Dwindling Glory - Lament of the Fallen IC

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[DASH=#FFDC50]GM POST
"He is yours..." whispered the Dhampir, the wind carrying both the orb of light and his words towards Alex, who was on the floor stunned beyond words at the reappearance of his lover. His heart was twisted and his chest hurt, because he saw no recognition, no recollection of the times they'd shared in those emerald green eyes that he had so adored. He jumped, nearly out of his skin, nearly evoking the power of the sigil that ran in his blood, when he heard the Dhampir's words.

The blond reached out and took the orb in his hands. It pulsed with warmth, and kindness, and purity, and innocence... How Alex was able to tell all of those, he could not entirely discern, only that it was something that had appeared in the back of his mind the instant he held the orb. Not only that, but the orb itself almost immediately imprinted on him a sense of protectiveness and love that he had only ever felt towards the members of the pack that he had once been forming.

Tawny brown eyes locked with emerald green ones, and though a spark of understanding leaped through the air between them, there was none of the familiarity that had once been there. Though he was happy that his lover was back in the world of the living, Alex despaired that Jason seemed to remember nothing of him. As the tears rolled down his face, he vowed that he would find a way to restore the brunet's memories. He would do so if it was the last thing he ever did in the mortal realm.

With a smile, one whose sincerity was quite difficult to discern, the Dhampir released Leon and turned. Before him, a tear in the fabric of reality appeared, and the sulfurous stench of Hell wafted through. The Dhampir stepped through, and the tear revolved shut with the sound of great stones booming shut. He would see the Dhampir again, Alex was sure of it. When he did, he would make sure the man remembered his beloved were-lion.

"With all due respect, master Ezeckial, we will do no such thing. Our Alpha is coming. For now the entire neighbourhood is alert, and we have a Drakkan on the lookout for any further Celestial incursion" said Gabriel, fixing Ezeckial with a level gaze as he patted Alex on the shoulder. He could only imagine what his son was going through... No. He could actually feel it in the back of his head, in the bond that the young detective had long ago established with his developing pack. Alex's pack was returning, developing again, now that his Omega was back. It was unprecedented. The older were-lion made a mental note to talk to Francois about it.

As though on cue, a black limousine pulled up before the house, and Francois stepped out. He was in full battle regalia, and in his hybrid form. Though older than most were-creatures, Francois was still an Alpha, the strongest of their kind, and a formidable opponent despite his advanced age. The hilts of two falchions poked out from the sheaths that hung at his hip, and a leopard's tail swished behind him.

"Monsieur" said Gabriel, walking over to the doorway where Leon was still standing, more than a little bit stunned by the turn of events. "I believe it has begun." The leopard growled as though to say 'no shit,' but Gabriel simply shrugged. It was his duty as Beta to inform his Alpha of what was going on, and he did so, much to Francois' occasional annoyance. "Shall we declare it so?" The leopard nodded and together the two senior members of the pack ascended the stairs to Gabriel's study, the rest of the people in the house forgotten for the moment.

There, Francois shifted back, his armour resizing itself as well to fit his much smaller human form. On the computer screen, Gabriel typed the message that would be sent to all the major packs of the world. "The Clouds of War Gather. Please confirm." Next to the message, Francois typed his authorization code, one that all the pack Alphas would recognize, one that would legitimize the message and shed truth on its urgency. Gabriel sent the message before turning to his Alpha. "And now we wait."

Much to both their surprise, the cursor on the screen blinked once, twice, thrice... The other packs were waiting on confirmation. Once, twice, thrice. A message was coming in from Nepal. "Everest confirms. The Vultures Circle" came the response. And then, the flood of messages from the other packs came. It was the fastest response they had ever received, and definitely faster than they could have hoped for. Perhaps there truly was hope left in the world. Only time would tell if the level of communication and cooperation would continue well into the conflict.

Gabriel patched Francois into the voice-messaging system of the worldwide were-creature network. Now his voice would be heard by any and all were-creatures in their command centres, tuning in to what was going on in Vancouver. "My brethren, the time has come. Our sworn duty to protect mankind from the ravages of the Heavenly Host has become paramount. Rally the Shadows. Prepare for operation Megiddo" said the Alpha grimly, speaking into the microphone that transmitted his voice loud and clear the world over.

Everything that the Shadows had been preparing since the end of the last Great Conflict was about to be put to the test. They could only hope that they were not already infiltrated and set up to fail before they could even begin. Francois nodded to Gabriel. "It's about time" said the wealthy mogul. "The Pack did not spend twelve billion dollars building that complex for it to not be used."

[/DASH]
 
ALEXANDRE WHITE
Alex held the pulsing orb of Celestial Light close. Though the perfectly smooth sphere had its own sharp minty scent, there was the unmistakable scent of his lover, his partner, the Omega to his Alpha, the other half of his soul, his anam cara. Cinnamon... Oranges... The faintest hint of freshly cut grass... Jason. The were-lion tucked his sensitive nose into the gap between the orb and his chest, curling up into a ball himself, trying to scent that faintest trace of Jason that he had, for two years, missed so sorely.

There was despair deep in the were-lion's gut over not being remembered, hurt that not even the strong bond, the nigh-unbreakable, nigh-insurmountable memories and love that he and his fiance had shared was not enough to keep Alex firmly rooted in Jason's memories. Alex let loose a shuddering sigh and then breathed in another lungful of that delectable scent that for so long evaded him.

"Alex" the voice of the were-lion's Alpha shattered his reverie, and unfurled from his ball, keeping the orb just close enough to smell. Francois Bonaparte, advanced though as he was in his years, still looked quite healthy. Were-creatures often aged slower than their human counterparts, Alphas most of all. The Alpha was now back in his human form, though still dressed in his full battle regalia.

