Chapter 2 The Seraphim

“Thomas, all your friends are dead, and no one knows where you are.” The short interrogator casually stated.

I was sure he was under five feet tall. He was Hispanic with short dark hair and pale skin. The interrogator’s face was thin, and his nose was long, giving him a very rat-like appearance. The little bastard even wore shoes with thick soles so he could appear taller.

Currently, I was chained to the floor in a large room of a mansion. The room was bare with a cement floor, and cinder block walls. The door was made of iron, and there were no windows. It was essentially a jail cell with a drain in the middle of the room. Both of my hands were cuffed with manacles. Enough chain was provided, so I was forced to bend over and look at him directly at his level. He sat in a metal folding chair, and a soiled American flag was crumpled into the corner. It wasn’t the worst situation I’ve ever been in, but it certainly ranks in the top ten.

What could be worse, you ask yourself? Well, let’s rewind to high school when I brought my prom date home without her virginity intact. Her father was a retired Army Ranger and one seriously scary bastard. When I picked her up, he was sitting in the middle of his living room, cleaning his gun collection quietly. The whole time I waited, he said nothing. On the way out, he said four words. “Thomas, don’t disappoint me.”

Compared to him, this guy wasn’t shit. The fucker even had a Napolean complex, to my utmost delight.

“Your team is all dead, and no one knows where you are.” He began. “Tell me, why are the SEALs operating so far into Argentina?

Not even twenty-four hours ago, my team was ambushed, and I was taken as a prisoner. Everyone save one was lying on the ground riddled with bullets as a bag went over my head and my wrists restrained. My only hope was to buy time for someone to rescue me or look for an opening. Angel was the only one I didn’t see dead.

“Too many questions at once! I like your hair. How do you get it to come out of your nose like that?” I’ve been faking a thick Irish accent since capture. It works for the most part. Since English was his second language, it took a moment for the words to register.

“I heard once some midgets have normal size cocks. Well, their men do. I don’t know about their women. I can’t say I’ve ever seen either naked. I don’t suppose you would drop your trousers and show what side of the fence you’re on.”

Napolean immediately punched me in the face after putting on a pair of weighted gloves with steel knuckles, aka sap gloves. “I told you I’m not a fucking midget!”

The copper taste of blood filled my mouth. “My apologies, that was completely insensitive of me. Little person or dwarf? I can’t ever seem to get it straight. Too many blows to the head and far too few pints. If you’re not, then you have a little man’s dick. My condolences to your wife, nice wedding ring.”

Several more blows came, and one of them caused blood to splatter on a nearby guard who just now walked in.

“You need to drive through with your hips when you punch. Get your shoulder behind it and rotate your hand as you connect.” I instructed.

Several more blows came, and each one just barely avoided knocking me out. Even someone as small as him can make good use of those gloves.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you don’t like me much,” I gasped, hunched over. I was six-one, and I refused to get down on my knees. If Napolean beat me unconscious, all the better. It would buy me more time. Keeping him pissed off derailed his train of thought.

“That’s it! You have the idea. Why don’t you try it on that guard over there? Oh, you can’t reach? I’m sorry. I forgot you’re too short. I bet you needed to stand on a chair to reach puberty.” Then I laughed mockingly.

Napolean wasn’t even asking questions anymore. The punches resumed savagely. Eventually, he got tired and walked over to a rock by the chair, wrapped it in the American flag, and returned. “Oh shit,” I thought. I just pushed him too far. If he kills me, there is no rescue.

A knock was heard at the door, and one of the guards opened it. “We are missing several patrols,” the guard outside reported in Spanish.

Looking over at the guard, I just chuckled.

Napolean snapped his head around to look at me. “You understand Spanish?”

“That was Spanish? Mary’s hairy twat! No wonder I failed Italian. It sounded like a gang bang was starting next door, and you are the guest of honor. I guess everyone will see how small of a dick you have after all.”

Napolean pulled back his fist to punch me again before I suddenly pleaded with him. “Okay! I have a confession.” When he stopped, I continued.

“Truthfully, It’s not a confession. It’s a prediction. My crystal ball tells me you will be dead in fifteen minutes.” I said, dropping my Irish accent.

