Sariel watched disinterestedly from the alley-way, as the human ran across the road, her long hair flowing behind her like a white banner. Rain lashed down on him, splashing off the long leather trench coat he wore, ice cold needles of water running down his face and mingling with the blood that saturated his shirt.
Demon blood! The stuff reeked like a sewer on a hot summer day. Even after thousands of years, smelling the stuff still made his stomach roil. Brushing his hair from his face, he stepped off the ledge of the tall apartment block, landing on the concrete 500 feet below with barely a whisper of air. Feeling eyes on him, he glanced to his right to see Malak and Zagan.
The pair were dressed similarly to him, dark pants and long leather jackets, big heavy shitkickers on their size 19 feet. Malak was the talker of the group—if he could get close enough to someone, they would do whatever he willed. But then, they all had that ability.
As Angels from the dawn of existence, they held a power that few humans could comprehend. But Malak had a way of twisting the humans so that they did his bidding without realizing they had been manipulated. His blonde hair and blue eyes, coupled with an easy smile and hard body, made him seem approachable, especially to women.
It was a mistake people only made once. Malak was one of the Triad, as was Sariel. A group of three Fallen Angels, banished to earth and stripped of their status as Archangels by God for their sins. A sneer tipped his lips at the thought. He and his brothers had been walking this earth for a Millenia, watching as God’s children tore each other apart for lust and power, while he, Malak and Zagan were punished for much less. But they had been Archangels and so, the expectations placed on them were greater. They were to be beyond reproach, expected to act with pure hearts and selfless souls.
Flicking the deadly Carnwenna dagger in his hand, he approached his brothers, his stride long and sure.
“Did you find the other two?” he asked, knowing by their expressions that they hadn’t.
“No, I told you the Shiwanna could not be trusted,” growled the dark-haired Zagan.
Sariel ignored his angry outburst, watching the opening of the alley-way, with a guarded expression. His senses were primed and tingling with the knowledge that Demons were near. Gripping the dagger harder, his muscles tensed in readiness for the coming fight.
“Demons!” Zagan spat as Sariel felt his brothers move, flanking him as they had done since time began. Adrenaline spiked his blood, heightening his already supernaturally expanded senses.
A shadow fell over the exit, and he watched as five Demons ambled into the alley-way, their distinct white blonde hair making them stand out in the stormy evening light. A growl reached his ears, and he suppressed the urge to smile. These Demons were young, the distinct stench of burned popcorn that followed them around not as strong as older demons. They would be inept and inexperienced, but what they lacked in fighting experience, they would make up for with enthusiasm.
This was just what he needed—a good fight to take the edge off the fury that raged through him. Killing the Demons night after night was accomplishing nothing, as they had increased vastly in the last ten years.
Armed with the knowledge that the demons were spreading a disease to human women, the Angels realized that the situation was dire and more desperate than ever. Fighting them was not enough; they needed to drive them back into the fiery pits of hell where they belonged.
The first demon launched himself at Sariel, their bodies colliding with the force of two Mack trucks traveling at high speeds. He felt the young Demon’s wrist snap as he swung his arm up, blocking the blow from the knife his enemy carried. With an upward arc of his arm, he slashed the demon’s throat, severing his carotid artery. Blood spurted over him as he dropped the demon to the floor. Flipping the demon over, he grasped the back of his neck, ripping the spinal cord that contained the brain stem from his lifeless body. Throwing it to the wet, dank ground, he watched as the body shriveled up before turning to dust.
There was only one way to kill a demon, and that was to sever the spinal cord. Contrary to common beliefs, the heart was not where the soul resided; instead it was found in the tiny synapses that fired the brain, each thought, each memory locked into one small neuron.
Sariel glanced at his brothers. The remaining Demons were turning to ash at their feet. He was disappointed that they hadn’t put up more of a challenge, finding himself becoming more bored of late. Roaming the earth and killing demons and evil spirits had lost its appeal, and he could feel himself becoming more jaded by the hour.
“We need to follow the white-haired human,” Zagan began, but Sariel stopped him, not wanting anyone else near her, except him.
“No, I will follow her. You need to find the location of Sandalphon and Mihael. They are the key to having this disease eradicated from human women.”
Zagan tilted his head, watching him intently, and Sariel met his hard gaze, unflinching. With a nod, Malak and Zagan took to the air, their mighty black wings briefly casting a shadow over the night sky before they disappeared.
It was a common misconception that Angels with black wings were servants of Lucifer, but that was only partly true. As on earth, there was a hierarchy. True Fallen Angels who did terrible deeds were indeed banished to hell and chosen by Lucifer to do the work of the Dark Lord, a final ‘fuck you’ to God from his disobedient children. But Angels such as himself and his brothers, who had just not lived up to God’s high standards, were banished to Earth to protect his proudest creation, although in their case, they had been stripped of the Archangel status and power as well.
They were also given black wings, but they were always tipped in the color of their previous wings. His were a beautiful gold, Zagan’s a peacock blue and Malak’s a vibrant purple. They were easily recognizable and vastly known throughout the Universe as God’s Protectors on Earth. This made them targets, with only their fierce skill and feared reputation holding back all but the bravest or most stupid Demons or Evil from attacking them.
Sariel kept his wings closed, hidden from the view of humans, and instead followed the scent from the white-haired human. She was a scientist who had inherited a relic from her ancestors that could be the key to saving the humans from extinction—something that the great man himself was determined would not be allowed to happen.
He caught her scent as he crossed the crowded street, heading toward Grand Park and the Cathedral of Our Ladies of the Angels. It was where the sweetly scented human went every night to provide assistance to the homeless.
He watched from the shadows of a derelict building as she moved about the kitchen, her movements light and smooth as if floating. Something about her drew him, and he knew that he didn’t want’ Zagan or, God forbid, Malek anywhere near her. Sariel had never felt love, not in the same way humans did. He felt compassion and protection, but never the soul-crushing feeling that humans described.
It wasn’t that his kind were incapable of love, it was more that he chose to lock that part of him away. Another component of the triad’s punishment was that they were forbidden to act on feelings of love. The penalty meant giving up their immortal status to become human. If they chose to walk away from a relationship, then the human’s mind would be wiped, and they would not remember a second of what had been shared. Love and lust was what had placed his brethren and himself into this mess. By not controlling and watching Eve, she had broken the rules allowing lust and sexual desire to taint what God had created.
Sariel had never even come close to feeling what he felt was a human emotion. Angels were superior beings and didn’t need love; power was their drug. But now here he was, entranced by his very own Eve, a direct descendant of the first female human.
His body flowed with a heightened sense of need and desire for this woman, this inferior human, whose help they needed if they had any hope of stopping the demons from obliterating the race that God loved so much.
Angels of the Triad