There was sympathy in his Alpha's voice, empathy in those eyes that still burned despite their years. "Alpha" said Alex, barely managing the words, barely able to force them out as anything more than a whisper. Francois shook his head sadly. No one as young as Alex should have to go through what he did, what he was going through right now. The alpha strode over to the young were-lion, footfalls lithe and graceful as the leopard that he was, before throwing his arms around the blond's slightly bulkier frame.

Compressed between the two men, the orb of Celestial light pulsed warmly, happily, even, to Alex's mind. The young were-lion threw one of his arms around the Alpha, accepting the embrace and the support that emanated from his superior. He was pack, and pack helped each other. "I can't promise everything will be alright" said Francois, pulling back and grasping Alex's shoulders firmly, "but we will give it our damned best try." The young were-lion nodded, slowly, and allowed the slightest of smiles to play upon his lips.

Francois patted Alex on the shoulder before letting Gabriel attend to his son. As the older were-lion rubbed Alex's back in sympathy, the Alpha walked past the young were-lion and headed straight for Ezeckial. "It's not often we see your kind on this plane, Fallen. I must say, it is an honour" said the Alpha, extending a hand to the Celestial. "I apologize, but the entire pack was put on high alert today, and all were-creature extended families have been told to remain in their respective communities. You may not know this yet, as I've been told you arrived on a plane not too long ago, but Vancouver has been the target for what we suspect to be large-scale organized attacks orchestrated by the Heavenly Host to sow terror into the populace."

"If our allies at the border are to be trusted, there is growing unrest in our neighbour to the south. We are preparing for invasion." Francois nodded out the door to where all the families in the neighbourhood were beginning to slowly stream out in a mass exodus. "However, considering the events that have taken place in this particular neighbourhood, we have reason to believe that the second Great Conflict has begun. Our friends on Everest have confirmed the arrival of multiple Celestials to this plane of existence. The Shadows have put into action operation Megiddo."

"You are correct in thinking that this place is no longer safe" said Francois, beginning to make for the door. "If you would like, I'll give the Whites a few moments to gather essential belongings, and we shall be on our way to la Citadelle de Ténèbres. For the time being we shall be safe there. Our allied Magi have spent the last three years strengthening its wards."

"Go on, Alex, get your stuff. We have to leave." Gabriel said as soon as Francois began to make for the door. "Your mother and I have prepared, but we weren't sure what you would want to take." The older were-lion reached out to take the orb of Celestial Light from Alex, but the object's radiance flared and the young were-lion growled at his father. "Okay, okay, calm down. I was just trying to help."

"Sorry..." said Alex, not knowing what had triggered such a strong protective instinct. He walked over to Jillian and gestured to Leon. He spoke softly, voice still not returned fully to him. "Make sure he's alright..." Gabriel nodded at Alex as the younger were-lion climbed the stairs before departing for the panic room where he was sure his beloved wife had remained, getting certain affairs in order.

Alex had very little that he needed to take with him. A few changes of clothing were essential, at least until the facility looms were functional. In the same secret compartment where the athame had been stowed, Alex pulled the silver chain that held the twin promise rings that used to represent the wedding that he and Jason had been planning so tirelessly. He held the necklace and its pendant heavy with memories to his chest, right next to the orb. The solidified Celestial Light pulsed quite happily when the memento was brought near it. Alex couldn't help but wonder what it was.

The older were-lion came upon his wife rapidly typing away at one of the consoles in the panic room. "What happened out there?" she asked, eyes riveted to the dim blue glow of the computer screen in front of her. The were-lioness was arming the entire neighbourhood to the teeth. Every trap, safety measure, and self-destruct device was being activated, or, if they proved to be potentially risky for any families that had yet to leave the area, set on a timer.

The Celestials would return, they were almost absolutely certain of that fact, but even if the winged bastards did, they would get nothing useful from the neighbourhood. The McCoys, though long gone, still had certain magical artifacts in their basement. Artifacts of such caliber made by such a skilled artificer as Nathan McCoy were objects that they could not afford Heaven getting its hands on. Everything will be destroyed if the angels made so much as the wrong move to even come close to the neighbourhood.

"You wouldn't believe it..."

"Trust me, I think I would."

"Jason. He's back. But he doesn't remember Alex." A soft, high-pitched keen was torn out of Alice by the words. No wonder she had felt the loss and rage through the bond that she'd thought had dissolved when Jason died. "He also killed one of them"

"Surely you mean banished..."

"No, dear. Killed."
 
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Ezeckial the Fallen​


Ezeckial was growing slowly more and more frustrated with these mortals. Could they really not understand what a steaming pile of shit they were in? They had just been confirmed to have possession of the one artifact known to man to kill an angel, had been targeted by an angel for extermination, summoned a legion of angels, had had said artifact stolen from them and they now wanted to rely on their mortal walls and seals to protect them? Could they not understand or comprehend the scope that the Heavenly Host took up? Were they perhaps not open to the fact that everything beneath the sky was within their domain? There was no place to hide, no place to protect yourself for long.

That is, of course, unless you had someone who knew how to hide from them. Someone who perhaps knew their weaknesses better than anyone. Someone who might have even been an angel once, could recite all of the other angel's off by name and face, or what went as a face for angelic standards. Someone who just might have been standing in the same room as them. They were instead relying on the prowess of some Alpha and the eyes of some drakken to protect them. At that moment in time, flushed in the face and practically trembling, Ezeckial felt like the most unused resource among them.

