East County was a large domain of relatively medium population, it was home to four brothers, the first settling family some hundreds of years past, after the death of the eldest brother, there came separation and three towns emerged from their disunity, but the three towns lived mostly in harmony and tolerance.
The County was mostly wet but almost never snowed, and was never too sunny and the night, ever darkest.
It was mostly trees and streams, butterflies, coyotes and bears were commonly patrolling the towns, there were four main roads that went through the town and it met at the north outskirts that led out of the town and beside these roads were trees and bushes that harboured few wild lives.
It was the town's little old forest.
The Southside that was more trees than houses, little streams flowed from there to the to the big river by the north (known to by a nickname, behind the cities), the Southside was occupied by mostly hunters, running head first into the wild as the way knew to survive, they frowned at stray wonderers as they were in more danger than they could imagine, bears, wolves and other wild beast.
The Westside of the County was also occupied by hunters, hunters that killed more than wild dogs and bears, the hunters that read in between the lines of the animal attacks and missing people.
There was among the hunters an Organisation of well trained soldiers, and they ventured into the wild at night, scaring off big cats and bears and beheading more complex creatures, vampires, werewolves, foul spirit and other reckless unnatural beings, they were more settlers and families in the west than the others.
They resided in a town, Saint Vincent.
Eastwards was the elegant erection of The Gooding’s Castle, unlike the other houses in town, no tarred road connected his house to the town.
There was a small settlement of residence in a small town called East-side.
His home was basically non-existent, it was deep in the wild shadowed by tall trees that seemed to be working with the same aim as he was, to keep his home out of sight.
The closest to a road that was by his house was the two-way boulevards far from the north and south exit of his castle, the hard blocked ground that his house stood on was mostly sandy, white and red, there was a fountain of water that rose ten feet above the ground just before the south door, and by the north side were demarcation were his cars were arranged, his BMW M5, his black Ford Shelby GT500, the BMW X5, and his black dirt bike.
There are three towns in the County with much concentration of people in the town of Saint Vincent and East-side.
The last town was only known for the large gathering of people in the big of the north close to the big river behind the cities.
There was a beach, clubhouses, hotels and motels, and more. Some call it the only true peaceful time.
He had furnished his home the day before, he swept out the shattered glass and the broken furniture.
He reminisced on the fight of the past, Paul and him, he knew he would return sooner but he prayed otherwise, he rearranged, trying to cleanse his home of signs that he loathe his best friend, to cleanse his home of the past, he burnt the sheets that covered the bed in his sanctum sanctorum, he threw out every thing that smelt as Kathryn.
He wasn't petty nor was he sad, he just wanted a new beginning, one where he wasn't thrown out and blamed for an act he didn't commit, a beginning where he had no girlfriend, no best friend, a beginning where he read the papers with a glass of white wine in his hands and wrappers of burger and chicken on the centre table, seating on his long broad soft white couch, relaxed and free, ignoring his new company, the girl that would not just stop staring at him as though he was a weird book that needed be understood.
From the morning race out in the woods, to the intense exercises and calisthenics, she just stared endlessly at him, but he wasn't phased, he just read the daily news and drank his wine.
Hannah was getting used to living with him.
She was fascinated by his lack of attention and patience. He couldn’t be bothered by the things she did and he only spoke or act when needed.
she had thought that his male ego would be problem, she was well stronger than he was, she was fast and all and all better than he was in everything.
When he couldn't move the wardrobe that he and Paul had broken, she did with ease, when his weapon bag was filled, she lifted it like a piece of rock, when they trained, she'd knock him out, when they ran, she was faster, even to as little as opening a tightened pickle jar.
He never seemed moved by her abilities unlike she expected and in curiosity she asked, hoping to get a sane reply from him but he would say, “It doesn't bother me, I do fancy a strong powerful woman, that... night would kill”.
He gasped and squinted at the head news, he thought to himself and then cursed himself.
Apparently, he was so wrapped up in his newly found Nephilim and demons that brought the depths of hell to the surface that he had let few strange animal attacks pass, maybe he had thought that the men of order would have sent out their trainees to search and end any little forest related murder, but they didn't, instead, they sent their strongest to bring down a foe, a human foe.
The ‘bear’ had taken it's twelfth life today, a young girl, Emma Larson, a high school senior, she was allegedly camping in woods with her boyfriend when they were ambushed.
The boy did survive.
“Hannah guess what??”.
“What??”.
