Tim Marquitz - Betrayal

As I had every evening since I’d returned to Heaven, I knelt outside the throne room of God and prayed for his return.

And as it had been every other night, my prayers went unanswered.

My knees were stiff from kneeling upon the cold tiles, so I rose to my feet with an empty sigh, hearing others of my brethren doing the same around me. The flickers of God’s essence, which clung to the Kingdom, were more a vexation tonight than they’d ever been. Too great a presence to be completely scoured away, what remained was but the slightest hint of a scent, the flutter of a dying breath; just enough to remind me of what we’d lost. Tonight it seemed a glimmer more than usual, but it was no comfort.

God was gone, and we were still alone.

I glanced about the hall, meeting the eyes of my brethren in turn. Sorrow filled many of them, cold resolution in the rest. Several of the retiring angels nodded and waved in my direction as they made their way from the temple. A few simply turned and left without acknowledgement.

It was a frustration I’d largely learned to live with.

Though I’d cast aside my demonic heritage, wholly embracing the light of the Lord, there were still those who felt I was little better than the Fallen and should be cast out. Their antipathy had been held in check when God sat upon the Throne, but His disappearance was a spur to many who believed the influence of Lucifer, and those of his line, had been the cause of God’s departure. No longer leashed to the Father’s disapproval, their anger had slithered through the cracks and been set loose.

The return of Duke Forcalor had done nothing to lessen the bitterness of their beliefs, however unfounded. Granted free will, they would think as they would, and nothing but time or the return of God could change that.

I strolled the along the courtyard path on my way home, the clinging memories of the Father heavy on my mind. I had known him so short a time, but his absolute acceptance of my devotion and place in Heaven had been the greatest moment in my existence. Born in Hell, I did not fit amongst the demons, or even the Nephilim who walked the Earth, the call of the Choir ringing loudest in my breast since the moment of my birth. I knew where I belonged.

He had seen that in me, and had rewarded my obeisance, but now He was gone. I wished only to prove my dedication once more and bring back the Heaven I’d known under His guidance.

It seemed a dream. Wishing to wrap myself inside its warm contentedness, I returned home. One last prayer to the void as I crawled beneath the covers of my bed, I lay my head to rest.

Sleep was slow to come.

The whisper of steel pulled me from my dreams.

Honed by the sharpened edge of battle, I gave no thought to anything save survival. I rolled from the bed and lashed out as I dove to claim my blade. My shin collided with rigid muscle, and I heard the whoosh of lost breath as I leaped past my unknown assailant. My fingers settled on the pommel of my sword, and I drew it free, its confident song filling the air.

Everto in hand, I spun about to see the blade of an axe buried in the mattress where my head laid just moments before. Golden hands clasped its leather-wrapped shaft and worked to pull it free as I advanced on instinct. I took only one step before I could take no more. My feet seemed to fill with lead as my sleep-sodden mind processed what my eyes saw. Awareness roared to life.

This was no demon that stood before me, no zealot of the dark arts come to kill me in my slumber, but one of my own kind; an angel, one I’d known my entire life.

“Valore?” I could barely bring myself to name him under the weight of what he’d done. He had tried to kill me, here in my home; here in Heaven. For all the whispered complaints and frustrated stares of the Choir, I could never have imagined such a heinous act being committed in the Kingdom. My strength withered at the thought, and Everto drooped at the end of my trembling arm. I could barely feel it in my hand.

Valore pulled the axe free and turned to me with a grin, one so far removed from the murderous act he had just tried to commit as to make me question whether I was yet awake.

“Come now, did you truly think you could betray Gabriel and not believe his retribution would find you?”

A scream erupted outside, its terror setting my pulse to pounding, followed by another, and still another. Though I didn’t recognize the voices, their sounds raw with agony and sick with betrayal, there was no longer any doubt this was just a dream. Death had come to Heaven by the cruelest of means. A cloying numbness seemed to envelop me as I stared at my would-be assassin. A prayer came to mind right after, and I swallowed it back, its taste bitter given the circumstances. There was no Lord to hear, to save His people.

Valore advanced, his axe swaying contemptuously before him. His smile grew sharper. “Give in to the inevitable, Scarlett. You’re no better than your precious duke, just another demon pretending to be one of us. You don’t belong here. You never did.”

His words sunk in like talons, tearing at my heart. I’d served God as loyally and faithfully as any other, and for Valore to claim otherwise was a venomous wound. I felt its blow hit home, his declaration brushing aside all my sacrifices to prove myself to the Choir. Despite all I’d done to earn the respect of my kin, here was the sad truth of it; I was still an outsider, my value tainted by the demonic blood that ran through my veins. I could feel it even now, the sear of it as it flowed through me, screaming for my acceptance.

I glared at Valore as he hefted his axe, readying to strike me down. The grin never left his lips. He had spoken the truth. I was everything he said I was. The axe dropped.

Everto caught the haft with the edge just inches from my skull. I met Valore’s bright eyes, the words of my cousin echoing through my mind. There are two types of people in life: enemies and those who will become enemies. It’s sometimes better just to kill them all and worry about sorting out the pieces later. Frank sometimes made a twisted sense. I knew then what needed to be done.

Anger welled up inside me and chased away my weakness. My grip tightened upon the hilt. I stepped left and twisted my wrist to bring Everto around. As the axe finished its descent, my blade sunk into the meat of Valore’s biceps. His scream joined those that filled the air outside. His arm fell limp to his side. A quick flick of Everto severed the tendon at the elbow of Valore’s other arm. His axe slipped from his grip to clatter to the floor.

“For all my trials to be a part of the Choir, I’ve had to scratch and claw my way to but a meager acceptance. If my torment has done nothing else, it has forced me to become the best I can be. And though the cursed blood of devils taints my lineage, it was you who stood above my bed with intent to slaughter me in my sleep. Tell me now, Valore, who is the true demon here?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but there were no words of his I wished to hear. I thrust Everto into his throat, the tip piercing through his flesh and sinking into the marbled wall behind him with a grating screech. He twitched and grasped at the blade, blood gushing between his fingers. With wide eyes, he starred at me, his smile gone from his lips at last.

Though Valore had meant to kill me, I could find no satisfaction in his suffering. I twisted my sword and freed it from his neck, letting him slide to the floor. His life spilled from his wounds, puddling about him as he breathed his last. I slipped my blade between his ribs and stopped his heart. It was all the mercy I could bring myself to offer. Though I knew He would not hear, I sent thanks to the Father that Valore’s soul would find sanctuary under Metatron’s care, and I would not be forced to consume his essence. I could not live with Valore’s spirit being a part of me.