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Shadows Beneath

CHAPTER NINE

The night was unusually cold. Personally, Belial was more fond of warmer

places and wholly different climates, not to mention he was more akin to Latin and Eastern

cultures; they seemed to go better with his peculiar personality and temper, despite he had been

worshipped in the Harz Mountains and he could count important deeds in the ancient Britain. His

past as the Necromancer, Demonlord and Archdemon marked many cultures in his wake but after

the strangest turn of his existence, Belial had deserted from the Armies of the Abyss, turning back

to the Angelic Host to be judged. To be honest, he had not exactly repented. It would be more

accurate to say he once again followed his own particular interests… or at least, that’s what he

thought. Belial had among other things the ability to deceive himself – or at least, part of himself

could deceive the other. After a rather unusual day at ‘work’ in the London University

Campus as professor, Beltrán Oliveros had found himself idle for the rest of the evening. Alone with

his thoughts, he went out for a walk. He had so many things to think about after all the strange

encounters of the day. His wanderings took him to the old part of the City still imbued with energies

from the past. A fight had taken place, he could clearly perceive and see. Beltrán turned invisible to

human eyes and crossed the perimeter set by the police with their yellow plastics, gathering his

wards to go unnoticed. He watched in awe. He could strongly perceive Azrael’s trace, for even

the slightest trace of her was more than enough for him to know she had been around. She was

gone however and he strongly wished…

Belial frowned slightly, trying to curb his feelings. A Fallen on trial has to be

patient and wait. He concentrated and carefully read the previous events – the two Morris had

fought. One held the Silver Herald. The other, a stronger version of Moloch’s taint.

Moloch… Belial tilted his head in melancholy. The stars where shining above. He turned and

left the ruins.

The streets were filled with cars and neon lights. The place had changed, a

few streets away from the ruins. Beltrán walked in the cold night, a perpetual dialogue in his mind.

He turned and entered an alley, crossed a street and wandered into a park with tall trees, the same

one where he saw Raziel before his demise. The night was cold and deep. Belial walked down a

small trail and after some time he perceived a familiar scent of human sacrifice. From the smell of

the blood, he could tell the human still lived. Belial stayed still for a second, then continued on his

walk till a strange scene came into view in the shade of an old, twisted tree in a secluded spot away

from the lightened area. It wasn’t very artistic and the sacrificing ground was full of

imperfections, hurriedly traced on the ground. Belial frowned. It was a simple man, busy trying to

kill a woman with very little skill. An impatient demon waited in the tree branches, obviously

annoyed. Belial dropped some of his wards, so the demon could see him in his human form. Belial

cast a binding spell, leaving the humans in suspended animation. The demon’s eyes

flashed and a circlet of fire rose around Belial, trying to burn him. A silver fire engulfed the red

flames, then both died out. The demon leapt on the ground, his whip-like tail wrapped around his

body, eyeing Belial with yellow eyes. He caused a greater fire to rise around him like a wall of

flames and it was equally eliminated.

“Nice trick”, the demon cautiously said, for he couldn’t yet make out

exactly what the stranger was. “You put out my fire. Are you a Great One from Below? I don’t

think you want a share of this”, he said licking his lip as he motioned to the humans.

“It’s a very poor offering, as you’ve noticed”.

“It’s true. I am not interested – and it’s one of the worse works

I’ve ever seen”.

“That might be true…” The demon glared but still smiled, his scales glistening

in the dim resplendence of the sacrificing ground. “What then brings you here? Your wards are

deep. There was a time London was infested with angels… but that is no more.. Unless…” The

demon cast him a suspicious glare. “Who are you?”

Belial smiled. “Can’t you decide where to classify me?”

The demon’s jaw set. “Let go of my dinner!”

Belial shrugged. “There was a time when I might have pleased you. You

can’t have those souls, though. I’m guessing you were going to kill the killer as

well”.

“Yes. He’s a dumbass pain”. The demon summoned a double ax. “It

might take me some time, but I’m sure I can chop your head off”, he declared “Great One or

not”. Belial slowly rose his hand and held his palm up. The demon thought at first he was going to

surrender and let go of his dinner, but then he saw a marking on the stranger’s palm in the

shape of a scythe… The demon howled. “You… you are the Necromancer, the damned angel

who tricked the demonlords!”

Belial blinked. “That one is new”, he muttered, summoning the Scythe of

Simara. The demon was pale in terror but he attacked – there was no use in showing fear. Belial

blocked the attack, spun the Scythe and chopped his head off. “I have bad habits”, he explained

as he collected the demon’s soul. He stuffed it in a small pot, sealed it and into his pocket it

went. Belial proceeded to remove the binding spell. The pole of the Staff hit the man’s back,

depriving his legs of motion. The woman had passed out, but the terrible cuts had already sealed

her fate. Invisible to their eyes, Belial had a slight feeling of compassion for her as her life came to

an end. Very slight. Belial collected the woman’s soul, sealed it into another pot and walked

away. The wind shook the branches with unusual violence. Making the Staff disappear and leaving

the park, he dropped his invisibility. He hadn’t changed his human form. Beltrán walked into

the night. It was the right time to go to that bar he recently discovered and get himself a drink.

Alistaire let out a steamy breath before lighting up a cigarette. He didn’t

normally smoke, but after waiting this long on such a cold night… hell, anything was worth doing if it

just warmed him up a bit. He sat idly under a tree and hidden behind several rocks in one of the

local parks not too far from his hotel, where he stayed with his partner, Ana Gordon. They were a bit

more than partners, but not too much more, considering their current relationship. He loved her,

but… there was just too much going on to expand their relationship. Or at least, that was what he

always told himself. He took a long drag on his cigarette before propping a fully-sheathed

Stormbringer on his shoulder. It jut out far above his head, but because the way the shadows

played on this part of the park, he and his blade were still practically invisible. His eyes were

sharp and his vision in the darkness almost as perfect as his vision at night. The only flaw was

that he couldn’t see as far as he’d like to be able to. Despite Ana’s wanting him to

join her at a local club, Alistaire just couldn’t pass up this opportunity to hunt. As soon as he

stepped out of the hotel, his creepy demon sense took over and drew him to where he was. All he

had to do now was wait for a visual of his quarry, because no matter how hard he tried, he could

never really use his demon sense to pinpoint and track fluently his prey.

