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Deus Ex Inferni I: In The Beginning

On the first of July 2013, the dead began to walk. After the initial panic of a "Zombie Apocalypse", the world's militaries mobilized and all but eliminated the threat. Quarantined areas were deemed clear of any sort of infection or chemical weapon and people returned to their homes. The cause for the outbreak (a favoured term by the media) had been determined by scientists to be a degenerate gene in certain individuals, which caused near total cellular death when certain conditions were met. Somehow this gene was transferred to other normally healthy people via bites or other forms of contact. The gene would then aggressively attack the victims DNA and replicate itself, inducing the same conditions as the initial carriers.

Once the gene had been isolated, it was a simple matter of screening people for this gene, and having them undergo fairly simple gene therapy to remove the defective part of their DNA. This seemed to work, until six months later during a very harsh and cold January, half of the population seemed to die, only to come back as a result of this defective gene. This time, the outbreak was not controlled, and the so-called "Zombie Apocalypse" was in full swing, and civilization, as we knew it, began to crumble. But before all this had happened, before even the first outbreak, the Vatican had released a statement. The pope had been broadcast out across the world, and had delivered a very simple statement.

"The Fourth seal is broken. The second age of man is ending. May god have mercy on our souls."

And that was it. Nothing else was heard from the Vatican since the statement. When the outbreaks occurred, nobody remembered this statement. Nobody had seemed to notice the winters getting colder, or the summers getting hotter. The only thing people were concerned with was survival. It was now six years after the second outbreak.

Three quarters of the Earth's human population were now little more than shambling corpses, leaving over one billion people trying to survive against the other five billion. The start of this particular story takes place in January, on the sixth anniversary of the second and most fatal outbreak, and how the events that take place here will eventually plunge the world into a cataclysmic event, from which there can be no hope of survival...

The air was cold, but dry. Snow and frost covered the trees and bracken in Dartmoor Forest, England. The brown ferns snapped and crackled under heavy boots, red blood staining the crisp whiteness. A man was running, clutching his arm, blood oozing between his fingers and splattering on the ground, melting small craters in the snow. The man fell stumbled on the uneven ground and crashed into a snowdrift. He pulled himself out, the sound of moaning and hissing carrying to his ears on the cold breeze. He set off again, sliding down a bank and into a freezing stream with ice hanging thickly on both banks. With difficulty, he scrambled up the opposite bank and headed up hill towards a Tor, a granite monolith jutting out from the hills top. The snow was deep and made progress slow, the trail of blood shone stark crimson against the pure white of the snow. The sun shone brightly as the man reached the tor.

He began slowly climbing the slippery grey slope, slipping occasionally, tearing the battered snow trousers he wore. Short of breath, face pink from the cold, the man looked out at the stunning Devonshire countryside. Everything was white. Untouched and pure. This part of the moor held no trees, so the only things to contrast with the whiteness of the snow were the bodies of the dead. They came shambling from the undergrowth, following the scent of fresh, living blood. There were more of them now, at least thirty. Moving stiffly as freezing temperatures solidified meat to bones. It didn't seem to stop them though.

They still walked. The man looked around, noticing a single pillar of granite a short distance away. He smiled slightly. He knew where he was now. The pillar of granite was known has the Beardown Man, which meant the tor he was sat upon was Devil's Tor. What a place to die. Six years ago, the surface of the tor was covered in the short tough moorland grass that made the place so green. Now it was bare stone. The granite was covered in a thin sheet of ice, giving it an oddly blue sheen. The man sat down and sighed, his breath forming a thick cloud about his head for a few moments.

"Not a bad day to die on..." he muttered, clutching his arm, blood dripping onto the ice next to him. The first truly clear day after a weeklong blizzard had seemed like the perfect day to go searching for supplies. Of course, the dead had been attracted by the warmth of the sun (somehow, no one really new how), and had emerged in great numbers. The problem about living by yourself and avoiding other humans, was that there would be nobody to come to his rescue. Seeing your entire family consumed by the living dead right before your eyes will do that to you, especially when the soldiers that were supposed to be evacuating you and your loved ones do nothing except drive away. The man screwed up his eyes and tried to shut the memory out. He had shunned all contact with other people after that.

Wandering the deserted English countryside in a daze, he had come across an abandoned village, and had taken up lodging in the church. Its sturdy walls and thick doors were perfect for keeping unwanted visitors out. He had discovered a number of religious texts stored within the church and spent his first winter here, reading, trying to find a meaning with what had happened. He had grown increasingly enraged at the Christian texts, he became obsessed with finding a hidden meaning to it all, surely if there was a God, and he was kind and benevolent like the texts said, there was a reason his family had been taken? Surely there was some reason to it all?

For that entire winter he went mad, looking for reasons within reasons, applying logic to the illogical. By the end of the winter he had gone through the entire library of religious texts stored in the church, from holy books like the Bible, to books on theology and theories about religion. He had finally come to the conclusion that if God existed, it was his fault that all this had happened. He had begun ranting at the alter in the church, smashing apart any Christian iconography he could reach. But during his maddened rampage around the church, he had slipped on the wet carpet that lay in tatters on the floor and had knocked himself unconscious.

He had woken up several hours later feeling dazed and weak, not quite remembering why he was lying on the floor. Looking up at the walls around him he saw that he had written the name "Alastor" everywhere in greasy old paint. Part of his mind wondered where he had found paint, but he silenced that thought. He knew the name was from Greek Mythology. It meant "Avenger". Suddenly, everything he had done during is psychotic episode came rushing back with incredible clarity. He had vowed to take revenge on God. The more rational and logical part of him knew straight away that this was stupid; that there was no way anyone could possibly take revenge on God. He probably didn't even exist anyway. The more human part, filled with emotions, clung to this concept like a drowning man clinging to driftwood. What else did he have to live for? What other reason was there for him to keep on living in this shambling corpse infested world? The human instinct for survival flared up in him then. If nothing else he would continue living so he could, one day, kill God.

Alastor opened his eyes. The shambling corpses were closer now, slipping and sliding their way up the hill. He was feeling weak, his blood forming a large pool around him. It had melted the ice on the patch of rock he was sitting on, running down the incline and off the edge of the tor. He reached down to his belt and unclipped the hatchet that hung there, setting it down beside him. He slowly reached up and unzipped his coat, slowly pulling it off, wincing as he did so. The bite on his arm was deep, but he had managed to prize open the corpses jaws before it could remove a chunk of his flesh. He pulled off his somewhat blood soaked woolly jumper and laid that next to him. Now he was just wearing a thermal base layer on his torso.

He stood slowly, picking up the hatchet as he did so. He was tall, about six four, with broad shoulders. He was strong, muscular and fit. You had to be in order to survive, and it just sort of happened whether you wanted it to or not. His hair was long, auburn in colour and tied back in a ponytail. He was also clean-shaven, an advantage in the winter, as frozen facial hair was considerably worse than no facial hair. He pulled a length of bed sheet out of his pocket and tied it tightly around his arm in an effort to stem the somewhat considerable blood loss.

"Twenty six and about to fend off a hoard of fucking zombies." He said aloud to himself. He hefted the hatchet in his right hand, his left arm being the one that was bitten. The haft was longer than average and made from hickory. The head was sharp and heavy, ideal for chopping wood, or chopping heads. The dead had reached the Beardown Man; one of them stumbled and fell against it. There was a loud crack and the pillar of stone slowly toppled forwards. Constant freeze-thaw effects had weakened the stone considerably, and it hit the ground with a heavy thud.

"I'm not going to die." Alastor stated matter of factly. His grey eyes shone with determination.

"I'm not going to die." He repeated as the dead began clambering up the tor.

"I cannot die!" he said louder, as the first one approached.

"I will not die!" He shouted, swinging the axe round in a deadly arc, smashing the brittle frozen skull apart.

"I refuse to die!" he yelled has hands grasped for him. He swung his axe round, catching another under the chin, splitting its face in half, causing it to stagger and fall.

"I REFUSE to die!" Screaming now, he hacked away at the dead approaching him, frozen flesh and bone breaking easily under the axes blade. He was surrounded now, hurling them back with all his considerable strength. He felt rotting teeth sink into his thigh, and grimaced in pain, swinging the axe down, crushing the corpses skull.

"You won't kill me! I will not die!" he shouted, grabbing another corpse by the throat, pushing it backwards, before booting it off the edge of the tor. He spun around; axe flashing as he did so. The blade bit deep into frozen flesh and stuck fast. Gritting his teeth, he spear tackled the corpse, driving its head hard into the ground. Its neck snapped with a sickening crack, but the force of the blow dislodged the axe. He grabbed it, and turned in time for another corpse to plunge its teeth into his shoulder. Blood fountained from the wound and splashed on the icy rocks.

Alastor screamed in pain, smashing the corpse down with all his might. He staggered back and dropped to one knee, panting for breath. Blood poured from his shoulder and thigh and began running down the rocks. His vision was beginning to go blurry. The corpses were drawing closer.

"I...will...not...die!" he gasped. He fell backwards, hitting his head on the rock. He tried to get to his feet but they wouldn't move anymore. All he could do was look at the clear blue sky and wait for the end. But he didn't do that.

"This is...your fault...God..." he hissed, rolling onto his front.

"Its your fault...my family...is dead!" he said, pushing himself up, causing more blood to spurt from his wounds.

"Its your fault! Everything is your fault!" He cried, heaving himself to his feet. His entire body was shaking violently. Steam rose from his body and the hot blood the leaked down his arm and leg.

"BUT I WON'T DIE!" He screamed. The corpses were struggling to reach him on the now freezing layer of blood.

"Come on you frozen rotting mother fuckers!" he snarled "Eat me if you...you...d-dare..." He slumped to his knees. Dull pain shot through them, indicating they had broken. But he could scarcely feel anything now. Blackness was creeping in around the edge of his vision.

"Dammit!" he though "Dammit dammit dammit! I don't wanna die! This is God's fault! I don't wanna die! Not like this! Not like THIS! I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"

As darkness closed in, he thought he some sort of green light, and then a figure in front of him. But it was too hard to tell.

"I'm coming for you God! I'm coming for you, you bastard!"

Slumping forwards, his head hit the ground. His vision had been reduced to a narrow tunnel, darkness rapid closing in. He thought he heard a voice. He fought back the darkness to hear it.

"What would you give not to die?" he thought he heard.

Blood gurgling in his lungs, he gasped out one final word, before slumping down, darkness consuming him utterly.

"Anything..."

All Alastor could see was darkness. He tried blinking. That didn't seem to work, so he tried waving a hand in front of his face. That didn't seem to work either. It felt like his body was somehow floating; yet restrained. He tried speaking but he couldn't seem to make any sound. He frowned. If he WAS dead, then why was he conscious and aware? If there really wasn't an afterlife, then why were all his mental faculties working? Something seemed to be happening at the corner of his vision. He tried to turn his body to see what it was, but he was still stuck in place. Whatever it was appeared to be coming closer. Suddenly, green light was rushing past him, like he had just fallen into a brightly lit tunnel.

The light shot past him, coalescing in front of him, forming a glowing pentagram. Strange symbols and patterns whirled around the outside of the glowing star. He recognised it from the books back in the church. The star was inverted, two points facing upward, one pointing down. This configuration symbolised the domination of the spiritual world by the physical, often associated with the Christian Devil.

"You seem to know a great deal about this." A voice said, seemingly emanating from the pentagram. Alastor suddenly found his ability to talk returned to him.

"I'm not dead then?" he said, his voice echoing strangely.

There was a pause, and then,

"Most people ask if they ARE dead."

"I'm not most people."

There was a noise that sounded like a chuckle, but he couldn't be sure. He had decided that the voice was female, although he wasn't sure why. It didn't seem like anyone was actually talking to him, more like the words were beamed directly into his brain.

"I noticed. Your instinct for survival is far stronger than most humans."

"Most humans...? Wait...upside down pentagram? Mysterious voice? Hmm...I guess it wasn't called Devil's Tor for nothing then."

"My my, how very astute of you."

"I'm also guessing the Beardown Man had something to do with it? A Locking mechanism perhaps?"

"Bravo! You really are different, I clearly haven't made a mistake in saving you then."

"Yes...that reminds me, where exactly am I?"

"Waking up, I suspect."

"Wha-"

Alastor jerked upright. He immediately regretted this. Pain shot through his body like electricity. He gasped and coughed, blood spattering the rocks in front of him. Wait, rocks?

He looked around. He was still on the moor, still on the tor, but there were no corpses. There was a great deal of blood. Probably his. He had been lying in the middle of what looked like a pentagram carved deeply into the rock. The lines of the pentagram were filled with blood, green fire burning over the top of it. The flames had melted away all the ice and snow, leaving the granite bare. He looked up and saw the originator of the voice. She was most definitely a demon. A very, very naked demon at that. Her skin was a sort of strange metallic green colour, and she had long black hair that hung down to her waist. She had long slender legs; her feet were perfectly proportioned, her toes ending in short black talons. She had a long prehensile tail, which looked like a snakes. It was her face that really drew his attention though. Her eyes were almond shaped, with purple irises and black slitted pupils. A long forked tongue snaked out of her mouth and licked her lips. She seemed to be...what was the word? An 'anthropomorphic' snake, hardly surprising really. Serpents were often associated with demons. Yet her face was still...human.

"Are you done?" she asked, her voice had a strange quality to it, almost as if she wasn't really speaking with her mouth.

"Just about..." Alastor replied, tearing his eyes away from her somewhat perfect breasts.

The demoness smiled, and walked over to him. She crouched down in front of him, dipping her finger in a puddle of his blood. She licked the blood off her finger, never breaking eye contact with him. She smelt like incense and spices, Alastor found himself inhaling deeply.

"You are, to all intents and purposes, dead." She said, standing up. Alastor blinked, and then looked at his leg. It was surprising how thick a major artery actually was, especially when it was sticking out of your leg and completely severed. He also appeared to be missing quite a lot of flesh from his shoulder.

"So all this blood is mine?" he asked

"Oh yes. I'm very grateful for it too. But that isn't the point now. The only reason you are still here is because your soul is being kept in your body by my pentagram. I asked you before you died collapsed what you would give to-"

"Anything." Alastor said, cutting her off. "I'll give you anything you want."

The demoness looked slightly taken aback by his bluntness, but then laughed.

"You really are something different!" she said "Anything you say?"

"Yes. Anything. I'll give you my heart and my soul and my mind. Anything."

The demoness looked at him, studying his extremely serious face. With a wicked smile, she turned from him and looked out over the white moorland. Her back was covered with a pattern not dissimilar from a pythons, extending down from her neck to the tip of her tail.

"I have been trapped under this cursed rock for thousands of years. I want to see this world that Abaddon desires so with my own eyes." She said "But in order to do this, I require an anchor to this world." She turned to look at Alastor, her eyes glittering.

"I will make you a deal, human. You will give yourself to me, completely and utterly. Become my loyal and willing slave, to serve me without question. In return I will grant you new life, a life that will last for as long as I live, which is a very long time. You will be bonded to me, and will act as my anchor in this plane. But be warned, you will eventually lose all trace of your humanity as I corrupt that delicious soul of yours. I know you humans like to think things over-"

"Deal."

The Demoness stopped, then smiled.

"I see you made up your mind the very moment you laid eyes on me."

