Savage Divinity

Total Word Count: 35865



A throat cleared. Annoyed, he looked up, just as the servant did, its eyes darting around and the heart rate pounding so much faster. "Playing around again?" a voice inquired, sounding bored.



He growled in response. "Couldn\'t you have left me to my fun?" The servant was too tense now to be of any use, and it was no use trying to pretend he was occupied with the other here. He shooed the servant off his lap. It went away, fleeing the hall rather quickly. He watched it go with a reluctance of eye. "There, you see? You just chased my pet away."



"Oh, so sorry. Do forgive me." The Other\'s voice was thick with sarcasm. "You do realize that we have more pressing problems than your pleasure, don\'t you?"



He leaned his head back. "Dearest one, I know what is fun and what is not. I know what is pressing and what is not. I have no difficult differentiating work from pleasure." He looked up and quirked an eyebrow. "Are you jealous?"



"Jealousy is something reserved for greater forms of life," came the bland reply. "It is not something I – as a mere instrument – am encouraged to possess."



That made him laugh. "So you have learned a lesson."



"I have learned many lessons," the Other answered wryly. "Which I choose to remember are the ones I deem of greatest importance."



He stretched and focused his attention on the Other fully. "What have you that you would disrupt me?"



"Milord, the three are awake again."



"That\'s it?" He raised an eyebrow. Mere wakefulness would not be enough to send someone to him. "Or is there something you\'re not telling me?"



The Other shrugged, a fluid motion in catching. "Mayhap there is something I am ignorant of, or forgetting to say. Mayhap not." An insolent smile colored the face.



"Only you would dare address your better in such a manner." He sighed. "Fine then. Lead the way if you will." He levered himself out of the chair and bowed ironically, indicating for the Other to lead the way. He intended to follow.



The Other bowed back, this one a deep, full and formal bow, not a mocking pretender. "Then I shall, milord."



He shook his head as they left the black marble hall. "How many times must I ask you not to call me \'milord\'? I\'ve said it enough – call me Lucifer."



"As you will, milord."



xxx



Someone had come to each of them in turn and brought them out of their rooms, led them to a larger room, rather like a holding pen, and left them there. They could see one another, could touch and talk. There was a small comfort in that, but not enough to make them comfortable. Reson and his red hair, Asher and his ashen, Aron of the chestnut mane – the three blending so perfectly in with the blackness of the marble that they were hardly distinguishable. It was the clothing they were left with – someone had taken their older stuff (or maybe something had burned it away…) and left them with robes of pitch and nightmare.



Dressed in such, they resembled no more than facets of the walls themselves, hair covered by choice with a hood that shielded the face as well. Each regarded the others with a curiosity bordering on animalism. It was as if they had never seen one another before.



From behind the one way mirrors around the room, Lucifer watched, his faithful attendant beside him. "They don\'t remember each other?" he mused, watching their motions forward and back, a slow approach and swift retreat repeated again and again.



"They do," came the reply, "but they are connecting one another with the fire. Subconsciously, if nothing else. They see the others as cause for distress, but can\'t fathom quite why."



"Hence approach and retreat," he mused.



"Yes."



Lucifer ran a hand along the glass, watching as the red-headed Reson snarled aggressively to the approach of the other two. "That one," he said, indicating Reson with a wave of his hand, "he\'s not like the other two, is he?"



"No, milord. That one would be true blood angel, or \'Vilyte\' as they call themselves. Currently the Vilyte occupy the south and east of their frontier – a plane known collectively as Sempra. It\'s similar to Earth in terrain."



"Fascinating," he breathed. Then a little louder, "And what about the other two?"



"Half bloods," his attendant supplied. "A mix of the human race – which they refer to as neodemons – and angel blood. They are considered polluted by the Vilyte. Currently these half bloods – collectively known as Angel-stock, referencing crossbreeding, I believe – occupy the remainder of their frontier, in a more fog-saturated area known as Ten."



"Have I told you, you are most helpful?" Lucifer inquired, still watching the three with fascination. Asher had scratches across his face from Reson. The three were watching each other like wildcats, having staked out territory of a sort within the room. It seemed that the two dubbed as Angel-stock – namely Asher and Aron – were quite a bit looser with one another. Their territory, as it were, merged somewhere in the middle, so it only appeared Reson controlled the greater portion of the room. It was something like a two to five ratio for the redhead with the remaining three to five split and shared with the Angel-stock.



"They\'re hunting animals," Lucifer observed.



"Not quite animals," his attendant amended, "but close. They work in packs, just like their ancestors did."



