“Who are you?” Jaw tightened in determination, she rushed William standing in the center of the room.
“What? No kiss? No teary reunion?” Shrugging his shoulders, he stepped around her. “Straight to business then. Now, what part to play? Elizabeth, the hard-nosed detective? Or Buffy, the treacherous harlot? One fights crime with a gun. The other her cunt. Decisions. Decisions.” William circled her, unabashed in his nudity.
She shivered, his proximity and voice hypnotic. Tapping into her inner strength and ever determined of not backing down or giving in, she lifted her chin in defiance. This was it. The razor’s edge between the gnawing need to know and the crushing weight of the knowledge. She welcomed the burden.
Taking her cue, William stepped back. “What a shame. Elizabeth it is.” He was now partially clothed. The leather pants that had materialized thankfully lessened the temptation.
“Fine, you know who I am. Who. Are. You?” Tone clipped and brusque, Elizabeth held his gaze, unrelenting.
“How ‘bout a little tell before show, shall we?” Resembling a skilled orator, William started walking the room, never breaking eye contact.
“Marking the beginning of time was our Maker. Supreme Being who created all that has ever been, is, and will be. He created legions of powerful beings of heaven and hell, and all that walked or crawled in between. Yet this wasn’t enough. Our Maker wanted more. One made in His own image. And after eons, the once powerful were forced into the shadows. Forgotten. All to make way for our Maker’s ultimate creation. Man.
“As to our Maker’s design, man devoutly worshipped Him. Yet man was fragile. Ephemeral. It was in man’s frailty his worship wavered and waned. It was from man’s frailty our Maker chose to create another race, a stronger race. To carry on where man could not.
“Commanded by our Maker, we descended from the heavens and lay with the daughters of men. Strong and fierce, our sons thrived and ruled all. Over man and beast. When our Maker saw this, instead of rejoicing, he saw only transgression. He feared too much power and control was lost. In the end we were punished for this sin. Our sons were killed and we cast out and bound to this Earth. Imprisoned for all eternity.” William stopped in front of her within arm’s reach.
She felt a heaviness settle in her chest. “When you say ‘we’…”
William changed. Sweeping black wings arched high over his head and spanned beyond the breadth of his shoulders, the feathered ends touching the ground at his feet. Fangs descended and claws elongated, razor sharp. A spiral circular pattern appeared branded in the center of his chest.
“Brethren of the Fallen Angels.”
A mixture of fear and awe, it was hard to look away or speak. William moved closer, and almost tenderly, tried running the back of his clawed hand across her cheek. Elizabeth evaded his touch, her hands up in defense.
“All in due time, Elizabeth.” With a roll of his shoulders, his human façade slid back into place. Casually moving across the room toward a table, William turned to her holding up a carafe. “Drink?”
Still stunned, she responded with a slight head shake. While he poured, she took this opportunity to look around the room: a perfect circle of stone, no doors or windows. The walls of wrought iron gates held back blazing fires. Yet all she felt was cold. Bone deep.
“Know you're burning with questions. Go ahead. I’ll let you have your fun. For now.” Sprawled out in a chair, William sipped his drink.
Not knowing where to start, Elizabeth asked what first came to mind, “So William F. Allen? Either that’s ingenious or incredibly narcissistic, not sure which one.”
“A little bit of both. Just couldn’t help myself. Man never sees what’s right in front of him. In spite of how intelligent he claims to be. Even you.” With a smirk, William raised his glass in toast. The bright green spirit swirled around the sides.
Spurred by his outright arrogance, her confidence returned in full force. She went straight for the throat. “Did you kill those women?”
“No fucking around, eh?” William stood and refilled his drink. “So, do you want the long or short answer?” Downing the spirit in one long swallow, he left the glass and moved closer to her.
“The one that answers my question.” Elizabeth folded her arms across her chest, eyes narrowing.
“Fine. No. I didn’t kill those women.” Heaving a sigh, William slid back into his seat and inspected his fingernails. Ever the picture of boredom.
“So you’re saying you weren’t involved in these deaths?” Stepping closer, she felt her anger rising. No matter of how much she hated his games, if it meant getting what she wanted, fine. She’d play.
“Never said I wasn’t involved. What I said was that I didn’t kill them. Questions, Elizabeth. If you want the answers you seek, ask the right ones.” Tone belittling, William shifted and crossed his legs at the ankles.
Chest tightening and barely suppressing her anger, she rephrased her question, “What was your part in these deaths?”
“No more and no less than the others.” William smirked, clearly enjoying this cat-and-mouse.
Unable to hold back a moment longer, Elizabeth clenched her fists by her sides and unleashed. “All you do is talk in circles and riddles. Can’t you give me a straight answer? Stop playing. This isn’t a fucking game!”
“Ooh, I love it. Such strength. Such fire. Gets me hard, it does.” Vulgarly cupping himself, William lasciviously licked his lips.
Elizabeth closed her eyes, welcoming the anger. The anger kept her strong against his allure. She wouldn’t feed into him. She couldn’t. She needed to gain the upper hand. That was the only way she’d find out the truth. A slow breath in and out, she ignored the nagging tightening in her chest and opened her eyes.
“How did these women get here? You said it yourself, you’re stuck. Can’t leave.” Elizabeth watched him smile. He was either impressed or still toying with her. She couldn’t tell which one.
“Every woman was here of their own volition. Their own free will.” Fingers interlacing, he cradled the back of his head and leaned back.
“None of these women chose to die. Quinn, didn’t choose to die.” Elizabeth quaked with pure anger, her already unsteady resolve faltering. Again.
“One way or another, yes, yes they did. Each and every last one. It was always their choice. Same for Quinn. Same for you.” Tone harsh, William stood and looked down at her, eyes blazing.
“I’m leading the way.” Elizabeth shook her head, trying to chase away her own words coming back to haunt her. Resigned, she backed away. She felt so opened and exposed. Yet trapped and buried at the same time.
She felt so…fallen.
“But why did they have to die?” She hated how pitiful she sounded. How so very small she felt.
“Simple, they weren’t strong enough. Their weakness was their undoing. Nothing more. Nothing less.” William sniffed and settled back in his seat.
Feeling cornered and altering now between anger and despair, Elizabeth wanted nothing more than to scream and lash out. Cause him pain. The same pain smothering her. The same pain undoubtedly these women had felt. But she knew deep down, there was still more. So much more. The only way to find out was to keep him talking. Let him be his own undoing.
“Strong enough for what exactly?” Her chest tightened, squeezing to the point of pain. It was getting harder to breath. Even harder to hold on.
“When we were cast out, this”—William swept his arm out, gesturing all around them—“became our eternity. Our prison of sin and stone. Yet in everything, if one looks long and hard enough, there’s always an escape. A cosmic loophole, if you will.”
William stood and sidled closer. So close. Elizabeth felt his warm breath on her face, his chest brush against hers. All her anger, all her pain instantly lifted and melted away. Desperately she wanted to give in to him. Surrender.
“A prophesy foretold of a daughter of man. One strong enough to survive the trials. One strong enough to break the curse of barrenness and bestow the privilege to bear our sons to the daughters of man. Once more, our sons will thrive and reign. But they will not stop with man and beast. No. This time they will wage war against the heavens and our jailer. And with their victory, we will finally be freed.”
Crushed under the weight of his words, the heaviness enveloped her. Her lungs burned. It hurt to speak. “So tell me. How many more have to die before you find her?”
“No other, Elizabeth. Our wait is finally over.” Tenderly, almost reverently, William placed a hand on her stomach.