He tossed his cigarette down and put the bud out with the hilt of a small knife

that he drew from his boot. He sighed and lolled his head back, looking up at the dark blanket of a

sky filled with little white dots. He shut his eyes and let out another breath.. and god knows how

much time had passed. He heard a stifled scream and his eyes fluttered open. He sat up quickly

and began to stalk the shadows, heading towards the origin of the sound. After a moment or two of

silence, he saw a man attempting to kill a woman, and his skill at doing so a horrid thing. He felt

obligated to try and help her when something caught his eye– his quarry. Grabbing his wicked

Claymore, Stormbringer, he moved closer and was no more than ten or fifteen paces away when

another figure suddenly shimmered into view. He ducked back into place when the other figure

suddenly appeared with as much sound as a pin dropping and watched as two fires burst around

him– it was definitely a him– and suddenly die out. The demon leaped to the ground and they

began to trade words. Feeling a bit uneasy, Alistaire drew his boot knife and pricked his palm,

drawing blood, and began to write a rune to mask his presence. It wasn’t a perfect spell, but it

would keep him hidden from magical detections. Or at least, magical detections that didn’t

involve heavenly or hellish doings.

Unable to fully make out their quiet voices, Alistaire crawled several paces

closer in time to hear the last bit of their conversation. “You… you are the Necromancer, the

damned angel who tricked the demonlords!” He caught as the demon lashed at the suddenly

armed man who was now not just a simple man. The demon was quickly cut down and Alistaire just

sat there in his shadow, nearly trembling in fear at what he had just witnessed. The man quickly

left the scene and, after only a slight moment, Alistaire collected himself and took a breath– and

began following him. I hope that rune holds up…, he thought to himself with a slight grin.

Belial pulled his coat around his ears as he walked. On the outer edge of the

park, a long row of 18th Century style street lamps tossed yellowish lights on a broad sidewalk.

Belial walked lazily. No one was waiting for him, so why to hurry up? He gazed up into the

night sky. There were a few rags of clouds but the stars still shone brightly to his unearthly eyes.

The lights in the city seemed to dim the starlight, but he could still clearly see constellations

humans would need a telescope to perceive. His heart ached but the pain had changed… for

she was distant, but not as distant as before. He opened his lips to mutter her name… but he

noticed he had allowed himself to be distracted and he was being followed. He perceived a human

soul and a ward to veil its presence. Somewhat tiredly, Belial turned and scrutinized the shadows

behind him.

Alistaire’s tracking was nearly flawless. He stepped into a very shallow

puddle once, and his metallic items jingled together on two separate occasions, but all in all– very

good tracking. He followed the man quite a distance while keeping a good distance himself. They

exited the park together, and he continued on for several paces until he stopped. Alistaire froze

and loosed the blade at his back, the tip of the scabbard nearly touching the ground; how he would

draw the blade was beyond any person’s logic, but he could do it, and very skillfully on top of

that. The man looked up and seemed to have the look of longing on his face. Alistaire could almost

sympathize for the man, as if he had lost a lover but not really. Knowing– albeit barely– what he

was sort of cut his sympathy short, however. He saw his lips move for just a second when–

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to follow me?”, Belial asked in a low voice

which was perfectly audible in an unnatural way. The nearest street lamp caused his tall form to

toss a strange shadow on the sidewalk distorting the outline of his long coat, almost in the fashion

of a winged form.

Alistaire swore silently and bit back the urge to duck back and hide, because it

would do him no good. The man, or whatever he truly was, was staring right at him through the

shadows. Hiding or running would do him no good, and give him the look of a coward, which he

was definitely not. If Alistaire was destined to die now, he would die with his sword in hand.

Holding onto his reserve with an iron grip, Alistaire stepped into the yellow lights that the street

lamps tossed about onto the sidewalk and kept his hands in his pockets. He was wearing all

black– black slacks, black boots with metallic-silver clampings, a velvet black shirt that clung to his

chest and a heavy, black leather jacket that flowed down to mid-thigh. He also wore a black choker

with a silver-cross hanging by a short chain and wore a wooden rosary that dangled down above

his heart. He looked to be unarmed, saved for the huge sword across his back, but he was far from

it.

“To tell ya the truth,” he began, his Scottish accent thick, “I don’t think

it’s a very safe or wise thing tae do– followin’ ya, I mean. But ye know..” His eyes

hardened a bit, the yellow light playing with his light-blue eyes, making a golden hue. “I do what I

do to help make this world a bit safer for everyone. If that means riskin’ mah neck at every

turn, well, then I’ll go ahead and risk it.”

Belial’s silver eyes brightened and his shoulders trembled with a brief,

unwilling snicker at the man’s words. He recognized Alistaire from the University hall that

morning when Rishta tackled him down but Belial showed no sign of recognition. “That’s very

brave to say”, he softly said, narrowing his eyes. “Safer for everyone… That’s very ambitious.

However, what does it got to do with me?” Belial’s eyes shimmered dangerously with inner

silver light as he cast a head-to-toes look at the Scotsman with an air of slight contempt. “Why do

you follow me?”

Alistaire leveled his eyes with the man’s own and made no sign of his

inner thoughts. His face was as hard as stone and the way the lights cast down it’s glare

only increased that effect. He stood with his back arced and his body lax, as if he wasn’t

scared at all. Quite the contrary. Alistaire was frightened out of his mind. Why? He couldn’t

say. There was just a feeling in the air. Something colder than whatever the London night could

produce. His muscles tensed involuntarily as the man spoke again, and Alistaire tried his best to

keep his poker gesture up. “Brave, stupid. It’s all the same.” He responded simply. He let

his eyes touch the man’s and a shiver went down his spine, but he continued on. He

wouldn’t be put down like a cowering dog. The contempt he felt from the man only

strengthened his resolve and leveled off his sense of being, and a lopsided grin spread over his

lips. It was a dangerous grin.

“Well, I suppose I should tell ye. Ain’t no use in gettin’ into a brawl and

havin’ no reasons, huh?” He moved his feet once again, and it felt as if he were trying to

uproot a tree at every step. He leaned up against the lamp post. “I saw ya back there– in the park.

You killed that demon like it was nothing, and that ain’t normal for a human. Which you’re not,

I’m sure. That means you’re some other hell spawn or something, ’cause angels

don’t walk this earth no more. If they did, a lot of things would be different, I can tell ya that.”

He nodded, punctuating his sentence.

A smirk formed upon Belial’s lips and it became more pronounced as

Alistaire spoke. He could perceive his fear both as an scent and from the fluctuations in his aura,

but it wasn’t what darkly amused the Fallen. It was his last phrase which called the most for

his attention. “That’s an adventurous statement”, he said. “However, I still don’t see why

you follow me… unless you want to challenge me. You’d do well to mind your own

businesses, mister. As for what I might be… you’ve been watching too much television.

