The Necrodancer

Chapter 19- Dramatic

 Carlisle found Iriel on the top of Big Ben.

Correction: Carlisle found the massive glowing tear, spitting spirits out into the world in the middle of the air on the top of Big Ben.

Using Cicero's scythe, the angel had torn a rift between Earth and Purgatory. As Cicero had told him: Purgatory was everywhere, but now it was leaking out into the world of the living. Spirits, terrifying shadowy figures with clawed hands, long, wispy arms, black holes for mouths and eyes, reverting to his true form, all Carlisle had to do was jump to land on the very top of the giant clock.

Iriel immediately turned around, but slowly, like the dramatic bitch he was. "Well, Carlisle, done cleaning up the Thomas all over the office already?" the angel called out, chuckling.

Carlisle morphed back into his humanesque form. "That scythe does not belong to you. You are unworthy of touching anything the reaper has touched."

"What makes you think you are worthy?!" the angel shrieked. "What makes you think you are worthy of anything?! Demons think they are entitled to souls, to deals... but you all are filthy creatures of darkness! You belong in Hell for a reason!"

"Surely, not every being in Hell belongs there, as, clearly, not every being belongs in Heaven," Carlisle growled, his eyes glowing red violet with rage.

"You dare question my holiness?!" the angel shouted, turning Cicero's scythe into a longsword.

"I do not question it." He took a fighting stance. "I renounce it."

The clock struck midnight, the entire clock vibrating with the reverberating chiming of the gigantic bell inside of the clock.

The angel, appearing as Forrest Aingeal, sprouted a colossal pair of feathery white wings and shot at the demon, who morphed into his true form to take on the divine deity. It was a disturbing sight for Carlisle to take in, all the more reason why he wanted them both dead. He had to remind himself as he tore at the angel's wings that this wasn't his ex-master whom he was fighting, as Forrest Aingeal was gone.

The Big Ben rooftop was engulfed in a blur of black and white.

Screams of terrified humans all throughout the town could be heard as the spirits of Purgatory rampaged the streets, never harming any humans but certainly causing chaos regardless solely with their presence amongst the living. Spirits behaved differently when they were stuck on Earth. They became desperate to find their way to where they belonged, whether that was Heaven or Hell; either way, they had to get to Purgatory first.

Suddenly, the pressure dropped so dramatically that the two stopped fighting, separating to either side of the rooftop.

Out from the tear on the rooftop that the angel had made popped a tall cloaked figure, though not as tall as either of the beings on the roof. Ghastly green light surrounded the being like an unholy halo and shot from the tear, as did thick black fog, pouring out and spreading across the roof like the waves of an inky ocean. The tear was zipped shut by the tip of the scythe they were holding in their skinless, muscleless hands. Their black curls, now streaked with stark white, swayed around them like seaweed in the current.

Carlisle's eyes nearly popped out of his head, but not in comparison to Iriel.

"'Sup, sluts?" Cicero chuckled, their permanent smile widening in their skull, as they twirled their scythe expertly in one hand, the handle knocking against the bones of their palm and fingers. "I love dramatic entrances."

Iriel stared at the sword in his hands. "Wha—" He stammered. "How did you..."

"I'm just that bitch, huh?" The souls that had been released by the angel were beginning to flow back towards Cicero. "Ah, that's better."