His second chance at a happy life

Those Angelic F*cktards

The angels had become a recurring problem I was cursed to face so often it felt like they were invading my lands without a thought for the underworld’s residents. Yet, whenever we crossed paths, they claimed they were only there to trade. Not long after we became an empire, angels started appearing in areas outside our borders. Soon, people went missing or began acting strangely. For the last four thousand three hundred years, they’ve managed to hide their tracks. What they didn’t know was that more territories were eager to come under the Underworld’s empire, since my soldiers—trained under my watchful eye and unmatched in skill—meant those who joined were far less likely to be targeted again. New members would receive the same training and opportunities as everyone else, with my soldiers guarding their land until they could defend themselves.

Since the early 1980s, those arrogant bastards have gotten cocky. They’ve been in the lead so long they’re getting sloppy. I was handed the opportunity of a lifetime. Only a select few and I knew about my new friend. We came across him when I helped Silvia and her daughter, Grendel, capture the angel assigned to watch them. Thanks to him, we could listen in on the angels’ broadcasts as they talked to each other. Unfortunately for both me and the low-level angel, he wasn’t as useful as I’d hoped—he didn’t have access to the big meetings—but over the years, I learned enough to make it worth keeping him around.

The day I learned of his low status was bad for us both. Once we realized he was barely worth keeping alive, I made my displeasure known on his skin, lashing his back like the marks worn by my people. I’d strike him until bone showed, then let the slow healing begin—only to whip him again before the wounds closed. His one value was sensing nearby angels. If an unwelcome one entered my palace grounds, he was to alert my head of security. In return, I’d grant him a few days to heal. When he tapped into angel broadcasts during their visits, he relayed everything to me alone and earned longer rests. N’eteri had pinpointed the part of the angel’s brain to neutralize, ensuring he’d never be detected. As a bonus, he could only speak in a whisper.

In the early 2000s, I first heard about seers being used as experiments by the angels. During one meeting, they requested a piece of land within my walls. I stalled them long enough for my mole to gather the intel I needed, then denied them access. When I discovered that a descendant of Scarlet was one of their test subjects, my anger doubled. She had been forced to take their drug, intended to suppress her ability to see spirits roaming the earth. Instead, it amplified her powers, making her see and hear even more of the dead, as well as communicate with beings from the other two worlds. The angels had slipped the drug into her drink at a party, after which she vanished for weeks. When they realized their plan had failed, they dumped her back on earth, hoping insanity would eat away at her mind like it had with others over the years. She must have thought she was losing her grip, talking to people who weren’t there. To make matters worse, the drug was addictive. Back on earth, she did anything she could to scratch the itch for more power, never finding anything to truly satisfy it.

"How can you be so sure that’s even a true tale?" my good friend Grendel asked as he settled into the chair I’d gotten just for him. Surprisingly comfortable for something made in 1837, it had a Victorian plush-cushioned arch at the back, and the sturdy oak frame could easily support our heavy wings while we relaxed. I had just finished telling him about the experiments, and I followed his lead, leaning back to stare up at the ceiling.

Silvia Markeson Mill-West, the cult leader’s daughter and a red-haired descendant of the Scarlets, asked me to come to Earth. She wanted me to meet her there along with a few other seers. With fate silent all this time, I decided to take this step, hoping to learn more about the latest reports from the edge of the underworld and to find a way to protect the last of the seers. I’ve already failed too many.

They had no reason to lie to me. If Silvia hadn’t reached out, I would never have known about the Sanchez family, who might just be the missing piece. I need to figure out how the angels keep creating these ripples. One of their sons was apparently kidnapped, and months later he was found unconscious. No one could figure out what was wrong with him. The parents didn’t have any strong powers, but the children clearly carried angelic energy—I could see it in their aura when I met them briefly. The unconscious twin’s sibling was the one who spoke to him through the death veil. Somehow, it seems each child in this family might have been given the drug, boosting the angelic power inside them. Like Camille, they all have stronger abilities than the generation before, but without the side effects.

I began to mumble as my thoughts wandered, jotting things down in hopes of making a connection.

