Gabriel's Armada

Chapter 20: Doubts and Eavesdropping.

Gabriella looked at her broadsword as she cleaned it with a rag, checking her reflection on its gleaming blade. She was shocked to her bloodshot eyes which had dark circles beneath them, and the lines that were around her lips and on her forehead.

“Not again,” She groaned. She looked the same way she'd looked while still on earth; someone who was suffering. And to think she'd thought she would have enjoyed her time in the Afterlife, she'd been stupid enough to think she'd make heaven.

“And they don't even want me there,” Gabriella snapped at no one in particular, “they'd rather have some imposter!”

How had she been so wrong about many of her beliefs? She scolded herself.

With a sigh, she set down her sword and stood, acknowledging that no matter how betrayed she felt, guilt still weighed heavily on her soul for killing that band of angels, especially the kind young one who had spoken gently to her.

“There's nothing you can do, Gabriella” She consoled herself, “it was you or them, you made the right choice.”

She scowled when she realized she sounded a lot like Beelzebub. Although he had been merciful enough not to throw her into a torture chamber, Gabriella still resented Beelzebub for making her train with malevolent demons like Helios who enjoyed beating her and humiliating her in front of everyone, and making her kill.

Walking out of the bare little cubicle she lived in, Gabriella admitted to herself that the devil she knew was better than the angel she didn't, literally. She didn't like it, but she was Gabriella Gutierrez, mistress of enduring hard times.

Not caring where her feet carried her to, but knowing she needed to get away from her depressing thoughts, Gabriella marched away from her room, inspecting Beelzebub's palace.

It was a blatantly huge and vast edifice, with about millions of rooms which served as dining halls, training arenas and most of all, torture chambers. The palace was poorly illuminated except for Beelzebub's throne room, so he could admire his fair reflection in his golden walls.

Incessant cries could be heard from the numerous torture chambers, where poor souls were made to suffer within an inch of their lives.

Although the cries were inaudible, Gabriella could imagine the souls crying and begging for their lives.

As she passed, she saw a few demons, ugly hunched pseudo-human creatures with large ears and crooked teeth. They sneered at her, jeering her and she ignored them.

Gabriella was about to a take a step further when voices came floating from the throne room. She was able to tell the voices belonged to Beelzebub and the hooded figure.

“You said you would get the angels to stage an attack so we could capture Gabriel!” This came from an obviously annoyed Beelzebub. As usual, his pleasant voice hitching with unbridled rage.

“Well, I've sent a lot of demons to the exact location where we massacred the lot of them yet, nothing.” The figure replied, resigned yet confident. His bass voice carried a hint of amusement.

“Why?”

“With the angels, I think two things are in play; either they're bidding their time, trying to make us impatient,”

“Or?” Beelzebub was impatient.

“Or Gabriel isn't ready yet, and they're still training him.”

“I don't care what's going on, I want results and I want them now. The earlier we end this war and I ascend my rightful throne as the ruler of the Afterlife, the better for all of you.” Beelzebub declared haughtily.

Gabriella shook her head in disdain, Beelzebub's conceit was too much to bear.

She was about to move on, when Beelzebub continued, “What about Gabriella?”

An interminable pause ensued and Gabriella felt her hackles rise. What did Beelzebub mean by that? She plastered herself against the wall and listened more intently than before.

“What about Gabriella?” The figure echoed when he finally responded.

Beelzebub sighed, “You know what I mean. Do you think she's strong enough to lead our Mephistophelian crusade?”

“Why do you have your doubts now?”

Gabriella was shocked and somewhat amused at how the figure never seemed to fear the mighty Beelzebub?

Who's this guy? She wondered absently as she anticipated Beelzebub's answer.

“When you came back from your s*******r, she had a haunted look on her face. Some time later, she approached me and began to expectorate some earthly nonsense about dialoguing with the heavens and stopping this war. She even admitted she felt guilty for killing angels. That is not the way of a warrior.” Beelzebub disclosed, his voice ringing with disapproval.

Gabriella called herself a fool a thousand times over for being unthinking enough to advise to the devil to take up dialogue.

The figure chuckled, “That is to be expected, Your Highness. You know she's still beginner. No matter what the prophecy calls her, it's only natural she feel . . . uncomfortable after committing her first kill.”

The figure was interrupted by a disbelieving harrumph from Beelzebub, but continued, “Soon, she'll get used to the battle lust, and then you'll see her for the killing machine she is.”

The figure's cherry assurance sickened Gabriella and she gagged, disgusted as being referred to nothing more than a cold-hearted killer.

“For your sake and hers, I hope you're right.” Beelzebub threatened.

The figure kept mute and Beelzebub kept on, “Yes, I want you and Gabriella to do something that will rattle the angels cages. Something that'll remind them of whom they're dealing with.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“And I want it done now!”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Don't return to the palace until it is done.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Gabriella knew the conversation had come to an end, so she scurried away to prevent discovery.

* * *

The Afterlife, 7000 km away from Teres.

Gabriella sighed in resignation and used her hand to shield her eyes from the scorching sun. She reached for the bulging sac bag behind her and brought out a blade, adding it to the pile already on the ground.

The figure stood with his back to her, his own bag of swords and armor parts beside him. They had been spreading them all over the ground for what seemed to be an hour, and there were still up to five more bags to go.

Gabriella was so focused on her task that the figure's voice shook her when he asked, “So how did it feel?”

Gabriella was so discombulated by his words that she straightened herself and stared at his back, hoping to get some answers from his body language. When none came, as he was standing as rigid as a pole, she was forced to ask, “How does what feel?”

“Eavesdropping on my conversation with His Highness,” the figure replied amused.

Gabriella felt herself blush at being found out, and wished the ground would open up and swallow her.

“I'm sorry,” Gabriella murmured, abashed.

“Nonsense,” the figure dismissed jovially, “It's best to keep one's ears to the ground, that way, nothing and no one will take you unawares, okay?”

Gabriella's mouth hung open. She had been expecting a scolding, and here the figure was, lauding her eavesdropping skills.

“Just know this Gabriella,” the figure added somberly, “don't try to do anything funny. I'll know, nothing gets past me.”

Before Gabriella could reply, he added, “Get to work, we still have a long way to go.”