The diminutive interrogator laughed mirthlessly. “You’re no more Irish than I am. What makes you think I only have fifteen minutes to live, funny man?”

“Let me go and chain yourself where I’m at, and MAYBE you live,” I instructed.

Napolean didn’t move, but I continued my prediction. “You have a big head for such a tiny body, so maybe you will understand what I’m going to tell you. You are so unbelievably fucked you won’t believe what is about to happen. What I’m about to say to you is classified, so you can’t tell anyone. We need to pinky swear before I go on.”

I held up my pinky. The interrogator scowled at me, and it didn’t take a mind reader to know he thought I was full of shit.

“I know the person who is causing your men to disappear. He is the single scariest killer I’ve ever seen. He wasn’t among the bodies when you took me, so I’m assuming you didn’t kill him. That, my diminutive friend, is a fuck up of epic proportions. He has no friends or family outside the military, and I’m guessing you just killed his only friends. Growing up, his uncle was a real prick by grooming him to do nothing but fight and kill at an early age.”

I ticked each of the following off on a finger. “Golden gloves, mixed martial arts, grappling, street fighting, knife fighting, shooting competitions, stealth kills, wilderness survival, urban survival, and so on. He was shooting deer in the mountains of Pennsylvania at an age where the law is to be 12. He was 8. You say to yourself, what’s so scary about that? It’s his shooting. His ability to shoot can only be explained as supernatural. Adding to that, he is fast, really goddamned fast. A man I’ve bet you’ve never heard of is Bob Munden. He holds 18 world records for speed shooting. He can pull a .45 single action, fire it and return it to his holster in 0.175 seconds, point zero one seven five seconds! He can burst two balloons and make it sound like a single shot. It’s well documented, and there are quite a few videos of the guy. The man coming for you right now shoots like that. We timed him once at 0.178 seconds, and It’s amazing to see firsthand. However, if you are at the receiving end, you will never really see it if you catch my meaning. He told me once his asshole of an uncle took him to the range and came across some big wig national shooting champion. He was thirteen and ANNIHILATED this guy at fifty yards with accuracy alone. I imagine it was like seeing Tyson get knocked out by Buster Douglas, except this Buster Douglas hadn’t reached puberty yet. Nobody thought to take a video, and this champion wanted to take him onto some national shooting circuit. His uncle turned him down, and they never returned to a public range.”

The interrogator seemed to be silently absorbing the details of my story. Now that I’m talking, he didn’t want to interrupt.

“Ask yourself, well, how does that translate to be a killer? That was only the beginning of what he was forced to go through. His uncle died under mysterious circumstances a year later. I wouldn’t feel bad about that prick. He had it coming in spades. He gets adopted and raised by another guy who turns out to be the opposite. The adopted father took him to church and tried to teach him to turn the other cheek and all that horseshit. His new family had an adopted daughter too. The adopted daughter was a Hispanic girl who was a few years older than him. They get along well until she goes into her bathroom, pulls out a razor, and kills herself one day. It turns out some online stalker lured her to meet him. When she did, he raped her. Worse, she was a virgin at the time and only fifteen. She was so overcome she couldn’t bring herself to live with it. Anyway, when he learned about it, he tracked this guy down. When he did.” I whistled and shook my head dramatically. Napolean seemed to be getting into it. Looking back at the guards, I noticed there were two in the room now. Both were listening to my story.

“He was questioned, but since he had an alibi, he wasn’t prosecuted. They didn’t have any evidence against him. Nobody seemed to be losing any sleep over the death of an online stalker and rapist. Kind of like how no one cares Epstein didn’t kill himself.”

“What happened to him pales in comparison to anything you can think of to do to me. Later in high school, he made further examples of people who were bullying his friends. I don’t think he killed any of them. They just wished he had.”

The guards’ position changed. One stood next to the interrogator, the other on the wall opposite the door.

“That, my diminutive friend, is a tiny taste of what is coming for you. I was trained to become a SEAL. He was raised that way. I have more stories of things we’ve done in the field in case you get too bored.”