"They’d asked for my help to return his soul to his body, but another spirit was already there. I couldn’t remove the lech without harming the child’s brain, so the best I could manage was to put it under a sleeping spell." Grendel took a swig from his flask and let my mind drift before he asked,

"What about the girl? Do we know where she is right now?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Do we know anything about Camille? Where is she? What’s she doing? Is she even still alive?" I shook my head, feeling like fate wasn’t giving me any answers lately. I sighed, thinking how fate could really be a pain sometimes. Then Grendel cried out in pain, and I glanced over just in time to see him sink into his seat and vanish. A sharp cry echoed through the room, and where he’d been sitting was a thin line, like a slit in the fabric of reality. I sat there, staring at the chair for an hour, waiting for him to return.

"Figlio di puttana," he cursed in Italian as he regained his composure. "Cosa è appena successo? What just happened?" I blinked, stunned by what I had just witnessed with my own eyes.

"You were gone for an hour," I said. "Are you okay? That didn’t sound pleasant." I handed him the flask he’d dropped when he left, and he downed the last of his potent homemade brew he called alcohol.

"I couldn't have been on Earth for more than ten minutes." He frowned at me.

"What did you see?"

"You're not going to like it, my friend."

"She was a drug user with no real significance to the world. I don't see what the fuss is about. You can't seriously be blaming the angels for one person's downfall. Her own dark thoughts must have taken over." The table cracked in two as I slammed my open fist onto the wooden surface, sending everyone scrambling to avoid the flying splinters. I heard a quick squeal, cut short just as fast. I had called this meeting to confront the angels and a few leaders who had been trying to undermine me by siding with them, hoping to dig deeper into the story I’d been told. As expected, they denied any involvement in the strange encounters with seers.

“YOU HAVE NO VOICE HERE!” I glared at the Machiavellian. “UNTIL I KNOW WHY YOUR MINIONS HAVE BEEN STALKING MY PEOPLE, YOU ARE NO LONGER ALLOWED ACCESS TO MY KINGDOM!” The almighty angel leader stood motionless, but the fear in his eyes gave him away. I could smell it in the air. They were all afraid. My voice wasn’t loud, yet it echoed off the walls as if I had shouted. I scanned the room, glaring at the nobles who thought they could one-up me, their fear making my skin itch to tear someone apart. Whispers reached me about angels slipping through towns, offering promises of impossible power—and many had accepted. The nobles of the eastern and western territories had been selling lesser creatures to the angels, thinking I wouldn’t find out. But my hand-picked leaders saw everything. I wasn’t about to let them destroy what I’d built just to feed their greed for power. It was ridiculous, especially coming from those hypothetical ass hats.

“My lord, there’s no need to act in this matter,” one of the vampire leaders cooed. She was tall, draped in red, trembling slightly yet still brave enough to speak. I glanced at her, and she immediately shrank back behind her leader.

“Someone get rid of this table!” Alac’vi barked. As head of the eastern territory, he was the first to notice the angel’s new ripple. He sighed, glaring at the radiant beings. As the vampire ruler, he had conjured special glasses to shield himself from anything overly bright, but even those barely dulled the sting of the angels’ blazing aura. A man of few words, Alac’vi had earned his place, and if I needed more than Grandel, I knew I could count on him. The twelve angels had lingered for hours, denying and manipulating those around us. My patience was fraying, my head pounding from their presence. They’d kept us waiting nearly a full day for a response, but I knew one thing for certain—they were on my land.

While they were taking their time, Grendel managed to send one of my fastest demons to track down the girl he’d helped escape. Her mother had overdosed, and the eight-year-old daughter had witnessed it. Grendel was sent to Earth as well as an angel disguised as a Chicago police officer, guiding the little one into a car. I’m not sure how he convinced her to run, but the moment she had the chance, she bolted. To our surprise, she vanished completely from everyone’s radar.

"I didn't get a chance to meet up with her. By the time I got the angel unconscious, she was gone," he reported when he got back. We met in the dungeon when I returned after having finished handing out orders to the guards while he informed the demon where she was last. I had a few words for our friend. I had to let go of the anger to handle the interrogation properly, so I dealt with the guards first before we went down there.

