36Hi guys. While writing, my latest chapter for another Jelsa multi-fic I was writing, Mr. Inspiration suddenly took over my mind and brainwashed my hand into writing something different for a change. Nox Arcana's Blood of Angels album and the DmC games are partly to blame. I was all "why not do another forbidden love cliché and make it unique?" and bam! This short story was born.
I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this. ^^
Disclaimer: I do not own ROTG, Frozen, or Devil May Cry.
… … …
Pillars of black and red metal scrape the dark evening sky. All was both still and unstill, the obscure hum and howl of the night creatures resonating through every nook and cranny of the City of Pestilence. In one area, through the deepest darkest corners of the heart of the city along the streets that held abandoned steam factories, crumbling buildings, and twisted pipes and spires, a demon wails and gurgles its last breath as a snow white blade of ice sliced through whatever that was left of its hideous body.
KADSKLDSAOJAWIHFNPSIAHFWJSAC!
A tall young lad… or so he appeared to be, twirled the broadsword he held in his hand and smirked. Cold air fogged from his nostrils as he glared down at the miserable creature with his ice-blue eyes. His teeth gleamed against the darkness in sinful beauty, meaning to add insult to the devil's bitter end. Through the dying demon's eyes, the image of a young man that radiated beauty and danger forever engraved his wavering memory.
"Sorry old fella…" he murmured in mock sincerity, his voice like silver mist both cruel and soothing. "Looks like you'll be taking an early vacation to the lower realms. Send me a postcard while you're at it."
His fallen enemy did not answer back.
The lad let out a playful boyish laugh. Though it sounded nonchalant and carefree, the eerie green light of the lamp post and the cold winds made the sound of his baritone voice echo through the streets in a haunted manner, sending chills to the lower demons' spines.
Trudge, trudge, trudge….
There was a conceited gait to his pace as he walked across the narrow alley. Maybe it was the fact that he had faced these kinds of settings before, or that he was a being who favored anarchy that the lovely sight before him did nothing to unsettle. He wiped the blood off his ink blue leather coat as he sheathed his broad sword on the scabbard secured on his back. He used his other hand to rake his piano fingers across his silvery mop of hair, before licking the non-existent blood off his thumb out of habit. Taking one long stride over the dead demon beneath him, a being that looked like a cross between an iguana and a dragon-fly, he walked towards the dark alleyway where his fallen enemy emerged. His lips began to form a small 'o', whistling just to amuse himself and fully aware that the 'Sweet Caroline' tune he was whistling was terribly off-key.
Smoke and sulfur clouded his line of vision as he pressed further into the darkness, away from the faint green light of the lamp from the streets behind him. Every once in a while, his booted foot would crunch against tetra packs, or tin cans, or foil packets… or the more disgusting ones like vomit or ooze. There was a funky stench that greeted him when he turned a corner, followed by an interesting mixture of feces, urine, garbage, bile, and blood which made him scrunch his nose a little. Hand prints of murky blue, green, and red painted the bricked walls of the buildings surrounding him, and at times, creatively drawn or written vandalisms of cuss words and vulgar images peeked through his peripheral vision whenever the faint light caught on it.
Strangely, he felt the urge to snicker upon seeing his name on another wall when he turned another corner. It was written largely across the black bricks in silver and blue, the paint possibly made from the blood of a heavenly being (or so he assumed, for the blood sort of smelled nice, or it might have been some fancy scented paint. He wasn't sure) saying that he was, and he quoted in his head "a damned bastard of a demon".
He raised his brows and whistled.
"Am I supposed to be insulted by this?" he snickered to himself. "That's… pitifully lame."
Before having time to formulate another question, a sound from behind his shoulder, somewhere between a hiss and a roar, zoomed towards his direction. He did not even flinch when he expertly drew the sword from his back in one swift motion and slew the monster that attacked him like how a batter hit his homerun. A pained and anguished cry reverberated through the dark alley, waking nocturnal creatures from their slumber as flocks fled their places and dotted the pitch black sky in darker spots of black and blue. Purple blood rained over him, some drops steaming over his hair and coat. He made an expression as if he was about to gag, but then his lips quickly formed into the crooked grin he was known for, followed by an annoyed groan when a splotch of purple fell on his black boot. He tried to shake off the sticky fluid, but it clung to him like liquid gum.
"Aw crud! This leather is expensive! #%# !" he grumbled loudly, taking out a black cloth from his inner vest to wipe the splat of demon blood off his boot. "Does it always have to be like this? Damn it!"
He felt an uncharacteristic cold air behind him, instantly feeling the presence of another demon ranking higher than him.
"Perhaps it's time to pay another visit to Lilith's Laundromat, Frost?"
He glared at the darkness found at the end of the alleyway and cursed some more, knowing that despite the absence of light at the far end, his demon eyes recognized the dark presence that loomed about, someone finding humor in his predicament.
"Screw you Kozmo!" he hissed, pointing an accusing finger at the presence he sensed. "I know it's you, you pansy dolt!"
A blood curdling chuckle answered him to his annoyance.
"Come out before I shove a mace up your ass!"
