Aimee
Bex tried to smile, her face ashen and beads of sweat littered her skin. Aimee gently brushed her fingers along her unblemished skin to wipe away a small trickle of blood trailing her hairline that threatened to stain that beautiful face. She glanced at Tiff who held the Priestess in her lap and the little minx shot Aimee a defiant expression, nodding that she would protect her. Aimee winked at Tiff and squeezed her shoulder.
"May the Holy Lord and his children of the sun and of heaven protect you my sister...and you also my sister."
Aimee said the words under her breath and released some of her Aura into both of the women, just a trickle, to heal and aid in recovery. She also said another silent prayer for the safety of her sister and for Leon's soul, asking for guidance and strength, she bit her trembling lip as the emotions threatened to surface.
The air stirred behind her as the stench of corruption intensified and Ardour trembled in anticipation. She peered down at the black stains on the blade and grimaced at the amount of time it will take her to bathe the weapon in Holy water and scrub it with oak brushes to rid it of the evil stench and scarring.
Aimee ignored the sudden trembling of the room and the enormous thundering crash of glass, stone and wood hitting the floor as Beelzebub climbed in from outside, where Aimee had kicked him, smashing a gaping hole into the herb garden. She let the holy Aura of St Michael pour into her and Ardour burned pure white in answer.
The longer she lingered here, the endless tugging at the back of her skull intensified, she needed this fight to end quickly.
With a subtle twist of her body, she rotated right and rolled off Beelzebub's clumsy lunge with his blood-filled curved dagger. Ardour vibrated as she swung down, severing his hand from his arm, his blade falling to the stone floor as he bellowed out in agony.
Aimee maintained her momentum and fell to her knees, sliding under the Arch-daemons trailing good arm. Dragging a burning Ardour across the back of his legs, hamstringing the abomination, severing muscle and tendons. Beelzebub dropped to the stone floor with a crash and a high-pitched scream.
Lord Michael's power poured into her, the pureness of their holy union, an intoxicating drug, filling her soul to breaking point as she rose to her feet. Beelzebub lay groaning on his side trembling in a ball of agony, his vile black blood a pool around him, the stench made her gag in her heightened state of sensitivity.
Ardour's bite is deep...
She closed her eyes and prayed "Abomination of the Prince of Darkness and Angel of the fallen...I do sentence you back to Hell and to the realms of the lost. As are my duty and mission in-"
Aimee's eyes opened as she paused her final prayer of passing, the air behind her changed and a sudden feeling of dread nearly consumed her.
Aimee instinctively raised her blade behind her head as if it was the most natural of movements and felt the expected jolt and clang of holy steel against corrupted, as a hell blade ricocheted off Ardour. She spun as a second blade stabbed for where her back had been, the knife slicing the air. The first blade she had blocked spun for her neck, Aimee dipped back and watched it pass her eyes as if in slow motion.
Ardour sang in her hand as she defended herself, blocking and glancing away attempt after attempt for her blood, the two weapons a blur to the naked eye. She stepped to her right and winced as her right cheek burned and instinctively kicked a chair laying on the floor towards the attacker and jumped back to protect her friends still sitting on the floor. She needed to assess this new threat and regain her breath as her heart thundered in her chest. Never had Aimee twice in one day feared for her life. This opponent was as good with the blade as Liana, and that could only mean one person.
Fear gripped her.
She gingerly touched her throbbing face and grimaced at the blood on her fingers, glancing coyly behind and catching Tiff's golden gaze brushing hers for a brief moment.
Did she notice?
Tiff gave no sign, her golden gaze now focused on the new enemy, the small vixen prowling to protect Bex, crouched low on the balls of her feet, a few steps one way, then back the other, in front of the injured High priest. Her eyes burned like beacons in the dim lighting of the kitchen, as dusk descended upon the house.
I...bleed...I am not worthy...forgive me, my Lord Michael...
Aimee bit her lip to stop it trembling and snapped her gaze towards her assailant to confirm, who for a second time today, had made Archangels Michael's vessel on earth...bleed.
The new assailant broke the silence first.
"Michael's bitch has red blood in her veins. This is...interesting news, no...exciting news. My brother the great Lord Prince must be upon us, as the universe shifts in his favour."
Aimee snarled in reply at the sight before her, readying her stance and spinning Ardour in her hand. Though, she fought against the churning of her guts as fear clawed at her from within.
A tall slim woman in her prime, her face as beautiful as was her mesmerizing smile. A breath-taking image of what all women aspired to. Or all men lusted after. Long flowing white blonde hair, free, unbound down her back, dressed in a one-piece suit of black leather-like material. Her face was too perfect, almost nonhuman because it was faultless. Only the eyes revealed her true nature and high rank in the Daemon Horde. Feline in shape as all Daemons, but black. Ink black.
The eyes of an Arch-Daemon, or in this case, Princess of the damned. Aimee's stomach clenched again in a sudden overwhelming sensation of terror. All the images and descriptions she had studied, the journals, scrolls and writings of hundreds of scholars, visionaries and even the mentally tortured, could not prepare Aimee for who stood before her. A myth, a legend. A nightmare to make even the most righteous and most pure of faith fear their own sanity.
Her house sinks down to death,
And her course leads to the shades.
All who go to her cannot return
And find again the paths of life.
Her gates are gates of death, and from the entrance of the house
She sets out towards Sheol.
None of those who enter there will ever return,
And all who possess her will descend to the Pit.
"Lilith," Aimee whispered. The woman smiled as if hearing her name for the first time.
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