<------------707 VOTES ;)

I'm going to start out by saying... LISTEN TO THIS DAMN SONG. This is the song I listen to when I get stuck writing this story. EVERY lyric relates to this book.

~Nothing by lies and crooked wings ~You are the Faith inside me ~Don't remember, remember. ~Put me to sleep Evil Angel ~Don't, don't surrender. ~Open your wings Evil Angel

LISTEN TO THE SONG TO THE RIGHT. I COMMAND YOU!!!!!!!! (Phew got a little crazy there.)

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I lay on my back on my fluffy comforter not knowing whether to cry hysterically, prank call someone, sleep, or call my Therapist. Then I debated whether to do all three.

My face broke out from the makeup.

I had a throbbing headache

Marcy was passed out on the couch with a book on her lap therefore I had no one to talk to but myself, plus I received a text from her that she had some guys coming over later. She said one was perfect for me, Josh; the other was perfect for her. She added that a boyfriend was just what I needed in my life and I would be so much happier. I was very skeptical as I read the text.

But I was a mess.

I was fighting the urge to storm back to Devin & Son and take the Son part by the ear, throw him into a car, and then haul him off a massive cliff, laughing to myself crazily as I ate the most delicious sandwich to ever walk the planet.

My stomach gurgled at that thought. It was clear that last part of the plan was interfered by my monstrously hungry tummy. But I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t prank call. I couldn’t throw David off a cliff; too many flaws with that one.

But could I call my Therapist?

I rolled over on my bed and faced the window, the window which was opened the night before, allowing the cloak an opportunity to drag me out. A solid shiver spread down my spine at the memory of what the cloak had told me and how I believed almost every word it had said. I believed it more than Death himself. Death.

The person who had completely lipsticked my face with black lipstick. Who only left two post-its and a half-eaten sandwich in the fridge. The sandwich someone really stressed out, someone really confused, someone so driven to the edge that the sandwich they had created was the only hope of happiness they had when they arrived home from a dreadful day of David.

“My sandwich,” I hissed at the ceiling.

All guys are bastards, I cursed silently and rolled over to face the ceiling. I had closed all of my blinds and turned off all of my lights making my room virtually dark, since there was yet another unforgiving storm brewing its power from outside.

Oh Chicago…

I rolled over again to face my door, willing it to open and have a pizza guy step in.

I smacked myself in the head because of that rebellious thought. A pizza guy? Really? Which pizza guy did I exactly want? The actual one who would just let me pay them and leave, or the one who only pretended to be the pizza guy just to watch me suffer?

“I hate this,” I groaned, and rubbed my face with my hands. I felt so uncomfortable in my own skin after leaving the office, after seeing David’s screensaver. Tiara was just so beautiful…so stunning…so…

Not me.

I sat up from the bed with tears in my eyes and sauntered over to the closet. I tore it open with aggression and peered inside. I needed to be comfortable. I couldn’t wear the constricting work outfit that itched against my skin.

I closed the closet and walked over to my large dresser. I pulled open the bottom drawer to reveal the hundreds of t-shirts I had let in the dark and sorted through them. After picking up dozens and remembering all the times I had wore them I finally found the one I wanted.

My batman’s wife shirt.

I tore the skin-tight blouse and slacks off and switched them with baggy sweatpants, my batman wife shirt, and then my purple fuzzy socks. I sat on the bed and faced the mirror with a small smile as I began to braid my hair into one solid fishtail, my eyes like fire, glued to the crumbled work outfit on the floor.

The heels would be fine to keep. They were stunning.

In one fluid motion, I hurried out of my bedroom, came back with scissors and cut the crap out of the blouse. I tore and ripped the slacks until my heavy breathing was the only sound in the room and the constricting work outfit was dead on the ground.

It wasn’t enough.

After searching through the drawers of the kitchen once again, I stormed back into my room, I grabbed the pieces of clothing and carried them to the window. I unlatched the window, climbed outside into the fire escape and stood there on the large metal grating, looking across at the Devin & Son. Wind blew my perfectly done black fishtail braid in the wind, which would have given anyone chills.

Not me.

I was burning with rage.

I took the lighter out of my pocket and lit the first slice of fabric, then dropped it to the seventy story drop. I did it again, again, again and again until every strip of fabric was out of my hand except for the slacks. With an ear crunching warrior cry I lit the slack pieces on fire and threw them like a football out into the street as I screamed some vulgar words involving David and his arrogance.

When I finished I leaned against the railing and readied myself to cry hysterically and run back into the apartment.

5…

4…

3…

2…

A slow, powerful clap rang from behind me. “Encore, encore.”

I whirled around ready to stab them with an invisible knife. Death was leaning against the brick wall of the apartment next to the window with a cigarette in his gloved hand and his large cloak unmoving in the storm-readied air.