A tall dark figure emerged from the darkness seeming to be made of shadows with shoulders slightly shaking with glee. His razor sharp teeth gleamed in the light and his gold to silver eyes narrowed with pleasure upon seeing his least favorite demon in the world. He snapped his fingers and the shadows receded into nothingness, letting a little bit more light from the streets on both sides illuminate the complex alleyway that had once been the demon lad's dim path. The dark figure's features became more prominent, displaying ash-tinted skin and pointed black hair. The ends of his shadow cloak dragged behind him like a velvet cloak, and a faint ghostly hiss echoed through the walls while he approached the younger demon.
"And a pleasure seeing you too Jackson Frost," the shadow man grinned. "Tell me… how many more of your kin had you slaughtered with your own hands tonight?"
The Shadow Man's presence often intimidated most of the demons who ranked lower than him. But the younger demon was never daunted by his presence. In contrast, in spite of Jackson Overland's Frost distrust towards his own kind, the demon before him was the only other being he could ever consider coming close to a friend.
"More than your pea-sized noggin can count Pitch." Jack snorted arrogantly as he wiped the fresh blood off of his coat aloofly. "Told you I could kill a dozen with my hands tied behind my back."
Kozmotis Pitchiner the Shadow Demon shook his head from side to side, "You used your ice voodoo on the poor devils. That's hardly fair."
Jack tilted his head to the side and counted with his fingers, "They had fangs, poison, fire powers, wings, and smoking hot succubus chicks to try to lure me to my death. What I did was hardly unfair."
The snow-haired demon bent down and bit his thumb before drawing intricate symbols on the grimy ground. He fought to roll his eyes and smile in spite of himself. It had been five decades since he last saw his… friend, for lack of better description. He didn't know what Pitch was to him, and he guessed that the same went for the older demon before him.
"And stop calling my spells 'voodoo'. Gosh that sounds so lame…" he clicked his tongue while continuing his work.
"You are an A-class demon, Frost." Pitch rolled his eyes as he glided across him while waving him off, "Most of the kinsmen you've killed tonight are ranked amongst the likes of insects and worms." He turned slightly to the white haired demon with a mocking stare. "They're hardly any challenge."
Jack narrowed his eyes at Pitch and snorted. "Those were A-class demons I killed, Pitch. I could feed lower class demons to Toothless without wasting my time."
The Shadow Demon widened his eyes in mock surprise and made no effort to hold back his laughter.
"Shut up you old fart." Jack hissed as he sheathed his sword and conjured a spell circle beneath him. The blue light from the circle instantly vaporized the caked blood that stained his hair, skin, and clothes, and threw another accusing glance at his unlikely companion. "Aren't you supposed to be turning me in because I'm killing my own kind now?"
Pitch raised an amused brow before turning his back on the winter demon.
"I could if I was sane," Pitch murmured wickedly. "But since you believe I am demented, and I enjoy a little social disorder every once in a while, I'll pretend that I saw nothing tonight." The demon laughed slightly and threw a contorted grin in amusement. "Funny how demons are so adamant about social order after a thousand years. Makes me think we're trying to imitate the angels now. Bah!"
"You're acting like an angel by turning a blind eye on my killing spree, evil sandman." Jack snickered humorlessly. "I'd say you're beginning to turn your lot in with them."
"Watching the demonic monarchy going maniacal over a traitorous brat is worth the watch." The Shadow Demon grinned, raising a brow as if meaning to taunt Jack and failing. "Besides… have you ever seen a demon who doesn't enjoy a wee bit of chaos every once in a while?"
Jack huffed and made a cocky smirk as he slowly walked away, "You always say that old man."
"Angel, demon, man… I do not care what color or race you have to kill." Pitch hummed soberly. "So long as there is fear in the picture, I do not mind."
Jack snorted, "You and your obsession with fear." He shrugged, "Personally I think fear is kindah overrated."
"Careful Frost…" Pitchiner chortled. "A touch of fear in your system might make you eat those words."
The winter demon half-smiled. "No need." He paused a moment, his face blank and solemn. "I've no reason to fear anything anymore." And he finally turned his back on Pitch.
Silence ensued as both demons began to part ways. The air was thin and reeking of smoke and other unsavory fragrances, but such a stench was common in the Netherealm. If not the rancid odor of demon excretes, it would be the smell of the blood of demons' victims, man and angel alike.
But lately the Dark Realms reeked of a different pong of blood. For the past two years, the death toll of demons from all classes had sky-rocketed dramatically, filling the Netherealm with pools of gore and death. At first the demons of high ranking thought that the angels have infiltrated the Netherealm in spite of their 500 year truce… but recent rumors had spread that the killer had come from one of their own.
Jack knew the truth behind those rumors, because he knew that the rumours were true.
Three hundred years ago, he was no different from the Tormenters whose aim was to destroy mankind. He took wicked satisfaction in watching men bathe in blood, women suffer in slavery, and children cower in fear. He was responsible for countless deaths in the winter season, and among the higher ranks, he was a major contributor to man's immense death toll.
They dubbed him the Winter Plague, for he came quietly like a thief in the night. If there was one piece of mercy he granted his victims, if one considered it mercy at all, was that he would end their lives quickly in one strike… not because he pitied them, but because he was too lazy to do the torturing himself. He'd rather watch a man die slowly in the hands of another, or be a spectator to a woman brutally assaulted for her chastity before withering away. He would never find entertainment in watching children die slowly though… and he would reason out that watching the death of a child was as boring as watching worms copulating.