The limo pulled up on the outside, drawing the Fallen's attention towards it. What was this now? Someone else here for the party? They had humans, a Fallen, were-creatures, the Damphir, an Angel - where was Yahweh on this fine occasion? Turning full on towards the door again, the Fallen watched the Alpha step into the house in armor, brandishing swords and looking mighty for a mortal. In Ezeckial's eyes, he almost looked like he wanted to be there dressed up like that, as if hoping for an encounter with an Angel himself. The best he could get though was the Fallen, and though some might consider that a pour substitute, the Alpha apparently considered it an honor.

Unfamiliar with the gesture of a handshake, Ezeckial looked down at the extended hand before him and tried to decipher what it might mean. One thing was certain in his mind though - this Alpha was proud, very much so. The very act of extending his hand and offering a humble greeting must have been frustrating to him on at least some level. Had he ever actually been in the presence of a celestial before? Did he perhaps realize how silly his pride looked by comparison but wore it anyways, almost stubbornly? Too many questions, again, but the most prominent was this: What should I do with his hand?

At some length, the Fallen thought that perhaps he should grasp it and lifted up his hand slowly, taking a hold of the Alpha's and bringing his gaze back up to him. "I know far too little, Alpha," Ezeckial admitted. He was putting it lightly, but what else was he supposed to do? To say that he had not a single clue about anything this new world had to offer save for clothing and homes would certainly seem underwhelming. "I need to know everything. Everything."

As the Alpha made his way to the door, so too did Ezeckial. He left the others behind in favor for this new mortal because he felt at least a little bit confident that he could get some answers from him. Besides, the others would be coming with them. It wasn't as if this was the last time he'd see any of them. Stepping outside into the cool night air, Ezeckial paused a moment on the spot where his brother had been slain. It was surreal, to say the least, to have seen one of his own perish. Such a thing was practically unheard of since the creation of everything. To have been witness to it, to have understood just what it had meant... it was awe inspiring. The Fallen didn't stay long though. Stepping over the spot, he made his way down the patio steps and towards the limo. He wanted to be the first one in, but had no clue how to open the door. So, he instead stood outside of it and crossed his arms, facing the White's house and waiting for them to come out... and to open the door for him.

 
Leon the Spiteful

Leon felt the invisible force relinquish command of his body; the whole experience left him with an unsettled feeling, and he found himself flexing his fingers just to make sure he had control of them again. The Spiteful's nose involuntarily wrinkled at the familiar rotten-egg smell of the Pit. His gaze remained fixed on the void where the Dhampir had just disappeared, wondering if it could really be the same man he had met in a dive bar just the night before…

Leon blinked, as if broken from a trance, and whipped his head around to survey the scene; he quickly determined no one was injured, and relaxed a fraction. What the fuck just happened?!

He turned back towards the door just in time to glimpse the Alpha's hulking form moving swiftly towards him. The vampire sidestepped out of the leopard's way, narrowly missing its large, sweeping tail. He eyed the were-creature's weapons warily, with a pinch of jealously. He really should look into getting his hands on some cool weapons…

Silently, Leon slinked past the Alpha as he consoled Alex, seemingly materializing behind Jillian. He rested a hand on her shoulder, leaning in to whisper in her ear so as not to alarm her, "Are you okay?" Concerned chocolate eyes studied her face when she turned to look at him, his hand never leaving her shoulder.

Suddenly addressed by Gabriel, the Spiteful gave the older man his full attention. He nodded in compliance, expression softening as he watched Alex retreat up the stairs. He genuinely felt pain for the were-lion.

When Gabriel disappeared into the house, he turned his attention back to the Alpha, eavesdropping on the were-leopard's conversation with the Fallen. Megiddo? Hang on, he knew that word… Megiddo, Megiddo… His eyebrows raised and he shuddered. Wasn't that just his damn luck? He breaks out of Hell, only to have the world end!

Remaining close to Jillian, he watched as the Fallen exited the house to stand next the limousine parked outside. He wasn't willing to venture past the magical barriers just yet, lest something else decide to pop into existence and run a stake through his heart...
 
Jillian Aiya

With the disappearance of the man in black- the Dhampir- the tension in the White's foyer seemed to ease somewhat. While the Alpha and Alex's father consoled the prone young detective, Jillian tried to make some sort of sense out of what had happened. The enveloping feeling of all of this being outside her scope of experience, even outside her scope of imagination was ever-present, as it had been ever since she had first been let in on the secret shadow world around her. Her eyes stayed on the gently glowing orb that Alex held, her own hand moving to her chest in what looked like the nervous gesture of holding down one's racing heart. It was a nervous gesture, but nothing to do with palpitations. Jillian pressed her palm against where the sigil was etched onto her chest just behind the fabric of her borrowed shirt. She was a part of this now, and the learning curve was going to be steep. She had better get it together.

The gentle cool of Leon's hand on her shoulder and his voice so close to her ear made the young researcher start despite everything in the vampire's body language saying that it was not his intention to sneak up on her. She was just that lost in thought. Relief showed clear on Jillian's face. "I'm fine, yeah." Her own dark eyes met Leon's before darting away under the pretense of checking him over. She knew he was fine, had seen that he hadn't been injured, but it was as goo a way as any to avoid that intense look he was giving her. "What about you? Are you-" Gabriel cut her off, but the hand on her shoulder remained. Jillian was glad for it and inclined her head toward Gabriel. It wasn't clear if he meant to look after Leon or to look after Alex or even if any of that was being asked of her. But as her hand slipped from her chest to fall back to her side, she swore silently that she would look after them both. Her retreat and then hesitation upon returning nettled Jillian in a way she was too familiar with although the stakes had never been this high. She should have acted! She could have even- maybe- taken back the Athame if she had just done something.