“For some reason that whole tribal scene you had going on really turned me on,” his voice drawled. “Especially the part when you tore apart those slacks like a wild animal and screamed “Die pants, die!” He made a noise in his throat and shook his head. “So hot.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked. I was too tired to yell or scream at him to leave. It was best to just let him leave on his own, I decided.

“I’m a bird watcher,” Death said simply, yet seriously. He took a long drag of the cigarette and tilted his head up so he could blow little puffs of smoke into the air. “I just love birds. They’re just so majestically awesome, so free, and so dumb when they go off track and fly into windows…possibly die on impact, before falling hundreds of feet and smashing like a pancake onto the ground into a nice big pile of mush.” He took another drag and looked at me. I could feel his smirk. “Then there are those outstanding birds that never even glance at the window.”

I put my fingers to the bridge of my nose. “Was that really necessary?” I said crankily.

He nodded.

I crossed my arms over my chest and walked towards my bedroom window. “It’s about to rain. I doubt there are any birds in the sky.”

“Are you sure?” he countered, and the way he said lead me on that he wasn’t talking about birds to begin with.

I watched him carefully as I stood next to the window. Just one duck and a step to the side and I was in my apartment. Safe. “What are you really talking about?”

“I’ll tell you later if you’re good.”

“Do I even want to hear this?”

He shrugged and took a step towards the window. We stared at each other for the longest time before I knew something was a bit off about him. The way he was standing. The way his head wasn’t tilted away from me like it usually was, and what I could see of his boots weren’t angled to the side, but directly on me.

Like a predator.

I cleared my throat. “Listen. I…” I tried to think of something I had to do. “I have to clean my room. I was trying to pick out an outfit today and I almost got lost. Plus I have someone coming in an hour.” I gave myself an inner pat on the back for such an excellent lie. There wasn’t even a nervous laugh after it!

Death leaned against the wall of apartment beside my window and traced the ledge of the window with his gloved hand. I leaned towards the window, ready to bolt. “Liar,” he sang under his breath.

“I’m not lying,” I continued. “I really have someone coming over.”

“Who?”

The question fazed me for a moment. “You don’t know them.”

“I know everyone. I’m Death.”

“You don’t.”

He straightened. “Is it a man? Are you attracted to him?” Death suddenly asked. His height dangerously over mine and I saw his large dark hands fist at his sides. "Name."

I crossed my arms over my chest. “That’s none of your—“ “Name.”

“His name?” I asked, in shock that he was acting so jealous. What was the deal with this guy? “Why the hell would I give you his name when you won’t tell me shit about yourself, or why you areeverywhere?”

“Why won’t you tell me?” he asked in almost a growl. I felt the air cool around me as he let out a bitter laugh. “Oh. I know its David isn’t it?”

When Death didn’t respond I gripped the window and lifted my leg to the ledge. “Get out of here.”

He continued to stay still.

“Death! I said—“ He whipped his head to me, making me jump at the suddenness. “If you kiss him. I’ll kill him. I swear it.”

A moment passed between us. “No you won’t.” I turned to leave and felt his warm hand grip my arm. He hauled me outside and pinned me against the wall.

“Tell me his name,” Death growled in front of my face. I smelled cigarettes and a wave of mint as he spoke. “Tell me his name,” he repeated in a more demanding tone.

I snorted. “Why would you care?”

“It’s important.”

“Josh.”

“Josh?”

I pushed at his chest and with no luck made him move. I could feel the hard muscle underneath his cloak and quickly pulled away. A blush crept onto my cheeks. “Move out of my way. Now,” I said, with enough force to move a two hundred and fifty pound wrestler.

Not Death.

“I just want to see something is all,” he said.

“What?” I asked curiously.

“Invite me inside and I will.”

I made a face. “I already invited you in last night. Why can’t you—“

“Just invite me in.”

“Say please.”

“Fine,” he bit out. “Just give me a moment.” He made a noise in his throat and lifted his head to the sky. He shook his shoulders a bit and stomped his foot. “Pleeee…pllllleaaaa...p-p-p-p….plea—” Death took a dramatic breath out. “I almost got it. Give me a sec.”

“Are you serious?

He turned his head slowly and poked my nose. “Please?”

“Not good enough.”

Death scratched his belly and then his head. “What the hell could I say that’s better than please?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Think fast.”

“I’ll answer three questions from you,” he said. “Four questions. Four answers. If you ask me, that’s a wonderful offer.”

I shook my head. What did he think he was? An auctioneer? “That’s not worth an invite. I was bound to shake something out of you.”

He leaned away from me on the balcony for a second and then burst away from it with a chuckle. “I won’t touch you. I’ll listen to you. I won’t paint your face, which I thought at the moment was extremely hysterical and now suddenly regret, and I won’t touch Marcy unless she gets really annoying and I want to bash her head in. I promise.”

He put his hand out.

I stared at it.

I really hope he was kidding when he said some of that….