"I don't want my humanity." Alastor said, slowly rising to his feet. "I don't want this thing called humanity that brings so much pain and suffering. I discarded my old name, and took a new one. My soul is filled with hatred and wrath. I would gladly become your slave to be rid of it. I will give you everything I have. I will give myself to you wholly and utterly. So take it from me. Take everything I have for yourself. I do not care how long it takes to be rid of my humanity, just that it is gone."

"So very eloquent, so very angry!" The Demoness sang. "Oh how I have longed for someone like you. Very well, we have a deal."

She walked up to the human, pressing herself against him, sliding one arm around his neck, placing her other hand over his heart. Her tail coiled itself around his waist, pulling them close. Alastor gazed into her eyes, and felt his body become lighter. He couldn't pull his eyes from hers, his knees felt weak, buckling under him. She caught his weight easily and leaned in close.

"This will hurt more than anything you have ever felt before." She whispered, almost tenderly into his ear. Her skin was unbelievably smooth as she caressed him, muttering strange words to him. She leaned forwards, mouth parting, revealing delicate, pearly white fangs. Alastor felt his mouth open in response, and took her kiss. She placed one hand behind his head, holding him in place, her tongue dancing with his. The hand over his heart began to glow, softly at first, but the brighter and brighter. Alastor's eyes opened wide it was pain unlike anything he had ever experienced before. The demoness let him go, and he hit the floor hard.

The green fire from the pentagram on the ground roared into the sky, circling above his writhing body. On his chest, directly above his heart was the inverted pentagram, burnt there has a blood red scar. The pentagram on his chest blazed with light, and the fire above his head poured down into the symbol carved into his flesh. He could feel the fire burning him from the inside. He writhed and screamed, smashing his fists against the ground. His body spasmed, veins standing out in his skin as his wounds knit and mended, flesh filling out and becoming whole. He felt a hideous stabbing pain behind his eyes, blood streamed from them, pouring down his face. And then, just like that, the pain was gone. He lay there breathing heavily, his entire body steaming in the cold crisp air. He sat up and looked at his hands, flexing his fingers. He could feel a strange energy coursing through his entire body, making him feel energised and alive. He looked up at the demoness.

"By what name do I call you?" he asked, bowing his head.

"I am Vetis, Demon of Corruption, Duchess of the Pit, Commander of thirty legions of Hell, and daughter of Abaddon, the supreme ruler of the underworld, king of the darkness and lord of Evil...but you can simply call me mistress."

"Yes mistress. What plans did you have now?"

"Now? Now I will see this world with my own eyes, now I will see if this world really needs a third age of man."

A few hours later, as the sun was setting behind the hills, Alastor was sitting in the abandoned farmhouse he had taken shelter in a week ago from the blizzard. Upstairs in the main room, Vetis slumbered. She had collapsed shortly after his...submission? Alastor wasn't quite sure what had happened. He knew his wasn't dead, and he knew he was bonded to a (presumably) powerful Demon. But why had she wanted to make a deal with him? Presumably all of his blood had helped to break the seal that was trapping her, but why should she feel gratitude? And why had she collapsed? Maybe converting someone took a lot of energy? Maybe being in a physical form after so long was tiring? How subservient should he be anyway? What sort of tone should he take when addressing her? He clutched his head and shut his eyes.

So many questions and so very few answers. He looked up and out of the window, the setting sun illuminating a few snowflakes that had begun to fall. He was sitting in an armchair by the fireplace, within which he had built a large fire. He didn't feel cold (strange, as it was the middle of winter, and he was sitting there wearing nothing but a pair of combat trousers, with bare feet and chest) but he did appreciate the flickering orange light it produced. He reached down and picked up the mirror that was resting against the chair. He held it up against his chest and looked at his new tattoo. It looked like the same inverted pentagram that was on the tor, except this one was permanently scarred into his chest.

This one had a circle enclosing it, with odd runes around the outside. Alastor knew the circle was something to do with protection or control, but the meanings of the runes was beyond his grasp. Possibly some kind of demonic language? It was impossible to say. There was also a larger rune in the middle of the pentagram, where the lines of the pentagram formed a pentagon (the geometry of the whole thing made Alastor's head spin). It looked more like a crest than anything. Maybe it was like a royal seal or something? She did say she was a Duchess, which would make her royalty on Earth at least. He sighed heavily and put the mirror down. All of this was making his head hurt. He was by no means stupid; he was studying for a PhD before the corpses started walking. This was just all too much to take in, too much to cope with at the moment. He looked down at his hands and balled them into fists.

He had spent several months hiding out in a small town on the outskirts of Plymouth, training every single day in a small gym to become fit enough to survive. Without modern amenities and the constant threat of being eaten, you not only had to be smart, you had to be strong too. Whether it was outrunning zombies or lifting heavy objects to clear a path. Being fit also meant less chance of serious illness or injury, another plus when hospitals didn't exist anymore. Before the so-called "apocalypse" when he had been going to university, he had been rather fat and unfit. He had always been tall and strong though, somewhat of a contradiction, but that was past now. Now he was all lean strong muscle. Toned and hardened after six years surviving alone.

Unclenching his hands he thought back a few years to those initial months of nothing but solid training. It had been very hard work, but he remembered when he finally finished the first thing he did was go outside and get attacked by a corpse. It had been rather satisfying to break both its arms and shatter its skull with his bare hands with comparative ease (it had not been fun boiling water and scrubbing his hands with all the disinfectants he could find afterwards). Now he felt this dull throb of...power, running through his entire body. He couldn't sleep, he was just too energetic, and maybe he should go for a run? That might burn off some of this excess energy. He stood up, and immediately fell back into the chair, clutching his chest.

The pentagram had begun glowing green, sending waves of agony through his body. He arched his back and tried to scream, but the initial shock had winded him, so all he managed was a pained gasp. He collapsed back down and writhed and twisted, clutching at his chest. Lights seemed to dance in front of his vision, and it felt like every nerve in his body was on fire. He fell out of the chair onto his hands and knees in front of the fire, his entire body wracked with painful spasms. He reared back and let out a scream, the pentagram on his chest had begin to bleed, the blood running down his chest and dripping onto the floor. Where the drops landed, the stone tiled floor began to melt. The molten stone began to run together as more blood landed on it, forming a mirror of the pentagram on Alastor's chest.

He dropped down onto his hands again, seemingly stuck like this over the pentagram on the floor. The pain had subsided now, but it had not gone entirely. His entire body shook; sweat running down his face, no strength left to hold him up, yet somehow he was supported. The pentagram on the floor began to spin, slowly at first, but then faster and faster. Something was rising out of the center of it. It looked like a swirling cone of mercury, but reflecting the light from the fire in odd ways, like it was not quite obeying the laws of physics. The column of swirling metal rose up, and touched the pentagram on Alastor's chest. Suddenly his entire body went still. His limbs locked into place, his neck snapping straight. Alastor's own body had become a cage as he strange metal slowly began to spread across his chest. It felt cool at first, but then warm, leaving behind a tingling sensation.

It also felt heavy and incredibly dense, almost exactly like mercury. He felt the liquid ooze around his back, closing about his torso and creeping up his neck. It slid down his trousers, the tingling feeling increasing as it flowed over his crotch and enveloped. It slid down his thighs and around his legs. The liquid flowed up around his head, running down his hair and over his eyes. He could feel it flowing into his ears and up his tear ducts. Everything went dark as it coated his eyeballs, sliding down his optic nerve, filling his skull. He gasped again as another pulse washed through him; the liquid plunging into his open mouth, pouring into is stomach and his lungs. He tried to gasp again, but all he could manage was a thick gurgle, like he was gargling double cream. Suddenly, the invisible force holding him up was gone, and he hit the floor with a heavy thud. As he lay there, more of the liquid metal poured out of the pentagram and coated him with it. For the second time that day, Alastor passed out.

Upstairs, Vetis was sitting on the bed, a small portal was open in front of her, hovering in the air. She had just finished pouring liquid metal from an intricately carved stone container, which dissolved into the air when she had finished pouring. She closed the portal with a satisfied smile and lay back on the bed. Her smile widened as she thought about what she had just done.

"I'm going to make you a magnificent pet." She said to herself.

Alastor woke up. Except he didn't. It was odd. He was clearly awake, but this wasn't the farmhouse. For a start, everything was made from a strange liquid metallic silvery black substance. He stood up and looked around. All he could see, for what he presumed were miles, was a strange landscape, filled with spires and shapes of this odd silvery black liquid metal. It was like he had fallen into Tim Burton's nightmares. He jumped up and down a couple of times, and the ground seemed solid enough. He looked around, and approached the closest spire.

Running his hand over its surface, it felt solid, but he could see it moving. He turned away from the spire and walked down the only thing he could see that resembled a path. Through gaps in the spires he could see what he presumed was the sky. It was dark reddish black, with balls of what looked like green fire dotting it like stars. He continued down the path until he reached a clearing. In the middle of the clearing was a door. The door looked like it was made of wood, painted white. It stood out starkly against the metallic background. All around the door were white tiles that extended in all directions around the door for several feet. Alastor walked around the door. It seemed to follow him. Everywhere he viewed the door from, the doorknob was always facing him.

"Interesting...isn't it?"

Alastor turned when he heard the voice, and was somewhat surprised to see himself. Except, it wasn't him as he was now. It was he from before the apocalypse. Overweight and cheerful. The kind of person you'd expect to see behind some sort of medieval bar wearing a leather apron and roaring with laughter.

"I suppose I'm inside my own head then?" Alastor asked.

"Indeed I am."

Alastor blinked

"Okay...right...what part of me do I represent then?"

"Me? Hmmm...I guess I'm my Humanity. You know, the thing that allows me to keep my free will."

"I see. Well, I want to be rid of that part of me."

"I said that rather matter of factly. Am I sure I want to do that? I'm what makes me...me."

"No. YOU are what keeps me from gaining what I always wanted."

"Ahhh...you are serious. You have now separated me from you. We are no longer the same."

"What, just from me referring to you as "you"?"

"Indeed."

"Well you're not me. Not anymore. I've changed."

"Indeed you have. Now you want to get rid of your humanity and become something made from hatred and rage. That's why your mind looks like this. Demonic influence."

"How do I get rid of you?"

"Do you know what happens if you do?"

"I don't care."

"If you get rid of your humanity, you will lose your soul to that demon. You will lose everything that makes you you."

"No. I will lose my weakness. If I have to give everything to my mistress to achieve that, then so be it."

"Listen, by getting rid of me, you hand yourself to her on a silver plate. She will own you, not just in body, but mind and soul as well."

"I've always stuck to my side of a deal. You should know that."

"Deep down you know this isn't right."

"Deep down? Deep down I feel I would die for her. You are the thing that is preventing me from giving myself to her utterly."

"You are being corrupted. Your soul is becoming tainted with her evil. Soon you will be like her, a thing of blackness and hate. Corruption and fury. You will change in more ways than one."

"Angel..."

"What?"

"You're an Angel...aren't you?" Alastor said. Darkness began to swirl about him, gathering around his feet, like a heavy black fog.

"Don't be stupid. I'm you. You know I'm you."

"This is MY mind. I know what I am. That door is the door to my soul. My humanity lies in there...that blackness...wants to get in..."

The darkness billowed around him, covering his body like a robe, rising around his head like a hood. His eyes began to glow, becoming opaque green as the darkness enveloped him utterly. The him from before the end of the world was gone, in its place stood a creature clad in a midnight blue robe with golden armour and a helm that covered its face. Great white wings unfolded from its back, and it was armed with an elegant spear and a mighty shield.

"I tried. I tried to prevent the spill of demons into this world." It said, its voice was imperious and bold. "I tried to save thy soul from eternal damnation, but your stubbornness has been your undoing. I now must take steps to prevent any further spread of corruption."

The angel hefted its spear and raised its shield.

A rictus grin split the dark figures featureless face. It stretched up far higher than any mouth should be able to extend. Pearly white teeth shaped like daggers gleamed in the ruddy light. His eyes became insane round circles, and a mad laugh rolled from him, yet the mouth did not open.

"Will you walk within parlour...said the spider to the fly..." he said, again the mouth not moving, the words just being emitted as if from a speaker.

"What..." The Angel took a step back, clearly unnerved.

" 'Tis the prettiest little parlour, that ever did you spy..."

The shadow advanced, floating over the ground.

"You are no longer human! You are an abomination!" The Angel cried, and hurled its spear. The weapon passed through the shadow and arced around, back into the Angel's hand.

"...It seems I've caught an Angel. Time for him to DIE!"

Black tendrils shot from the shadows, stabbing through the Angel's raised shield, piercing its armour. The Angel let out a cry, and exploded into a fine pale mist. The shadows vanished. Alastor stood there, rubbing his cheeks. He looked around at the door. His eyes narrowed.

"I will not go back on my word. She can have me. I swear my undying loyalty to her. Lady Vetis is my mistress. She alone will I allow to command me. No one else."

He grabbed the doorknob and flung open the door. Blackness poured in through the open door like the onrushing tide.

Alastor awoke. He was in the farmhouse. He blinked. He was holding an angel by the throat. The same angel that had been inside his head. His arm was coated in the slivery black metal up to the shoulder. Bright crimson fire blazed along his skin.

"Unhand...me..." The Angel choked.

Alastor suddenly felt a wave of hatred overcome him. How dare this creature invade his mind and try and turn him against Mistress? He would crush this creature's spirit before devouring his heart!

Alastor snarled, hurling the angel across the room through a wall. Bricks crashed down as Alastor leapt through the wall into the freezing night. The angel had recovered remarkably well. It drew a long slender sword from its belt.

"Come then creature! First I will slay you and cleanse thy soul, then I shall banish the bitch queen back to hell!"

Alastor roared. Raising his arm he launched a searing bolt of crimson fire at the angel. Snow turned to steam under its passage; the angel parried the bolt with its sword, the deflected projectile exploded as it hit the ground. The angel lunged forwards, sword glittering in the moonlight. Alastor's body seemed to respond to this direct attack. The silvery black metal erupted from nowhere and clad him from head to foot. The metal solidified and formed shapes, like an ornate suit of armour, close fitting enough to practically be a second skin. Alastor caught the blade in a now gauntleted fist, and snapped it in half. His other fist came forwards and hit the angel so hard in the face, the golden helmet it wore crumpled.

Blue blood spattered the ground and seemed to freeze instantly. The angel collapsed to the ground, its helmet falling from its head. Alastor pounced on the angel, grabbing it by the front of its breastplate and smashing its head into the floor with the other hand. Green eyes blazed from within the depths of a featureless helmet as Alastor picked up the limp angel by the neck. He drew his other hand back, fingers elongating, becoming wickedly sharp blades. Alastor let out a reptilian hiss of triumph, and was about to deal the killing blow, when...

"Enough!"

Alastor's arm stopped dead. Blade tips centimetres from the Angel's heart. Vetis stepped from the house into the courtyard where the two had fought. She was wearing a long fur coat, but aside from that, she was still naked. Her eyes shone in the moonlight.

"Seems like this little angel failed its mission." She said, walking slowly over to the two combatants. The armour that covered Alastor melted away, except about his arms, where it melted back into a more liquid state. His body steamed in the freezing night air, and Vetis ran a finger gently across his back and down his arm, up to the angels chin.

"Drop her." She commanded.

Alastor let go of the angel, allowing her to crumple on the ground. Vetis knelt down next to her, and gripped her by the chin, forcing her head up.