"Leon? Are you okay?" She asked after Gabriel had gone after Alice and Alex went to collect his things. Looking around the foyer, she was aware quite suddenly that they were alone. Jillian swallowed hard and tried to tell herself that this was hardly the time to be... but she was just asking after a friend's well-being, wasn't she? She would have given anything for some belongings of her own to have to go to collect! "Oh!" That thought seemed to bring into perspective a whole new set of problems. "We're on the move again and I never got to.... I'm not going back to my place, am I? I don't even know where we're going this time." Following the vampire's gaze outside to the car and the two men standing beside it, she shook her head. Dark strands of hair brushed her cheeks. "Think they'd be willing to make a stop for me? What better time to max out my credit cards than Armageddon, right?" After all, clothing and some essentials were all Jillian needed. Something told the researcher that wherever this Citadelle de Tenebres was located, they would have better research materials than she could ever hope to come by through regular sources. Lightly, she rested her own hand on Leon's and tried to ignore the heat it brought to her face. "We had better get going if we want a good seat. I haven't ridden in a limo since my cousin's wedding." A shy smile and Jillian was out the door and walking to the Alpha and the gaunt stranger with the prettiest hair she had seen outside of a shampoo commercial.
 
ALEXANDRE WHITE
It hadn't taken very long for the limo's chauffer to step out of the driver's seat and open the door for the evidently-confused Fallen. Thankfully, Ezeckial could not read minds, for the normally mild-mannered were-polar bear was more than a little miffed. Sure, he was a chauffer for one of the richest men in the country, but it was all mostly for show. After all, Francois did not want to draw unnecessary attention to himself and all the operations he had going on under the radar of the public. Truthfully, the chauffer was more a bodyguard for the Alpha, making sure that the Pack's leader was never more than a couple feet away from help should he need it.

Nevertheless, he bowed gracefully to the fallen as he opened the door and gestured Ezeckial in. A few moments later and Alex, the orb of light clutched to his chest, along with all the other individuals in the White household came out the door. Alex regarded the limo with a raised eyebrow. He was not used to traveling in the lap of luxury, nor was he quite sure it was appropriate for the dire situation they were all in. He did, however, understand that it was, for all intents and purposes, a mere facade.

Perhaps the only reason that Francois had taken the limo was to keep appearances up, and Alex was sure that the vehicle itself was more than it seemed. Stepping inside the spacious car, the first thing that Alex noticed was that the windows were not actually windows. Where it seemed there was glass, was instead panels of material that the were-lion was sure kept bullets out. What else would it have been, after all? The second thing he noticed was the array of screens towards the front of the vehicle.

For the time being, the screens were all tuned in to the security cameras of the above-ground pack HQ in Francois' skyscraper. The HQ was eerily empty. Nothing stirred in the images save for the occasional piece of paper being displaced on a desk. "Alright. Get comfortable, all of you. This will be quite the long ride." The voice of the Alpha was projected out from speakers embedded in the limousine's walls, and one of the screens switched to a view of Francois' face.

The Alpha leaned over to the side, regarding the chauffer. "Monsieur Atiq, is la Citadelle online? Please pull up the feed if you can." Atiq grunted in response. The Citadelle would not be online for a few more minutes as the technicians got more power routed to the facility. They had a lot of energy production, but a lot of the generators, particularly the tidal ones, required a fair amount of time before they warmed up. "Gabriel, there is a laptop towards the front. If you can, please keep me up to date on the international situation."

"Monsieur Ezeckial, you should find another laptop towards the front. Alice, if you would be so kind as to help him use the machine so that he may find the information he seeks." The Alpha then regarded the rest of them. "As for you, young folk--" The Alpha said it with a chuckle. "Feel free to rest, Hell knows you need it."

It wasn't long after the car pulled out of Alex's neighbourhood that the feeds from the Citadelle came online. The passengers were treated to a mass influx of people into the complex. How the Pack had managed to keep such a volume of people out of the public eye baffled the young were-lion. Surely, there would be missing people reports to the roof of all the police stations the next day.

The young were-lion shook his head. He'd been told he would inherit the Pack leadership from Francois, a prospect that, in truth, terrified him. He was not even being groomed for the position. Perhaps if he was being trained to take on the role of the older were-leopard, all would be well. Nevertheless, that was not the biggest problem at the moment.

When Jillian relayed her request to stop to buy things to Alex, and the young were-lion told his father, who in turn told the Alpha, she was met with disappointment. The situation was far too critical to waste time. However, the Alpha reassured her that should the coast be cleared of any immediate threats, that there would be an opportunity to shop to her heart's content.

Alex took the chance to ask for a feed of the city's state, which Francois praised. Even the old Alpha had very nearly forgotten about the other situation on their hands. There were definitely fewer plumes of smoke rising from the city, at least according to the feed they were receiving from a drone giving them an aerial view of Vancouver. However, there were still thick black columns of soot rising from where the fires had spread almost uncontrollably.

The young were-lion noticed the Alpha frown. He knew as well as Alex that they were probably going to have to start bringing mages in to control the more serious blazes. Sure, the fires were a scare tactic by the increasingly militant Heavenly Host, but it would not do if half the city burnt down before the battle truly began.

"Jillian..." whispered Alex, suddenly remembering what they had been up to earlier in the day before all the insanity ensued. "Jillian, do you still have those documents from Vincent's home?"
 
