Crimson (Prequel; Divinity Crisis Triology)

Chapter Ten: Michael's Return

          He pulled out the blade, groaned and exhaled, threw it to the sides and fell on his feet, she slowly looked up at him, he smiled and whispered to her even in his extent of excruciating and horrendous pain, “Don't cry love, takes more than death to get rid of me”.
She leaped from her knees fast to wrap her hands around him, “I'm sorry” She cried, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry for not trusting you, I'm sorry for leaving you behind, sorry for the way I treated you, I'm, I'm just, sorry, I'm sorry” She went on and on, pouring out every last words from her hearts, thankful and glad that her decisions, her punishments had not cost her his life.
She was saddened and glad, she sobbed hysterically but still, blissful.
There was a warm feeling in her heart, one that send ripples of sensation through her body, through her soul. She stared at him and she could feel an ache within her, one she hadn't felt before, it was new, like an urge, an appeal, knowing she hated him as much as she wanted him alive.
She could taste it, it was bittersweet.
It was like a rush of mighty waves, waves of alternating emotions, this time a tear, the next a gush of bliss, tingling through her being like a wild sensation.
She did know what she wanted, she wanted him, his attention, his jokes, his love, the way he made her feel nervous and a good sense of weakness. With him she felt safe though she was stronger, she felt alive, free even when the rage of hell fell before her, she felt loved.
“It's okay, okay, okay love, I'm not dead, I'm here, still here as I promised...”
“Jesus!” The demon exclaimed, “Don't tell me you're gonna kiss or something!... hell!”
“Shut the fuck up Belphegor”
“What, what happened? How'd you?” She asked, her hands on his checks and then through his body.
“Let's just say all hell broke loose... all thanks to you” He replied, looking over her shoulders to smirking Belphegor.
“My bad, didn't know they all hated you that much”
“Sure” He replied sarcastically.
“Maybe I did”.
“They came from all corners, it was like they were trained against me alone”
“You blame them?” Belphegor interrupted, “You did kill quite a number of them now”.
“Maybe I'd add one more to the list, you might know him, name's start with B-e-l" He spoke over her shoulders again, his stare pierced into his.
“Ready when you are human”.
“But... you came out of nowhere, with this spectacular bright, they just faded off... Hannah, you saved my life” He expressed, his palm softly round her cheeks
“Me?”
“Yeah, you, your wings, the light, twas glorious; how'd you even do that?” He inquired with enthusiasm
“I didn't, I don't, I” She stammered, shocked and in unbelieve.
“Shh, okay” He stopped her wordlessness with his index finger softly on her lips, she leered into his eyes, she desired to hold on to him forever, she desired to fill the raging burning within her. She grew soft around his arms, her eyes ever meek and lips ever alluring, he said before he placed his lips softly on hers, “Hannah; you saved my life”.


          He washed off his body, the heat, the aura, his blood and all. He sought to start over, and whenever he required a new beginning, he sparked it with a bath, washing away of the pain, the tears, the blood; the past.
When he left his family for The Organisation, a change in his life, one he wasn't prepared for, leaving his uninterested parents and his loving sister for a more complex day-to-day, he took a bath.
After his conversion, from a basic human, into a warrior, into a soldier, a hunter; after his transformation form fearfulness to fearlessness, he took a bath.
When he had to leave his best friend, his brother, for a new life, a life of loyalty and trust, a life of loneliness and emotionless single day relationship, a life that made him a boss of himself. When he left The Organisation and threw their rules and commands to the trash... it was that night he said “Go fuck yourselves!” to his best friend, to his lover, and to The Organisation, he took a bath.
When a new dawn sparked, a dawn when he had created a name for himself, when he had walked into camps of supernatural beings and gave a large number mighty undying beings a reason to fear mortals, to fear him, before then, he took a bath.
He recalled the decision he made years passed, in the company of three blonde women who had nothing worn to cover them, empty bottles of liquor scattered around, and one half empty and in his hands.
He took a bath, he decided Cherry's disloyalty and infidelity wouldn't cause his downfall, he stood up, out if the binge drinking, the drunkenness, the laziness, the emotionless pleasure and then he went on to the supernatural community, taking lives from their numbers, most especially, demons.
He used his hunting as therapy, to heal his thoughts, his mind, his soul.
Then he was named, a name that would haunt all, inhuman, a name that would  shook the hearts of all, some for fear, some for hate, for love, for thrills, and maybe for turmoil, “The demon slayer”.