Demons? I don’t know what you are talking about…” Belial pronounced the last phrase

slowly and emphatically. “I am a simple man going out for a walk”.

Alistaire kept his lax stance and crossed his arms as he leaned against the

lamp post. His fear was still at a heightened state, but now… he felt something in the back of his

mind. An almost soothing feeling. His grin stayed on his face with his new found sense of

confidence, and he barked a quiet laugh as Belial finished his words. “Don’t know what a

demon is, huh? Ah, well. Can’t blame ya for wanting to just chill out or maybe, stay

cool..” He began moving again with much more ease and emphasized his words with gaudy

hand gestures. He was now only three or so meters away from Belial– perfect striking distance for

either of them. “A simple man out for a walk is all ye are.. heh.. Alright, I’ll give ya that. I

don’t think you were out for any real purpose in that park, other than for that little walk of

yours.” He ran a hair through his blonde hair and tilted his head. “Though, as for you being a

man, well, I just can’t give ya that one. Nuh uh. Sorry.”

Belial’s brow twitched in irritation. “Well I guess I must feel relieved that

you believe me”, he said with a forced smile in irony as he narrowed his eyes again. “Frankly, I

don’t see why I should mind your appreciation about my nature. So if you are not going to do

something else, I’ll leave. Have a nice life”. Belial continued on his way, lazily walking

down the sidewalk. However, he was alert as he did.

Alistaire’s own brow twitched when Belial turned and walked off. This

wasn’t how it was supposed to be…, he thought to himself. I was to follow him and see

what other things he was up to, to see his true nature.. little things like that! His thoughts

trailed on like that for several moments as Belial continued on down the side walk. Alistaire

considered following him again, this time a bit more directly with Stormbringer drawn. Even if he

was some all-powerful demon from hell, his sword could more or less even the odds for as long as

Alistaire could stay alive. He watched Belial take a few more steps and he let out a breath before

running after him. He made sure to keep his steps at a casual jog and let out the aura that he had

no intention at striking him– just yet, anyways. Any demon could feel that. Hell, a normal

warrior could.

“Arright, I think we started off all wrong and everything.” He said as he

stopped just two paces behind Belial. A bit too close for comfort, he thought. “Okay, so

maybe yer not a demon. Okay– but still. Ye did some awfully strange shit back in that bloody

park.” His fear was practically gone. In its place was sense of curiosity. “I’ve never seen

any o’ it done before. Or, well, I saw that fire trick done a few times, but the scythe thing?

Totally new.”

Belial couldn’t really decide what annoyed him the most: if it was

Alistaire’s manners, his persistence or the fact that he didn’t have the slightest notion of

who he was talking to. It was definitely best he didn’t know, but still it somehow annoyed

Belial… yet he didn’t want to be ‘found’ again by mortals in general. “New,

eh…?” Belial’s frown deepened. “I don’t think you pretend to get explanations from me. I

insist, I’m just a man who’s out for a walk”. He didn’t turn to look at Alistaire, who

was indeed too close for comfort. Belial felt tempted to give him a personal demonstration and

collect his soul in the process. However, he knew he wasn’t supposed to do that… yet.

“May I point out to your notice, you are not welcome”. Belial headed

for the bars and nightclubs area, already visible from their location. Hopefully he’d miss the

man in the crowd. Yet he could perceive this man had something akin to a demon sense. If he were

still into his old activities, he’d find his soul some use. However… Belial looked at Alistaire

from the corner of his eye. “How did you get that thing past the Customs?”, he asked, alluding to his

sword.

Alistaire would’ve clasped Belial around the shoulders, or slapped his

back a few times– all while laughing– but for some reason, Alistaire had this strange feeling that

him doing so would result in… not good things. Instead, Alistaire just gave a light chuckle and

tucked his hands into his pant pockets. Not a good place to be, in case of a fight, but he was

confident in his reflexes and his ability to resist any and all spells. He’d be alright…. I

hope… “Well, insist all you want. I know what I saw, and what I see is usually correct because,

hey– I’m not simply going by what I see. Y’know?” He shrugged and let a half-arrogant

grin spread across his lips. He continued to follow Belial, despite what he wanted, and into the

night-owl’s district where clubbing, drinking, and sex was all rolled into one. A perfect place to

find demons and the like, and boy, was Alistaire’s demon sense going off here.

“Well, I may not be wanted.. but until you get rid of me, I’m prolly not

gona be going anywhere too soon.” He shrugged again and was a bit taken back when Belial asked

of his sword, but he took it all in stride. “It’s not too hard, y’see. My sword’s a…

special one, and, well… I can get it all over the place without too much looks. Travel by land and of

my own means, really, so I don’t worry about gettin’ my bag checked every ten minutes.

Of course, I can’t really carry it around during the day, but.. well, you get the general gist of

it.”

Autumn entered the club dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a shimmering

top. Strapped across her shoulder was her camera tucked away in it’s little leather case. So

she looked kinda of like a nutcase tourist toting it about, but nightlife was always the best time to

get photographs of the supernatural. Society would’ve shocked to know how many demons,

vampires, and overall creepy things liked to go clubbing. On second thought, most parents like to

claim all the ‘wrong’ sorts did and would only be proven right.

Picking a table out of the way of any crowds, she frowned at her phone

beeping at her belt.

Landed in jail. Shut up. Send J ASAP.

Autumn laughed out loud, surely getting a few odd looks. Quickly she typed in

her short message and smirked to herself.

Told U so.

Simple. Effective. Not that Joz was anywhere around, thank god. Though

Autumn would be sure to get rid of her if she spotted her. She could have gone to bail out Trevor

herself… but what was the fun in that? Served him right, and would keep him out of trouble!

Dancing forms of light and shadow
Torn by devil’s dragons of ancient rhyme
Singing praises of a lover’s arms
Heaven’s angel with eyes so kind

I don’t believe in anything but what I see today
It’s never just a simple thing when the world gets in the way
All I am is what I do and that’s all I wanted to say
All I have are the simple things, and baby that’s okay

Michael plucked at the strings of his guitar as he sang the lyrics of his music

to the tune. The club had just opened, though he and his band mates were still preparing for the

show later. Golden blonde hair hung in his eyes as he sang, his complete attentions trained to the

words of the song. When he played, it was like memories of a forgotten past he never had would

dance in his mind, teasing his senses.

