinging Boar which has the best Absinth which we can drink, or rather I can drink, to a sourly but surely won victory.” Jabril shook his head at the words.

“Old man, you imbibe too much alcohol for you own good, it’s a wonder how you stay sober enough to hunt at all.”

“Ah it is so, but Absinth has that affect on me. It is as good as a saloon wench you hear about from the west, in America. Of which the Swinging Boar now has. These loose women are sure to rock my dreams away if you take the hint.” Both weary men chuckled and just before they rounded the bend ahead of them Jabril leaned over from his position on the right to watch as a hungry pack of wolves descended from the hill on the left and disappeared where his brother’s body was. It was the way things were in this dark time of Transylvania, heartless as it was, they would not have had time for a proper burial the three flying horrors known as Dracula’s wives would come searching to see if their pet had triumphed in killing the slayers. Tired and weary of this chase of good and evil Jabril resumed his position in the seat and leaning back against the coach allowed Rubin to drive as he pulled down his hat and took a short nap.



It felt good to finally rest, hours later as Rubin pulled on the reins to stop the horses outside of a ramble old brick building with a sign swinging from a protruding pole saying, ‘Swinging Boar,’ with a depiction of a man with a hog by the tail swinging it around. Shaking his head at the childish picture Jabril jumped down from the front seat with Rubin and landed in a knee deep pile of freshly fallen snow. Looking up at the black sky which was filled with the falling frozen ice crystals Jabril shivered and pulled his scarf tighter. Rubin appeared next to him and together they trudged through the deep snow and opened the stained glass windowed door. As soon as they stepped through the heat of all the bodies inside blasted them like an oven and quickly they had to remove their coats and hats and scarves. Immediately Jabril's senses picked up on the environment surrounding him in the saloon.

The saloon was of a more or less gothic place, where all sorts of riffraff would meet to settle any type of vulgar deal or hire a hit man, the usual place that you wouldn’t want to come unaccompanied to. There were about 23 tables to the left of them, a long oak bar with 13 men seated on high chairs; each drinking their own lager, with a middle aged wise cracking bar tender serving glasses from a large selection behind him on a mirrored counter. An overhanging chandelier above gave a dusty light in the cramped, nearly lightless room. The saloon had middle sized, cracked wooden tables; a large green carpeted one in the middle of the room with a wooden trim for floozies who would dance there. It had burgundy carpet on the floor and on the staircase which led to the second floor in the same room on another level. On the second floor were doors to rooms which Jabril guessed, the men had a night’s entertainment. Oil lamps hung on the walls by the doors, burning low from the lack of oil. The atmosphere was filled with the heavy odor and haze of smoke. The odor of liquor invaded Jabril’s sensitive nostrils and he sneezed. Rubin who was in front of him turned his head and smirked.

“Those keen attributes of you kinship getting to you?” Jabril gave him an exasperated look and was about to say something spiteful back when a floozy named Witch who had spotted Rubin (who was one of her regulars when he was here) came walking over, her bosom bouncing in her step from the tight black and red pinstriped bodice she wore.

Her face was painted, her cheeks a bright pink and her lips blood red and a purple hue to her eyelids which were made shoddier looking to Jabril by her long black lashes which swept over her cheeks like dusters. She smiled at Rubin mischievously who winked back. Jabril saw the exchange between the young woman and his middle aged friend and shook his head. He couldn’t understand how women could exploit themselves as the underdogs, the mere dregs to a man’s night. He respected some women, even though what he had received in return was less than hospitable from them, he pitied them for being so weak. With of course the exception of Dracula’s brides, they were she devils. Witch leaned over to Rubin, showing her tight bosom to him as she whispered something in his ear, making him smile and nod. Jabril rolled his eyes and pushed between the two to get to the bar and sat on one of the high chairs not occupied. Witch looked at Rubin while Jabril sat at the bar, his shoulders hunched and said,

“What is wrong with your friend Rubin dear? He seems a little off the horse today.” Rubin sighed with fatigue and sorrow for his friend, for he knew the worry on his young mind. To be damned was a disconcerting thought, especially his fate, of becoming lost to the world surrounding him from his own hate. But only he knew the ill begotten curse upon his friend and it had to stay that way so he shook his head and said to his paramour,

“He is tired and misses his family. He is far from home.”

“Oh, I see, poor thing. I could get one of my fellows to help him feel better.” Rubin chuckled despite the circumstances. Witch really was oblivious to the darkening world around them, and so it must stay. Mortals such as her, innocent and unrevealed to the damned night were better off innocent in their thoughts and dreams. Innocent rather than know the horrid demons and creatures of the devil that he and Jabril chased. He knew with a great sadness and knowledge of the children produced from evil parents. He knew that Jabril could never take a wife or a lover; damned souls could not produce life, only evil. Evil, such a word that to the mortal ears, the innocent ears was little more than a word used to beat the weak minded into submission under God. Rubin doubted there was a God, to allow such things to happen to his people, but that was why he was here. To save what lives he could from the devil’s people, the damned, night stalking races. Besides, without faith, there was nothing to keep him from fading in a mass of hatred and torturous pain inside himself from what he had seen in his years. Without faith, he wouldn’t be here today.

“Rubin, are you alright?” Witch tugged gently on his shoulder and Rubin turned to her.

“I’m sorry, but no my dear. He is a man who likes to keep to himself, you needn’t bother to do what you plan to him in your rotten little mind.” Rubin smiled at her roguishly and gave another hearty wink. Witch smiled and nodded then hearing her name being sang out from across the tobacco filled room kissed Rubin goodbye and walked away. Rubin looked at his friend and sighed again, then gathering up his thoughts walked over to where he was and sat next to him. The bartender came up to him and Rubin ordered a bottle of Absinth, his usual drink. Jabril had no alcohol, he was never a heavy drinker, plus he was in a brooding mood, his face was pale from fatigue, his eyes dull and tormented. Rubin downed his glass quickly and allowed him to sit silently, lost in his own dark thoughts.

As Jabril watched the crowd of drunken men and loose frolicking women, he wondered. Wondered how long it would be for them to be cast out into the dark world he had lost his soul to, how long it would be before they learned the truth of the world. How many of them had loved and lost, they were so obviously folly in their games of touch and go, touching every inch of each other but never touching upon the truth underneath, the dark filthy, foul truth which lurked in every dark neglected festering part of their souls. They were mere mortals, never to understand the pain when the truth finally came out and enveloped them whole like it had enveloped him, never to be opened and free again. But he would leave them to their games; let them keep their naïve innocent outlook upon the world, to die more innocent than he would. He did not know what would happen to him when the curse of the lycan would finally control him, until then, he was going to live day by day until…his fate came. Deciding to get out of this depressing mood Jabril hailed the bartender and ordered a beer. He caught the pint with ease as it slid across the wooden bar and lifting it to his mouth took the first burning taste. ‘Better than the blood of the lives he would take,’ he thought.

Rubin cast a glance to him and Jabril catching it said,

“Don’t worry so about me old man. I’m fine.”

“By the way you’ve been lately you aren’t, but that’s your own conscious. I’ll leave you to your own skeletons, but right now I brought us here to relax and relax is what we’ll do. Come on, let’s get a table. I feel better knowing there’s too much racket and noise around for anyone to notice people like us. We’re in Brasov remember?” Jabril gave him a look of ‘are you kidding, relax?’ But got up and followed his friend anyway through the throng of incoherent staggering bodies in the saloon to find a table in the back. As they made their way Jabril peered all around through the fog of smoke to see any possible entrances. Right away he noticed the large stained glass window right next to the door. If need be he would bust through that, but as Rubin found a table to sit at he lost his focus and seated himself in the hard wood chairs with uncomfortable backs. After he had previously searched the host of people with his keen eyes for any suspicious characters and seen no one who could harm him he leaned back and tried to enjoy what Rubin called ‘relaxing.’ God, how he hated looking over his shoulder for the last three years, watching for any of that monster’s creatures to rise from the night to slaughter him. Though, to tell the truth Dracula shouldn’t bother, he would kill himself if he got the chance. Putting the glass down on the table Jabril looked into its amber contents, deep once more in his own thoughts. Thinking of Dracula and how much pain he had caused hundreds, including him, for some reason the underworld never knew.