He walked into his room, into his sanctum sanctorum, with his white towel cloth around his waist, his face, his shoulders, his chest dripped of water, his full no style hair soaked. He cleared his eyes of the little waters and he glared, surprised at what, who laid on his bed.
“What, Ha..” She stopped him, she placed her finger on his lips and whispered as she stared seductively in his eyes, “Shush”.
He felt cornered, he felt trapped and he couldn’t deny how it made him feel, he took a deep breath, and he just stared as she moved around him like a ravenous wolf. There was silence and it was eating him up, he loved silence, he loved peace, loved bliss but then and there, the silence only made him nervous.
“You're different” She whispered gazing into his eyes, “I just can't understand you... why stay? why protect me? I mean I am stronger than you, why? why are you?” She rambled on confused and her eyes squinted, it was as if she had tried to understand him, his personality, why he does what he does, but the more she thought she knew, the less she actually did. It took from her sanity, and she rambled on to stop herself from vulnerability, to convince herself of the feelings that grew endlessly within her, she wanted to be sane, wanted to be strong, at all time; but the more she wanted valour and sanity, the more she craved him, his eyes, his lips, his body... a touch.
As she did with Arnold, she found herself in thralls of love for a man she barely knew but a man that had proved time and times again his devotion, his loyalty, unlike her past love.
“Hannah, Hannah, Hannah it's okay, it's okay” He whispered, holding her still, holding her in his arms, “You stood by me, you saved me... I went after Achyls because I wanted to be useful, I just thought maybe for once I'd do the protecting”
“You wanted to protect me?” She muttered tenderly
“Yea-ah, I made a promise”
“You wanted to protect me” She giggled broadly, she ran her fingers up his chest and bent his neck down to her, “You wanted to protect me” She laughed and kissed him fast.
She felt a wall in her lowered, she felt all self-control fading and fading fast, she roughed on him, kissing him endlessly.
She did try to stop herself, to hold herself still but her every cell yearned for him.
She tried to convinced herself, maybe if she get a grip of herself mentally, she would physically, she thought why would a man, why would a human consider the life of an immortal. What was hidden far from her sight that a man would not be bothered by her strength, that a man would look at her with such intense and pure love, one he could not hide... that he would look at her as his love
He too did wanted her, from the first day he saw her. She gave him a reason to start over, a reason to wash out the old and await a new dawn, she was hope, she was peace, she was love, and he lived by that ever since, moving at her own pace, growing together.
He pulled away and she stared tenderly into his eyes, he couldn't resist, he was a trained warrior but she had weakened him – in a good way, not with swords or words but with aa kiss. He couldn't stop his desire, and she could see it in his eyes, and she felt it as he kissed her right back, falling hard on his  bed.
She knew, as she was wrapped around his arms rapturing giggle of sensation, unending ripples of love up her spine, all around and even to her partly celestial being.
It was magical, it felt magical, his kisses, his touch, his gripped, the love in his eyes and her willingness to his words, his touch. She gave herself be moved by him, she allowed herself to know true vulnerability, one with trust, one bound by love, stronger still.
She was welcomed into paradise, or so she felt, it was as she remembered and more, and it was heightened by her desire, by her cravings for him, on and on and on till all thoughts in her head cleared, and what remained “Jerold”.
And this thoughts did she moan out her lips, captured by his will, his assertiveness, his continuous affirmation, she loved what he burnt within her and she loved that he loved it, that he loved her body, loved the way she made him feel, so much he couldn't keep it to himself.
She didn't care for flattery or exaggeration, she didn't care for anything and for nothing, she just knew glee and she could only now accept... love.

          Then came a loud bang in the house, and every where went silent, he raised his face from her chest and listened, there was nothing, absolutely nothing, so calm and silent she could hear both their racing heartbeat.
He looked back at her and smiled and bent for a kiss and then came another bang, louder than the last, and then another and then another and then rampant like a festive drum, beating on and on and on, as if it announced the arrival of something, of someone, someone special.
He rushed up and jumped into his clothes, the first he could grab and so did she, they paused and looked at each other as the clasping only got louder.
She opened the door and rushed through the pathway to whence the sounds emanated, his sanctum sanctorum was a room deep in the hearts of the upper ground, it was far from all other rooms that was in the top floor and around it was the minor library and his study.
