The Dark One

Prologue

The pair of them stood over a crib. The woman rocked it gently, trying to get that. . . that thing to go to sleep. The man shifted from foot to foot, a concerned expression on his face. I could not see why. The thing was revolting. They were revolting. 

How could one of another species love someone of the opposite species? They were angels and demons, for God's sake! They do not mix. And yet I watched them trying to get their. . . spawn to go to sleep, looking at the monstrosity that they made with loving eyes. 

Didn't they know that God does not allow such things to roam the Earth? He made the humans. Vampires as well, even werewolves. He made the angels, too. Hades made the demons, but The Lord let that slide. But God did not approve when the humans and the vampires started reproducing or when the humans and the werewolves started to get along too much. He certainly would't approve the getting together of his greatest creation and Hades's only creation.

The female creature waved its tiny fists in the air and kicked the air. It squalled like a human infant. I already noticed the tiny hairs on the thing's head. They were black. Not good. I checked her eyes and her nails also. They too, were black. Maybe it was good after all. Maybe the blight upon God's great world wasn't a blight after all. Maybe it had gained all characteristics of a demon.

The mother couldn't stand to watch the creature cry. Who knew demons cared so much? She picked it up and started swaying. The father sighed when the infant demon still wouldn't be quiet. He ran his fingers of his left hand through his hair and held out the other one, saying something to the woman. She shook her head violently and turned away, as if she was protecting the baby. 

The child looked over it's mother's shoulder and squawked even louder. My sensitive ears felt tortured. I winced as I thought of how loud it was inside that house. The thought made me cringe. The baby was now reaching out to it's father, crying all the louder.

Finally, the demon mother got fed up with the baby and set it back down in the crib and stormed out of the room. The father looked back at the open door with a sad expression and then to the crib containing the still-crying child. He walked up and lifted the thing gently, a kind expression painting his face. He swung the infant around in his arms and it fell silent. The baby gazed up at the father and a peaceful look washed over the child's face. 

Just then, a loud bang could be heard from one of the other rooms as thunder rolled in the sky and an angel clad in ceremonial white walked through the doors of the nursery holding a smoking gun. I was confused. This was my assignment. This was my job, my duty. So why was another angel standing there in that room? 

The angel holding the baby set the little creature down, the look of serenity still in place. Two balls of the heavenly fire lit up on his hands. A chain formed between them. A few seconds later, the fire solidified into white iron. I had seen such things in Paradise before. This angel was a blacksmith for the heavens. When The Lord had need of it, he would call all the blacksmiths to come forge weapons of war to arm his angels for battle. They were very valuable and were held in God's highest grace. So how did this one fall so far?

The angel that barged in held up a hand and the father seemingly froze while more thunder rolled overhead. "My name is Remiel! I have come to erase the blight upon The Lord's world. If you fight, I shall have to cut you down too. I don't suggest standing in my way." 

The father just stood their, serene as ever. "And my name is Erelim. I cannot let you come into my home and destroy my family. And I refuse to let you take this child's life. She means something to God, you know. When I looked in her eyes, I could see it. She is--"

"Silence," Remiel bellowed. "I shall hear no more of this deception." Remiel tossed his gun to the side and a whip made of gold appeared in its place. He ran toward the father, a war cry emerging from his lips. He lifted his arm up and brought it back down with the force of God. Even from out here, I could hear the whistling sound it made when it was in the air and the noise it made as it slapped the skin of the angel Erelim's shoulder. 

A loud clap of thunder rolled in the sky, but when I looked up there were no clouds. I shrugged and returned to watching the fight that was supposed to be mine. For some reason, Remiel reminded me of the thunder.

He did nothing but flinch in response to that. It was his turn now and he held one of the solid iron balls in his left hand and whipped it around his head, similar to the way the cowboys swing the lasso in the old western movies that humans love to watch so much. Remiel had backed up a bit, and now he ran forward to try to land a second hit. 

He never got the chance. Erelim swung the ball around in his hand one more time before letting go. The chain wrapped right around Remiel's neck and the weight of the iron balls made it go around twice before stopping. Remiel tried to pull it off, but the harder he tried, the tighter it got. The chain started to cut his neck and sparkly red blood seeped out from under it. 

Erelim seemed to be able to move now. He stepped toward the struggling angel, staggering a bit as he went. That made me curious. I saw the blood on his shoulder, but that was not a deep enough wound to affect the angel. It must have been the weapon. I heard that forging weapons of the holy fire could be taxing, but I thought they were just rumors. Apparently not.

Remiel snarled as Erelim came closer and thrust a hand out. More thunder assaulted my ears as the father fell to the ground, clutching his neck. Remiel must have connected their spirits because I saw blood start to drip from Erelim's neck as well. They were both going to die soon.

I hopped out of the tree I was perched in and crossed the yard with long, purposeful strides. I walked up the steps and entered the front door. The demon mother lay sprawled out on the floor, black blood and a black mist pouring out of a wound in her chest. I walked beside her and looked down at her in disgust. Her eyelids fluttered and I noticed the fact that her chest still rose and fell with the intake and outtake of breath.

Even though she was a demon and had committed the crime of dirtying an angel, I still felt the need to let her suffer no longer. I could not heal her, but I could take away the pain forever. I summoned my own weapon of choice--a sword made of the blood of a vampire and adorned with the teeth of a werewolf on the hilt for a more powerful blade--and brought it down on her neck, severing her head. Her chest rose no more and I moved toward the two  doors to my right. One was closed, the other one was wide open. I went through the door of the open one and looked inside.

It was the nursery. The two angels were indeed dead and the creature laying in the crib was staring at me. I went toward it. When I reached the crib, I lifted my arm still holding the sword and was about to bring it down when I looked into the child's eyes.

My arm fell to my side. A feeling of serenity washed over  me as if I was in the presence of The Lord. And in a way, I was. I dropped the sword and picked up the child. I was wrong after all. My mission was not to rid the world of a creature that was not meant to be, it was to protect the most important being that has ever come to Earth since The Lord stepped foot out of Paradise.

"You, beautiful child," I started. "Shall be called Arela, the Dark One.