He had known since hushed stories at childhood that the centuries year old Count was not normal. Like how he had three beautiful wives, Shimika, Caramine, and Tamashka, (Rubin’s own mother), all beautiful and each deadlier than the next. Like them Dracula could become a demon, (as the slayers called him) at will. As a man to a woman, he was quite appealing. Long black hair, a noble face and name (although that name was now spoken with fear) money and charm gave him the perfect disguise to hide the devil underneath. But to the slayers he was a towering eight foot high creature that no bible of God could describe or try to explain. No one really knew what he looked like, for second to none no one had lived after crossing paths with him to tell the tale, but Jabril could see him in his dreams. He was a horror with long pointed ears, each one studded with three golden hoops from far Asian countries. He had a mouth full of long dagger like fangs, capable of ripping a man in half with a single bite and three inch long claws on each hand and foot. Attached to his broad back, supported by thick strong muscles was a 30ft span of sinew, hollow bone and veined flesh, his wings. Legend told of how he lived in a castle by which no outsider could penetrate and that to get there one needed the fiery wings of the devil’s children. With his powerful muscular legs he could jump stories at a time from the ground and lift off to gain incredible breakneck speeds to lift objects 20 times his size. And to add more beauty to a hideous piece of art he had a tripwire temper. Angering him was like poking a sleeping dragon in the eye. Besides all this his behavior aside from the anger was peculiar, like the disappearances of hundreds of women over the past 200 years. Vampires fed, they had to, fresh blood was needed for them to survive, and they had to feed every night, two or three people. But Dracula mostly went after dark haired beauties, all with long black hair and green eyes. One thing was for sure, the monster was searching for something and he and the rest of the slayers were certain it wasn’t good or would aid them in their battles with him.

In the middle of his thoughts Jabril was promptly brought back to Earth when a mug shattered near his head. Jabril rose quickly to his feet with his hand on his small caliber pistol, ready to fight. But no one stood up to challenge him or called him, ‘werewolf scum,’ so his identity still intact and hidden his hand relaxed and he sat back down. Rubin was looking at him from across the table but Jabril avoided his gaze. Finally standing his friend’s stare no longer he looked over as to say, ‘what?’

At first Rubin said nothing, lifting his glass of Absinth to his lips. He silently put the glass back down, wiped his mouth with the grubby sleeve of his tunic then said,

“Jabril, my lad, you let your anger take hold of you too quickly. Remember, anger is what starts the change,” Rubin leaned closer, his brown eyes wavering over the crowd to make sure no one was listening,” and with what’s been going on, I can’t afford to have you going hairy and carnivore on me.” Rubin tried to add a bit of lighthearted humor but Jabril just grunted with disapproval of his comrade’s ease with his problem, it was nothing short of a death sentence to him.

He would wake up in the middle of the night when he was a child, the covers thrown everywhere, sweat all over his small body. His mother would come to comfort him, but always when he closed his eyes again he had horrible nightmares. They would always start off the same. He was a man as he was now, he would go walking through the woods on a cloudy night, the wind all around him, rustling through the leaves, blowing his medium length brown hair. Then while walking a cloud would uncover the ghastliness underneath it like a blanket, the full moon. The glowing orb would shine on his face and he would fall to the ground in excruciating pain. His hands would tear through his hair as his skin grew a thick coat of black hair. His nails would grow long and grotesque, proficient at lacerating skin to pieces. His nose and face would elongate and his mouth would fill with dozens of razor-sharp canine teeth. His lungs would expand and his heart would grow larger to pump the blood through his veins. Then when the few minutes of unbearable pain were over, he would smell it, that human scent of fear and blood and sweat. He would stand and afterward sniff the air to home in on the illustrious scent, when he picked it up he would begin to run. He would chase them down into a gorge, alley or any other place where there was no escape but to die. Then when he closed the distance, their clothes touching his face, their screams music in his ears he would make his kill, claws ripping skin to ribbons, savoring the taste of warm blood on his tongue and their pitiful kicks, gasps and struggles. He would torture them until they went limp and disinterested he would let them go. Then, just when he lifted his face to the sky and let out a long mournful howl, a demon appeared, a tall black one that would pounce and immediately slash his throat open. As he died Jabril would look into the burning green eyes of the his killer as the demon said,

“Poor, Jabril, you should have listened, she’s mine.” Just remembering that dream had Jabril’s blood boiling. He never knew what the demon meant, but he was pretty sure it was Dracula talking to him. Dracula had killed many in his years on the earth, hundreds of innocent. But Jabril had murdered his own three brothers, victims of the curse upon the Racinetti family. Thankfully he didn’t have to think of his mother as he’d looked into their eyes and pulled the trigger because his mother had died when he was young, before they had changed and killed. The source of the curse had come from his grandfather, son of a Trojan woman. Needless to say his grandfather had lived a long life until his father had matured and killed him, like a new wolf coming into a pack and getting rid of the old leader. The way the story went was that his grandfather, Armand, (a Greek name) had run away from his mother and lived with the Count as a companion. He had obviously now known, at the time, of the Count’s disposition, of the tortures of towns and his strange eating habits. He had believed the Count’s strange behavior, like disappearing at dawn and his having two wives at the time showed him a tired and lonely man and that secretly one of his wives must be barren for him to have a second. Being a friend to the Count, the Count gave him a new wife for the one who had mysteriously died and the promise of sons if he agreed to an experiment. Dracula was somewhat of a scientific man. Jabril, to this day still didn’t understand why his grandfather had committed such a blasphemous crime. He must have been converted into it, because he had always been a Christian man. However, unfortunately Dracula's experiments had worked, by a few weeks Armand had become a soulless blood spilling half man half wolf monster. When he had received his second wife, he had produced four more sons, three had been killed by slayers before Jabril’s time but his father had lived to create him and his three other brothers and a sister. Jabril knew not what had happened to her, she had vanished.

Now years later his three siblings were dead. One was killed by him, Ramak, another by Rubin, Jaspian, and the last by Edmund by the name of Suez. Edmund as Jabril had known him, was a grand hunter, he was said to be one of the sons of the original Knights of the Holy Order, an organization stationed in Vatican, Rome. Suez had been the last monster that Hunter had ever had to primal feeling of killing. Just as they had been wrestling for the gun, with Suez on top of him in a net, he had bitten him in the arm, thus transmitting the deadly curse. Jabril had been only a boy then and hadn’t understood when the next day they found tracks leading away from their camp with spots of blood and heard the gun go off in the distance. Rubin had not let him see him cry, for he was a strong man and Jabril at so young an age (11) would not have understood why he had been crying in the first place. But now he did, he understood what the blood had meant, the firing of the gun and the disappearance of Edmund. He had been bitten by Suez but had not told them, especially in front of Jabril as he knew he was so fond of him and had quietly and without hesitation had shot himself before he the next full moon when he would turn and kill them. Edmund had not wanted to become what he had hunted with such passion, it would be an insult on his very being, so he had made the choice, he had killed himself, killed himself rather than become what Jabril was to become. Hearing the whole saloon suddenly go up in a roar of laughter Jabril looked up and saw had the Swinging Boar in such a ruckus, and what he saw gave even his stomach a somersault.

Up on the green carpeted stage in the middle of the room was a tall, pale golden beauty in a red extremely low bodice dress. With a lavish body, full voluptuous lips and a set of sparkling devil blue eyes along with a large bosom she had the whole pub in an uproar. She swayed her hips, batted her eyelashes and trailed her hands on the tops of her breasts, licking her lips as she did so. Men threw money up to her and when one particular man threw up a piece of gold she stepped down as though upon air and came up to him. She was apparently very apt at what she did. She put one of her legs between his, dancing seductively on his leg while her inside leg grinded against his manhood, driving him mad. She whispered words into his ear and with him laughing she rose up, brushing her breast across his face. Rubin was having quite the show at the attractive female and seeing his interest the woman began to walk toward him, with a demoness smile on her lips. She swayed her hips in tune to the music as she made her way to him. When she did she lifted her skirts tantalizingly high up her long legs and taking Rubin’s hands moved them over her tiny waist up to cup her breasts. Rubin was having a gay time and Jabril just rolled his eyes. Not many women appealed to him, but Rubin was pleased with anyone. The woman bent down to whisper something in Romanian into Rubin’s ear and something wicked appeared in Rubin’s eyes. He allowed her to drag him up, her hand holding his as she led him across the area of the saloon, up the stairs and into a vacant room, locking the door behind them.

