Rising

Looking out over the beautiful landscape illuminated by the silvery moon, sitting on a freezing rock in the middle of nowhere, reflecting on life. This was, as it was later exquisitely put to him, bloody boring. Three years stuck on the same hill, bound by a misguided practitioner of the Old Ways who (with all due credit) hadn’t a clue what she was doing at the time, was – rather understandably - grating on his nerves. The irony of the entire setup was not lost on him, but still, three years?

Or rather, three years one month seven days two hours and twenty three minutes, he reflected, clearly having had this mental conversation numerous times before. He would have shouted it out loud, but the several lesser spirits guarding him were ordered to stop him if he tried to alert anyone to his existence. His thick leathery wings curled protectively around his body to shield him from the icy winds, as his tail twitched in annoyance.

It’s not as though I’m Lucifer, for Hell’s sake! Grating his teeth, he smiled somewhat threateningly at the nearest. Unfortunately, this only made the young soldier’s ghost fall about in hysterics, looking as he did somewhat like a constipated guinea-pig, his talents at terrifying lying elsewhere. Failing to see the humour of the situation, he sat back in a sulk and pouted, sending the cheerful young spirit into further gales of laughter.

“Please, demon, whatever you’re doing to the poor boy stop it. There’s no need to entertain us.”

Thoroughly unimpressed with the attitude of his gaolers, the demon responded with the wittiest comeback he could think of.

“I wasn’t. He just saw your face.”

“Demon,” the eternally middle-aged woman warned, also a ghost killed in this general area a few hundred years ago.

“My name isn’t ‘Demon’, as you well know Nell. It’s Rael, thank you so very much,” he replied acidly.

“I see no reason to become friendly with you, spawn of hell,” she replied. It wasn’t so much her use of the insult; it was the tone of her voice. As though that was all he was and ever could be, thanks to a stupid deed he did many millennia ago when he was a young arrogant secretarial angel.

“Why do you hate me so?” He queried, genuinely interested in her response.

“You are a demon. Your sole purpose to exist is to destroy and tempt man to evil. Why should I not hate you, that would be a better question,” she replied indifferently. Of course, Rael couldn’t care less, seeing it was the best conversation he had had in the past four months.

“I was an angel. Now I’m a demon. I’m sick of this empty existence; I want to find something more. Kind of hard to believe, but I remember a little of my time in heaven. I’m tired of being stuck in a cycle, going nowhere,” the demon replied, sighing and resting his head on his fists.

“You cannot return. You fought against your Lord and Master -” she began to respond, before being rudely cut off.

“No. I never fought against Him, and I never wanted to harm Michael or Raphael or any of the others. You never knew Lucifer before the Change, you never saw him beaming as he was lifted up to the right hand of our Lord. The loss of that favour – it broke him. Satan is no more Lucifer now than I was Rael when I served him. I was Calefer, a Lord of Hell, and proud of it,” he shouted, standing up and screaming into the night.

There was no point to it, none at all. The screaming, the shouting, the destructive bursts – all it did was turn them more against him. The conversation, such as it was, abruptly died. But this time, the cheerful soldier fell quiet, and laid an icy hand on his shoulder. Rael took a little comfort in this show of understood grief for a lost comrade, before shrugging it off and curling up on his side ignoring them all.

 

Rael was back sitting on his rock before dawn, watching the sun rising steadily on the horizon, its fiery fingers scuttling out over the hills and dales of Yorkshire. Impulsively, he stood and bowed in a manner reminiscent of the rituals in his youth, submitting to the life giving orb of fire that looked so indomitable against the clear blue sky. He was fully aware of the incredulous stares from his guardians, and coolly ignored them all.

He listed them off in his head, wondering idly who to annoy today. He’d already irritated Nell last night, and he really didn’t feel like winding up Joseph after his display of companionship. Henry, the stoic, silent type, was never gratifying, and Kieran was just too easy with his temper. Nope, today was looking to be as boring as the rest of the 1133 he’d had to spend with these miserable sods. Suddenly, his head shot up, and his vaguely pointed ears pricked as he heard something very interesting. Footsteps. Living footsteps.

Extending his thick black scaly wings, he bounded over to the source of the intriguing sound. As part of the binding, very few humans could find their way onto the isolated and lonely hill, although to be fair there was no real reason that they’d want to. He peered over the edge of the rock, but saw nothing.

