An Angel's Revenge

[FireAngel]

”Blood.” the flames whispered.

”Blood and pain.”

A whisper could be over-looked. This was a shout, a throbbing, rippling scream that was like an assault, carried through the burn of flames dancing black and red inside a massive onyx goblet, the bowl of which easily twice the size of his head, upon an obsidian dais, echoing like a triumphant prayer. It howled victory. It summoned. It pleaded. It demanded that proper attention be given to the hoarse voice that bled those rousing words over the Alter of Erosis, with mad eyes glistening the reflection of that hellish fire that dipped and swayed in hypnotic, hissing undulation from the cauldron, with insanity causing the hands to tremble as they were stretched with fingers wide-splayed in utter supplication and attentive command all at once.

”Blood and pain, in Your name, Erosis. My fingers still stained with her blood... Master!”

The final word was a screech into the obsidian and crimson flames, the heat rippling in waves from the huge chalice seemed to carry the cry of the priest in black robes, the flicker and play of light dancing off black fire embroidered on the hem of the garment giving it the appearance of licking and crawling up the fabric in hissing greed.

When a tongue of blue fire spiraled and snapped, spinning out from the center of the black and red fire, writhing above the rest, it illuminated a slim man with a tensile strength apparent in the wiry arms, but more than that, it showed the blood-stained hands, crimson drying to a streaked rust color that coated his palms and was embedded under his nails; it showed the scratches like claw-marks raking over his cheeks, tiny droplets of blood welled to the surface and dried there so that it seemed for an instant he had rubies imbedded beneath the skin of his features; it showed the twisted curl of lips as his panting breath marked the state of the priest’s excitement.

”Erosis’ Champion…”

Two words, a hushed whisper of awe that could barely be termed words over an exhaled breath, marking the identity of eyes that the flames shift into the narrowed, almond shape of, tongues of fire licked at the pair of orbs - eyes that suddenly pinion him to his place. Those snarling hellfire flames lashed up, snapping at the icy blue flame that wrapped around the seething mass, spreading out thin tongues of the Blue Flames of Eternity that quickly consumed the flame of the Demon God. Heat lapped over the room in waves from the great onyx goblet, heavy and oppressive now with those twin eyes gazed from the nest of brilliant blue flames, a look of such marked intensity that the middle-yeared priest felt the muscles in his legs quiver at the knees with the effort to remain upright under the very real weight of the eyes of Death Living upon the priest of Erosis.

In vivid relief, a mosaic of those hypnotic eyes burning through flames glittered on wall behind that alter, tiny flicks of light sparkling and dancing over the thousands of tiny gemstones that the torches ringing the temple caused to flicker and sparkle with a myriad of facets, a gaze that was suddenly dulled when the reality was crushed down like a hellish inferno. The priest gasped for air, hot and acrid, feeling like it was searing his throat, a hot, stifling grasp constricting his lungs, his eyes bulging when the mortal man felt the presence of the Champion of the Demon God respond to his urgent plea, a tangible servant to a dark throne from where Erosis ruled on high over the Ninth Level of Hell. Before sweat had a chance to gather upon his brow, the vicious heat saw it evaporating, consuming him in a forceful grip.

And while she was not physically in that black marble temple dedicated to the exaltation of Erosis, the significance of those eyes craft of blue flame, eyes that seem to lash up and out from that onyx chalice, was a significance that the priest of Erosis recognized instantly. The attention of the Death Angel shot a quiver of excitement through the lanky figure.

”Why do you seek Erosis?”

That voice hissed and moved from everywhere and no where, it rippled on a wave of heat and chilled to the bone. Fire in the black pits seethed. Flames on the torches snapped. He was not so over-awed from the heated kiss of those flames undulating and reaching for the blue fire licking up from the cauldron that the priest did not notice, and by that singular act was confident in her identity. No false fire-sham, but in truth the Champion of the Demon God and His Death Angel, the Seraph Chaos Angel of Fire and Death spoke, and flames reached for the mere ideal of the woman, longing to be back in her powerful grasp.

”I have an offering…”

Somehow, somehow, he managed to make his voice slide past the lips that were splitting with the blistering heat that crackled like lightning, the upraised hands quivering as they gracefully lowered, slowly, inch by inch, the palms displayed to the cauldron of blue flame. Madness sent an unnaturally bright gleam, flickered to life in the dark eyes, madness that masked reason, madness that compelled a corrupted soul. Through the Champion would his abject plea that favor for the acts committed in Erosis’ name be bestowed on the priest of the Demon God be carried to those sought-after ears. The blue flames called to his soul, whispering sultry, fiery secrets that scorched away sanity.

Legs that had been rooted to the spot found themselves moving towards the dais in a slow, shuffling step that caused the black robes to sway like fiery shadows whispering over the temple floor, his dark eyes fixated on the gaze that watched him through the flames. She would take his supplication to Erosis.