"My my...such a pretty little thing." The demoness said with a wicked smile.

"Finish me, demon! Finish me so that I may be rid of your sinful stench!" the angel spat, a trickle of blue blood running down her face.

"Still such fire! Even after my loyal little pet had his fun with you."

"She was in my dreams...mistress." Alastor said, his voice seemed softer than it had before, and it resonated strangely.

"Oh I know. Trying to turn you from me I suspect."

"Yes mistress...but I would never betray you."

"You knew? You knew I was here?!" the angel asked, a horrified note entering her voice.

"Of course I knew! Stupid child! I am a Duchess of hell, after all."

"Duchess of...No...That's impossible! You can't be!" The angel struggled then, trying to free herself, but Vetis was for more powerful than her body showed. Vetis stood, and threw the angel into the air. Large thorned vines erupted from the ground and caught the angel as she fell, wrapping around her arms and legs, tying up her wings and pinning them down.

"You really are a pretty one, aren't you?" Vetis said looking up at the angel.

The heavenly creature had long silver hair and small perfect pointed ears. Her eyes were bright blue and glittered like sapphires. Her face was like an ancient Greek statue, pale skin, and flawless features. Her gaze burnt with defiance as she glared back at her captors.

"How did you get free from your prison?"

"Oh? You know of me then?"

"The entire Host knows of you, Corruptor."

"Such an unflattering name...still if that's what you will insist on calling me..."

"How did you escape? I demand to know!"

"Oh my dear sweet angel...you are in no position to demand anything! Besides, why would I reveal anything to such a low ranking peon? You aren't even an Archangel."

"Ha! They will come for me soon. Then you will be sent back to hell, and your creature will be purified, and the human's soul released."

There was a sound like leather being stretched from behind Vetis. She glanced over her shoulder at Alastor. His entire body had become tense, muscles bulging; the demonic metal on his arms rippled and pulsed.

"Alastor my dear, do you have anything to say to that?" Vetis asked

Alastor stepped forwards, his eyes burning the same crimson as the flames he controlled.

"You don't seem to understand." He said, his voice heavy with anger "You think I was forced into this. I wanted this! And if you or any of your kind lays a finger on my mistress, I will tear out your heart and consume it before your eyes as it beats its last!"

The angel looked stunned, and Vetis laughed and clapped.

"Well said! It seems you truly are mine after all."

"You saved my life mistress." Alastor replied, turning back to the demon, and bowing his head "I can never repay that debt."

"He truly is beyond redemption..." the angel said, closing her eyes and hanging her head.

"Never mind that...I have some questions for you."

"I will never tell you anything!"

"Hmmm...well then, lets see if I can deduce some things. I do love playing games with your kind. So easy to trick...to trap."

The angel remained silent.

"They must have known I was freed, so why send a minor peon such as you? Unless there was another reason they sent you?"

"Mistress?"

"Yes Alastor?"

"It is entirely possible that she is considered a liability."

"Such a remarkable mind! So logical...and yet so emotional! What sort of liability then?"

"Well...if I may...She might be leaning towards... 'Sins of the flesh'."

"What makes you say that?"

"When we fought...I felt nothing under her robe. No padding, no form of undergarment..."

Vetis glanced up at the angel. A cruel smile spread across her face.

"You've gone a remarkable shade of red for a creature with blue blood. Could it be that my pet is right? That you might have dabbled in that which is forbidden to you angels?"

The vines moved rapidly, tearing the angels blue robe apart. Her body was perfect; her white skin seemed to shine in the moonlight.

"Oh...How I missed this sight. I will very much enjoy extracting information from you. Bring her inside."

The thorns dropped the angel and receded back into the ground. Alastor walked over to the angel and reached out to grab her.

"Gently. I don't want her too damaged before I've had my fun."

"Yes mistress."

Alastor picked the angel up carefully around the waist, and began heading for the house. The angel brought her arm up and elbowed him sharply in the ribs. There was a dull thud. He looked down at her.

"I am considerably more than I once was. I can feel power swirling inside me. More than you could possibly hope to wield in your entire lifetime."

"Angels live for a very long time."

Alastor stepped back through the hole in the wall and headed for the stairs, which Vetis had already disappeared up.

"Why do you follow her so blindly? Can't you see she is corrupting your soul? This is what she is! She is evil and-" The angels sentence was ended with a small scream as Alastor slammed her against the wall of the landing as they reached the top of the stairs.

"She is my mistress! She is my everything! I willingly gave her my heart, body and soul! I will die for her if need be! Her voice echoes inside my head, her hands touch my heart, and her presence fills my soul with darkness! A Darkness I welcome!"

He dragged her into the main bedroom where Vetis was waiting. A shimmering pentagram surrounded the large bed in the middle of the room. Strange sigils glowed upon the walls. The door slammed shut behind Alastor and the angel. Alastor placed the angel on the bed, vines instantly sprouting from the wooden bed frame, binding her arms and legs, spreading them apart. The bed seemed to bulge in the middle, arching her back slightly. Her white wings drooped uselessly over the sides of the bed.

"Sins of the flesh, was it? The simplest, yet most effective way of pulling an angel down." Vetis said, casting aside her coat, revealing for the first time, her wings. They grew out of her back and rapidly doubled in size. They were black, blacker than anything should be. It was like they sucked in light. They were like the exact opposite of an angel's wing, which seemed to shine light in all directions. The black feathers rustled as she folded them.

"It feels so good to have them released at last." Vetis said, running a hand up her body, letting out a pleasurable sigh.

"Alastor, would you be so kind as to undress and come and help your mistress with a little something?" she said. There was a rustle behind her, and Alastor approached from behind, sliding his arms around her waist, before raising one up to her breasts, and one down to her crotch. He nuzzled against her neck, and gently bit the smooth green skin. Vetis gasped

"Harder!"

Alastor growled and bit down, his teeth elongating into fangs. Hot metallic blood flowed into his mouth and ran down his mistress's neck. There was a whimper from the angel. Vetis opened an eye and smiled.

"I can feel you getting all hot and wet..." she sighed.

"N-no..."

"Tell me your name."

"P-Perse-Persephone!"

"Goood..."

Vetis placed a hand on Alastor's head. Her eyes glowed.

"Taken of my blood...Become of my house." She said

The human let her go and dropped to the floor, the pentagram on his chest glowing brightly. He gasped out in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

"Now then." Vetis said, walking away from his shuddering form and climbing onto the bed, straddling Persephone.

"Now then, Persephone. The REAL fun begins."

"Do you think it wise to leave the angel alone?" Alastor asked.

Vetis looked at him, the out at the countryside as it sped past.

"Don't worry about it. She won't be returning to heaven any time soon."

They had left early in the morning, when the sun still slept below the horizon. They had taken an old military jeep from the farm and where now heading up country towards the city of Bristol. The roads were empty save for a few rusting cars, and covered in a thick blanket of snow. The jeep seemed to be having little difficulty coping with the snow, as it seemed to be melting on all around the jeep as it moved. Alastor felt a slight twinge in his gut. He was almost sad that nearly the entire population of his home country was dead. It made the place seem eerie and quiet. Vetis looked over at him from the rear passenger seats where she was sprawled out on a pile of cushions taken from the farmhouse.

"Feeling sadness are we?" she asked

"N-no! W-well...maybe a little..." Alastor replied, his voice suddenly becoming nervous.

"Oh dear. I can't be having any sort of weaknesses in my pet, especially not something like sadness or regret."

"I apologise mistress. It won't happen again."

"No. It won't."

Vetis reached forwards and placed her hand on the back of Alastor's head. He screamed out in pain, yellow light burning in is eyes and mouth. The Jeep screeched to a halt and Alastor slumped forwards, smoke rising from his eyes, mouth, nose and ears.

"I really do hate doing that you know."

Alastor raised his shaking arms and gripped the steering wheel. He slowly raised his head. His breathing was heavy and his entire body shook.

"S-sorry...mistress...It really will not happen again."

"Oh I know." Vetis said, leaning forwards and kissing the back of his head.

Alastor started the jeep and set off again. Vetis leaned back in order to study him better. His body had undergone some changes since last night. His skin was still a wonderful tan colour from spending so much time outdoors, but his once auburn hair was now the colour of blood. It was longer than it had been, and he wore it loose. It fell over his shoulders like a crimson waterfall. His eyes had turned a brilliant green and he had taken to walking around bare chested and footed, like he didn't feel the cold anymore.

"What do you remember from last night?" She asked. She didn't need to of course, she could just go inside his mind and pluck the answers right from his head, but she felt that this would somehow be doing him a disservice. A ridiculous notion in itself, considering he had given his entire being to her, but Vetis had lived for long enough to know when to trust a feeling and when not to.

"Not a whole lot mistress." He replied, changing gear and accelerating. "I remember you touching my head, and then such...wonderful pain? It was a feeling that is hard to describe."

"Do go on."

"I remember...feeling my bones change. I remember the feeling of my entire body changing."

"Interesting. Do you remember what happened next."

"We raped an angel." He said matter of factly. "Or rather, you began, and I joined in later."

"Do you remember what she told me?"

"No mistress, I do not."

"Well. If you're good, I'll tell you all about it."

Meanwhile, Persephone sat, huddled on the bed in the farmhouse. Tears streaked her face. Her still naked body was covered in demonic sigils drawn in blood, both hers and her former captors. The...ritual...they had performed was utterly depraved. They had violated her very being and had broken her utterly. Her once glorious white wings were now black and dull. Not even the sucking blackness of a demons wings. Her body still shook, she could not stop herself. She lay in a broken heap shielding herself from the empty world with her deformed wings. She sobbed into her hands. She had failed miserably, she had told them everything. It was impossible not to.

"Persephone?"

She heard her name called from downstairs. She knew it was another angel sent to find her. Her mind felt blank. She did not know if she should call out or stay silent. She didn't think she had the strength to do anything. There was the movement of air as the angel entered the room.

"By the maker! Persephone! What have they done to you?!"

Persephone recognised the voice now. It was not a voice she had ever expected to hear calling out her name. Gentle, warm hands seemed to scoop her from the bed. She looked up into the face of the Archangel Barachiel, one of the four princes of Heaven.

"M-my lord..." she muttered.

"Hush now child. Do not speak. You are safe." He said, his voice resonating softly, his entire body seemed to give of a soft golden glow.

"I'm so sorry..." Persephone sobbed, hiding her face. "I-I told them...I told them e-everything."

"Not now. You are hurt. More than you could possibly imagine."

They emerged from the house, and Persephone saw what appeared to be an entire host of angels.

"I have found her!" Barachiel called. "Open the gates!"

Two angels rose into the sky, holding out their long slender spears. To points of green light sprang from the spear tips and collided in the air, expanding rapidly forming a large swirling portal.

"Do not worry." Barachiel whispered, "You will be home soon."

Persephone awoke to the scent of incense and the sound of prayer. She blinked at the ceiling. It seemed to be made out of white marble. Sitting up she looked around. She was sat in a bed in a pagoda type structure. She looked out and saw rolling green hills, blue sky and bright sunshine. She was in Elysium, the home of those who died in battle, the home of the Angelic Hosts, the armies of Heaven. There was a sort of shimmering field around the pagoda, and she realised what it was. It was a quarantine field. Designed to keep those fallen or tainted from the rest of Heaven. Her pagoda was just one in a row of hundreds, arranged neatly in rows. She had seen them from the outside several times before.

The pagodas sat in the grounds outside the colossal barracks that housed the angelic hosts and the souls of mortals that agreed to fight with the Angels. They were used as hospitals to treat the injured. Most of them were empty, as war had not happened for millennia. There was a jug of water and a crystal glass next to the bed, floating in the air. Persephone suddenly felt incredibly thirsty and grabbed the jug, gulping down water as fast as she could. She drained the jug and sighed. A noise behind her made her turn. She instantly dropped to one knee and bowed her head. Through the shimmering barrier had stepped Barachiel.

"Please, there really is no reason to be so formal." He said, his voice like music and his words soft.

"My lord I...I'm sorry."

"Goodness me, what for?"

"I...I gave in to sin! I told the enemy everything!"

"Let us not speak of this now. I wish to know how YOU are feeling?"

"My lord?"

"You went through an incredible ordeal. I wish to know how you feel."

"I...I...the human...he was right, wasn't he? You sent me because I...I had experimented with sin..."

Barachiel let out a soft chuckle, bent down and lifted her easily off the floor, placing the surprised Angel on the bed. He snapped his fingers and a chair materialised. He seated himself in it, adjusted his long flowing robe and crossed his legs, levelling his calm gaze at her.

"You may be a soldier, but why should you not indulge in pleasure of the flesh?"

"But I have fallen! I am corrupted! My wings have blackened! I-"

"You have fallen because you gave in to the power of a demon. You accepted its dominion over you. That is why you have fallen, not because you 'experimented' here in Elysium."

"Then why was I sent? If the human was wrong then why was I sent to Earth?!" Persephone wailed, tears beginning to roll down her face.

"In truth? We felt the corruption of the human. He was the first in a great many millennia do have his soul infected with the demonic taint. We sent you because during the last war, you showed great prowess at turning back Humans who had become corrupted. We knew all the death would weaken the wards separating our worlds, so we were expecting demons to try and break through."

"So...I was sent because...I was the best?"

"Well, maybe not the best, but you must understand we thought this was a low level possession, something you could easily handle. Had we known an Archdemon was involved we never would have sent you."

"But we did send her, didn't we?"

Persephone's eyes widened. Through the barrier two more angels stepped. She recognised them instantly. It was impossible not to. The first, his mighty golden wings folded neatly behind his back, his burnished bronze armour glowing faintly in the sun, was the Archangel Michael, the head of the Council of Angels, second only to the Metatron, the voice of the Creator. The second was Uriel, known to the humans as "The Fire of God". Uriel was the one that brought the Final Judgement to mortals.

"Indeed we did, Michael." Barachiel replied "And it is because of our decision she has fallen. How could she possibly stand up to Vetis, the Demon of corruption?"

"The human surprised us as well." Uriel said, "We had not expected him to be willingly under the thrall of the demon."

Persephone felt somewhat overwhelmed. Three Archangels were stood (or sat) before her. The raw power these three beings emanated was incredible. Michael approached her, causing her to instinctively draw her wings up around her.

"I will not harm you." He said in a voice that commanded respect.

"It was I who made the final decision." He said, "And for my mistake I apologise."

Persephone was stunned. The grand general of Heaven's armies, the third most powerful creature in the entire realm was apologising to her!

"I...I...t-thank you." she stammered

"Unfortunately we cannot reverse what has happened to you. We know you are truly sorry for what happened, and you have His forgiveness. But only the destruction of the one who did this to you can return you to your rightful position as an Angel."

"Y-you want me to kill..."

"Oh no!" Uriel said with a laugh, his loud jovial tones seemingly shattering the spell the more softly spoken Michael had woven.

"If you ran into Vetis again she'd tear out your heart and consume your soul!"

"Uriel!" Barachiel scolded

"What? I'm only telling the truth."

"He is right though, Barachiel." Michael said. "If we sent her after the demon she would be torn limb from limb." He turned back to Persephone "No, our plan IS to send you back to Earth, but not to confront the demon, only to gather information."

"W-what sort of information?"

"Any and all. Why this age of man is ending so soon? Why the wards are weakening? How many more demons have made it through? But most importantly, how did Vetis escape her prison."