With the entertainment gone the men disappointingly returned to their gambling and drinking, but the woman had disturbed Jabril. When he couldn’t figure out why he just shrugged and continued to finish his glass. Jabril having now gone into a mellow mood, went alert when the saloon door opened and in a whirl of blowing snow three men entered. As the dusted off the snow Jabril did a quick double take.

One man wore a Stetson, a strange hat for these parts and had a silver whip attached to his belt underneath his buffalo hide jacket. He wore black gloves on his wrists and a gray scarf which was around his neck, although it was evident that it was for other purposes. He was a tall burly man and a good shot, according to the squint in his left aiming eye.

The two other men wore basically the same thing only one man had white hair and beady eyes, showing a nervous character and a quick temper and the other had blond, nearly snow white hair which nearly flowed to his shoulders and blue eyes.

Wary, but not really interested in their appearance Jabril turned his attention on another subject, not really interested until one of the men smile at the other. A long toothed smile the devil would envy of his children, curved, perfectly white nearly inch long canines, and when the light hit his eyes, they turned an unmistakable red. Jabril reached underneath his coat for his gun, these men must have been sent for him by the vampires, only they could recruit such men. He knew he must get to Rubin but how?



Rubin was trying hard to control himself from being forceful on the cavern girl but the task proved rather difficult. With her tender body shining in the moonlight and her eyes burning blue desire she was a demon in bed assured. But she was so small like a chine doll, perfect and beautiful that he didn’t want to lay a hand on her. So flawless and precious that Rubin wanted to be gentle.

She would cling to him, her long fingers and smooth hands tearing through his thick, golden brown hair. Whispering phrases and words of encouragement into his ears, urging him on as his hands fumbled undoing the strings on her bodice. She seemed patient as she wrapped her legs around him, her hands clutching the rails of the bed frame behind her as she received what he could give.

Rubin was not old, only 24 years of age, but when it came to women his experience differed from that of the supreme man he was when he was hunting. Right now the harsh labored sounds of her breathing had him on the edge. She was pure sin as she put his mouth to her exposed breast and forced him to suckle like a baby. He raised his eyes to hers and saw a hellish fire burning in them. Just as she leaned forwards Rubin lifted his mouth expecting a kiss but instead she pushed the side of his head against her left breasts, pressing him to her. Laughing like a temptress she said,

“Hear my heart love?” The whole time Rubin was against her chest he had noticed nothing was wrong but now that she had brought up the subject he listened and his eyes widened in fear and surprise as he found the answer. She had no heartbeat.

“Good, because I’m going to steal yours.” It took only a moment for the beautiful face of the woman to transform into a pale, razor fanged blue eyed monster. Rubin frantically reached for his gun on the nightstand but her long wormlike tail whipped from behind and flung it to the wall setting off a round which blasted a hole in the roof. With a laugh that would make the saints of heaven tremble the white she-demon pinned him to the bed as she lowered her fangs to his neck.

There were footsteps rapidly ascending the stairs and Rubin heard them, apparently so did she for she swiveled her head to the rattling doorknob. Rubin tried to yell for help to the person trying to enter, but Caramine had other plans. With a piercing shriek that only demons could conjure from their dead lips she unfurled her wings attached to her back, upper legs and with her claws in his chest, jumped off the bed and propelled herself at the door.

Jabril, who had heard the scream from what could only be a vampire, had run up the stairs and had frantically tried to open the door jumped out of the way as he heard the bed creak with a sudden lift of weight. Even as he was out of the way, as she crashed through the door her tail caught a hold of him and threw him into the wall by the door. Shaken but not hurt Jabril rose up as she dove into the mob of screaming women and men trying to get out of the way and screamed to the three standing men below,

“Kill the wolf! My husband has had enough blood letting of their filthy race!” With a hiss she shot for the stained glass window and instantly shattered it as she broke through into the snowing night outside. Rubin looked below him horrified and buttoning up his breeches which were still on him watched the people scrambling like rats to get out of the saloon becoming farther and father away as she carried him with her long claws. They pierced into his shoulders painfully; he could feel liquid warmth trickling down his bare shoulder. Vampires sometimes would coat their claws with poisonous venoms. A scratch if there were any dangerous toxins on the nails could be lethal. Long nails like Caramine’s; piercing the bloodstream with the treacherous potion if not treated immediately he would die within a few hours. Caramine must have known this which surprised Rubin (for Dracula’s brides weren’t very smart) because she flapped her thin folds of skin which were her wings to accelerate and rise higher. Vampires, experienced ones could be superb fliers. Each of Dracula’s wives were quick, lethal but they lacked the wingspan and skeletal wing structure of a true pure blood vampire. Dracula was a pure breed. He was the first of his kind, thus had none of the flaws of his three mates. Dracula’s wings deferred greatly from that of his wives. The muscles in his back supported the 30 foot; five tipped thick membranous wings that could help him carry a meal to dizzying heights very rapidly.

Caramine was the third strongest of the three wives, but that didn’t make her any less conniving and dangerous, as she had just proven herself to be. She’d tricked Rubin using man’s greatest weakness. As they approached a tall tower of a long abandoned cathedral he cursed himself. He’d learned too much to die as a mere supper for a pack of vampire women. Suddenly out of the blue in that moment of determination and hatred he realized he still had that small blade in the pocket of his breeches he used for shaving. Working against the death grip he was in he managed to move one of his bleeding hands into his side pocket. He fumbled for a moment, his fingers snatching only cloth. Perspiration beaded on his brow despite the freezing temperature, he let go a breath of frosty relief as his fingers closed around the handle of the knife. Closing his eyes and gaining what courage he had he pulled out the sharp blade and with a roar drove it up into the wing joint of the monster.

Surprised by his outburst and her own unexpected pain from her wing Caramine shrieked and let go. She at once realized her mistake and dove for Rubin who was now falling towards the ground like a bullet. She pulled back her boneless wings as far back as possible as she closed in on him. Claws stretched out, ready to snatch Caramine failed to see the hooded figure leap like a shadow onto the roof, level with her, with catlike agility and pull back a silver plated arrow on a bow and aim. Without a breath the archer let loose the arrow and in a blur of silver and feathers struck Caramine in the side and drove her into a building.

Multiple screams sounded through the quiet air as diving from underneath the tower roof were Dracula’s other two wives. Banking sharply once they reached the town one bride immediately disappeared. But the other with black whipping hair adding an already deathly look to an already dead face kept coming. Simara snarled, her lips curling over sharp fangs ready to rip. Her arms were pinned to her sides as she rocketed for Caramine to free her.

The wives of Dracula were loyal, to one another anyway. They hunted, killed, shared various lovers and looked out for one another.

The archer seeing the action drew another arrow from the quiver on her back and drew it back against the string. A shriek of anger and victory echoed from behind her and caught by surprise was knocked over by Tamashka, the strongest of the brides. Surprised but unafraid the woman drew a gun with a grapple hook in it from the folds of her cloak and fired it at the retreating form of Tamashka.

Tamashka, although strong was not as equally bright. She was too preoccupied with the sound of her own arrogant laughter than to listen to the whir of the hook as it sped for her. But her attention was brought very quickly back to where she was as she screamed in pain. The three pronged hook had sliced through her foot and attached to it. Hauling on the gun and rope which the hook was attached to the woman dragged the struggling, flailing demon down. Tamashka screamed in indignation as the pitiful tiny woman who had the gall to hark her and her sisters of the night pulled on her like a spoiled child longing for a good slap. Turning sharply Tamashka dove with all her speed towards the woman, hissing like a hell cat. The woman hesitated for a moment, then acting quickly with the few seconds she had reached down for her small anlace in her leather boot. Tamashka seeing the slayer distracted took her chance. Screaming in victory she put her hind claws forward and was about to savor the feeling of raw bloodied flesh when suddenly someone from behind jumped on her.

With a grunt Rubin grabbed the knife from the outstretched hand of the woman and drove it into the spine of Tamashka’s back, a flying demon’s weakest point. Instantly paralyzed Tamashka screamed and Rubin jumped off and rolled onto the snow covered roof as she rammed headlong into the chimney in front of her. She fell to the roof, tried to rise up but was so weak and her legs wouldn’t work that she fell back to the ground with a small whimper and didn’t move. She wasn’t dead unfortunately but that would be quickly changed as Rubin bent down to pick up the woman’s bow and was handed an arrow. Rubin pulled the weapon of death on the string back near his face, using it as an anchor and closed one of his eyes to aim, but he hesitated. The woman came up to him and putting her hand on his shoulder said,

“Finish it brother.” She pulled down her hood, revealing a small dirty face and a short crop of golden brown hair. Her cat eyes held kindness but were clouded with the pain she’d felt and witnessed over the years. She took a knife that she had up her sleeve and cut the hook from her gun and fitted it with another spare hook. She took out another gun from her belt loaded with weapons and looking over at Rubin cocked it and put her fingers on the trigger. “Brother if you do not finish her I will.”