Then, icy cold steel touched the back of his neck. Instantly tensing up, he slowly turned to look into the eyes of his attacker to be met with a most unlikely demon hunter. Facing him, with an honestly quite magnificent sword of blue steel pointing directly at his throat, was an adolescent boy, probably around seventeen, with light brown hair and nervous, startling blue eyes. Rael’s own whirling silver eyes were calm in this awkward situation, but inside he was smacking himself for being so utterly stupid.

“Well, boy?” he answered in the most terrifying voice he could muster. Granted, he was not at his best, his evil voice having had very little use since he left the service of the Prince of Demons a few hundred years prior.

“What is your name?” the boy asked with no hint of a tremor. Rael could easily tell that his arms were used to holding a sword from his stance, but that he was unused to holding it for so long in a horizontal position from the way his arms were trembling from the unforgiving weight.

“Rael. Former Lord of Hell. Well?” he queried politely.

“Well what?” the boy responded, rather unintelligently in the demon’s opinion.

“Are you going to kill me or not?” he replied, rolling his peculiar eyes in disbelief of the boy’s idiocy.

“I suppose I am.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Well get on with it!” Rael roared his patience exhausted at last. He sprang up with inhuman speed, knocking the sword from the boy’s hands and blasting the boy himself to the floor. His tail whipping round with lightning speed, he got ready to slice the boy’s head off.

What he saw in the boy’s face surprised him. The fear he expected was there, but the hatred wasn’t, nor was the usual despair. Instead he saw gentle acceptance of death and the evil of the world, the complete absence of malice and cruelty and the evident hope, even at this bleak time for the boy. The demon’s reaction to this revelation was even more surprising. Pulling back, and turning away, he waited for the boy to get up before speaking.

“You acted well. I disapprove of the cowardly way you snuck up on me, but anything goes where survival is concerned I suppose. Who are you?”

“Me? My name is Matthew Harper. Matt. Why, I mean, well, why-” the boy – Matt – stammered out, before being cut off.

“Why didn’t I kill you?” Rael finished for him, turning to face him with his arms folded, a wry smile on his face and an amused glint in his eye.

“Yes,” he answered with a chuckle, scratching his head in bemusement.

“I am a demon, so I am therefore inherently bad, right? But even the greatest of demons was the brightest of angels once. Granted, I wasn’t the brightest but I still remember the glories of heaven. Looking at you I saw a little of that glory reflected back at me, in a faded shadow. Death is not for you just yet,” he replied, smiling a little more sincerely.

Plus, by keeping you alive I’m denying my demonic side. By denying that, I’m getting that tiny bit closer to Heaven.

The two stared at each other in awkward silence for a few moments, before Matt’s eyes fell to the floor. The mortal coughed, more for something to fill the silence than anything else. The spirits clustered round, forgotten until now, with the ever optimistic Joseph flicking his head comically from one to the other.

“Thanks,” Matt began, but stopped, unable to go on. He walked over to where his magnificent sword lay on the damp grass, and picked it up. He wiped it perfunctorily before sheathing it, his movements swift and fluid. “You know, if there’s anything you need me for, well.”

“Do you have any experience with bindings? Because I am so bored I want to explode.”

“Oh, right. My mother taught me some, but I suppose if it’s really strong I’ll have to get someone better than me involved.”

“Trust me, it’s strong. I’ve been stuck here for three years and it’s not weakening. The guardians are still as strong as ever, too,” he answered unnecessarily.

“Fine. I think my sister has had more practice than I have, so I’ll be along tomorrow. I promise.”

Slightly bewildered by the boy's easy acceptance of his terms, Rael sat down solidly, frowning, before sighing and giving up on the puzzle. The boy was clearly an idiot, a trusting idiot, but an idiot nevertheless.

And anyway, he’d promised. And a promise to a demon is always upheld, regardless of the wishes of the mortal.



Back at his home, Matt was bewildered. Why on earth had he told the demon that he would help set him free? After all, the name demon implied he wasn’t on the side of good and honour and truth – or maybe he was reading too much into the situation. Perhaps the demon had confused him, controlling his actions, and it was only once he got away that the effect had worn off!

But that sounded a lot like paranoia. Even though, as a demon, it could be perfectly possible for him to have done something like that. Of course, the demon had spared his life (or could it be said that Matt had spared his?) so really, Matt owed it to him to get him loose from that hill.

If there was an organisation for the protection of demons, they’d certainly be on to his mother for the conditions he was kept in.