Sweet angel of mine cease your tears
Living in a dream is never what it seems
But when I look in to your eyes
Time stops everything
My guitar for a kiss and my soul for those words
Just say ‘I love you’ and my heart is yours

I’ll never fear the darkness your light shines my way
Heavens gates aren’t really closed to those who run away
Dancing to an angel’s song we’ll remember the love of yesterday

Only a few stray people had ambled into the club so far. The same pack of

girls that seemed to be at every Forsaken gig was in the corner trying to catch his eye with

slim fitting clothes and painted smiles. But never have they been able to divert his attention as he

played. He was consumed by the sounds of the music, the words of the song. The song ended and

his guitar aside, Michael was all charm and all smiles. He talked with the girls, flirted as he always

did before leaving them to giggle and sigh. At the bar, he slid into a seat and ordered a drink before

he and his mates began the next set. Tonight he was uneasy, he doubted it was performance

nerves… on stage he was always at ease. But he couldn’t seem to shake the feelings of

discomfort. Sticking a cigarette into his mouth, he fumbled around his pockets for his lighter.

Even though they had left the college, Ana still couldn’t shake the

strange feeling she got from the boy back in the music room; after a nice bath, a not-so-nice

argument with her partner Alistaire (which resulted in some well-deserved make-up attention) and

an early dinner- Ana decided to take a look around the place where they were going to live. Of

course, things between her and Ali hadn’t gotten too far- the two of them always managed to

stop before anything that would make them more than partners would ensue. It was upsetting, but

the girl was used to rejection, if that’s what she could call it…the more time they spent

together, the closer they had gotten- and since the first day they met it grew. There had been big

fights, the occasional sharp tongue- but never once had either of them been so angry that they

would leave.

One would definitely leave after what had happened in their room a few hours

ago. Nobody was angry, it was the exact opposite- but she had to leave so she wouldn’t crowd

him. This time, she told him exactly where she was going- and that she wanted him to come

along…when he was ready. Alistaire knew exactly where the club was- it wasn’t far from their

hotel. Ana really wanted him there with her, she had a feeling that something might start up. Or at

least she hoped. As she sat at the bar, the sound of giggling girls could be heard; Ana simply shook

her head and asked for another scotch. It felt damn good to be out of that miniskirt, and back into

some jeans. Before she left the kids in the music room, she had handed each of them a card- along

with the specific date that she was supposed to come to the lecture in the next week. Maybe one of

them would call her to bring up some sort of sighting- and then finally she and Ali would be back in

business.

By the time Ana received her drink, a man came by and sat at the bar- fiddling

and searching for his lighter. “Smoking will kill you, don’t you know that?” Ana always had to

put her 2 cents in- even when people didn’t want to hear it. Without really thinking about it, she

reached into her jacket and pulled out the book of matches from her hotel. “Here you go…”

Michael took the match book with a nod of thanks. “Hey.. so does drinking,

sex, and spicy food… I’ll be damned if I give up all the good stuff.” He grinned, leaning back

lazily in his seat. Giving her the once over, he immediately decided she wasn’t the screaming

fan girl type. In fact, she had the look of someone who was damn capable in more ways than one. He

liked those kind of girls. Sometimes a decent conversation was all a guy wanted. …sometimes.

After lighting his cigarette, he flipped the matches in his hand noting the hotel name. “In town on

business or pleasure?” Michael asked as he offered the book back to her.

Ana always asked for a separate cup of ice, in which she chewed and sucked

on. The girl liked to think that it was a nervous reaction, but it was due to the fact that she was

indeed sexually frustrated- but mostly, it was because of her anemia. With her mouth closed, she

rolled her tongue over the small ice cube and brought her glass to her lips. After a sip, she

answered him. “Well, we just moved here…it’s pretty nice so far.” The ice cube had melted

away by the time she opened her mouth to speak again. “What are you here for? Pleasure? Or are

you here for the spice food and women?” She couldn’t help but chuckle at her silly joke;

impatiently giving her cell phone a glance. Alistaire hadn’t called her yet, and it was making

her upset.

Michael chuckled, as he nodded a thanks to the bar tender that set his

‘usual’ drink down on the bar in front of him. “I’m in it for a little bit of everything,

chica.” Smiling easily he took a drink from the cold glass. Thumbing over his shoulder he directed

to his mates tinkering with their equipment. “With the band… Speaking of which…” Michael gave a

sheepish grin as Katt, the only female on board, gave him a disapproving stare. He was supposed to

be getting ready for the beginning set, not chatting it up at the bar. Despite the fact he was nearly

always chatting it up at the bar during break, Katt liked to keep them all in line.

“Guess I’m being summoned…” He quickly downed the last of his drink

before standing and stretching. “My work is never done. I’m Michael by the way…” He gave an

dramatic bow before striding back to the make-shift stage of the club. It wasn’t more than a foot

off the ground, but the Michael never did care where he was singing as long as he could be

heard.

“As they say – ‘girls just want to have fuuuun!'”

“Sure thing, Allie, whatever you say!” Laughing at her best friends,

Rishta took a look around the club. Allison (aka Allie – the singer-wannabe) had dragged them all to

this new club, where her ‘most favorite bestest band of all time’ was playing – Forsaken.

She had this huge obsession with the lead, a man by the name of Michael. Glancing up at the

‘stage,’ Rishta had to admit that he had a certain charm to his manner – much like Mr.

Marzari. However, he was more ‘cute’ then ‘drop dead gorgeous.’ At least, in

her humble opinion. Leaning against the wall, Rishta continued chatting with her friends, trying to

avoid being stared at. Tonight, she had gone in dark blue jeans, and a light blue sparkling top –

which had, in dark blue letterings, her name written in Arabic. It really looked cool (in her “humble

opinion”) and had been made for her when she went to Saudi Arabia with her class last year. Good

thing it still fit. With this, she wore boots, and simple silver jewelry, once again keeping her hair

down. She didn’t look overdone – just merely pleasant. Which, indeed was her goal.

“Heys, Allie, which one is him again?”

“Which was who?”

“You know… Miiiicchhaeeel…”

“Oh!” Allie’s face brightened happily, as she pointed forward, to the

blonde man up front, singing his heart out. She was a small girl, about six inches shorter then

Rishta, with curly dark hair and dark eyes – an Italian princess. Following the motif of her friends,

she had worn dark blue jeans, and a shirt with her name written in Arabic on it. However, her’s

was red – to match her complexion. Everyone wore a different color shirt. Even though Rishta had

objected that this made them look like ‘groupies’.

“Who? Him?” Rishta gently teased, pointing to a man who danced alone, right

in front of the stage. He turned when Rishta pointed, smirking slightly. He wasn’t all that bad

looking… just… sleazy. Laughing, Rishta turned to a disgusted Allie.

“Noooo! The hot one! Behind him!”

“We know, we know… just joking.”

