Chapter III: Sinister Intentions
“Oh! And by the way,” said Nissa shrilly. “I’m
not seventeen. I’m twenty-three.”
“Oh,”
said Azrael. Was she mad about something?
Azrael
flicked on one of the light switches in his office to reveal a spacious room.
There was a desk at the far end opposite the door and to the left were two
couches organized around a short, rectangular coffee table. To the right of the
desk, Azrael had a collection of weapons on his wall including guns, swords,
and experimental weapons of his own modification.
Nissa
crossed the room and sat on one of the couches crossing her legs. She turned
her back to Azrael and folded her arms.
“Hey,”
Azrael said to her, “you said that Omens choose their own way to use their
power, right? What made you choose belly dancing?” Azrael asked, placing his
sword on the wall. He then sat down at his desk shuffling some paperwork.
“Well,
actually,” began Nissa, warming up a bit, “I didn’t choose belly dancing. My
mistress did.”
“Mistress?”
Azrael dropped the paperwork into one of his drawers. He then pulled out a
rather old and huge book out of another drawer. “What do you mean?”
“Well,
don’t you have a master that you learned how to fight from?”
“Oh!”
said Azrael, flipping through the dry pages. “That kind of mistress!”
“Yes, that
kind of mistress. Well she recognized me as an Omen and took me as an
apprentice; and she was a belly dancer, so that’s how I learned to use my
powers. You’d be amazed at what I can do.”
“I’m
sure,” he replied, looking through the old book. “Let me see; L-M-N-ah ha! O!”
Azrael scanned the pages quietly in a foreign language that Nissa couldn’t
understand.
“I’m
hungry,” she said after a while.
“I
have some jerky in a drawer over here.”
“Jerky?”
“It’s
a good source of protein and doesn’t rot. And it’s tasty. Want some?”
“I
guess so.” Nissa slipped off the couch and walked over to Azrael’s desk as he
pulled a bag of jerky out of a drawer.
“Teriyaki
flavored,” he said, giving her the bag.
“Ooh,”
replied Nissa sarcastically. “Got anything to drink?”
“Vodka,
whiskey… or tap water.” Azrael took two bottles, one clear and the other brown,
from another drawer.
“Such
illustrious choices.”
“There’s
no need to get lippy.”
“Sorry.
Just a little agitated. I guess I’ll take the tap water.”
“Both
the faucet and glass are in the bathroom, though you may want to clean it
first.”
“Where is the bathroom?”
“Through
the door next to the wall-o-death.”
Nissa
walked past the desk, through the door beyond the wall, and up a staircase to
the second floor where there were two rooms. One was the bathroom; the other
was Azrael’s bedroom.
While
passing his bedroom, Nissa had an urge to explore it a bit. After all, he did say she could have the bed. She
paused at the door, but decided not to go in since she thought she might be
betraying his trust. Nissa wanted to be on his good side. And she had a feeling that if Azrael caught
her, he would use the reason that she didn’t want it as an excuse to throw her
out.
While
Nissa got her water, Azrael moved his fingers over the Latin text of the old
book quickly being able to read, write, and speak it fluently. The book was a
full history on all the slayer families in the world from the year 2012 AD to
2900 AD written by the Maleiorcum. He didn’t remember why he had it, or when
the last time he looked at it, but he was happy to have it now. Had it been
Grand Master Alaric who suggested taking it with him? And why?
Now
that Azrael really thought about it, he couldn’t remember why he had left. He
knew he had a reason, but after three years of almost perpetual boredom, his
reason seemed to have faded away.
But
that wasn’t important right now. What was important was finding the Omens,
which he couldn’t. There were hardly any “O” family names and most weren’t true
demon slayers.
There
were two kinds of demon slayers: charismatics and normal humans. Charismatics
had gotten their powers, known as charisms, as gifts from Hyperion that were
either passed down through the family, given to a person at baptism with the
intention of becoming a demon slayer, or after a person had proven themselves
worthy and sworn the demon slayer’s oath. For normal humans however, killing a
demon was almost impossible. It involved a lot of praying, sacraments and
sacramentals, and using regular weapons. Often times, exorcists were extremely
helpful.
In the
end however, Azrael couldn’t find the Omens. As far as he could tell, they
didn’t exist, and the book he was using was supposed to be a complete history. “‘Complete’
my ass,” he said disdainfully, dropping the book back into its drawer. He took
a swig of whiskey and shoved some jerky in his mouth.