On cue, the door opened slowly, and a large man walked casually inside. The fuckstick of a guard didn’t even lock it. The large man held a Colt revolver. It wasn’t his issued sidearm, so it must have come from one of the guards. The man standing there was six and a half feet tall and extremely broad. SEALS aren’t typically large guys because endurance training tends to shape them differently. He was an obvious exception. Brown hair, brown eyes, his skin tone was a deep caramel bronze and made pinpointing his racial heritage difficult. His hair was a wet mess, and he hadn’t shaved in a week. He currently wore a severe and stony expression. The last bit was pretty normal for him. It’s part of his charm.

“Angel! Nice of you to come.” I began cheerily, “My pint-size friend here just sent for a beer run. We’re expecting them anytime. Did you happen to see him on your way in?”

The newcomer ignored me but watched the two guards, who drew their weapons to point at him, demanding he drop his gun.

Glancing back at Napolean with a broad grin, he looked scared but tried to replace it with fake bravado. Pulling his sidearm, he pointed it at me.

“Angel, huh? Not a very scary name.”

I sighed dramatically. “You haven’t been listening. Angel isn’t his real name. We call him that because he is our Angel of Death, you stupid little twat.”

Looking at one of the guards and I nodded toward Angel. “Angel de la Muerte” The one nearest him looked like he was ready to soil himself.

“Hey, dead man!” I yelled to the nervous guard. “You might want to take your safety off before you end up with a ruby crown.” The guard looked down at his assault rifle for a split second. That’s when it happened.

There was a roar of a discharging Colt. His right hand blurred, snapping three shots off in different directions. The sound lasted a little longer than a standard shot. Both guards collapsed with a bullet right into the middle of their forehead.

The interrogator screamed in pain, the pistol dropping to the ground. He was shot in the wrist, and his hand hung limply. He cradled his hand against his chest. He was looking shocked at how fast things changed.

Loudly I yelled, “Ruby crowns all around!” Referring to the two guards.

Angel finally spoke in a deep baritone voice. “Free him”

He scrambled to get keys out of his pocket with his good hand and couldn’t unlock me fast enough. Once free, I snapped the manacle around his good wrist, the other around his ankle.

I was having a hard time standing because I was crouched for so long. “For your fucking information. The symbol of my country doesn’t lie on the floor of some fucked up place like this.” Walking over to the flag, I picked it up and dropped the rock out of it. Then, I set the flag carefully across the chair and peeled off my shirt. Putting the rock inside, I swung the makeshift weapon a few times.

The big man spoke slowly with his baritone voice. “Everyone is dead. You are the last, and no one was able to get the word out for help, in case you’re wondering. How did you hear about us?”

The interrogator said nothing but looked resolute. I noticed he didn’t need to crouch as I did when handcuffed.

Before he could answer, I screamed at him, “What is your internet password?!”

He just looked confused and said, “What?”

Angel punched him in the back of the head. “I ask the questions, shitbag.” He said calmly

The punch rang his bell, and his eyes unfocused.

I continued screaming at him. “Do you like transvestite porn or not! Answer me!”

“What?” he stammered again, confused who to answer.

I swung my makeshift weapon at his unmanacled knee, connecting solidly. His leg collapsed under him.

“Say what again, I dare you, I double dare you motherfucker, say what one more Goddamn time!” I screamed at him.

He looked at me with fear. If he recognized the quote, he didn’t show it. Some people have no culture. It was a fantastic movie quote.

Angel walked around in front of him and held the revolver to his forehead but said nothing. The interrogator knew at that moment whose question was most important.

“I don’t fucking know. We got some random email giving us your location. It offered us ten million American dollars if we kill all of you. We tried to trace it, but whoever did it was good and was well hidden. We thought it was a trap and too good to be true, but all the information was right.”

I punched him in the stomach forcing the air out of his lungs. “Answer me! Have you fucked your wife in the ass today? What is eleven multiplied by twelve!”

It continued like that. I beat Napolean and asked confusing questions, keeping him off balance while Angel silently intimidated him waiting for answers. The former interrogator realized I would beat him anyway, and his focus needed to be on the one with the gun. He did the same thing many times.