Aside from that, Jackson Overland Frost was just as cruel as any demon there was.
But it all changed on one unlikely night, when he was assigned to eliminate a Night Fury no more than twenty years old.
Don't! Don't kill Toothless… please… no, no, no, no….
The birth of a Night Fury, the unholy offspring of lightning and death, the legendary black dragon was a threat to the demon race, as their kind unlike others would not heed to the higher ranks. Their power could destroy the very Demon King himself, if given the time to age for a thousand years more. Lucien could not risk the existence of the baby dragon to destroy his eternal reign.
Thus, Jackson Overland Frost, the most daring hunter of the demonic race, was given the assignment to destroy it.
Don't kill him!
He closed his eyes and restrained from grimacing at the memory. Cold sweat trickled from his scalp down to his chin while his hands slightly trembled. Nothing unsettled Jack Frost but that one memory, and for a long time now, he had mastered burying the images of his past within the deepest darkest depths of his heart and mind. Taking a deep breath, Jack willed himself to shut out the image of a brown haired boy with his frightened green eyes. He battled the memory of the lad no more than fifteen years old, placing himself between the dragon and the demon, with an arm extended towards him in plea.
A storm raged outside the small cottage, and fire burned whatever that was left of their property. An auburn haired man and a brunette woman who took resemblance with the boy lay dead by the porch, blood and oil staining the planks and black murky ice coating the posts and ceilings. The baby dragon behind the human lad hissed in pain as inky fluid gushed out of the gaping wound a few inches near its jugular. A few hours more and it would lose blood if it were a regular dragon. But this was no ordinary spawn of the devil.
Don't kill him, please…
It was too late to eliminate the memory.
I beg you! Don't kill him! K-k-kill me instead…
Jack remembered the shameless tears and snot that dribbled down the boy's eyes and nose, using his own wounded body to shield his scaly friend from the white demon who killed his family. The teenager's eyes were bloodshot with fear, but his shaky legs stood its ground, refusing to yield to the horrifying presence of the very person who took everything away from him. He recalled his tattered clothes, stained with sweat, oil and blood, clinging to his body like secondary skin as he struggled to stand. His voice was garbled and hoarse, but despite the struggle for air, the lad used whatever was left of his might to scream out his plea.
Kill me instead… kill me instead… kill me instead…
He remembered the young man's bravery amidst the terror of losing everything he had, everything he hoped for, everything he held dear… to protect the black baby dragon responsible for his demise.
He didn't understand. Jack's eyes might have been blank, and his lips might have been pursed in a hard line of indifference that night… but inwardly a war raged within him while he held his sword high and ready to kill.
How could a human want to protect a demon?
A few seconds more, and Jack wold have dropped his sword in uncertainty. For the first time in forever… a demon lost the will to destroy.
And Lucien would have Jack Frost's head.
Kill me instead!
He killed the lad with one swift slash of his sword.
Don't kill Toothless.
It was the first time he ever regretted killing anyone as soon as the baby dragon roared a loud cry of sorrow.
Don't kill my best friend.
He spared the dragon's life that day and took it as his own. For years and years, the wide fearful eyes of the young lad he killed haunted him. He killed, and killed, and killed, and harvested as many souls of evil men and women as much as he could to rub the memory away. He tried to justify his belief that men deserved to be destroyed for their fickle nature…
He tried to find rhyme and reason to why he killed the boy and spared the life of the demon he was sent to destroy. He tried to understand as he raised the dragon in secret, willing himself to apprehend what the lad saw in the creature's eyes.
And there in the eyes of the Night Fury… he saw the same eyes of the boy he killed.
And Jack's view towards mankind…. changed.
"I don't see the point of taking their lives anymore, Kozmo."
"A demon with a conscience? I could mistake you for an angel."
"Shut up."
Through the dragon's eyes he saw the truth of the corruption of demons, not that he hadn't known of their corruption from the start… But he had understood the injustice of what his race had inflicted upon a race that extended kindness towards his own. Sometimes he thought himself demented whenever he laughed towards the night sky of how twisted his new convictions have influenced him. Pitch was right to say that he thought like an angel for even having a conscience… but every time he reasoned out that it was the only way he could put the boy's memory to the grave. To make matters worse, raising Toothless had become both his blessing and curse, for the dragon's eyes and fire would forever haunt him of the boy who begged to spare the creature's life. The boy who would have had the chance to grow and find a woman and bear children… the boy who would have died of old age to smile upon a life well lived…
He took the boy's future away with one strike of the sword.
Never before had Jackson Frost resent being one with the darkness. And the only way he could ease the torture of the lad's memory… was to slaughter the race that vowed to destroy the one thing that boy swore to protect.
Protect Toothless… protect Toothless… please…
He was the traitor. The demon who hunted demons. The devil who took the side of the humans.
"I have to warn you though Frost," the Shadow Demon said before Jack had walked too far.
The Winter Demon paused and looked back at his unlikely companion over his shoulder.
"Lucien is on to you," Kozmotis Pitchiner said grimly. "Once his suspicions are confirmed, don't expect me to lend a helping hand."
"I know." Jack answered before he vanished into cold blue vapor.
… … …
"This man named… Haddock," the angel murmured. "He died at the hands of a demon… to save a demon?"
