Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Angels and Demons ❯ Trouble ( Chapter 9 )

A/N: Sorry for this one being so short, but it's just sort of a filler chapter.

 

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A strong, burly man stood before the Baron. The Baron surveyed him for a moment. “Am I correct to assume you are Abbadon?” he asked.

 

Abbadon nodded. “Yes, my lord,” he said.

 

“What brings you here, Abbadon?” the Baron asked, seeming bored.

 

“Demons, my lord,” he said, his voice thick with a foreign accent.

 

The Baron arched an eyebrow.

 

“My companions and I encountered one whilst traveling last night,” Abbadon said.

 

“Did you take care of it?” the Baron asked, skeptical.

 

Abbadon shook his head. “It bested us,” he said. “But that's not why I'm here. We tracked it to the cemetery. We fear it may prey on the innocent who visit there.”

 

The Baron was silent and thoughtful. “What does this demon look like?”

 

“He appears an ordinary man,” Abbadon said. “But his hair is of the purest silver, and his eyes are evil. His teeth are fanged, and he is of super-human strength. I have reason to believe that he could lure away any young woman, for he is very handsome.” He paused and narrowed his eyes. “You look concerned, my lord.”

 

The Baron blinked. “No, I'm fine,” he said. He thought for a moment. Could that be why Amber spent so much time at the cemetery? Rupert said she was always there as of late. Was she under some demon's spell? He looked at Abbadon. “Find this demon and slay him. If he really exists, you will bring me a lock of his hair.”

 

Abbadon nodded, his eyes relieved. “Yes, my lord,” he said, bowing.

 

The Baron watched him, knowing what he wanted. “And feel free to use any of the resources available to you. I will cover the expenses,” he said, glaring at Abbadon. “Now be gone. You have work to do.”

 

Abbadon bowed once more, then walked away.

 

The Baron scowled. He needed to check on his lovely neighbor.

 

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Amber sat in her library, reading a book. She was surprised when a knock sounded on the library door. She looked up, sniffling a bit. “Come in,” she said, realizing her voice sounded a little raspy.

 

Rupert opened the door. “Milady,” he said. “The Baron is here to see you.”

 

“Let him in,” she said, closing her book. She looked up as the Baron walked in. A smiled lit her face.

 

“Good morning, milady,” he said, taking her hand. He gently kissed it. “You seem better. I'm glad your cold is not severe.”

 

“As am I, my lord,” she said pleasantly. Her eyes lost the light spark they had held a moment before.

 

“Is something wrong?” the Baron asked, seeing her fall into her thoughts.

 

She let her gaze fall to the floor. “I shan't hold you up, my lord,” she said, “since I know you are busy.” She let her hazel eyes meet his stormy blue ones. “I thought about your proposal. I can't decide in one day. Please, allow me more time to decide.”

 

The Baron nodded. “I see,” he said. He let his gaze falter. “Perhaps I can wait a few more days.”

 

Amber moved to her feet. “Thank you, my lord,” she said happily, clutching the book to her chest.

 

He shook his head. “Please,” he said. “Don't thank me. Just choose what you feel is right.”

 

She nodded. “I will.”

 

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The Baron left Amber's mansion feeling somewhat irritated. Why was she hesitating? The day before he was certain she wanted to say yes. What made her second guess herself?

 

Then Abbadon's words came to mind. Was it possible this demon really was controlling her? He walked to his horse, a tall black Friesian.

 

He climbed onto its back and rode swiftly away. He needed to find Abbadon; already a plan was forming in his mind. He would have Amber and her wealth, and no force in heaven or on earth would stop him.

 

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Dante watched the four demon hunters carefully. He laughed at their ignorance of vampires. They armed themselves only with garlic, wooden stakes, and crosses. Each `weapon' they brought was harmless.

 

It was true vampires hated garlic, but who wouldn't with a sense of smell as keen as his? The wooden stake might puncture his skin, but it would leave no lasting injuries. As for the crosses, they humored him greatly. What were they going to do, save him to death?

 

He glanced at the waning sun. The only weapon they possessed that posed any threat was their silver daggers. The pure silver burned his skin, and was quite deadly. If he were ever stabbed, he could be sure that a second death would follow.

