Darksiders: Age of Creation (Book 3)

Chapter 5: The Most Hateful Place Ever

Damiana strode after Abbadon, looking up at the towering skyscrapers in distant awe. Many angels stopped and looked down at the Anti Christ in distaste, sensing the demonic presence within her.
"Why did the Council believe I need you as a protector?" Abbadon asked, looking down at Damiana from the side.
"The...assassin is...dangerous?" Damiana said, unsure and distracted by the bright lights.
"You sound unsure."
"If you haven't noticed, Abbadon, almost all the Archangels are dead. So, it makes sense as to why you need a guard."
"That doesn't answer my question; why you?" Abbadon snapped.
"Like I know." Damiana mumbled angrily, crossing her arms.
Abbadon went to snap something back at her, but quickly regained his demeanor when more angels circled around them. Damiana looked up at the Angels and rolled her eyes at their stupefied expressions.
"Did you meet Abbadon ye- oh." Vora whispered in Damiana's ear, appearing beside Damiana.
"What in the hell is that?" Abbadon asked, raising an eyebrow at the odd creature.
"I'm Vora, a Watcher-"
"Odd, a Watcher speaking..." Abbadon looked away in quiet disgust.
"Oh...uh...am I not supposed to?" Two of Vora's eyes glanced at Damiana in question.
"You're a person too, you should be allowed to speak." Damiana reassured the Watcher quietly.
Abbadon stopped in front of a fairly large complex and nodded at the heavily armored guard. The guard went to step aside, but presently held the blade of his halberd at Damiana and Vora.
"It is fine, send for Azareal." Abbadon said, passing the Guard.
Damiana stuck her tongue out at the Guard and skipped after Abbadon. Vora only simply nodded at the Guard and floated off towards Damiana.
"I'm not sure that I like this place..." Vora mumbled next to Damiana's ear, quiet and almost pathetic like.
Damiana simply shrugged and followed Abbadon further into his abode, gazing at the many paintings that aligned his wall. One painting in particular made Damiana stop dead in her tracks.
She faced the oil painting and gingerly touched the surface.
"Who is that?" Vora gazed at the picture as well, mesmerized by the bright colors and high contrast between them.
"My mother..." Damiana mumbled, looking into the smirking Muriel's blue eyes.
Before Vora could ask anymore questions, Damiana exhales loudly and turned to follow Abbadon once more.
"Oh...great!" Damiana threw her hands up in the air.
"Did we...lose him?" Vora blinked, looking around them.
"Yeah, well, let's look for him." Damiana shrugged, walking down the corridor that she last saw Abbadon cross.
"Should we go through his house without him being here?"
"Vora...why do you ask so many questions?" Damiana said quietly, peeking into a room.
"Well-" Vora turned a deep shade of pink in embarrassment.
Soon, the two came up to a embroidered door. Lined with gold and an inch of dust, the door glinted softly in the light, seemingly begging Damiana to open the door.
Vora followed Damiana's gaze at the doorknob and silently begged Damiana to continue looking for Abbadon.
"One peek can't hurt anyone." Damiana justified, grabbing the doorknob and twisting it.
Using her entire body weight, Damiana slowly pushed the door open and gazed inside.
"Wow."
Opening the door more for Vora to see, Damiana wiggled through the slim space between door and doorframe.
The room itself could only be described as magnificent. The entire room was the brightest of whites and gold. Along the walls were massive bookshelves and weapons of all kinds.
"This person was interested in everything, look; it's a demon forged axe!" Vora squeaked, rushing over to admire the dark weapon.
"Including the Nephilim." Damiana mumbled, picking up a talisman with the dead race's writings.
"Oooh, human armor! They were such an interesting race..." Vora went off, speeding from one shelf to the other.
Damiana smiled up at the excited Vora. In the corner of the room, a familiar weapon caught Damiana's eyes.
"Slayer?" Damiana picked up the sword and traced her finger alongside the long dead runes.
"What in the hell are you two doing?!" Abbadon roared from across the room.
Vora made a startled cry and hid behind Damiana, who simply just looked up at Abbadon.
"Was this...my mother's room?"
"You are not to be in here-"
"Why are all her things here if Heaven banished her?"
Abbadon stopped and straightened up, jaw tightening angrily.
"I don't know who you think you are."
"I am the daughter of Muriel, the Angel of God and the Rider of Darkness! I have a right to know these things."
Abbadon simply rolled his eyes and cautiously entered the room.
"Haven't been in here for awhile..." He said out loud to himself, gently laying his palm against Muriel's bookcase.
"Was my mother, your sister?"
"My sister is not your mother! You have no relation to me." Abbadon sneered, snatching his hand away from the bookcase.
Vora made another squeak and hid in Damiana's thick locks of hair, turning an even paler shade of pink.
"She is your sister and as much as I hate to admit it, we are related. Now; is this her room?"
"My sister would have never laid with the king of Demons...but this is...where she used to live." Abbadon hissed, glaring down at Damiana.
"Okay...um...." Damiana searched around the room to talk about.
"So, this is her sword, huh, cool." Damiana looked down at the sword in her hands and back up at Abbadon, smile faint on her lips.
"Don't make conversation, leave this place, now." Abbadon ordered, snatching the grand sword from Damiana's hands.
Damiana sighed and looked towards the open balcony, noticing a small mess of black feathers approaching the trio.
Dust made a shrill squawk and dove into the room, trying his best to stay in the air.
"Don't tell me more of you are to protect me...."
Damiana raised her arm up to allow Dust to perch comfortably. After a few moments of preening, the crow motioned towards the outside with a flick of its head. Damiana raised an eyebrow and walked out onto the balcony, looking down at the pavement below.
"What?! I can't do anything myself!" Damiana groaned angrily, almost knocking the tired crow from her arm.
Down below, Damiana could faintly see a green ish glow of Despair, slowly trotting towards the building.
"Go tell Death I don't need him!" Damiana informed Dust, who promptly nipped at her finger and stayed put.
"Maybe the Council came to their senses and figured out you're not cut out for this work." Abbadon sighed, turning to walk away.
He stopped at the doorway, back to the room, and looked back...
As if he were expecting someone.