Color of Angels' Souls (37 page)

When Allison had seen the red Angel tormenting Jeremy's little sister and greedily feeding off the little girl's suffering, she had been appalled. But he had only been a Cherub, after all, even if his twisted mind had transformed him into a monster.

And he was nothing compared with the ten-foot-tall, horribly obese red Angel who was now glowering down at her.

“Ave, Caligula,” Flint said with a bow.

According to the ancient texts, the emperor Caligula had been bloodthirsty, hideous (he was so hairy that it was forbidden to pronounce the word “goat” in his presence), and completely insane (he had been assassinated the day before he was going to make his favorite horse a Roman consul). In the afterlife, he was just as ugly and psychopathic, driven by ferocious, malevolent, unwholesome, and recklessly dangerous penchants. Allison could feel it as she bent low in front of him.

Completely naked.

The monstrous fiend had ordered her to undress before he would receive them. He was probably afraid that someone would run him through, after having been assassinated by his Praetorian Guard. They had stabbed him no less than twenty times, so yes, Allison could understand that he might be a bit wary of traitors and knives.

Caligula wasn't wearing anything either, but he was so incredibly humongous, and his belly so enormous, that it hung down over his private parts, to Allison's great relief. He was slumped over on an enormous throne of intricately sculpted red Mist that sat in the middle of a cavernous, uninhabited mansion not far from the Arlington National Cemetery just outside Washington, D.C. He enjoyed the company of the dead, he was fond of saying. His power and charisma were so intense that whenever any living people tried to inhabit the house, they felt so awful that they packed up and left almost immediately. Over the years, Caligula had transformed the place into a twisted sort of Roman temple devoted to his favorite divinity: himself. Because he was still convinced he was a god, just as he had been on Earth.

“What do you want, Decarus?” he growled. “Did you bring me this blue Cherub here for breakfast?”

He ran his thick, red tongue—which was much longer than a normal tongue and strangely pointed—over his lips, which had curled into a sulky pout.

“Uh, no, Your Excellence, this young girl is on a mission of vengeance. She wishes to become red, and then to receive your assistance.”

Caligula straightened up, with some difficulty.

“Vengeance?” he asked in a booming voice. “What sort of vengeance? Against an Angel or a living person?”

“A living person, Your Highness.”

“Hum! That's no fun. They're so easy to kill. Torturing an Angel is so much more amusing!”

“Of course,” Flint acquiesced without flinching.

“What about me?” Caligula bellowed. “What do I get in exchange?”

Flint and Allison quickly exchanged a glance. Allison wasn't so sure now that she wanted to carry on with her mission. Then she felt a wave of warmth emanating from Flint, almost the same as when he touched her, and she suddenly felt more determined than ever to see the ordeal through to the end.

“Name your price,” she said in a clear voice.

The fiend stared hard at her. Then started laughing loudly.

“Tell me, little one, are you honest, faithful, and loyal? Do you have all these qualities? Do you despise hypocrisy, deceit, pain, suffering, and hatred? Do you like love, happiness, and cute little puppy dogs?”

The stupidity of his question, together with his tone of voice, made it clear that he was having fun at her expense. Allison didn't answer.

Caligula wasn't offended. On the contrary, when he saw Allison glaring back at him, he only laughed harder.

“Whew! It's been years since I've laughed so hard!”

Instantly, Caligula became deadly serious, showing once again his true nature.

“Here is my price then: I'll make you forget all those high-minded sentiments, and I will corrupt you beyond all hope of redemption.”

Flint shot up to his feet.

“That's not what I—” he began to protest.

But Caligula interrupted him with an angry gesture and turned back to Allison.

“I'm going to give you much more than what Decarus has requested. You will become one of us, little Blue. And you're going to love it.”

Before a horrified Allison could object, the emperor struck her with all his might.

Not with his fists.

With his mind.

