Chapter 1

It was late spring, 2012. Raindrops fell like miniscule fists upon the city of New York, washing away the grime and filth that caked the streets and alleys. It was quiet on this late-spring day, with the hammering rain forcing people to stay inside. Even the roads were mostly quiet, while engorged with cars as usual. But while it was a quiet day, it was by no means a peaceful one.

Up at the very top of the Empire State Building, at the very tip of its spire, there was a low red flash in the grey sky. From this flash, a glowing orb came into existence, resembling a crimson light bulb. It was not bright or powerful enough to draw attention from the people below and it was completely masked by torrential rain. The raindrops that passed by this burning flash were turned into hissing steam from just the intense proximity and the unnatural heat being given off.

The orb did not fade after the initial flash; instead, it grew in intensity and size while becoming darker in shade. Initially the size of a human fist, it began to expand into an undulating vertical disk as large as a dinner table. There was a second flash and the disk became still, having completed its metamorphosis. It became solid like glass, with shifting hues of red swirling within.

Black mist spewed out from the bottom of the disk, pouring out slowly and streaming down like thick tar. The mist washed over the spire of the top of the building, causing the metal to rust and deteriorate as if exposed to acid. Echoing from this ominous curtain of red light was a choir of agonizing screams and cries of pain, pouring out from the depths of the blood-red light. Were the weather clear, the people down in the streets would instantly gaze up in horror at the source of this bone-chilling orchestra and cover their ears to try and protect their souls from its ravaging tone. The sound radiating from this dark apparition was one not meant for mortal ears, a sound that was never intended to be set loose upon the earth. Only through the purifying drumming of the rain were the people of New York spared the mind-scarring chorus.

A ripple stretched out from the center of the disk and a shadow came into view from its depths, like a sea beast slowly rising to the surface of the ocean. Slowly, a figure stepped out onto the top of the spire, standing on the tip of the radio tower on one foot. The figure was a tall young man with a lean but muscular build, garbed in brown boots, grey baggy pants, a black sash, and a black hooded shirt with a vest. Wrapped around his wrists were two rosary bead cords and two metal shackles. The man had long, messy black hair, a gray complexion, cobalt eyes with crimson sclera, and hidden under his hood were two horns that protruded just past his hair line and reached back across his scalp almost aerodynamically.

As he fully stepped out of the fiery doorway, a burning halo came into view, hovering above his head, as well as four massive wings that grew out of his back. Each was more than twice the size of his body when fully unfolded and stretched, with the lower set of wings resembling bat wings but with scales instead of flesh, and the upper wings like the wings of an eagle, but were whiter than pearls. Protruding from the back of his pelvis was a long black tail with a rope-like length and flexibility and a bladed stinger on the end like a butcher knife, but with a tearing barb. His fingertips were armed with triangular claws that tapered down with razor-sharp edges.

His name was Baltoh, and his arrival was an omen in every sense of the world.

The crimson portal disappeared and Baltoh looked out over the city, standing on the tip of the radio tower and wrapped in his wings. His eyes scanned the city below, taking in the view. It hadn’t been very long since his last visit to the human world, as he traveled there frequently.

“I’ll find you, just you wait...” he muttered with a voice that was as clear and unwavering as it was deep.

He then opened up his wings and elevated without a single flap, slowly rising higher into the sky. He then pushed off the air with the muscular sails and took off across the sky, invisible to everyone below.

Selene Kurland walked down the sidewalk with her eyes focused on the book of crossword puzzles in her hand. Even with her mind completely focused on figuring out a seven-letter word for “energy spreading”, she skirted through the crowds of daily commuters and the erratic flow of traffic.

Selene was a beautiful woman in her mid twenties with a chocolate complexion, long black hair that was straight yet wavy, and bright green eyes. Matching her beauty was her hourglass figure, with d-cup breasts, a slender waist, an ass and pair of thighs that were toned with muscle, and hips that swung like a clock pendulum with each step. Her figure was a mixture of good genes and a nearly religious devotion to her gym. Not surprisingly, the results came together literally without a flaw.