“But,” Rubin whispered,” I can’t kill our mother.”

“I can,” she whispered as a tear slid down her cheek. But she didn’t get a chance as a scream unlike any that they had heard ripped through the town. Looking at each other they tried to run, but too late as a colossal black demon broke through the clouds above, dove with frightening velocity and snatched Rubin’s sister right before his eyes. The demon laughed hideously as he pumped his wings to land on a roof ledge across from Rubin. He wrapped his wings around her small body and licked her face with his tongue.

Anger swelled inside Rubin and acting quickly he ran over to where his mother lay unconscious and drawing the arrow kicked her over onto her back and aimed it at her heart. Looking over to see Dracula’s reaction, Rubin was infuriated to see that he was still smiling. Fear filling him and his heart begginning to pound in his ears Rubin shouted,

“Let her go Count or you lose you wife!”

“On the contrary she means nothing to me, kill her. Your sister to you however is irreplaceable is she not? And beautiful too,” he growled low and pushed her head to the side as he sniffed at her neck,” besides I could use a new wife. With my careful training she could become quite a lover.” Dracula laughed his sinister laugh as he saw what Rubin didn’t. To anxious with his sister in Dracula’s arms Rubin failed to hear Tamashka rip the knife from her back with her tail and rise slowly to her feet. With a snarl of vengeance Tamashka lifted from the ground with her now mobile wings and slamming into Rubin pushed him off the roof into the dark alley below.



Meanwhile Jabril was having problems of his own. He dodged another bullet just as it exploded the glass case containing the beer mugs behind him. He had crouched behind the bar and was trying to avoid being hit by the three men. The burly one most of all for he held the rifle which contained the silver bullets. He had jumped down behind the counter as soon as Caramine had shouted out her order and had been here ever since, trying to get at his gun which was in front of the bar. Luckily the other two had just plain lead bullets but they could injure him long enough for the burly man to do his job. Some wolf hunters would put some amount of silver into their bullets to prolong the death of the werewolf, on other words torture it before it died. Jabril looked around for a way to get to his gun, but it was too close to the burly man with the rifle. Then, seeing the mug next to him intact Jabril got an idea. Throwing it up into the air he ran out from behind the counter and grabbed his gun just as the man with the rifle shot at it and taking aim Jabril shot at the burly man but he moved and the bullet picked off one of the other men in the leg, making him collapse to the ground clutching his leg. The man with the rifle reacted quickly reacted and shot at Jabril just as he rolled underneath a table. The carpeted floor exploded from the splinters underneath and taking his opportunity Jabril shot the other man with the lead gun in the shoulder. Hit by the hard impact of Jabril’s American edition caliber gun he fell to the ground moaning. The burly man looked to his two comrades and taking the chance Jabril leapt on him, knocking him to the ground.

The man who’d been shot in the leg, the one with the beady eyes, shakily stood up and his gun shook in his hands as he tried not to shoot his friend who was rolling around on the ground with Jabril, each trying to get the gun. The third man, also still living pushed himself away from the wall and walked slowly to where the beady eyed man was, but he tripped on one of the bodies hit in the crossfire and his finger slipped on the trigger of his gun, which was pointed upwards. It hit the rope which held the chandelier above him and with a snap of rope and a shout from the man the heavy chandelier fell on him, killing him instantly. The man with the beady eyes gulped and watched, his hands shaking on the trigger of his gun as he tried not to hit his friend who was trying to hit Jabril. Finally Jabril punched him in the face and wrenching the rifle from his hands they began to roll again. In that instant a crack sounded, the crack of gunfire and both rolling men went still. Then finally Jabril rolled off the man with his rifle in his hands and pointed it at the beady eyed man, motioning towards the door. The man didn’t hesitate to drop his gun and run out the door, but he wasn’t 10ft away from the saloon when a red haired demon flew down upon him and snatched him off the ground. Jabril couldn’t see anything but blood splattered onto the snow covered ground, not leaving much to the imagination of what had happened to him.

Tamashka having had her fill from him dropped him to the ground and flew with a full stomach to perch like a vulture from hell on the ledge of a building. She had just done away with her son and her daughter would soon be finished off so she was pretty content tonight.

Jabril having seen this cautiously walked out of the saloon through the window while the wife cleaned her claws and into the shadows and had started to run in the opposite direction when all of a sudden the full moon came out from behind a cloud above and shone on him. He stopped dead in his tracks as a sudden ripping pain spread throughout his body, sending him staggering into the wall next to him.

“Noooo,” he moaned in pain as hair began to form on his face and forearms. His eyes changed as they fixed on the moon from a sky blue into a monstrous yellow. He clutched his face as it began to elongate into a snout while cat the same time his fingers grew longer and grew hair along with two inch long nails. Then throughout his body thick muscles forming on him split his shirt and pants into pieces of cloth, hanging off him. His legs grew larger and were full of solid muscle for springing as his feet began to lift up to be able to stand on his hind toes. Jabril collapsed to the ground in agonizing pain as his lungs expanded and his heart became bigger to push the blood through his veins. Finally hair covered the rest of his body and when Jabril finally rose again, he was not himself.

He looked around and smelling fresh blood his wolf instinct immediately kicked in, he sniffed the air, his erect ears on top of his head ready to pick up the slightest noise. And right now that strongest noise was coming from somewhere above, from a creature licking itself.

With ease the lycan began to crawl up the side of the shop next to him quickly and silently. It took only a few seconds for Jabril to reach the top and when he did he instinctively went on all fours and stalked up to the ledge opposite him. He peered over like the silent hunter he was and saw the white demon cleaning her wings like a prestigious peacock with its feathers. He could smell and hear the fresh blood flowing through her veins.

Tamashka who had been in the middle of finishing checking herself for any scratches that bitch of a slayer had left on her heard a soft thump at the back her and turned her head around, but seeing nothing made a soft growl and resumed what she had been doing. It was her fatal mistake as the wolf crouched directly beneath her pounced. Tamashka heard the snarl and in panic tried to take flight but Jabril had captured her. With claws digging into her sides Tamashka was earthbound. Tamashka was more terrified now than she had ever been in her immortal life. She knew what her husband’s werewolves did to his previous brides. She’d seen the last wife, ripped to bloody pieces, that was not going to happen to her! Viciously Tamashka turned on him screaming in rage. She dug her nails in, clawed and bit, spit and hissed, tried to choke him with her tail but to no avail the beast still held on. He opened his mouth and clamped his fangs on her arms, taking a chunk out of it. Tamashka was strong but the wolf was much stronger. He kept biting pieces of flesh off her like she was a deer and her struggling only excited him and made her weaker. Getting weaker by the second from her loss of blood that she had just gained she shrieked for help from her fellow sisters. The wolf, recognizing the call for aid took one claw and grabbed her wings, making large bloody rips in the folds of skin. Tamashka screamed in agonizing pain and tried to break free but Jabril merely ignored her petty attempts and reaching up grabbed her head and threw her effortlessly to the ground. Too full of pain Tamashka couldn’t move and she just lay there bleeding on the ground. Satisfied with his torture of one of Dracula’s wives he left her there and sensing a new target, another male he stalked off. Tamashka, her life quickly dwindling let out a mournful wail for help. She was too weak to move, her wings were in tattered pieces of skin and her tail from trying to choke him was nearly broken. Her sides were torn open and her insides were nearly on the ground, the heat of them melting the snow around her. Her breath came in shuddering gasps, her life was nearly spent. She let out one last mournful cry for help then closed her eyes.



Sitting on a ledge watching their mate taunt the slayer with his sister’s life were Simara and Caramine. Caramine was nursing the arrow wound in her shoulder inflicted by the woman with the bow. But now their master was going to make her pay so as she cleansed her wound Caramine watched the scene from the corner of her eye. He had to be quick for, in this mortal realm the sun would be here in an hour’s time and they needed to hunt before the moon sunk beneath the mountains, it was starting to lower already. Becoming bored and ready to go hunt by themselves the two demons were about to lift off when a shriek ripped through the night, a long wail that signified death. Looking at each other in fear they rose up off the ledge and with all their speed and agility headed in the direction of the sound.

