Angel Warriors - HellBound: Section 5

Angel Warriors - Book 2: HellBound
By: Melinda Reynolds
CONTINUED – Part 5

***
Lucifer leaned back in the roaring, red-hot flames that surged and billowed from the depths of Hell. Enclosed in the confines of glossy black obsidian, the HellFire pool bubbled and roiled; pale green wraiths of damned souls flailed in agony on its volcanic surface, providing fuel and substance. Wings spread wide, the Fallen Angel reclined in almost decadent pleasure, absorbing the terror and pain from the eternal souls; thick rivulets of lava flowed over him, over the metallic black cloak…and neither burned.

Lucifer gained sustenance from HellFire, the source of his strength and power. And he needed both now. Having just left the cool (to him) chamber that held the Angel prisoner, he immediately appeared in his own palace in Hell. He quickly sought out the regenerating pool of HellFire, needing to reaffirm his status as Prince of Hell. He had been sent to coerce the Warrior to be more receptive to Satan’s demands, but one look had nearly disarmed him.

The MorningStar had not seen Mihdael since the Casting Out; and the unFallen Angel was still beautiful, still perfect, and still…unreachable. Long-dead memories came back with whirlwind force, and a weakness came over him. He nearly wavered in his allegiance to Satan, had come perilously close to accepting the Angel’s offer of forgiveness. For the bond remained; the bond that bound all Angels together as brothers.

Before, Lucifer had been content with their friendship, content with the warmth of love and good-will; but now – now he could no longer love anyone or anything. And Mihdael had brought the memory of that excised emotion back with such force that it had been an effort not to do as he had asked, when there should have been no effort at all. The Angel’s offer of unconditional forgiveness and acceptance had tempted him to accept, but Evil held him too tightly in its merciless grip, a grip that would loosen, but never relinquish its hold.

Love. Such a deceptive emotion, one that forced even the strongest to bend to its demands. An emotion that enslaved and ruled, all the while draining its victims of will, weakening them until none could resist or break free of its clutches. That held the susceptible in thrall with pleasure and gratification, which resulted in pain and distress if the victim should escape. Was love that different from hate?

The Casting Out had taken away the warmth of love, love that had been pure and chaste, love that had been shared by friend and brother; unquestioning and undemanding, love that gave freely and never took. The warmth of that love had become the heat of lust – lust for power, for wealth, for vengeance and revenge. They were the same, yet different--Angel and Demon. They were opposite sides of the same coin: An Angel’s spiritual love conflicting with a Demon’s physical desire.

And he knew Mihdael would never allow it, would never willingly submit.

He gripped the coiled whip tightly, well aware of the pain and anguish it could inflict – even on an Angel, for it had been created for that purpose. It had flayed the souls of the damned for untold centuries. The Warrior had felt the lashes’ stings, his flesh had been cut and scourged as any human’s could be. He should have continued the flogging until the Warrior begged him to stop; but he had stopped of his own accord, unable to inflict any further pain. He tried to rationalize the reluctance he had felt, reasoning that if an Angel could be forced to feel such pain, then it was a disquieting discovery to find they really weren’t that different… That he wasn’t that different.

But the Warrior would have to submit; be forced to, if necessary. No one denied Satan for long. And he, he would have to find another way, another method to accomplish what pain couldn’t.

For Lucifer well knew that those who denied Satan lived to regret it - forever.

***
Satan pressed close against the angel, leaned her head on his shoulder, his golden hair soft beneath her cheek. Although she was slightly taller, she knew that when lying down, height wouldn’t matter. Usually, just the sight of her was enough to melt the resistance of any mortal male; but then, she wasn’t dealing with a mortal. An Angel would be much more difficult to seduce; difficult, but not impossible. They themselves were proof of an Angel’s potential for corruption.

The warrior didn’t pull away from her embrace, but neither was he compliant or submissive. Pressed close to him, she took full measure of him, knew he would be most satisfying – if he could be induced to do so.

And therein lay the problem… For her usual response to disobedience was torture, then death if the victim still remained obstinate to her wishes. In this case, those ploys would not achieve her goal. As she had never tried (had never needed to) any other method, she was stymied. Perhaps she should allow Lucifer more leeway in the punishments—

“Why did you want the Angel Salathiel?”

She almost jumped at the unexpected interruption of her thoughts, and she looked into his eyes, seeing the same quiet serenity that had so infuriated Lucifer. “Two reasons. Because he betrayed me when he had sworn his allegiance to me alone. He chose, at the most damaging and fateful moment of our attack, to forsake me and remain true to God. The weakling crawled back to Him, begging forgiveness.”

“And the second reason?”

She took a few moments to answer, her voice taking on a mocking, yet sad, tone. “He…loved me…”

The momentary sadness was magnified in his gentle gaze. “We all loved you, at one time.”

“And you can not love me now?”

“Not in the way you want, no.”

His Light was the warmth of the soul, of life; it radiated through her, and the Darkness of her soul shivered. She loosened her embrace, and stepped back, hands resting on his broad shoulders. “Did you know that Salathiel was one the Angels sent to Earth after the Fall of Man?”

“Yes.”

She noted, with satisfaction and some amusement, that the tension eased in his taut muscles as she relaxed her embrace. “And did you know that he was one of the Sons of God who consorted with the Daughters of Man? That he was so enamored of his mortal form, and the pleasures derived from it, that he remained on Earth up until the Flood?”