“Fine. You can come in.” I grasped his hand and instantly regretted it. A shot of electricity shot up my arm, sailed all the way down my toes and came back up to settle in my stomach. He chuckled and rubbed my palm with is thumb. “You liked it, don’t lie.”

I pulled my hand away. “You’re sick.” I turned and made my way into the house when I felt a hard smack on my ass. I whirled around ready to rip him another tomorrow.

He was gone.

“Sorry. Reflex. Won’t happen again.”

I tore my gaze to my bedroom towards the deep voice to see that Death was already on my bed, face down in the pillows.

“I didn’t give you the OK to dive onto my bed!”

His response was to sniff heavily like a dog.

“Stop that,” I said, after thirty seconds straight of him sniffing.

“I can’t help it. These sheets smell amazing,” he muffled into the bed.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Death.”

He rolled over on his side with his elbow on the bed and his hand propping his head up and faced me. “Pooh-bear,” he purred in response.

I was not up for games.

“Let’s get something straight.” I said getting a little peeved that he was having these cold and hot moments. I walked over to the bed, grabbed a pillow and whacked him in the head. “You are not allowed on my bed. Ever. In fact, I suggest you tell me why you’re here now before I get out a cross and nail you in the ass with it!”

He sat up with the pillow I threw clutched against his chest.

“More,” I said.

He moved the pillow off of him and swung his legs up to the side of the bed in front of me. He tilted his head up at me.

“More.”

He slapped his hands on his thighs with a groan and leisurely got up to his feet, rising to his full height in a matter of seconds. Purposely you could say, he made sure his chest was puffed out in front of my face. At the same time, he made sure to keep his powerful, hidden eyes on me the whole time he got up.

“You’re lucky we shook hands,” he said, and hovered a gloved finger over my throat in a slashing motion. “Or I might have gotten feisty at your sudden love for commanding me to do things for you. I’m not one to be bossed around.”

“Stop talking,” I snapped. “Unless it’s about why you’re here. And sit back on the bed. You’re too damn tall for this room.” He stayed standing. “Sit!”

He threw his hands up. “But you said—“

“Sit down, Death,” I interrupted with a wide smile. “I own you until you leave this house. We shook on it.” “Oh, you will regret this—“

I put a finger to my lips. “Shush. It’s Faith time. Not pompous, pig-headed bastard time.” I clasped my hands behind my back and paced back and forth in front of him, while he watched me with a dark, blank expression.

Get it? Dark and bank…cause’ he has no face…

“Tell me all the details you know about who broke into my house the other day. He said he was John. I got a flash that he had blue eyes, and then I saw the cloak was in a form of a man and he got scared off.” I took a deep breath and faced the hooded man on my bed. “Just tell me what you know about it.”

Death let out a chuckle and shook his head. “Well, it wasn’t me. I’d never take form of John; he’s a total d-bag who wears polo’s.” He laughed again, stretched, and fell back onto the bed, making every spring in the mattress scream out in pain. “John’s a guardian angel level eight. He thinks he’s all high and mighty just because he can walk on Earth and in Heaven. Who ever took form of him obviously knew you would recognize him in that image and or would feel calm around him.”

I scratched my head. “Wait. I’m confused then who took the form of John?”

He rubbed his belly and then stretched his arms over the edge of the bed. “Can’t really tell you that….unless of course you want that to be your next question. That would be two questions by the way.”

My mouth popped open. “What? That’s not fair! That was part of the same question!” “Do you want me to tell you who the guy in your house was or not?”

I fought the urge to scream. “Fine.”

“It was a friend, Faith. I need my cloak or else I become weak and so they took the liberty of trying to steal it back. The cloak, however, became greatly attached to you from its stay in your house. It must have sensed your distress and I guess…took the body-form of myself to get him out of your house.”

I tried not to act too shocked that the lean, muscular body the cloak had taken form of was what death looked like in skin-tight clothing.

The man in front of my snickered. “I know what you’re thinking about.”

“Shutup.”

Death slid his hand up his chest and made a sizzling noise then did his best impersonation of a muscle man in a baggy cloak. “Tell me about your curse,” I blurted out when I tried to ignore his touchy-feeling thing he had starting. Death froze for only moment and then shifted on the bed so he was laying more completely on it, even though his feet went off the edge.

“I think it’s better if you don’t know,” he said, after a long pause. “It’s not the happiest story in the world.”

I shifted on my feet. “Oh…then—y-you don’t have to tell me.” He moved his hand up as if he was going to say something. “No it’s fine, really. I shouldn’t have asked that anyways," I added.

“I’ll tell you,” he said quietly. His whole demeanor changed suddenly. “But I’m not telling you it again so listen carefully, ok?”

I took a deep breath and nodded my head. “Of course.”