“Tonight, we go hunting”.
Hell had risen.
Demons rose to the surface, in great numbers, mighty demons, bound in hell through out time, warriors of the underworld, risen with one goal and one goal alone, to procure the last ingredient, the last ingredient the succession of the king of hell.
Achlys had placed the burden on himself to be the new ruler and restore the power of hell, to bring back the hell that all once feared.
Lucifer had had his time he had had his fun, on earth, in heaven, in hell; he was mighty, he was feared, he was the strongest and most revered Archangel, till the last fall, the fall where his brother kicked him back to the farthest reach of perdition.
The fight was epic, demons and angels fell, seals were broken, time was altered, and when it came to the last minute, when Michael had to kill his brother and rid the world of the great evil, he rethought, knowing that hell would always need a ruler, a able leader.
Then he banished him to hell, to rule the demons he created, unable to return to the mortal realm for all eternity.
Achlys planned to bring back the glory hell once had, the glory that only the Archangels of heaven could fight off, and for this he needed a loophole, something powerful that was not meant to be, that it's existence alone defiles the laws of nature, and after years, he had found it.
Not the vampire werewolf hybrid, not the immortal phoenix, not the demon-human baby, but the Nephilim, the daughter of Nathaniel, a hero of heaven, an Angel, one of the powers of heaven, a usual soldier of heaven tasked against demons.
He made a name for himself as he was the only non-Archangel brave enough to fight the fiery red eyed Archangel.
He fought the king of hell and lived.
After that he went on against the fallen angels, against, the sons, against the princes of hell, the first demons, against the lords of hell, demon-human hybrids, he wasn't as his rank and file brothers, he was stronger, he was respected, he was feared, so highly renowned that he earned a name that would haunt foes, in the great beyond or the fiery depths of despair.
They called him the red-winged Archangel.
Belphegor was given leadership over the new found army, he sent out spies, to survey the prospect, and return with information, the plan was to strike with the element of surprise as their advantage.
They watched, they waited.
“I tracked them down here” Jerold said, creeping into an abandoned building, it was made totally out of wood, it was dusty and filled with cobwebs, sand and abandonment filled the air, the house was tall but had no upper ground, there were chairs, bottles, weaponized woods around, the structure was broad and the there were only three rooms, the centre room where they entered was the largest by a wide margin.
They proceeded with caution.
Hannah meditated on the facts of the mission, she was new to searching for trouble as she was always on the run, but she just couldn’t understand what he had blabbed.
“A werewolf?” She had asked rhetorically.
“Yeah, the perfectly ripped out heart, definitely a werewolf” He confirmed but still bothered by the marks on the victims corpse, “But there's also a bite mark by the neck and hand”
“Yeah?”
“Those marks can be easily overlooked and we walk into a room filled with vampires with our head up our asses”
“What?”
“Shit is clearly staged, it's a vampire kill, but the heart was ripped out and tossed”, “A werewolf would have eaten it without restraint”
“Why would a vampire use a werewolf as a cover-up, am I wrong or Isn't the idea better if you frame something weaker” She squinted, confused, “You know? To confuse and disarm”
“Ignore what the stories and movies say, vampires are incredibly stronger than werewolves, one vampire could take down a pack of twenty” He muttered, rolling the corpse back into the shadow of the closet, “It's probably the first ones that made that stuff up, wise fuckers”.
“How'd you know all these stuff”
“Let's say I've seen this before, went in with silver blades and came out all sorts of fucked” He exhaled.
“So you're a kind of hunter”
“Nah, I just read the news and befriend murderers” He replied sarcastically but she took him for his exact words. “Let's go hunts some vamps shall we”.
“Take right, I'll take left” He whispered as they creeped on.
She walked cautiously, a silent step at a time, she strode into a smaller room that looked to be a kitchen turned slaughter room, there was blood everywhere, repainting the wall with thick red gore and dead bodies supplied the liveliness of the new paint as flies buzzed around.
Most bodies had its vain ripped and their blood lost, and among the lifeless body was a naked and scared girl, curled up in the darker corner, her hair was black and stained with dried blood, she sat with her knees curled up below her jaws as she sobbed in abandonment, cold and fear.
“Hey, hey” Hannah called, walking slowly to her with an outstretched arm. She screamed and tried to run but she restrained her, holding her by the waist tightly, and whispering “It's okay, it's okay, I'm here now, they won't hurt you again” into her ears as she tried to comfort her, she ripped out part of her robe to shield her from the stabbing cold.