Just
then there was a knock at the door. Azrael looked at a clock he had on the
wall; it said 22:30. It was later than he thought. “We’re closed!” he shouted.
The knocker persisted.
“Mr.
Chaos?” came a familiar voice. “I have your money and weaponry.” It was
Cromwell. And at the mention of money, Azrael hurried to the door. “Ah! Mr.
Chaos,” said the familiar pierced face of Cromwell.
“Hello.
You have my pay?” asked Azrael, trying to hang onto his manners. “And my
guitar! I had completely forgotten.”
“Yes,”
answered Cromwell. “Turns out my manager had some money set aside for you
before he was murdered. I also have Miss Omen’s payment, but she didn’t leave a
forwarding address. Do you know where she is?”
“She’s
here,” replied Azrael. At that, Nissa came back from the stairs holding a tall
glass of water.
“Good
evening,” said Cromwell, bowing his head.
“Good
evening.”
“Very
well, then.” From inside his jacket, Cromwell took out two short stacks of cash
and handed them to Azrael. He then handed Azrael his guitar case with his
bloody guitar in it. Before forgetting, Azrael gave Cromwell the contact
information for the exorcist he had mentioned earlier.
“Good
night,” bid Cromwell, who bowed again and left.
Azrael
dropped the case and guitar right next to the door knowing that it would have
to be fixed and cleaned after what it had sustained. He took a small vial of
clear liquid out of his pocket and sprinkled the guitar case with it making
smoke rise from the blood. He then walked back to his desk where Nissa was
standing gnawing through a small piece of jerky.
Azrael
dropped Nissa’s payment on the desk in front of her and returned to his chair
and counted his own. Five hundred total. He should’ve taken the thousand he’d
been offered. But then Azrael had to remind himself that slaying jobs weren’t
done for profit. The Order carried them out as if they were sacraments slaying
demons for free. Despite that, Azrael’s services still had its expenses: ammo,
weapon maintenance, medical supplies, food and water. And since Azrael was in
the city, he had to pay taxes and bills on his shop. No one became a demon
slayer to get rich.
“Can
you hold onto this for me?” asked Nissa, breaking the silence.
“What?”
“I
want you to hold onto some of my money for me since I can’t carry it all,” she
said, pushing three-fourths of her pay to him.
He
picked it up and added it to his own placing it all in a pocket in the inside
of his jacket.
“Thanks.”
“No
problem.”
Nissa
then stood up and hid the rest of her money somewhere in her costume. Azrael
had averted his gaze when she did, not sure he wanted to know where she hid it.
Nissa
took another piece of jerky and started working at it. She seemed to be
thinking about something. Azrael watched her. Even though she looked somewhat
troubled and was unceremoniously chewing at a piece of jerky, he still thought
she was awfully cute.
“Azrael?”
“Hm?”
“Where
did the name ‘Maleiorcum’ come from? I mean, words with the prefix male- are
often evil, like malevolent.”
“Well,
have you ever seen a Maleiocur?”
“No.”
“They’re
sort of terrifying at first glance. To some people during the Oppression, they
looked like distorted or wicked jesters beneath their cloaks. Someone who
didn’t have a very good grip on Latin created the word ‘Maleiocur’ from the
Latin words ‘malus,’ ‘iocus,’ and ‘vir.’ ‘Malus’ means ‘evil,’ ‘iocus’ is ‘joke,’
and ‘vir’ is ‘man.’ The creator slapped the three words together into
‘Maleiocur’ trying to create a Latin word for ‘wicked jester.’”
“And
that stuck?”
“Yep.
Someone did try to rename them ‘Benesapien,’ which means ‘good sage,’ but it
didn’t work. They eventually took on the word ‘Maleiorcum’ as the plural and
they gave it its own noun declensions in Latin too. I can tell you them if
you’re interested.”
“No,
thanks. But that’s pretty interesting. So, what happens now?”
“I go
to bed,” replied Azrael, taking another gulp of whiskey.
“I
mean, what happens now in life?”
“Well,
I was thinking of going to the library.”
“Why?”
“Research.”
“Research
what?”
Azrael
made a vague gesture. “Things. Origins. Mostly.”
“Origins
of what?”
“People.”
Nissa
gave him a hard look. “Do I want to know what you’re hiding?”
Azrael
shrugged. “It wouldn’t hurt if you dropped the subject.”
“I’ll
go ahead and do that then.”
“Good.
Actually, it would make a good excuse for going back to the library. I haven’t
needed to do any real research since I moved down here.”