“You had better be! Now come on!” Grabbing Rishta’s hand,

and screaming to the others ‘be right back,’ Allie proceeded to half-drag, half-lead Rishta

to the front of the dance floor, so they were about five feet from the stage. Dancing, she encouraged

the self-conscious Rish to do the same, ecstatic that she was so close to THE MICHAEL. The God of

her Paganism. Oh Allie… you’re such a nutcase… Smiling and laughing, Rishta began

dancing along to the music, just for Allie’s sake. After all, when was the next time that she

would see Forsaken?

Locked in this cage
Watching the wind take flight
A war of fallen to engage
The angel’s battle I have to fight

I never wanted to be your angel
I never want to believe again
To take the soul of one you love
To take their life with your own hand

Don’t speak to me of right and wrong
When you don’t see all the grey
I’ve turned my back on the angel’s song
I’ve got nothing left to save

Michael was once again lost in the words of the song, this one tugging a

string inside him. But then, all his songs tugged at something he could never quite explain. His

eyes remained closed as he sang, no outside distractions penetrating his trance.

The dark one comes to seek my soul

With eyes that see in to infinity

Feathers of my fate will fall

Caught by the ties of destiny

The world is frozen in this feeling

With dreams I’ve never told

Hearts of desperate souls are screaming

Lonesome cries of empty souls

A strange sense filled Michael, almost like a recognition running through his

mind. He opened his eyes for them to meet with a girl on the dance floor. Rich brown eyes framed

with a halo of ebony hair. She was beautiful… an angel princess. His heart stopped in his chest,

and for a moment it was as if he only sang to her.

Don’t speak to me of right and wrong

When you don’t see all the grey

I’ve turned my back on the angel’s song

I’ve got nothing left to save

As the song finished, many in the crowd cheered and applauded. Michael

immediately started to make a beeline for the girl, before Katt snagged the back of his shirt and

tugged him back.

“Whoa there, rocker boy, you gonna take off that guitar or do you plan to lug it

around? The cord only runs so far y’know.” Katt smirked at his utterly confused face before he

finally looked down to find himself still holding his guitar.

Michael gave a sheepish look before pulling the strap over his head and

handing it to Katt. “Here, I’ve just got to meet someone.”

He jumped off the short stage before she could do much more than yell at his

back. “Women are going to be the death of you Michael Traugott!!”

Pausing in her dancing, Rishta turned and looked at Michael for a long

moment. Her face must have shown some form of shock, because Allie then proceeded to tug on

her sleeve. It’s almost like he’s singing to me… just to me… he seems so

familiar…

“Rish? Oh Riiiish? What’s up…?” Allie then turned to see who she was

staring at. Blinking for an instant, she gave a knowing grin and smiled at Rish, then continued

dancing.

“What?”

“I see.”

“See what?”

Twirling, she laughed at Rishta for a moment. “You’ve caught

Michael-god-itis!”

“What?!”

Rishta stood there, gaping at her friend, before she was bumped and forced to

start dancing again, before the song ended. Pushing her hair back with one hand, she looked at

Allie seriously, trying not to grin at her “I knew it!” smile. “You heard me…” Allie stopped short

then, as the song ended. Cheering loudly, and accompanied by Rishta’s polite applause, she

called out to her favorite singer. “MICHAEL! WE LOVE YOU!!!!!”

Love…? Rishta then stepped out of the dance floor, and waited for Allie

by the bar. Ordering a water, she took a small sip. Michael had disappeared from the stage. Wait –

there he was again. No, wait.. he jumped off. Raising an eyebrow, she had to stifle a snicker. Allie

had seen him and was going straight for him. Poor Michael… As soon as Michael had

jumped from the stage, Allison saw him and headed right to him, dodging girls and elbowing guys

out of the way. Finally, she arrived before HIM, and he looked a bit lost.

“Hihi Michael! I’m Allison, and I’m the BIGGEST fan of

yours! Me and my friend just LOVE your song! I think she disappeared to get a water, but

I’m certain she loves you too! You’re so awesome!!!”

It was dark and the thick ember of smoke hung in the air and permeated

through the thinly woven material of his coat. Oh, the sweet smell of death was at hand!

Christopher ambled along the roughly sought together roadway into the crime infested back streets

of underground London that same night only hours after Trevor’s and his egoistical battle of

brawns and the same ever present half-assed grin of arrogant confidence hung brightly on his lips

from ear to ear. The streets were busy with commerce despite the very late hour, with people

stretching down the way till they crept below the sunken horizon, and police plodded along while

taking careful eye to the nights activities. The gray skyline shrunk in dismal recognition of coming

events, and the worried wind brought the whispers of time to unheard ears of warning to those

around, but became scorned with twisted words as deaf ears turned to them and waved them but

away with a casual wave of the hand. Fools, maggots. They would all end up dead, once his job was

completed.

Up the street rose banks and banks of houses, their arched windows and

iron-worked sides with balconies formed disalluding cryptic shadows that formed the eyes and

mouths of hard-set faces with overhung brows that slated the grainy street below. They danced and

flicked and played mercilessly under the feet of those around, but seemed to receded frighteningly

as the man in brown crept and crested the hill as he made his way to the heart of the entertainment

section of town.

It was not long before all eyes fell upon Christopher, the braver boys and men

on the top of the crested hill spat and made crud insults towards his direction in both mocking and

idiotic tones. One dared to even come over to him and ask for money, but found only the hard

solace and truth of having the back of his skull introduced to the pavement and the hard bone of his

elbow split open from his wrist to his shoulder with an unforeseeable motion that took only but a brief

second. Running away, or rather, slowly trudging away with a pool of his own ichors spewing from

his wound, the man spat and disappeared over the hill-line as those who would no doubt be

considered his trust-worthy lackies following closely in pursuit behind. It was funny, in a twisted

sort of way – as the grins presence shrunk in size and he began to frown. “These people, lowly

scum, are mere maggots residing beneath the trash can that is humanity,” Chris mumbled, looking

back and forth between women, children and men as he walked. An uncontrollable breath of wild fire

danced within the pupil of his eyes, but were snuffed away with an annoyed blink as a truck

carrying a sharp wind rolled by. “Too bad, really.. deep down inside, I will truly feel sorry after

sending you all to hell.” He paused, stopping in his tracks as he looked up and shuffled a hand

lazily through his brown hair. “.. but then again; I doubt it…”

Dismal and dreary as he shrugged up his coat higher to his shoulders and

gave a nearby rock a hearty kick out from his way and pushed open the shoddy soaked door of the

club with a brief push and stepped inside – taking in what little atmosphere the place behind the

thick rock and door held. Luckily, it wasn’t as crowded as the information gather had told of,

which was indeed a good thing. Witnesses to this would need to be silenced, and the sheer thought

of that alone made the face of the occultist twist into another grin of satisfaction with an added

furrowed brow to emphasize his smug happiness. Stepping from the top step and down to the bar

floor below, Christopher gave the surrounding` area a going over to familiarize himself before he

leveled his gaze and scanned the room for his acquired target.