She was deeply injured and would bleed to numb death with time, she moved her hand softly by her neck as a mother would, “It's alright now” she whispered, brushing her neck softly.
There was a blink of white light in her eyes and longer in her palms, they both gasped as her injuries closed shut, the scars, the fang marks, the bloods and all, closed up and her strength renewed.
Hannah had touched her and she was healed.
They heard a rush from the outer room, clangs and bangs, woods shattering and chattering men, she ran out, whispering to the young girl to hide and wait.
She darted into the scene whence four hefty men and an old looking woman stood, they stared at Jerold villainously, as though they had taken hate in him.
“Wise little peasant, now you have to die” The woman said hissing.
“Mind repeating that” He grinned, pulling out two machete from his scabbard behind him.
“Boy we aren't wolves, those shit don't work on us” One of the men laughed
“We're after all immortals” The other smiled
“Bring your immortal ass right here boys”.
They charged at him with superhuman speed, roaring ferociously but as they got closer to him, a foul odour repressed their abilities, it choked their throat, their powers, their being, the first attacker threw a punch and it deflected by Jerold's move, and then did the second and third attack, he rolled under the second's strike and kicked the third back to hit the first, he turned to his feet, gripped the second attacker by the neck and drove his blade into his mouth, it burnt his lips and every skin it touched as it tore wide open, he knocked the body other side, staring at the others who gasped in utter surprise.
“Guess the components conjured into my little baby?... dark magic” He smiled to their faces, “Why don't you suck on that” He played with words.
The door burst open and strange troops burst in, angry and ready, they wore ancient and black robes. Belphegor locked eyes with Jerold, he had burst in thinking he was alone and to his surprise he had company, powerful company.
Jerold was a fighter, an experienced one but he knew how, why and when to run, he knew now that the vampires would avenge their brother and he couldn't fight off demon and vampire, he knew running would leave the fate of the demons in the hands of the vampires.
Jerold tried to escape through the back room and Belphegor ran after him.
They fought in the room dead bodies, Belphegor was a trained warrior, almost two thousand years old ruthlessness and murder, he made Jerold tastes the bloods around, he knocked him around the room with the strength of a lion man, Jerold vampire blade proved useless as it needed contact to inflict damage and the aura of dark magic imprinted only weakened vampires.
Belphegor was at full strength and Jerold couldn't keep up and then Hannah stepped in.
She leaped with superhuman press a few feet in the air, and struck her leg hard on his chest, knocking him away, he looked fixedly at them planning on a best and effective strike.
They heard screams from the other room, roars of agony of voices likened to the people he led, Belphegor knew what was happening, he had led his people into a room of one of the most powerful and oldest creatures, he knew it was their cry he heard, he knew they were being ripped apart, though humans might need spelled blades and dead languages to fend of demons, vampire could do that with their teeth and claws.
He scoffed and ran back to the room.
“He's dead” Jerold hissed as they bolted into the night.
The vampires were much stronger than the demons, vampires were said to be top of the food chain, they were incredibly old and impossible to come by, they fed on blood and had a much heightened senses, their bodies were basically impenetrable and they were slave to the sun.
Their beings was created to counter most evil, they had teeth and claws able to kill humans but also it had something to it that harmed even other supernatural... magic.
Belphegor knew there had to be a higher power if there was chance of survival, so he prayed, to the higher power, to one being he knew could and would save them.
And then he came.
The mystery man, the prince of hell, in his all black three-piece suit and well brushed American shaved sides brown and grey hair.
His presence brought silence and this silence brought tension in the heart of his servants and also in the hearts of the vampires. They sensed his raw power, his enormous rush of divinity but they believed to be better, to be stronger, they thought they were matched.
They could take demons out, they could even overcome dukes of hell but Achyls.
The greenish yellow eyed demon always stays out of the business of normal Supernatural, this was the first in a thousand years, the first time the prince of hell had glowered their devilish yellow eye against a vampire.
They laughed at him, mocking his bravery and continuance.
They believed he was normal, they thought he was normal.
He wasn't.
But he didn't forgive their ignorance.
He stood, staring at them with a distant smile and unbuckled jacket, his servants redrew to behind him, he raised his head and stared at the mother
“Children, let's play”.
YOU ARE READING
Crimson (Prequel; Divinity Crisis Triology)
FantasiA hunter encounters a new creature that changes his definition of good and evil