Leon the Spiteful

Replying to Jillian's inquiry, the vampire shot her a smirk. "Aside from nearly getting obliterated by Heaven's equivalent of Big Bird? I'm just peachy." He tossed his head back to laugh at her comment about credit cards. "I don't see why not! If we're going down, we should at least go down in style. Think I could pull off a mink fur coat with this complexion?" He held out his arms at his sides and posed, giving her a joking wink.

It was the vampire's turn to be surprised as he felt the young woman's hand brush his; he blinked, quickly masking the reaction. He took the opportunity to lace his slender fingers in hers. Noting with relish the cute blush that sprang to her cheeks, he gently pulled her along, leading her outside to the waiting limousine. He relinquished his hold on her hand and slid into the vehicle, situating himself between the already seated were-lion and Jillian. Heeding the Alpha's advice, he sprawled out across the limo's plush seats, taking up far too much area for his lanky frame and invading the other two passengers' personal space in the process. He grinned, putting his arms across the back of the seat and resting them over Alex's and Jillian's shoulders. "Road trip!"

The smile slowly faded from the Spiteful's lips as he watched the flashing screens intently, brown eyes flicking between each to analyze all the goings-on. He was impressed by the multitude of people filing into the Pack's so-called Citadelle. His gaze rested upon one monitor showing the fires still raging across the city. He felt anger once again swelling within his chest at the sight. Not that he had needed any more reason to despise the forces of Heaven, but attacking innocent people and destroying their livelihoods really pissed him off. How could anyone believe that there was a shred of good in that fanatical organization?

Leon listened to Alex's whispered question to Jillian, peeking over at her to see how she would respond. He had completely forgotten about their initial mission to Vincent Moore's residence; it felt like it had occurred a lifetime in the past.
 
Jillian Aiya

The idea of a shopping spree and Leon's clowning were enough to send Jillian into a brief fit of laughter. She gave herself over to it, letting it temporarily cloud out all the worried they had ahead of them and the trials they had already endured. It was cleansing and she was glad for it.

While they started toward the car the entwining of cool fingers between her own was enough to steal her breath and raise heat in her cheeks that she knew would be apparent to anyone and everyone watching. Even so, she didn't let go and allowed herself to be led to the waiting limo while simultaneously wishing the trip were over already and that they might somehow take a longer path through the small and neatly manicured lawn. When they were settled inside, Jillian herself perhaps not quite as comfortably as the vampire beside her though there was plenty of room to spread out, Jillian made her request.

And was promptly denied. She understood, of course, and despite the temporary appeal decided against pouting given the circumstances. These people had things to do, lives to protect and very possibly humanity to save. A shopping trip seemed a little frivolous in the face of all that even if the thought of having to wear the same underwear for much longer made her feel depressed in a way. Hopefully wherever they were headed had laundry facilities. Turning her attention to the monitors in order to distract herself from her small mundane worries, she breathed in a small gasp as their views suddenly swarmed with people.

There were so many, all seeming to appear from nowhere at all to begin entering the Citadel, awakening it to ready it for occupation and command of the forces that would fight for humanity. The screen adjacent was a view from a traffic camera that showed a building, Jillian thought maybe a bank, on fire. The magnitude of all of this activity teased at the edges of Jillian's mind for what might have been the first time. This went beyond murders and conspiracy, beyond secrets kept from civilization at large. This was the no-kidding, totally-not-a-joke End of Days playing out right here in her own back yard. It was easy to say the words without really thinking about them: Armageddon, Apocalypse, End of the World; they had been a worldwide joke for so long, something only fanatics believed in until the ranks of fanatics grew. And now it was really happening. Extinction.

There was a gasping panting going on in the quiet interior of the limo that took Jillian's attention from the flickering views before her and had her looking for its source before coming to the realization that it was herself on the verge of a panic attack. She was just about to put her head between her knees when Alex's whispered question provided just the right distraction. One shuddering inhalation of breath and she was alright to speak. "Yeah, I've got it here."

She lifted the plaid shirt of Leon's she had borrowed, exposing her stomach as she retrieved the prize from behind her back where it was shoved into the waistband of her jeans both for safe keeping and to hide it along the line of her back. The manilla envelope had clearly seen better days. Now wrinkled and smudged with soot, it looked on the verge of giving up its shape altogether. The researcher undid the waxed string that held the envelope closed with a great degree of reverence. This and the journal in her purse were all that remained of her mentor.

When Jillian pulled out the contents, reams of paper containing copies of articles, photographs, notes both typed and hand-written, a few small bits of clipped newsprint fluttered to the floor of the limo. She made a small noise and retrieved them, her expression even more surprised when she read the one on top. There was a black-and-white photo of a handsome young man smiling on the verge of laughter above a column of text. She had seem him before on the fridge in Alice's kitchen. The article was an obituary. "Oh Alex..." She breathed, expression pained and pitying. A glance through the others showed information on all three of them. But what on earth could it mean? Why would Vincent keep things like this? She recognized Leon with a younger girl bearing a striking resemblance on his shoulders and didn't get a chance to glance at the headline before handing it to him. This seemed like an invasion of her companions' privacy, to read about them or their loved ones without their permission even if this was all apparently publicly published.

There were two articles featuring herself, a graduation announcement and an article about her thesis...
 
ALEXANDRE WHITE
Seeing the obituary, Alex made a pained, pitiful, disgruntled sound. He was taken aback, but it only took a few moments before the tears began to flow freely as they always did whenever he was exposed to reminders of Jason's death. Even if he did know now that his lover was still alive, still breathing, and seemingly far more powerful than he had ever been before. The were-lion scrunched his face up, grimacing. He had made it a point not to read this obituary, though there were facts that could not be ignored.

