|The Angel Kristoph
Author: Dr. Self Destruct PM
Can an angel still hope for redemption when the blood of countless innocents stains his hands? /Story Removed/Rated: Fiction M - English - Horror/Romance - Chapters: 43 - Words: 12,020 - Reviews: 719 - Favs: 99 - Follows: 62 - Updated: 07-24-12 - Published: 06-07-11 - Status: Complete - id: 2921736
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Chapter One: Sin
To be human is to fall.
"No. Please! Don't do this!" she begs, tears welling in her eyes.
"Trust me, sweetheart," I say. "Come tomorrow morning, you're gonna be thankin' me for this."
I've heard it all before, the crying and begging. But do they ever listen? No, they never listen. In fact they usually act like her: pathetic. I don't know why I expect it to be different. I've heard the definition of insanity is to do the same thing over and over, expecting a different outcome. Maybe I'm insane. I've been alive for over a hundred years, so if insanity is to blame I won't be surprised.
"Let him go! He hasn't hurt anyone!" she persists.
"Sweetheart, if I had the means to show you all the people this monster's sucked dry, I would. Trust me. You've no idea how many young women he's conned into your position. I know you're upset. I know you're thinkin' this is the end of your perfect little world, but it ain't." My grip on her shoulder tightens. "Now get the fuck outta my way before I blast you between the eyes."
I shove her to the side. She stumbles and falls to the floor in a shower of skinny limbs and blond hair. Her mascara leaves trails of slime down her pale face, and it's as attractive as a slug's excrement.
It reminds me how every helpless woman tries to hide behind her make-up. The whores hope it will make their tears more convincing, but it's a defense mechanism I've long ago overcome.
And unfortunately for her, the ugliness of her desperation only goes skin deep. The cries leaking from her lips transform her into an alluring creature. So long as she continues with her heart-wrenching concert, I don't need to look her in the face to get my rocks off.
My God, sweetheart. You have the voice of a cherub.
She watches me approach the vampire, her whimpers sending ecstasy down my spine. Ah, the noise is sex to my ears. Fingers shaking, I suppress the urge to plunge my hand inside my pants. It's almost too much for me to take in without letting something out.
Calm down, baby. You're gonna make me bust.
Her beloved monster is now a drooling mess slumped against a pew that's been shattered to pieces. Metal stakes keep him in place—my personal pincushion. In sneaks moonlight through a broken church window, and his skin glows. There's more blood on the floor and in his clothes than in his veins. Still the bastard hangs on, his cat-like eyes watching me.
Good. Watch your death, monster.
I love it when they're awake while I kill them.
"Please!" The girl grabs my ankle. "I'll do anything!"
"Anything, huh?" Chuckling, I reach into my coat. "You shouldn't make promises while on your knees, sweetheart. You might give me the wrong impression."
She recoils with a look of disgust, but she doesn't give up. From her lips drains more meaningless prattle, and I begin to wonder if the dying vampire in front of me is the only sane one left in the room. By this point the girl has proven to be more of a hurdle than the monster I came here to kill. Scoffing, shaking my head, my patience wears thin.
What makes people so afraid to face their lives? What's so bad about being human? This girl seeks shelter in a vampire's shadow; she's ready to sacrifice what makes her beautiful, complete, and perfect. What can this desecrated creature offer to make her world better, to deserve her devotion, and earn her love?
I'll never understand it.
A gleam of steel kisses the air, knife twisting and turning in my sweaty grip. The weapon shifts and adapts, transforms into a longer blade that I stick between my boots to prop myself up with the tip. With arms crossed and perched on the sword's pommel, I slowly stroke the hilt while contemplating how to finish my enemy. Decapitation? Disembowelment? Burning? Ah, the possibilities are endless.
From the way my adversary flashes a set of fangs, I get the feeling he can sense my thoughts. I have to give him credit for not begging for mercy. Instead of praying to his impotent lord, he continues to match my stare with the fires of Hell twirling in his crimson eyes. Tapping my finger on my sword, I watch his hair billow in a gust from a shattered, stained glass window. I can't help but feel unsatisfied from his lack of determination. I originally assumed a beast with his broad shoulders would give me a run for my money, but I was sorely mistaken.
Maybe it's true when they say size doesn't matter.
Breaking my concentration, from behind me the girl's wailing continues: "I don't understand. Why are you doing this?"
"You don't understand? It's become obvious you don't understand anything, sweetheart," I say over my shoulder, then pull a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of my coat. "Now, be quiet. I'm tryin' to make an important decision here. Or would you rather I start with you?"
While I take the time to light a cigarette, the vampire starts to laugh. I tense and snap my lighter closed. His voice begins as a wheeze, air escaping through the holes I've stabbed in his lungs. It melts together in a series of uneven chuckles, and they curl through the air drenched with his deception and brainwash. I can feel how his gift reaches out for the girl, how it skitters across the wooden planks and contaminates the room with his poison.