“Down
here?”
“I
used to live in the mountains. The Austrian Alps is actually where the Head Monastery
of the Order is located.”
“Really?
I had heard that it was close, but I didn’t think it was that close.”
“You’ve
heard of the Maleiorcum before I mentioned them?”
“Anyone
who has heard of the Chaos family has heard of the Maleiorcum. And how rare do you think demon slayers really are?”
“There
were a lot more of us a generation ago. But, this all begs a good question,”
said Azrael, starting to look at her in a new light. “Where do you get
your information from?”
“My
mistress.”
“What
was your mistress’ name?”
“Mistress
Giry.”
“Giry
what?”
“Just
Giry.”
“Just?”
“Well,
she may have had a full name, but I never asked nor was it mentioned.”
“Hmm…
Well, in the light of that development, I’m going to sleep.”
Azrael
corked his whiskey and put it back in the drawer with the vodka. He also put
back the jerky after Nissa swiped one last piece. He then walked over to the
closest couch and sat at the far end.
Nissa
choked down the jerky and chugged the water down impressively. She then walked
over to the couch and considered it for a moment.
Azrael
looked at her. “What?”
“I… I
usually sleep in the nude,” she replied.
Azrael
gave her a hard look as if to say, ‘Bull shit!’ Instead he cracked a smile and
said, “Don’t tease me.”
Nissa couldn’t help but smile back. And with a
shrug, she lay down on the couch curling her body slightly and laid her head in
Azrael’s lap which quite surprised him.
“Well,
if you’re going to insist on sleeping down here with me, I don’t want you to
freeze.” Azrael stood up, removed his gloves, and took off his jacket, dropping
it on Nissa. It landed on her heavily. He sat back down, loosened his boots,
and kicked them off without any grace sending one up and over the coffee table
and the other landing behind the other couch. He put one of his arms on the
rest and his other on Nissa as she cuddled up with his thigh. But there was one
last moment of shenanigans.
Nissa
pinched Azrael’s leg, saying, “Good night, Azrael.”
“Good
night, Nissa.”
***
The
next day, Azrael woke up with a crick in his neck and a stiff back. He looked
at Nissa and she seemed quite content next to him. He pried his leg from her
grip and opened up shop. The clock read 8:30.
Azrael
again took out the jerky and whiskey from the night before, and had breakfast.
At
about 8:45, Nissa woke up with a yawn. She got up and pulled Azrael’s jacket
closely around herself. “One of the best night’s rest I’ve ever had,” she said,
walking over. “I think it was your thigh as my pillow.”
“I
think it was the jacket,” Azrael responded.
“What
makes you say that?”
“It
was blessed by the Maleiorcum. There are some interesting blessings on that
thing.”
“Like?”
“Mostly
to revitalize the body, mind, and soul, and to defend against harm done to the
body and mind.”
“So,
it’s armor?”
“Yeah.”
“Do
your clothes do anything special?” she asked.
“Well,
they’re mostly responsible for regulating your body temperature and the duster
does help, but its main purpose is defense.”
“Oh.”
Just
then, there was a knock on the door.
“Come
in,” said Azrael.
The
door knob turned and in walked a man in about his late-sixties looking slightly
worn down, like a member of the proletariat. Azrael noticed a slight slouch in
his back and a limp. His eyes had bags under them and his nose was long. As he
was half way across the room, he noticed Nissa in Azrael’s jacket.
“Is
now a bad time?” asked the man in a soft voice.
“I
said ‘come in,’ didn’t I?” asked Azrael, standing up.
“I
could have imagined it.”
“Well,
you didn’t. Now, what can I do for you?”
“Well,
I’m not sure if I’m in the right place for a start. Is this the Chaos Demon
Slaying Company?”
“Well,
not very many people call it that anymore, but yes, it is.”
“I
have a demon problem,” said the older man bluntly. “It’s taken over the house.
It chased us out three days ago and has been occupying the house ever since.”
“How
did it get in?”
“I
don’t know. My wife and I were just sitting in the living room one day, and we
heard someone coming down the stairs. We looked up, and it was a demon!”
“What
does it look like?”
“It’s
about seven feet tall, yellowish-grey skin, scrawny limbs and body, huge
bulbous red eyes, claws for hands and feet, a tail, large mouth with a lot of
fangs, and spikes all over its body.”
“Interesting.
Most demons aren’t that detailed. Did it say anything?”
“Not
really. There was something about a mission and a woman in black.”
