Angel Warriors - HellBound: Section 10

Lucifer waited, just long enough, for the damaging emotions to set in and take hold. The humans would enable him to defeat the angel when nothing else had succeeded. The older one had been almost too easy… The younger one, though, he would be more difficult. Not impossible, just… difficult. He judged that Mihdael would be at his lowest point of morale since his arrival in Satan’s dark domain; and now, with the help of those selfsame humans the angel had vowed to serve and protect, he would finish off what little was left of the warrior’s self-confidence… and resistance. With both the human and the Devine against him, Mihdael would have no one to turn to, no other recourse other than Hell, and Lucifer himself…

He reappeared in the large, open chamber; a place provided not for the angel’s benefit, but as a further inducement to the humans. The walls and ceiling glowed with a soft, bluish light, further enhanced by the angel’s golden Light – which, Lucifer was pleased to note, was not as bright as before. The human judge, named Stone, stayed will away from the angel and his younger companion, again noted with distinct satisfaction. He glanced at the younger human, who still shunned him; he would have this mortal, too—eventually. For having pulled them away from the angel’s influence, pulling them from Christ would not be all that difficult.

Lucifer could sense the strong, ingrained belief that this mortal held for the warrior; the admiration for the angel’s strength of character and innate power. He would destroy that first, and the rest would follow; he would see all those ‘admirable’ traits crumble before him, leaving him with nothing to admire… or respect.

Both glanced up at his unannounced appearance, yet made no move toward him. He approached, the black metallic cloak swirling about his impressive frame. Mihdael, though still seated, straightened with the barest hint of challenge, which all too quickly was restrained. He wanted the warrior to lash out at him, in anger, in hatred; not to face him with that cool gaze filled with sympathy and regret. Not to react in a detached, methodical defense, but with the impetuous and blood-heat of rage and unrestrained fury. And he would, in time…

As he hadn’t achieved the required reaction with the angel, he managed it to a certain extent with the mortal. His stormy blue eyes narrowed with anger, and he advanced without hesitation and with clear purpose. “No one called you here; and no one wants you here.”

Lucifer never ceased to be amazed at human impertinence. he bowed, condescendingly, “You need not call for me to be here; am I not, after all, the Prince of Hell? Unlike His angels, I appear without supplication, without begging. I appear to offer you all you ever wanted, all you could ever imagine—” Anger, again, a hot, tangible force from this mortal’s innermost being. And Lucifer opened himself to that anger, and welcomed it into his own being. Anger for the pain he had caused the young man’s older companion; he could somehow discern that the Earthly judge could not—or would not. “Can you truly say there is nothing you wish in all the Universe? Nothing that you would have me do for you?”

“Yeah, you can fuck off, you asshole.”

Lucifer’s full, sensuous lips curved in cold, hard smile. He reached out, his large, powerful hand clamping down on the curve of neck and shoulder. McConnell shrank back, as the talons dug in, then looked up at him, fear edging out the anger. “Such elegant phrasing. And are you offering yourself for such service? If so, then I accept.”

The warrior was before him then, the fire of battle in his eyes once more. “Leave him be, Lucifer.”

Lucifer’s chilling smile broadened. “But then, why should I settle for Earth, when I can have Heaven?” His yellow, feral eyes locked with the angel’s as he shoved McConnell aside, sending him half-way across the chamber. He caught the movement of the other mortal, as he came into the chamber to aid his friend, and immediately dismissed him from thought. He caught the warrior’s upper arm, forcing him to retreat until his back was against the wall. “Yes, I most definitely have you…”

Fury surged through McConnell, sending him in a headlong charge toward the unEarthly creature responsible. But strong arms halted him, held him back when he wanted nothing more than to wipe that infuriating smirk off that handsome, demonic face.

“Hey, hey…just hold on. What are you doing?” Stone’s voice reached him, and he subsided a bit.

“What do you think? I’m gonna clean his clock.”

“Yeah, right… Guy’s seven feet of raw muscle, bone, and scales—you’ll really make a dent in that.”

“Well, it’s better than just standing here and taking it!”

“Not our fight, kid.”

McConnell looked at him, with a kind of stunned disbelief; then he slowly shook his head. “Yes, it is, Stoney; more than ever before. And you know it.”

“No, I don’t know. I’m not sure of anything anymore; just that we don’t belong here… And, we’re not responsible for him.”

He followed Stone’s gaze, to watch the confrontation between devil and angel. If it could be called that… No, not a confrontation, not even a stand-off. For Lucifer was definitely in control here, and that control seemed to extend over angels as well. Mihdael’s wings were still held tightly against his back, down and close – not raised and extended in preparation for battle as he was accustomed to seeing; and although he strained to pull free of Lucifer’s grip, he wasn’t actually fighting…

And Lucifer – the demon’s frighteningly beautiful wings were unfurled, closing around the angel, the blue light of the chamber reflecting off the black/blue scales in arcs of color, like rainbows captured in Darkness… Darkness that seemed vaster and deeper than Light, and completely over-powering. Those bat-like wings concealed everything, except for the faint, golden glow that refused to yield completely to Darkness. Then, the right wing moved aside slightly, so they could see… and watch… and know…

Mihdael was bent back over a jagged rock outcropping, the sharp edges cutting painfully into wings; Lucifer’s well-muscled, scaled forearm was across the warrior’s right shoulder and neck. The talons hooked deep into his left shoulder, but not touching the scarred imprint left by the branding iron. He was held down, enveloped by an almost tangible Darkness.