Barachiel got to his feet.

"We cannot ask her to do this! She has already been through too much!" he exclaimed.

"I agree with Barachiel." Uriel said with a nod in Barachiel's direction "It would be better to send one of the Cherubim."

"The Cherubim have already been dispatched to track down the Demon and her follower, Persephone's task will simply be information retrieval."

"I'll do it."

The three Archangels looked at Persephone.

"Are you sure about this Persephone?" Barachiel asked. "You must understand that, even though it pains me to say it, you have fallen. If you return to Earth you will have no way of returning to heaven, and we will be unable to contact you or even observe your journey."

"T-that's something I'm willing to risk. If the Cherubim succeed in their task, I will be returned to my position as a Potentate. If not...I will ask our Lord to show me the way."

"Your faith and perseverance is strong." Michael said. "An Angel will be along shortly to bring you the equipment you shall require and escort you to the White Gate. Uriel and I have a meeting with the Council of Seraphim to attend. Good day."

Michael and Uriel left the pagoda, leaving Persephone and Barachiel. The Archangel looked down at the Potentate.

"Are you sure about this? Nobody will force you to go through with this, and nobody will blame you for declining."

"I...have something I wish to confess." Persephone said, looking at her feet and fidgeting with the hem of the white hospital robe she wore.

"Oh? A confession to an Archangel is a rare thing indeed."

"I...I hate them."

"Hate is a powerful emotion."

"I hate them for what they did to me. I hate them for what they are. I...I hate myself for being so weak." Her entire body shook, but no tears flowed this time. The fallen angels eyes were set with determination.

Barachiel sat down next to Persephone and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"You are not weak. You are stronger than most. Bearing this burden by yourself is no small feat. But I see you are determined." He looked up as an Angel; the lowest in the Hierarchy of Heaven, entered the Pagoda carrying a large metal chest.

"I will meet you at the White Gate." Barachiel said and stood, passing the Angel with a nod and leaving the Pagoda. Persephone walked over to the chest where the Angel had set it down. She touched a panel on the lid, and the metal plates that formed the lid glowed briefly, before sliding back. She reached into the chest and pulled out a set of silver armour, made up of vambraces, greaves, a chest and back plate and pauldrons. All of them were expertly crafted. Inside the chest was a set of tough yet comfortable leather overalls.

Removing the robe, Persephone pulled out a set of underwear and put them on before donning the overalls. The dark green leather fitted her perfectly, forming to the curves of her body like a second skin. She buckled up the front before donning the armour. It was light and flexible, moving easily with her body and never restricting any movement. She took one last look at her wings, before folding them. They vanished with a small pop. The Angel helped her to do up the chest and back pieces, and attach the pauldrons. Persephone pulled on a matching set of fine leather cestus, which had small metal plates running over the fingers, knuckles and the backs of the hand. Once all the armour was on, there was a click, and lines in the armour glowed blue seemingly fixing it to the overalls so that it became almost like natural armour plating. The final piece of equipment was a utility belt, which contained a number of pouches and containers.

"There is a list of the pouch contents in the chest as well." The Angel said.

"Thank you."

As they headed out of the Pagoda, Persephone blinked in the bright light. It was funny; it had never bothered her before. She looked around the Elysium fields as the headed for the White Gate. Potentates and Human souls trained in mock battles over the fields. She had been fighting on these fields once. She had always been very serious in her duties. They arrived at the White Gate, placed at the edge of Elysium. The green fields dropped away sharply into a black abyss. The White Gate was the gate from which Heaven's armies marched in times of war. There was only one person standing by the gate. It was Barachiel. He looked up as she approached.

"Where are the gate guards?"

"They have been given a...break. This is somewhat of a secret mission." Barachiel replied.

"Am I really that mistrusted now by my peers?"

"You can't blame them. You are only the second angel to become one of the Fallen since the first war with the Underworld."

"I see. Well, I am ready."

"Before you go I have a gift for you...and some advice."

Barachiel held out his hand and a sword materialised in mid air. It was a broadsword about five feet long and held in a dark leather scabbard decorated with intricate and delicate patterns. The hilt was simple; it had a straight bar crossguard and a hand-and-a-half grip with a spherical pommel. Barachiel handed the blade to Persephone. She drew the sword from its sheath. The blade was plain and unadorned, but it was perfectly balanced and hummed slightly in the breeze.

"This blade is called Gladius ex Carmen, the Sword of Songs. Its blade is the sharpest in all of heaven and it sings when it is swung."

"But...this is your blade! This is the sword you used to slay the Archdemon Archanon during the first Great War!"

"Yes. And I am giving it to you. Use it well. Now as for the advice...there are still approximately one billion humans left surviving on Earth. You might have fallen, but you are still a Potentate, a warrior angel. It is your divine duty to protect these humans if you can. You may gather as much information as you can, but you will not be able to return to heaven. My advice therefore is this. Stay on Earth. Gather the survivours of this strange Apocalypse and gather them to you. Keep them safe. Once you have saved enough humans, I believe your sins will be forgiven, and your rank restored."

"But what about the Cherubim? Why send me on this mission if I cannot get back?"

"For all of Michael's honeyed words, he is still a soldier. He believes that keeping you here in this current state will only weaken us." Barachiel's voice had become hushed, and had taken on an urgent tone. "He has decided that sending you to Earth will keep you out of the way. The Cherubim have been sent to slay the Demon, but I fear they will fail. Vetis is more powerful than Michael realises and I don't know why."

"But-"

"Just listen! If you gather enough Humans to your cause, and you protect them, their faith in you will give you the strength and power to at least defeat Vetis' human companion. It will also give you the strength to return to Heaven."

"But why is Michael doing all this! What purpose does it serve?"

"I do not know. I fear there is something going on that even I do not know about. Now, you must leave, we have spoken too long."

Persephone strapped the long sword to her back and looked at Barachiel.

"Thank you for all you have done for me my Lord." She said, and ran to the gate, opening it and leaping through the green portal beyond. The gate closed with a clang.

Persephone fell through the portal, and emerged on Earth, still falling through the sky. The portal had appeared quite high up. She plummeted down and hit the ground. The shockwave caused by her landing blasted the snow away for several meters. She clambered out of the crater and saw she had landed near the Farmhouse. Gritting her teeth, she turned her back and headed out into the English countryside.

Barachiel turned from the gate and saw Michael standing in front of him.

"Well?" he asked

"She will do as I have instructed her. Still, I feel guilty about using her in this way."

"She may not find out what the Underworld is up to, but she should succeed in gathering enough faith to increase our power."

"I only hope she survives this ordeal. She does not deserve any of this."

"Do you say that because she is your sister? Or because you lack faith in our Lord?"

"If the Lord has decided upon her fate, it is not my duty to question his decision."

"Good. Let us go. The less you dwell on this the better."

Alastor looked around the shop. They were in the main shopping district in the center of Bristol. The city was completely abandoned save for the dead. The shop they were in had been closed for six years, so a thick layer of dust had settled over everything.

"So this is the kind of thing humans wore?" Vetis asked

"A certain subculture, yes."

"What were they called?"

"Well this shop catered towards two types of subculture. 'Goths' and 'Metalheads'."

"And you were one of these Metalheads?"

"Yes. But I never dressed like this. Now it seems strangely...appropriate."

Vetis turned back to the clothes racks.

"Well I must say I do rather like these garments."

"Well, nobody will mind if we take some." Alastor said with a smile.

"I suspect they would not."

Vetis reached into a clothes rack and withdrew a red leather corset with black thronging.

"Oh yes...this is very me." She said, handing it to Alastor.

"May I ask you something, mistress?" He said, dipping his head slightly.

"Ask." Vetis said, still going through the racks of dusty clothing.

"Well its just...I never expected a demon to be particularly interested in...this kind of thing."

Vetis pulled a pair of black leather trousers from the rack. They had decorative leather thronging crisscrossing down the outside of the legs.

"You will soon learn that we are incredibly vain creatures. We love to look at ourselves. However we lack the creative ability to create such things as this." She handed the trousers to Alastor and glided over to the shoe section.

"Fortunately humanity came along and began creating all the things we could not. Naturally we ate it up."

She picked a pair of black, knee high boots with more buckles on than was strictly necessary. Finally she went over to a large rack of various different style coats and picked out a dark purple leather trench coat with a wide flaring collar and a tapered waist.

"Perfect. Now I just need a mirror..."

"There are changing rooms over there." Alastor said, nodding towards an old sign hanging off the wall.

"Good. I haven't seen myself for ever such a long time."

Alastor handed her the clothes and she vanished into the changing rooms. He looked around the shop. In truth, he had never even been in a shop like this. He looked down at himself. He was wearing tattered and bloody combat trousers and that was it. He looked around the shop and picked up a pair of black DMs. He tossed them aside. There wasn't mush point in shoes if his improved body could handle him being barefooted. He wondered into the men's section and looked around. He picked up a pair of leather trousers and frowned. Was he really considering wearing these? Of course he was. He pulled off his tattered trousers and underwear, and pulled on the leather trousers. They creaked somewhat and were rather tight. He pulled them off and tossed them aside. He stood naked in the shop, looking around. None of this kind of stuff suited him. If he were thinking from a practical standpoint, he'd need something that was tough, and allowed freedom of movement. Of course he also wanted something that didn't make him look like an anime character.

Looking out the smeared and dusty shop window, he could see the street they were on. Long abandoned buildings covered in several feet of snow. Opposite the shop they were in was a sports shop, advertising the sale of martial arts uniforms. Alastor stepped out into the street and crunched through the snow over to the other shop. The door was locked, so he pulled it quite easily out of the wall. Inside was the usual sports paraphernalia. Alastor found the martial arts uniforms and was surprised to find a number of Judogi, in white, black and blue. Naturally he went straight for the black Gi. He pulled on the trousers with reinforced knees. They were roomy and gave good space to move, but weren't ridiculously baggy. They seemed pretty tough too.

He grabbed one of the jackets, surprised to find it was thick and double stitched, with reinforcing on the shoulders, under the arms and on the elbows. He assumed this was because Judo involved a lot of grabbing people. He put the jacket on and found a mirror. He brushed the dust off and looked at himself, closing the jacket with his hand. It looked better hanging open. Alastor found he rather liked the look of his bare chest and abdomen. His muscles looked a whole lot more defined than they had before. He flexed and they bulged under his skin like steel cables. He smiled. Okay, it was kind of oriental and a bit anime, but it'd do.

"I say! You are looking fetching now."

Alastor turned and looked at Vetis. She had followed him into the shop after changing herself. She looked stunning in her new clothes. She had complimented her outfit with several long silver necklaces attached to pentagrams and upside down crucifixes.

"Now that we are fully equipped, my tour of this world can finally commence."

"Of course mistress."

They stepped out of the shop and as they did so, a shot rang out over the rooftops. Vetis blinked. Alastor's hand was in front of her face, a small trickle of blood was running down his arm. It appeared he had caught the bullet. Vetis was quietly shocked. She hadn't even seen him move. And if she hadn't seen him move, then there was something more to this human than what she had given him. Opening his hand, Alastor dropped the bullet, which landed with a thud in the snow. He lowered his hand and looked over his shoulder.

"Mistress?"

"Go."

There was a blast of air and snow as Alastor shot upwards, arcing over the buildings on the high street and landing on the roof where the shop had come from.

There was a very surprised looking man holding a rifle.

"Whu-"

Alastor grabbed the stunned human by the face and threw him off the roof. The man screamed as he flew through the air. Alastor launched himself off the roof and caught him in mid air, falling to the pavement with a boom. Stepping over the cracked and broken tarmac, Alastor dragged the gibbering man over to Vetis.

"Oh dear. Clearly the surviving humans have no respect for their betters." She said. Looking down at the man who had been forced to his knees, Alastor's iron grip on the back of his head.

"There must be others." Vetis continued, "Where are they?"

"T-the cathedral!" The man stammered, eyes wild with fear.

"How many?"

"F-forty!"

"Women and children?"

"Yes!"

"Good. Kill him."

"Wh-what!?"

Alastor lifted the man off the floor by the head. His free hand formed itself into a long sharp blade, and he plunged it into the man's lower back, ripping it upwards splitting the human in half from the waist up. Alastor tossed the gory mess aside where it hit the street with a splat. A moaning sound echoed up the street as a number of corpses emerged from alleyways, drawn by the smell of fresh blood.

"Lets find this cathedral then." Vetis said, turning away "I've thought of a final way to test your loyalty to me."

"And something else..." she thought privately.

Alastor didn't move. He was looking at his hands. Vetis turned and looked at him. The dark silvery metal was coating his hands. It solidified and formed gothic style plate gauntlets, with the fingertips tapering to points. He pushed up the wide sleeves of his coat and moved the metal up to just below his elbow. Seemingly satisfied with his new gauntlets, he dropped his arms and looked up, smiling sheepishly.

"Sorry, Mistress. I had to get the look right." He said meekly.

"We might make a halfway decent demonic entity of you yet." Vetis replied with a slight smile.

The view from the top of the cathedral was fairly good. Its spires afforded a decent view of the city. The lookout however, was not expecting any sort of attack to come from above. This was why he was caught completely unawares when Alastor landed on his shoulders so hard, his spine exploded through his skull. Stepping off the bloody corpse, Alastor flicked the gore from his feet and looked around. The Cathedral was huge. It had two large bell towers at the front, flanking the main entrance, which was heavily barricaded, and a third tower in the middle of the building. He went over to the side of the tower and jumped onto the ledge. He dropped off the side, claws digging deeply into the stonework, swinging himself through the wooden slats of the bell tower window. He landed gracefully on the platform inside the bell tower. The huge bronze bells hung silently before him, huge thick icicles hung from their rims, like cold blue stalactites. He grinned and placed one foot against the largest bell and pushed hard. The bell swung back and then...

The tolling bell shattered the stillness of the city. The massive icicles fell from the ringing bell and smashed very far below. Alastor gave the bell another hard push, before leaping down the tower. He accelerated past wooden stairs and bell ringing ropes, smashing into the floor below. He got to his feet and brushed bits of flagstone from his Gi. He peered through the dust and saw a thick, old wooden door leading out of the tower. He punched the door off its hinges and stepped into the Cathedral itself.

The colossal pillars and gothic vaulted ceiling really was a site to behold. He looked down the hall towards the Nave Altar and grinned. He could see humans huddled behind barricades in front of the altar. He began walking down the center of the huge cathedral towards the barricade. A bullet ricocheted off the marble by his foot. The shot itself echoing around the hall, along with a rather harsh sounding male voice.

"What do you want?! Who are you?!"

Alastor grinned like a shark...almost literally, as all is teeth were becoming pointed and sharp.

"I am the Angel of Death!" He called, his voice booming round the cathedral. He raised his arms. "The bell tolls for thee! Answer its call!"

This time, the shot hit him rather squarely between the eyes. Alastor stopped, gingerly touching the wound. He grimaced and pulled the bullet out with a spray of blood. He looked rather dispassionately at the bullet. He looked up and grinned wickedly. Crimson fire burst into life, covering his entire body, the bullet melting in his fingers.

"Now that wasn't very nice, was it?" He hissed.

Alastor sighed. He raised his hand and licked the blood off it. He looked towards the group of terrified children that were backed against the altar at the end of the cathedral. Alastor was stood amongst the corpses of their parents and guardians. Blood was thick on the ground, lying in deep pools. Fires hissed and spat as the blood flowed into them.