Foremost of those facts was that Vincent Moore had somehow gathered information on the three of them, and he would not have been surprised if there was information on David Stark as well, prior to ever even meeting them. Alex shuddered, wondering what it all meant, but regardless, he read the obituary, hands clutching the newspaper turning whiter and whiter at the knuckles as fury began to build within him. None of them had had any input on Jason's obituary. One of the Irishman's friends merely had the bright idea of getting one commissioned. As a result, it was impersonal, and above all, the young were-lion's name was not mentioned even once.

He crumpled the clipping in his hand, and it was at that moment that he realized there was something different about it. It was heavier than normal newspaper. It was thicker. The colour was a little bit off. It almost seemed as though someone -- Vincent Moore in this case -- had photocopied the newspaper clippings, printed them out, and spent some inane amount of time making it seem like actual newspaper. The were-lion, despite his anger, decided to investigate. He flipped the clipping over and frowned at the curiosity that then jumped out at him.

There was no back to the newspaper clipping. It seemed to be normal A4 paper, only thicker. There was however, one word scrawled onto it in familiar handwriting. "AZRAEL." was the word. Alex frowned and fished out another article on him. This one had been about him graduating with flying honours. It was the same deal. "AZRAEL." An article about his and David's first high-profile case together. "AZRAEL." He shivered, knowing the name full well from what Jason had told him. Azrael was Heaven's most powerful archmagus, and there was only one explanation that Alex could think of why his name was written on every article.

Azrael was dangerous. It was a warning. That was the only possible answer. The were-lion took a deep breath and looked at Leon and Jillian. "Whatever you're reading... flip it over" he said as he gently fished the manila folder from out of her hands. He riffled through the documents within. There were a lot of things written on the arcane that Alex couldn't puzzle out. That had been Jason's job in their relationship. He himself was never big on the magic stuff. He wanted to know what the meaning of the clippings was. Wanted to find a clue. Anything.

There was one explanation for why Moore had newspaper clippings on all of the people who had invariably become intimately involved with the investigation of his death. He knew what was coming. He knew who was coming. He knew. He knew everything. The thought scared Alex. It was impossible to think that a professor, a self-proclaimed atheist would be able to see into the future. It was that, or a far scarier alternative. They had all been manipulated into their current positions. The terrifying question, now, was the one question pertaining to the identity of the entity that was moving the pieces.

It was then that Alex's fingers felt something different. Vellum. The were-lion fished it out of the folder and crinkled his nose at the strong metallic odour that then filled the interior of the limousine. On the back of the vellum was a large sigil the likes of which Alex had never seen before. It was composed of three large circles in a diagonal across the paper, each of them having ten other concentric circles within them. From what he knew of magic, that could only have meant that the spell was immensely intricate.

He looked at Jillian for a moment, then turned the vellum over. There was writing in blood, in a language he didn't recognize. It was Irish. He handed it over to the woman, hoping that maybe she could read it.
 
Leon the Spiteful

Leon watched as the papers slipped free from Jillian's grasp, his eyes roving over their contents with superhuman speed. He wasn't able to analyze all the data he'd managed to collect in the single glance before Jillian interrupted, handing him a picture of himself with a younger woman sitting on his shoulders. He held the worn newspaper clipping between his thumb and index finger, the faded, dirty gray paper nearly blending in with his skin. He stared at the edge of the page as it sat on his hand, the realization of the absurdity of his existence weighing down on him for but an instant.

His eyes rather laboriously moved up to gaze at the printed photograph. He didn't recognize the girl, but judging by Uriel's taunting, she must have been his sister. He studied her face closely, finding that it very much resembled his; dark, thick eyebrows on smooth features, a rounded nose, small brown eyes crinkled at their corners, and a wide smile planted on her lips. He found it strangely comforting that, in this depiction, they both had gray skin.

The photo appeared to be the two of them at a beach. His eyes followed the wisps of her hair being blown by an invisible wind, fixated on the printed pixels. The smell of saltwater pricked his nostrils, and an overwhelming feeling of déjà vu crashed down on him; he sucked in a breath, his lungs feeling like the wind had been knocked out of them. Finally, his eyes slipped down to read the text printed below the photo.

... At least, he tried to; it was in Arabic. His eyebrows knitted together, frustration washing over him in dissatisfaction. He placed the clipping in his lap, planning to revisit it, and reached over to retrieve several other documents from Jillian's grasp. He had instantly recognized several of the headlines. Some of the stories were taken from newspapers, but most were printed articles from national news websites.

The most recent story told of the unsolved homicide of a prominent Evangelical Christian faith leader in a town right outside Vancouver, situated near the U.S.-Canadian border. The man was killed in a brutal attack in his own community center; there were no witnesses to the crime, and no suspects.

The second-most recent article reported - in that cold, unbiased manner of a news reporter - on the simultaneous deaths of an entire congregation of people during midnight mass in Salem, Oregon. No witnesses, no suspects... No survivors.

A third recounted the savage slaying of a family of devout (and wealthy) Christians at their private church in St. George, Utah.

A fourth rash of murders took place in a small town in Idaho. A fifth in Wells, Nevada. A sixth in a small town in southern California. He held a total of eleven stories, each seemingly more disturbing than the last. All of the murders had one thing in common: The victims had been drained of their blood.

The oldest story in the lot seemed to have been carefully worded, yet thoroughly written; it was, after all, the largest and most vicious of all the accounts of attacks that the Spiteful held in his fingertips: The massacre of Jerome, Arizona. A town with a population of about 338 was completely decimated. His gaze hardened as his eyes swept over the printed words, jaw clenching. The article included the full names and ages of each victim, some with photos next to them; the entire list was four pages long. He instantly located a name, his free hand balling into a tight fist. A soft, shy face with dark eyes and equally dark hair peered back at him; the visage of Jillian Aiya.