The Angels, in particular the most ancient among them, had become experts in mind control. Like Flint, Caligula could transfer his power in order to feed Allison.

And that's exactly what he did.

A wave of unbelievable force swept over Allison, who began writhing on the ground from both the pain and the pleasure. Psychotic pleasures. The pleasure of disemboweling a man and feeling his hot blood run through your fingers, and then greedily licking it up like a wild animal. The pleasure of limitless power, bound by no laws, no rules. The pleasure of the strongest, the pleasure of torturing and tormenting and knowing that no one can stop you. Omnipotence.

Allison fainted.

What happened next was hard to remember. Trembling with fever, drowning in wave after wave of suffering, she had the vague sensation that time was passing. Flint, calm and composed, never left her side. He wiped the sweat from her brow and the bile from her lips when the horror she was ingurgitating became more than she could physically withstand. He relieved her aching arms and legs, which had grown strangely numb. But each time she broke down and cried, begging him to get her out of there, he brought her back to Caligula.

And the monster continued to feed her.

The torture went on for days and nights on end. Unending affliction, mixed with the most poignant pleasures. Then, finally, after yet another powerful wave had struck her, Allison didn't faint. The clouds cleared from her mind. Under the steely gaze of the mad emperor, she didn't break, and slowly rose to her feet.

Caligula intensified his efforts, pelting her with wave after wave of power, but Allison took each burst as it came. Flint stood by, arms crossed, keeping careful watch over the girl. He had almost thought that he would lose her forever, which pained him much more than he cared to admit. That her mind would break under the pressure and she would go mad. But the kid had held on.

Now she stood before them. Tall. Proud. Disdainful.

Red.

Magnificent. Flint's mouth went dry just looking at her.

She looked Caligula right in the eyes and stretched languorously, like a waking goddess, perfectly aware that her body was superb. And that it was now her best weapon. Shy little Allison was a thing of the past. The stupid virgin as well. She tilted her head to one side, gave him a maddeningly provocative look, and yelled out: “Go ahead big fella, give me everything you've got!”

Caligula scowled angrily at her and growled under his breath, while Flint held his breath. Allison had no idea what she was doing; the emperor could crush her like a fly with a flick of his wrist.

But the hideous fiend hadn't created such a pretty little Red in order to annihilate her. No, he had seen the way Flint kept looking at the girl.

Flint who had never shown any particular interest in women before.

Flint who only lived for
his
cause.

Caligula realized that he would now be able torment the old Angel to his heart's content. In fact, he had already begun by giving much too much power to Allison, and the little Red was now more powerful even than Flint, and would remain so until she had used up her reserves. Of course, he neglected to tell either of them this fact. It would be his private little joke. Flint was in for a big surprise. It would be so much fun to watch him try to manipulate the girl … and fail. The little Red was going to make him suffer all right, and oh how Caligula would revel in his pain. Oh yes!

And so he contented himself with sending her one last wave, just strong enough to bring Allison down a notch (although he was surprised to see how much energy it took him to manage it), but not enough to break her spirit.

Not yet. Not this time.

To his great relief, Flint realized that Allison had held on. She was suffering from the blow, but still standing.

“Not bad,” conceded Caligula as he halted his bombardment. “Decarus, the first phase is now over. Bring the girl back for phase two.” He didn't tell him that there actually was no need for a phase two; he just wanted to see them again to evaluate how much damage he'd done. “My dinner awaits me.”

Allison was about to make another snide comment but Flint had already grabbed her by the arm and was pulling her out of the room. As they left the house, they passed six Reds who were ushering in a blue Cherub. The young man was very excited and talking loudly: “No way! A
Roman emperor
? Are you serious? That's so insane! I was out clubbing, I got in my car and then “boom!”, and here I am … Now it's like I died or something, and I'm going to meet a real Roman emperor. What a cool dream!”