"Fascinating." He paused, toying with an idea. "If they came from human origins, then is it possible to re-cross the lines?"



"Returning to a breeding program?"



He nodded, turning his full attention back to the glass, watching. "They still bleed white. It\'s about time I showed them why my cousin left them."



"Your… cousin, milord?"



Lucifer\'s fingers traced the glass outlining the patterns of movement. "Yes, my cousin," he replied absently. "Or didn\'t you know we\'re all interrelated?"



"I did not."



"Well, you know now."Lucifer tapped the glass lightly. A dull pinging noise disrupted the apparent spat between the three. They all froze, looking around wildly, backing out of one another\'s reach as they did so. It was amusing to watch, Lucifer decided. He tapped the glass once more, harder this time, the sharp rap making a more pronounced noise.



"It is probably in their best interests if you declined from continuing that."



He nodded. "Then I will. Look into the program for me, will you? It\'s about time, I think. They\'ve been here for how long?"



"A month now, milord."



"Only that long? Well…maybe it is a bit early, but so be it. I\'m tired of waiting. See how many of the others you can get to help you. You have my seal to do what is necessary. I\'ll be ready when you are."



The Other nodded and disappeared, leaving Lucifer to watch his creatures. They had healed up rather nicely from when he first saw them. The injuries – broken bones, bruised limbs, burned lungs, frayed lives – had healed for the most part. He\'d seen to it that their care had been the best he could possibly provide. Each individual had been carefully attended every waking moment and most of their sleeping ones as well. The Others had done a very good job with them.



He ran his hands over the glass again, content in watching, but wishing that he could be on the other side, an invisible spectator, altering the environment and watching their frightened reactions. To be able to control them, the way my dear cousin once did… It\'s a pity he left them all alone. More a pity that so few of them are salvageable. They\'ve been so corrupted by their own needs that there\'s barely any room left for improvement.



But these three… Improvable, certainly. Malleable, shapeable – oh these three would be fun. He heard something skittering down the hall. Another servant perhaps. The tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lips. Time to continue where I left off. The Others will take care of what needs their care. He abandoned his post, going down the hall, following the sounds of feet scuttling over floor.



xxx



Several days later…



"Milord, we have compiled the charts and the characters for whom you had asked."



He nodded to the Other. It was a bit shorter and pudgier than his own personal attendant, and not nearly so well cultured, but it would suffice for now. He accepted the paperwork with a sardonic smile and leafed through it. Everything was in neat order – his attendant\'s work. "Perfect. Send the Others in. I will be in attendance shortly." For now, he had a little bit of consulting to do.



Once the hall was emptied, his attendant appeared. "That one could use work."



"I agree," Lucifer murmured, looking through the pages in more detail now. There were charts and bloodlines and all sorts of nonsense he would have declared utterly ridiculous if it hadn\'t been for the necessity of knowing how to create these creatures. "It\'ll take to it with some work, I think."



The Other sniffed disdainfully. "If it doesn\'t then it won\'t be my problem any longer."



Lucifer smiled slightly. Trust his attendant to be so hard on the Others. "Well then, shall we?" he asked, rising to his feet and stretching a little; sitting on a marble throne all day was not highly conducive to staying limber.



The Other nodded. "We shall." Lucifer followed closely behind. It wasn\'t that he didn\'t know the way to the pens, but more that he almost enjoyed having a sort of loosened sense of control when it came to this particular Other. It was an interesting arrangement. He held the absolute control over his realm, but there were a pair who could speak to him with almost no fear of retribution, no matter how crass their words.

Perhaps it would become five, if the trio of angel-lings were properly trained before breeding.



xxx



"Well, they certainly look quite a bit different." And indeed they did. The three angels were bound in the holding pen, each blindfolded and gagged as well, with hands tied behind their backs. For the first time since the day when he had first brought them back, Lucifer walked among them, feeling their strong presences echoing against the outside of his own. He faded from image to image as he passed among them – shifting appearance from what he usually looked like to what they had each first seen of him. It was less than instinct – more sophisticated than mere design. He changed to what they saw as comforting or fearful. He was always unaware of exactly what they found comforting or frightening, but the air knew, and it carried.



"Where are the stock?" he inquired after circling around each several times in inspection. They were lined up, several feet between them, hands tied to poles that had been installed, one to each third of the room, vertically. The arrangement gave no leeway for shifting, which he appreciated.



The Other handed him yet another set of papers, painstakingly organized.



The angel he was nearest – the darling redheaded one, Reson – snarled (or attempted to) around the gag. Lucifer laughed softly. "Make sure they\'re completely subdued before you do anything further," he commanded the Other. "It wouldn\'t do for any of the breeding stock to be ripped to shreds by an unruly extra." Not that that was possible anyway. Breeding didn\'t require the extras to be mobile. "That\'s all."