They found their sister after a few minutes flight and they wailed in grief as they descended down towards her to see if she was still alive. They saw the marks all over her wings and body, the telltale footprints of a werewolf leading away from the scene. They looked at her closely and seeing she was still alive they immediately knelt beside her to help.

Just as Caramine slit her wrist she saw something out of the corner of her keen eyes a large hairy creature creeping up to her mate. She screamed warning that Dracula received.

Eyes angry and claws extended Dracula let go of the girl to face the lycan standing straight behind him, staring back with equal hatred and ferocity. Recognizing who it was Dracula laughed and said,

“So Jabril, you have finally come to contend with your master, come and let’s see what you’ve got.” Dracula was not worried; he’d broken many werewolves before. They, none of them had ever had to will to fight him. It was foolhardy to even try. Dracula stood; tail twitching like a cat waiting to pounce when without warning the girl from behind took her knife off of the ground and jumping up stabbed it into his spine. Enraged and surprised at the same time the demon turned to her, making a critical blunder. Seeing his enemy’s exposed back Jabril took his chance and attacked. He went for the lethal attack, the neck and wings. Flightless Dracula would be equally as strong as him and Jabril knew it. Just as Dracula was about to flick his tail at the girl he realized too late the running beast behind him. He turned but too delayed, the wolf jumped, driving both his back and hand claws into his wings, snapping bones, tearing flesh. Dracula roared in pain and whipping his tail up drove the spines into the wolf, but not before Jabril savaged his neck with his mouth. Dracula’s tail fell to the round and Jabril jumped off, howling in pain and bleeding like a stuck pig, but Dracula was worse. Blood surged like a river out of his neck onto the ground and with a shuddering gasp fell to the ground motionless. Jabril, injured but not life threatening managed to stand up and walking over to the massive form of his docile opposer made sure he wasn’t going to move again. Then seeing that he wasn’t lifted his head to the moon and let out a long howl, letting the night know it was his.

Rubin’s sister tried to remain as immobile as possible but the werewolf just ignored her and looking across the expanse to the other building where Rubin stood, arrow at the ready. Rubin allowed one tear to slide down his cheek as he said,

“I’m sorry, my friend.” Then he let go of the arrow, but it missed and hit Jabril in the leg, a nearly crippling hit, but not fatal enough to kill him. Jabril howled in fear at this new enemy who obviously held more power than him and bounded away on all fours, disappearing into the night.

Having revived their sister as vampires healed quickly they carried her to see what had happened during their absence. Caramine was nervous for she had seen the werewolf and her worst fears were confirmed as they alighted next to the now still body of what had once been their lover. Looking up and over to where Rubin and his sister (who had pole jumped across) stood and laying their still unconscious sister on the ground lifted off the roof with slow wing beats, hell in their eyes.

Rubin wasted no times as he grasped the hand of his sister and they jumped into a pile of hay below. The two brides shrieked and dove down after them.

Dracula who was still partially alive but fading quickly tried to reach for the motionless form of his most treasured bride. He could feel no love or grief but he felt emptier now than ever. He wanted to join his two other wives in the exhilarating task of hunting the slayers down, but his wings wouldn’t move. After a minute or so, when his world started to turn black in his vision he began to realize, what he never thought would happen was happening. He was dying. Just as he let himself go into the dark pit that awaited him he felt a tugging on his hand and a voice calling his name. He looked up into the most beautiful face he had ever seen.

Her white face surrounded by a mass of straight white hair and green burning eyes similar to his she spoke words to him. She wanted him to come with her and he could only obey. The last thing he could see before he left the earth was her face, and she was a perfect creature to him, a queen demoness, his lost mate, the lover he’d died for and had been searching for all of his life.

Queen Demoness book 1 of 5
17:59 Apr 14 2006
Times Read: 559
















~*Chapter 1*~









House of maidens August, 1745



After genuflecting with the other maiden angels, Escareliette rose up with her white silk hood over her head and followed the high priestess and left the Bell fleur cathedral. She didn’t know how she calmly did these things day after day, for the last 200 years. Silently Escareliette surveyed the realm of heaven through her burning green eyes. Her ever watchful gaze saw the various angels, male and female alike flying with broad of dove feathers. She peered all around until her eyes locked with the towering golden gates 100 yards away. Those same gates through which she had come through the night she had died. Reflecting on it, Escareliette forgot for a moment where she was, and saw the high priestess staring at her, waiting for her to follow. Escareliette smiled at the older woman, who with a nod smiled back. Then with waves of farewell to the other young maidens, Escareliette proceeded down the last of the golden carpet that trailed down the stairs.

The Bell Fleur cathedral was the biggest church in heaven, consisting of many towers which housed the bells of St. Peter, which were engraved with depictions of heroic angels driving back the forces of evil. The walls on the outside were of a rich white hue with four standing pillars at the gold, curtain draped entrance. The entrance hall inside was decorated with statues of angles with harps and long bows. There were name plates in gold on the walls, women on one side, and men on the other. But for the high priests and priestesses there was a wall they held all their own. This wall was directly at the end of the entrance hall and led into the foyer.

The inside of the church was heaven inside of walls, although such a thing was not actually possible. During her 200 years in heaven Escareliette had never known such a place. It was nice, with fountains on each side, trickling angel tear like water into basins and doves in dovecotes, along with white lilies rowing in troughs, but Escareliette always felt somehow unwelcome. Like her time on earth had been merely the sparks before the fire.

Being new in the practice of a maiden priestess, Escareliette had been tempted to let loose her tongue on the other new priestesses and the older for jesting cruelly at her and making scenes with her. More than once Escareliette had had to go to the high priestess for spiritual comfort and advice.

Cora had always been there for Escareliette through the first ten years. Teaching her how to fast properly and to be silent when addressed and to speak with wisdom, hidden by a devils silver tongue when ever challenged. She’d even shown Escareliette some of the more power and mind demanding task. Like how to part the clouds to rain or to let through the sun, to strike down trees with bolts and to let them grow from seed. One of the toughest tasks ever for Escareliette was in her 150th year when Cora had told her to lead a soul into heaven, a soul from a five year old girl. At first she had retaliated, saying why it had to be her to deny this child of further life. But her loyalty to the high priestess had eventually won her weeping mind’s decision. She’d done the job although with an aching heart and for five months after had refused Cora’s presence in her quarters. But eventually reason had settled in that, for new life, death must follow and Escareliette had learned this in her lonely hours of unrest and doubt. Cora had understood but through the rest of her years never daunted in her strange training of Escareliette. Escareliette at times had contemplated Cora’s mission for educating her in the ways only a high priestess should know, but Cora had always managed to slip out of Escareliette’s questions and avoided the subject. But nonetheless Escareliette had followed in Cora’s footsteps without further time consuming inquisitorial sentences and Cora damned her silently for it.

Cora had admired the young angel’s spirit from first kneeling beside her in prayer. Her voice was strong and confident and her mind almost perfectly untainted, she was raised well, compared to others that had arrived. Cora’s teachings at first were innocent as, at first she had not wished to damage the girl but the higher power had sensed the strong valiant and determined leading spirit that Cora had found long ago in the young woman and had chosen her for a job that Cora had begged them to withhold. But in the end she lost and for the years to follow taught her the skills and requirements that she herself had done centuries before. And after two more nights would do no more, for the rest of her immortal life. For years Cora had kept this secret for the girl for she knew the child wasn’t ready. But Escareliette was insightful and foreseeing, she knew even though she would never admit. For the first 40 years she had hellish nightmares and would make grotesque noises and clutch her night robes over her breast as though someone lay with her in her dreams. Then there was the trouble of teaching her in healing wounds both simple and complex, from flu to cancer survivors, and common tasks like collecting clouds for rain. But now that she could make it rain and create natural disasters, even bring comets from space; there was no denying she was ready. Cora knew this in her heart but her sensible mind told her Escareliette even after 200 years of trainings and teachings, emotionally was still tainted by her past as a mortal. Over the many, many years Cora had tried to release her mind from the shackles of the boy who’d taken her innocence like a demon claiming a bride. As well as power the girl had temper that could flare when provoked the right way and was headstrong. Damn the girl, she knew what she was doing and wasn’t afraid to do it when pressed to the matter. Cora sighed as Escareliette pulled up her liquid silvery pink robes to hurry to meet her. Seeing the admiration in the now young mature woman’s eyes even made Cora, as strong as she was, want to weep or to send the girl to a second life on earth. Anything other than this cursed fate about to be placed on her small shoulders. Looking at Escareliette Cora wanted to take her like the mother she’d been for her in heaven and let her release the pain she was feeling but as Escareliette descended the cathedral stairs she smiled warmly instead.