The angel wrapped in pure white light let out a thoughtful breath as she scanned the contents of the Scrolls of Elda. Being the child of one of the Archangels of Tsar, she was blessed with the gift of Sight, a power that allowed her to see visions of the past, present, and future. And her clairvoyance had told her that a future beholds her within the writings of the Scrolls of Elda which kept records of the things that passed, her eyes falling on one of the most momentous events in the history of mankind.
"Why would the son of Haddock risk his life for a dragon?" she murmured to herself. "Aren't dragons the ones who tried to kill his ancestors?"
She shook her head as she rolled the scroll close and sighed. She craned her neck and stood from her perch across the marble couch and stretched her arms. Peering up at the everlasting sky with eyes that were as blue as the morning heavens, she whispered a silent prayer of inquiry but found no answer. She surveyed the large roofless library, watching as the vines and flowers spiralled upward to catch drops of dew that fell from the unknown heights. She bit her lower cherry lip and inhaled, fixing the wrinkles of her tunic to distract herself from the confusions that gnawed at her mind, if only a little.
She found it hard understanding what the sacrifice of one young lad for another demon would relate to her future. Firstly she was taught that demons were her kin's enemies, coming from a line of rebellious angels who fell to the Netherealm after waging war against Tsar. She was taught to see them as evil, as a threat to the humans that the angels were sworn to protect. She even took an oath in her eighteenth year to destroy any demon she saw on sight, before it was given a chance to inflict evil upon men.
But why would a human risk his life for a demon whose sole purpose was to destroy them? She didn't understand. And to seek answers about the event would only lead her to further ruin. She had tried asking her father Uriel, even her mother Shaina, and she was sure as day that her little sister Anna would know none of it. The story of the Son of Haddock's death was taboo, and those who knew of the story dared not speak a word about it.
But their foreboding did not quench her thirst for knowledge. If anything, she was calm as a river and collected as the nocturnal forest. But her will was as relentless and strong as the walls that protected the Heavenly realms. No matter what the cost, she was determined to get the answers.
Unfurling her wings, she let the crisp and clean air whisk her away from the Lexicon to the fluffy clouds above. Her braided platinum hair whipped about her as she spun, her sparkling white tunic flailing about and exposing a little of her creamy skin of legs and arms. Decency wasn't much of an issue in the Heavenly Courts, for the angels' thoughts were pure, and she knew enough not to fly like a wild bird when any male eye is present to see her unkempt as she was now.
Her laughter echoed through the vast expanse of sky, music to the ears of every areal creature that encountered her. Her wings sparkled like glitter, yet at the same time appeared soft to the touch, flapping mightily against the strong winds of the East. A smile graced her lips as she dove, feeling the wind whip against her heart-shaped face as pictures of the sky islands became clear in her line of vision
Beneath her was the Fleurdelis, a mighty palace of gold and silver that housed the mightiest angels of the Heavenly Realms. Its towers were made of bricks of white and blue gemstones, and its walls were of gold and platinum silver. Its streets were also that of gold, and rivers ran not across the ground, but everywhere, like aerial rivers that flowed through the eternal sky. Trees and plants of every kind embellished every side, its leaves, flowers, and fruits glowing against the light in a myriad of bright and pastel hues. Globes of light hovered across the skies, surrounded by smaller lights that twinkled like the stars, and cherubs flew from across her, greeting her with a reverend curtsey.
Every time she gazed upon her home, a smile often played across her face. The Fleurdelis and its people embodied everything she believed in: faith, hope, and love, and to gaze upon it was enough to soothe the wary soul. This was the place where she wanted to stay forever, for it was both her refuge and strength. This was Home.
She swooped down towards the particular turret that cradled her chambers, and soon found herself entering her room through her window. She folded her wings until they dissolved into her body in icy blue light before pausing to gaze upon the sanctuary that was her room one last time.
One last time... For the Sight told her that the Fleurdelis in all its peacefulness and beauty was not her place. She did not want to leave... But she must.
An angel gifted with The Sight was often hunted by the Demon King, for those with The Sight foresaw what deceptions and malevolence the darkness often plotted against the salvation of mankind. And though her father claimed that the Archangels were powerful enough to shield her from every evil offense, she was positive that her stay would bring chaos and ruin to the one place she called Home.
She must leave, swiftly and quietly. It was the only way to keep her family safe.
Toc, toc, toc...
"Elsa?" she heard her sister through her ivory door. "Elsa, are you there?"
She kept her mouth shut, fighting the tears that stung her eyes as she began sealing the things she needed within the marks made of light across her body. Her footsteps were light as a feather, and she was known for her excellent ability to stay unnoticed. But somehow her little sister Anna would always be able to sense her presence. No matter how careful or quiet, Anna would always know she was there. She guessed that it was probably because she was her sister, for it was the same thing with Anna for her. She would also sense her little sister's presence, not only because her sister was clumsy as a troll… but because she just simply knew she would be there. It was a sister thing perhaps…
Leaving her tore her apart more than she'd care to admit.
"Elsa you've been gone all morning," Anna murmured timidly from outside her room. She could her the longing in her voice, accentuated by the tapping of a fingernail against the wood of the enchanted door. "I've been looking everywhere for you. Are you okay?"
