The Night Breed

Gideon burst through the back entrance of the Underground, the bitingly cold midjanuary air making his breath catch in his throat for a moment. He had been in such a rush to leave the crowded bar that he hadn’t thought to grab his black bomber jacket hanging on the back of his chair.

Baring his teeth in a cringe he was finally able to do what he couldn’t inside the club, where anyone could see, and rested his weight against the cold stone of the building, holding his throbbing head in his hands. It was a familiar, agonizing pain that he loathed almost more than the ones that had cursed him to feel such sensation.

It was also a weakness that he could never allow other’s to see.

Many would say it was wrong for an Angel to be so prideful; but maybe that was one of the reason’s he had fallen in the first place.

That, and about a handful of other reasons. Such as greed, doubt, mistrust, and betrayal.

What about love? Gideon moaned, a new pain filling him this time, and one that dug far more deep.

He felt his legs give out under him and fell to his knees; biting down hard on his tongue to keep from crying out, even when he felt the sharp metallic taste of blood fill his mouth.
This wasn’t supposed to be happening now! It was still hours before midnight! He had to get somewhere else quick, somewhere where no one would possibly find him. Now the only problem was getting his legs to work.

Gathering all his strength Gideon pushed himself to his feet. He forced his eyes to pry open, even though all they wanted was to stay heavy and shut, and looked desperately around him for any place he could hide.

Luckily Underground was hidden deep in the bayou’s of Mississippi, so he was relatively certain that no human would find him and mistake him for a dead man, and then take him to a human hospital.

That would go wrong in so many ways.

What he was especially worried about, though, was a Night Breed finding him. He knew the last thing on their minds would be rushing him to a hospital.

Gideon knew the nonhumans for the vicious animal like breed they were. Sure, they still had compassion and a sense of moral righteousness, but deep inside they were nothing more than feral predators.

If a lion came across another weak, sickly lion, they didn’t sit at their bedside with a bowl of hot soup and handful of medicine.

No. If they saw weakness in any form they were quick to strike.

The Night Breed may look human (well, some at least) but skin deep they were all savage animals. Gideon had watched them for centuries, had seen what they were truly capable of as they butchered innocents.

The Were-Breed; newly turned and having no control of their animal selves during the full moon, he had watched them massacre whole families. Even their own.

Demons; born of Hades evil design, he had watched them kidnap human babies right from the cribs.

And vampires? Oh, gods, the vampires. While they had never actually harmed humans (that he knew of) they had sucked Night Breed dry, still aware that once they had fed from them, they would transition, become vampires themselves. The only way to stop the process was to sever their head’s from their bodies, and seeing how vampires were all about pureness the thought of creating half breeds was abhorrent to them. They murdered so many for that pureness that they put Hitler to shame.

No. The Night Breed were nothing like humans. Even the Seelie Fey had a secret, vicious side, do gooders that they were.

As for him? Gideon was another Breed altogether. While he had been created by the god’s as well, he had been created for good. To watch. To protect. To help those in need.

Ha. Look at him now. My how the mighty fall, and fall he had.

A bitter laugh bubbled from his throat, despite the mind numbing pain, and he stumbled forward, almost falling on his face.

He had to find shelter fast. The darkness was already crowding his vision, his body growing deathly cold. His movements became sluggish and it took everything in him to keep his eyes from gluing together.

Just…a little…more..

He went tumbling face first towards the ground. Suddenly a cold arm snaked around his middle and the decent slowed. Didn’t stop, but slowed. Gideon knew without looking that Bastian had grabbed a hold of him, and knew that his weight was too much for the Ice Fey.
So instead of flat out falling to his face he instead went to his knees.

“By the god’s you need to lose some weight!” The Ice Fey’s words echoed in his ears, his icy breath chilling Gideon’s neck. The man had always been like a damned walking freezer.
Gideon opened his mouth to reply with something super smart ass but his tongue seemed too thick for his mouth and he wasn’t able to get a sound out.