It was usually silent, peaceful and there was his mind and thoughts and soul free.
There was also a minor theatre, there was a big game room, and there was a door that led sanely nowhere.
She went through the corridor and turned to the start of the stairway, she badged into someone, fast and hard that she unconsciously fell into defence mode.
She gripped the runaway, twisted it hands, grab it neck and smashed it hard on the cold hard ground.
“hrrgh” He groaned in pain, his eyes squeezed closed and his bones and his heart and she saw fear in his eyes, “There are Angels in your living room, I'm dead, you're dead, we're all dead” He added, reluctant to stand and a little tear-ry
“Cowardice, there's nothing new with you Belphegor” Jerold replied, just catching up with Hannah's incredible pace.
“You might be the so called demon slayer, but I know Angels; they're not these pearly saints they're cut out to be; they're ruthless, inconsiderate messengers... soldiers of heaven” He grumbled, standing.
“I think we'll be alright” He smiled.
Hannah took off basically immediately, if this was a new enemy, she wanted it settled immediately, she won't want another five hundred years of exile and bloodshed, and certainly she won't want another wasted semi-millennia living a loveless life.
She wanted to be done with every threat, every danger, every foe, and return to the arms of love.
She ran down the first flight of stairs, turned and then jumped over the others and fell on her feet, not too far from whence they stood... all eight of them.
“Monique” She gasped as one held her by the neck.
She had taken her in as her child after she went off to find out the brutal murder of her family.
She returned as that was the only home she knew, the only place she thought was safe. “No!!” Hannah cried as a blade pierced her heart and she fell.
She looked at their faces and it was blank and emotionless.
She felt they had no feelings, no empathy, no filter and it reminded her of the early years of her life, the days she was introduced to the feelings of love, of tears, guilt and remorse; when she had to learn – the hard way, that there were consequences for all actions, physical, mental, emotion and more.
She had to learn what she needed to make her human, to make her different than her black hearted foes.
She looked to her side, hoping that Jerold would be there, he was a strength and also a weakness she had come to accept... it was not a conscious move, deep inside she was lost and didn't know what next to do and she looked to him as he was never taken by surprise, or he puts on a well enough act to scale through.
He re-evaluates and moves on in matter of seconds; but when she needed his affirmations and stoicism, he was nowhere to be found... gone and not beside her.
She had to think fast, she had to move fast, she had to lead herself; one virtue she never did possess – leadership.
She stood still, not frozen but also not moving, her indecision was killing her and it seemed they too were stricken dead by her inaction, they just gazed back at her and let the body of the young girl drop.
Beautiful but lifeless.
“Why?” She whispered, holding back her tears, holding back herself from making a decision because the scenarios she played in her head didn't seat well with her. She was holding back her tears, she was holding back her will to act.
“She was impure, stained by the blood vampire” One of them grumbled.
They started towards her slowly, they were not angry, were not happy, they just move with an expression on their face that basically translated into nothing, just plane blank.
She was scared and Belphegor behind her was trembling, he had accepted his fate and cursed Jerold for making him feel weak whilst he bolted.
Hannah kicked herself off her trance and took her stance, she thought, if she was to go down, she might as well go down fighting, go down a warrior, and as they got closer, her anticipation and readiness only grew intense.
From not far beside was a shot heard and, they all turned to where the sound originated.
It was Jerold, with a black revolver pointed at the one who led the Angels.
Their eyes returned to a groaning body, there was light glimmering from within the hole, created by the bullet.
The Angel coughed, tried to hold the lights – that was his essence, in, he just looked straight at the shooter, and then back at Hannah, still stoic, apparently not in pain nor was he sad, shocked or afraid of death, he just let out a loud scream as the lights inside him burst out his vessel and brightened the rather dark and pugnacious night.
She was filled with relief, she smiled, she grinned, she was proud, she was happy. The man she knew to be her sidekick had not run off in fear but rather had armed himself and returned, stronger.
Belphegor was appalled, he knew Angels, he knew what powerful being they were, he knew how hard it was to come by them and harder still to kill but that human had done it, Jerold, had done the impossible; yet again.
Now there was hope, there was easiness in his breath and his racing heartbeat mellowed. He saw light at the end of the tunnel.
After the death of one, there scenes were awoken, they knew now it was a less than fair challenge.
One side was strength and immortality on the other was humanity and the ultimate weapon.