Allison could imagine what was in store for him. And despite everything that Caligula had put her through, she couldn't help but shiver when she heard the little Blue start to scream. But just like in the arena, his voice quickly began to fade away as Caligula ate his dinner.

“That big tub of lard's a Chimera, isn't he?” she asked Flint.

“Yes. He hunted down and ate all the people responsible for his death, and now the only way he can stay alive is by eating other Angels.”

“And you haven't locked him up?”

Flint looked despondent.

“We tried,” he sighed. “He's much too powerful.”

Ah. So there were double standards here, just like on Earth. They locked up and starved to death the Angels they could catch, while others could go about their business with complete impunity.

“Does that mean I'll have to eat other Angels now?”

Flint looked at her, horrified by the indifference in her voice.

“No, of course not! Caligula transferred some of his power to you, that's all. You can eat Mist just as usual.”

“Really? It's just as well. It would have been annoying to look like I was nine months' pregnant every time I ate.”

Flint swallowed hard, disturbed by how cold and hard her voice was.

When they were finally outside the huge mansion, Allison turned toward Flint without warning and slammed him against a stone wall so hard that the old Angel thought he might pass right through it. He was surprised to realize that he was actually a bit frightened. It had been years since he had felt so troubled. After spending so much time feeding off the emotions of others, the oldest Angels eventually began disregarding their own feelings. But these new sensations were proving to be quite delicious. Flint was curious to see what she would do to him.

“So, do you still want me, you big blue Angel?” Allison whispered, her mouth so close to Flint's that he could feel her burning hot breath on his lips.

“Now and forever,” replied Flint, who almost grew faint as he felt her body pressed against his.

“Well, you can't have me until you've lived up to your end of the bargain,” she whispered and pulled away.

But before he could even reply (he had really thought she was going to swallow him whole, which he would have loved), Allison had taken off, darting through the air like a rocket. Flint could only stare in disbelief. Good God! What had Caligula done? And how could a little Red like her fly like that?!

He flew after her. In a few seconds they had reached the Washington airport, found a plane about to take off for New York, and caught it on the fly. Flint chased after Allison and comfortably installed himself next to her in the airplane. She refused to even look at him. He was starting to think he'd gotten a raw deal, and decided it was time to take matters into his own hands.

“You're nearly as powerful as an old Angel now. At the speed you were going, you could have been in New York in an hour!”

“I don't want to waste my new powers; they're too precious.” Allison looked down longingly at the glass of champagne in the hand of the living passenger she was sitting on.

She was right about her powers, Flint realized. Unsure how to proceed, he tried another approach.

“You think you'll do better than Lili, thanks to Caligula's help? That you'll be able to ‘persuade' Ventousi?”

“No,” she replied calmly. “I couldn't care less about the drug right now. I want to see him behind bars. We're going back to New York to influence the detectives who are leading the investigation into my murder.”

He winced. Was she going back to see the inspectors or to find Jeremy? He couldn't be sure, and another emotion that he hadn't felt for centuries came rushing back: jealousy. He quickly brushed it aside, preferring to believe what Allison had said.

“Despite your new
powers
, you're still a very young Angel. You don't know how to use them, and have no idea how to guide the living in such a complicated case.”

What he was implying was obvious: “Not nearly as well as an old Angel like me.”

“You're probably right,” Allison conceded. Flint still took her for a fool, but she decided to play along just in case she actually did have problems influencing the detectives. “But you'll help me, won't you?”

He nodded obediently.

Allison loved it: the feeling of power and strength, the feeling of control. She loved to watch Flint, the venerable Flint, wriggle like a worm on a hot summer sidewalk. She could almost see his tongue wagging like a good little doggy, ready to do anything she asked. She stretched out comfortably on her living passenger, delighted. Oh, how great it was to no longer have any doubts, to no longer be afraid (because she had been afraid for so many years—afraid to live her life to the fullest, above all)! She would make Ventousi rot in prison. And would feed off his anguish and misery. Day after day.