She spoke no word, biting her lips as she stood facing the large open window. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, fighting the urge to open the door and welcome her in… for the purpose of saying goodbye.
But she knew herself well. If she granted herself that small chance to see her sister, she might find a thousand more reasons to stay.
She squared her shoulders and took another deep breath. With a determined resolve, she summoned her magnificent wings and looked to the big window that beckoned her departure.
Once she flies out of her tower, there was no turning back.
"Elsa?"
Elsa, angel of winter light took a deep breath as a lone tear fell down her smooth left cheek. It would have been easier if Anna was out of the picture. The year she had known she possessed The Sight and The Cold, she was forced to withdraw from her Anna, much to her little sister's dismay. There were countless risks to be too closely attached to one such as her, for Lucien was cunning and devious and would have his way one way or another. Her only comfort was that once the Legion of Angels won the Millennial War, she would have no reason to be despondent from Anna anymore.
She loved her parents, true, but she loved Anna more so. There came a time when all of her secrets were Anna's and all of Anna's secrets were hers. She once shared in her laughter and her tears, and she was willing to trade it all, The Sight, The Flight, The Cold, if only to spend more time with her.
But The Sight told her it cannot be.
"Good bye Anna."
When Anna was able to crank open her door, her sister had already gone. No letter was left to explain her sudden departure, but a glittery feather remained on top of a glass table to prove that the one gifted with The Sight had been there.
As Elsa flew farther and farther, lost in the vast expanse of the eternal sky wherein she dwelled, her mind raced back to the texts she read, trying to avoid the memories that gnawed at her homesick heart. She swallowed the heavy lump in her throat, and fought more tears that tried to betray her. She flapped her wings with all the might she could muster and refused to look back, gritting her teeth in determination as she began to embark on her journey alone.
"For Anna, for Anna, for Anna…" she chanted to herself. "For Anna, for Anna, for Anna…"
To know her future was her mission, for the one gifted with The Sight possessed the key to defeating Lucien once and for all. It was a mission she was destined to face on her own, and win or lose, she vowed to face the dangers alone to protect the ones she loved.
To understand the unknown future that beholds her, she must seek the unspoken answers found in the Scrolls of Elda. The mystery behind the death of the Son of Haddock untold by the Archangels who raised and taught her.
She knew where she could find the answers, and it was a gamble that could risk her life. But it was a gamble she was willing to take, if only to find refuge in the arms of her family once again. She knew she must fulfill her duty as one gifted with The Sight, to protect not only the Heavenly Realms, but the Realm of Mankind as well.
Elsa knew where to find the answers: and she can only find them from the demon who killed the Son of Haddock.
… … …
Jack stopped his tracks as he approached a dark alley. Unlike the place where he last killed hundreds of demons from thirteen nights ago, this one was much darker. Cleaner, yes, but much... much… darker.
The City of Promiscuity was a place of man's most wicked perversions. It was a place where the most prominent and powerful demons came to play with the young and beautiful creatures of the Dark Realms. The very air that permeated the city was as potent as the most powerful aphrodesiacs, often rendering lower demons at their wits end. Most of its citizens were either succubi or incubi, the skies populated by harpies, and whatever one would make of as forests filled with Naga or Dark Nymphs. The lack of people in the city square heightened the howls and moans of sensuality and lust that rebounded from the hidden lasciviousness of every house and inn. Its buildings were made from ebony and ivory, pointed high and scraping the sky like old gothic towers, and every night (and it was always night, for not a single morning would ever grace the Netherealm) a chorus of fleshly delight resonated through every depth, awakening desire even from those who were but a hairsbreadth away from the city walls.
It was every demon's favourite city.
Once or twice, a succubus would approach the winter demon, offering their bodies for his leisure. Jack was known not only for his hunting abilities, but for his eerily handsome exterior as well. He was a demon posing the image of a striking young man, and any she-devil or male demon alike wanted the eternal youth that the winter devil possessed. No demon from every city would pass the opportunity to get into the devil's pants.
Jack had his fair share of whores to bed. Over a hundred in his lifetime, but quite few in comparison to demons his age. He took the company of women as no more than an occasional past time, finding greater glory of having fresh blood coating his hands in battle than the warmth of a naked woman beside him. Demons did not believe in romantic attachments, believing that the union of man and woman was but a mere obligation to reproduce, and an activity to augment the carnal need for release.
A she-devil with red hair and glowing jade eyes approached him in a predatory romp. Her scantily clad body promised what every hot-blooded male dreamed of, circling the smug winter demon as if to sell herself willingly to the man before him.
"Jackson Frost," the woman purred, surrounding the man like a vulture. "What brings you to this side of the Netherealm sweeting?"
Without blinking his eyes, Jack found the woman already embracing him from behind in an instant, wantonly pressing her body against his back while a manicured nail traced the line of his jaw. An inexperienced young man would have shuddered with delight at the feel of a soft luscious body pressed against him, but Jack was no inexperienced man. In fact, the feel of the woman behind him felt like a soft cushion instead of fleshly warmth. None of the pretty women excited him like they used to anymore, becoming Pitch's object of mockery and question over his sexuality.
Jack huffed a small laugh of humor at the thought. He inwardly reminded himself to bed another female demon and take her severed head after doing the deed to prove his point that he was straight.