“Nothing? Does that mean I win? I think it does.” Bastian said smugly and Gideon somehow managed to snort. With a grunt Bastian pulled them both to their feet again, his arm wrapped tight around Gideon while he pulled Gideon’s arm around his thin shoulders.
“So..rry..” He finally croaked though clenched teeth as Bastian began dragging him towards the cover of trees. He knew that he wasn’t the smallest of people and was very grateful that the Ice Fey was helping him, even if Gideon was scared he would crush the man if they fell.
Bastian was just to slender and…fail. Or at least it appeared so on the outside. Inside, Gideon knew the man was a wall of impenetrable ice.

But Gideon knew first hand that Bastian wasn’t as detached and controlled as he would have people believe.

As they continued forward Gideon’s boot sudden caught on a root sticking from the earth and they both tumbled forward. He managed to twist his body so they landed on their side’s and he didn’t squish Bastian, and the last thing he saw before the darkness claimed him completely was Bastian’s ivory white face above him, his blue eyes dark with worry.

Then the world became void of all light. Cold seeped into his very soul until he doubted even the fires of hell could warm him. And he should know; because Hell was where he ended up. One second there was only nothingness, and the next he stood on the bank of a black river. Screams filled the air, the agony and misery in the tone so intense that it took everything Gideon had not to clamp his hands over his ears and block out the horrific sound. He did cringe though, baring his teeth in a hiss.

The black, scorched earth below his feet began to shake then, and he jumped away just in time as a small gusher of lava shot up from a crack in the rock. The scorching red hot substance blazed and flowed all throughout the cavern. It bubbled from the floors, it leaked from the ceiling in thick gushes and sizzled loudly the moment it touched the black waters of the river.

It was Styxx, the river of forgetfulness. Gideon had manifested close to the water’s edge and now looked down at the swirling souls. They were flowing wisps of white, and their faces were contorted in agony. Where their eyes and mouths should have been were only black gaping holes, and the sight reminded Gideon of the famous painting The Scream. Perhaps Edvard Munch had glimpsed hell through some dream vision and painted the image to rid his mind of the horror. The souls, though, would never be able to escape. They were the ones that clung desperately to their old lives. The ones that longed for what had once been and strived to have it back. They were placed in the river to have their memories removed, until they became empty walking shells. They lingered in the lava filled cavern, moving slowly, their gaze’s unseeing and sorrowful moans slipping from their gaping black mouths. They knew nothing but longing, a sense for something they could not place but something that drove them to the brink of madness none the less.

Though they seemed otherwise, they were harmless. Their only purpose was to cause fear. For whom? The sinned souls being lead across the river. The ones that were lined up at its edge.

Unlike the others, these had faces, which were contorted in fear and desperation. They fought against the chains binding them together, chains that bound their wrists and ankles, allowing only enough room for a single step forward. They were being ushered, no, pulled, by an invisible force towards a small boat dock at the edge of the waters.

Unable to help himself Gideon found his feet carrying him towards the line of sinners. The moment they saw him they ceased their struggles. Some fell to their knees, while other’s strained towards him, their faces rapt in hope.

“Help us, please!” A man near him spoke. He looked to be in his early forties. His hair was light brown and thinning, and his cheeks, like his belly, was sagging and fat. His body, along with others, was bare of all cloth, and dripped with perspiration from the smoldering heat inside the cavern. A heat that Gideon could not actually feel. Unlike everyone else doomed to this world of hellfire and brimstone, he was more than just a soul which had departed its body after death; his had been ripped away and pulled below not by a force of evil, but good.

A god had cursed him long ago to walk these fire filled caverns. To cross the black river Styxx and enter the land across the waters. And unlike this side of the water where no physical harm could actually befall someone, on the other side of the river it was another story entirely.