He sat up on the head board and played with his cloak as he spoke. “I was born in the 133 BC, in Venice, Rome and I went by Alexandru. My family lived on a beautiful orchard with hundreds of archers of land. My parents weren’t exactly poor and bathed me in gold as a child and so when I grew up I felt I had no reason to make a living, I was living already. I could practically own anything or anyone I wanted…”

My Father, since he had known much about politics from his own father, had helped Julius Caesar conduct numerous plans against Britain and other expeditions. To the people in our village he was was superior, a role model you could say. Julius Caesar trusted practically no one, and yet my Father was in on almost all of his contrivances. When I was around twelve years old I realized my Father wasn’t going to be a huge role in my life. He was out most of the day and night, leaving me the man of the house; chores with the Horses and orchard that the slaves couldn’t complete on their own and taking care of my Mother, who was becoming depressed that my Father was leaving her with such a Burdon with the house everyday and yet she allowed him into the house whenever he returned to us for a small amount of time.”

Death sat up, making his back go stiff.

“When I was fourteen my Father had finally begun to stay out the home more, since the war with Persia was already beginning. He began to teach me the ways of a warrior encase I would be sent off to battle. He made me spare with him with a sword and then later on sent me off to arenas where I would create strategies against men older than myself, or around my age. My Father noticed the talent I was given and told me one day I would be a fantastic warrior like Julius Caesar.

I was really just thrilled my Father was finally paying attention to me, and not his wine or his intense need to be involved in war politics. I asked him the day of my arranged wedding with a wealthy girl named Annona, if he was finally going to stay with my Mother and I for good--if we were really going to be a family again like he promised. I had no idea what kind of man my Father was when I asked this. I had no concept of how deceiving a person could be and I really set up the next two years of my life horribly because you see, my Father was insane.

Every night while my mother and I were asleep, he would take our black stallion, Jupiter, put on a black riding hood and…. he killed. He killed. And killed. And killed. Nobody had suspected him as the reason their child was missing, or their father was found drowned in a river. I hadn’t suspected the reason my Mother was crying every night when he was gone was not because he wasn’t home, but because she wasn’t getting beaten every night. She wasn’t being threatened by the throat by my disgusting excuse for a Father, or threatened that her son would be bled out if she told anyone about the beatings. Now she was and I had absolutely no idea. I had welcomed him back into our life with open arms, unaware of just how dark and menacing this man really was. What he was capable of destroying in my life.

Annona, who I was to be married to, was a shy young lady, who had taken a liking to me almost instantly. It wasn’t common for two arranged couples to fall for each other as we had; in fact it was almost strange that we did. When we became married we were beyond happy. My family had build a home not too far from the orchard so I could continue to be close to my family, and yet stay and support my own home. Annona became pregnant a few months after our marriage and my Mother was thrilled. My Father however, wasn’t, because he knew if I had a child I wouldn’t set off to war as the others did.

Annona was part of a fight when she had strolled to the market to bargain up some herbs. She had tried to defend a slave boy who was being beaten by his master and was killed almost instantly when the Master took his sword and slid it right through her heart. For months I was utterly devastated, I could barely get out of bed because that night I was the one who retrieved the notice that she had died. I was the one that saw her paled skin in the harsh moonlight when I had hurried to the scene on my horse, I was the one who had carried her to her family and told them what had happened. I had to see the look in their eyes when they saw their only daughter lifeless and paler than the whitest silk. We hadn’t even told them of the baby, we wanted it to be a surprise. I was forced to tell them when we put her to rest.”

I sat on the edge of the bed with tears in my eyes, willing him to end the story. But I knew it had to be continued for me to understand him. Death suddenly stood up from the bed and faced the window. “I had turned eighteen and I had still not accepted Annona’s death. I began fighting in arenas, as my Father had made me do when I was younger. I started to live and breathe fights. I was preparing myself for could be called a championship at the arena, when I spotted the most beautiful creature only a hundred feet away from the stable. It was a younger version of my Father’s stallion, except this one was wild and smaller. He was kicking up his front feet and galloping around the orchard with such freedom, such carelessness that I knew I had to have him.

He was perfect. I took a thick rope from the stable and slowly approached the stallion with careful feet. As I neared I saw the horse wasn’t tamed one bit, and by the looks of a jagged scar that ran across his side that was in the strangest shape. Without second glancing the symbol I concluded the horse was simply born in the wild and or a runaway, left for someone to snatch up and train. It was honestly a miracle just I had managed to calm that horse down.

My Father was out of the country for a few days, leaving my Mother and I home alone just like the old days. She seemed happier, almost excited that she was alone with me. My mother had helped me set up the horse’s new home and even gave me a few tips of how to train the horse to the best of my ability, since she had grown up with numerous stallions. They were by far the hardest to train but over the next two days I had managed to pet the damn thing without it trying to nail me in the face with its hoof.”

He stepped a bit towards the window and leaned his head against it.