In the end, little useful information was gathered. Except Angel was the intended target, and a picture of him was included for verification. Additionally, he named the account where the email was received along with the account password. Lastly, the computer where it was received, and that password also.

Looking directly at Angel, I held out my hand, indicating I wanted his Colt. Angel handed it to me without question. The interrogator started babbling in terror, knowing what was coming. A single shot ended his yelling, and the adrenaline holding me upright gave out, and I dropped to a knee.

Angel slipped under my arm. “The only easy day...” he began

“Was yesterday,” I said, finishing the SEAL quote. “Thanks, brother I thought I was a dead man. I had him so pissed off he couldn’t think straight. I figured he would have killed me a few times.”

“Buy me a beer, and we’ll call it even. You can lay off the Angel shit already,” he said thoughtfully. I couldn’t help it, I snorted a laugh, but now the adrenaline wore off. I realized my ribs were broken and winced. I wasn’t going to start calling him Isiah in the field.

“Just because you saved my life by killing an entire compound doesn’t mean you can fuck my sister,” I said teasingly.

“I lied. There are a whole lot of people still outside. We aren’t out of the woods yet. Also, come off it about your sister. You don’t even have one.” he complained

Stopping for a second, I turned to him, looking at him thoughtfully. “Isiah, buddy, if we weren’t brothers before, we are now. I promise you that I will have your back no matter what happens for the rest of our lives. What you just pulled off wasn’t just covering me going into combat. Your very life was just put on the line for me. You will never be without someone to lean on for help.”

He looked at me for a long moment, and he nodded. I felt a warm sensation wash over me. Some of my energy returned. I didn’t think anything of it. It happened many times in BUDS.

His baritone voice resonated, “Compared to the circus, this was easy.” He dismissed.

The circus was a term to describe remedial training in BUDS when people fall behind in qualifications. We were paired together in the “circus.” He was falling behind in swimming, and I was falling behind in everything else. He walked me through everything he knew. In turn, I helped him with his swimming. I was a nationally ranked swimmer and figured SEALS would be a breeze. I was very wrong. What he did for me wasn’t just motivation. He showed me what it took to succeed: the utter mental dedication to what I was working on, no half measures. He said motivation might flag as I get tired and mental toughness carried you past an obstacle. One month after we paired in the circus, we swam against everyone in a one-mile open water swim. We raced up onto the beach and looked back. We were surprised to see we finished long ahead of everyone else. Isiah pushed himself and kept pace with me. We kept pushing each other hard in other ways, and I would run faster, shoot straighter than the others. By the end of BUDS, we were at the top of every qualification.

The tension finally broke, and I started laughing. “That’s because you’re the worst swimmer the SEALS has ever seen. You wouldn’t have made it through BUDS without me.” I started shit-talking. It wasn’t even close to the truth.

He just snorted a laugh. “That’s probably true,” he said, dismissing it.

A silent moment passed before. “So, who do you think sent that email?” I asked.

“No idea, but let’s get the hard drive and get the fuck out of here. We’ll let the eggheads work that out.”

“Wait, I forgot something.” Turning, I grabbed the battered American flag and threw it over my shoulder, and took one of the assault rifles from the guards and a few clips.

The way out wasn’t any easier.

Chapter 2 Meet Lauren

Three men in the King’s garb burst through the door with a kick, swords raised.

“What do we have here?” The fat man with dried blood on his face sneered. They all smelled of shit. The last of them closed the door with a chuckle.

Trying to hide, they found me trembling in the corner. The King’s men won the battle, and the men were looting the village. As is typically the case, part of the spoils including taking the women as well.

Terrified, I tried to run to the door to escape. The last of the soldiers in the door, a thin man with a hawk-like face, grabbed her arm before she could wrench the door open.

“Not so fast,” he laughed.

I tried to punch the hawk-like man, but it just connected with his forehead. Pain shot up my arm, and I wondered if my hand was broken. They all continued their mocking laughter when they threw me on the table, and the second one pinned my face down. Panic rose in my chest, and I struggled to breathe.

“It’s about time we find a pretty one.” the fat one said.

“Pretty enough to be royalty, I’d say,” commented hawk man.