"Such innocence you have...even after seeing the wholesale slaughter of your families." He said, stepping forwards. The children screamed.

"SILENCE!"

The echoes faded away and the children were quiet. Staring up at Alastor with huge, terrified eyes.

"You witnessed the same thing that led to me wanting to lose my humanity." He continued, crouching down in front of them. The oldest seemed to be about ten, the others being around seven to nine years old.

"Now...this is real life you see. So no superhero is going to come swooping in at the last second to save you. That isn't how the world works. Instead, I'm going to sacrifice every last one of you to my mistress."

He reached out a hand, fingers growing into long thin blades. There was a spray of blood, and one of the children slowly fell into five pieces.

"The death of innocence is so sweet!" He crowed, as the warm blood of the children flowed over the altar.

"Mistress! Take the innocent souls of these children! Take the souls of the ones I have slain! Increase your power! My heart and soul are yours! I surrender my free will to you! The blood of these sacrifices is my oath! I shall never betray you, and as long as you live, I shall forever protect you!"

The altar blazed with an evil black light. A pillar of blue fire shot into the air, through the ceiling of the cathedral. And then it was gone. Alastor turned, and stopped. Six Cherubim hung I the air in front of him. They were clad in thick golden armour and wore ornate purple robes. Each one was armed with a mighty spear and a broad shield. Ornate, plumed helmets obscured their faces. They each had four glittering wings that beat the air in rhythmical symmetry.

"We arrived too late." One said

"We were unable to save the humans. It even sacrificed the children." Another said

"It clearly has renounced its humanity. It can no longer be saved." Another said.

"Then we must do the Lords work, and erase it from this world." Another said.

Six spears were pointed towards Alastor in perfect unison.

"Four wings? You must be the Cherubim...Heavens elite." Alastor said.

"Indeed we are creature. We shall be your executioners. Prepare!"

Alastor grinned, and crouched into a ready stance. Six spears were launched towards him all at once. He jumped up and the spears smashed the ground where he had been standing. The angels moved their hands and the spears followed Alastor. The angels were moving like it was a dance, an aggressive war dance. Their armour clanked in threatening ways, as they controlled their spears.

Alastor found himself being pushed back. The spears were coming in from all directions, and it was all he could do to keep dodging. A spear came suddenly from the right and grazed his arm. He fell back with a splash into the pools of blood. He got up and looked at his arm. There was a deep gash, but no blood flowed. Instead the flesh was charred and smoke rose in wisps from the wound. The spears had returned to their owner's hands.

"You cannot win, creature."

Alastor grimaced, and the wound in his arm sealed itself shut.

"Oh really?" He panted.

"Impossible! A wound made by a Holy Spear healed?!"

"As I suspected." A new voice said. The angles dropped to the ground, stood to attention and saluted with their spears. Alastor looked to the man who had just spoken. He was clad in a simple tunic, and armoured with roman style chain mail and greaves. He wore a simple leather belt with a sword hanging by his side. He carried a long slender lance. He walked past the angels and stopped a little ways from Alastor.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked.

"A roman soldier?" Alastor replied.

"I was, for a good number of years. Before I heard the voice of my Lord. I am Saint George."

Alastor burst out laughing.

"Hold your tongue you vile cur!" one of the Cherubim demanded.

"Saint George?" Alastor spluttered "THE Saint George? George and the Dragon?"

"Yes, that is I. This lance is the one I used to slay said Dragon. And it is the lance I will use to slay you."

"Go ahead and try-"

Alastor was cut off when the thrown lance pierced right through his chest. His eyes widened and he slumped to his knees. He hadn't even seen George move. The saint walked up to him and wrenched the lance free.

"If you mean to fight, then fight. Do not talk or mock thy enemy."

Alastor gasped. There was a hole right through his chest. The hole seemed to burn, like there was something on the lance. On the lance?

The angels and Saint George turned to leave. Alastor's laughter made them stop. George turned to see Alastor getting to his feet.

"Of course! It all makes sense now!" He laughed, one hand on his face.

"What devilry is this?" George said, taking a step back.

"Your lance! Mistress planned this entire thing! Oh it's all so clear now. Your lance still has the essence of the Dragon you slew on it!"

"Wait...no...No! That's impossible! For that to happen you would have to be...to be..."

"The ancestor of the dragon you killed?"

"It can't be! If that were so then you..."

"All I needed was the blood of the Dragon...and I would manifest my true power. Mistress gave me the physical form...but I required the essence...the spirit."

Alastor suddenly lurched, his whole body went rigid, his eyes wide, mouth agape. Veins stood out on his forehead. The blood that lay all around him began moving towards him, rising into the air and filling the hole in his chest. Alastor screamed and a blast of energy threw George and the angels back. Alastor's eyes turned red, his pupils becoming slits. His teeth elongated, becoming conical daggers, and his jaws began to crack and stretch outwards. The black metal burst from his skin, coating his body and hardening, turning into a shell.

Horns began to sprout from his head, and his hair turned into crimson flames. The horns spiralled up and swept back, holding the red flame that was his hair between them. He shoulders broadened and thickened, muscles growing larger and more powerful. His spine began to elongate as well, becoming a long powerful tail. His head was no that of a dragons, supported by a thick neck, his face had become a short powerful snout, long teeth poking out from the top of his mouth. His fingers indeed in thick dark talons, and his legs and feet had become thick and powerful. His eyes shone the colour of blood, and the black metal cracked and fell away, leaving behind hard black scales. Alastor grunted, and pulled off his Gi jacket (The Gi itself had survived intact, there was enough room to accommodate the dragon forms larger build it seemed). Two huge black wings burst from his back, causing him to roar and fall to one knee.

George got to his feet.

"No! Impossible!"

The Cherubim began backing away.

"Illuyanka! The Black Dragon!" One said

"Hold your ground!" George ordered, slamming the butt of his lance into the ground as the maelstrom of power subsided.

"That is not Illuyanka! That is only a decendant of his! I slew the real Illuyanka...this one mearly used his ancestors essence trapped on my lance to awaken!"

Alastor stood up and stretched his wings, revealing his vast wingspan. He cracked and popped his joints, settling into his new form.

"An anthropomorphic Dragon?" George said, "I did not expect this."

Alastor roared and was gone. George blinked, and the Cherubim beside him flew backwards with Alastor pile driving him into a pillar. The angels armour shattered on impact and blue blood splashed over the marble floor. Alastor rose from the corpse, blue blood dripping from his mouth and talons. He let out an earthshaking roar, and attacked again, grabbing another Cherubim by the arm, and tearing its head clean from its shoulders.

A third died when Alastor plunged his hand up to the elbow in its chest. George was in shock. He had killed three Cherubim before any of them could even react. The three remaining let out a simultaneous battle cry and struck hard with their spears. Alastor caught all three spears in one hand, and snapped the metal hafts.

"We can't fight this!" one Cherub cried backing away.

"Yes we can! He is running on residual energy from the transformation! Once that is gone He'll be vulnerable!" There was a scream as another of the Cherubim was caught by the foot as he tried to escape to the air. George struck out with his lance, but Alastor swung the angel into the path of the lance, skewering him through the heart.

"No!"

"My Lord! We must retreat! We can return when his power is gone!"

"You two get out of here! I will hold him!"

"Very well sir!"

The two remaining Cherubim soared into the sky and out of the hole that the column of blue fire had made before. Alastor opened his wings and was about to pursue, but George's sword narrowly missed his head. Leaping back he landed on all fours, snarling.

"Where is your reason?! You are little more than a beast now!"

"He is a beast because it is what he wants." George spun around, sword at the ready. Vetis stood behind him, her coat rippling in a breeze that had no direction.

"You." He said, eyes narrowing.

Vetis walked around him to where Alastor was. He reached out and stroked the dragon's head. Alastor closed his eyes and let out a rumbling growl, rubbing his head against her leg.

"Isn't he sweet?" She said with an evil smile "I thought he might have draconic blood in him, but never did I suspect he was the ancestor of Illuyanka."

"You planned all of this? You truly are an evil creature!"

"Sticks and stones boy. Right now you have no chance of winning. I suggest you leave before I have my little pet here tear out your spine."

"You would actually let me go? I do not believe you!"

"The only reason we are having this conversation is because I wish it! I want you to return to your masters and tell them of this. Of my return and the resurrection of the Dragon Flame."

George scowled. He was hopelessly outmatched now. Before he had stood a chance if he could have worn out the dragon, but with an Archdemon here, his chances of winning had dropped to zero.

"This isn't over!" he said, and was gone in a flash of golden light.

Vetis sighed and walked over to the altar. All that was left of the humans Alastor had killed were bleached white skeletons. She kicked the remains, before going over to one of the angel corpses. She tore off the armour of the one missing a head, and ripped its chest open. Reaching inside she pulled out its heart. She lifted it up and placed it on her tongue. Her snakes jaws stretched around the tongue and her sharp teeth pierced its flesh. She swallowed the heart and drank down the blood released by it. Alastor watched her quizzically. Vetis placed a hand on her chest and sighed with satisfaction.

"The hearts of angels restore and increase demonic power. Our hearts fuel angelic power." She said. The dragon slunk over to the blood free altar and curled up. Vetis appeared next to him, and placed a hand on his shaking shoulder. The dragon whined, and its scales slowly evaporated like an evil black mist. Alastor lay on the ground, sweat covering his body.

"I...I feel...What happened?"

"Well, you swore your oaths to me with blood, thus making them eternally binding."

"I see...and after that? All I remember was pain...then power. Such wonderful power. My mind was lost in a trance. The beast inside me took over. I surrendered to it. I was enveloped by it...I wanted the feeling to never end."

"I think you know what happened. Something that can only happen after truly losing ones humanity."

Alastor smiled.

"Thank you mistress. Thank you."

A while later, Vetis sat on the edge of the central tower of the cathedral. Inside the cathedral Alastor slept. He had used a massive amount of energy during his fight with Saint George; even after consuming two angel's hearts he had remained nearly catatonic. Vetis decided she would leave his body to recuperate by itself. She looked out over the silent snow covered city. The sun was setting, casting a deep orange glow across the landscape.

She could admit that there was beauty to this world. Demons weren't the uncouth savages bent on destruction they were portrayed as. A good majority were extremely sophisticated, appreciating things like beauty, and the finer things in life. The thing that set them apart from the Angels was that they embraced the beast the existed within. They did not suppress it. This manifested itself in their appearance, animalistic and powerful. Vetis was no different. She embraced her inner monster and lived according to her own wishes. Her servant was beginning to understand this, although slowly. There was a small crystal cube floating in the air next to her, glowing with a soft clear light.

"What do you mean you cannot return?" Said a voice, apparently emanating from the crystal.

"Its exactly as I said. All those millennia trapped in that prison has somehow sapped my strength. With heaven sending their toy soldiers at us I suspect it won't be long before I am back to my former self."

"Well that is one bit of good news. Our Home has changed considerably since your absence. After you were imprisoned the council signed a treaty of non-aggression with Heaven."

Part of the stonework where Vetis was sitting cracked.

"They did what?!"

"They have turned to politics more than war. They are only interested in increasing their own wealth and power."

"Those fools...they waited until I was out of the way...they must have planned this for a very long time."

"Well, their plan succeeded. The council knew that if you still led them, the war would never end."

"This is most unsettling. Because of my little pets sacrifice in this holy place, the gates between Our Home and this world have weakened, I suspect it won't be long before the Council sends someone to make an attempt on my life."

"Always so pessimistic. I don't think they'd go that far."

"I would."

"Mmmmyes...What about this pet of yours then? You say he is the descendant of Illuyanka?"

"Indeed he his. His draconic nature manifested itself today. He killed four Cherubim rather easily."

"Impressive. Are you sure he is under your control? Illuyanka was always extremely willful. It was the thing that lead to his death."

"He has sworn multiple blood oaths to me, and he is utterly devoted. He has given everything to me. I own him."

"Well I certainly hope so. Now I must go, I believe my time is up. They monitor off world calls rather closely these days."

"Until we meet again."

The crystal went dark. Vetis caught it out of the air, making it vanish.

"Damn." She said.

A tall dark figure turned away from the crystal cube. He stepped into the yellow light streaming in through the high vaulted windows. He was to all extents and purposes, a wolf. An anthropomorphic wolf, but still a wolf. His black fur was thick and well kept, his eyes gleaming in the light. He turned to a kneeling figure swathed in robes.

"It is as she said, master." The kneeling figure said. "The gate has weakened around her current position."

"Can you break through?" The Wolf asked. His voice was deep and resonating.

"We have begun the process already. We should be through within one earth day."

"Good. Make sure she does not come back to Hell alive. Oh, and bring me both their hearts."

The kneeling figure vanished into the shadows. The wolf looked up at the window and grinned.

"I'll make you wish you had never abandoned us." He said aloud.

Vetis walked through the columns inside the Cathedral. It really was impressive. All this effort into a building to venerate an unseen deity, and his supposed son that was killed because of the hatred of humans. They were really quite interesting creatures, humans. Stuck between Angels and Demons, constantly wrestling with their inner desires. She walked to the altar where Alastor was lying. His body was drenched in sweat and he was rolling around quite a lot. She sighed and knelt down beside him. Contrary to popular belief, Demons were not actually evil (Well, they are about as evil as they come, but Demons don't see themselves in that way). They simply embraced all their natural desires and the Beast Within. Because of this, the so-called "Seven Deadly Sins" would manifest.

There was nothing deadly or sinful about them really. They were natural emotions and desires felt by all sentient living things. It was the Angel's that wished to suppress this. To Demons, war was nothing bad, it was a natural cycle of life. If anything they saw themselves as the heroes, attempting to free the world from the dominion of the boring lifeless featherbrains. Vetis often wondered why Demons were always portrayed as evil. They were only guilty of acting on desires. If anything they had more freedom than Humans or Angels. Stories of Humans being possessed by Demons...simply a Demon taking what they wanted. Why was that so bad? Possession would be impossible if Humans just accepted themselves for who they were. She sighed again and placed her hand on Alastor's forehead. His skin was very hot. Alastor was a perfect example of a human accepting what he was. Of course Vetis had corrupted his soul beyond redemption and poisoned his body with her own demonic essence. But he had demonic blood flowing in him anyway. Besides, Vetis was only taking what she wanted. She looked down at the human.

She blinked. Snapping her fingers, a bright sphere of light appeared above them, illuminating the area around them. She peered at Alastor's arms. His fingernails had become rather sharp looking black talons. His skin was also darkening up to his elbow, but stopping there. She could see scales beginning to form. His muscles were writhing like snakes under his skin. He arched his back and let out a choked gasp. Black slime bubbled out of his mouth, and his tongue seemed to be growing longer. Vetis was slightly disturbed. She had never seen a transformation like this before. His eyes snapped open. Is irises had become bright yellow, and is pupils had transformed into reptilian slits. His canine teeth on his upper and lower jaw were elongating into fangs. Vetis grabbed his Gi jacket and tore it off. There was on evidence of a change anywhere else on his torso.