So why was he doing this? Pity? Honour? After all, hadn’t his father always told him never to break a promise to anyone or anything? Of course, that had something to do with karma, or the Universal Law of Three, or something along those lines. As he said; “The bad stuff you do will come back and bite you in the ass three times harder than you sent it out”. And unfortunately, that rule had proved true so far.

But he had no idea what he had done in some past life to be born into this family.

Still, there were really only three choices. Talk to Laura, get him free. Pretend the event never happened and somehow get around his mother who will want to know why the demon is still alive and kicking. Go back and tell the demon he wasn’t able to set him loose, probably resulting in a slow and painful death.

Wasn’t much of a choice, really.

Then again… if he went, the consequences (not to be cliché) would be dire. So, he wouldn’t go. An oath to a demon wasn’t really a promise, was it? There’d be no chance of him being affected by it, would there?



A week later, morning broke on the horizon as Rael made a few belated goodbyes to the guardians, hoping that the boy would be good on his promise today, even if the last six ended up with the boy running away in his pyjamas. He waited for half the morning before his sensitive ears picked up on some vibrations that could only be one thing.

Matt had been walking to the hill every day since the promise was made, his feet forcing him to the hill. Each time, at the base, the boy had run away (most likely back to bed considering the attire). Maybe he didn’t mean to keep the promise? Either way, he wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long. Matt was clearly the honourable type, the valour-filled knight of the twentieth century. Brat.

“Is that you, Matt?” he called out hopefully.

“Who else would it be?” the mortal laughed, slightly on edge and smiling apologetically at the demon. It didn’t matter, he was getting free, there was no need to hold grudges. “See, this is Laura, my twin, who says she can do this.”

“Great,” Laura frowned. “Put words in my mouth why don’t you, then? I said I may be able to do something.”

“So be it. Please, free me,” he pleaded, sitting on the ground and looking up much as a small child would.

“How do we know you won’t go on a killing spree?” Laura asked suspiciously with remarkable forthrightness.

“How do I know you two are twins? I don’t care any more. I honestly don’t care. I want to go home. Truly home. You can help me with this,” he replied wearily, bringing his knees up and curving his wings around protectively.

Sighing, the girl spread her arms out straight, and began chanting. Recognising the ancient language of the angels, Rael smiled, stood, and began to slowly spin, his dark hair ruffled in the wind generated by the chanting. His eyes whirled intensely, his glossy black wings stretching to their fullest span and his bare feet rising a few inches from the ground. Just as suddenly, the wind stopped, the chanting ceased, the feeling of flying ended and the demon was slammed back down to earth.

“Thank you,” he said, shaking and smiling, both to the guardians who he had grown to like hating and the two who had rescued him from their grasp. “Truly, thank you.”

“You really were an angel once, weren’t you, Rael?” Laura spoke in amazement. “It’s hard to imagine you as one.”

Rael tried to gather his cool and collected aura back to him, failing utterly, and replied as suavely as he was able.

“Of course. Did you think we popped out of holes in the ground? Anyway, I only twirled a little. If you saw Lucifer at his height of glory, or Michael at any time to be frank, you would think me lowly, and a poor demonstration. Plus, I have been kicked out of heaven so I’m not the best by any stretch of the imagination, or even a decent example.”

“You were beautiful again, for a moment, to us,” Matt told him gently.

Rael smiled shyly, with the hint of gentleness and wisdom that they expected from him as a fallen angel. Then, with a great sweep of his massive wings, he leapt up and soared above the clouds, leaving his prison for good.

 

“So. Do you think we did the right thing, freeing him?” Matt asked tentatively of his confidence inspiring sister.

“Who knows?” she shrugged, her eyes still on the sky even though the black speck that was him had long since been hidden by cloud.

“He wasn’t what I thought he would be like. He was… It was as though he was remembering who he was after having forgotten for so long he was nearly lost. The look he gave me when he was about to kill me, it was so sad,” Matt told her thoughtfully, also looking up in vain.

”No, really?” a sardonic voice responded behind them.

The two whipped round in amazement to face the demon.

“How touching. You should write poetry,” Rael smirked, his eyes flashing in amusement at their surprise. “Weren’t you expecting to see me again? I’m hurt at your lack of faith in me. I owe you, and I don’t like being in debt for long.”