She was wearing black high-healed shoes that gave a very sexy tap with each step, a black skirt that tightly held to her smooth thighs, and a tan business coat with her purse hanging from her shoulder. Secured in her purse and leaning against her shoulder was an umbrella, deflecting the torrential sheets of rain. Maybe she should have driven today...

Selene loved puzzles, but not because of a specific affinity for the mental exercise. She liked them because they posed a challenge, something that allowed her to push herself to her limits. She was always searching for a challenge, something to break the boring routine of life, it was why she moved to New York in the first place (where unfortunately the only job she could get was a soul-sucking one in a cubicle). In this case, her challenge for today was to get to work without putting down the crossword book or getting run over.

As she walked past the tent-city of Zuccotti Park, she raised her free hand and gave a thumbs-up.

“Occupy!” she called out without looking up from the puzzle.

“Occupy!” several of the protesters cheered in return, glad for the small piece of support.

“Entropy!” she exclaimed with a smile as she finally caught the word she was looking for. Hearing a ring in her purse, she quickly scribbled in the word before pulling out her phone.

“Hey Molly, what’s up?” she asked as she waited at the street corner for the chance to cross.

“You had better get your ass over here, because if your desk is vacant when Mr. Reed passes by, you’ll really have to get on your knees and “beg” to keep your job,” her coworker and good friend warned jokingly.

Selene chuckled as she and the crowd of commuters walked across the street with the legion of cars humming just a few feet away. “Don’t we have this same conversation every day?”

“If we didn’t, you would permanently got lost on the path of life,” Molly remarked.

Selene laughed again. “Ok, you’re right on that one. Relax, I’m just one block away, meaning that I’m about to get splashed with the dirtiest puddle any second now. I’ll be there in a minute. By the way, do you know a twelve-letter word for a high school math class?”

She walked past a group of protestors with republican candidate signs, shouting for people to vote out Obama, even with the elections months away.

A Gargoyle sat crouched on the observation deck of a skyscraper, staring down at the city with glowing red eyes. The creature was shorter than an adult human but much more muscular, with long powerful limbs, serrated talons protruding from its fingers and hook-like toes, bony wings with scaly flesh and thin membranes, twisted horns above it’s disfigured jackal face, a swishing whip-like tail, and jet-black skin that was covered in bloody scars. The tar-like saliva that dripped from its jagged teeth burned the stone with the sound of sizzling bacon.

The Gargoyle stood up, while maintaining a slouched-over posture, and opened its wings with an abnormally loud thump, like the beat of an ancient war drum. It leaped off the tower and plunged towards the ground, completely invisible to all mortal eyes. Reaching the entrance of the building, it held open its wings to their full size and flapped them, catching the air whooshing past. The puddles and falling rain around the front doors almost exploded from the pulsing shockwave as it shot up into the air.

Soaring lazily over the city, the beast tried to control its excitement and thirst for blood. Only the luckiest of Gargoyles managed to reach the world of living, the luckier few at full strength, and here, there was more food than its deranged mind could comprehend. Looking down, creature spotted its first victim. On the roof of a nearby office building, a man had stepped outside for some much-needed fresh air.

Having just received a call from his wife that she had a miscarriage, the balding middle-aged man did not care that it was raining; he just needed to get out of the building so that no one would see him cry. Landing behind him, the Gargoyle gave off a loud splashing sound. The man turned around, having lost the feeling that he was alone. While the unholy beast was invisible, the man’s eyes widened with terror as he saw its silhouette in the rain, as each drop that splattered on its body showed its size and shape.

Lashing out, the Gargoyle slashed the man across the chest, ripping open his ribcage and torso cavity. The man released a garbled cry of pain as blood streamed from his mouth and his organs spilled out onto the ground. The man fell dead and the Gargoyle pounced, feasting on the man while the blood slowly spread across the rain-soaked roof. The Gargoyle fed on the carcass with relish, tearing through the body with its claws and chewing on the bloody meat only briefly.