 

He stood easily on the branch he was perched on. He leapt to the ground noiselessly, walking into the cemetery. His footsteps were silent, and he sat on a tombstone, waiting for Amber. He waited well into the night, listening to Dramuela stalk the small creatures that lived in the graveyard. He sat calmly, his eyes closed, his ears listening. The wind blew his liquid silver hair about his shoulders, prickling his skin.

 

He opened his eyes slowly. The moon lit the cemetery as clearly as the sun, and his eyes caught movement. Dramuela walked silently toward him, a wicked grin on her face.

 

“She's coming,” she said quietly. Her eyes sparkled with contempt. “And so are the creature-hunters.”

 

Dante narrowed his eyes, watching her walk away. If Amber was in danger, she would whistle. He inhaled deeply, closing his electric eyes again. He felt a chill in the air. Something was not right.

 

But he could not leave. Not yet. If Amber needed him she would whistle. Otherwise he could not risk blowing his cover. He needed to stay put, until she summoned him.

 

Suddenly his eyes flew open. He stood, his nose detecting the smell of blood on the wind. He was completely still as he listened. There was nothing at first, but then he heard it again. Amber needed him.

 

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Aato loped slowly down the road. Amber looked ahead, the moon lighting the path before her. She knew it was shortly after midnight. As she went on, she thought about the man she had seen earlier that day. She wondered if he was still there.

 

She neared the spot where he had been, feeling anxious. She passed it without incident. She was coming around the bend to the cemetery, when suddenly Aato spooked. He leapt to side, hopping and bucking. He unseated Amber, throwing her from his back. She was only in the air for a moment, but when she landed, the air was knocked from her lungs.

 

She lay on the ground for a moment, coughing. She stared up at the sky, the sound of Aato's hoof beats fading into the distance. She tried to call him back, but her voice wouldn't come. After a moment, she sat up and looked around. She struggled to her feet, but fell back, wincing in pain. After resting a moment, she stood, her body already bruised and aching. She took a few hesitant steps, then stopped. She felt her heart leap as she turned to gaze into the forest. Something was moving in the brush.

 

She took several steps away, watching as four men emerged from the trees. She recognized the one from earlier. She felt suddenly afraid. They didn't look like they'd come to see if she was alright.

 

“It's dangerous to be out so late, Milady,” the man purred.

 

She stepped back. She glanced around, wishing Aato would come back.

 

“Don't worry about that fine pony of yours,” he said, advancing on her. “We'll take care of him once you're gone.”

 

Amber's eyes widened. They intended to kill her, and who knows what else. “What do you want?” she whispered.

 

He sneered. “Nothin' I can't just take,” he growled. He grabbed her arm.

 

Amber struggled against him. “If you hurt me, you'll be sorry,” she whispered fiercely.

 

He snickered. “What are you going to do about it?” he asked tauntingly.

 

Her eyes narrowed. “This,” she said, pulling a little dagger from her boot. She tried to slash him.

 

He jumped back, narrowly avoiding her blade. “You wench!” he growled, swinging his arm at her. His hand struck her face, knocking her to the ground.

 

She stared at the road, the taste of blood in her mouth. She felt it running from her lips, and she wiped it away. She looked at her fingers, which were stained crimson. She looked up at him, anger and hurt in her eyes. She watched as he reached down, grabbing her by the front of her cloak. He lifted her toward him.

 

“You'll pay for that,” he hissed.

 

She struggled in his grasp, then remembered the whistle. She fumbled for it, lifting it to her lips. She saw a surprised look cross his face, but when she blew it, he began to laugh.

 

She blew again, hearing nothing. She began to panic. The whistle wasn't working. She looked up into his eyes.

 

“So much for calling for help,” he sneered. He drew closer to her. “Maybe if you scream…”

 

Amber closed her eyes. She refused to cooperate. She opened her eyes and glanced over his shoulder, her hope fading. Then something caught her eye.

 

“Dante,” she breathed, relief in her voice.

 

The man turned, glancing over his shoulder. “What?” He released his grip on her, shock on his face. He watched as Dante neared. “Demon,” he whispered. He pushed Amber to the ground.

 

“So, we meet again,” Dante said quietly, his voice steely.