I've been immune to the touch of evil for decades, but all it takes is a few choice words to twist a human into a slave.
"What do you think is going to happen after he kills me, Sarah?" the vampire croaks. "Look into his eyes. He's a murderer and a deviant, not a savior."
So she has a name, huh? Not like it matters. Honestly, I'd rather not know; if I'm forced to resort to murder it'll make killing her all the easier when she's still a nameless face. Stereotypes die easy, but personality is harder to swallow.
"Don't listen to him, sweetheart." I puff on my cigarette and stifle a yawn. "You're nothin' more than dinner to him. Just stay back and I won't have to hurt you."
"He's lying, Sarah. That man's name is Kristoph. I've felt him hunting me for the past few days. He's an assassin. He can't let you live now that you've seen him."
Aw, don't spoil the surprise already, Mr. Vampire!
"Why?" Her eyes dart from me to him, frantic and wide. "I haven't done anything wrong."
You might not notice it, darlin', but I see my foe's fingers closin' around you, slippin' inside you, and violatin' you with every word.
Fuck, all this thinking is making my head throb. Both of them.
"It's how his people work, my dear," he says. "They seduce you with lies and blind you with secrets."
I stay still while watching him, too busy enjoying the tingle of nicotine and wading in my pool of lust. Part of me wants to intervene and cut his head from his shoulders, but there's the other part of me shamelessly hoping she'll fall victim to his power.
Then I can do anything I want with her. The thought of her innocence on my tongue? Ah, it makes me want to lick those honey tears right off her cheeks. But I won't stop there; no, there's still so much to taste. Trailing further down, I'll delve into her wetness until she's squirming and screaming, begging me to stop.
Stomach rumbling, I'm getting antsy, and all I can think is how sweet her pink fruit will taste.
"There's lust in his eyes, Sarah." The vampire pauses, lets loose another hacking cough. "He's picturing what he's going to do to you after he's killed me. I can see it! His hands violating your naked body—"
Grip tightening on my sword, I flourish it in a threatening arc. "That's it, you fuckin' monster. I'm gettin' bored. Enough of your games; it's time for the grand finale."
I take a step forward. My sword crawls and churns. My heart is a deafening drumline; lava courses through my veins and burns me from the inside out. Focusing my attention on my target's neck, I'm ready to deliver the final blow, more than happy to slice his head from his shoulders.
With boots treading through a river of blood, I lift my sword. It takes on the edge of a saw. I feel it already, metal tearing through flesh and bone. It makes me harder than the hilt pressed into my palm.
Sarah, though, she has her own ideas.
"No!" she screams.
She runs at me with a wild look in her eyes. My sword clatters to the floor. I seize her swinging fists. We're face to face, inches apart, and I peer into her soul. Pain. So much pain writhes beneath the surface, enough desperation to make my dick ache.
Fighting the impulse to latch my lips onto hers, I draw back, grip loosening. I'm about to let her go—
But she spits at me.
"You'll have to kill me first, monster!"
Ah, such spite! Such audacity!
It's wonderful. It's beautiful. It's delicious.
Laughing, I release one of her hands to wipe away the spit, whatever pity I felt now gone. She lashes out, and her nails leave three bloody marks on my cheek. My cigarette falls to the floor. Curious to learn how far she'll go to protect her monster, I stay still and let her do her worst.
I find out too late her worst entails kneeing me in the crotch.
Doubling over, my moan grows into a roar. She freezes, probably understanding her mistake, but I'm too busy moaning and rubbing to notice her apologetic look. Nausea grips my stomach. Falling to my hands and knees, the room spins. It feels like a thousand needles found themselves impaled through my dick.
"Oh—fuck me. It's all right. You're okay," I whisper soothingly to my poor, injured junk. "Don't worry, buddy, don't worry. This bitch is gettin' hers. She's done."
It's all fun and games until someone hits my cock.
Sarah just signed her own death warrant.
I backhand her. She stumbles away, her pain turning into pale-faced shock, but she still isn't finished. In the time it takes me to lean down and reclaim my weapon, caressing my balls in the process, she's forgotten the danger. She's gone; her eyes are hollow and black—the deepest abyss. The vampire fills her with his corrupted oil, and there's only one escape.
I lift my sword, tip pointed at her chest. The metal contorts into the barrel of a shotgun. Sarah freezes, eyes wide. Her humanity drains back into her.
"Wait!" She sinks to her knees, face level with my gun. "Please. Don't do this. Don't take this from me! I only wanted an escape—"
"An escape? An escape from what? Your life? The world? Look around you!" I swing an arm in the vampire's direction. "Is this what you really want? To be a monster? You're ready to sacrifice your humanity so you can be like him? You have no idea what you're askin' for, Sarah! What you're beggin' for! No fuckin' clue. Pathetic. You're just fuckin' pathetic, and I do this world a favor in wipin' you out."
