Chapter 8

An inch. Just an inch away. So close. Asmodeus could feel it, he imagined what could have happened. How the blood would've been oozing out of Abi's chest. But it wasn't thanks to the angel holding onto Uriel's wrist. Michael had arrived just in time to grab Uriel and stop him from delivering the fatal blow. Asmodeus felt his heart skip a beat once Michael had appeared. Asmodeus was still paralyzed and helpless as he lay on the ground, a huge sigh left him when the sword is snatched away.

Uriel snapped his eyes to Michael's blank expression, he snatched his wrist back and glared at Michael, "What do you want?" He mumbles.

Michael narrowed his eyes at his disrespectful tone but he disregarded it either way. He crossed his arms "Let's go." That was all he said, monotonous like always.

"No. I'm busy, Michael." Uriel snapped back and averted his attention back to Abi.

"I have to kill her." He told Michael, determined.

Michael ignored his claim and said commandingly, his voice low, "I said, Let's go."

"And I said, No!" Uriel spat back. Michael realized that Uriel was furious right now. A furious Uriel was stubborn and ignorant. So there was no hope in him listening and Michael didn't have time to waste with this childish behavior of his. He shut his eyes and sighed exasperatedly.

Before Uriel could move, Michael placed a hand on his shoulder and in a flash they disappeared from the world.

Asmodeus blinked, once then twice, absorbing the sudden silence. The two angels had disappeared into thin air again. His brows furrowed in confusion. Where did they go? Aw, crap, why did he care? Asmodeus groaned and became limp. Mentally and physically drained. It was an odd night.

Uriel and Michael popped in the middle of the busy center of the Capital's square situated near the palace. Uriel growled once it dawned on him that they were in the angelic realm. He swirled around to glare at Michael's blank expression, "Why the hell would you do that?! Didn't you see that I was busy?!" He yelled, which caught the attention of some of the passing angels. Michael had his eyes narrowed in calm rage, his arms crossed. He observed his brother rage.

"Why do you have to control everything I do?! You saw I was occupied, I had a task to complete! I was so close to freeing my human and you just came there and ruined everything!" Uriel flailed his arms wildly. Michael however did not respond to him and so there was an intense silence as the two glared at each other as if in competition.

Michael blinked and blatantly ascended into the sky a little more until he was above Uriel, "If you're done then follow me." He ordered. He then flapped his large wings and flew towards the palace.