When they finally meet Cora bent her gray head and Escareliette stood up to place a kiss on her cheek. It was a symbol of close friendship, one that many of the other lady angels shared.

The men had a thing they shared as well, usually a game of archery as was popular in heaven. Resulting on occasion arguments, but nothing a confession or prayer couldn’t cure.

After greetings were exchanged between the two old friends they continued down the cobbled street. Sometimes they would walk from afternoon mass silently, bathing in, as Cora would say, the warmth of God, but, Escareliette felt no warmth although she never said it. But instead of silence Cora decided to strike up a subject to liven up her apprentice’s spirits. The girl seemed distant lately and Cora feared she was having those dreams again. Such a thing would be unwanted, especially now with her fate so near at hand.

“How is your garden lately my dear? Has it grown since I last seen it?”

Most angels had elaborate backyards or rather soothing Edens to relax and spend their free times in peace and solitude. Among the tranquility and beauty Escareliette had often found times to confide in her angiosperms and gymnosperms, in other words flowers and trees. She loved to lay her weary body, sometimes in the nude, on her flat rock in the middle of her mini pond in which her garden waterfall flowed. She would dip her nails in and let the tiny goldfish and Japanese Fighter fish nibble on her fingers. Escareliette tended to her garden with all the love and devotion of a young mother, doting explicitly on her child. She daily snipped some red roses and placed them in a vase on her bedroom nightstand.

Dwelling on these memories Escareliette said while pulling her hood closer over her face,

“Well it seems that my favorite lilies aren’t getting enough sun, they’re wilting slightly.”

Escareliette knew that Cora would see right through this and wasn’t surprised when she shook her head. Escareliette picked precariously at the hem of her gown sleeve. She had a light pink gossamer skirt that swept past her feet, dark fuchsia at the bottom and turning lighter at the waistline. The skirt was cut off by a golden belt hewn into it. The shirt rippled in a sea of pink elegance as she walked, with golden hoops on her bare arms attached with folds of cloth like pink silken wings draping at her sides. Walking beside the high priestess and diverting her eyes on a young child angel turned her interest on the golden chain that hung around her slender pale neck. The thickly linked chain disappeared into the low bodice of her top, resting securely between her ample breasts. The bodice was also hemmed with gold as was the bottom of the top which was above her bellybutton. It was slightly provocative but with Cora’s approval and secretive sinful ideas no one contradicted or tried to deflower Escareliette. But Escareliette knew one thing, if they knew what hung on the end of her necklace she would be sent to the devil.

It was a pure black cross with red rubies and an inscription on the back which said in English

‘Lust, death, blood and endless nights.’

Such words and their meaning were a small part of what the Devil stood for but it was enough. Closing her eyes Escareliette lightly touched her bodice where it lay and gave an involuntary shudder. She never took it off, for it had been given to her as a love gift from the young man who’d taken her virginity. She would never forget the night of uncontrolled passion and desire between them, but those were private memories, memories she wouldn’t even discuss with Cora, she couldn’t possibly understand. He had made her feel like she controlled him and that she held a power that she had never felt. Letting the moment pass Escareliette looked to Cora.

Cora was beautiful. She had an olive tone complexion and was of considerable stature. Her hair was gray with white streaks and her eyes held fierce anger to those she distrusted yet were kind and motherly to Escareliette. She had high cheekbones and they showed dimples when she smiled. Cora had a smile that could light up an entire room.

Cora had been born in Athens, Greece. She was one of the daughters of a soldier that served Agamemnon. Her father had died in the battle of Troy when Troy was finally taken. She had lived in Troy for seven years where she had married a son of a strange land far away. Escareliette never found out whom, because Cora never said. During her marriage Cora had one son until she had miscarried on her second child and could have no more. She then had traveled to his homeland with him when a war had broken out and had made a home with him there. Her son had grown up and married and she had grown old. She lost her husband at 50 and with her son gone she was alone. Then suddenly two years after her son had moved away he disappeared. Cora had never spoken of what had happened to him, but with his disappearance she had gotten frail without love and had faded away until she’d died. Because of her kindness and Christian heart she had come to heaven and had been taught as Escareliette was being taught to be a powerful priestess.

Cora’s hands were the very essence of life, they had borne children when mothers on earth were in dire need and led countless souls into heaven, including Escareliette’s. She had defeated demons and haunts, evil beings that were so feared their names weren’t spoken aloud.

Cora’s slender old but strong form allowed for the light yellow butter colored dress she was wearing. Dark yellow then turning light like Escareliette’s Cora was like a much older twin, for the exception that she was much taller. It had a belt like Escareliette’s at the waist, ending off the skirt and her top ending at her waist as well. For her age of 50 Cora was a tough old bird as Escareliette had referred to her once, she still had a firm bosom and a humor. She also had spunk which Escareliette found rather funny, she wasn’t afraid to let people know who she was, she was rather good natured. She had great insight and wisdom, often telling Escareliette the differences between the rights and wrongs of mortal beings and even angels, telling reasons why they did them. She was a firm believer in the truth and took no lies. All in all she was a magnificent woman.

Fixing her eyes on Escareliette Cora fixed the strap on her arm and saw the look of inner trouble. Putting her soft hand on Escareliette’s shoulder she said,

“I know my dear that your soul is troubled, but you’ll get over it like you did before. You are strong and I believe you will pass the cloud that shrouds your heart in darkness.”

Escareliette was silent as they passed at last through the gates at the entrance to the House of Maidens. She shivered involuntarily and pulled her silver hood closer to her face and clutched the folds of her silver cloak to her body as they passed underneath the cupids standing atop the chiseled brick pillars. They seemed to stare at her with accusing eyes. They were symbols, guarding the women within whilst keeping demonic intruders out. Escareliette always found herself trapped when she passed through these beautiful gates. She felt they were accusing her of malignant deeds and sinful thoughts only Lucifer’s mistresses would dare to think of.

Closing her eyes Escareliette cleared her conscience of these anger stirring harpies. They were flapping and screaming in her ears, trying to provoke the darkness longing to break free inside her.

Once past the gates Escareliette pulled down her hood and shook loose her wild silk mane of black hair which swept down her back in satin lengths. Escareliette smoothed out her rumpled silver cloak and consciously tugged at her low drooping bodice.

Cora looked over at her and smiled, seeing into Escareliette’s still young mind. She saw the angel’s eyes sweep through the gardens of the huge building and all around and knew what she was thinking.

“He’s on duty today dear so you won’t have to worry about him staring at your bosom and telling himself that God will always forgive him. He’s older than you, but he is a pleasant man and needs a wife. I don’t think he even married on earth, poor soul. He’s lonely and longing for company.

Escareliette blushed, knowing full well what Cora was hinting at and what company meant. She would never marry that man, she didn’t trust him, he was corrupt and everything she didn’t want in a life partner. So being brave today she said,

“I don’t really care what David does as long as he keeps his adulterous eyes to himself and stays away from me. If not I’ll have to take his eyes out of his head.” Escareliette put up her head proudly and confidently as they entered the shade of the overhanging outdoor porch roof.

Cora chuckled,

“You do that dear, but be discrete about it.”

Both women laughed. Escareliette loved Cora like her own mother. She could confide things in Cora that she could never tell any other angel, even god, though he knew. Cora could make her laugh when all she wanted to do was cry like a spoilt and abandoned child. Over her years Escareliette had learned many things, but there was time to laugh.

Instead of going to the usual open air porch the women walked beneath the overhang which went across the whole building and looked at flora along the way. Cora stopped and picked a yellow rose and holding it to her nose enveloped herself in its heavenly scent. Seeing her favorite flower Escareliette picked it from its bush, accidentally pricking her small finger in the process. Immediately trying to hide her dark, nearly black blood Escareliette slipped her index finger between her lips and shamefully savored the tangy taste of blood.

Cora made herself ignore this action and instead picked upon a less worrisome subject.

“Why a red rose my dear? Does the color make you feel a certain something that’s special? For besides evil and lust the red rose can symbolize undying love.”