“Well, this is a merry gathering,” a woman’s voice rang out on the hilltop, causing the two mortals to jump and turn around and Rael to stiffen and jump into the air.

That’s her! He thought angrily. That’s the witch who bound me!

“Mother! What are you doing here?” Matt exclaimed, terrified out of his wits. He looked around him as though he was expecting others to turn up, which his mother read easily.

“You freed him didn’t you? Well, son, if you are to keep your position within our clan, kill him now.”

“No.” Laura looked at her brother in astonishment. Matt was firm on the matter, folding his arms and looking him mother straight in the eye. That is, until three spirit warriors, all with swords drawn, appeared from mist.

“Now, that, my little witch girl, is cheating, wouldn’t you say?” the half-forgotten demon asked her rhetorically, his leathery wings flapping lazily in the air. The former guardians of the demon looked at him, and Joseph warily drew his sword, followed by the others in quick succession. Like a whisper, he heard a voice in his mind;

“We will give you a little time, but we can’t do much. You must throw her off,” Joseph sent to him. “Remember us, and don’t fall.”

The woman began chanting rhythmically, and the air grew heavy. Beads of sweat formed on the demon’s brow as he fought to keep the binding away. “Now that, my dear, is most certainly not fair.”

The ghostly swords met in combat, silent to all but Rael’s ears. Seeing it as a signal, he gathered his strength and knocked the woman to the floor, effectively shutting her up and hence stopping the binding, grabbed the twins, and with a single beat of his powerful wings leapt skilfully into the clear blue sky, crying a farewell to the already fading spirits of those they had to leave behind.

 

The demon crowed in delight as he felt the wind tear at his hair and slip through his wings. The twins, however, were screaming as they raced over the land.

“Be calm! I’ll set you down in my own little hidey hole on Earth,” Rael roared, completely in his element. The twins ignored him, yelling their fear out as they trembled in the grip of this unstable demon.

It took hours, as far as the two were concerned, to get to a cliff by the sea. Laura screamed as he folded his wings in to fall six hundred feet to get to the base of the cliff and a wide, wet cave that was on the edge. He expertly caught himself before the spray touched them and sped through the cave narrowly missing several rock formations, obviously having done this many a time before.

Rael landed at last on his feet and allowed the panicking two to release their death grip on his waist. They clung instead to a large stalagmite that was near the wall of the strangely lavish room and to each other, sobbing in relief that their ordeal was over.

They took the time to look around as they gathered their wits to themselves, marvelling at the variety of items on display. A huge wooden table, carved from driftwood, walls that had been covered with grey stone to appear more like a house, and a huge fireplace that contrasted oddly with a modern, even if it was a few years old, gas cooker all served to combine the stately grandeur of a medieval tithe hall and a normal flat in a very strange, but not entirely unpleasant, way.

“Hey, I said I owed you didn’t I? Did you really think I was going to let you die?”

“Yes,” Laura said accusatorily. Matt nodded, glaring at him. Rael took a few steps back, silver eyes whirling erratically in his unease.

“Look, I’m sorry, but that old bat back there looked ready to kill you. I wasn’t allowed to let you stay in a dangerous environment, not when I was indebted to you.”

“Eh?” Matt asked, looking particularly unintelligent.

“It’s a habit from the old days,” he murmured, embarrassed, hooking his arm behind his head and scratching his neck. He turned away, stating “I’ll get you something to eat.”

The twins stared at him as his huge wings retracted into his back and he became noticeably more human looking. His eyes darkened into a piercing blue, and his tail shrunk to nothing. Realising they were staring, Rael turned and tipped a wink before going to the cupboards. He’d only done it because there wasn’t the room by the cooker. He wondered if they’d ask how he got the gas here, hoping he wouldn’t have to demonstrate the magic used to siphon it from the mains. He’d had singed eyebrows and no hair for seven weeks after the last time.

“Wait,” Laura said.

“What?” Rael asked as he rummaged through.

“Is this stuff safe? I mean, three years…” she tailed off.

“Of course it is. I have a permanent standing order with this really nice faerie. He only needs a kick up the backside every few decades or so.”

“This is nuts,” Matt declared. “I get the entire ‘train, kill demon, train some more, kill more demons’ stuff – I’ve done it all my life. Even the spells Laura does are pretty much within my grasp. But a demon who wants to be an angel again? Faeries? That’s out of my league.”