And McConnell watched, as he knew Stone did also, in a sort of frozen, detached fascination. The thought of stopping Lucifer flashed briefly across his mind, when another question followed immediately after it. Mihdael held more power than all of Earth’s military might combined… Why didn’t he do something? Was Lucifer stronger? Was Evil really more powerful than Good? If Mihdael had the strength, and the power, to defeat Lucifer, why didn’t he? Why was he letting any of this happen?

Lucifer’s free hand brushed lightly over the brand, then the razor-edged talon pierced deeply, tracing over the burnt-in symbol. Bright, scarlet-red blood welled from the intersecting cuts, flowing over the bruised skin around it, streaming over his shoulder and chest. And if there was any resistance from Mihdael, McConnell couldn’t see it; only the angel’s large hands clenched tightly in the thick folds of Lucifer’s cloak gave any indication of what he was feeling. His face was turned away from them, and whether he was enduring it or accepting it, McConnell didn’t know. He winced, and flinched back as Lucifer gripped the bleeding shoulder, his talons drawing more blood, staining the white feathers beneath. His head lowered over the wound, and McConnell saw Mihdael recoil from the touch of the parted lips, then brace rigidly in Lucifer’s grip. Then, for the briefest of moments, the warrior’s hand released its death-grip on the glittering fabric; he raised his hand toward Lucifer’s head, as if to push him away, then halted, before the motion was completed. Halted, and hesitated, his hand clenching into a fist that never struck, but only fell ineffectively to his side. And Lucifer laughed then, a deep, unpleasant, rumbling sound; his blood-smeared lips moved over Mihdael’s shoulder, neck, and jaw. And just before McConnell looked away, suddenly sickened and cold, the blue/black wing raised once more, concealing all from sight.

***

“Can you possibly imagine,” Lucifer whispered, his words icy cold against Mihdael’s neck, “what they think I am doing to you?” There was no answer, not that he expected one. How he ached to take this warrior now, but not yet – not when he had yet to accomplish his goal. Left untouched, he knew Mihdael would have to endure whatever the two mortals thought had been done to him. He well knew it was more difficult to defend innocence than to defend guilt, for guilt was more easily accepted and rationalized by humans, while innocence was always in doubt. God had indeed created quite a race of beings…

“I will look into their thoughts,” he continued, reluctant to release his embrace, “and take their imaginings and make them fact. For whatever I do to you, will first be seen in their minds…”

***

The paralysis that had held them immobile vanished, and McConnell advanced a few steps, then stopped. The huge wings were lowering, and Lucifer’s tall frame straightened. He gazed down at the angel’s supine form, his voice scornful, “You will now kneel to me.”

Again, there was no voiced protest, only a listless compliance as Mihdael knelt, eyes on the ground.

Lucifer swung away from him, and gave the two humans a look of overpowering triumph, his glittering eyes settling on McConnell. “This,” he said, in a biting, mocking tone, pointing at the kneeling warrior, “is the angel you so admire and respect? Can you not now see that he is nothing against my superior might; that I can do with him as I will, and he will do nothing.”

Lucifer watched smugly as McConnell’s angry words were directed not at himself, but at the angel.

“Fight him, dammit! Why won’t you fight him? You’re not afraid of him–I know that. You’re supposed to fight Evil, not cower before it—before him!” He stood looking down at the golden head bowed submissively. A part of him wanted to lend a comforting touch and word; but another, larger, part of him felt angry and betrayed. This was the warrior given, and accepting, the duty of defending Mankind and Earth? An angel who refused to back up his words and vows with action? Who refused to do anything when confronted with Evil incarnate? “You came back for your sword, for a shield; and now you’re not even using them. Why won’t you fight? And if you won’t, why should we?”

Mihdael was silent for a moment, then raised his head, and looked up at him with eyes that sent a shiver through his soul. “And do you also… now turn away from me, Alan?” He asked quietly, without accusation or anger; without, it seemed, any feeling at all.

“Perhaps he is finally seeing you for the useless puppet that you are,” Lucifer broke in, before McConnell could respond. He reached down, grabbed a handful of hair, and jerked Mihdael’s head back, forcing the angel to look at him. “I can prove to him how truly powerless, and cowardly, you are when before me, the Prince of Darkness, of Evil. And I can prove it to you as well…” His gaze lowered to the still bleeding, inverted cross. “You know all I have done, all the Evil I have perpetrated, all the deeds that damn and destroy… And, yet, despite all of that, our Father - your God - wants me back…” At Mihdael’s silence, he repeated the question, twisting his hand tighter. “Does He not?!”

