Chapter One (Part Three - Of Battles and Boxes)

There was evidence of many thoughts playing across the furrowed face of Belial.  His eyes swam with horror and determination, a blend that had often scared Persephone over the time she had known him.  The Demon had not changed much.  He was still handsome and still deeper than she could fathom, no mere stone thrown into the pool of Belial's personality could ever hope to reach the bottom before being lost amongst the murky water surrounding him.  Persephone did the only natural thing.  She walked to her stereo and put on a CD that reminded her of times in his arms.

What was obvious to Belial was the fact that he had delivered his intentions directly into the hands of Jehovah.  Judging by the ever spiralling tale of Persephone, Jehovah would know where Belial was, and thus Gabriel wouldn't be far behind.  A sickening sensation vaulted within his stomach as he thought of the jeopardy he had perhaps put the remainder of the condemned fallen in.  Especially Abaddon who was probably in the grating clutches of the entire Angelic army attempting to compelte his objective.  INcredulity seeped through his macabre thoughts, mostly at the fact that he ciould have been so stupid, but partly that the Christian hand had reached so far through the cosmos.

'Tell me all the things you would change...'

The music caught Emannuelle by surprise.  A relatively normal sound breaking up the surreality of the moment.  The sadness and reason behind the music struck her as beautiful and distracting at the same time.

'Your words devour my heart and put me to shame...'

Greaves looked up at Persephone momentarily and then his head went back to the spinning process of thinking again.  It seemed that their position was more tenuous than he had desired.  He felt to blame for leading them here without Belial's counsel in the first place.  He felt guilty for betraying his order.  He felt guilty for everything.  At such a time a man with all the answers should be able to speak, but nothing in his studies had taught him anything about conspiracy and lies.

'Old enough to know who you are, wise enough to carry the scars without any blame.'

The music suddenly gave Belial balance.  He picked up his phone and called the last number in his directory.

The End

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