She grabbed his trousers and ripped them off. From the waist down to his knees, he had the body of a dragon. The scales were still extending down his legs. The bones in his feet and legs were making crunching and grinding noises as they rearranged themselves. Vetis got up and stepped back. All around Alastor, metals were being sucked out of the marble and granite floors and were being absorbed into his body. It seemed his body was turning these metals into extra mass for his transformation. The scales had reached his feet now, his bones cracking into their new position. Four large, powerful and dextrous toes now adorned each digitigrade foot. There was a gristly sound as a long tail emerged from his spine. It was interesting to watch the flexible metal bones form, and then become clad in layers of stone muscle and scaly skin. His arms were now that of a dragon, all the way up to his elbows.

His muscles seemed to ripple and bulge for a few minutes after his transformation, before his body finally settled down. Vetis looked over his new form. From the waist down he had the anatomy of a dragon. Black scales covered his legs down to his draconic feet. He seemed taller, although it was hard to tell with him lying down. He seemed to be sleeping quieter now. His breathing was normal and his thrashing had stopped. Vetis ran her hands over his body, feeling his human skin and the draconic. The scales felt tough, yet smooth, much like a snakes. His muscles had a certain delicious squishyness to them, also like squeezing a big snake. She ran her hand over the pentagram burned into his chest. His entire body tensed, and his muscles suddenly went from soft and squisy, to iron hard, like thick cables. She moved her hand and he relaxed.

"M...mistress?"

Vetis looked down and saw Alastor looking at her. His eyes were still yellow, but less bright now. His new fangs also didn't seem to impede his speech either.

"Yes, what is it?"

"I feel...I feel good." He said, slowly sitting up. He stopped and looked down at himself. He looked at his hands, and arms, running his claws over his legs and feet. He hadn't become more slender like Vetis thought he might. He was still tall, but his body radiated this sense of raw physical power, which somehow made him seem larger and more threatening. Vetis suddenly felt really turned on. She looked up at the crucifix displayed on the altar and grinned. She walked over to the altar and knocked the cross to the floor. Clicked her fingers and her clothing vanished. She turned around, stark naked, and beckoned to Alastor.

"Come here, slave. Let us defile the house of God even more."

Vetis lay on a pile of blankets and old mattresses. Alastor was curled around her, holding her like he was shielding her from something. He was fast asleep of course, but it seemed to be a restful sleep. She listened to his breathing, which sounded so different from before. Every time he breathed out there was a dull rumble in his chest, like thunder. He had become more bestial than Vetis had originally thought. It was like he really was a dragon most of the time. Of course he didn't fuck like a dragon, ooh no.

He was MUCH better. She wondered what had happened to him. She had never seen anything like this before. Every time she took a new servant, and they relinquished everything to her, they ended up as a gibbering mass of flesh. He seemed to be going the other way. It was like the human was evolving. Whether this was because of his demonic blood or because he really wasn't like other humans, Vetis didn't know. She had suspected he had demonic blood, and that George's lance would activate it. Of course it helped that he wanted all of this. Looking out into the dark cathedral, Vetis found herself enjoying the warmth of his body against her back, the smoothness of his skin and scales. She shook her head.

"It's not like you to get this attached." She muttered quietly to herself. "What makes this human so special?"

Alastor shifted in his sleep, his tail wrapping around Vetis' leg. She smiled. He really was like an animal when he slept. It was almost...cute? Was that a word that could be used to describe a six foot five inch draconic engine of death and destruction? As far as she could tell, he was utterly devoted to her. But how devoted remained to be seen. True, he had slaughtered all the humans living in here without a second thought, including the children. She rolled over so she was facing him. His sleeping face looked so innocent, and yet she knew him differently. Or did she?

This creature was a complete enigma. He had given everything to her without a moments notice, and could switch from a loyal and faithful servant to an out of control whirlwind of blood and organs in less than a heartbeat. Maybe this new transformation would calm him down? Vetis closed her eyes. She was supposed to be the mistress. The all-powerful Demon of Corruption. Yet she knew very little about her new slave...or was he more like a pet? Vetis realised she had just as many questions about him as he did about...everything really. There would be plenty of time to learn everything about him on their journey. This world was large after all, and seeing if it was really worth the endless wars would certainly be interesting to say the least. The only problem was this "winter" season seemed to be lasting an awfully long time. She didn't want to see the world locked in ice and death; she wanted to see the world in all its glory. She reached up a hand and touched his face. There was a dim glow.

"Ah..." she said with a smile.

Alastor was walking down a path. It was kind of odd really. Clearly he was dreaming again, because if he wasn't, then the cathedral had just been painted black. The last time he was inside his own head, everything had been in a state of turmoil. Now everything was calm. It looked like the...ground...around the path was covered in smooth black scales. Alastor placed a hand on the ground. It felt warm, like it was alive. He seemed to be a normal human here. He headed down the path until he reached a familiar clearing. This time the door was gone. In its place was a huge black dragon, lying in the middle of the clearing. As he approached, one of its eyes opened, and fixed Alastor with its yellow eye.

"And you are?" Alastor asked.

"I'm your inner beast." The dragon replied. "All humans have one."

"So why are you here?"

"Because you woke me up! I was released from the confines of your soul when you renounced your humanity."

"Is that why I've become a scaly Satyr, with the ability to turn into an anthropomorphic dragon?"

"I know as much as you know, I am you after all."

"Then why do you refer to yourself as a separate entity?"

"You imagined it would be easier to talk like this, so here we are."

"Huh...So now you're free does that mean you'll be hanging around here in my subconscious?"

"Oh no. I'm going to become a constant part of your life. I'll be in your conscious, unconscious, and subconscious mind, all of the time."

"I...see...I wonder how you'll manifest?"

"Oh I suspect your behaviour will change. You'll be more instinctual, more given over to your desires and emotions. That shouldn't affect your intelligence or anything though."

"Wait, if I've given up everything to Ve...Mistress, including my free will, how are we even having this conversation?"

"All that giving up your free will means is that you will obey and believe anything mistress tells you."

"I have a very strange imagination."

"Hey, I'm just a part of your psyche. You're the one talking to yourself."

"True. So how do we become one?"

The dragon stood up.

"We already are." He said, and picked Alastor up in his jaws, and swallowed him.

Alastor awoke. He was still in the cathedral. Vetis was lying next to him, fast asleep. The early morning sun came streaming through the high vaulted windows of the cathedral. He could hear birdsong...rather clearly actually. He took a deep breath, and a whole spectrum of smells hit is nose. He was nearly overwhelmed. Is senses must have been heightened as well as his physique. He sat up. He recognised the smell in the air. It was a smell he was sure wouldn't be around for another three months at least. He got to his digitigrade feet and padded over to the main doors. He placed his hands against the wood and pushed. There was the sound of snapping wood and twisting metal, and the barricaded doors flew open. Bright spring sunlight flooded into the cathedral. Alastor blinked, eyes adjusting to the bright light. He stared out of the church. The snow was gone. Instead there was green grass, growing unchecked in the grounds around the cathedral.

Trees were blooming and vivid green. The paths and pavements were revealed, covered in cracks and small seedlings. Abandoned vehicles had emerged from their icy tombs, revealing just how chaotic the apocalypse had been. There were broken and burned out cars everywhere, amongst the slowly rusting remains of abandoned military vehicles. RAF aircraft were also dotted about the place; just how the airforce had been brought to its knees was anyone's guess. Alastor stepped outside and felt the warm spring sun on his skin and scales. The world seemed so different now. The sounds, the smells, and the sights...everything he had taken for granted before. He suddenly felt the urge to climb. He didn't know where it came from, but before he could even think about it, he was leaping up the side of the cathedral. His new body ate up the side of the cathedral, and he was at the top of one of the bell towers in a matter of moments. He looked out across the city, towards the harbour. The wreck of a battleship floated in the river Avon.

"Yeeaah...a boat would be perfect!" he said aloud, grinning widely. He didn't know why it was suddenly spring, but he didn't care. He was being overwhelmed with sensations he had never felt before. This must be what it felt like to be an animal, to be a predator. He felt no fear, no trepidation, he was at the apex of the food chain, and everything else was below him. He looked down at the ground far below, and leapt from the top of the tower. He dropped fast like a cannonball, but hit the ground with barely a sound, on all fours. He found it rather agreeable to move around on all fours. He bounded across the lawn next to the cathedral, weaving his way through the long grass. He leapt up, shooting high into the air.

Far higher than any actual animal could go. He arced gracefully in the air, landed, rolling upright onto two feet. His tail swished the long grass and he looked around. He could hear the sounds of animals in the grass around him. He could smell wild flowers, blossoms and...He growled. A low threatening growl that revealed a number of sharp, alligator like teeth. How could he have forgotten? It was a zombie apocalypse that had ravaged the Earth. He had been so distracted with angels and demons, he had completely forgotten about the shambling corpses. He could see them now, wondering aimlessly around in the streets. Dead meat thawed out from the winter. Alastor couldn't think how they were still around. Logically speaking, after six years, they should all be skeletons by now. But they weren't. And this was fine by Alastor. He ran over to the nearest one that had just started to head towards him. It hissed, and reached out its arms, dead fingers trying to grab at him. He snarled and hit it so hard in the chest, it literally exploded. Suddenly, there were zombies coming from everywhere, drawn by the noise and the scent of a living creature.

Alastor felt instincts rising to the surface, so he sat back and let them take control. These creatures were the enemy invading the territory of his mistress. They must be annihilated. He took a deep breath, his cheeks bulged, and a jet of searing crimson fire issued from his mouth. The flames were so hot they turned the zombies into charred and blackened heaps of bones almost instantly. The asphalt on the road had liquefied and was bubbling furiously. The bones began to sink into the molten ooze. Alastor raised a hand, and then clenched it into a fist.

The flames extinguished instantly. He grunted, and headed back to the cathedral. That had been...satisfying. Of course there would be more around, but that was for another time. There were five billion of them just about. He wouldn't run out any time soon. As he arrived back at the Cathedral, Vetis walked out. She was just wearing the coat she had chosen and nothing else. He trotted up to her and made an odd hissing purring noise. She looked at him.

"You know, if I wanted just another beast, I would have found one." She said to him.

Alastor stood up. He blinked. His mind was suddenly crystal clear. It was like he hadn't even noticed how clouded with instinct and animalistic thoughts his head was until they were gone.

"Apologies, mistress." He said with a bow.

Vetis was looking him up and down.

"Is there something wrong mistress? Does my new body displease you?"

"You've grown. You're at least a foot taller than you were when we first met."

Alastor looked down at himself.

"Am I? I did not realise it. I can crouch if you feel upset about it."

"Alastor."

Alastor felt genuinely shocked. She had actually referred to him by name? Okay, so they had known each other for barely three days (actually they had known each other for months if the weather was anything to go by).

"Yes mistress?"

"The reason I chose you was because you were different from all the other sheep I've had following me. When I looked into mind the first time we met, I saw a deeply intelligent, logical, empirical, sarcastic, cynical, mildly sadistic, perverted individual. Since you became my slave, you have changed into a simpering welp with a powerful body. I do not want that. I want you to retain your personality, not change it because you think you must. Yes, you are my slave, and you will forever be my slave, but I want someone who will not just serve me, but accompany me. If you are going to be too pathetic to do that, then-"

She was cut off when Alastor grabbed her by the neck, and slammed her bodily into the wall of the cathedral. The old stonework cracked under the force of the blow. Vetis found herself with a surprisingly hard, black scaly forearm pressed against her neck. She was looked into the brilliant yellow eyes of Alastor, and saw a fire burning there she hadn't seen before. His human lip was curled in a snarl, revealing not very human teeth.

"Don't ever...call me pathetic." He growled into her ear, before dropping her.

Vetis pulled herself to her feet, clutching her neck.

"How dare you!" she hissed

"You wanted me back! You wanted the real me, so you got it."

"You attacked me!"

"Actually, mistress... I saved your life."

Vetis stopped. Alastor was bleeding from just above his heart. He reached over his shoulder and winced. There was a sickening squelching noise, and an arrowhead came out through his human chest. He grabbed the head of the arrow, and his hand started to smoke. He roared and pulled the arrow out through his chest. The arrow was long and black with a wickedly barbed head.

"I apologise mistress. I had to pretend I hadn't noticed the assassin. Forgive me for hurting you."

Vetis stood up, walked over to Alastor, and struck him in the arrow wound. Alastor roared again and clutched his shoulder.

"That was for striking me." She said.

"T-thank you, mistress." Alastor gasped. The wound had already begun to close.

"Now then. You will always show me respect, but I like your personality. I want you to keep it."

"Yes mistress."

"Now then. This arrow isn't an angelic weapon. This is Demonic. Is the assassin still in the area?"

Alastor raised his head and sniffed the air.

"No mistress. He covered his scent as well."

"It seems the council has decided to do away with me after all?"

"The...Council, mistress?"

"Oh don't worry about it."

"Oh sure, because you know, taking an arrow is just one of those things you do..."

Alastor trailed off. Vetis was giving him a look that made the back of his eyes hurt.

"Too sarcastic?"

"Yes."

"I still need to get a hang of our repartee."

"Indeed you do. Come on then, I want to see the rest of this country before the spring is over."

"How is it spring, exactly?"

"Oh, I put the cathedral in a time lock for a couple of months. If I wanted to see dead trees and snow, I'd pay a visit to Jotunheim."

"That's a real place?"

"Ohh...you have so much to learn about the world you thought you knew. Now come, my draconic Satyr. We have a world to explore."

Persephone awoke slowly. Sunlight was streaming through the window. She sat up in the old bed and stretched. She was still feeling groggy when she got to her feet and wondered over to the window. She flung it open and relished the warm spring sunshine. She had been down on earth for months now. It had been going well so far. People had begun to flock to her, seeking refuge and shelter. Persephone had made her base the City of Exeter, the county town of Devonshire. It was a beautiful city, and it had a glorious cathedral. This was where she was currently living, along with a large number of other people. They had insisted she have her own room. Persephone smiled to herself and went and sat on the bed. She could here the sounds of laughter and singing coming through the open window. She sighed. These people had been living in terror for six years. Literally waiting for a violent death to come and take them. The first people she had found were all but silent.

Their eyes were heavy with grief and sadness. They jumped at everything, preparing for the worst. But now things were different. Word was spreading of her new, safe community. People were arriving in a steady stream, not believing their eyes at what they saw. The city of Exeter had been completely cleared of the undead. Persephone had seen to that personally. People had begun to move back in to the area around the Cathedral. They had begun erecting a protective wall around the city center, before moving out into the rest of the city. It was a shock to see people come in from outside the city now. Their souls were grey and heavy. Spirits crushed after years of surviving. Now though, now people were changing. Life was still hard, but most people had survived by learning, by becoming fit and hard working, developing the skills required to survive. People were beginning to recover, to heal. But Persephone knew that this could not last. Eventually the walls between the worlds would crumble entirely, and the real War would begin. But Persephone was preparing the humans coming to her. She made no secrets about what she was.

Her wings were unfurled most of the time when she was out of her armour. People had accepted her rather quickly, which came as a surprise. Of course, when Persephone thought about it, seeing a real angel would be no more surprising than seeing a walking corpse. She had decided not to tell them she had fallen though. That might cause more problems than it would solve. She had been elected the de-facto leader of the community, which wasn't all that surprising. What was more surprising was that in the few months they had been settled there, three other fallen angels had made themselves known to her. All were women, and all had been violated by demons, but left alive. They had spent millennia on earth, praying each day for forgiveness. Persephone had confided in them about Uriel's plan, and that they could redeem themselves if they helped her carry it out. They had become her messengers, and her confidants. Persephone herself had been training anyone who wanted to learn how to fight, how to defend themselves.

