Chapter Thirty-Six: Midnight Walk
I rand down the stairs out of the apartment two at a time, none of the guys decided to follow me and when I hit the street, I just picked a direction at random and started walking mindlessly wandering, chewing my nails as I did.
I could feel my blood boiling, almost literally, from all the accumulated frustration. My other hand was clenched tightly into a fist. I passed by a building and I smashed my fist right into the brick wall, making small shards of material fall down.
"It seems you've been quite angered, even betrayed perhaps." Someone said, from behind me. "Something quite typical when dealing with angels."
I turned around and faced the man. He was standing there, wearing a black blazer over a casually buttoned white shirt. He had short messy black hair that matched his uniformly black eyes, rather similar to mine, minus the white... He had a cigarette in his mouth that burned lightly. He was standing there non-threateningly, hands in his pocket.
"Who are you?" I snarled, raising my hand in a defensive position. Even from several meters away, I could feel the demonic aura he projected, not trying to hide it in the slightest.
"Who is but the form following the function of what. What I am is a friend, I'll admit, an unlikely one, but an ally nonetheless."
"You think I'm going to believe one of you after this morning?" I snarled before lunging at him like an animal, swiping my hands like claws, feeling the adrenaline pumping through me, giving me a slight feeling of satisfaction.
Much to my surprise, he didn't fight back or even dodge. Instead he lifted one of his hand, taking it from out of his pocket and using only one of his finger, he caught my hand, stopping me dead and screwing off my balance.
"I should be quite insulted from this, girl. But I understand your reaction, you have had a bad times with some of my ilks." He said, nonchalantly.
"What are you?" I asked, going back a few steps, leaving a safe distance between the two of us. "Don't feed me that friend bullcrap. You aren't a spawn, and you aren't like the other demons I've met..."
"And you are completely right, I am not a daimon or an ephebos like those you've met. I am older, very much so, you could call me an archon. In english, the word means ruler, or king."
I made a mental note, of it. "What do you want with me?"
"To help. That is what a friend do after all."
"Why do you want to help me, if you're one of the demon kings?"
Now, you shouldn't make broad generalizations about what you know very little about. Your lover told you, the Ophanim have made deals with daimons to get rid of you haven't they? You see, this wasn't always the case.
When tellus fractured itself into two parts; Gehenna and Elysium, we had our own belief of what an afterlife should have been, the Malakim believed in eternal rest and peace while we preferred a world of endless pleasures without limits nor rules. But you see with times most of us grew complacent and we lost our ways, our world devolving into nothing but petty savages bent on temporary gratification without any vision for anything greater. Our world became what it is, nothing but decay and destruction, a wasteland filled with nothing but shallow and empty dreams.
The Ophanim on the other hand fell back on control, bureaucracy to keep their little utopia safe and quite frankly boring. But then you appeared, a bridge between both kinds, one that threatens their order and risk ruining everything."
"And where do you stand in all of this?"
"I was a friend, almost a brother to the one who sired you, girl. I was with him when Babylon and Sumer were first erected, I was there at his side when goat herders in the desert received revelation from what they believed was god. We saw the first stone of Rome but put down as well as it's fall. Your father wasn't just any demon little one, he was Rex Mundi, even the mighty archons respected him... But then, he conceived you and vanished, never coming back to our world. The fruit of the union of one of the rulers of Gehenna and a powerful sybil from Elysium."
"Wait... You knew my father? What about my mother, who was she?"
"I don't know, ask that angel who guide your lover, from what I know, he knew her... Intimately. " He said, shrugging. "But there's something more important right now. Earlier this night, a certain magician you are aware of performed a spell to bind an archon to this world. Needless to say, you won't stand a chance against it... Without help that is."
He took the second hand out of his blazer's pocket and laid both of them flat, palms facing skyward. There was a glow in his eyes and a sword formed there, which he handed to me.
"Just a sword, we have many of those..."
"Not just any sword. This was the sword that brought the greatest empire in history to it's knee, it was wielded by the Flagelum Dei, the scourge of god, Attila the Hun. The malakim themselves forged the blade so it could bring Rome, so dear to us Daimons, down."
"You're serious?" I asked, hesitantly taking the blade. It quietly hummed in my palm.
"Very few things can kill one of the archons, certainly not anything humans can forge. Now, it's yours, I'm sure your father would have wanted it that way. He sacrificed everything he had so you could exist."
He started to walk away but I hailed him. "Wait, you haven't told me your name..."
"I was once given the name of Choronzon, but I've stopped being him when I left Gehenna. Now I'm just Dylan Zsolt..."