Again Escareliette blushed, Cora having seen through her again. Whenever she did that it unnerved her, making her think that even her most well hidden secret thoughts and desires were like a book for her mentor to read. Finally gaining her courage again Escareliette said,

“Yes adulterous love, but true love yes it can portray it, though it’s usually an old trick that men use to fool women into love.”

Amused Cora felt the slight spike of anger emitted from her pupil’s lips and decided to explore this trick.

“Tell me my friend what is it?”

Thinking for a moment Escareliette hesitated but with a nod from Cora began to explain,

“Well men just simply put wax on the rose petals and hold their rose out in the hottest part of the fire, the blue Flame and say their lover’s name. If the rose doesn’t burn then they truly do love them, but it’s all a bunch of tomfoolery to me.”

“Can it ever be true love and not some folly man’s joke to bed a woman Escareliette? Did you ever consider the words from men’s lips to be true in any circumstance? Do not judge the world of men so harshly my dear. They are God’s children and like children are easily mislead and often do not listen. That is why we exist, to help lead the men, those that do something good in their lives without selfishness into heaven. But then again most men are cheaters and liars that is why most end up in hell.”

Escareliette nodded taking in Cora’s words while suppressing a smile,

“Oh yes I agree my high priestess,” she said respectfully and humbly.

Cora looked at Escareliette’s nearly shamed expression and said,

“I wasn’t being serious you know to intimidate you and make you feel small, I was being cynical in a way.”

“Oh, oh!” Escareliette put her hand over her mouth as fits of laughter escaped her lips and as Cora looked over at her she couldn’t resist a chuckle.

With Escareliette still giggling like a child they seated themselves on a white iron bench in the backyard garden.

The backyard garden consisted of fields of colored wildflowers stretched 30ft from them until guarded by tall willows, their long tendrils of moss covered leaves waving in the wind, beyond that stood a high iron fence. Behind that fence was where the priests, or rather, men who died with little sin, (as sin was hard to avoid), dwelled. No one entered heaven without at least two sins committed.

Escareliette herself had entered through St. Peter’s Gates with her own sin, but it was too complicated and ancient to get into now so she just pushed it aside and enjoyed the sounds of the earth’s wonders here in heaven. This, like her garden, was an oasis.

Behind them, bubbling with crystal clear water from an elaborate fountain, it had 16 large bowls from which was fed by a cupid shooting love’s arrow above. The water spouted from the arrow’s tip and the water flowed to the second level of which stone birds bathed. On the fourth level, humans bathed, tiny stone figurines and on the sixth level, magical creatures of myth like unicorns, nymphs and fairies. On the eighth were normal mammals like bears lying with sheep and lions. The other stone basins contained every other creature imaginable but the last was the most beautiful of all. It was so large that it formed a small pond behind them fed by smaller waterfalls on each side. Little fish of coral reefs like butterfly fish and sunfish swam in its two foot depths, their scales glinting in the sunlight, making the water dance with color.

Escareliette sat sideways with one of her legs tucked up beneath her, staring at the fountain. How many days after her arrival had she fled to this quiet place and hidden in the bottom well of this fountain to avoid penance for being disobedient? And how many times had Cora, ever understanding, come and held her while she cried?

In truth Escareliette hadn’t wanted to die. She’d always felt that her life had been stolen before her time. Cora had told her that every soul was taken for a reason. That each soul had a designated time before it was even created when it was to die. But, still, she had never been told hers. Even though her heart longed to know the truth, the way Cora looked at her every time she asked made her afraid to know. Cora was hiding something from her there was no doubt, but Escareliette would wait, even though that wait had dwelled on her mind for the last 200 years. But, then again, Cora had her reasons for every secret she kept.

There had been one time where she had kept something behind a locked door on her separate wing in the House of Maidens. Escareliette, being the nosy, innocent, disobeying pupil that she was had snuck in during the nighttime and come face to face with some kind of demon. Escareliette would have died had it not been for Cora hearing her scream and dragged her out in time, just as the creature had extended it’s claws and was about to leap. But Cora had forgiven Escareliette’s stupidity on the promise that she would never do it again, and since then Escareliette never had, she knew better than to pry into Cora’s enigmas.

Closing her eyes Escareliette took in all the sounds around her, the sounds of the doves cooing in the dovecotes, the trickling of the blessed water from the fountain, the chattering of the women in the great house behind her.

Cora saw Escareliette calm peace and in her heart knew that that would soon be shattered. She would have to tell her soon, but the thought of how her eyes would grow cold as hers had made her wish there was any other way. But God had told her, as did her heart that this was the only way to save her soul. As was predicted the male child in the prophecy had fallen to darkness and to live had given his soul to the devil in exchange for immortality. He had done this for Escareliette so that he might bring her back to him. Hell would be blessed if Cora was going to allow this poor child fall into the claws of evil. Cora knew the child’s soul was already corrupted, if something done to remedy that problem or if something devastating happened her soul would be lost. Cora looked over at Escareliette and smiled. The girl was off the bench as usual and was feeding the seeds to the doves while she waded, knee deep in the fountain pond. The sun shone clearly above and the reflection of it on Escareliette bathed her in a strange light. Cora nearly jumped for a moment, thinking her eyes were deceiving her for she appeared a fallen angel, the most powerful of the damned.

She had white hair with a pure white body. Red cloth hung like a bodice, holding and covering her breasts, showing much of her creamy skin and a red loincloth like strip between her muscular thighs. A long rail accented with black spikes and a red devil triple tipped point. She had long black nails and her eyes were burning with red fire. Her lips pulled back in a sinister hiss and her long pointed equally were pinned to her head. Cora could see in her mouth long sharp canines. Her wings were spread out behind her, thick muscled white wings with five tips, each about fourteen feet long. And in this image Escareliette said in an evil, echoing voice,

“What’s wrong Cora?”

Cora shook her head to bring her out of her frightening dream. Was it an episode of foresight? Cora could see things in the future, but, no it wasn’t possible. For a moment, lost in her own thoughts Cora couldn’t speak, she was so startled and frightened. All she could see was Escareliette as a breathtaking demon of terror.

Escareliette was really worried, Cora was acting strangely. She had been distant a few times before. Like she was immersed deeply in whatever was probing her mind lately. But of all those times this was the worst. Cora, who was usually calm and beautiful and all order was now shaking and appeared old and frail. She looked at Escareliette like she was some demon raised from hell. Escareliette quickly got out of the water and ran to her mentor. Cora was breathing hard and her eyes were wide and frightened. Equally as scared now Escareliette took her high priestess’s hand and felt the iciness of it.

Cora shied away from Escareliette, all she could see was a creature whose species name she dared not utter in heaven coming towards her and trying to kill her. She shuddered as it took her hand and a chill spread from her hand, up her arm and seized her heart, encasing it in a blanket of everything heaven feared, evil without boundary. Cora gasped as she struggled for air with the penetrating cold of Escareliette’s touch seeping into her lungs. It was impossible for an angel to die but something was terrifyingly different about this feeling that now had Cora trapped in such a fear as she had never known. She could see the fire burning in Escareliette’s eyes as she laughed silently at her pain. Cora struggled, trying to remove Escareliette’s hand from hers but the demon merely smirked and gripped harder. Finally her strength diminished by such a small movement Cora gave one last gasp and closing her eyes, grew docile in the bench.

Escareliette immediately knew something was wrong by the way Cora had recoiled from her, fear had clutched her heart and her throat had gone dry. Then when Cora had closed her eyes in a grimace of pain, Escareliette panicked. She shook Cora saying through tears that quickly flooded her face,

“Cora! Cora, wake up! Please, please wake up! Don’t leave me here,” she whispered not knowing why. She tried to thought speak to Cora, but she wasn’t to that part of her training yet. Realizing there was nothing she could do Escareliette began to cry. Some angels walking nearby saw the young woman holding the high priestess’s limp hand and seeing the evident distress ran over to see what had happened. Two went to get the high priest, Cora’s life partner, while the other one picked up Escareliette and holding her tried to comfort her the second checked on Cora’s pulse although such things were useless anyway. Silently staring at the high priestess and realizing there was nothing that could be done the young girl, no more than 13 began to cry silently. Escareliette heard the young maiden’s helplessness and slowly her own vision blurred through her tears. Slowly her vision faded and before any of them knew it Escareliette had fallen to her knees and slumped to the ground incoherent of anything around her.