“A
mission?” Azrael glanced at Nissa and began to wonder if this demon had
anything to do with Mephisto from the night before. “I’ll take the case, but
I’ll need an address and probably a house key if one is available.”
“You
won’t need a key,” said the man. “The demon didn’t bother to close the door
after us. Sometimes we can see him in there pacing the ground floor mumbling to
himself. He never leaves.”
That
was certainly peculiar. If this demon was related to Mephisto in some way, why
hadn’t it come for Nissa? Was it an apathetic demon? While most demons had rejected
humanity and Hyperion, there were some who had rejected Diabolus as well. Was
it possible that this one had overheard the plan, was about to carry it out,
remembered its apathy, and then just didn’t leave? Farfetched to say the least,
but nothing was impossible.
“Um…”
faltered the man.
“Huh?
Oh!” said Azrael, coming out of his train of thought. “I’ll drop by later this
morning.”
“When?”
asked the man.
“As
soon as I can,” said Azrael. “Where do you live?”
“6234
West Flight.” The old man cast one more look at Nissa, then back to Azrael
before leaving.
Nissa
asked, “What was he looking at?”
“A
beautiful girl in a man’s jacket cinched around her like she’s not wearing any
clothes.”
Nissa
clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. “So, we have a job?”
“We?”
“Yes,
we.”
“I
wasn’t thinking of taking on any partners.”
“Good
thing I’m joining you regardless of what you say.”
“Brazen.
May I ask why?”
“Of
course you can, but that doesn’t mean I have to answer.”
“Is
that revenge for last night when I wouldn’t answer your question?”
“Not
especially, but it’s a good idea. So, when do we leave?” she asked, taking a
piece of jerky.
“Can
you go outside in those clothes?”
“I
walked here from the club like this, didn’t I?” said Nissa, shedding Azrael’s
jacket.
“Then
right after I put my boots, jacket, and gloves on, and re-arm. And after I hit
the bathroom. Drinking does that to you.”
Once
Azrael had returned from the water closet, he got his effects together, and
they were on their way to the old man’s house. They walked there since Azrael
didn’t have a car.
It was
about 9:15, but there weren’t very many people out. And although the sun
shined, it was still very dim. Master Schylar, the Order’s scholar and
historian, told Azrael this was caused by the invasion of demons into the
world. Depending on how many demons there were on Earth was reflected by the
darkness of the smog. Master Schylar told him that the smog was slowly thinning
and that it had been much darker almost a millennium ago. Back then, the sun
had been completely blocked out for two years. It caused a great deal of damage
and dismay.
Azrael
and Nissa didn’t talk much on the way, but when they got there, Nissa started
asking questions. “So what do we do?”
“Slay
the demon,” replied Azrael.
“I
mean besides that.”
“Liberate
a household from the tyranny of the Devil’s companions.”
“I
mean besides that.”
“If
you’re hoping for more, you’re in the wrong business.”
“So…
what? Do you think it’s a big job?”
“No,”
replied Azrael. “I don’t even think I’ll need the guns I brought. Sounds like a
lower level, apathetic demon. Should be an easy job.”
They
found the house at the end of a block and peered through the door from outside.
From inside they could hear mumbling and grumbling along with foot falls. Then
the demon passed by the doorway. Nissa let out a small squeal of fright and
quickly covered her mouth.
“It’s
hideous!”
The
demon passed by again and it looked exactly like the old man had described.
Then they heard it climbing stairs. Azrael walked up to the door and pushed it
open a bit. He squatted down and poked his head through a little. He saw the
demon head upstairs and then disappear into a room on the left. It quickly
reappeared and then walked down the hall into more rooms and came out again.
Eventually it returned to the stairs and Azrael backed out.
Azrael
and Nissa watched the demon do this for half an hour. They looked in through
different windows making sure not to be seen and observed the demon just wander
around aimlessly.
“Talk
about the sin of sloth,” said Nissa after a while.
“Indeed.”
Azrael picked up a rock from the street. The demon passed by the front door
again, but not before Azrael had chucked the rock at its head. The rock hit its
mark, ricocheted off, and landed in a chair in the living room. The demon
stopped for a second or two, but didn’t look to see what had happened. It then
started pacing the house again.
“Hmm…”
thought Azrael. “Ready to go in?”
Nissa
nodded.