“I named the horse Cruentus, or blood thirsty, since he was always trying to take a bite out of me when I wasn’t looking. When I had managed to only pet his snout but also bath him, I saw the symbol. It was so exotic looking that I found myself running my fingers across it. A shot of electricity shot up my arm and I fell to my knees in front of the horse. I blinked and could only see puffs of black; I felt my head hit the ground right when I had the vision of my Father. I didn’t know it was him at first because he didn’t have on his normal riding uniform of god and white. But it was black, a cold, dangerous black, a color that could easily blend in with the night.

I stood as third person in the scene and watched him slowly take his hood off of himself and face the small market in front of him with his dark eyes. His features were blank and hard as he took a step towards a young boy who was collecting a jar of rose pedals that had fallen from the store’s stand and a piece of bread that had collected dirt from beneath the table. My father took out his sword, called the boy a thief and told the boy to face him.

I felt myself cringe in the vision, willing it to disappear. I didn’t want to see what would happen next. I was about to close my eyes when I saw her. Annona had jumped into the scene and stood in front of the boy. She told my Father to leave him be. My Father shook his head and put the sword to her throat. I tried to scream out to her but my voice wasn’t part of the vision, it came out mute. My father brought the sword back and sliced it straight through her heart. I screamed and dropped to my knees in the vision, feeling her very pain as we both fell to the ground. My father’s eyes were crazy, not his own. I saw the capability that he had at that very moment and everything clicked. My Father was a killer and he had killed my wife and who knows how many more innocent people.

The vision faded and I was back in the stable with tears pouring down my face. I felt like I couldn’t breathe and my heart was breaking over Allona’s passing all over again. My Mother found me like that and once I told her of the story she confided in me about her own issues with my Father. She told me she thought he was capable of doing such a horrid act but it was best not to bring it up.

I pushed away from her and the horse went wild. I screamed at my mother, asked her why she hadn’t told how terrible of a person my father was. She cried and cried as she held on to me and told me she had found bloodied knives outside the house in a bush, where she concluded he kept until he could wash them off without us looking. I held my Mother’s soft face in my hands and promised her everything would be ok. I would make sure of it.

About a week after the vision I took Cruentas for a ride across the field outback. I had slipped on my own riding jacket, which was a dark blue, drowned two glasses of my Father’s strongest liquor and readied up the beast. I was astonished that Cruentas had actually allowed me to ride him. I noticed as we crossed the field that his mane was now shiny; his ribs were no longer poking out on the side due to the heavy diet I had been giving him. When we became a little over two miles from the house I had a terrible feeling settle in my stomach. I turned behind me and attempted to veer the Stallion towards the house. Cruentas turned right back around away from the house and kicked up his feet once, twice, then stopped and made a howling noise in his throat.

My eyes went wide. Ahead of me was a tall man dressed in a similar riding outfit as my father, yet even darker, if that was even possible. Black lines etched along his face and around his bald head. His eyes were a dull silver as he bore into my own and then lit to a luminescent blue, before settling with a black. Their whole eye had been consume by their pupil as they took a step towards me and told me in thick Latin, “Do not be afraid, child. I am here to give you a gift from the Gods, is all.”

I stilled on the horse, becoming mesmerized by the person’s overall flawless features. They lifted up their hood and the Stallion leveled its body down to them, and seemed to bow towards the man as he neared towards me."

“You are master of the blade, are you not?” the man asked me in Latin. “You have suffered greatly over the years and are searching for revenge, are you not? Revenge from say…you’re father?” I managed a nod and stepped off the horse. “Who are you?” I asked him in the same language. “I am all,” was his swift response and then in a blink of an eye he held the black sword my Father had given me, yet larger.

“Take this,” he said.

“No,” I replied, knowing already what he wanted me to do with it.”I will not be at his level.”

“You do not have to make a decision yet. Think about what pleasure it will bring you once you’re Father knows the pain he has brought you? I would also think about what your dead Mother would want you to do,” the man said.

“She is not dead,” I said. “She merely is cooking.”

The man made a face at me, and with that, disappeared into a cloud of black.

I had jumped onto my stallion with ferocity and veered towards the house, my black sword held up in the air as if it would make the horse travel faster. I had no idea what was going on, or how or why it was happening to me, or what would happen to be, but once I arrived at my house my life changed forever. My mother was in fact dead, her blood was splattered acorss the floor in front of a man with a mane of blonde hair. The man’s age was indeterminable, I figured he was around thirty and his features were flawless as the man in the field’s were.

I stood in front of the blood, horrified, unsheathed the black sword, and put it at the man's throat, tears burning my eyes. I asked him where my mother was and if she was dead. He said she was gone and she was dead. Her body was not recoverable where she was. I was confused. I asked why he was in my home, if he had killed her. He told me his name was Gabriel of the Archangels and that I knew why he was in my home. That he hadn't killed my mother, he has simply been waiting for me. His bright eyes fell to the sword in my hands and he calmly pushed it away from his throat.