“I… do not know…”

“You yourself said He would forgive me; you yourself offered to deliver me to Him. Can you then not say that He wants me back? That He does, in fact, wish for my return?”

“He would accept you back, if you asked His forgiveness.”

His slitted pupils contracted, cold and closed, his features filled with contempt. “I have broken--shattered to bits-–every Angelic Commandment ever given us. I have ground under my heel the mortal commandments as well. And He wants me back.”

It wasn’t a question this time, but Mihdael answered. “Yes.”

“And you, angel? Why are you here? To take my place if I had agreed to return to Him?”

“No!” And that small, single word was as inadequate a protest for Mihdael as it had been for Lucifer.

“You answer too quickly, and with fear. What Commandment did you break? What sin did you commit? You know, as well as He. He has punished you dearly for those transgressions – is punishing you still. He has said He has forgiven you… but has He? Has He truly forgiven you? Can He look upon you with love, knowing you condemned Him and His angels? Can He?”

“Yes.”

Lucifer shrugged, giving no credence to the angel’s unwavering faith. “As you say, and as you wish to believe. Your offenses were minor next to mine. Yet, He offers me Heaven, and you…” He paused briefly, considering. Words could be the most fearsome weapons; whether truth or lie, words were as daggers, knives, and swords. Words could kill like the sharpest blade; not the body, but the spirit… “and you,” he continued in an almost seamless transition of thought, “He has given the fires of Hell.”

“That can not be, Lucifer, for I am not damned. My soul is still His; accepted by Him and guarded by Him. My stay here is not eternal, but temporary; and you have yet to say anything to prove otherwise, or give weight to your words.”

Lucifer chose carefully among his arsenal, finding just the knife he wished – sharp, hurtful, and cruel. “Of all the angels in God’s Heaven, why did He give you unto Satan and myself? By His Own words, He could have chosen any angel to fit Satan’s spoken requirements. But He sent you.

“He created you as Warrior – as you are wont to remind others, as well as yourself, every so often. He gave you certain abilities, power, and strength – to be used in defense, in warfare. He created your nature to be unyielding and combative. All these negative, aggressive traits He placed in an angel’s gentle essence; and then commanded you to fight always for Him, for Heaven, for…Man.” He spat the word out with obvious distaste.

“He bound you to Him as His faithful servant and warrior. Then, He takes that from you--as He took your pride and the companionship of your fellow angels. For where is your armor, Mihdael; where is your sword?”

“I foolishly gave it up, of my own free will. They were not taken from me.”

A sword now, to slash and cut, rending the spirit, and severing the soul from God’s grasp. “Are you so sure, so certain of it? That you even have free will? You were born from Him, Mihdael; created from his mind to be what you are. He knows your thoughts, your actions, your very being. He knows them before you know them yourself. Would He not then know also how you would react in any given situation? Knew you would renounce your office of Warrior; knew you would divest yourself of His armament? Knew, “ he finished almost gently; the coup de gras would be soon, and more merciful than cruel, “you would then be vulnerable to us?”

He disentangled his hand from Mihdael’s hair, touched his face in a light caress. “That is the God and Father you love and serve? He sent you to us. He commanded you to obey us, and in doing so, in effect commanding you to break your Commandments, your vows, while insisting that you remain true to Him. You cannot succeed, Mihdael. Can you not see that, my once friend and companion? What He is doing to you if far worse, and far crueler, than anything I could devise. You cannot do as He wills, and still remain pure and virtuous – as He demands of all His angels. And He well knows that, as He knows all things.”

He could see Mihdael considering the awful implications of what he had said; could see the stark, cold terror that lanced to the center of his being. He could stop now, he knew; and in so doing, at least spare the warrior from hearing from his enemy his unavoidable fate. He could withdraw the sword, could show him the mercy that was second nature to an Angel of Light—yet, he was no longer that. Had chosen not to be. Or had God, in His Infinite Wisdom, chosen for him the instant of his creation?

“For He will look upon you,” Lucifer continued, in a dark, quiet voice; a voice that spoke from the deepest depths of spiritual torment, “and ask of you: ‘Did you obey me?’ Will ask it, even when He knows the answer.

“And you will answer either yes or no.” Not a quick, final stroke; for the Prince of Darkness did not have the quality of mercy within him. “And either answer will condemn you.

“For if you answer yes, then you are responsible for the completion of Satan’s ultimate plan to destroy Mankind and God; and you will have broken the vows given to them.

“Yet, if you answer no, then your disobedience will be considered a sin unto Him, breaking your vow of obedience to God.

“Tell me, Angel Mihdael – and I fear you will not be using that title much longer -- when this is finished and done with, how will you escape the eternal fires of Hell?”

CONTINUED IN SECTION 11: "Angel Warriors - Hellbound: Sec 11 & 12"