“Is that right, sweetheart? Are you royalty?” he continued.

It was impossible to shake my head, but the fat man loomed over me, expecting a reply. Instead, I tried to mumble something. Pain shot through my back when the fat man punched me in the kidney. “He asked you a bloody question! Are you royalty”

“N-N-n no,” stammering despite the pain.

“Oh, that’s too bad. I always wanted to have a bit of royal pussy”

His filthy hands reached down between my legs and yanked down my undergarments. The sound of his pants coming down was also heard.

All my life, everyone always told me how pretty I was. Suitors of all classes came to court and tried to win favor. A misunderstanding surrounding my courting is what caused this whole mess. One of the King’s court nobles insisted on my hand. Unfortunately, it was hotly disputed by the local lord. What made this all worse is neither of them is who I genuinely wanted. My heart belonged to someone else, Ansel. He was a local soldier and woodcutter only known in passing.

I had no idea any of this would happen. So many people died, and it was all my fault. I was still a virgin, no less. It appears these soldiers had no idea who I was. It was their lord who wanted her returned.

Screaming as he pressed his cock against my backside, threatening to sheath it inside.

Suddenly a loud crash was heard, and yelling followed. The fat man grunted and fell motionless on top, pinning me to the table.

The next few moments stretched out. What felt like minutes was only a few seconds. The hawk man screamed and went silent. Another scuffle was heard, and that went silent also.

In a moment, I felt the fat man on top get shifted off. I was spinning around and lowering my dress, trying to gauge the new intruders. Ansel stood there looking concerned all the men in the room were dead.

He was tall, much taller than most men, and broader in the chest and shoulders. He possessed dark sun-bronzed skin, brown hair, and warm brown eyes. His bulk was attributed to the heavy labor of cutting wood and his duties as a soldier.

Those eyes. So warm. The compassion flowing from him was palpable.

“You!” I said dumbly

“Me,” he replied with a slight grin.

The mixture of extreme emotions of the last several hours culminated, and I didn’t think. I just rushed into his arms. I was clutching to his bulk and sobbing.

Ansel held me but asked, “Marie, are you okay?”

I nodded against him silently.

I dreamed nightly of him taking me away from this political mess, just the two of us. He never seemed to notice me, and I became a little self-conscious around him at times. My attempts to garner his attention seemed to bear little fruit.

“Is this what it takes to get you to notice me?” Ansel asks a bit timidly

My eyes snapped open, glancing up at him in shock.

“Notice you?! Are you mad?” I was incredulous.

He shrugged apologetically.

“I couldn’t possibly tart myself up more when you’re around. I’ve been trying to catch your eye for months. You barely deign to even say hello to me. I’d guess you either didn’t like me or had feelings for another”

He looked shocked and didn’t know what to say. A mirthless laugh escaped me, and I contemplated how much of this could have been avoided.

“All those men and lords.” he began

“They weren’t YOU silly fool! It’s YOU I want.” placing my hands on his cheeks.

Our eyes finally fixed on each other, and everything finally clicked into place. Months of dancing around each other finally ended. At that moment, all was right in the world, and nothing else existed.

Ansel looked down and leaned in briefly for a kiss but resolve spread into his features. “Let’s get out of here. I know a place we can be safe for a while.”

My head nodded excitedly. My wildest dream is finally coming true.

Pulling an ax from the back of the fat man, he turned to the door. Chaos and battle still raged in the streets. He pulled a dagger and gave it to me. I didn’t know what to do with the stupid thing and held it loosely.

Glancing back at me, he nodded, then pulled the door open to step out. They hurried through an alleyway and came out to the main street.

Our attempts at stealth were in vain because a group of six of the King’s men noticed and fanned out in front of Ansel. Their weapons raised.

Spinning around, I noticed two more approaching from behind. We were surrounded.

Ansel roared a battle cry and charged. He took down two men in the first few seconds.

However, three of them moved around to his sides, flanking him. One of his attacks was retaliated with a flanking swipe at his leg, striking deep. His leg collapsed, and I watched on in horror as a sword exploded out his back from the front.

I screamed in desperation and the nearest man with my dagger.