Someone who was passing by on the other side of the fence saw Escareliette fall and reacting instantly jumped over it and ran to catch her just before she fell completely to the ground. Escareliette was too dizzy to see who it was and the last thing she saw were two brown eyes looking down at her before she completely lost consciousness.





Several hours later Escareliette opened her eyes, which at first wouldn’t open. They felt glued shut, like she’d been crying in her sleep and her tears had sealed them. Something in the pit of her stomach, as cold foreboding feeling had woken her, warning, as though something had gone terribly wrong during her absence. Dwelling upon this strong feeling of fear and premonition Escareliette drew her upper body up against the headboard of her large bed. She felt as though her body over her restless hours had grown weak and her head pounded like war drums. Her bones ached as she lifted her hand to her head to feel the heat burning on her skin.

Struggling to see through the slits of her eyes Escareliette gripped the golden sheets around her and feebly pulled them off. The cold shock of the room immediately struck her and it felt as though a thousand knives were piercing her body. She gasped and summoning her strength planted her feet on the cold carpet of her room. Feeling helpless as she imperceptibly tried to feel around her like a blind child Escareliette allowed a tear to slide down her cheek. A sense of weakness welled up inside her as she wobbled trying to move her legs, like a child learning to move for the first time. Just like her first day here. Fretfully Escareliette finally managed to stand but her weak legs gave out and with a half scream had to catch hold of one of her bedposts holding up the canopy above her bed. She was as weak as the first day she had arrived, the night she’d died. In her lack of self confidence Escareliette began to cry, but a voice in her head said to her, ‘Crying, my dear, will do nothing to solve our problems, merely add rain to an already dreary day,’ Hearing the voice of her friend Escareliette lifted her leaden head with the words still running through her mind and through her still imperceptive eyes she began to slowly feel around and walk. She couldn’t see where she was going and her hands touched something. She felt the smooth, cold, hard surface of the water jug on her dresser. Quickly grasping the handle Escareliette picked it up and raising it above her head dipped the spout towards her face and gasped when the spray of the luke warm water reacted with her cold skin. Spitting out water Escareliette channeled her will and with a grimace forced her eyes open. At first her vision was blurred and incoherent, but when she could perceive what was around her she wanted to close her eyes again.

The room was unnaturally bright, so bright that her eyes burned with the florescence of it. There was too much gold, too much! The white blinded her, hurt her so badly. With a scream of fear and claustrophobia from the room Escareliette scrambled and tripped on her nightgown as she fled to the closest exit. Ripping the golden sheer material aside Escareliette escaped into the cool night. Her lungs fought for the cold oxygen of the earth as her eyes searched the sky, for what? What did she expect to see? Escareliette felt strange, like she was here, yet wasn’t. Trying to rid her mind of the feeling and thinking more clearly now that the room no longer choked her senses Escareliette walked to the wall that surrounded her balcony and looked out over. She saw the vast expanse of cloud and starless sky. Starless sky? What world had no stars to fly amongst? Shaking her head Escareliette closed her eyes then opened them again. She had no memory of what had just happened, she looked around and seeing where she was wondered, ‘how did I get out here? The last thing I remember is being in bed.’ Escareliette frowned, trying to recall, but instead another memory filled her, filled her with fear. Cora! In a panic she ran for the room, but a sudden wind like the devil’s own breath knocked her down like a rag doll. But with a sudden strength such as Escareliette had never felt rose up within her, flowed through her body, made her stand and walk against the wind through her balcony doors and against the galling caustic wind closed them to. Breathing hard to calm herself down Escareliette had to think for a moment to remember why she had ran in here in such a hurry, then Cora flashed in her mind and again she ran for the door and into the hall.

The hall was dark save for a few torches among the walls and was eerily silent, almost deathly silent. There was no one to be seen which was unusual because there was always someone out walking about visiting. Escareliette heard a creak and whipped her head around only to see that her door, which had been open, was now closed. She looked around her at the paintings on the walls and for a brief moment thought that the angels in the paintings were scowling at her and laughing. The paintings on the ceiling of angel babes laughed at her as they pointed arrows and accusing fingers as though they knew her fear and her guilt. Frightened by these images Escareliette began to run through the deserted hallway. She dashed past other angels’ rooms. As she passed with a speed not her own, the torches on the walls extinguished. Wind whistled through the stained glass windows which blew open as she passed. Howling voices, carried on the wind, chased her as she ran. As she scurried she felt as though the walls were closing in on her making her claustrophobic. Something in her heart, which aided her speed, told her that some vital part of her world was fading quickly and her fear was proven correct as she finally made it to Cora’s wing of the house.

As she slowed down and approached everyone was silent. A transparent veil of grief seemed to enshroud the women in an opaque light. Most were red eyed and had their faces hidden by scars in a respect that disturbed her. It was as if …no. The thought that anything terrible had happened to Cora was unfathomable. Escareliette didn’t even hear the whispers or see the looks of malevolence that the other young priestesses gave her. She knocked them out of the way frantically to reach the door. One of the women tried to stop her, but a look that would make saints tremble made her back off. Quickly, Escareliette through the double doors open and raced inside.

At first, upon entering she was shocked to find it so dark and foreboding. It was as if the angel of death were to appear at any moment. The candles set all around were very low but the room was hot and stifling. Escareliette’s clothing nearly stuck to her. Everything seemed to be different. In the ambiguous state of room even the fire place was as though hell himself were to come and steal the soul of whoever was inside. Taking in all the surroundings about her Escareliette finally spied the bed against the wall. As she walked closer, recollections of entering this once bright room to learn things from Cora flooded her mind. Abruptly she brought herself back out of the memory as she approached the golden laced curtains draped about the bed posts, shielding whoever was inside from prying eyes. When she pulled the curtains open she saw a spectacle never before witnessed or experienced. Never in almost 20 000 years had and angel died, save for the devil, who had fallen from heaven for unspeakable deeds and was now the ruler of hell. And now it appeared to Escareliette that the same thing, although in a different situation was again about to happen.

But not Cora! Sweet, kind Cora, one of the only friends Escareliette had ever had during her time here. Without her Escareliette would surely fall to the demons who had haunted her these last 200 years. Tears began to fill her eyes when a horse voice filtered through the faint glow.

“Hush up Escareliette; don’t you ever obey what I tell you?” In a flash, practically drawn by a chain to the voice, Escareliette kneeled to the side of her mentor and placed her head on her friend’s hand. Cora, up to her chest in a golden silk comforter, was truly failing. Instead of the proud demeanor on which she held herself, her head and back were supported by numerous pillows and cushions. And her face was drawn and wrinkled like an old woman’s. Her hands were cracked and her veins could be seen in them along with her face and her visible neck. Her once gray hair was now pure white and appeared brittle. Her eyes had faded and with a horrid feeling Escareliette realized Cora had gone blind. How could this be? Cora, who was so strong, who’d mothered her into a new life, now frail? Without her Escareliette would have no sense of belonging here, no backbone. If Cora died she would be left with a sense of emptiness so deep and painful that every minute spent in this place would eventually choke her. Cora, as though sensing her pupil’s distress and feeling her eyes upon her said, “Oh stop staring child I still have time.” Her voice startled Escareliette.

“Time?” Escareliette said confused.

“Time to tell you the truth.” Cora coughed and closed her misty eyes. Escareliette turned pale and suddenly Cora grabbed her.

“Escareliette, my time is up and it’s up to you now.”

“U-up to me?”

“Up to you to decide your place in your world’s fate in your war to come.”

“My war?” Escareliette said confused.

“I hadn’t realized it. I was so naïve in thinking that taking you would make a difference, would prevent the future.” Escareliette’s head was swimming with questions, but Cora hacked and blood seeped through her fingers where she touched her. “You have the power now child, I gave it to you. Use it to save yourself and what you believe in.” She gasped and her breath caught. “It’s all a lie Escareliette. All of it. Lies. I meant to tell you when you had reached you tenth year as high priestess, but time and fate has come quicker than prophesized. Escareliette’s eyes were wide and tears trickled down her face at Cora’s words. She wanted to shout at Cora to explain but at that moment the life in Cora’s hand clenched on her arm was gone. In horrible flashes Escareliette watched as Cora’s hand fell to the bed lifeless. She was dead. Escareliette, for a while just kneeled there stunned. She couldn’t register what had just happened. What prophecy? Lies? What was a lie? What was going on and why was it happening?

But nothing else went through Escareliette’s fuddled brain as she began to shake from the pure weakness of the pain and shock. Slowly she slumped to the floor and knew no more.