Crimson (Prequel; Divinity Crisis Triology)

Chapter Four: Old Friend

          “Hey Jerold, it's been a while” A girl said running her finger through his shoulder as she walked around him, “You don't call, you don't text unless it's business... who's unfortunate to top your naughty list?” She added with a smile and a wink.
“Did you bring what I asked?” He replied ignoring her question.
“Straight to business I see... what about our little old play time?” She giggled with a tender full eye glare, her hands softly by his neck.
“Kathryn! the blade” He commanded. She glided along, through his front yard and into his house, completely ignoring his request.
“Be before we get into that” She paused as she unbuttoned his shirt slowly, whilst looking fixedly at him.
“There's no... hell's loose, its prince of walks among us” He growled, holding her hands forcefully, away from his body.
“Where's the fun Jerold? the one with the jokes?” She scoffed and stalked around him, “You know, the one that flirts, that's sexy” She squinted with a seductive smile, “The one that loves with his whole being” She whispered into his ears with tempting intensions, she stood few inches below him, and he could perceive the scents of her soft but hypnotic fragrance, it was as she was... soft, with a gentle persuasion.
“The one that loved with his whole being” He thought, mimicking her voice in his mind, as she whispered – continuously, her comforting words in his ears.
“Where has that gotten me?” He asked himself, obviously away from Cherry, away from Paul and he would be risking his sister's life by just one visit.
He did truly love wholeheartedly and with not a fear in the world; romance meant to last just a while, lasts more with him, he wasn't the embodiment of the desire, he wasn't a knight in shining armour, or a keen werewolf that only a strong loving woman could purify.
If anything, he was rather too blissful, too comedic to purify; but what he lacked in charm, in strength, and in darkness, he had in desire, he had in thrills. He had in his eyes, comfort and delight. He did spark bliss in the hearts of all closest to him, with flattering words and attention.
He was all Cherry’s, he lived for her, loved her, until she wasn't, and then came Kathryn.
She never knew true and heightened passion before him, he broke her free from the shackles of decency and virtue, with him she experienced intense raw pleasure, rapturing and intoxicating, in his arms was her inhibition lowered, partaking in his complexity, his appeal that had with it a touch of thrill, a touch of danger(as he was a renowned hunter).
She felt like a woman with him, his words, his gentle briskly touch, and the desire for all of her that was in his eyes. He gave himself up, he was hers to the fullest and she in turn did.
Until she didn't.
She feared she was merely a distraction, that he turned to the closest maybe weakest or vulnerable after Cherry had tossed him to the ruins. She believed he turned to her to seduce and enthral, to feel like a man again, to maybe strengthen his ego, but in actuality... She was wrong.
Reality was that he was truly and fully ruled by love, by its mystery, its allure, magic and eccentricity, he knew love would assure comfort, he knew love would assure bliss, so he never did shut love down. Though he loved Cherry, though he did miss her, he sought a better future with Kathryn.
And then there wasn't any.
He lifted her up by her thighs and caressed her lips with his, he kissed her deeply as he made his way to his upper room, the room he calls his sanctum sanctorum, where he allowed nought but peace and bliss, the room reserved for himself and his thoughts and pleasure.
He fell slowly on the soft bed, the foam squeezed softly on his back and the pillow hugged his hair with warmth, it was cold and felt like a soaking wet cotton on his body, the air was filled with her fragrance and also the smell of the manliness of his chambers, the scotch, the cloths, and everything else that united to create one keen savour, unnoticeable but also a big part of the night.
She sat on his thighs hurriedly, gazing into his eyes passionately as she let out silent moan, she could feel her heartbeat racing like an unstoppable Cheetah, and he could feel her jitters, or rather excitement on him as she shivered in his grip.
She went in for more, she wanted more, she desired more, she kissed him continuously as his hands roamed through her skin, her tender, mild skin, she tore him from the covers off his shirt and lowered his back on the bed, her cold hands massaging his broad and a little hairy chest.
She kissed him, she bit his lips softly, she kissed his cheeks, his lower lip, his jaw, his neck, his chest and then back to his lips. Her hands lingered around his trousers; unhooking, unzipping, and undressing.
She tossed the pants to the end of the room and slipped her hands into his shorts and he gasped as she held his being in her cold soft and yet rough hands, forcing back in his deep breaths.
The night was warmly cold, the wind, the whispering savour of the night, forcing, fighting, begging to be reckoned with even as the schemes of the night eluded the minds of all as he and her were catapulted into a paradise.