At his thoughts Gideon lifted his gaze to the other side, where demon’s waited eagerly. They were of every shape and size, some as tall as a house, some not even reaching his knees. They ranged from grotesque, monstrous monstrosities to eerily beautiful beings. But Gideon knew first hand that beauty was just a façade to hide the true evil inside. There were many ranks in the demon hierarchy, but for some reason the higher the rank, the more beautiful the demon.

It was a blasphemous thing, to have a being of pure evil appear so angelic.

But Hades had always been one for irony. No doubt the god had made it so as a last spark of hope for the sinned souls. After all, seeing someone of such pure beauty in such an abominable place one would think that surly a savior had appeared to deliver them from their doomed fate. They would never suspect that they those beautiful creatures were the most vicious and blood hungry breed of their kind.

In the centuries since Gideon had been cursed he had witnessed the blackness of their hearts so many times that his mind would forever be scarred by their monstrous deeds.
Gideon had let his mind wonder, but was jerked back by the sudden tugs and pulls at his soul. The humans had gathered around him and begun jerking at his cloths and body, their frantic cries invading his ears.

“Please, Angel, save us!” A crone begged at his feet, her withered face upturned to him in hope and desperation. She bent her white head and placed a kiss at his feet, and Gideon jerked backwards in repulsion. Her soul was blacker than the darkest pit of hell, and in its swirling ambiance Gideon could see all her sins that had brought her to this place. There was one in particular, though, that made his blood run cold. Colder than it already was in this fiery place.

She had murdered her own daughter many years ago. Holding the child’s head under water as she had bathed her. When the child’s last spark of life had been vanquished, the woman had dried her off, ever so carefully, and dressed her in a pink and white lacy gown before laying her down to bed. The child had barely passed her first year.

The woman had destroyed something so innocent, so helpless, without even flinching. Hell was not the only place that demons were spawned.

Gideon pushed all of their hands away, stepping just out of reach. They pulled against their chains with cries of longing, their greedy hands reaching for his glowing body that signified him as a Heavenly being. How Gideon hated that light, that white pureness. It was a beacon to all the dark hearts surrounding him and brought far more attention than he wanted.

“Angel! Please don’t leave, help us! We don’t belong here!” The desperate pleas of the damned. The lies of a man at his end. Gideon had heard them many times before and would hear them many times after.

Just then a chorus of screams filled the air, and Gideon, along with the rest of the sinners, turned to look across the river where the Ferryman, Charon, had just dropped off his newest loads of souls.

The sight was ghastly. The demons that had been pacing the edge of the bank closed in on the humans before their feet could even touch the ground. The lower ranked demons, the ones that rarely were able to eat and main because their victims were stolen (by their higher ranked brethren) were the first to dig their claws and teeth into the humans.

They had them pinned down and were ripping them open and eating at their entrails faster than Gideon could blink. They knew if they were to have their bellies full they had to act quickly. Higher ranked demons, on the other hand, took their time. They chased their victims in a game of cat and mouse, purposefully moving slower than the humans to give them a false sense of hope before their urges took over and they pounced. The highest of the demon breeds, the few that were there, played the rescuer, luring the humans away with their unearthly beauty.

Those humans would know a fate far worse than death. Not that there was a death for them. No. They lived through it all. Though the claws cutting at their skin, through the sharp teeth eating at their flesh. Through the rapes, the torture, the agony. The soul was eternal. Their bodies would regenerate, their organs grown back, and they would be whole once again only to have the traumatic process start anew.

“Oh, God, help us!” A man near him whispered, the first to speak after the group had fallen into shocked and horrified silence. The others immediately joined his prayers, begging God to save them.

Gideon almost laughed bitterly. What they would think if they knew it was not only one, but various god’s that damned them?

Charon’s boat had begun its return and was half way across the lake already. The demon was cloaked in black, a large hood obscuring his face. In his right hand he held an old oil lamp, its dim blaze glowing eerily in the darkness. As he drew near the damned souls began to thrash against their chains with more enthusiasm, now driven mad with the need to run. Charon, ever the silent torturer, made sure the trip to the dock was as slow and nerve wrecking as possible, until the souls were all screaming madly, clawing at their own wrists and ankles to try and escape the binds.