"Perhaps… a good f***?" she cooed by his ear. He noted how the woman deliberately pressed her nearly nude breast against his back, as if it would arouse him. Indeed she was beautiful, but Jack had seen more attractive demons in his lifetime.
This was the fifth succubus that tried to offer herself to him that night. Of course, being adept in discerning the hidden intents behind feminine wiles of demons, he knew better not to be receptive of their adorations whether or not they turned him on. If anything, it filled him with a huge sense of pride that even in more than three centuries of his existence, he still had that edge with the ladies even if he didn't try.
"Sorry doll. I'm not exactly in the mood." He turned around and snaked his arms around the she-devil's waist. His blue eyes glowed like sapphire orbs against white talc, peering down at the lush woman in his arms with a predatory smile that mirrored his intent. "But maybe one sloppy wet kiss wouldn't hurt now, would it?"
The she-devil answered him with a fanged cat-like grin before lifting her head to meet his lips… and draw the life-force out of him.
But before her lips met his, a blood-red dagger was already buried deep within her torso. Her once beautiful face morphed into its true form, fangs elongating and drawing blood, and eyes dilating and slanting like that of a cross between a snake's and a cat's. Jack pulled out the dagger, licking the blade slowly while maintaining eye-contact with his latest kill before she fell lifelessly on the ground like a rag doll.
"Stay away from me!"
Gurgling sounds and wicked laughter echoed from the far end of the alley. Jack's sharp sense of hearing concluded around five class B demons circling the intruder hidden at ten o' clock from his current position. There weren't many demons around the area, as that area of the City of Promiscuity was like a ghost town, with only the most debauched and wayward spirits locked within the buildings to fulfil their bodily wants and needs.
He raised a brow, and a curious smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
What was a female angel doing in the Netherealm?
He gazed upon the fallen state of his latest victim and cast a freezing spell on it. He knew better that succubi were hard to kill with one strike, so he froze the she-devil before she had the chance to seek revenge. He then sprinted to the alley where he heard the voices. From the sounds of it, a conflict ensued between five demons and one angel judging by the gargled roars and feminine screams that resonated from his destination. He also sensed a mild spark of power clashing against an opposing force, and he knew that the angel might have been skilled enough to cloak the feel of her life stream from the common demon's eye. Unfortunately for her, demons from B class and beyond were not as stupid, and she chose to visit the City of Promiscuity where powerful demons usually dwelled at that. Jack thought it was stupid of her to gamble with spirits of his kind.
Yet for some reason, the presence of a heavenly being in the Netherealm excited him. There were talks spreading around the Dark Realms that killing an angel would raise a demon's ranks to the S class, granting them powers that could equal that of King Lucien himself. And for a while now, Jack had been training himself to reach that rank as the peak of his quest to redeem himself. Once he reaches the S class, he would be powerful enough to defeat Lucien, the strongest and most wicked demon of them all. His end would mark the end of the demon race, and Jack would make sure that the last demon to remain would be the dragon he spared in honor of the man who risked his life for his own kind. He'd be willing to destroy every demon there was, may it be Pitch or himself, but not the dragon. And he was willing to grab every opportunity he could to lead him closer to his goal.
An opportunity presented itself now.
"Stay away from me!"
When Jack reached his destination, the scene he found both shocked and amused him.
He found five shur drows and blood suckers impaled on jagged spikes of blue ice. The three iron walls that cornered the dark alley were covered in frost, creeping from the bottom to the top like floral swirls, and at the centre of the area, cowering in fear like a wailing child, was a young woman dressed in white, with platinum blonde hair braided messily over her shoulder, and skin that was as pure as snow. She buried her face in her hands, holding back sobs and screams, and her large glamorous wings enveloped her like a shield. Glittery feathers scattered across the once dirty ground, now covered in ice, and flurries of snowflakes drifted through the air, being the aftermath of the battle that ensued before he came.
How… curious…
Jack cocked his head and looked at her with silent awe. It was the first time he ever saw a female angel up close. The last angel he ever encountered was an Archangel named Uriel, and their meeting had been one of his most favourite battles up to date. The man was ruthless and cunning, and if not for luck on his side, Jack would have been eternally dead.
The angel looked up and flinched as soon as she saw him. Though the first thought that registered unto her were the words 'beautiful' and 'captivating', she knew better that the alluring demons were often the most dangerous ones. Her blue eyes assessed him from his boots up to his snow white hair, cautiously studying him and discerning his possible intentions as she heightened her guard. By the looks of it, she was relieved that the demon clad in black and blue leather showed no signs of knowing she possessed The Sight. It was imperative that she kept her gifts a secret, for fear that the higher ranking demons might find her and deliver her to the Demon King. And judging by the young man's intimidating stare and insulting smile, plus the dark and cold aura that loomed about his very existence, he was among the higher ranks.
There were a few daggers secured by his thighs, and two guns holstered by his hips. She guessed that the glowing marks she saw in his body through The Sight was a seal that hid a powerful weapon within his life stream. But even without the aid of his weapons, Elsa knew that this man was capable of killing her with his bare hands. She pressed herself harder against the wall to her back when he began a dangerously relaxed pace towards her direction. As his foot crunched against the ice floor she had conjured, darker blue frost crept from the soles of his boots, polluting her magic with his own as he neared her inch by perilous inch.