The man told me I was chosen. He went on about how my heart was pure. How I was special. Then he told me I was born a half demon. I was fated to rise into heaven and protect others who are in need of a guardian, someone to watch over them. I didn’t believe him at first, until he summed my entire life, even the private pieces that no one else had ever known, and proved to me that he knew everything about me. He was telling the truth. He said my mother had died under my father's hand.

I asked Gabriel who the man was with the black lines on his skin the field, and he told me never to speak of him again. The man with the black lines was once a human, one who had accepted the Devil’s fruit and allowed himself to give into revenge. He was turned into a demon, fooling humans into giving into the Devil himself. The demon had tried to get me to kil my father so I would become evil like him. Gabriel said that I had a choice. I could kill my father as the demon said so, or I could escape the human relm, leaving my father forever, and live in the Heavens where I would forever be content and feel at peace.

Death crossed my room to the corner and stood facing it, his head bowed. “Gabriel made me stand like this against the wall with his hand holding my neck. He said I didn’t need to die to become an angel, that I only had to let go of my humanity. I felt I had no reason to live because of my mother’s passing and feebily asked if he would give me the option to end my life. He said he wouldn't end my life. He promised me that one day, with his help, I would forgive my father for what he did, not because I loved him, but because I loved my mother and I would move on from her tragedy as she would have wanted me to. After deep thought, I accepted his offer. I would become a Light Angel, as he put it. Gabriel squeezed the sides of my neck and muttered words in foreign language. I repeat them. I still remember the words to this day.

With God’s will, you, Alexandru Cruscellio will do great good to our world. Heaven almighty, send power within his bones. White wings, spread from his back, his shoulders and out, to allow him through the air and to the castle of forever when he wishes. Promise, spread throughout his chest. Strength, sore up his skin and muscle. Faith, spread throughout his heart and himself, for he is no longer mortal, but immortal, and a brother of Heaven. Amen.

Gabriel let go of my neck and at that, I fell to the ground with a howl of pain. I spat up blood for what seemed like hours and my back arched upwards towards the sky as I bit down on my lip in pain. The sound of my own screaming terrified me and I felt something grow beneath my shoulder pain. A searing, hot pain that made me see white it was so vividly excruciating. Gabriel waited patiently as I sweat and crawled on the floor, muttering everything I was experiencing was completely normal, that I was changing. At some point he must have dragged me outside because I saw Cuentas stomping his hooves only a few feet away from me, with the black sword attached to his dark pillion, facing Gabriel with flared nostrils.

Gabriel got in a stance as if he was about to kill the horse. I rolled over on my back and clawed at the ground towards him. That was when my teeth began growing in my mouth and a hiss escaped my mouth. Gabriel turned around to face me in confusion. He said the creature was not a horse, but a guide sent from the Heavens. It had been captured and corrupted by dark angels, marked with a death symbol, so that someone would be allured by the creature and it would kill it. Gabriel said had had to destroy it before it became too attached to me..."

Death laughed, bringing me back to the present again. “Gabriel hadn’t seen that something was wrong with me until it was too late. The beast, Cruentas, had been spared after I begged Gabriel to leave it be. Little did he know that I was allured by the beast because I was different, vulnerable to evil. When I changed from a half-demon to an angel, I was stronger than most of then most of the beings in heaven combined. Just beneath my skin, no matter what goodness Gabriel saw in me, was a monster that my father had created, who had embedded its claws into my heart.

I disagreed with some of Heaven's laws, but I kept my mouth shut. I always did. Something most at high my level of power couldn’t do, which was just another reason I was different. I spent days and days training with other Angels, trying to get even more powerful than I already was. In Heaven, time seems faster than on Earth, so by the time I had stayed in Heaven for over one-hundred years and leveled myself with the Archangels and Guardians; it had only been eight years on earth.

I had gotten my call to become a Gaurdian after years of training in Heaven. I was to protect a girl around sixteen or seventeen. I was given a image of her in my mind so I could find her. She was pretty, with flushed cheeks and long red hair. Her name was Noleta, she was a sweet girl, and she really was. She happened to live in the same village I once had, which made me even more eager to see if any of my old friends were still hodling a residence there.

Noleta was to be guided by me because she was lost. Her father and fother wanted her to her to marry an older man whom she didn't like, whereas she wanted to adventure across the world. I was to help her make that decision by helping her follow her heart. However, very night she travelled to the very arena I use to go to fight and dressed up as a boy, so she could become a warrior and fight off anyone who tried to attack her or abuse her on her journey. It was against the law to do that and if you were caught, most likely the consequences would be death.”

Death paused, turning his head towards me as if he wasn't sure if I was ready for the rest.

“Keep going,” I whispered. I had to hear more of this unbelievable story.

Death sighed, pulled open my panty drawer, leafed through it with his hand and then closed it. “Damn. Nothing good in there. You should do your laundry." Death faced me again, sighing. "Are you sure you want me to continue?

“You’re a great story teller,” I urged.