As it slurped up a line of intestines like a spaghetti strand, a bright flash of light flared beside it and the Gargoyle screeched in pain as its severed wing and arm fell to the floor with thick blood trickling from its veins. Baltoh stood behind the creature with a meter-long sword in his hand. The handle had no guard and was shaped only by millennia of an iron grip, while the single-edged blade had a very narrow shape with serrations until two thirds up the length. After that point, the size suddenly swelled with an abrupt gut-hook to weigh down the end of the blade for enhanced hacking and slashing. The sword finally tapered off to a stabbing point, essentially making it so that anyone struck by the blade would either be ravaged by two feet of straight-razor serrations, ripped open like a gutted fish by the hook-like edge, cleaved by the weighted twelve-inch end, or stabbed by the pointed tip.

“Where is he?” Baltoh demanded as the Gargoyle staggered back with blood sloppily pouring from the stumps if its severed arm and wing.

“You! How did you know we were here?!” the beast hissed.

“That is none of your concern. Where is Abaddon!?”

The Gargoyle began to laugh. “You shall receive nothing from me, traitor. I was born of pain and malice, and there is nothing you can do to make me talk.”

Baltoh’s flaming halo flared up like burning oil and the white feathers of his upper wings stood on end. “Whether it is stubbornness or loyalty to the Devil, your silence will accomplish nothing. I will find him and destroy you all.” With a dark roar, the Gargoyle lunged forward with black smoke billowing from its claws like fire. With little effort, Baltoh caught the Gargoyle’s wrist before its talons could reach his face, then severed its hand with only his grip. “You should know that your strength is nothing compared to mine, but it does not surprise me, after all, you are just a lowly Gargoyle.”

The creature staggered back in agony, and before it could retaliate, Baltoh aimed his palm at it. “Angel Art: Holy Burn.”

A flash of light was released from his palm with the brightness of the sun. The light obliterated the hell-spawn creature with a metaphysical impact of holy fire, incinerating its body while shoving it back. While the flash was visible from below, anyone who saw it would merely mistake it for a particularly powerful bolt of lightning. Baltoh then turned to the butchered remains of the slain man. He snapped his fingers and the ravaged body was incinerated in a surge of white flames, removing every trace and not even leaving ashes behind.

Abaddon stood in the bell tower of the Riverside Church, watching the rain pour ceaselessly. Behind him were several bowed Gargoyles, all with lowered eyes and swishing tails. Abaddon was not a Gargoyle, he was a Demon, and while they were similar in nature, comparing them would be like comparing house cats to lions.

Abaddon’s body was very similar to the Gargoyles’, with bat-like wings, jet-black scaly flesh, a long tail, long talons protruding from the ends of his fingers and toes, and curled horns on the top of his head. However, his body was far more humanoid, with longer limbs and bones, a much straighter posture, more malleable digits, a muscular yet leaner and less bulky physique, a humanoid face, and even spiky hair. Secured to his wrists were two metal shackles and he was wearing a skirt of armor plates around his waist, similar to a gladiator or knight.

The Demon growled as he looked out over the city. “I can’t believe that bastard followed us here. He already killed one of us, and our plan can’t work if we lose another. Not even I can face him in battle the way I am. All of you will lay low and remain hidden, but I need to feed so that I may become strong enough to fight him. If I feed on enough souls, I may be able to at least survive confrontation, but you are all to keep a low profile...”

Selene walked down the street, still working on her book of crossword puzzles. The rain had finally stopped in in unison with the lost the light of the sun, and with the darkness of the city, it was likely that the vast puddles and blanket of water would not dry until the next day. The night was unusually dark. For even though the rain had stopped, the thick clouds remained and they refused to allow the moon to shine. With so much moisture in the city, a thick mist thickened the air, almost making if difficult to breath and wrapping around every lamppost and window like a straightjacket, locking in the light so that all else remained dark.

Selene walked this street twice a day to and from work, so she had no worries. Even in the darkness with no one around, she felt safe enough to walk home. Not to mention the fact that the can of mace she carried in her purse was strong enough to melt the eyes out of anyone who gave her a funny look.

In a stretch of time so small that she couldn’t even think of something to compare it to, Selene’s world was suddenly flipped upside-down as her senses were ripped away, save for the sound of a crackling rattle and the feeling of getting stabbed at every centimeter of flesh in her body with hot irons while battery acid flooded her veins. Her legs buckled under the agony and she felt herself being snatched up by multiple arms with brutal force and dragged into the nearby alley.