Elsa placed both her hands on the ground and eyed him warily, feeling the ground beneath her as she clenched her fists to convince herself that she would not back down from a fight. She folded her legs against her chest as she allowed her wings to flap once, then twice to threaten him. But she was cautious enough not to make a sound or cause a whirlwind, hoping that no other demon had sensed her presence with the power she had already used.
"What's a heavenly being like you doing in a godforsaken place like this?" the winter demon asked her with clear interest. His stunning blue eyes glinted against the faint lights like a warning beacon. He continued towards her in a conceited manner, as if to show-off the danger he possessed. If Elsa was fazed by him, she didn't let it show in spite of her fear.
"Stay back!" she warned. Her voice shook slightly, but the anger in it did not waver.
Jack answered her by laughing, "Or what?"
"Or you'll turn out like they did!" Elsa threatened him as she pointed towards the demons she had impaled with her magic.
"Yes I can see that." The winter demon whistled, rubbing one hand against the back of his neck and the other planted casually on the side of his hip. The angel watched the hand by his hip warily for it was so close to the gun handle protruding from the opening of his cloak. "But I'm not exactly a fan of death by impaling ya know? I'm more of the hack and slash killing type… or maybe beheading because… hey, you know, beheading is kinda cool."
Elsa's eyes widened with dread at how he casually described murder like an everyday hobby. She fought the chill that ran her spine when he laughed. It was a sound both musical and enticing, but it also hinted that he was strong enough to destroy her.
"What? I'm a demon. We're trained to be creative with the way we kill." Jack said with raised brows as if to answer her unspoken question. "Although I'm not really as artsy as the others. You see, these guys—" he pointed to the demons Elsa killed, "—kill their victims after they have their way with them. You know… man, woman, or child—"he edged closer to her as he spoke his next words with a malevolent grin sketching his handsome face, "—they don't give a damn what or who you are. They are demons of the City of Promiscuity you see… and death by rape is obviously their best talent."
He took satisfaction at seeing the angel visibly shudder at his words. At the same time, he was surprised that she only threw a more threatening glare at him even more, sensing the power that gathered by her fists should he make a wrong move. It seemed she was foolish enough to stay her ground instead of fleeing, and as far as he knew, angels were capable of flying at lightning speeds. If anything, she would have been able to flee from him now?
"I said stay back!" she commanded, extending an arm to shoot a large stream of power in his direction. Jack merely took one small side step and avoided her attack without breaking a sweat.
He could see that the air of the city was making her weak.
Jack was surprised that she made no effort to fix the rip in her tunic by her left shoulder, exposing the pearly whiteness of her shoulder and the top of her breast. As far as the stories provided him, he had always known that angels were so adamant about decency. And seeing this particular angel's thighs, arms and shoulders so utterly exposed in the presence of a man… and a demon man at that was… very dangerous.
He could only allow himself a conceited and perverted smirk.
"Shame that it's not your clothes I'll be tearing apart."
Elsa had no time to react when she found herself pressed up against the wall in a blink of an eye, with her sandwiched between the iron wall behind her and the winter demon before her. For some inexplicable reason, her wings had retreated inside her body and she felt panic bubble from within her gut as she stared at the man whose face was a mere breath away from hers. His thigh was lodged between her legs to hold her up against the wall, her arms locked uselessly behind her and her hair held in an iron grip by the demon's left hand. She found herself helpless under his lethal gaze, the blueness of his eyes promising her an ugly death should she make attempts to resist him.
Jack pulled against her hair to angle her face to his gaze, and wicked pride brimmed from the darkest depths of his being as he spotted tears that threatened to betray the angel's steely blue resolve. It impressed him how a war between fear and courage was evident in her expressive blue eyes. He had always believed that angels were beautiful creatures... but there was a beauty to her he couldn't quite describe.
And he took evil satisfaction watching that beauty cower at his mercy.
"How unfortunate that you chose to drop by this city among all places. You must be terribly lost." Jack murmured. His tone was both playful and friendly, but it didn't quite touch the evil intent in his eyes. "Don't worry… you'll have loads of fun being in my company. I swear I'll make your accidental road trip here very… heavenly."
His cool breath wafted against her nose like ocean mist, and although he smelled too good for a demon, the fragrance made her want to gag.
Elsa tried to wriggle herself free, squeezing her eyes shut as she struggled against him. She bit her lower lip to fight the sob that threatened to come out, refusing to give her enemy the satisfaction of triumph. She tried to kick with her limp yet flawless legs, and she pushed her upper body forward in a lame attempt to free her arms. But the man before her was just too strong, and it only encouraged him further as he violently pressed himself against her, knocking her head against the iron wall and letting him feel her body in the intimacy she had never wished to share with any other man. He was far… far… far too close for her liking, and every single cell of him spoke imminent death.
"Let me go!" she cried, daring to meet his eyes with all the anger and bravado she could muster.