There was nothing but darkness in all directions. The stone slab beneath

his back was icy cold; the black candles surrounding him did little to offset the chill that was

seeping through his jacket. Trevor’s hands and feet were bound, but he hadn’t been

gagged. Bad news for whoever jumped him and brought him here. He’d fire off a charge from

his rosary and be out of this dump in time for Happy Hour. A soft whisper started to float from the

cold darkness, slow and rhythmic, like a chant. It probably was, considering where he was. Well, this

wasn’t the first time he had been used as an offering to a demon lord. Hell, it might even be

one he had taken out before. There must not be a whole lot to do in Hell. It seemed everything was

either torturing human souls, or coming topside to frickin` try and kill him.

“You were asleep for some time,” a soothing, melodic voice said. A woman

stepped out from the shadows, clad in a crimson silk robe. “I was afraid my servants had been too

rough on you.”

Trevor managed to smirk confidently. “Yeah, I had a nice little lie-down.

Shame I was sleeping alone.”

The woman laughed. Bad sign. “Oh, my…you’re just as bold as I had

heard. Your powerful soul will be a feast for my master!”

“Uh huh. I’m just too hot for words, ain’t I?” Trevor looked up at his

wrist; it was starting to chafe and bleed from rubbing against his bindings. It didn’t matter. If it

came down to it, he’d just pull out his “trump card” and bring the house down. That’d

teach `em. “So, what’re the odds you’ll just let me go, and we can grab a beer or

something? Come on, I bet your master isn’t really all that. Besides, if we go back to my place,

it’ll be good times. Go to his, and…well, I bet the decor is nightmarish. And he’ll eat your

soul.”

“Charming. But no,” the woman replied, smiling as she tugged at the belt of

her robe. “Now, you will writhe in agony, as a sacrifice to Lutania, the demon king of lust!”

Trevor blinked. Lust?!

Her robe fell from her shoulders…

…and when Trevor blinked, he was staring at the moonlight through iron bars.

His eyes darted from one end of the tiny cell to the next, searching for the presence he just knew

was hanging around. All he found, though, was a chubby rat, gnawing at the heel of his boot. “Get

lost!” he shouted, kicking the rodent across the room. “Goddammit…just my luck, that the one

sacrifice I want to attend is only a dream. What else can go wrong tonight?” No sense in stewing

around here any longer, though. Joz shoulda been here by now, but she hadn’t shown up. She

must have been delayed by something, which means he’d hafta to go Plan B. B, as in,

“Begging”. He couldn’t ask Kris, though. He’d never hear the end of the lecture she

probably had for him. There was only one other person he could call, and he hoped she was in a

good mood…

Ana frowned at the fact that Alistaire hadn’t called her yet; when she got

home, he was going to get quite the verbal lashing. He always had a tendency to keep a girl

waiting, but that was one of the many things she liked about her partner. Any bad thing was easily

outweighed by the good about the Scottish storm; few things in life were like that, anyway. After a

few more drinks and several cups of ice, the demon-hunter finally decided that maybe it was time to

mingle a little. They were going to be stuck in London for quite some time now- so why not make a

few friends while you’re at it? That thought made her chuckle to herself; the strands of blonde

hair that covered her eye hung loosely over her face and moved as she breathed. Her senses were

beginning to sharpen; when if she was a normal person- they would most likely get dull and cause

her to slur her words. She finished off her cup of ice and thought about her plans of what she was

going to do there; all of the bad feelings eventually drifting away as time passed.

That was, until “hell” just so happened to walk through the door. Out of

everyone in the group, the girl’s eyes caught contact with the man’s- everyone else was

too busy having fun and being merry, when Ana was alert and waiting. Her right hand itched…so

much just to grab Lux and Ater- and she had no idea why. Of course, it would just be silly to grab

her guns and attack the man- but as he went further into the club, the urge was rising.

“Ana…we need to get out of here.” For the first time in hours,

Lux’s voice rang through Ana’s mind, causing the girl to close her eyes and sigh. She

wasn’t in the mood for this now- who knows, the man just might be a decent fight. “We need

to leave NOW, Ana- I won’t say it again. Don’t you have something else to do instead of

pick fights? What’s going to happen when you pick a fight that you can’t win?”

I’ll die. Simple as that. She smirked again, giving the bartender a

wink and tossing him the money she owed. Ana lifted her behind from the stool and went to walk

further into the crowd, a few people pushing and shoving her frail form from side to side. Every

once in a while, someone copped a good feel- only to be reprimanded by her sharp elbow. Hand

hovering over Lux, Ana was about to do something- when her cell phone rang. Talk about interrupting

plans. Frowning, she reached down to remove the tiny phone from her pocket- who knows, it might

have been Alistaire!

“Hello!” She sounded oddly cheerful as she kept her gaze on

Christopher, one hand on the phone- and the other hovering over gun. Her eyes were piercing- and

her look meant nothing but ass-kicking business, but as she spoke in the phone- she was happy.

“Hel-…..Trevor? What are you doing?!”

Cripes, now I gotta beg for it…how embarrassing… Trevor cleared his

throat, and looked back over his shoulder. His fat friend was nowhere to be seen. Thank God for

small blessings. “Ana…listen, I need to ask a favor of you. I know it’s really

sudden…but…uh…I’m in jail.”

In jail? What on earth for? Ana asked. It sounded like she was

distracted by something, though. And there were lots of voices. Where was she, anyway?

“Would you believe, acts of terrorism against the country?” he replied,

leaning against the wall and looking out his small cell window. “How about wanton destruction of

public property? I ran into some jerkface a few hours ago who kicked my ass. Then the cops came,

and I was too tired to fight back. So now I’m in prison.”

I think I can see where this is going, Ana said.

Trevor beamed. “Smart girl. It’d be a big favor if you could come by and

get me outta here. Bail money isn’t a problem; whatever it is, I’ll pay you back. Or

don’t pay bail. Bust me out through the wall. Whatever. I don’t care. Just get me out, and

I’ll owe ya a huge favor.”

