Nephilim Rising

Angelic Hosts Series, Book 4, Episode 11, Part 2

A simple task, or something more?

Blanca struggled to the surface of consciousness. All around her the acrid scent of burnt flesh seemed to fill the air. She couldn’t fathom where it was coming from, only that it was overpowering her senses. She cracked an eyelid and gazed through a bleary fog at her surroundings. To her surprise, she was in what appeared to be a well-stocked wine room, like the type she’d glimpsed in magazines highlighting the lives of the rich and famous. There were rows and rows of fancy bottles and a couple of oak casks in one corner. The room temperature was cool, but there was heat radiating at her back. The disgusting smell was also coming from that direction. She turned her head and realized that was the only part of her body she could move. She was sitting in a wooden chair with her arms tied tight behind the back of the seat. A gag shoved into her mouth prevented her from screaming.

And she wanted to scream.

A shadow bloomed on her left growing longer as the heat against her skin increased. The rank odor made her queasy. Worse, she had no way of covering her nose to prevent it from invading her senses.

“Ssssso, you’ve finally awoken.” A hissing voice whispered in her ear and then a face came into view—if she could call it such.

Blanca jerked away, blinking the sting of smoke from her eyes. It was a monster, a creature cocking its charred head left and right as the empty sockets of its eyes perversely mocked Blanca’s extreme reaction. Where lips should be were burnt bits of flesh hanging loosely over stained pointed teeth. It appeared to be grinning in a grotesque manner.

“Not happy with what you see,” it hissed. In slow motion, the burnt-out husk began to fill out. The blackened skin turned red, then pink, and then a soft, pearlescent flesh tone. Lips grew over the teeth and eyes filled in the empty sockets. Luxurious red hair grew from a newly formed scalp and before Blanca’s startled eyes, a beautiful woman appeared. “Is this better, lovey?”

She wanted to vomit, but the gag in her mouth made it impossible. There was something odd about the woman’s green eyes. They glowed, and there was a drowning sensation when she looked too long. Blinking back tears, Blanca redirected her gaze anywhere else except at that monstrous female’s eyes.

“Cinder, stop playing with the human.” A deep, heavily accented voice sounded behind Blanca. She turned her neck, straining to see to whom the voice belonged.

An elegant man wearing a white suit with black vest, a crisp white shirt and a bolo tie entered her field of vision. Blanca’s eyes took in his appearance, noting the animal skin black leather boots. She didn’t quite recognize the pattern. Ignoring that, she returned to his face. The man had dark hair, neatly combed, and darker eyes. A thin mustache lined full lips. He looked to be somewhere in his late thirties or early forties, but despite being attractive, something about his peacock clothing put her off. There was also a telltale hint of cruelty around the edges of his lips and an evil glint in the deep, dark abyss of his eyes.

He bowed formally, as if from another century altogether. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Esteban del Fuego.”

Blanca blinked. It was all she could do with a gag in her mouth. He noticed, stepping forward.

“My apologies,” he said, pulling the gag out. “We no longer need this. No one will hear you here.” He threw the rag at the thing called Cinder. The redhead snatched it out of the air and carried the wet rag to her nose, inhaling deeply.

“Mmmnn, tears, fear, and just a hint of…cilantro?” She licked the rag. “Yes. Cilantro. Who had the salsa earlier?” Green eyes zeroed in on Blanca who refused to look at her.

“She does not appreciate your humor, Cinder.” Del Fuego grinned.

Blanca focused on the man. “Why am I here? Why have you kidnapped me?”

Del Fuego studied the petite human female. She appeared fearless on the surface, but he smelled her anxiety in the heat coming off her body. She was afraid. It was probably more due to Cinder revealing herself in demon form than her abduction, but it was intoxicating, nonetheless. And she was attractive—for a mortal. Tiny and lovely. He could see why the new guardian kept her around. If he had more time, he wouldn’t mind exploring more of this woman, but that was not the case. He needed her to open the key and there was no more time to waste. As soon as she was discovered missing along with the clock, he had no doubt a cadre of avenging angels would descend upon his abode and that he could not allow. Not before he hid the key in Hell first, beyond the reach of the ascending Christ child.

All of demonkind knew that the end-times prophesy had begun. The problem was it meant the end of time for Hell’s hosts on Earth. Esteban did not want to be sent back to Hell. There, he was no one, had very little standing, and would be tortured mercilessly. A little-known fact about demons is that they did not really enjoy being tortured. At least, he didn’t. It was literally hell. But he derived great pleasure from torturing others and that was something he could only accomplish here on Earth. Mortals were easy to manipulate, to coerce. Their flesh was soft and bled easily, which pleased him, but it was the destruction of their souls that delivered him into ecstasy. And when he did not have a mortal to flay, to terrify and force into a homicidal or suicidal rage, he had his pet, Cinder. She enjoyed some of their play, but he knew that when he wielded the flaming barb wire whip, ripping and peeling the soft skin of her human form from her bones, she suffered. Her suffering was his own sick form of heaven, but for Cinder, it was hell.

