Dark Angel: Book of Souls

Dancing With Demons

Sweet, please excuse the mess. I haven’t been able to clean the old place up in oh, about two and a half centuries. But that can wait, now if you would be so kind as to get me out of this…prison, it would be just fantastic. Cicero’s manic voice growled in my head.

            “Cicero, be quiet, I’m working on it. And before you ask, yes I do have a plan thank you very much.” I responded, the sharpness in my voice even offending me. I walked towards the center of the room and stared down at the crypt that I should have also been interred into along with my “father”. It was once a deep crimson colored hatch in the center of the room, but now it was faded to a rusted metal color. I lifted the latch, ancient memories bombarding my empty mind.

            I walked the stone steps silently, almost as stealthily as a master vampire, perhaps even more so. It was dark, extremely dark, but this time it was comforting; almost like any light would betray the nature of the place. With each step I could feel the anxiety rising, the excitement building in my chest. I could feel my flesh tingling, my eyes glowing, my skin cool, and my lips even cooler. Without even realizing, I felt my fingers wrap around cold silver. The orb was warm and cool at the same time, and then I found that I had stopped walking. All my memories had faded and now the only thought on my mind was Leo. Leo. Leo. Leo. Leo. I shook the thoughts away with a toss of my head and kept trudging onwards down the ancient, stone steps.

            The door was older than everything else in the chamber; it even predated the stairs I had descended to reach it by at least a century. It looked to be made of the same crimson stone as the hatch to get to it. I placed my hands against the door; letting the amulet slip from my fingers. The door hummed at my touch, and the soft noise reverberated from it.

            “What is the fire of the soul?” A deep, eerie voice hissed. The answer immediately appeared in my mind.

            “Blood, my Brother.” I responded with ease, then took my blade and sliced it across my left palm, squeezing my hand and letting the blood drop into the crease that lay before the door. I heard a click and the door separated into three pieces then retracted into the walls. I stepped through and turned around to see it close shut.

            Gee Leo, thanks for the blade. Maybe you aren’t as useless as I wish you were. I could feel the remorse in my Soul Spot; the hollow place between a person’s ribs. I put my hand to it and let out a sigh.

            “My God Leo, you don’t know how badly I wish I could hate you...” I thought aloud. It was at my echoing voice that I remembered the task at hand and was welcomed back into reality and abandoned by my thoughts. I kept moving forward to the corridor in front of me. It went straight to a door but continued to my right where it led downhill to another two doors. The door on my left was once a bedroom; whether it was mine or not I was unsure. The door in front of me was the Council Chamber. Inside, in the center of the room would be a large tomb, inside would be my creator.

            Almost there Sweet, but I am going to warn you, you are going to have company. Try saying this: “veritatem revelare”. It might help you. Oh, and after you understand, thank Leo for communicating this message to the dead; if that’s even what I am, The manic voice was loud, louder than ever before. I was so close I could feel Cicero’s life force in the other room. I took out my small blade and held it out in front of me by the stone handle.

            “Veritatem revelare” The small blade glowed in a white light and I could feel it change. The rough stone handle seemed to smooth out and cool down under my hand, I could feel the weight shift and I knew the blade was growing larger. The light emanating from the weapon faded and what had once been a small dagger was an evil looking sword. Silver hilt and ebony blade, decorated with silver accents. There was an inscription carved into the silver hilt which was accented by ebony. “Sanguinem Ustor…” I murmured. The words were etched deep into my memory they surfaced only to define a blank. I couldn’t recall what they meant. “Damn…I guess this waits for another time…” I spoke aloud.

            I opened the door in front of me and felt shivers crawl up my back, my entire body shook with adrenaline. Perched upon the crypt was a small girl, maybe 11 years old at most; her eyes were black, soulless and cold. Her hair was long, thin and straight; the color was as black as her eyes. Her skin was pale enough it made Leo look tan and she was dressed in all black attire consisting of a dark grey robe, black linens underneath and her hood was down. In front of her were three malevolent figures; a cryptic sigil printed on each of there ragged robes. The same sigil was imprinted upon an amulet around the girl’s neck.

            “Occidere eam” The girl ordered. All three things ran towards me and the first one in slashing distance bled.

            As my blade collided with its flesh, the wound blackened and a tortured, whining scream emanated from its lips. The other two froze, but the one towards my right recovered first and ran at me. I took off its head. Red liquid oozed from where its head had once rested. The unwounded one cocked its head sideways as if it were thinking about what to do. While it was off guard I conjured up a ball of energy, and it was immersed with green flames. Green fire? That’s a nice touch. I felt myself snicker at my thoughts. I looked to the last one but it was already on the ground…Dead.

            “Is that the best you can do?” I dared the little girl in front of me. Her anger was at a boiling point and I could feel it fueling my lust for the kill.

            “Oh no, I haven’t gotten a chance to play yet.” Fear struck me as a deadly smile formed on her face and her eyebrows lowered. She appeared in front of me in less time than it took to blink. I was pinned against the wall fifteen feet to my left, and she had one hand around my throat, the other on her hip.

            “Having fun yet?” I choked out through her hold on my throat. She glowered at me. Her gaze wasn’t malicious or threatening, more…disappointed. “No worries, I’ve got a few more tricks up my sleeve…”

            I was behind her, my blade at the base of her skull. I chuckled at what I knew the look on her face had to be. I pulled it back so she could turn around. Now I could really see her for what she was. Dark blue bruises had formed around her black eyes, her veins were dark spreading into her cheeks. Her fingers had grown claws, her teeth each became a point and her lips were chapped and black; so very familiar.

            “That’s not very fair you know, isn’t there a rule about warning somebody before they start dancing with demons?” I sneered at her, or it, I suppose.

            “I don’t recall any rules, Angel.” The voice was that of many, and it was deep, evil through and through. The voice of a man. 

            “Awe…Sweetheart, didn’t anybody ever tell you? I’m no Angel…” I felt a crooked grin form on my face; that good, old malevolent smirk I flashed at my best of times. I plunged the tip of my blade through her heart and sank it into her up to the hilt. “Emorior enim tuum dues. Licet tu aduro in inferna.” I spoke the words clearly, fluently. Die for your god. May you burn in hell. I watched the bodies’ burn and disintegrate, then walked to the tomb.

            The tomb was made of the strange crimson stone; I placed my hands upon the lid. Another set of chills crawled up my spine.

            “What is blackest in the night?” The eerie voice hissed.

            “My heart, Brother.” I spoke and then with the blade given to me I slit my palm; there was no effect such as that upon the demons. My blood dripped onto the lid and formed a pentagram; protection. I heard the stone lid lift and move, I pushed it off of the tomb and surprisingly it was heavier than I imagined.

            I looked down to see a very familiar face, peacefully asleep. I squeezed my hand above Cicero’s pale lips and watched my deep crimson blood filter between his lips.

            “Good evening Father.” I stated proudly.

            Ancient yellow eyes opened, life glowing behind the black centers. Manic laughter filled my ears.

            “Good evening, Sweet.”