“No-one’s asking you to understand, only accept,” Rael told him matter-of-factly, frowning and sticking his tongue out thoughtfully as he reached to the back of the cupboards. “Now, cinnamon…”

“We live in a world without magic. Why did we have to be born into the only family with any magical gift?” Laura complained.

“You weren’t. There’s one in Egypt, several in Russia, a couple of right nutters in Italy, loads over in China, possibly one in Tibet, but I’ve kinda lost touch with them, etcetera, etcetera.” He ignored their disbelieving gazes as he revealed this earth-shattering information. “Anyway, magic is just below the technological surface. Trust me on this. You as a species need to change, and magic is simply the root of change. Ah, cinnamon!”

Giving in, the two sat back and accepted his peculiar hospitality. Rael politely informed them that the bathroom (or hot spring – courtesy of a nifty enchantment) wasn’t too far away, and that they might want to freshen up before the food was done. They gratefully went, with Laura as the female taking advantage of the spring first.

She lay back in the stone tub, relaxing in the oils and warm water, allowing the tension seep out of her body. Sighing languidly, she splashed around a little before getting out, allowing her brother a turn whilst there was still time. As she went to her clothes, it was disconcerting for her to realise that they were no longer there.

It was evident that someone or something had come into the room whilst she was busy in the bath and replaced them. Left in their place was a silky dress of a slippery material, along with all the necessary clothes for a female. She timidly put them on, seeing no other choice unless she wished to wander around in her birthday suit. Once dressed, she peered into the darker corners of the room, looking for the person who put them there. When that attempt failed, she resolved to take it up with Rael.

As she left the bathing room, she warned her brother quietly that there was someone or something in there that would take his dirty clothes away and replace them. Matt, having long since given up making any sort of sense out of the situation, merely shrugged and let his sister’s concern wash over him. Once he came out, around half an hour later, he was dressed smartly in a tunic and trousers made from the same green silky material as the clothes left out for Laura. Both twins were slightly unnerved by the events, disliking the thought that there was someone watching them as they bathed.

Once the pair returned to the dining room that was annexed off the kitchen, they confronted Rael about it.

“Where are our clothes?” Laura demanded.

“Let’s see, they were disgusting so I threw them in the wash? Yep, that’s it,” he replied flippantly, disregarding Laura’s glare.

“You took them whilst we were in the bath,” she accused, her hands on her hips. Matt just sat back; perfectly content to allow his sister to fight their battles for them.

“Yup. I used magic, don’t fret. I wouldn’t want to see you guys in the bath anyway. Ever heard of the Nephilim?” he queried.

“Nope. Why?” Matt interjected, curious.

“Nephilim – damned children of angels and humans, abominations, disgusting, vile, icky, and so on and so forth. Don’t want my offspring, if I have any, to end up as the most evil beings in the world. They’re all dead now, though.”

“Fair enough,” Matt replied unconcernedly, dismissing the strange noises that Laura was making in her attempt to convey her anger.

In frustration at the attitudes of men, Laura threw up her hands and flopped into the nearest chair. Rael and Matt both sighed in this typical display from the girl, who clearly couldn’t understand the immense complexity that was hidden within that short exchange, consisting of numerous battles for dominance, at least two mutual agreements that offspring were required for any male, and the confirmation that Rael still owed Matt. Of course, the boys didn’t understand the subtle nuances of their remarks either, so in reality her despair at their behaviour was quite understandable.

It wasn’t long before their food was ready, and to the twins’ shock the demon wasn’t half bad at cooking. He fenced off their astounded comments and belated compliments by attributing it to a long time living alone, which they were more than happy to accept. They stuffed themselves to bursting with excellent etiquette, and sat lazily back in their chairs.

The talk quickly turned to inconsequential nothings, mainly involving recipes that they adored and semi amusing anecdotes of times gone by. As this took place, the demon watched slyly over his wine glass at the two, waiting for the sleeping drug to take effect. It wasn’t too long until they were yawning and stretching in their chairs, at which point Rael thought it prudent to show them the guest rooms.

He led them down a well lit passage, guiding them to two guest rooms that had a connecting door. He wished them goodnight, waiting to hear their breathing slow and in the case of Matt snores to arise before locking the doors securely. Chuckling softly, he took another passage that was far less well lit, using past experience to guide him to the surface. He had an appointment to keep.

AN:Constructive criticism welcome, and please forgive the dire summary!

EDIT: There have been alterations to this, but I'm still open to suggestions on how to improve. Enjoy!