It was hopeless. The chains were crafted from magick and could only be removed the same. So the more they dug at their skin, the tighter the chains became. In the end all they had succeeded in doing was making the demons across the river mad with the scent of their blood. Now they would be even more eager to sink their fangs into their flesh and bone.
Suddenly the chains snapped tight, and they were all tugged forward as Charon finally docked. The cloaked demon bet to gather the end of the chain, which was attached to his boat, and begun pulling the souls in. They struggled violently, their crazed screams filling the caverns, but were pulled in all the same.

When the last was in, the demon then turned to Gideon. Thought he fallen couldn’t see his face, Gideon knew somehow that he wore an impatient expression. Like he always did, Gideon fought the compulsion to step onto the craft, but as always the curse was just too strong and his legs carried him forward on their own accord. Charon stepped aside to allow him entry, and Gideon wondered what the Ferryman thought of a still living soul crossing the river. The soul of an angel at that.

If the demon thought anything, though, he didn’t voice it. Gideon had never actually heard the man talk at all. For all he knew it could have been a woman under that cloak. Granted, Charon stood at about six feet, but Gideon had seen women taller.

Amazons, for instant. They were all giants. Some even as tall as him, and that was pretty damned tall.

Charon cocked his/her head, as if aware of Gideon’s thoughts and amused, but then turned away as the boat pushed from the dock. The boat moved on magick so Charon had to do nothing more than stand there and appear intimidating, and Gideon was sure to the human’s that just how the demon seemed.

Though all demons had a certain sense of evil about them, Charon’s was so overwhelming that it even choked Gideon at times. Gideon couldn’t help but feel that whatever was under that cloak, male or female, it was something very old. And everyone knew with age came power.

Charon turned a cloaked head slowly to him then, and lifted the oil lamp a bit higher. The glow from the flame created new shadows to fall in the billows of the cloak, and shown just brightly enough for Gideon to catch a brief glance at super pale skin, then a flash of bright lavender. Then the demon had turned its gaze again to straight ahead.

That flash of purple, had it been the demon’s eyes? If so it was incredibly creepy.

Cloaked shoulders began to lift and fall in jerking movements then. Laughing? The bastard was actually laughing? “You can read my thoughts, can’t you?” If Charon was going to give a reply it was interrupted by the sudden rocking of the boat. Turning Gideon discovered that a soul was trying to jump over the side of the boat. The souls swimming in the river were reaching up towards the man, and if their appearance frightened him he didn’t show it, but continued trying to climb over. Suddenly a low, agitated growl sounded beside him and Gideon turned to find Charon brushing past him and making his way through the souls. Their chains had disappeared the moment the boat left the dock, and they were able to cower away from the cloaked figure.

The man making his escape seemed to sense the powerful being behind him and turned. His face paled in horror before he swarmed over the side, falling face first. Was he actually going to escape? For the first time in centuries would a soul slip through the Ferryman’s fingers?

Seemed not. Suddenly Charon disappeared, drawing shocked gasps from the souls around, and then before half a second had passed he/she materialized once again at the edge of the boat. A super pale hand shot out and grabbed at the man’s foot, the only body part still in sight. Gideon watched the man thrash and cry out before Charon effortlessly jerked him back onto the boat. The man scrambled to crawl away but Charon jerked him up by the neck and brought him mere inches from his cloaked head. The soul continued his struggles; until Charon drew him even closer still, then suddenly his body went rigid. His eyes grew large, fear swirling in their depts. And his jaw dropped open in a soundless scream. Tears even began to spill down his pale cheeks.

Then all the light left his eyes, leaving behind something dead and dark.

Charon dropped him a second later, where he lay on the boat floor, eyes and mouth still gaping wide. For a moment Gideon thought the man dead, but then noticed that his chest was rising and falling in deep, even movements.