He crossed his thick arms over his chest and leaned against the side of the dresser. I noticed he was avoiding the mirror.

“I was sent off to protect Noleta, to guide her, ect, ect... It was a very boring job because not a lot happened in her life before the constant need for her to fight in the arena. I followed her home one night, kicking stones quietly from twenty feet away when I noticed something in the corner of my eye.

I stopped in my tracks and turned slowly to the right. At my age of twenty, and amount of ability to handle anything, I wasn’t too much in shock to see the person before me. The tall man with the bald skull was before me, in his hands holding a black sword. He weaved it around in his hands, his dull grey eyes watching me completely. His pupils dilated and then he spoke in Latin, “I knew we would meet again, chosen one.”

My expression stayed serious as I replied, “Leave before I condemn you to hell, evil Angel.”

The man laughed, a sound so chilling I suddenly fought a chill. “Evil? I am merely rebelling. Few days as a Guardian and you’re already forgetting your manners, boy?” he questioned and took a slow step towards me. “I have only come to help you grasp hold of your revenge. Or have they already poisoned your mind with their abbreviated explanation of life?” He went on about how he knew I was having strange thoughts of massacring villages, how he knew I felt more powerful, and more stronger than any of the other Angels and how I felt that way because I was more powerful and stronger than them. How I was just like him, only greater.

He handed me the back sword. I could feel the power within it, feel all the capability that was held like a sponge within it’s metal. The man with the dark eyes told me four simple words that would gnawed at my mind until I finally realized what I had to do, “You are Death himself,” he said and ran his hand over the heavy blade. As he brushed over the metal, dark clouds ran along it.

“Take his soul as he has taken many," the man said. "Justice will bring you freedom.” He pointed to the sky with a long finger, which had black etchings that ran along the tips. Lightening struck from the sky, right into the sword in my hands. I awaited the painful eruption of electricity against my skin but no, the blade took the impact.

“It is your's now,” the man said, with a devilish smile. “Master will be pleased that you have accepted your duty. You can turn back, but once you have done the deed you are one of us. Forever.”

I heard a snarl from behind me and turned, where the black stallion stomped his feet and howled against the wind. Cuentas. I could recognize him anywhere. His long mane looked just as young and soft as it was the day we had first met, and his nostrils flared in the cold wind, creating puffs of hot air as he whined for me to give him attention. I hoped onto the horse in one fluid motion, held the sword on my hand firmly and veered the horse towards my destination.

When I turned around the man was gone.

I galloped away on a horse, leaving behind Noleta, leaving behind me duty as a Guardian.

The horse was the fastest beast I had ever ridden. It growled as it pounded tore into the ground with its hooves and cut through the night like a vicious blade. I arrived at my massive, stone-build house that I had grown up in by midnight, the full moon stretched across the sky with lazy arms, God most likely was watching me thoughtfully, wondering if I was really about to do it, I was going to kill my Father.

I leaped off the horse and patted his muzzle. We locked eyes and I could see the beast understood me, knew it was the right thing to do. Redeem myself, my Mother for what my Father had done to me. I climbed the steps to the house and threw the door open. I made it to his room where nothing looked out of place. Did he still live in the house or was it a home to someone else? I searched through his things until I found what I needed. His cloak. I slipped it on, hurried, straddled the beast and tore through the wind again, through the woods, to the river where I knew he was, ravishing himself with a woman.

When I arrived I thought for a moment. Could he see me? I saw him by the water, standing under a tree barely dressed and looking as if he was waiting for someone. I took a deep breath and touched the sword that I had put to my side. I was only twenty feet away; my heart was in my throat. My Father’s eyes grazed over the water, then grazed over me. His eyes widened.

I took the sword off my side and told him quietly in Latin, “Father.”

“Son, you must forgive me what I have done to your mother.” There were almost tears in his eyes as he spoke. I had never seen him this emotional. His dark eyes raked up my cloak. My father explained how he thought I had died, he mourned over my death for years. I could tell he was in complete, utter shock. He told me I had grown into his image of a Champion.

I twired the the sword in my hand and asked him why my horse had brought me here. I wanted to kill him.

His eyes glazed over as he confirmed that I knew about my mother, about the constant beatings, about the lies. For some reason, I think I truly knew why I was there. I still wanted revenge. And I wouldn't leave until I recieved it.

He suddenly fell at my feet and begged for forgiveness. He said he was better, he had changed while I was gone. I shook my head with a small smile. I knew better, I didn’t know if he was lying or not, but I wouldn’t’ take the chance. I gripped the sword with a slight tremble and held it behind my head, as if readying myself for what I was about to do.

He begged for his life. He cried. He screamed. But he didn’t fight me. Nobody can fight Death. I told him why I had to kill him, told him what I was, told him how I knew about whom he killed and what kind of person he really was. In one fluid motion I slashed the blade in the air, not even blinking. His head rolled into the water and his body fell limp to the ground in front of me, twitching. Little did I know my father was not an easy one to kill.