”I have an offering of the blood and pain – of a priestess of Brigid.”

The pause was significant enough that the blue fire shimmered in the cauldron, and then the final step was taken, the distance between man and alter breeched and those uplifted hands were thrust into the seething, spiraling blue fire. Resistant at first, tongues of flame parted and then began to lick with a primal frenzy at the bloody flesh, sizzling and hissing as the heat suddenly had ample fodder in flesh and bone for the flame. At first, there was nothing, and then there was heat. Heat so intense it burned white-hot and accompanied by an agony that was almost mind-numbing as the flames seemed to titter in glee to the feasting they accepted, coiling around the offending limbs and lapping over his fingers, flesh torn free from bone, tendons dangling limply for a split instant before shriveling in flame, curling up to sear the bleached-white bone fingers that suddenly jerked and twitched.

A spiraling scream warbled from his lips as the heat and agony combined into a blinding mixture that came as flesh and fat sizzled in a hot ash that burned with a violent intensity, his eyes glistening with a bright shimmer of madness as they stared into those burning eyes cast in blue flames, until his mortal body could withstand the heat that rippled and suffocated around him no longer. Dark eyes rolled back into his head, he gave a shuddering squeak, a tiny gasp, before the shards of pain coalesced into one bright explosion of darkness in his head, sending him stumbling back and falling in a shrieking, writhing heap to the black marble floor.

She watched, impassive, as the figure of the priest shook, felt the sweet, bright metallic flavor that stained the limbs thrust into her rippling, seething flames and then those eyes narrowed as fury suddenly swept through the Seraph Chaos Angel of Fire and Death. Those flames lashed out, hot and destructive, so very hot they filled the Temple of Erosis with a wild heat that caused the air to ripple and pulse and throb, reaching to the black-stoned ceiling so that the entire structure groaned and shifted in outraged protest to the assault. Fire felt the blinding agony of the priest as he writhed on the onyx floor of the temple, his arms smoking, charred stumps, gone hands to mid-forearm, from thrusting both those limbs into the shimmering Blue Flames of Eternity that seethed in the obsidian goblet atop the dais-alter. She felt his agony and sat impassive under the battery of his echoing screams.

His screams seemed to go on for forever, horrible and shrill, until at last it seemed the throbbing, bleeding pain became too much for his poor, mortal mind, tormented by that violent attention of Chaos Angel and Champion of the Demon God; his eyes rolling back into his head as consciousness left him between one whimpering gasp and another. And then the blue fire collapsed in on itself, the Blue Flames of Eternity falling back down in again as those eyes glared with a livid fury over the fallen figure of the unconscious priest to her Master. They swiftly seemed to blink out of existence, leaving the massive onyx chalice filled with the black and red flames again.

[FireAngel]

Black and red hellfire flickered in the brass fire-pits settled on either side of the dais where that massive, obsidian throne sat, hissing and seething with a rippling undulation that was like a serpentine fury of deadly rage, mimicking and mirroring the image of the Seraph Chaos Angel of Fire and Death kneeling before that throne. They snapped hungry, fiery maws at the alabaster flesh, lashing like the tail of a whip slithering over the floor in thin, writhing tendrils – flames that seethed and squirmed as if living pets, snakes of fire, coiling over the floor and reaching for the ceiling and snarling in the great Throne Room of the Demon God. The massive black marble chamber was empty save for the kneeling woman, slim and taunt and vibrating with a contained rage, a massive figure on the obsidian throne and an immense, glossy black panther, a single flame licking the inky pupil of his gleaming eyes as he crouched on his belly at Fire’s side.

She had strode through those doors as bold as her master Himself, black leather thigh high boots making not a sound as she moved with a predatory grace that was as feral as the feline that moved at her side, the muscles under the sable pelt rippling much the way her own lithe, sculpted figure gleamed under the black leather that hugged lean curves like a jealous lover. Great black wings were folded against her back in a myriad of creases and tucks so that they flowed like an ebon cape from her shoulders, framing the sleek body as she stalked boldly past the pair of greater demons standing with serrated blades on either side of those doors – an ‘honor guard’ to her master.

The moment she crossed the thresh-hold of that doorway, a rippling burst of pure, dark energy seemed to explode into life, running up her arms and coating her alabaster flesh like fiery pitch, crawling from the cuffs around slender wrists through her and into her dark, fiery heart, settling with a hot, malicious ooze in that empty place where her soul should rest. Those cuffs pulsed and seethed with her Master’s own essence, matching the pulsing pitch of the obsidian orb that hovered over His throne, her soul and His bound in that sphere and boiling and rubbing so intimately closely together that she instantly felt Him, and knew that Erosis, the Demon God who ruled the Ninth level of Hell on high from His black marble palace, felt her – His Champion, the General of His Demonic legions -- Death Living.