“I know he was ordered to return to God’s Realm and service just before the Second Judgment.”

“And his mate and offspring died in the Flood that covered the Earth, and he was forbidden to ever to return in his mortal form. Then he was given the Guardianship of the planet he could no longer walk upon in the guise of Man.

“Salathiel, Earth’s Guardian, had known a mortal woman. An angel that had once loved me in a spiritual manner, could have easily loved me in the physical manner as well. I doubt that he would have long resisted me, as you insist upon doing…”

“Then…that is why He chose me; to spare Salathiel, to save him from your temptations. I had thought—” He broke off, unwilling to voice the turmoil of his thoughts and emotions. Had God chosen him because He had trusted in the strength of his faith and loyalty? Or was it simply a substitution of one questionable Angel with another? Had the Guardianship of Earth been an act of trust, or just a means to an end? He was still atoning for his past transgression, his condemnation of God and Heaven. Would an Angel who had so fervently and vehemently damned God and His Angels be such a great loss to Heaven? Was this, then, the ultimate test of his loyalty and faith? The last test?

“What troubles you?”

“It is…nothing…”

“Enough that it takes your attention away from me. Is it something I have said, or done?”

“No. I… am not as highly favored by God as you might believe. I have… spoken out of turn, with anger and condemnation; I am atoning for that transgression, and this could be… an extension of that atonement…”

Her eyes widened with his revelation. “You stood up to Him? You have a backbone after all? Oh, that He has given unto me such an Angel…” His potential possibilities whirled in her mind, until another, devious thought worked its way through. “An extension of your atonement?” Her attitude changed abruptly from delight to disquiet, then disdain.

“He would dare use me as an instrument of His punishment?” Affronted rage burned in her narrowed eyes, hands clenching tightly into fists. “First He would deceive me, now he manipulates me?! Who does He think He is, that He would presume to—to—” She whirled away from him, fury in every line of her being, voice raising to the shriek of a banshee.

The very substance of Hell cringed at her fury, and her mortal form wavered, shimmered and faded. Enormous scarlet wings swept her upward, through the rock and flames; her unHoly fury lashed out at anything in her path. Scorching energy arcs roiled to the boundaries of Hell, then cascaded back in towers of violent, hate-infused waves that engulfed and seared everything in its path.

Somewhat disconcerted by her unexpected and oftimes violent mood swings, Mihdael once again found the confines of the chamber closing in on him.

***

Satan’s fury swept throughout Hell, heard and felt by all. Lucifer, alerted to her tirade by his personal imps, left his sanctuary. Accustomed to her rages, he knew she would finally alight on the highest point overlooking Hell. He waited until her anger spent itself in screaming curses that shook the foundations, and sent Hell’s denizens in any direction away from her.

Her scarlet wings finally brought her within view, and she landed angrily next to him.

He, in turn, smirked at her. “What are you carrying on about now?”

She paced, muttering the foulest curses imaginable in six different languages, her fists clenched as she glared alternately at Lucifer, then upward – at Heaven. “He… He has the nerve to use me such!! God He may be, but no one uses me for his own purposes!”

“And how has God used you? Other than the usual way, that is.”

Satan related a quick account of Mihdael’s statements, finishing with loathing and contempt. “And now I am to be the instrument of an Angel’s punishment in His stead, do His job for Him! I think not!!”

“Yet, that is what we are best at, is it not? To torment and punish, it is our niche in life.”

“On my own terms, MorningStar; not His!” Her manner cooled, but her brow furrowed with anger. “I do not do His Will!”

“What did this perfectly pleasing Warrior do to earn such favors from you?”

She waved the question away impatiently. “I know not, nor do I care. I do my own will, my own design, not His!”

Ignoring her and letting her rave on, Lucifer carried on his own conversation. “Ahhhh, so not only has Mihdael fallen out of Michael’s good graces, he is now on shaky ground with God as well?

“He must have stumbled several times to be sent here – maybe I should give him a little push to complete the Fall…”

The MorningStar smiled with cold assessment. “It must be killing him, not to have the approval of his Almighty Creator. Michael’s distrust was bad enough, but this… This could well work to our advantage.”

Satan’s narrowed eyes burned with cold fury as she sent Lucifer a sharp look over her shoulder. “ ‘Our’ advantage? You presume too much. He is not here for your amusement; I suggest you keep your distance.”

“Surely you don’t see me as any competition? Unless, of course, you’ve lost confidence in your—” he snickered, voice and manner sarcastic, “feminine wiles… From, I assume, disuse.”

“Careful, MorningStar, or you will be male in name only.”

“Hah! Around you I already am – you’re man enough for both of us!”

She moved too fast for him to avoid it, and her nails tore across his face, leaving parallel lines of blood.

Lucifer only laughed, catching her wrist on the return arc. “I daresay I’ll have him before you can get past ‘Hey, there, big boy…’”

She tore free of his grip, her gaze and tone icy. “Then perhaps you can learn a few things from him.”

“Like what!?!”

“Like how to please a woman comes to mind.” Satan swept regally past him, wings unfurling preparatory to flight. She patted him briefly. “Compared to the Warrior, you come up – shall we say – short.”


*** *** ***

CONTINUED IN PART 6: "Angel Warriors - HellBound: Section 6"