A paradise of desire, of ease, freedom, a paradise where breathlessness was a good thing.
Her touch, her caresses took his breath away, on and over again.
The room was large but he felt like there was not much oxygen to go round. His excitement was magnified with each touch,, each glare and as she removed him from his undergarments and planted narrow lines of kisses from his neck to his chest, to his bellybutton, and then below.
He sat up, he slammed her a little hard on the bed, he held her hands to her sides and kissed her, his tongue and lips allies.
She could taste the scotch in his lips, along with the grape and his desire.
He slipped his hands into her tan coloured blouse and fondled with wholeness of the underneath, he ripped off her blouse, he moved her easily on the bed, unhooked her underclothes and laid sweet and soft kisses on her upper chest and then lower, she stretched to him for a kiss but he brushed her off.
He felt her excitement, her impatience, two feelings that together was thrilling and could only magnify desire.
He wanted things slow, he wanted her to feel the rush, he wanted her to be the rush, not be in a rush, not fast, he wanted to control the pace and have her relaxed.
She went in for a kiss again and it fell clumsily on his cheek, he held her hips and rid it of her short wavering skirt and the black long and tight leggings.
He uncovered her, fully, wholly and as he glowered on her bare and beautiful natural body, her light smooth skin, her erect nipples, her slender waist and her full thighs, he kissed her around her face, avoiding her lips, she would giggle and reach for him but he would pull away, she tried to release herself from his grip but couldn't, she loathe his games, his teases, and the more she wanted the less he gave.
She sighed as she moaned, lying on the bed, desiring his lips on hers and in more delicate parts of her body, she tried to ease him into want she yearned but he was unwilling, his teases only amplified her desire; as he wanted, and she was filled with desire, intense and dark.
“Lay back and relax” He whispered in her ears softly, holding back her hands; she lowered herself, her strength and then did he plant narrow lines of kisses down her neck, and then below; he kissed her upper body, he teased her nipples with his tongue and narrowly down to her bellybutton, now was she free, she submitted herself to his touch, his caresses and as her tender eyes begged for more as she lay obediently and still on the bed, he wobbled his tongue down to her waist, his hands running around her stiffened thighs.
She clutch tightly his hair and blushed to the mild waves of tingles, he slowly slid between her legs and his tongue paced around her ticklish and sensitive body, she gripped his hair tighter and gasped to the rhythm of glee all through her body, nerves stretched, her body shivered uncontrollably, her breath broke, in utter pleasure, her eyes closed shut without her consent.
She felt all her body slowly light up, the unending rush and the waves sensations she felt, that grip her thoughts, her nerves and her being, the melodic itch up her spine, his leathery tongue that commanded her body, that commanded her thoughts, that ensured her submission, and as she laid taking in every last brush of ecstasy, unwilling and unable to hold herself back as she shook her head in pleasure and acceptance, as she leaped in excitement, melodizing words of affirmation, smiling, blushing from ear to ear.


          Meanwhile the news of the death of Qin got to the ears of the mystery man, and his senses warned him of the danger to come
He sat on his golden coloured thrown, with it's artistic and archaic carvings, he gazed at his followers, his army and he sighed in disappointment.
They were men, able looking men, built and fierce looking men but within them laid cowardice, the sort of weakness he would never entertain, he believed them to have killed Qin, though they didn’t deliver the final swing, they were much of a factor that couldn't be overlooked.
Their weakness, their disabilities, their faintheartedness; they were unable to take on a human, a mortal.
The more he gazed at them as they were, waiting for his utterance, the more he was enraged, like a little smoke, slowly transforming into wild fire.
“I'd need a much deadlier legion” He thought out loud, stroking his beard slowly and softly.
“Sire?” One of them asked, as he didn't pick up what he had said.
He looked up at him villainously, “How dare this peasant” He thought, his face expressing his thoughts,
He was enraged by the audacity and he couldn't stand their cowardice, in their eyes, all he could see was them, bested by a mortal weakling, he was disgusted.
He waved his hand at him, as if to insinuate “Get out”, and immediately he vanished, leaving behind dark smoke that was his essence, his being.
He was dead.
He looked to the others as they gasped in shock, terrified.
“looks like I made a mistake bringing you lot here!” He frowned as he rose from the comfort of his thrown, adjusting his jacket and tie, “It's not easy!! to open the doors of hell... I did that cause I thought maybe, just maybe you'd be stronger in your own skin, not possessing a worthless and weak mortal” He beamed, descending from the elevated ground on which his thrown was praised.