Those doors slammed shut with a silent ‘whoosh’, instantly barring the pair of demon’s outside, her head dropping slightly as she crossed that chamber so that long, crimson curls tumbled over the savage beauty of her features and she glared at Him through a thick curtain of gleaming locks with eyes that shimmered from a pale, icy blue hue to a deep, bloody crimson the closer she drew to Him. He sat taller than any mortal man and with broad shoulders rippling with powerful muscles under the creamy silk shirt, the chiseled features of the Demon God devastatingly handsome and framed by thick, raven hair… were it not for the fact that He stared at her with glittering, soul-less black eyes, burning with an inky flame of hatred and destruction.

Sculpted limbs flexed as she slowly kneeled before the only thing in existence the FireAngel would ever bend her knee to, and she did so with a burning hatred simmering in the fire coursing through her veins. Oh yes, she loathed the demon she served, with every fiber of her being, she loathed Him. Saracen followed his mistress’ lead and dropped low to his belly, the panther stretching almost prostrate before the throne, his slender tail flicking slightly the only display of his agitation at being so near to Erosis.

He sat there and said nothing, forcing her to speak first. Fire found she had to lower her gaze from Him again, one hand lowering to rest the palm flat on the floor before her as her kneeled posture displayed a respect that she near-choked on for giving to Him. He felt her rage, her hatred, and reveled in it, and she was enraged that she fed him so easily, that he manipulated her so thoroughly and with such godly ease. But the Seraph Angel of Fire knelt before the throne of Erosis for one reason and one reason only, and it had naught to do with the fact that He owned her soul. She knelt to His throne so that her children would never know the burden of bearing His wrath, of committing what acts she committed in His name. The cuffs at her wrists that had been worn at first as a marker of her chosen servitude, for she served this Hellish beast willingly, bonded over to Him her soul, had slowly become burdens, invisible chains that shackled her to the great obsidian throne He gazed down at her from.

“Master…”

Her voice was low and husky, and the instant she spoke, the black and red flames began to reach for her, rippling and yawning as if eager to be coiled around that slender, alabaster figure and lapping at the sleek limbs, mingling in the brilliant crimson locks and lick the lithe curves. The feline at her side let his eyes wander to those reaching flames, but Fire ignored them, her head slowly lifting a fraction to find that His black eyes were burning down on her in silent fury and expectation.

Before she could speak again, He was in motion with a deep, dark growling snarl, lunging off that massive throne faster than it seemed possible one his size could move, His left hand drawing back as He towered over her and then letting it fly in a vicious, backhanded swipe over the delicate ivory cheek curtained by the silky curls. She saw Erosis moving and barely had time to brace herself before a sharp *CRACK* split the throne room and a white-hot explosion of light followed swiftly by teasing glimpses of darkness spun through her head, her slender body jerking her from her kneeling posture so that He almost sent her sprawling with the force of the blow.

“Your flames tasted the hands of my priest, did they?”

His voice was a low, sibilant hiss that crawled with pure power, matching the dark burn of his eyes as they glared down at her. Fire felt the tingling throb begin in the delicate curve of her jaw and knew that a pink spot would soon mar her icy pale skin. She felt the bite of cold marble under her black leather clad hip, felt the rough scraping of the floor under her palm where the nimble warrioress had caught herself from falling face-first from the power of His blow, heard the low growl of the panther as her familiar vocally protested the mistreatment of his mistress under the hand of her God. The urge to draw Fury, the Demon-Blade and God-Slayer, from those throbbing cuffs, to unleash that fiery weapon that could lay the God low, was almost overwhelming, and something she tamped down on by sheer dint of will.

Muscles gleamed under the alabaster flesh as she shifted on the floor, gliding back to her knees and from her knees, standing slowly at the foot of that dais, at the base of those three steps, and her head slowly tilt back so that He could see the burning hatred glittering in her crimson eyes, hatred she would never voice.

“Your priest’s hands tasted the blood of my sister first.”

Those words were a low snarl, her ruby lips curled so that her savage beauty was set in lines of dark, terrible rage, the slim figure dwarfed by the massive man standing over her, His eyes glittering like inky wells to oblivion. She breathed the fire that flowed through her veins, her eyes crackling like the black and red flames dancing in the pits to either side of His throne. The tingling pain in her cheek grew to something fierce, and she knew it was Erosis. He wanted her to hurt, delighting in delivering a tormenting pain on the slight figure that would have broken her had she not had a strength racing through her that He could not harness nor tame, no matter how the God had tried. It was the strength that kept her shackled to His throne that had her glaring hatred at Him now.

And she did not back down from Him, confident that He would not kill her. He needed her too much; Fury would accept no other to wield it and the flames burned in her veins. She was Death Living, one of the many aspects of Death, and as she grew stronger, so did He, like a symbiotic leech.