Jack fought the urge to throw his head back in laughter in amusement. He found it entertaining how the petite little angel in his arms was stupid enough to put up this scene of bravery in spite of how terribly in danger she was of losing both her chastity and life (not that his intention was to rape her anyway, but he was in the City of Promiscuity after all). He bent down and traced her jawline with his lips, chuckling as she cringed with disgust like he was the plague. The taste of her skin surprised him. Unlike the spicy tang he was used to in tasting a woman, her skin tasted sweet and addicting like nectar. It ignited a primal fire within his cold body and he reveled at the feel of it as he continued planting wet kisses on her neck. He heard her breath hitch when he lightly nipped at the flesh where her jaw met her ear, and that was the time he chose to taunt her even further.
"Now, now, sweetheart…" he cooed before planting a soft kiss against the nape of her neck. "I'm trying to make this easy for you. I'm not as merciful as all the others."
"Curse you…" Elsa hissed, choking back a sob as her body tensed. "Curse you to hell!"
He licked the column of her neck from the nape to her jugular in one long stroke before whispering, "We already are in hell baby. I think you need to take a rain check."
"Let me go!" she cried, trying her best to wriggle free. She hated how her voice sounded like she was begging instead of commanding. As an angel, she was raised to answer with authority and power, and for her to sound like a pleading slave to a demon was an intense blow to her pride as a heavenly being.
Jack punished her by yanking her hair so that she faced him directly again. The motion made her cry out in pain to his delight.
"They say a sword puncturing the sheath creates life…" he murmured with glee. He threw his head back to look upon her face and took immense joy when he saw her aghast expression. Her eyes were wide with horror, and she grit her teeth as tears began to trickle down her blossom smooth cheeks. Jack felt something sizzle in the atmosphere as he watched her, suddenly turned on by the ironic beauty that he found in the young woman's sorrow. He could take her right then and there, and lose himself in the pleasure of taking a woman's purity by force. It would have been his first sexual assault, and an angel at that. He might become notorious for committing such a deed. And besides that, the girl had an enchanting beauty about her that he never found in the wild and wicked exquisiteness of the she-devils. Probably because he had never slept with a pure being in all his life, and this being an angel, he assumed that she was virgin.
But then he remembered his goal and quickly regained focus, "but what about a blade penetrating your heart?"
Elsa fought to gasp. Under normal circumstances, she would have been grateful that a demon would choose to end her life quickly instead stealing whatever that was left of her dignity. But this was no normal circumstance, and she had a mission to accomplish. She thrashed and yelled and cried, refusing to give in to the fate the demon wanted to bestow upon her. She willed herself to fight and fight some more, wriggling her body free from the hardness of the wall and his body against hers.
Apparently the angel made the wrong move.
Jack meant his next action to be an attempt to pierce a blade piercing through her chest, or a spell igniting cold hellfire to consume the girl entrapped between him and the iron wall.
Instead, and he didn't know what came over him and why, he bent down his head and kissed her full on the mouth.
"Mmmmf!"
His lips moved against hers roughly, trying to pry her mouth open, and succeeding when she gasped after lightly tracing his tongue across her bottom lip. She squeezed her eyes shut, her system filling with dread at what was happening to her as the demon assaulted her. His grip on his hair tightened, and his other hand began massaging the exposed skin of her thigh aggressively. Tears brimmed down her cheeks as the demon attacked her lips with his own in heated frenzy, and in her panic, she struggled with all the remaining strength she could give to save her from the humiliation of having been groped by an enemy to her race…
She mewled in furious protest as he continued to kiss her, deciding to bite him should he ever attempt to deepen the kiss.
But when his tongue invaded her honey sweet cavern that was the time she lost her self completely.
Elsa felt her will crumble when the demon's movements suddenly became tender. The hand that massaged her thigh moved to snake around her small waist, and the other that held a vice-like grip on her hair now caressed the back of her neck to press her face closer against his. He angled his head to deepen the kiss as his tongue expertly battled to dominate hers, raking across the upper rows of her teeth making her shudder. Such a sensation was alien to the angel and instinctively, Elsa responded shyly with equal fervor, unaware that her arms were now free as she wrapped them timidly around the demon's neck. A musical moan escaped her lips when he slightly retreated his head, but her response suddenly urged Jack to press his lips harder against hers, and the earlier roughness of his advances resumed as he used both hands to press his body more firmly against hers.
No, no, no, no, no, no… the small part of her mind that was still sane berated her. But Elsa was too lost in the sensations… falling prey to the flavor of mint and ocean that his mouth gave her. That small part of her slowly receded to oblivion when a groan reverberated from his lips, and she answered with a moan that was alien to her as her hands found leisure in massaging his snow white hair, which was surprisingly soft to the touch. Their breaths became hitched and frantic as they struggled for air, but both refused to kill the fiery passion that ignited between them in the dance of lips and tongues. What came over them, they didn't know… but both were aware that once either of them ever attempted to gasp for breath… they would regret it… immensely.
Their lips separated with a popping sound, and both struggled for air, greedily inhaling the air they had lost in the light of their fierce passion. Jack was first to regain focus, his eyes turning wide in desbelief at what he had done. It took time before he found the strength to loosen his grip on the girl, especially when he saw her dazed eyes and puffed lips sinfully tainted by his advances. The rosy hue on her cheeks tempted the demon to kiss her again, and perhaps do more.
But this time, self control won.
"F***." Jack cursed.
That was the time Elsa had finally snapped out of her daze, recognizing the gravity and absurdity of both their actions...
What in Tsar's name had she done?
(To be continued...)
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May the Fortress be with you...