She opens her mouth to continue, but it's too late. There's no swaying my conviction, nothing she can offer to change my mind. I pull the trigger—
And I save her from herself.
My fingers go numb. The throbbing in my dick disappears, replaced by my gunpowder's scream. As I'm hit by the heat of a climax, something wet splatters across my face. Licking it off my chin, I taste Sarah's soul writhing and begging for redemption. But the flavor of iron tastes like shit. She's damned, corrupted, no better than a corpse rotting in the sun. I hold on to her memory, draw it into my chest, and devour what's left.
Too bad it ain't much. The bitch leaves me hungry.
Staring at me with empty eyes and mouth agape, Sarah slumps to the floor. Her chest is littered with metal shrapnel, and my hands are stained by her blood. That's when I feel it: the old and familiar sting of an addictive drug. I've tasted it many times before, this mouthful of dirty pennies. I run my tongue over my teeth and gather up enough saliva to spit on the floor next to her head.
With my phlegm goes her memory.
Upon lifting my face, I notice a statue of Jesus staring down at the crumpled corpse before me. A chill runs down my spine, and I suddenly feel like a teenage boy whose father walks in on him while he's masturbating. Sighing, I lower the gun.
The vampire's laughter bubbles up behind me. Does he think he's attained victory over me? Giving my head the time it needs to come down from the clouds, I listen and reflect.
Gloating, huh? Do you really think I give a shit about this girl? You're adorable, Mr. Vampire.
"Now what, angel?" He forces his words through a throat filled with blood, and they come out a gurgle. "First you vividly picture violating that poor girl, then you cut her down with not even a shrug of morality. You and I are—"
"One and the same? Oh, if I only had a dime for all the times I've heard that one." I pause to wipe more blood off my face, laughing. "But you're forgetting one little detail, friend: you kill to survive. I do it because it's fun."
My gun extends into a serrated whip. I crack the barbed chain, and my cock jumps at the sound of metal. Mr. Vampire's jaw slackens. Did he think I was going to cut off his head with a swift, clean strike? Oh, no.
I want to see the bastard suffer!
The whip lashes out, coils around his neck. With a tug, the barbs sink into his skin.
He tries to beg for mercy.
But I have none left—my mercy was long ago twisted into the weapon constricting his throat. I step closer, lean forward, stare into his eyes, see everything I hate most in this world. Every bitch he's conned and every person he's drained. It's a slideshow of vice, a presentation of the wicked, but unfortunately for this motherfucker, I'm a thousand times worse than he'll ever be.
Warmth races down my spine. Lower extremities throbbing, I listen and wallow. The bastard's as good a screamer as Sarah. Hands shaking, jeans rubbing against my erection, I'm all atwitter.
But all good things must come to an end.
I plunge a hand into my pants and wrap it around my cock to encourage both my weapons. Biting my lip, I revel in evil.
Once I've had my fill, I pull and shower the air with his blood, turning him into a blast of fireworks.
I'm makin' it rain, fellas!
The head rolls and stops at my feet. I bend down and pick up what's left of my cigarette, then curl my fingers into the vampire's hair. My weapon shrinks and returns to its natural form, and I stuff the severed head into a burlap bag, swing it over my shoulder.
Sarah stares at me from across the room, her brown eyes taking on the hue of mud. I think I see worms squirming in her skull, but I might be losing my mind. Either way, I can't help notice there's more life in her face now than when I had first burst into the room. It's a fucking shame, too. Sarah had such an amazing voice; I was about to turn her into a squealing diva.
But in the end all I gave her was the only gift I know how to give: an escape from this outhouse of life.
Still finding it difficult to pull my eyes from her corpse, I take one last drag from my cigarette. I ogle her cold canvas of baby-smooth skin now spotted with patches of blood. The painting of a goddess comes to mind, naivety forever frozen in her stare. My lower half stirs, heart commences to race, but I shake my head before it goes out of control.
Sorry, sweetheart. If things were different I'd give your corpse the attention it deserves, but, unfortunately, I'm in a hurry. You understand, don't you?
After flicking my cigarette into the pool of blood surrounding her body, I turn toward the door.
Frailty, thy name is woman!
With bloody trophy in hand, I traverse between the pews. I ignore the desecrated statues of God and Jesus—desecration performed by the headless monster now slumped beneath them. He might have escaped their judgment once, but he won't do so again.
The church doors slam shut behind me, and I plunge through the darkness in the direction of my master.
Author's Note: This is the first chapter to a manuscript I've recently submitted for potential publication, which is why all the chapters after this have been removed. I have recently uploaded the entire, fully edited story on a new website ran by me. You can find the link to it on my profile under The Angel Kristoph's summary.
For those of you who have reviewed, favorited, and alerted this, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. If it wasn't for all the kind comments and constructive criticism, I never would have found the motivation to finish Kristoph's story (or, rather, begin it, because you haven't seen the last of poor Kristoph quite yet).
I'll be sure to keep everyone updated on my slow, painstaking effort to get published.