Persephone got off the bed and got dressed in a vest, pulling on her leather overalls, tying the top around her waist. She pulled on her boots and headed outside. She had been sleeping in the bishop's quarters near the Cathedral itself. There were three other beds here as well, but they were empty currently. They belonged to the three other fallen angels, but they were away at the moment, "spreading the word" as it were. Being able to fly naturally certainly had its advantages. Persephone looked up at the incredibly blue sky. For some reason it reminded her of Alastor. Did he really surrender that easily? She couldn't believe someone could do any of that. She had made up her mind when she returned to Earth to confront him. She would find out why he had given in to Vetis so easily. She would bring him back to the light. She walked out onto the lawns surrounding the Cathedral. There were men training, and being shouted at by a rather wiry looking man.

Apparently he had been a Captain in the Special Boat Service. From what Persephone could tell, the SBS was one of this country's elite fighting forces. A number of soldiers had joined her community; they had been mostly helping other people survive. They had helped defend the fledgling safe zone when other humans had attacked them. Humans who had been driven mad by the constant terror, forming murderous bands of psychos who killed indiscriminately. They had performed with a steely professionalism, every single one of the shots from their battered guns finding a target. Now they were training the men to fight, to help defend the community. Of course, these soldiers had been sceptical of Persephone's fighting ability at first, until she had proceeded to beat all of these soldiers with one hand. After she had revealed herself to be an angel, they had told her they would help protect the people who were coming to her. The angel walked over to the cathedral itself, and entered. She didn't go into the main hall, but instead began climbing one of the bell towers. It was a big tower, and it took her a while to climb. She arrived on the roof and looked out across the city. Exeter was bathed in golden spring sunlight.

The inner wall had been completed a few days ago, and she could see flashes and the sounds of gunshots echoing in from the rest of the city. The clearing parties had already begun driving the undead from the rest of the city. Exeter was a large city though, it would be a while before it was completely safe, and even then that might not happen. It was possible there were just too many of the undead. For now though, Persephone would keep this place safe, until The Archangels plan came to fruition. There was a waft of air behind her. Turning, she saw two of the other angels that had gone to spread the word. One was tall with a powerful build and fiery red hair; the other was smaller, with black hair and a rather large chest. They both looked worried.

"Freya...Ophelia...what's wrong? What happened?" Persephone asked.

The red head, Freya, spoke first.

"Its Titania...we found her up in the Highlands in Scotland." She said

"What happened to her? Is she alright?" Persephone asked

"You'd better come see her. We brought her to the infirmary." Ophelia replied, fiddling with her long black hair nervously.

The infirmary was set up near the cathedral's altar. Surgical equipment had been brought in from the city in order to set it up. It was empty at the moment; injuries were thankfully few and far between. In the bed closest to the Altar lay Titania. She wasn't the tallest of angels or the most physically powerful, but she was a mighty warrior, whom everyone loved and respected. Now she lay in the bed, swathed in bandages, her body drenched in a cold sweat. Her light brown hair plastered to her face. There was a worried looking man standing by the bed. He was washing his hands in a basin, and a number of bloody tools were on a tray beside him. He looked up as the three angels approached.

"I did all I could." He said "But I've never even seen half the injuries she sustained."

"Thank you Doctor. We need to be alone with her now."

"Yes Lady Persephone."

The doctor wheeled away the trolley, which had the surgical tools on it, and vanished behind a curtain. The three angels gathered around the bed.

"Titania...can you hear me?" Persephone asked

"I doubt it. She was unconscious when we brought her in." Freya replied.

"Who...or what could have done this to her?" Ophelia said, looking worriedly down at her comrade.

Titania's breathing was shallow and laboured; she winced occasionally in her fevered sleep.

"I have spotted a number of demons who broke through the veil, but they were weak and feeble, nothing capable of doing this to Titania has come through. We would have felt it if it had." Freya mused.

Persephone placed her hand on Titania's bandaged forehead. She was hot, running a very high fever.

"I don't think we should think about something coming through the veil." She said, looking at the other two, "But something that was already on this side of it."

"You don't mean...The Archdemon...do you?" Ophelia squeaked

"Unfortunately I do." Persephone replied, "She is the only one powerful enough to do something like this. To corrupt her even further."

"Wa...ter..."

The three angels turned. Titania had partially opened her eyes.

"Ophelia! Get some water!" Persephone ordered, kneeling by the bed.

"Right!"

Titania had drunk nearly three litres of water before she was satisfied. She was lying in bed still, but her fever had subsided slightly. The three other fallen angels were now seated around her bed.

"You had us all very worried." Persephone said, holding on to her hand.

"I...I'm not out of the woods yet." Titania said grimly.

"What do you mean, what happened?"

"I was up in Scotland, looking for survivours to bring back here. I was up in the highlands when I saw her. At first I didn't recognise her. Her aura was hidden from me. She was just standing there, at the top of a mountain. It was like she was just enjoying the view. I thought it was just another demon."

"What did you do?"

"I did what I have always done with demons. I attacked. I couldn't even get close." Titania slowly pushed herself up in the bed, Freya placing pillows behind her head and back to give her support.

"What happened?"

"I was attacked by a...creature. I have never seen one before. Its upper half was human, save for its forearms, yet from the waist down it was reptilian. Scales as black as the abyss and as hard as steel. It had eyes like a serpent, and teeth like a monster. It had this mane of hair the colour of blood, and breathed crimson flames so hot they destroyed everything they touched."

"I have never heard of such a thing." Freya said, "The closest to the physical description would be a Greek Satyr, but they are usually half man half goat and they certainly cannot breath fire."

"I have no idea what this creature was, but it was fast and strong. The Archdemon watched our fight...if you could call it a fight. The damnable thing was toying with me. Its claws tore through my armour like it was so much dry paper. But the Archdemon didn't let it kill me...she told it to...to...violate me..." tears began rolling down the angels face "And it did...it was like a beast...it...it...when it was over, the Archdemon gave me this..." Titania reached up to her bandages and pulled them down around her chest. Burnt into her skin on her chest was an inverted pentagram.

"She marked me...soon...soon I will become one of them!"

Persephone grabbed Titania and hugged her tightly. She couldn't believe that such a proud, noble and powerful warrior had been reduced to this trembling wreck.

"No! No you won't! I won't allow it! We will find a way to stop it. There must be a way to stop it." Persephone said, tears welling up in her own eyes.

"Uhhmm...I think I know a way?" Ophelia said, raising her hand. The other angels looked at her.

"I think to remove a demonic curse, you need the blessing of a saint."

"We don't have any saints here!" Freya said angrily "Besides, we have no way of contacting Heaven!"

"Actually, my Ladies, I think I know where you may be able to find one."

The Doctor had emerged from behind the curtain. He was a man of medium build, who wore a smart, if slightly tatty suit, and a old and worn lab coat.

"Doctor Jamieson?" Persephone said, a quizzical look on her face.

"If I remember correctly, before all this madness happened, the bones of John the Baptist were found in a monastery in Bulgaria. The Monastery itself is on an island in the black sea. If those bones are indeed the bones of said Saint, you could have a chance of curing Lady Titania."

"How would you know of such a thing?" Freya demanded.

"Before the dead started walking, I was a religious man. Do you really think the discovery of the final resting place of the man who baptised Jesus would remain under my radar? They made a big deal out of it you know." The doctor said with a smile.

"Freya, Ophelia..." Persephone began, but Freya and Ophelia where already getting to their feet.

"No. You must stay here and protect these people." Freya said.

"Freya and I will go." Ophelia said with a nervous smile. "Its not such a big deal."

Persephone looked torn. She had intended to go alone, but obviously her friends knew her quite well.

"But you have only just returned! You need time to rest!" she argued.

"If we can stop Titania from becoming one of them, I don't need rest." Freya said firmly.

"Me neither!" Ophelia chimed in.

Persephone looked at Titania, who nodded.

"Go, and may God's blessing be with you." Persephone said with a heavy sigh.

After the other two had gone to prepare for the long journey, Persephone turned to Titania.

"Why were you up in Scotland? I told you to go to the larger cities in the south."

"I...well...I thought more people would have survived in the Highlands. It's isolated up there, and the human population was small before the 'event'. If there were likely to be any more survivours they would have gone up there."

Persephone gave a small smile. Titania had always been fairly logical in her thought process, and it did make sense of course. She wondered why Vetis and the human who blindly followed her had gone to Scotland; maybe there was something up there? Something demonic? The Highlands apparently had a long pagan history, so it wouldn't be surprising.

"Well...you're back, and your injuries have been seen to."

"Not all of them are so easily cured." Titania replied, placing her hand over the mark on her chest.

"Freya and Ophelia will return. I have faith in them, and you should too."

"I know. But the journey will take several months at least. They cannot fly all the way. Even if we retain our wings, the laws that govern this world are strange, I find I cannot fly more than a few tens of miles before I must stop."

"I know, it effects us all." Persephone replied, "The laws of this world are governed by logic and science. We should be thankful our meagre powers work at all."

"I don't see how humans can live in a world like this."

"And yet they do. It is best not to question it, I find."

Titania sunk down in the bed, pulling the covers up around her.

"I feel tired...drained." She said.

Persephone got to her feet.

"Then rest. You won't be going anywhere for a while. Take this chance to recuperate."

"Thank you, Persephone."

Persephone turned and left the cathedral. Titania rolled over in the bed and grinned. Her pupils were slitted and reptilian.

A month later, two figures touched down on the grassy slopes of St Ivan Island off the coast of Bulgaria in the Black Sea. The hot summer sun beamed down upon the countryside, and the sea sparkled blue. The ruins of a church could clearly be seen on the island. Apparently the remains of John the Baptist were found in this church and entombed in a silver sarcophagus on the mainland. Apparently people had recovered the sarcophagus and moved it back to the island. The island showed signs of habitation, with permanent looking wooden buildings constructed around the ancient stone of the church.

Freya and Ophelia walked cautiously towards the small collection of shelters. It seemed like quite a few people had taken refuge on the small island. It was an ideal spot. Protected from the dead by the natural barrier of the sea, yet still within easy reach of the mainland. It was easily defensible too, its gentle slopes leading down to the sea, giving a good all round view. There was a lighthouse on the island with a small building at its base. The two fallen angels entered the settlement. A few fires still smouldered in their pits, but the place seemed deserted.

"I really don't like this." Ophelia said, gripping her spear tightly.

"I know...this place...it was full of humans until recently. I can still smell them."

"This place...it's making me feel...uneasy...this place feels haunted..." Ophelia said in hushed tones, a hint of fear creeping into her voice.

Freya looked at her comrade. Ophelia had always shown strong psychic abilities, the others had learned to trust her intuition on such matters, and if this place was making her scared, then there really was cause to worry.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you." Freya said, drawing her sword from its scabbard slung over her back.

"I think something came here..." Ophelia said, staring at one of the fire pits. "Humans lived here...they worshipped the relics...relics kept in the church...something came looking for them..." Ophelia had begun to sway, leaning on her spear. "Something came...dark and vicious...full of malice and hate...it wanted the relics...wanted them for...something...the people here, they would not surrender them...the darkness...the darkness...swallowed them...tore them apart...made them suffer...made them watch as it killed the children..."

Ophelia's entire body shook, tears running down her face.

"The darkness...it was outraged...it hated them for hiding the bones...I can feel its hatred...it is still here...on the island...the church...it waits in the church! It knows! It knows we're here! Lord help me! It's seen me! It's coming for me! Help me!"

Freya grabbed the smaller angel and slapped her hard across the face. Ophelia gasped and shook her head.

"T-that was awful...I've never...seen anything so terrifying before." She said, panting slightly.

"Does it have the relics? Does it have the remains of John the Baptist?" Freya asked

"No...yes...I don't know...it knows where they are, but I don't think it has them yet."

"Then we have to stop it before it finds them." Freya said, straightening up and looking towards the church ruins. Now even she could feel a black aura emanating from there. The slowly approached the church. Even though it was old and ruined, the stone was still strong and sturdy, the remaining walls thick. They entered into what must have been he main hall, and saw him. The light bent around his body in odd ways, casting evil shifting shadows even in the bright sunlight.

As they got closer, they could feel an intense heat emanating from his skin. Blood red hair flowed down his back like a shimmering waterfall. His torso and upper arms seemed to be human, with pale white skin, yet his forearms and below his waist were covered in black scales, with a distinctly reptilian look to them. He had a long flexible tail that whipped back and forth. He turned his head slightly, and the two fallen angels felt a sense of dread wash over them.

"About time you decided to show up." He said. His voice sounded strange. It was he voice of a human, yet it seemed to resonate somehow.

"Where are the remains?" Freya demanded, readying her sword.

"My mistress has them...in the lighthouse. Along with what's left of the inhabitants of this island."

"You monster!" Ophelia shouted, and lunged forwards with her spear.

"Ophelia wait!"

But it was too late. Alastor whipped around, grabbing a hold of the spear just below the head. He yanked it forwards, causing Ophelia to over balance. His fist caught her in the side of the head, smashing her into the floor. Alastor looked down at the groaning angel, snapping the angelic spear like so much dry kindling. Freya had been taken a-back by the brutality of his counter attack. Normally demons of his apparent power struck with open hands, or from a distance with vicious magical attacks, believing themselves above physical altercations. Freya had fought in plenty of battles against demons to know this rarely changed. This one was different though. This was obviously the one Titania had encountered. With Ophelia down, Freya knew she had to be careful.

"What does your mistress want with the relics?" She asked, circling around the creature.

"Oh please. I'm not going to monologue my mistresses plans to you!" he said with a derisive snort, and lunged forwards. Freya managed to parry his first blow, which struck her sword with such force it badly jarred her arm, she felt her fingers become weak, but she gritted her teeth and kept a hold of her sword. He was fast and strong, a very dangerous combination. Freya jumped back, she needed space. The creature seemed intelligent, and favoured brawling. Freya readied her blade as he circled her. His yellow eyes seemed to shine with a hellish light. A long thick tongue emerged from his mouth as he licked his lips.

"I can see it in you. The corruption." He said

Freya struck, her blade narrowly missing the creatures face, smashing the ground where he had been. The blade itself hadn't actually touched the floor; it was merely the force of the blow that had done the damage.

"You were raped by a demon...but you enjoyed it...that's why you fell from grace." He hissed. His foot stuck Freya in the side so fast she didn't see it coming. She heard a crack as her armour absorbed the worst of the blow, but she was still knocked down. She rolled in the dust and came upright. It felt like she had cracked ribs. She cautiously felt her armour where the blow had landed without taking her eyes off him. Normally when plate armour suffered blunt force trauma it buckled and bent. Her armour had actually cracked and split slightly under the force of his kick. She winced as she shifted her weight.

"See...you already have demonic potential inside you. Secretly you want what we have. Freedom from your pesky rules and regulations. Just accept the beast inside you."

"Is that what you did?" Freya asked. If this creature wanted to talk and let Freya get her breath back, then so be it.

"Did you sell your soul and humanity to become what you are? Some twisted creature that isn't demonic or angelic?"

"Far from it. I gave all those things away willingly. I became what I am because I wanted it. I worship my mistress. Nothing can change that."