During Grendel's report, I learned the angels had already been in the underworld when I asked them to come to the capital, yet they claimed they were too busy elsewhere to receive my letter. When they finally arrived, they complained about the long journey and insisted on resting before the meeting could start. Annoyed, I agreed, hoping my low-level radio could pick up a signal. I hurled the table at the wall near them, their blinding light flooding the room, and it took all my restraint not to lash out at those insincere, indifferent beings as they looked down their noses at us.

“I’m leaving now,” I growled quietly. My horns emerged, and my claws extended to their full length. I was done trying to be nice. “Get out of my way.” I headed for the exit, where the angels stood blocking my path. When they didn’t move, I grabbed the two closest and tossed them across the room, the hallway finally opening before me. I spotted some of the lower demons bringing in the new table; they saw me instantly and stepped aside. Grendel’s laughter echoed, and I shook my head at the madman.

“I told you it was too bright in here,” he said, trailing behind me. From the few words the impostor kept repeating, I knew I wouldn’t get anything useful out of them, and I wasn’t going to waste any more time. If my helper hadn’t gotten enough by now, the plans they’re working on must be important enough to use a private channel in a place only the angels can access.

“Shut up.” I hissed, stopping at the exit to look over in the room. “You leave.” I glared at the angels that were left standing. I moved to the angel, who was bold enough to speak. I hear a small squeak when I am striding towards him. The air around us heavy and so silent you could hear a pin drop. The only sound that cut the silence was my boots on the marble floor as I marched over to the glowing blond hair, milk skin, flushed-cheeked white winged piece of sh*t.

“I said leave—you’re filth and have no heart. I couldn’t care less if you think you’re an angel. You’re nothing more than gum stuck to my boots. So, get out of my face and out of this realm. I’m sure you’ve got plenty to do back in your own home. From this moment on, you’re barred from setting foot in the underworld without my clearance, and any dealings you had here end now. You’re not welcome in the kingdom or its neighbors. No one wants you here. This isn’t your home, and my people are not your slaves. Every human matter, and every human life and death carries meaning. If you choose to harm others, harm will come for you. Didn’t your father teach you it’s wrong to hurt his creation? This is your warning—next time, I won’t use words.” I stepped closer to the two-faced creature. His eyes went pale, and I saw the glow of my red pupils reflected in them, burning with anger. I heard him draw in a sharp breath, saw sweat bead at his hairline, and felt the fear saturating the room. I walked out, fueled by a mix of rage and satisfaction.

“Clean up, get a new table, and make sure they’re gone before I am, or you’ll need bags to carry them out,” I barked to the guards outside the meeting room. Within seconds, they were gone. I headed toward my quarters, not slowing down or bothering to listen to Grendel.

“Can’t you settle down?” Grendel asked, sinking into his chair with a groan. I glanced at the latest report from Earth, but he still wouldn’t stop talking, making my headache worse. I sighed.

“Every time those glowing-ass, chicken sh*ts show up, I get a blazing headache. They know they’ve been caught, yet they still lie to me. I should be out there looking for the little girl. I can’t believe we left her alone. What do you get for helping fate? Anything good? No. Right now, the best I’ve got is a half-a*sed portal maker.” I rubbed my temples as Grendel’s low rumble of laughter filled the room.

“Si. That’s why I drink! Mi amigo, there was only so much we could do. I just got this ability, and I’ll master it in no time. We’ll find the little girl. Give your demons some credit—they’re trying.” I shook my head as he pulled out his flask and raised it toward me, offering a drink. I’d brought it back for him on my last trip as thanks for helping with a surveillance recon, and he’d filled it with a homemade mixer. Using plants he grew in his backyard, he’d created the strongest thing I’ve ever tasted.

The report on my desk detailed how many seers have been purging their world of ghosts, the angels’ main energy source for experiments. They collect wandering souls, and the most dangerous or purely righteous ones hold enough power to supercharge whoever absorbs their magic to an incredible degree. This process was thought lost—until whispers spread that ancient scrolls had surfaced, revealing a ritual to boost one’s powers. It wasn’t just a spell, but a mix of precise words and exact ingredients from various plants and waters across all three realms. Without the souls, though, the machine used to combine the ingredients would be useless, as the souls provided the energy to transform them into a single potion. The report made one thing clear to me: the angels are absolutely behind the hunting of the seers.