His stare was tightened with a deep fierce grin, and his lips too gestured his wrath, “But still” He exhaled, “You          guys          are          weak!” He waved his hand, and other vanished.
Dead.
“You couldn’t kill a bloody! Mortal?” He snapped his fingers and another two men gasped into nothingness.
As he continued, his followers grew terribly terrified, they were unsteady, startled at the raw power of their masters, they thoughts bite at them and their being shivered like a ill child.
They couldn't run, as their being was crafted in a way as to ensure total submission to the will of the higher hierarchy.
“Now I'd need to reopen the gates of hell” He said, snapping his fingers, and the sequence continued.
He paused, he surveyed the room, the survivors were wrapped in fear and trembling, powerless against their master.
He considered mercy, to make them learn from their mistakes, maybe now they would be more heartless, more ruthless and yield to his every command,
But then he thought of the difficulty, opening the gates of hell, crawling in and out of hell, avoiding the grasp of the lost king, trapped forever in perdition, turning the heart of the people from Lucifer to him, turning the hearts of the warriors of hell from father to son.
He was as the weak and normal demons compared to Lucifer, he'd die at just the breath of the king of hell, the Archangel, the first born.
He growled and snapped his fingers, and the twice more, and then once more, and he paused out let out distinct smile, and then he killed again.
He gazed at the man standing alone seemingly unafraid and vigilant but still, faceless, as though he had become one with his fate.
“Belphegor, tonight;          we descend into hell”.


          Kathryn laid her head on his chest and ran finger along his body. She was quiet now, she was whole, she had gotten him and she didn't want to let him go, she didn't want the amazing night to be over, not just yet.
“We aren't gonna cuddle all night, are we?” He asked looking upwards, away from her prying eyes, she followed his eyes with hers, she wanted to stare into them softly, to know if that was what he actually wanted.
She knew what she wanted, she wanted to lay with the man she loved, to find safety in his arms of the man she had let go, the man who just wanted to love her, to heal together.
She had hoped he might forgive her, for abandoning him, for the hurtful words she had said in the past, though sensible at the time, wasn't anymore.
She left, she broke him some more, cut the knife a little deeper, exacerbated his pain by coming back few times for intense pleasure that she couldn't find with any normal man.
He accepted her because he cared, because he loved too deep, and she used his weakness, she drained his will to love, she siphoned his soul, she made him feel less, made him feel unworthy of love.
With her dead-like reaction to his touch, his kiss, his love... her running off into the dawn whilst the laid down sleeping.
And now that he grew to indifferent to her punishment, now that he grew to be more accepting of what was happening, now he knew not to blame himself, now that she realized that he did truly love her, now that his indifference bit her deep into her heart.
Now that he had shown her how love and intensity flow in unity, now that she knew unending desire... in his arm.
She wanted more.
“Do you?” She asked tenderly as she tried to look into his eyes 
“Maybe, I'm thinking a lot about the imminent predicament”. “Plus I'd not want to ‘use you to heal’ ”
She got off the bed, grabbed her cloths and scuffled out of the room angrily
He followed behind.
“You aren't gonna grow up”.
“Grow up huh!! ‘where's the fun Jerold’;          remind you of someone?” He muttered, mimicking her voice as he gestured with similarity to her character.
“Come on, you know what I meant” She hissed.
“Actually, actually I don't!” He yelled, “Jerold be fun, Jerold don't be fun, Jerold I don't love you, Jerold I love you” He sang with a voice likened to hers, “I'm tired, Kathryn, you don't know what the hell you want!!”.
“I want you”, “I love you”.
“You said you didn't!”
“I was wrong”
“Wrong! How?”
“Never mind”
“Yeah, not a surprise, avoid the fucking! problem”
She paced the room angrily, she tried to reply but she was short of words.
“Hunting is getting intense, demon possession is on a downward spiral, they seem to be in their true bodies, ripped intact from hell” She said wearing a faceless expression as she searched through her bag, “I sense a war coming... I guess your prince of hell has a part or two to play” She added taking an item from among many, a blade, an elegant short dagger, with hundreds of carvings of letter and numbers of unknown or dead languages, there was also drawings, the most visible of all the drawings was an eye, at the end side of the blade and the beginning of the wood-like handle, the pupil of the eye was carved to seem like it stared at the wielder of the blade and a precious red stone was fitted perfectly.