"Then you are a fool. I don't see why Persephone wants to try and save you."

"Persephone? I shouldn't worry about her. My little Titania will take care of her...or die trying at least."

"Titania...what did you do to her! The corruption should not transform her fully until the first full moon of winter!"

The creature looked slightly confused

"What horseshit is this you're spouting? She'll turn when she wants to!"

"Wha-"

Alastor hit Freya so hard and fast, the angel was flung through the air, crashing into the hard stone of the ruins. She fell to the ground in a shower of dust and stone flakes. He didn't relent however. He leapt into the air and landed on her. Freya wheezed, blood spraying from her mouth.

The talons on his feet dug in to his armour, splitting the metal with a loud screech. There was the sound of thick leather straps snapping as he tore away her breastplate. He stepped off her and grabbed her by the throat. A knife shot up from her side, but he simply raised a hand. The knife blade screeched against his diamond hard scales, sending up sparks. He caught her hand, twisting her wrist so she dropped the blade. He slammed her up against a wall his talons drawing blue pinpricks of blood from her neck. The dust slowly settled. Freya was dangling from Alastor's grip, her feet a good few inches off the ground.

"I like big strong women." He said with a wicked grin. "But At the moment I'm not interested in you." He let her go, but no sooner had her feet touched the ground, he struck her very hard four times in the chest and stomach. She staggered forwards. His tail whipped up and caught her under the chin with a loud crack, like a bullwhip. It was like being hit with a bullet. The force of the blow spun Freya over onto her back. Her blue blood oozed onto the ground from the cut on her chin.

She coughed up more blood. Her body felt weak, she realised there was nothing she could do against this creature. He walked over to her and grabbed her by the hair. He dragged her through the dust and hurled her against a wall. Metal strips rose from the dirt and bound themselves to her wrists and ankles, raising her off the floor and pinning her up in the air against a wall. The creature snapped his fingers, and the shackles spread her arms and legs out so she was spread-eagled, yet crucified to the wall. Freya realised he had been toying with her in a savage and cruel manner, worse than that of a cat with a mouse. He walked over to where Ophelia lay and picked her up. She groaned and opened her eyes.

"My...you are a pretty one." Alastor hissed.

"N-no...don't touch me!" Ophelia whimpered

"Oh that won't do." Alastor said. Dragging the small angel over to a small patch of grass, he threw her down, pinning her arms above her head with on hand. He took her by the chin, his long scaly fingers caressing her face.

"I can see it inside you. You secretly yearn for my touch. Struggle all you want, but the body will always over come the mind."

"No! Get off me! Don't touch me!" Ophelia screamed, struggling against his iron grip.

"Leave her alone!" Freya shouted. There was a rush of air, and Freya felt like she'd just been hit with a sledgehammer, yet nothing had hit her. She gasped and coughed, and Alastor lowered his hand.

"Telekinesis is a remarkable thing." He said, "As my mistresses power increases, so does mine. But you don't give a shit about that."

Using his free hand, Alastor tore off Ophelia's armour and tossed it aside. His sharp talons made short work of the rest of her clothing. Soon she was lying under him, her smooth pale skin exposed to the bright sun. Alastor lowered his head and licked her from her belly button up to her neck, leaving a long thick trail of sticky saliva. Ophelia screwed her eyes shut and shivered.

"Oh...you love it really."

With that, his long tongue slipped into her mouth. Their lips met, and Ophelia's eyes opened wide. Her screams were muffled by the kiss. Alastor squeezed one of her bare breasts, tweaking her nipples. The tip of his tail wound its way up her inner thigh. Ophelia squirmed and writhed as she felt its tip part the lips of her vagina, and slip slowly inside. She could feel it entering her, feel it becoming thicker, spreading her apart more. She could feel every scale and bump, and it felt so good. Alastor broke the kiss, and thick strands of saliva ran down Ophelia's mouth. She gasped out as Alastor let his tongue bath her breasts.

"Ophelia! Don't give in!" Freya shouted, straining against her bonds.

Ophelia moaned as Alastor withdrew his tail from her. He sucked her sweet fluids off the end and grinned. He pressed his body against hers, and she squirmed under him as his member entered her. Her body shuddered as the thick length began moving insider her. She gasped and writhed. She had not felt like this since the demon had raped her all those millennia ago. She felt his hot breath on her neck as he gently bit her. Her sex juices ran down her thighs and dripped onto the grass.

"I...AH!...I want more!" she moaned.

"Then release you're inner beast!" Alastor growled into her ear as he fucked her.

Ophelia felt Alastor's body suddenly tense and then she felt his hot seed filling her. It was too much. Her own orgasm shook her body; she thrashed under her demonic lover. Arching her back, she screamed with pleasure. When it was over, she flopped down onto the grass. Her body was covered in sweat, her legs dripping with juice. Alastor pulled out with a wet squelch. His member was dripping with her juice and his own cum. It was long and black, and seemed to emerge from a reptilian slit in his crotch.

Ophelia gasped suddenly, her body spasmed. Her skin seemed to be changing colour. Suddenly silky black and white fur erupted from her body, covering her instantly. Her face seemed to stretch and elongate, becoming canine. A tail grew out from her spine, and a loud howl escaped her new lips. Ophelia dropped to her hands and knees, panting.

"Huh. A Border collie. Hardly the most demonic animal to anthropomorphise but I'm not complaining."

Ophelia looked up. Her eyes were dark orange, and her pupils were slitted like a reptile.

"Apparently demons have the same kinds of eyes." Alastor mused.

"W-why do...Why do I feel so good?" Ophelia asked, looking at her hands, and down at her new body.

"You've unleashed the beast. You are a demon, free from Heaven's will, and able to do what you like." Alastor replied.

"I...I want to fuck her!" Ophelia said, grinning wickedly, pointing at Freya.

"No! I will not become like you!" Freya yelled, struggling against her bonds.

"But this is perfect!" Alastor said, "Your friend will rape you and I just know you'll enjoy it eventually."

The metal bonds fell away from Freya's wrists and ankles and she dropped to the floor. Ophelia pounced on her, pinning her to the floor. Freya was shocked at how much stronger Ophelia was. As an angel she had always been the weakest of their group, but now she was over powering Freya easily.

Alastor knelt down by her head and looked at her with a smug look.

"Your little sisterhood will crumble as you succumb to your desires." He said, "I really want to see Persephone again, but Mistress has plans that need fulfilling first, and I really must do those first."

Freya gasped as Ophelia's canine tongue delved into her vagina. The angel squirmed, but Ophelia wouldn't budge.

"Have fun you two. Mistress is calling me."

Alastor stood up and began walking towards the lighthouse. It was a classic lighthouse, painted with wide red and white stripes. The room that housed the light at the top looked oddly dark, the usually clear windows were opaque. Alastor knew why of course. He had done it after all. Pushing open the door at the base of the Lighthouse he was greeted by an almost overpowering scent of blood and incense. He closed the door behind him and was plunged into darkness. He blinked, his eyes rapidly growing accustomed to the almost pitch black interior. He began to ascend the long spiral staircase up to the lantern room, his draconic feet making met splashing sounds on the stone steps. The reason for the splashing was because the inside of the lighthouse was covered in blood.

Bodies had been nailed to the walls and ceilings, arteries and veins sliced open with unerring accuracy. Blood dripped from everywhere, falling onto Alastor. The still warm liquid splashed down onto his naked form. Raising a hand, he caught some of the blood on his fingers and slowly licked it off, the metallic tang was infused with a sense of power, it was like liquid electricity. Alastor mused to himself about demonic rituals. They always seemed to involve large quantities of blood and sex, which Alastor had no problem with. Mistress said it was necessary, so of course it was. He arrived at the top of the lighthouse. There was a trap door above him that led into the lantern room. He pushed it open and entered the room. The lantern was gone, and the room had its windows painted over in blood, making the sunlight streaming through them take on an evil red colour.

The mercury from the lanterns float bowl had been used to draw a large magical circle on the floor. The liquid metal glowed in the red light. Vetis was kneeling in the middle of the circle. Ancient looking bones had been placed at the four Cardinal points. It seemed white vapours were emanating from the bones forming a fog around the circle. Vetis was leaning over something. Suddenly there was the sound of splitting skin and the flow of blood. Alastor slowly moved around the circle. Vetis' mouth was latched around the throat of a young girl. The human's eyes were glazed as the life slowly drained out of her. Her skin became pale as the blood left it. Once the child was completely drained, Vetis let go, licking her bloody lips. She got to her feet, letting the child's body slump to the floor, joining a small pile of other children. The vapour filling the room suddenly swirled and began rushing towards Vetis. She inhaled deeply, sucking the mist in through her nose and mouth. Once all the mist was gone, she opened her eyes and sighed.

"The ritual is complete." She said with satisfaction. "I am...restored."

Alastor suddenly felt weak. He dropped to his knees and gasped. Vetis laughed, and as swiftly as it had come, the weakness subsided.

"My full powers have returned. It seems I really do own you. You are mine." She said.

"Y-yes mistress. I always have been." Alastor said, panting slightly. The sudden weakness had come as a shock, yet he felt a distinct pleasure at having so little control over his own being. The mercury on the floor rose up, and began to spin around the two of them. The droplets of the dense metal suddenly exploded outwards, ripping open the top of the lighthouse. The bright golden sunlight fell on the Archdemon and her slave as they stood on the platform that remained of the lantern room.

"This is a beautiful part of the world." Vetis remarked, looking out over the Bulgarian landscape

"This is the first time I have been here." Alastor replied, head bowed.

"Hmmm...Tell me, have you noticed it yet?" Vetis asked, looking over her shoulder at Alastor.

"Yes Mistress. When I entered the Lighthouse in fact."

"I think you and your two little pets can deal with them."

"My pets mistress? I corrupted them for you."

"You are all I really require, my dear. But you have such a remarkable mind, I'm giving them to you to see what you do with them."

"As you wish." Alastor said with a deep bow, which he turned into an impossibly high jump. He sailed over the edge of the Lighthouse and landed with a thud on the hard dry ground. There were suddenly figures all around him. They were tall and thin, swathed in bandages. Tufts of red fur stuck out from gaps in the cloth, and they were armed with long metal spikes attached to each arm.

"I guess you must be the assassins that have been following us for months now." Alastor said. One of the assassins stepped forwards.

"Our contract is not with you. It is with the one you serve." It said. Its voice was raspy and harsh sounding.

"You stink. All of you." Alastor said, wrinkling his nose. "And if you are after my mistress, then I am definitely in your contract."

"Very well. We will remove you as well."

Alastor grinned. The Assassin looked shocked a moment before it exploded.

"As mistress grows in power...I grow in power." He hissed, eyes growing dark.

The assassins attacked. There were more of them than Alastor had first realised. Obviously a large number had remained hidden. It was clear they were professionals; they had researched their target well. Of course numbers wouldn't help against an Archdemon, so they must have something else planned. This plan, Alastor guessed, would only be effective if they could actually get to mistress...that he was hardly going to let happen. He jumped to the side, letting the iron spikes hit the ground where he had been moments before. These guys were fast, but not strong. Against a fast and strong opponent, they were outmatched. Alastor decided there was no point in using finesse, and let himself go.

The black aura that exploded from him turned the ground grey and dead. Grass and plants withered and died. Alastor's face became bestial and savage, his fangs and teeth becoming more pronounced. He let out an ear splitting roar, talons bared. The ground ruptured around him as he launched himself forwards. He crashed into the assassins like a wrecking ball, smashing their slender bodies apart. His talons ripped through flesh, black ichor splashing against the rocks as he dismembered his attackers. Crimson flames issued from his mouth, scorching the earth and burning anything caught in them to a charred mass of sooty carbon. He breathed the flames in a lethal arc that caused the assassins to scatter.

He raised his hands, and several of the demons seemed to crumple as if great pressure had suddenly been applied to them. As Alastor tore apart the assailants, he became more and more bestial. The malice that flowed out of his soul was almost a tangible force, causing the assassins to waver. The dry ground was very quickly soaked with their black blood, gore made footing treacherous and slippery. Realising they were fighting a losing battle, the assassins began to retreat, leaving the fight a few at a time, covering each other's escape.

The problem was that there was no escape. As the assassins fled the scene of the massacre, they ran into to new obstacles. When the sounds of further violence had died away, Vetis slowly descended the lighthouse. She arrived at the bottom. Alastor was kneeling before her, as was Ophelia and Freya. Freya had become a mighty white wolf, muscles rippling under her coarse white fur. The two former angels had black blood dripping from their fangs and claws. Vetis walked past Alastor, and stroked his head. He stood up and fell into step behind her. The Archdemon stopped before the two new canid demons.

"What does it feel like to be truly free?" She asked.

"Like a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders." Ophelia said, looking up. "Before I believed in Heaven's word. That the righteous would prevail of the wicked, godless denizens of the underworld."

"But we see now what lies they spoke." Freya said, also looking up, emerald green eyes shining, "Before I was sure of my faith and my convictions. I hated seeing my sister violated in such a way, but when it happened to me...I enjoyed it. I wanted more. I could feel the power of my desires welling up inside me."

"As did I." Ophelia continued, "We were always told that power was undesirable, that it corrupted the soul, but now it is clear that power is the only thing that matters in this world. It is the reason the wars with demo...our kind go on for so long."

"Good answers both of you. I feel you could probably continue in this vein if I allowed it. But let me ask you something now. What will you do? You are both clearly powerful demons now you are unrestrained by your former ties with Heaven. Will you act upon your desires?"

Freya and Ophelia looked at each other.

"I have always found thrill in the hunt, and the slaughter of my enemies." Freya said, "I had hated you and those that followed you, but now I feel...need...I want to follow you on whatever quest you embark upon."

"I always trained to keep my psychic abilities under control, kept them weak." Ophelia said, "But now I am free from this, I can let them grow in power. I can do what I will...but...Alastor? Yes...Alastor freed me from my chains, so I wish to follow him."

Vetis laughed. The sound made Alastor shudder with pleasure. It seemed he was connected with his mistress in more ways than one.

"Very well." She said. "You shall follow us. Alastor will be your master, but remember, he is MY slave. He will only do as I command."

"Yes my Lady." Freya said with a bow.

"Of course, your ladyship." Ophelia replied.

"What are your plans now, mistress?" Alastor asked.

"Thos assassins. They are some of Hell's best. They only work for the aristocracy. This means one of the dukes of hell wants me dead."

"I will give my life for you mistress." Alastor said.

"Good. Then you and I are going to pay a visit to my home."

"What of us, your Ladyship?"

"Alastor? What do you propose you do with your two rather delicious new servants?"

Alastor thought for a moment, then smiled.

"Find more fallen angels. Change them as you have been. Find humans, corrupt them, rape them, and kill them. Make them believe in us and fear us. Make them join us. Promise them power and defile their souls. Build an army to rival the one Heaven is attempting to create on this world."

The two canines nodded, stood, and left. When they were gone, Vetis grabbed her slave, and forced him to the ground. She straddled him and bit his neck. Alastor gasped and moaned as her fangs sunk into his flesh.

"Fuck! You make me so wet when you're authorative!" Vetis said, licking the blood off her lips.

"S-so...what do you plan...Mistreaaaa!"

Vetis slid her tail further into Alastor's tailhole, raking her talons down his chest, drawing blood.

"First I'm going to fuck you stupid, and then...then we're going to Hell."