Two angel vanished, and then walked out from nothingness before Jerold, one held his arm, the hand that held the revolver, and the other knocked him over the barricade that was at the edge of the gallery down to the ground floor and he fell on the counter by his liquor stand.
He groaned and sat up, the revolver fell and smacked his forehead, he looked up and saw the Angels leap over the barricade to fall against him. He rolled off the counter, fell to one knee, turned and aimed the revolver at the head of the nearest, and then he pulled the trigger, the bright light flashed again and he closed his eyes as it was just a space away.
He opened his eyes and a giant with white wings stood before him, he held him by his neck and threw him against the wall of the counter, he walked to him, not fast and neither was he slow, picked him up again, held him up like an infant, his hand stretched to the air, the highest he could, high up in the air and then he let him down, and he fell, and smacked against the already broken glass top of the counter.
Meanwhile, Hannah fought of five Angels, she was new to them and their attacks were not for the straight kill, they aimed to weaken her, to drain her, as if they were stalling, she was faster, she was stronger, and as she ducked through their attacks her rage grew more infinite.
She was surrounded by the five and they moved in, she remembered what enormous power she had a connection to, she remembered the flash of her wings, the bright white light that came from within her when she screamed and teleported back to the mansion
She not only remembered it, she felt it again, she felt it like a wave within her, rushing with power and freedom, and she discovered what power she had in her disposals; she summoned all the power could, she reached down to the depths of her soul, with strength, will, imagination, and hope, and as they moved in more and more.
She stretched her two hands to her side with great speed and let out a loud cry... she felt their power link for a split second, she felt all their power within her and then they knocked back, and fell hard.
The last of the Angels rushed at her and she rose to action.
She punched the first and again she felt his essence move from him to her, like a short pause to her, but within a second to all others, it ravelled her thoughts but she fought on, he was knocked back and she turned to the next and aimed the sole of her leg for his torso and he was knocked far down, again she felt his power in her and now she felt stronger than she did, she felt more power, stronger, and the rush intense and colossal, and when the last came, she just – by pure instinct, placed her hand on his chest, and there was a pause, a real pause this time, the Angel was not smacked back, his chest was glued to her palms and light shone from within him, within his chest covered by her palm, and it grew and grew till the Angel screamed into nothingness.
And his vessel dropped.
“We got an Angel weapon” Belphegor whispered from where he stood, Jerold groaned and fell down the counter, if he wasn't faced by a white winged Angel, he probably had seen what strength Hannah displayed.
The Angel was agitated, he flew to her in great speed, flapping his white wings knocking away everything in his path, then he held her by the neck, she broke his grip by hitting the top of his elbow, she straightened her fist against his face and then again and the again, but this time he caught her fist, twisted and turned her around like a ballet dance, her hands behind her and on his belly, he moved his free hand and placed his index and middle finger on her forehead.
She passed out immediately.
He turned to Jerold, carrying her unconscious body on his shoulder, he grinned at him and as he groaned to his feet to leaped as fast as he could, but before he could get there, he vanished.
They all vanished.


          He sat by the counter, a bottle scotch in his hands, and he staggered when he walked, Belphegor was silent, he was in the battle that unfolded in the living room, he couldn't call Jerold out on his whining and drunkenness, cause just watched against  the Angels.
In his defence, Angels were stronger than demons, Angels could kill his kind with just a touch on the head, they smite demons with a touch and a thought.
Demons only weapon against Angels were numbers, the more demon that ran into battle, the more they drained and chase off the Angels. Belphegor had lost that privilege as he had gone against the will of hell, all demons that would see him wanted him dead, gone, forgotten, for treachery and betrayal.
He just drank with him and drowned their sorrow together, he could feel he was missing something, there was a mystery to this, the white winged Angel, Jerold sanity and drunkenness, it was to him like he lacked motivation, he lacked something, cause he wasn't scared neither was he bothered, it was like he knew the situation all well.
But he was saddened, he was in pain, and he wouldn't live with himself he Hannah never returned.
There was a sound of metal hitting the ground, bouncing in and then rolling to the centre of the parlour, and then smoke burst out from within, immediately there was the sounds of people running in with assault riffles, breaking in through the glass windows, through the walls, sliding down a rope from the roof.
It was a raid, ten men, maybe more.
Belphegor looked to Jerold, he could swear he saw a grin in his face, like a distant smile, devilish smile, and then the smoke grenade went off and for a second, Belphegor was blindsided by the gas before he realized, he was a demon, he could see through laboratory created gas.