“A priestess of Brigid. Goddess of Light!”

He roared at her, the handsome features contorting in a display of rage, fingers curling into fists at His sides as the effort to keep from striking her down again almost took control of the Demon God. A thin wisp of smoke curled from flared nostrils as Erosis seethed at His Champion.

“And my twin sister. Mark my words, Erosis: she is not to be touched. If any hand shall strike her down, shall be no hand but my own. My vengeance will fall swiftly on those who do.”

Fire did not rage at him, but spoke with a low, controlled fury etched into her words that was displayed in every line of her taunt, sleek body, her eyes gleaming with a deadly promise that would have sent any but her Master quivering in terror for the retribution whispering in those eyes – cold, merciless, ruthless retribution. The flickering play of flames over the pale features highlighted a savage beauty that was as chilling as it was captivating, as if she were a flame sheathed in ice, a glory that beckoned one to draw closer, then burned them alive when they did.

“You know My Law, my beautiful Death Angel.”

He just almost purred those words to her, His eyes glittering with an inky delight in the dark hatred that she radiated. Truly, Erosis considered the slim woman before him, she had become the perfect Champion, the perfect creation – deadly, ruthless, pitiless. And she knew well the mark of His law; No priest of the Demon God shall be harmed that His Death Angel not rain His vengeance down on the offender’s head. Her crimson eyes gleamed up at Him, knowing that He would enact that law on her Himself should she fell a priest of the Demon God.

Those crimson lips, so lush and soft and provocatively mobile, curled in a sneer. How simple He thought sometimes. The mind of the warrioress and general was in motion, looking for those loopholes to His laws.

“Oh, I know your law…. Master.”

The sneering emphasis on that last word made it hardly a term of respect at all, her scorn laced with the loathing that was set like ice on the pale features. The sleek, black feline slung himself to his feet at her side as the slender, lithe woman gave a mocking bend at her waist to the powerful, broad figure standing atop the dais, His eyes like the flames that did not touch her. Her burning, crimson orbs narrowed at Him as she slowly took a step back.

“I assure you, Erosis…. I am well aware of your law. Your priest shall live.”

The huge, hammered brass doors at the far end of the room swung open again, her eyes burning up at the God as she took a step back, her lips twisted in a smirk as she slowly dropped her head again. Black demon wings whispered softly on her back with each step she took, black leather thigh high boots making not a sound on the thick carpet, Saracen mimicking his mistress again and matching her backwards step for backwards step. The black and red hellflames in those huge brass pits reached for her lithe, sleek curves with hungry, needy fingers, roaring their frustration when she seemed to deny their aching want to embrace that svelte body by way of a thin, shimmer of orange/yellow flames slowly crawling to life over the pale alabaster skin.

He read the silky whispers of menace in those blood-red eyes as she looked up at him again, never slowing in her backward step while the bright glow of flames curling around her lean body, the fire appearing to feed off her flesh and yet, she seemed to gleam with a pale, lustrous glow for it, the flames reaching up to coil long tongues through the crimson locks and shimmer in her glittering red eyes that met His black gaze.

“… Fire….”

The word was a warning that she smiled slowly at, pausing at the thresh-hold to His Throne Room again, the pair of Greater demons on the other side of that door shifting slightly in discomfort for how the Demon Mistress blazed in flame. The panther pinned his ears flat to his head and hissed at the one closest to him, long talons extending from his massive claws like great, ivory daggers, lethal and ready to split the gut of the demon open. The flames crawling over her lean body rippled, throbbing with a pulse that matched the beat and pitch of her pulsing heart, a slender blue tongue licking through that fire and then expanding out until she was haloed in an icy blue blaze – her own Blue Flames of Eternity, a fire Erosis could never control, to His eternal rage and frustration.

“I give you my word, Master… Your priest shall live. But he will never lay hands on my sister again.”

Oh yes… He would live, and he would not lay hands on Silver again, her own Blue Flames of Eternity feasting on his flesh had seen to that. But there were worse torments than death, and her eyes whispered this to her Master as those blue flames flared brilliantly around her, hissing and spiraling with a vicious hunger that split the very fabric of reality open. There were far worse torments than death, and she knew precisely where and how to have them exacted, and just whom she would loose to do it. Her Avatar, The Avatar of Death Living, the living death angel, was out of the reach of Erosis’ control.

Those blue flames snarled, lashing out, then grew to a blinding brilliance, causing the pair of demons to rear back and shield their eyes from the brightness that Fire was consumed in -- something that burned hotter than the sun and sent them shrieking and had Saracen bolting down the hall, escaping the rage and retribution that would come when the flash dimmed and the Seraph Chaos Angel of Fire and Death was gone from the black marble palace of the god, indeed, gone from the lowest depths of the Underworld entirely.