Jerkface… Ana’s eyes were still on Christopher as Trevor

continued talking, getting bumped into ever so often- but fondled allot less, after she broke the

guy’s nose and sent him crashing to the floor. One unfortunate person decided to feel up on

her as she began to start her walk to the door- with a sharp kick, the person went crashing back into

the crowd. “Sure thing, Trevor- I’ll be there in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” After a few

minutes, commotion began to ring throughout the club; apparently Ana had sent the man flying into

the wrong guy- not like she gave a damn. Now, yelling and the sound of crashing objects filled the

bar- as just about each and everybody began to break out into a fight. Ana caused a riot in that club,

and she had to miss out on kicking someone’s pathetic behind while she was at it. Oh well,

she had another less-pathetic (and kinda cute) behind to tend to- and she did so just like she had

said… In two shakes of a lamb’s tail.

Autumn was leaned back in her chair, relaxed and pleased with melodic

sounds of the band Forsaken. She adored music that had such a powerful sounds it could speak to

her soul. It was kind of stupid when she thought too much about it, but every body had some sort of

divine inspiration. Hers was just good music. It was great watching the band live, there was

something the lead singer seemed to carry more in person than over the CD. He was damn cute,

kind of like a puppy. Autumn found the guitarist more to her tastes with darker hair and more ease of

movement.

A group of what she considered fan girls had entered the club, obviously

smitten with the group. Autumn was almost glad she came alone. Now she could play the part of the

sexy mysterious lady, instead of giggling along with Jess. Sure she was no lady, but it was sure

fun to pretend. She tried not to laugh as she caught the lead singer staring at some girl in the

crowd, he was so obviously interested Autumn wouldn’t of been surprised if he fell off the

stage trying to see. The band took a break, a DJ putting on some other random bit of dance music. It

wasn’t nearly as cool as Forsaken, but had a good beat nonetheless. Someone entered the

club and for a split second she thought Trevor had managed to bust his butt out of jail and hunted

her down, but was relieved to find it someone. Well, kind of relieved. The guy was beyond creepy

and was scanning the room like he was looking for someone.

Autumn checked her watched, the guy reminded her of Trevor so much she

was starting to feel bad for letting him rot in jail like she was. Sure it wasn’t too long ago since

he messaged her, but he probably needed a good nights sleep after all the hell he pulled today.

Sigh, leave it to her to be the voice of reason. Downing the last of her drink, she dropped a tip on

the table before slipping past the fighting bodies in the crowd and out the club door.

Chris stood there for some time in the center of the room. The room was lit by

low-angled lights; their tiny bulbs shone yellow with multihued and gold against the oak wood floor;

and the indignant glass shades brimmed with infinite pastels of color. And the air was thick with

enticingly strong perfume and the scent of the bars alcohol only added to the mounded cascade of

smells that hung loosely at the base of the nose to await a taken breath. Occasionally he would

raise a hand to the horizon of his nose and wave away the intrusive odor with a fleeting and

annoyed motion on his hand. The girl was near, but reaching her was distant; the people began to

swarm as a fight broke out and it was only now with a glance about that he realized he was at the

center of the disturbance. From where he stood at the center, he could not see much but the heads

and fists of those within remote view; and so, he temporarily lost himself in the play of the battle,

instinctively bringing the back of his fist to view and quickly introduced it into the nose of some

unlucky soul that found himself unfortunately behind the occultist in brown. It did little to quiet the

brawl, but it caused a few side ways glances to be cast his way as the man struck went crashing

into a table and took three more down with him.

Chris might have stayed there forever, but giving the short period of time he

had; he had to make use of the sparseness of time granted to him and his cause. But no; he

couldn’t pull himself away from those around him before he had the greatest chance of

grabbing the nearest person akin to his position, and introducing them to their maker personally. It

was sad, that he could abandon his job with such carelessness but then again, he disliked orders.

They were boring and did nothing for his greedy hunger to show off exactly what he was – though;

what he truly was escaped him even at unknowing times. A step aside, a move forward all within

the same movement as Chris moved and ducked around an incoming punch; bringing the hard truth

of his heel to the side of ones jaw and the bone-jarring shock of his fists leaving their fatal

impression in the kidneys of another. One would bump into him and would only find themselves strewn

aside with little effort at all from him. It was sad, poor, and not very challenging to make his way

from dead middle of the area to the front door. He had even made a path for a few girls who wished

to escape as they ran from the club accompanied by a few bruised and battered men, though, it

wasn’t his intention to have done so.

With a glance over his shoulder and narrowed eyes, the hellish creature that

was Chris let a grin engulf his face as a hellfire flame slid calmly across the back of his head and

found a spilled alcohol beverage as it ignited brutally just as he ambled out the front door.

Belial was further annoyed at Alistaire’s resolution to keep on following

him. Where the Hell was I going…? Oh yes… that bar where Michael sings. Belial wondered

if he was starting to inspire other thing than fear. Not likely… but this man was simply annoying. As

they walked deeper into the nightclubs and bars area, the amount of unhumans increased.

Hopefully the mixed up demonic and inhuman auras would be enough to provide a ‘smoke

curtain’ to get rid of this Scott. “I see”, he dryly said. “That reinforces my trust in the police and

government agencies”. Belial frowned and entirely ignored the shy attempt to pay homage to him

of a group of lesser demonesses out of a bar. Others simply stayed out of his way. He was

masking his identity, but for personal reasons some of his power was still perceivable and

multifaceted… Aidan and the three demon brothers came to his mind. He looked at the human again.

Maybe… “What brings you to London, if there’s a special reason…?” Belial walked through the

crowd waiting for the right moment to confuse and lose Alistaire.

Alistaire continued to follow Belial. He wasn’t so close as he was

before, deciding to drop back a pace and keep a good meter or so distance between them. He

wondered what the man.. the demon.. whatever he was thinking. Does he find me just an

annoying gnat?, he wondered to himself idly. Heh, he probably does, he de decided

with a smirk. He let silence fall for a moment, after Belial said something about police and

government. Alistaire wasn’t really paying attention to him; his attention was focused on the

people all around them. Demons and other hellspawn were walking the night, and in vast

quantities. His fingers itched, his eyes twitched, and he had the general burning desire to just cry

havoc and let loose the dogs of war. He kept his hands in his pockets however, and shook away

the fact that he had two .45 pistols under either of his arms, tucked away in holsters hidden by his

jacket.