How could he give that up? The answer was, of course, he could not. And for that, he needed the petite human. She was the only one who could physically touch the key. Any demon who tried would be destroyed forever by the magic in the Tau. No coming back from that. What he needed to do was open a temporary abyss into hell. Once opened, he would need the woman to carry the key into the abyss. Such a portal was a one-way ticket to a hotspot of brimstone and desperate, damned souls. She did not need to know this. He would have her hide it in a place of his choosing, and she would be forever trapped there with it, having no choice but to wait until he was ready to wield it in his bid for dominion over Hell.

“I need your help,” he said, smiling. “There is a task, one that you are uniquely qualified to perform. If you do this for me, I will set you free. No questions asked. You will never see me again. I promise.”

Blanca’s stomach churned. The queasiness she felt earlier from the stench of the one called Cinder was replaced with a new gut reaction. The man was lying to her, but about which part, she was not exactly sure.

“What task? Why me”

He clasped his hands behind his back. “There is an object I need you to retrieve.” Del Fuego moved to a side table just out of Blanca’s view. He returned with a tray in his now gloved hands. On the tray was the clock from Antonio’s house. It was still ticking. He set it down atop a stack of wine crates.

Bits and pieces of Blanca’s memory came back. She recalled the moment she’d been grabbed, but then something strange happened. Cinder was there too. She got right in Blanca’s face, and making eye contact, whispered, “Pick up the clock and come with me.” It was weird because suddenly, she was unable to stop herself from walking to the mantle, picking up the clock, and following the redhead out of Antonio’s house. She didn’t remember much after that. Even the parts she did remember seemed more dreamlike than reality.

“I don’t understand,” she began.

Del Fuego sighed. “Of course you don’t, and you have no need of understanding. I simply need you to remove the key inside this clock.”

“A key?” Blanca looked at the old wooden clock. “Like a windup key?”

The dark-haired man shook his head. “I couldn’t say. No one has ever seen it before, but inside there is a key, and you must remove it. Once you do, you’ll deliver it to another location. That is all.”

None of it made any sense. Blanca’s head spun. “Why can’t you do that yourself? What do you need me for? Just crack it open and pull the key out yourself!”

A flash of anger lit Esteban’s eyes changing them from black to red for an instant. “There is protection on the clock, a spell of sorts that prevents me from touching it.” He reined in his anger, not wanting to reveal the real reason he could not touch the clock. He didn’t want that knowledge in her hands for fear she might use it to gain her freedom. “Trust me, I could drop it from the highest rooftop in the city and it would not break.”

“What about her?” Blanca threw a look in Cinder’s direction. The odd creature had been quiet throughout the exchange.

“She cannot. She’s not human. It must be a human. See? You are uniquely qualified.”

Blanca let that sink in. Then she looked at Del Fuego. “Then what the hell are you?”

A slow smile spread across his handsome face. He touched the tip of his nose and pointed at her. The look in his eyes said that she’d figured out something important. “Precisely, my lovely. Now you are getting it.”

A new fear bloomed in Blanca’s heart. She was not dealing with run of the mill psychos or criminals. Both Cinder and Esteban del Fuego were demons. Honest to God demons!

She swallowed her fear, her heart racing. She needed to think fast. Glancing at the old clock, she studied it. It was just a clock. How could a wood casing and some gears thwart a demon? He said it could only be opened by a human.

“How am I supposed to open it? You mean just take it apart?”

He shrugged. “Why don’t we find out?” Del Fuego moved to her side and pulled her, chair and all, closer to the makeshift table upon which the clock sat.

“I’ll need my hands,” said Blanca.

He pulled a sharp stiletto from a sheath hidden in his vest pocket. Brandishing the weapon, he leaned in, giving Blanca a hard look. “If you try anything, I’ll gut you,” he said, his eyes shifting towards Cinder, “and then I’ll let my pet eat your innards.”

Cinder smiled, her sharp, white, pointy teeth showing.

A trickle of sweat slid down Blanca’s spine, but her skin felt like ice. “I won’t.”

Esteban smiled and slid the knife between her wrists, cutting the ropes. “Good girl.”

Pins and needles immediately stabbed Blanca’s hands like a thousand tiny knives pricking her from the inside, a reminder of what could happen if she angered the demon.

Del Fuego stood back. “Now, see if you can prove your worth. Open the clock and retrieve the key.”

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