The vampire rearranged the articles chronologically, his face expressionless as he did so, and found that his theory was proven correct; Vincent Moore had tracked him from the beginning.

At Alex's request, Leon set aside the gruesome chronicle and picked up the Arabic obituary - his obituary, it would seem - from his lap, flipping if over to reveal the same word that was written haphazardly across the other documents. He looked from Alex to Jillian and back, raising an eyebrow. "Who's "Azrael"?"
 
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Jillian Aiya

She saw it before either one of them had; as Alex's and Leon's eyes were focused on the words printed on the right sides of the papers they held, Jillian's rested only on Vincent's neat scrawl on the backs of each. AZRAEL AZRAEL AZRAEL. Each one like a slap in the face for her gamble and possible betrayal. And speaking of the angel who had offered her power in a time of direst need and linked the two of them so intimately that he had access to her thoughts- really, how gullible could you be, Aiya?- there was nothing now but silence in her mind. No presence, no whisper of any consciousness but her own. Heaven must still be in quite the uproar over what had just gone down on the front lawn. Jillian bit her lip, glancing down at the articles pertaining to herself.

The first was normal enough, certainly not at all as wrenching or as long as some of the articles the others held. It was just a small graduation announcement detailing her field of study and her honors as well as a mention of her thesis paper and love from relatives below a black and white photo of Jillian smiling front beneath her graduation cap. The second, the article about the paper she had written, was much more incendiary. It was an American publication, the Phoenix Sun Times, calling her a sympathizer for the militant Islamists who must be responsible for the complete massacre of one small Arizona town. Her thesis paper had been a study of the unknown language found scrawled on walls and in one case, the ceiling, around the town. Her study found that the scribbles weren't simply gibberish, but a true language with repeating themes and that its only tie to Arabic was the fact that it actually seemed to predate it. If someone was trying to pin this mass murder on the Muslims, they overshot the foundation of Islam itself by several thousand years. The war-mongering fear-pandering press hadn't much liked that, even calling her brief tribute to each of the victims a gloating mockery of a memorial. Secularist, Christian, Atheist; Jillian didn't care about the religious views of the townspeople, only that their lives were quickly and horribly ended in a way that no human should have to suffer.

Alex roused her from her thoughts as she finished skimming the article that she remembered all too well with his request to turn the scraps of paper over. She knew what she would find and didn't bother; she just gave up the envelope and watched Leon's face as he made the discovery. Would he hate her if he knew? While Alex dug around in the envelope, she answered as best she could. "Azrael is an angel. My background isn't in religion, so I don't know much... or even why Vincent would think that he might be a link between us all. I'll have to res- Oh! What's this? It smells... Oh my goodness Alex, is that blood?"

Jillian took the sheet of vellum, carefully holding it between thumb and forefinger at the corners to avoid touching the rust-colored writing. Really, wasn't writing in blood just a little over the top? She stopped short of wondering where the blood came from. After getting past the initial shock and distaste, she studied that paper more carefully: it was traditional goat vellum, old but incredibly well preserved, and the writing instrument was clearly a crow quill. Someone made sure that all of the materials had been at one point living. Jillian had to suppress a shudder at the thought.

"It's old Gaelic," she said quietly, dark eyes scanning the rust-colored script and translating as she read. And then re-read as the color drained from her face. "This is... this is spell theory for one that does triple-duty. The writer calls it 'Transference' and it's some crazy powerful stuff." Jillian looked back and forth between the Leon and Alex. "I mean raising the dead, immortality, and... sacrificing a celestial being to make another one more powerful." she shook her head, speechless over the implications...and then flipped the page. Drawn there was an intricate sigil, the ink in the same rust color of the script on the other side though not as weathered. The neat writing was unmistakably Vincent's. He had actually designed a sigil to match the theory on the opposite side. This thing, this spell composed of once-living materials and meant to hold such sway over the powers of life and death all but pulsed in her vision. She dropped the page as if it had burned her.

Just what did it mean that Vincent did this, included it in with all the information on all of them, linking them with the angel with whom she had a secret pact? The sigil burned into her chest made the area feel heavy, and it was hard to breathe. When would there be answers to these questions? She just wanted to sit someplace quiet with books and just... think all of this through. She wanted a shower and clean clothes and a cup of coffee. Just... something normal. Or something as close to normal as you can get inside a secret shapeshifter base on the cusp of the apocalypse.
 
ALEXANDRE WHITE
Azrael blinked. His name invoked so many times in the scrawl of Vincent was a powerful attractor. It didn't help that he had mere moments ago been summoned before Metatron. He had offered his advice, as he often did, about what had happened in the mortal world. The Dhampir had done well. The demonstration of the Athame's still-destructive power after innumerable years had shaken the Heavenly Host to its core. Nevertheless, now he was safely ensconced in his study at the edge of creation, and the invocation of his name was calling him to his pact-mate.

He had been about to speak to her mind when the document had been turned over to her. Transference. The word burned in his mind. It was something that should never have been possible. Neither he nor Pursan nor the Master had ever thought that anyone would be hare-brained enough to try. When they sealed away the Fires so that they would not be abused by Elohim, they had crafted Magic to allow those that had the gift to use the fires but in a controlled manner.

They had purposefully left no limit on what magic could do, but they had not restricted the cost either. The archmagus did not know who had commissioned the research, and that surprising lack of knowledge was disturbing. If it had been Heaven, then evidently they wanted the Athame not because they wanted to destroy it, but because they wanted to use it to sacrifice a celestial for the 'Transference.' If it had been Hell, then Lucifer was acting in ways beyond which he and Pursan had been prepared.