He looked again and he saw Jerold afar in the corridor as he turned into a room.
This time it was a look of anger in his face.
Belphegor blended with the gas and watched the invaders roam the house, he saw weaknesses in their formation and called their leader a fool, he chose to let them move, he didn't know the rules, he unconsciously waited for Jerold's initiative.
And he did.
Again with a gunshot, this time the shooter could not be seen, only the sound gunshot and the sight of a body as it fell.
The man who led saw that his element of surprise had been blown, and his strategy of blindsiding had been turned against him, he too blend with the aura, with the night.
Belphegor sprang from whence he stood, held the first guy he could find and drove his head into the hard wood wall, pulled his body out as the head took its leave.
He moved on to the next, turning the pointed gun back to the chest of the carrier and the trigger was pulled, and he died by his own sword.
The gas had cleared now and the normal night view was restored, partially, they turned to Belphegor and shot endlessly but the bullets dropped on hitting his chest.
The leader saw this from whence he hid, he pulled out a machete that was held to his body by his girdle, he ran towards him jumping on a centre table, a white couch, the other side of the couch and then he ran two steps on the wall and dived to hit Belphegor on his belly.
They both collapsed on the floor and the machete fell from his grip.
Belphegor threw his fist against the leader’s face and rolled up to seat on him, in the attempt to restrain him, but he reached his head against his nose, turned his hands a little and pulled out of his grip, he moved his waist and knocked Belphegor off him, he punched his throat, and then again and as he paused to gasp for breath, he got on him, held him down and realized the machete was not in range.

          Jerold didn't forgive the ignorance of the raiding gunmen, they should have known better than to just stand and watch their leader take on a demon. He jumped on the counter, took a shot at them and again and again and two times more and they scattered, leaving their bloody four colleagues to fall, he ran forward against the leader, he aimed the gun and shot but he ducked and it passed through, he pulled the trigger again but it hooked as there was no bullet left.
The man who led the raiding team ran towards him and as they got well closer, Jerold jumped anf slapped both his feet on his face, he staggered back and Jerold finessed to his feet, pulled him up by the neck, let him go as he stood without a strong stance and he punched him on and on and on.
The surviving four reloaded their gun, from whence they hid behind a wall, they turned to waste their armour on the human enemy but instead they saw the demon before them.
One girl was wise to run, but the others met their fate, ruthless but fast.
“I told you your return meant death” Jerold grumbled still punching at the now bloody face, he took out his anger of Hannah's abduction on him, on his face.
“Stop!!” Cherry cried running to him, she stopped as she locked eye with him and she couldn't recognise the man she knew, the man she once loved.
His eyes were dark, his smile was lost, his restrain, his empathy. She glared as she stood there,  scared, she looked to Paul, her lover, his best friend and thought, if he would harm his best friend, his brother, what was an unfaithful lover to him.
But he got off him and walked to her, she was trembling, she felt in shock as her thoughts slowed and her being shivered and boiled, with ripples of fear and disgust down her throat. Her heart raced like a million beats in a second.
He gripped her neck tight and stared into her eyes, into her soul, she could see the lack of emotion in his eye, the way he would look at her with deep unfathomable love before and even after her infidelity, it was all lost, now she was not a lover to him, she was his attacker, an intruder, an enemy.
She begged for mercy.
And he released his grip on her neck. Only now could she see the old lover she knew, the smile – though faked, but it was there and she felt relief.
“I promised I won’t hold back, but I made Paul that promise” He said with a little smile and a fixed gaze, “Now I'm making you a promise; the next you come after me, I         will kill you... Paul is dead, and you can run to your little old Organization and gather as many young weak soldiers as you can; but their death will be, in          your        hands.

          There was silence and pain under the moonless old night, bloody and stained by hate and turmoil, the aura couldn't be any less sane, filled with things no man in the face of the earth could name; the savour of a dead angel, the blood of Jerold, and others, the smoke from the gun, the gas, and natural smell of the night all in one and all in all sad and badly and fully eventful, but the sun could be seen rising and a better tomorrow could be seen.
Jerold bent down to bloody weak Paul, he wasn't empathetic, he wasn't promising anything but his allegiance for his life.
There was a new threat that had been fought in the past, and now he had returned and is as powerful and unthoughtful and ruthless as ever, and he was to be stopped.
“An old friend is return... Michael”.