As Charon turned to make his way back beside Gideon, a few helpless whimpers sounded from the souls. It seemed they had lost all hope of being rescued after that little scene. Now they silently awaited their fates, however horrific they were.

Gideon turned once more to the man lying on the deck. What had he seen behind that hood that had horrified him so? What horrendous sight could have caused all hope to flee him so easily?

As another chorus of whimpers and cries sounded Gideon looked up and noticed they were nearing the dock. It seemed a last hidden spark of life had rose in the humans, because they began anew to grasp at him, begging for forgiveness. “It’s not me you should plead with.” Gideon hissed. Truthfully, it mattered little what ‘god’ they prayed to. These were the damned. The most evil of souls and they would receive no second chances.

Then the boat had docked, and the demons warmed the vessel. The humans that had circled him were ripped away, and one man had such a grip on his shirt that it ripped apart. Hissing Gideon pulled the remains of the cloth off and lifted his arm to shield his chest just in time as a demon racked its claws at him. The sharp talons pierced the flesh of his arm instead and Gideon cringed as blood seeped out.

The thing about angel blood, even fallen, it was intoxicating to demons.

As the scent entered the air the demons that had been in the middle of torturing immediately swung their gazes to him. Their evil eyes went first to his arm, growing fiery and hungry, then to gaze over his back. Gideon knew they looked for his wings, but the large white growths had been ripped from his body centuries ago, and all he had now was two very large scars.

“Angel.” The demon before him hissed, its gaze deranged. “I’s grow much stronger with angel meet in my’s belly.” The ugly, twisted thing drew out gleefully. Gideon knew if the demon at the flesh of an angel it would automatically grow considerably stronger, morphing and climbing a few ranks. Gideon wouldn’t give the creature a chance to even fantasize.

Surging forward he grasped the demon’s skull between his hands and twisted. The ugly thing went limp immediately. Gideon grabbed the large knife that it had been carrying and swung around, stabbing another demon in the throat as it tried to sneak up on him. Blood gushed, hot and acid like, and Gideon used his torn shirt to whip it away quickly, glad to see that his previous wound was already nearly closed. Seconds later and there would be no trace of haven even been there. Good. The last thing he needed was to walk around bleeding and draw more attention than he already would.

All the demons rushed him then, and as Gideon fought through them he vaguely saw that a few of the humans were able to run. No doubt they thought he was bravely saving them.
A punch in the face. Coppery tasting blood filled his mouth. He jerked the demon that had dealt the blow forward by its horn and slammed his knee cap into its face. The demon crumpled to his feet in an unconscious pool of blood.

He looked up to scan the cavern ground as the fought continued; finally finding what he had been looking for.

The white haired crone, the child murderer, had not been in the group to run, but was lying on the cavern floor. Her abdomen was open and her guts ripped out. They lay, half out of her body and shriveling up from the burning hot air. The smell of baking blood and organs filled the air, and Gideon was glad that he had a strong stomach, or else he would be bent over right then heaving up everything in his gut.

The demon that had been eating at her had left before he could finish the job to come for him, and now the woman lay in agony, blood seeping from her body and maggots already crawling through her body to dine on what the demon had left behind.

Wonderful. As soon as Gideon was through with the demons he’d reopen his wound and spill his blood all over the woman. Maybe he’d even linger in the shadows to watch the swarm of demons that came for her.

Only one demon left. This one reached just to his shoulder blades and was covered in deep green, diamond like scales. While it wasn’t a high ranked demon by far, yet it still wasn’t as weak as the grotesque little whelps that he had already finished off, so it proved to be a bit more challenging.

It was fast, and dogged one of Gideon’s blows, swinging around to his back to rake its claws down his back.

Dammit. Another wound.

Grunting Gideon fell to a crouch, swinging his leg out in a twirling motion and connecting with the demon. It went down and Gideon didn’t hesitate to lift his booted foot and slam it down into the demons face. There was a loud crunch, followed by a wet slick as Gideon scoffed his booted soles down on the boats deck to rid them of the blood and bone.