Regardless, this new development threw a wrench in the intricate plans that the archmagus and his mate had laid over the past millennia. The other Dhampir needed to be awakened, and soon.

With alarm and urgency, the archmagus spoke to his charge. "Jillian. This means that there are things that are outside my power to know. You must find where they mean to perform this ritual at all costs. If Yahweh gets any more powerful, well, the Eternals help us all."

He closed off his side of the emotional bond. He did not need the mortal to feel the anxiety that he felt. The implications were too great. If it had indeed been Heaven that commissioned the research, then they had been lying to him about the Athame, and they were suspicious of his motives.

Quickly he dashed to the stairwell into oblivion and shook the mirror at the end of that dark hallway of nothingness. "Pursan! Pursan answer me!"

---

"Raising the dead?" whispered Alex, his voice small and frankly afraid. The other parts of the spell meant very little to him. His mind was still transfixed on Jason. Especially now that he had just read the obituary that had ignored his importance in the young druid's life. A small part of the were-lion latched on to that first purpose of the Transference. Fate be damned, if there was a way to return his beloved to the land of the living, he would do it, regardless of the cost.

He looked meaningfully at Jillian, though he almost instantly retracted his gaze. For some reason the blond knew that they would not understand, nor would they let him do what was necessary to return his beloved to his side should that time come. The were-lion filed away the information in the back of his mind. He would look into it further at a later time. There had to be a way to perform the spell himself. Perhaps when David finally got out of hospital, he could teach the were-lion.

For the moment, the young lieutenant-alpha bounced his leg on the floor of the limousine, trying to process the implications of all the information that Vincent seemed to have gathered on the three of them. Were they fated to fall together as a team to do whatever it was that was asked of them? Or had they been manipulated together so that they could carry out some master plan of Lucifer's? The blond bristled at the thought of being someone else's pawn, even if that someone else was the only creature in the celestial sphere capable of directly challenging YHWH.

"Why us?" he asked the two others. As far as he could tell, there was no one else mentioned in the documents, other than Jason, of course. "What does this mean? What is it supposed to tell us?" The detective didn't understand. He was good at solving crimes and finding criminals. These word games and plays of power were beyond him.

The obituary had brought tears to his eyes, and as a result, the paper was slightly wet. A big droplet stained the lower part of the L in "AZRAEL." There was something strange about the way the paper had been wet, however. One corner of the droplet seemed to have soaked into the clipping in a straight line.

There was no possible way that could have been natural. The were-lion sniffed the paper and got the slightest whiff of candle-wax. Tawny brown eyes widened in excitement. Clues upon clues upon clues. This was what he lived for, and if it meant that he got closer to seeing his beloved by his side again, then by god he was going to get to the bottom of the mystery at hand.

Normally, the detective would never have done what he was about to do, but in a limo without proper evidence-handling tools, with perhaps the most significant crime in living history, he could not wait. The were-lion spat on the piece of paper, and lo and behold, two symbols and the letter "J" appeared where the spit refused to soak through the impossibly thin veneer of wax.

Before he could celebrate, the Alpha cleared his throat. He had just gotten off the phone, it seemed. "We're being invaded. Thunder Bay has fallen."
 
Leon the Spiteful

Leon bristled at Jillian's mention of the word "angel". "If those birdbrains are involved, it can't be good...".

As soon as she had remarked about blood on the vellum, his keen nose picked up a faint metallic scent. After another sniff, his nose wrinkled. "Eck, it's sheep's blood."

The vampire listened carefully to the young woman's words, considering the idea of something even more powerful than the celestial beings he'd already encountered. "I hope whatever was created from that," he pointed at the crusty sigil, "is on our side."

Leon discreetly raised an eyebrow at Alex, easily picking up his whispered words. He kept his thoughts to himself, though, figuring Alex deserved some hope for a change. Instead, he replied to the detective's questions. "All I can deduce from this is that we should find this Azrael guy. It's clear Moore believed that he has some sort connection to us, even though none of us have ever heard of him. When we're not fleeing for our lives, maybe we can take a moment to look into it, yeah?" He tossed a mild smirk at Jillian, in attempt to lift her spirits.

The Spiteful settled back into his comfortable seat, wracking his brain for anything that might help them solve the mystery in front of them. The only celestial beings he'd ever interacted with, not counting that rat bastard Uriel and the now crispy-fried chicken that showed up on the Whites' doorstep, were all Fallen. And those interactions were always vague and overly complicated, the Fallens' words twisted into riddles that were beyond the vampire's ability to comprehend. He wondered briefly if that was a side effect of immortals communicating on the mortal plane, but swiftly set aside the musing for another time, when the apocalypse wasn't looming over their heads.

He supposed they could attempt to commune with Leviathan, the Fallen who was in charge of the particular layer of Hell to which he'd been banished, to get some answers, but frankly he'd rather swallow a glass of nails than even think about that place again... He sighed, eyes affixed to the seat in front of him. A dreadful feeling of hopelessness seeped into the back of his mind, his brow furrowing in concern and annoyance. He hated feeling powerless, almost as much as he hated feeling hungry.

At the thought of the Pit, an idea occurred to him: Could the being that was created from sacrificing a celestial be that black-robed figure that stole the Athame? It made sense; only and incredibly powerful creature could traverse Hell and Earth with such ease.

Before he could share his thoughts with Alex and Jillian, the Alpha's proclamation commanded his attention. He looked back to Alex for the appropriate reaction. "What's 'Thunder Bay?' Who's invading, Heaven? ... Should we be panicking?"
 
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