“Damn, that taser worked like a charm. The bitch isn’t even screaming,” a course voice laughed.

Selene’s eyes rolled randomly as she tried to identify whoever had attacked her, but whatever taser they had used on her, she couldn’t imagine it being a regular model if the affects were this debilitating. She couldn’t move or even make a sound; she was completely crippled by the pain of the excruciating shock.

Selene was slammed against a brick wall with one of her captors gripping her by the throat. The impact, while painful, offered some clarity, as she was now able to at least see her attackers. One was facing her, as mentioned before, with his hand around her throat, the second was standing beside the first, and the third was a few feet away, digging through her purse.

“Damn, she’s nice piece of ass. It looks like we’ll get a little more than some cash and credit cards,” the second one laughed.

The words felt like an icy finger being dragged up Selene’s spine as she realized what they were about to do to her.

“No ... please...” she gasped with her throat burning. Her plea got her a hard smack to the cheek.

“Unless you’re begging for my cock, you had better shut the fuck up...” the first growled as he drew a knife. “ ... If you know what’s good for you.”

Looking through the stars of the stinging smack, Selene’s eyes widened as she saw the faint light glinting off the blade. Like his knife, the dim light was reflected off his teeth as he gave a cruel smile. Holding the knife as if he were going to stab her, he slipped the tip of the blade into her collar. For the briefest second, the tip of the blade was touching her skin, and never before had she felt something so stingingly cold. To her relief, the knife was taken off of her skin, but before she could exhale, her attacker yanked the blade downwards, tearing through her coat, shirt, and bra. With tears streaming from her eyes, Selene cried out in pain as blood trickled down her belly from the deep cut left on her breast from the attacker’s malicious and clumsy removal of her clothes.

He then tore through her skirt and panties and the second attacker went to work yanking off the shredded remains. Selene shivered in terror and helplessness as the cool air fanned her bare thighs and firm breasts. Her nipples stood erect from the cold air and the fear that filled every fiber of her being.

“Look at those sweet tits of hers, I wonder how much cum has been shot onto them. I imagine a little white would look great on that dark skin,” the third attacker joked as he approached, jamming a handful of cash into his pocket and throwing aside her purse.

They were really going to rape her, and that fact terrified Selene more than anything else in her life. She had to do something, anything that had the slightest chance of sparing her from this fate. Working up all the strength in her exhausted body, she screamed at the top of her lungs, “SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME! HEL—”

Her scream was cut short as the attacker’s blade was plunged into the side of her stomach, cutting through her without any effort. The pain that shot through her was so excruciating, she lost all control over her body and mind. The pain inflicted to her with the knife lodged in her flesh was even more horrible than the taser, something that she thought was impossible. With blood slowly filling her mouth, her body became limp while her attackers just laughed.

‘Is this it? Am I going to die here? Will these monsters raping be the last thing I feel before I slip away? Is this really how it ends for me?’ she thought desperately as blood trickled from her lower lip and dripped on the hand around her throat.

“Let her go,” a voice echoed through the alley. The deep voice was as clear as glass and the very sound of it shook Selene from her dying daze.

She and her three attackers looked to the entrance of the alley, where a lone figure stood, silhouetted against the light of the lampposts in the street.

‘Yes, thank you, someone heard me,’ thought Selene.

“Who the fuck are you?!” the second attacker barked.

“Let her go, this is your final warning,” the man ordered with more authority and power in his voice than any living human could have.

The first attacker pulled his knife out of Selene, making her scream in pain. “Listen asshole, either walk away or I’ll carve off your face, he’ll kick your ass, and he’ll stomp on your nuts.”

The silhouetted figure cricked his neck. “You want to face me? Very well...”

Before he continued, four large wings grew out of his back, with the feathers along the edge of the upper wings flanged like the quills of a porcupine and the lower bat-like wings honed to the sharp shape of a blade. With blood oozing down her chin, Selene gasped in disbelief and the three attackers staggered back, cursing in fear. The man with the knife dropped her and she slumped to the ground with blood pouring from her wound.