This
time, when the demon went up the stairs, Azrael and Nissa followed it. But,
when it had emerged from the first room, it didn’t see them coming up the
stairs and kept on walking. It wasn’t until after it was coming out of the
furthest room back to the stairs did it see them on the landing and
acknowledged their presence by stopping. It held its mouth open for a minute or
two just staring at them. Nissa was greatly disturbed by this. Azrael thought
it was a bit creepy himself.
“What
are you doing here?” asked Azrael finally.
The
demon didn’t reply.
“Hyperion
got your tongue?”
At the
mention of Hyperion’s name, the demon started to scream in anguish. Nissa
grabbed Azrael and hid behind him. When the demon had stopped, it stood there
again, returning to stare down Azrael.
“How
did you get in here?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why
did you chase out the old man and his wife?”
“Chase?
They fled.”
“Why
are you here?”
“To
search for the girl that his Darkness wants.”
“You’ve
been master of this house for three days and you’ve done nothing. Why?”
“I
don’t know…”
“Are
you one of those demons who are apathetic toward both Diabolus and—?”
“Don’t!”
shouted the demon. “But... probably.”
“Who
is the girl that you’re looking for?”
“Some
young woman donned in black who can move her hips like a pendulum.”
“Riveting,”
commented Azrael. “This is getting real old real fast.” Azrael reached behind
himself and pulled Nissa out into the open, asking, “Is this the girl?”
The
demon’s eyes lit up. “That’s her! The one his Darkness wants.”
The
demon started to move toward Nissa. But she locked eyes with him stopping him
in his tracks. She popped her chest sending the demon flying down the hall and
crashing into the wall behind him.
Azrael
pushed past Nissa and charged forward. As the demon was getting up, Azrael grabbed
it by the head and gave one violent twist. There was a snapping of bone and the
light disappeared from the demon’s eyes as it died.
Nissa
let out a sigh of relief. “That was easy.”
“Lower
level demons often are.” Azrael picked up the demon’s body and threw it over
his shoulder.
As
they were leaving, the old man came running up to them. “You did it! You really
did it!”
“‘Course,”
said Azrael. “It was a snap.”
“Fantastic!
But I don’t have very much to pay you with.”
“Don’t
worry about it. This job is on the house.”
“Really?
Why is that?”
“Don’t
worry about it.”
The
old man didn’t protest. He merely thanked them and ran back into his house.
Azrael
and Nissa then found an alley where Azrael threw the demon body down, and
pulled the vial with the burning liquid from inside his jacket. The demon
immediately erupted into fire when sprinkled with the contents.
“What
is that?” asked Nissa, taken aback.
“A combination of holy water, sacred salt, and exorcised oil. Demon bodies don’t
agree with it.”
“Why
did you do the job for free?”
“The
Order insists that slaying demons is a free service provided by the Order.
We’re only allowed to charge for expenses, but not the work itself. Since I
didn’t fire my guns, there were no expenses that needed to be paid.”
“Huh.
Well, unfortunately for you, I’m not part of the Order, so I can make a
profit.”
Azrael
snorted. “Gonna buy a nice little cottage with all that demon slaying money
you’ve got sitting in the metro bank?”
“Regardless,”
said Nissa, “I do have expenses of my own. If you can’t tell, there are places
on this skirt where it has been mended before. So how do you expect to pay your
partner when you do a job for free?” she teased.
“You’re
my partner,” Azrael replied. “Not my assistant. Go find your own jobs.”
“Ouch.
How about a foot rub?” she said with a wink.
“Maybe.”
When
Azrael and Nissa returned to the shop at about 10:00, there were actually four
people standing around outside of it.
“What’s
all this?” asked Azrael.
“We
require the aid of a competent demon slayer!” exclaimed what looked like the
richest one.
“Huh. Well, I am Azrael Chaos,” said Azrael to the group there. “This is my partner, Nissa Omen. How may we be of service?”
***“Huh. Well, I am Azrael Chaos,” said Azrael to the group there. “This is my partner, Nissa Omen. How may we be of service?”
“It was dark—it had always been dark.”
Azrael Chaos is a demon slayer for the Order of the Maleiorcum. While on a job, he meets the beautiful Nissa Omen who can control the minds of others with her dancing. After discovering a plot enacted by the forces of Hell that centers on Nissa, Azrael takes her to the monastery where he completed his training to protect her. But things become more complicated when Azrael’s old rival and suspected demon general, Mammon Zebulun, takes an interest in her.
Before the forces of darkness can execute their dastardly plan for world domination and turn the tide against God’s holy warriors, Azrael must face the faults in his faith and find the strength necessary to save Nissa.
Let the Gothic Epic begin.
***
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