"Yes, milord," the Other answered, though it was hardly a question requiring a response. "I will see it done."



Lucifer nodded and then backed off, out of the way, but still in the room, taking up residence in a quiet corner, ready to watch them. His eyes darted from Reson to Asher to Aron and back, contemplating their varying reactions with great amusement. This would be an interesting procedure to say the least.



A door opened. He looked up. They were bringing in the stock. A smirk colored his face. Let the fun begin.



xxx



Reson\'s ears burned from the strain of listening without listening. Every small noise was amplified, bludgeoning his eardrums with excruciating pain of over loud noise. It hurt! He felt footsteps as much as heard them. His ears felt like they were bleeding. In desperation, he lashed out – or tried to – but his mouth, gagged to prevent sound, and tied back painfully, would not snap together the way it should have. The snarl that he released sounded like a gurgle at best.



Where am I?



He knew he was in a room, a black room. The black room, if he had to guess. There was only one black room that was The Room. It was the one where he was forced to see the other two, to fight them. Being in the same room as them was perilous. It was dangerous – they represented something, and he couldn\'t remember quite what it was. Steam and smoke and smog and terrible things. Things he wanted to keep away from. They had to stay away from him!



He was used to fighting them in this place. Being tied up, restrained, he couldn\'t fight. How was he supposed to protect himself if he couldn’t fight?



And with the footsteps – what if that was one of them? The bad things would be coming then. He didn\'t want the bad things. He wanted…he didn\'t know what he wanted, but the bad things were not it.



The gag in his mouth tasted heavily of sweat and slightly of blood. It felt heavy in his mouth, pulled back at the corners to give him aches in unwieldy places, like he had been forced into smiling too wide, too long. And his hands weren\'t free. There was something behind him, some sort of bar that he was connected to. He couldn\'t get away.



Fear. FearfearfearfearFEAR.



And the sounds of speech hurt his ears. He wanted to scream, to cover his ears with his hands, except that first would hurt even more and the second was physically impossible. So he writhed, trying fruitlessly to free himself even as the sounds of clanging echoed in his head, ringing around long after the actual sound had dissipated.



The sounds of feet, many, many feet entered, beating their own melodies out across the marble floor, pitter pattering from hither and thither, circling around in one way and then the other. He heard panting, hard out through the nostrils. It sounded sharper than through the mouth. There were whines, and other noises he couldn\'t put a name to. It sounded painful, whatever it was.



Satisfied growling twittered to his ears then. There were more than just them, then. There were more than just the three of them – he\'d known that already, but hadn\'t though the others weren\'t tethered…



What\'s going on? his mind wailed. He agreed. He wanted to know too.



The pattering got closer.



xxx



Hyper sharpened senses picked up the scent of someone new in the room. Someone smelling of faded ash, rusted metal and cinnamon had entered. The odor emanated from some core of person, circling steadily, coming closer and drifting farther. Asher shook his head slightly. He could still detect the scents of the other two – knew they were still there, one to either side. He felt virtually deaf, was blind, but for whatever reason, he could smell them, and the husky scent of sweat and fear rose off them, coloring their presences to his nose. Reson to his right, Aron to his left, bleeding out in terror.



Well, perhaps not terror, but annoyance and uncertainty surely. They were no more comfortable with the way of things than he was. He was happy to have them at a distance, though. It was aggravating to be exposed to them in close proximity. At least this way they spent their time away from him. They didn\'t overwhelm him with their scent.



But…dimly he heard something clicking. He wouldn’t have heard it at all, even, if he hadn\'t been assaulted by the scent of at least a dozen new bodies, pouring into the room. He had already processed their existence when it came to him – new people. He began to struggle, yanking on the tethers holding him stationary. He smelled some sharp, strange odor coming from the bodies to either side. Whining, that he could hear softly in the background.



His fear intensified at the new, steadily growing scent. It was coating all the bodies that were new, covering their original, distinct scents with something more powerful, tingeing all of them with the odor. He fought his bonds harder. What was happening?



And that scent coming from the sides – he was losing track of who the others were. He couldn\'t smell them anymore, couldn\'t taste their presence, so lost was it in a haze of flooding aroma both sickly and devilishly sweetened.



What\'s going on?



What was happening? He wanted to know, needed to know.



He jerked his hands harder, feeling leather cutting into skin, and the sharp, tangy scent of blood reached him.



xxx



Lucifer regarded the scene with interest.