“It's said to have been forged in the fiery depths of hell” She said looking at the dagger with desire in her eyes as she stretch her hands to him.
“There are hundreds of tales of the creation and use of this weapon Kathryn”.
There was a crick in the other end of the room and Jerold walked to check it out, she tried to draw his attention back to the dagger as she had an idea of what lurked in the darkness of his home.
“If it isn't Paul Barry Krepke” He said facing a tall figure that stood in the shadows.
“Jeez, cloths!!” Cherry shrugged as they both walked out from within the shadows
“I see you too James..., what's this, stake out the house of the retired” He said looking at them facelessly.
“More like kill the runaway” James grumbled.
“I want my enchanted blades back Jerold... can't just make new ones, we aren't Archangels now are we”.
“Ask nicely, maybe I'd consider”.
“I'm not asking”.
“Put some fucking cloths on dude!!” Cherry exclaimed still bothered at the sight of him.
“Firstly, this is my! home, secondly, Paul, go screw yourself, not giving you shit , thirdly, did you bring these fuckers here Kathryn” He wheeled around to where she stood, with a fading smile.
“Again, not a request... James” He signalled to James to search around.
“I think is said something of same nature as, ‘I          never          want to see you guys          again!!’ the last time we saw” He grinned at them.
“This is bigger than you and me, it's bigger than the three of us” Cherry said.
“Ohh yes, true, well said, so why not all three of you get the fuck outta my house!!” He roared angrily. He paused and smiled and said “Or I'll move you myself”.
“We don't want to hurt you” Paul assured.
“Rest assured you won't” He frowned and accelerated towards them, his face wore a vexatious grin.
“Ah ah ah, stop, just stop” He interrupted, pointing at him a black thirty-eight.
They rummaged through his mansion, and gathered the blades, his special blades, the one he and Paul only knew its origin and among it was others he had claimed in battles.
They stole it all from him, his hunting tools, his armour, his life, and all he could do was stand and watch.
They left nought but the red eye carved blade
“Paul” He called to him as they made their way out, “I          will,         come for you”.


          “What do you know about Achlys” He asked bursting through his front porch, walking fast, hard and with great wrath in his eyes.
“Get out of my house Paul” He replied shutting the door on his face and walking away.
He had heard him coming.
“Kathryn said you were after a prince of hell, why?” He said with a strong and breaking voice, knocking the door wide open.
“Ohh that, yeah, It's the matter of utmost non'ya” He said and turned to him with a broad smile.
“What?”
“None of your fucking business”
“This is bigger than us Jerold, demons walks among us, the gate of hell is opened, people are dying, hunters are dying" He beamed, gripping him tight by the collars
“What's going on here?” Hannah asked as she walked into scene of stabbing stares, raging manliness and growing violence.
“Dude here went against an enemy without a clue what or who he's up against”.
“The fuck is she”.
“Ohh, Hannah, Paul... Paul, Hannah;          my Nephilim acquaintance” He smiled at him after he had released him
“Nephilim?” He asked rhetorically walking to her slowly, staring closely at her like a book, reading meaning to her presence and what it might mean.
“You're harbouring a Nephilim, an abomination!” He grumbled angrily
“Jesus Christ!, abomination my ass”
“Before now I ignored your antics, you loved Cherry I stole her, you left, I understood so I let you go” He turned to face him, standing just few inches away from him, “You of all people know you don't leave our little old Organisation”.
“But I did”
“I let you”. “Jerold Goodings, your actions can not over looked any more”, “You're compromised” He said authoritatively, pulling out a gun from his strap and pointed it to his face.
He knocked the gun out his hands and punched him straight on his nose, he stretched his leg fast and kicked him hard on the trunk, he accelerated and dived to him like a spear in the air, hitting his shoulder hard on his trunk, and they fell over the small counter that was before where his wine and scotch stood, knocking down several bottles of drinks.
They fought amidst the counter and the shelf on which bottles of wine, scotch and others stood, standing on shattered glass, Jerold reached for The Macallan and smacked it on his face, he reached for Glen Moray and crashed it had into his shoulder, he slide under his thrown punched, gripped a broken bottle and drove it into his thighs, he fell one knee and Jerold proceeded.
He took flight, drooping his two legs on Paul's chest, and he slammed his back on the wall behind.
“Paul” He exhaled after he rolled back up to his feet, crushing the shattered bottle that was underneath his feet, “For old time sake, I'll let you live” He panted heavily, staggering to whence he rested on the wall, “I won't be merciful tomorrow... Do          not          return”.