It all happened so fast. The man blocked her dagger and returned with a backhand slash across my throat. I felt nothing at first except warm blood spilling down the front of my dress. My last thoughts were of Ansel.

I sat bolt upright in bed, gripping my throat and hyperventilating from my most recent night terror.

Joshua, my fiancé, stirred next to me. “Lauren, sweetheart, are you okay? Was it another bad dream?”

A coughing fit struck me, and I struggled to get out of bed. The past few weeks have been particularly bad for my health. My sexual promiscuity came back to haunt me. I was HIV positive. I could capitalize on my looks in high school and college and wasn’t very discerning with men. Sometimes even multiple partners at the same time, both women and men. It was all fun and games until some asshole dug up some dirt on my dad and threatened to ruin his legacy if I didn’t do what he wanted. It took everything I had to block the memories of the things he forced me to do. Slutting me out to his friends wasn’t even the worst thing his twisted mind could think up for me. When I came back HIV positive, it was in some ways a relief from the horror he subjected me daily. I swore off sex altogether when I left, and no one knows how many people I might have infected as a result.

Lately, my health has taken a downward turn, and the dreams have gotten pretty bad.

Joshua was a man I met in the middle of this mess. He refused to take part in any of the torture. In the end, Joshua took me into his home and cared for me. Agreeing to a relationship without sex, he doted on me the way my father did before he passed. His family, like mine, was very wealthy and had an extraordinary grasp of financial matters. My only honest criticism is he was a little too meek. It was hard to fully respect him if he didn’t take a stand for his beliefs. He did have good character and a fantastic family. That was the only reason I said yes when he proposed marriage. If anything, he helped me restore faith in people. There were good and honest men around.

Initially, I loved the thought of having children. Unfortunately, my condition is a big hiccup in the overarching plan to have an extensive family. It’s my dream to have a big family. I was an only child, so the thought of having siblings was a perpetual dream. In college, before I was blackmailed, I planned to have lots of children and have plenty of friends to join in my joy. Joshua broached the topic of surrogacy, but I wouldn’t say I liked the idea, so we avoided the subject.

Seeing Joshua’s family was amazing. They were loving and accepting. It was easy to see how the depth of his character developed. It was unusual to see a family with a high net worth get along so well. They were all kind and philanthropic. It gave me hope for everyone in the future to see money doesn’t corrupt everyone. It makes me sad thinking about what I needed to do.

Standing up, I pulled the plush hotel robe around me and stared out the nighttime city of London. Absently, I played with my bracelet, and my thoughts drifted about the past few months.

When I accepted Joshua’s proposal, he pampered me by taking me on a world tour. Each country we visited created a new nightmare. We visited England, Italy, Greece, Russia, and Argentina, naming a few. The man in the dreams always had a different name, but it was the same man. We were always lovers, and in every dream, we were killed before we ever consummated our relationship. The man was always large, dark-skinned, and a warrior of some variety. It was a cruel twist of fate to be the person to watch him die first constantly. In every dream, I felt strong emotions for the man. It felt so real. The only deviation from the pattern was in Los Angeles, where I was gunned down in the street. That particular dream was a special kind of evil. We were so close and so happy. Six months ago, I wouldn’t have believed in destiny or anything of the type, but the dreams were getting to me.

Since having these dreams, I was becoming much more aware of people and patterns around me. Lacking a better way to phrase it, I’ll call it a psychic intuition. Pondering them, the man was familiar, yet I couldn’t place him. Every nightmare layered itself upon another. After a few months, I was as intimately familiar with the stranger as anyone in my life. The thought of standing with my arms around his neck is as equally sad as it is exciting. My heart flutters in my chest with the very idea.

Living with this sickness, I had no idea how long I had left. It could be years if I were persistent with medication. The realization of my short time sparked a flame I couldn’t extinguish. Before I passed, I needed to find out if the mystery man was alive today. I would need to take a leap of faith, and it occurred to me if I failed, I would die alone.

Joshua slid his arms around my waist from behind with a tender embrace. Tears sprung to my eyes, unbidden. He was so considerate, and I loved that about him. My heart broke in anticipation of what I needed to do to someone with such a generous heart.