Uriel tsked and rolled his eyes. He then realized that all eyes were on him. He'd caught the attention of the angels near him. They stared, baffled that a prince would be so disrespectful as to raise his voice to his elders. Although appalled at his actions they showed the necessary respect by politely bowing their heads when Uriel looked their way. Uriel clenched his jaw and followed suit, silently and shamefully trailing behind Michael.

~~~~

After the fourth great supernatural war six thousand years ago the demonic realm had become an eerie ghost town, the farm fields that used to breed scrumptious fruit were now scorched beyond repair, the houses and cottages had been damaged and close to breaking point, with worn-out wood and sewage spilling in the streets of the realm. The streets and passages were empty and smelt of decomposing corpses. The realm was in famine and needed resources had begun running out. That war had officially ended the realm, it had become a nightmare of suffering for the demons. The skies could no longer be seen as dark mahogany dust clouds lingered, the sun and moon no longer present in the realm, it was darkness day and night. Neither were there any seas or bodies of water, they had been dried out. The realm consisted of only crooked mountains and active volcanoes that would erupt every few hours. The lava would be one of the only sources of light as it spewed out into the streets.

There was the loud chanting of slave prices, rotting meat, and other disgusting things as the merchants and shopkeepers exchanged goods for gold in the streets of the realm. Some sold food close to expiration while others sold worn-out clothing, etc. The weather was like fire to the humans who were close to death already; stolen from their world; they wailed in agony; knowing they were truly in hell, it felt as if fire ants were crawling on their skin, the air burned their lungs as if they were smoking soot.

The demons didn't mind the excruciating weather, why, it was like a warm summer's day to them. They hung around their realm like vultures. Some sitting on the roofs of damaged buildings or hanging on old branches and shooting small firey bullets at the crows. Looting around the stores and chatting to one another. Buying meat and eating them raw. The poor demons sat on the side and begged, hoping to get bronze coins.

At the top of Mount Mortem, the tallest mountain in the realm stood an eerie dark palace. Everything was black, the walls, the passages, the hallways. All were dark with mahogany and rose-red carpeting. The palace gardens were dead and grey like a graveyard, not enough water for the plants. Dim candles and lamps lit the palace, it was quiet, demon guards and hounds by every gate stood on alert.

There was a convention being held in one of the large rooms near one of the castle keeps. The demon king, Draco, sat by the head of the large blackwood council table. His eyes were dark and formidable, his irises were a maroon-red color, and his pupils were in slits (a sign of rage). He wore a dark suit and had the look of a menacing beast observing prey. If looks could kill then all the bickering creatures in the room would be lying on the ground, lifeless.

His ninth wife, Lamia sat beside him. Her piercing crimson eyes observed the table in disgust and boredom; irritated to have to be near such inferior beings. Her large, merlot wings were folded behind her as she curled her finger around her red locks.

The witches and troll leaders were there. They'd been bickering for a while now and Draco had kept his silence, masking his rising anger and observing the idiotic creatures.

"We can't just barge into there like we own the place, we'll be killed in seconds!" The troll exclaimed to the witches.

"Oh please, your height of two point five centimeters already sets up your grave!" The witch insulted as she exaggerated the trolls' height.

"My what!?"

"You heard me!"

"You'd be useless in this invasion. Why are you even here!?" A witch yelled.

"You look like a toe with a latex allergy!" One of the trolls' councilors fought back.

"Shut up you fat cow!" Another witch fired back.

"Me? A cow?! Why you-"

Lamia rolled her eyes and glanced at her husband. She saw the death glare he held towards the creatures. He was highly irritated. Lamia abruptly stood up from her chair and addressed the council, "I advise all you bickering swine to keep your mouths shut, you're aggravating my husband." Her voice was powerful and it shut down the entire room. An intense silence crept in as the creatures lowered their looks. It wouldn't be a good idea to disrespect the demon king's queen.

Lamia glanced at her husband desperately for recognition and he gave her a satisfied smirk. A ghost of a smirk that only she could notice it. And it was all she needed to feel good as she sat back down proudly.

Draco glared at the creatures once more and his smile disappeared. "The angelic realm is impenetrable; they have surrounded the entire planet in a force field; angels don't just fly out into space, they use a teleportation machine controlled by one of their own. If we were to just enter there and declare war we'd be doomed to our deathbeds in seconds. Their king is too powerful. And he has his two sons as well. Killing him and destroying the realm is near to impossible." Draco explained cooly his hands crossed in front of him in thought.

"That is why we need someone who knows that place in and out. We need to capture an angel and torture it until we get answers. We need one of our people to infiltrate quietly and murder the king in his sleep." Draco outlined the plan.

"The question is, who." He asked and sweeped his eyes across the room. There was again another intense silence.

"Does anyone have any propositions?" He asked and narrowed his eyes. He clenched his jaw when he recieved no response. Oh, how he wanted to just kill all these things . The silence continued. The creatures looked anywhere except at him. They couldn't stand his mortiferous glare, it was too powerful. After a long silence, Draco cursed under his breath and abruptly stood up, heading towards the mahogany wooden doors.

"Dismissed." He muttered impatiently before stomping out the room. A wave of relief washed through the creatures once he left. They were glad he didn't kill them on the spot. He was the demon king of course. Lamia sighed, "Useless creatures." She hissed and followed after her husband, her sangria gown flowed like a sunflower dress behind her.

She found Draco in their bedroom. He was pacing around with his hands in fists and his wings dragged behind him like a bloody rag. He was in deep thought and upset.

"How did I end up asking inferior fools for help? I put down my pride to ask them for help and they have been like nothing but sitting ducks!" He growled.

"I have to find someone. Someone that is not soft-hearted like that worthless girl. Someone who can become an angel. But dammit, who!?" He continued.

"It's been years since I sent Phenex there and she hasn't reported back to me. They must have murdered her. They found out who she was and murdered the only daughter I was proud of." His voice held pain as he blabbered on.

All that went through Lamia's mind as she watched her husband was how delicious he looked. He had taken off his suit jacket, his shirt was tight on his body, tight enough to display his awesome physic. His dark hair was in a mess, the same as how it would look after nights of rough, sleepless nights. He looked mesmerizing.

"Someone needs to inflitrate the -"

"Oh honey. . ." Lamia cooed, her voice as smooth as honey as she sauntered to him and slid her hands from his masculine chest to the expanse of his shoulders. She wore a sexually-induced smirk but Draco wasn't having it. He glared at her, his anger masked by the intensity of his red orbs.

"Enough worrying," she tried convincing as she slid her hands down his strong abdomen and towards his crotch, her voice had become seductively low as she leaned towards his ear, "Let me relieve your stress, baby. . ." She whispered sensually and bit his earlobe. She was hungry and not for human flesh. She wanted him to ruin her like he did on those hot nights. And she believed he wanted that too.

She thought she'd won him over when she felt his large hand on the small of her back, her smile widened when his hand slid up her body, across the valley of her breasts and towards her neck. He moved his lips towards her exposed shoulder, pecking it lovingly. She definitely thought she'd won him over.

That was until he grasped her neck tightly and squeezed. His thumb pressing down on her larynx. She gasped for air and snapped her panicked eyes to his face. His gaze was firey and not the hot kind, his pupils were in thin slits and he clenched his jaw. He was furious. He tightened his grip and she thought he'd break her neck in two, she could barely breathe. He leaned towards her, their noses grazed against each other.

"Don't. Ever. Interupt me. Again. . ." His voice was dangerously low and raspy, his breath fanned across her face. With his large hand still grasping her neck, he shoved her away from him. Lamia squeaked as she landed on the mahogany carpet and gasped desperately for air. Draco stomped out of the room, fists and jaw clenched. His wings felt stiff and uncomfortable, something that happened when he was frustrated. His thoughts were in a frenzy. He had no time to play around. He had to find a solution to this problem.

He longed to destroy the angelic realm after what they'd done to his home. He was the demon king for goodness sakes! Although his mother was the sole cause for the fourth supernatural war. Now he was left to care for a dead kingdom in ruins. His revenge ran deep in his veins. It rushed through his coal-black blood and feuled his heart. His plan to ramage the angelic realm was close to completion.

His eldest daughter, Phenex, had gone silent after she'd entered the angelic realm. She might have been already murdered although she had the power to shapeshift. And Abi, his youngest was a failure of a demon already, she wouldn't be fit to murder. He needed someone to infiltrate the impenetrable fortresses. To get into the palace and murder the king.

Draco didn't realise however, that the answer was right in front of him.