Finally he was all that was left on the boat, aside from Charon, and he stumbled back to the rest against its edge. He was painted in blood. It covered him from the tip of his head to the toe of his boots. Disgusted, he used his shirt to clean as much of it from his body as possible, hating the sticky wetness. What he wouldn’t give to have a bottle of Purel at that moment.

Pushing off of the boats side he looked up to find Charon staring at him. Or so he assumed the demon was, seeing as it was impossible to see his/her face. If the demon had any problem with its own being killed Charon didn’t show it. The cloaked figure watched him a moment longer before glancing down at the bodies covering the boat, then turned to him again and Gideon couldn’t help but feel that the Ferryman was looking at him with an expression that said ‘Uh, you gonna clean that up?’

“What are you a neat freak or something?” Gideon muttered before grabbing onto one of the long horns of the demon and the tail of another. He dragged them to the end of the boat and tossed them over the side onto the cavern floor, and then began to do the same with the rest. When finally the boat was cleared Gideon whipped his bloody hands on his pants legs and turned to look down at the blood soaked deck. “Don’t suppose you have a mop?”

Charon stared at him in silence.

“No. Didn’t think so.” Clearing his throat he scratched at the back of his neck. “Well, guess I’ll be on my way then.” Turning he made to leave but suddenly found himself haltered by an invisible force field. He stumbled back in confusion before realization struck. Digging into his pocket he felt around until his fingers touched something hard and round. Pulling it out he flipped the gold coin to Charon, who shot his pale hand out and caught it. “Must pay the Ferryman his due, huh? Till next time then.” With a last glance he left the boat and stepped onto the banks of the other side of the river Styxx.

For a moment he simply stood, taking in everything around him. Like the other side, lava filled the cavern, but there were various entrances that lead deeper into the bowls of the Underworld, where even more terrors waited. Before his soul returned to his body he would travel most of them, facing being so horrific that Hades himself feared. But first…Lifting his blade he slashed his palm open, and then made his way to the child murderer. She was still alive, her body shaking uncontrollably from shock.

She was quite a sight. Guts pulled out, blood soaking the ground around her and flies and maggots feasting off her open wound. Her eyes were pulled wide, tears streaming down the sides of her face, a face that had drained of all color and was as pale as her white hair. That paleness stood out even more against the pool of blood under her. It soaked the back of her head, making some of her hair and deep crimson and a few drops were also dotted on her face. Her lips were chapped and tinged blue and trembled. She swallowed with some difficulty, and then those lips began to move and she spoke in an almost inaudible voice.

“What was that?” Gideon crouched beside her, tilting his head in her direction. “I’m sorry you’re going to have to speak up.”

“He…lp…me.”

“Help you? Is that what you said?” She was unable to move her head, so blinked rapidly in reply. Gideon stared downward at her a moment before nodding. “Of course.”

He stood then, and a weak whimper slipped past her lips.

“Shh.” Gideon reassured her softly. “I’m not going anywhere; I wouldn’t want to miss the demons as they come to eat you alive.” Her eyes drew even wider, her shaking increasing. “Don’t worry, only the low ranked demons will most likely come. The higher breeds are usually in the deeper parts of Hell. So all that will happen is your intestines will be sucked down a demons belly like spaghetti. They’ll probably eat at your flesh, going for the most tender parts;’ the underside of your arms, the insides of your thighs. Oh, and demons have a particular fondness for eyeballs, but I’m sure they won’t pluck them till last. They’ll want you to be able to see them eating you alive, after all.”

Her cries had grown louder, though still weak. She gulped again. “But..you…an..gel.”

Gideon narrowed his eyes in hatred. “Even an angel would wish for the torture of such an evil soul. Besides,” He shrugged. “I’m fallen.” With that he unclenched his fist and allowed his blood to spill upon her.