My hand robotically shot in front of the body and my eyes closed. A burning hot orb of blue energy rose from my father’s unmoving back and seeped into my hand. It felt amazing. I felt no guilt. He deserved it.

I was a God.

As I bathed in the glory of the moment, I felt a slight pull on myself towards the ground. I buckled slightly and narrowed my eyes on the ground. A voice whipered into my head, almost guiding me through my first experience. It told me the spirit was tainted, not worthy of everlasting life in the castle of forever.

I slowly lowered my hand, flipped my palm towards the ground, and sent the soul straight to hell with a smile.

Another voice sent praise from behind me. I turned with the bloodied blade and faced the man who with the etchings across his face and dull grey eyes. His pupils dilated and then returned to a grey as he stared at the bloody blade. His eyes lifted to mine. For a second he looked scared. I must have looked wild, I hadn't realized my features had changed dramatically just from the use of the blade.

I was terrifying.

I stared at the blade in my hands and noticed my hands didn’t tremble. It was too easy to kill my own Father. I brought the blade to my face and stared at my reflection. It took me a long moment to register that it was myself and not a monster. The person stared back at me, the eyes haunting my very existance, the angles of my jaw and nose were like a statue, like someone had taken the time to carve each detail. I saw a flash of a wicked sharp-toothed smile.

I instantly dropped the blade and clutched my face. I thought I looked strange before? I looked normal before I killed my Father, before I commited the top three worst sins an Angel at my level could ever accomplish.

I killed my Father.

I abandoned an innocent whom I was sworn to protect.

I trusted what I would later find out was a Demon. A Demon of all things, the one type of creature I was sworn to kill on sight.

“What am I?” I screamed and scraped at the hard skin of my face. I was more frightening then I had been before. I wasn't me.

I grazed over the heavy cloak I wore to see it was a deeper black, like the man in front of me. I felt constricted in it, hopeless. A pain ignited all over my skin. I held out my hands in front of me and saw lines forming from my finger tips, traveling all the way up my body like spiders, twiling into symbols of my curse. I pulled up the sleeve of my cloak and saw my skin tan even deeper before my eyes become covered in black lines. I felt my wings that were tightly curled against my back grow dark, warm.

I was becoming worse than a Demon,worse than any of the deepest, darkest, most dreadful corners of Hell; a Fallen Angel.

The man picked up the sword I had threw on the ground and handed it to me with dark eyes. “You are Death,” the man in front of me whispered, a smile growing on his thin lips. “You settle the decision between Hell and Heaven.”

With a snarl, I grabbed the blade from him and pierced it through his heart. The man let out a gasp and then a gurgling sound. “I. Am. Not. Death,” I told him.

The man laughed and snaked the sword out of his chest, stood up, and brushed off his cloak which had no dark stain of blood. “They have no power over you anymore. You can do what you wish,” he said. He told me how I was free from my Father, free from the word. In a way I was helping the system of life. Bringing the souls that had actually worked to get into Heaven, not just got the ‘OK’ and the gates opened.

“The Devil has won you over. You must pair with him now,” the man said. I asked for his name one last time, maybe his name would confirm my decision.

“Bibliotheca,” he replied, a word which meant The Collector. He was a collector of souls that weren’t mean for Heaven, and collected recruits; he was a minion. He told me he was sent to bring the chosen one to the Devil so that life could begin the way it was suppose to. The horse the blades, the cloak, all held my power and also protect me. They still do. Except the sword is my scythe, and my horse is...well I'll tell you that some other time.

My brothers now think of me as a piece of garbage. Nolita was murdered that night, raped and then killed by a man who had found out about her fighting at the arena. I was sentenced to a trial by Gabriel, the Angel who had helped me from the beginning fight against my inner instincts to do wrong. He was more upset than I was when I stood in front of the Elders, my head down in shame.Gabriel would not make eye contacted with me.He didn't even say more then two words to me since I had returned to Heaven.

After two years of trial and withering in a atramentous room that I had ironically blended into like a Chameleon, being the laughing stock, the butt of every joke.

I remember two Archangels dragging me out of my holding cell and literally throwing me from heaven, head first to this hell-hole you people call earth. I hit the freezing cold water of the Pacific, sunk hundreds of feet into the water and then materialized myself on land, completely naked and ice cold. My wings grew black a deep charcoal after six centuries of feeling empty, alone, wondering around earth and having no clue how to start over. If I didn’t have other fallen Angels like myself, I honestly don’t know where my sanity would be right now.”



*********



Taaaaa daaaa!!! :)))



I'm not going to say it again. LISTEN. TO. THIS. SONG. This is the DIMBFF THEME SONG!!! The whole story is based of of this and "Dance with the Devil" from the same band. XD

DON'T MAKE ME REGRET NOT SPLITING UP THIS CHAPTER! HAHA.

No really. LiStEn To ThE sOnG... O_O