Then you had Belial walking ahead and to the left of him. He wasn’t

exuding what he’d thought he would pick up. It was different. Masked, and strong, but…

Ugh. Sometimes I wish this stupid demon sense was more refined. They began to bump into

a crowd, but Alistaire kept his gaze hard on Belial’s back and tried his best to memorize him in

the case he would lose him. His ears perked at a question, and he answered. “Well, no doubt you

know I’m a Hunter already. Me an’ my partner are here on dual-business, really. She

has stuff to take care of all over town, and I, well… I got word that some big things were going down

in the stuffy ol’ city of London. I decided it best we come together and stay for awhile. If

something big really is going down– and I can feel it in bones that there is– then I’ll be here

ready to tackle it head on.”

Belial looked at Alistaire. The part of him that still was Aramis had

some sympathy for the man, for when he mentioned his partner that was busy ‘taking care of

all over town’ a subtle change in Alistaire’s tone spoke of other feelings beneath the

surface. The other part of him, formerly called Angel, strongly reminded himself he was out for a

drink and some distraction. “If something big really is going down– and I can feel it in bones that

there is– then I’ll be here ready to tackle it head on”, Alistaire continued. Belial sighed. The

very last thing he wanted was to get involved… in anything that might occur. Just cross his fingers

and hope Aidan would get run over by a truck and never take hold of that blasted ring again was all

he was in disposition to make.

“Good luck then. I’d give you my blessing but it could do more evil than

good to you”, he said with a mischievous grin in a sudden change of mood. Belial gazed down the

street. The bar where Michael sings was already in view, and it seemed like a brawl was or were

taking place inside. Belial sighed again. “Some things just don’t change, I suppose”, he

muttered to himself. A glimpse of red hair caught his attention and the trace of a human soul he

remembered well. There she goes again… Autumn was leaving the bar, walking away from

the crowd.

Alistaire simply nodded with that grin on his face. Belial, still cold and

distant, was sort of… warming to him, or so he thought. Not warming in the sense of befriending,

but at least finding his presence not as annoying or distracting as before. He nodded at

Belial’s response and shrugged heavily. “Eh, any blessing would do, I’d say. Nothing

but a streak of misfortune for me, I can tell ya that.” He said, his Scottish accent a little lighter than

before. “Ever since day one, I’ve always run into something that was just a weeee bit

out of my league.” His eyes twinkled and took a sort of blank look as he reminisced for a

moment.

“But, yeah– nothing but bad luck for me and my partner. By the way, I

don’t think I’ve toll’ye me name. It’s Alistaire MacCoule. Don’t know how

you knowin’ that could harm me, so I decided to go ahead and give it t’ya.” He nodded,

satisfied with himself for only God would know the reason for and looked a bit farther ahead, trying

to get the general gist of when Belial would end his walk. All he saw was more and more clubs and

he felt more and more strange spirits and auras. He looked back and forth to groups of people and

a variety of club entrances and exits and noticed one was a bit more rowdier than the others.

People were milling out and there was a lot of commotion. “Huh, wonder what’s going on over

there.” He said, where he was talking about obvious.

“Yes. It seems like there’s a brawl in there… Too bad; I liked the interior

design of that bar”. Belial tilted his head slightly. There were a dark-arts user involved in the

commotion – he could perceive it. Was it supposed to be his jurisdiction? Like if I had one…

He was not supposed to interfere – but it was almost painful to stay out and watch. “So, your name is

Alistaire MacCoule. It’s an interesting name… if you’d be a descendant of Finn Maccool.

You don’t look like him, though”. Belial frowned as he saw Autumn disappear in a less packed

side street. “To correspond… my name is Beltrán Oliveros”. His lip curled in a sort of sarcasm. Any

name he wore was as his own as any other. “A name is something very important in some spheres.

Every soul has a distinctive name that doesn’t change”.

Alistaire raised an eyebrow and looked at the back of Belial’s head.

There was definitely something about this guy that was not human. He wouldn’t be able to

pinpoint exactly what, but all of his senses and better judgment pointed him in that direction. For

now, he could only wonder what secrets this man… this entity… possessed. “Heh, just so happens

that I really am a descendant of his. Or, rather, that’s what my family tree tells me.” He

rubbed his chin, thinking back on it and nodded after a moment. “Yeah.. a direct descendant, to be

exact.” He decided not to point out how he would know what Finn would have looked like, but filed

away this interesting little tidbit of info.

“Anyways, it’s nice to meetcha, Beltran Oliveros.” He was hoping

he’d turn around and offer him a hand shake or something akin to that. Until then, he

continued to look ahead and tried to match a lock on whatever Belial might be looking at. He caught

the red hair of a girl that was turning down a side street. Looking back to Belial, he was pretty sure

that’s where his eyes had to be on. Why else look down that direction? “Who’s the

girl?”, he risked asking.

Belial turned a little and looked at Alistaire over his shoulder. His silver eyes

shimmered strangely as if warning the man not to get too curious. “She’s someone I’ve

seen before. It’s curious how the world can be such a small place…” A strange, small smile

slid on Belial’s lips. “So, you are a descendant of Maccool. It’s nice to meet you”. He

mainly said it to distract Alistair’s attention from Autumn. Belial frowned slightly. His own

curiosity was increasing. He turned to face Alistaire. “Are you already convinced I am just someone

that’s out for a walk or do you intend to follow me all night long?” Belial arched an

eyebrow.

Alistaire grinned in response to Belial turning and giving him that strange

glare. That’s all he really could do; just smile and shrug. He didn’t want to get him too

mad, though. He had a feeling that this man mad would spell certain doom and a great variety of

things, himself included if he wsan’t careful. He nodded absently as he then proceeded to say

a few more words, mentioning that he met the girl once before and that it was nice to meet him and-

-huh? Alistaire blinked and came to a sudden stop when Belial turned to face him. He didn’t

foresee this happening anytime soon.

Alistaire thought for a moment. “Well,” he began, “like I said before– I think

you really are just some guy that was out for a walk. Not a normal guy, but for a walk

none-the-less. As for following you, well, I tollya the answer to that one, too. Yer not gona get rid of

me until something big happens, with you or with someone else, really. I’m intrigued by you, I

guess you could say.” Just then, a larger crowd came rushing out of the already-in-a-riot club.

Belial frowned, annoyed. He was about to reply when he noticed the crowd

moving as more people rushed out of the bar as if something worse than a common fight were

taking place. Belial could perceive the influence of dark majicks growing intense. “Something big,

huh…?” Belial frown went deeper as he headed to the bar, moving against the continuous flow of

people fleeing the place and the thick crowd of people chatting and waiting to get into the other bars

and restaurants in the area.

By BroodingDarkness

Before the birth of man there were the angels. The purpose of the Angelic Host was to keep the balance and guide man through it’s evolution… but many did not agree. This stand became known as The Fall and those that apposed the Host were known as the Fallen.

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