Reluctant Redemption

Spoiler Tags: Devil Girl, Angel Girl, Monster Girl, Reluctance, First Time, Corruption, Lesbian, Transformation, Demon, Violence

*****

The snow fell from the sky. Pale white flakes kissing my ruby cheeks and ivory horns before turning into water that trickled down my crimson skin. They were close, I could taste the tang of their presence on the air as I kicked open the rotting door of a once holy cathedral. I shuddered at the thought, more at ease with its current broken shell than any previous opulence.

"This is it Zeke. Here is where I make my stand," I said to the empty church, my words meant for ears of the dead, insane with the impossible hope that an answer would spring from lips long since silenced.

Alone. I am utterly and inevitably alone. Way to go Laylo.

The beast that lived in my soul and kept my heart beating with familiar fire loved the overwhelming odds of the desperate situation. It lived to bare its fangs to the universe, shouting into the void that, "I AM ALIVE!"

A greater part of me, the part that'd lived as prey for so many miles, was tired, hungry, and cold. Having reached the end of my strength so many leagues ago.

"Funny it should be here. I'm pretty sure my tether blade tasted blood for the first time not one hundred yards from this spot, sinking into the chest of a young angel. He seemed fresh to the frontlines, golden wings outstretched in agony as I gave him a glorious death. I wonder sometimes, Zeke, if they hate us for what we do to them? Our way is not their way. Both societies so different that we grossly misinterpret the others interactions. I'm pretty sure this disconnect is what led to the war. Little good it does us now, the vanquished in this mutually destructive conflict. Would we, the Davonic act the same, if we knew then what I know now? I guess it doesn't really matter... But still I wonder..." I muttered as sleep consumed me in her black clutches, taking my unresisting mind into the darkness.

My forehead lolled into a hard metal breastplate, bringing me halfway out of my exhausted sleep. The woman who'd picked me up barked orders I couldn't understand through the haze blanketing my mind but my eyes still worked, half lidded though they were.

And what a visual feast it was.

The shining light of her halo reflected off the stained glass windows, coloring her soft face with bright pastels shadows. Her features were determined, and she hoisted me more securely into her arms without visible effort. She was lovely to the point that I hated her on sight, wishing I still held my tether dagger, so I could drag her screaming into the greatest death I'd ever given. Her golden brunette hair was braided securely. Swinging between her wings as she carried me from this place of death and ruin.

I could do nothing but die this sad cold death of malnourishment.

I have to do something. My very nature allowing nothing less.

Mustering my remaining strength, I opened my mouth and tried to savage her arm with my fangs; only to clang off of her silvery armor, a failure as I was in so many things recently.

Oh well. At least I tried and will die with a witness. Who knows, maybe she'll see fit to grant me death herself? Wouldn't that be grand to be cared for by someone like her...

My head rolled away from the woman, my neck losing all strength as I fell back into a restful sleep, safe in the arms of the enemy who'd relentlessly exterminated my people.

Unknown time passed.

Surprisingly I wasn't killed; waking to a painful existence of aches and uncomfortableness.

This both confused and angered me.

Am I so loathsome to them that they refuse to give me my death? I'll show them how worthy I am.

Unfortunately my body was not yet up to the task, my attempt at rising producing nothing more than a rustle of the cream comforter I was tucked under, muscles twitching feebly. The room smelled of burning vanilla, presumably from the candles illuminating the room from various places. Gritting my teeth, I tried once more to get out of the bed, a groan slipping from my lips after my overworked muscles refused to leverage me from my comfy prison. My noise must have alerted my capture because shortly after the attempt to move, the door to the room opened and the armored woman who carried me away from my would-be grave stepped through. She was still a vision of loveliness, tall with graceful limbs enfolded in a cotton blouse. Her shining copper wings looking impossibly soft as they drifted behind her. She graced me with a smile the made me want to rip out her spine and feed it to her. A bowl with steaming broth sat atop a tray that she set on the nightstand, nudging aside a hologram of what looked to be her and her mother. In the motes of stationary light my angel was standing at attention, a serious look on her face dressed in a suit of armor that looked entirely too large for her. Her mother looked on with pride while clutching the younger angel close, her eyes ringed with scowling wrinkles.

She reached out to take my temperature and I tried to jerk my head away, but only managed a barely noticeable tensing of my neck. She frowned at whatever she felt and reached for the spoon, her wings pulled tight, flat on her back, fluttering with concealed concern. The broth smelled delicious but I refused to open my mouth for her.

If she would deny me my death, then I see no need to cooperate with whatever inane plan she has. I don't even think I want to kill her anymore, that's how mad I am.

The twitching in my hand proved that to be a lie, every part of my being aching to sink my claws into her lovely form and write her name into my eternity. Unfortunately, the angel had her own ways around my defiance. She gave me a wry smile.

"You are weak," she said and I bristled. "And how will you be able to kill me if you don't regain your strength. The first step is getting some food into you. How long has it been since you have eaten?"

How dare she! I am a decorated scout, not some mewling hatchling to be coddled.

Words still eluded me however, so I just growled my unhappiness at her. Or, I tried to. It came out more like a plaintive whine from a wounded animal and made my cheeks blush. I continued to defiantly hold my mouth closed.

"Are you sure you don't want any broth?" she asked, wafting the delicious smelling liquid in front of my nose, making my stomach growl. "I guess there's no help for it." She took a small dagger from herr belt, sized more for a child than a warrior of her stature.

Where's she going with this?

Like all Davonic's I was innately curious and she drew me in with her not-so-subtle performance.

Is she finally going to kill me? Please say it's true.

My eyes were locked onto the knife as she brought the blade to rest against her palm.

No! What is she doing?! Why would she show such weakness by doing that? If she wanted pain, surely she has a subordinate she could command. Self-harm is the worst of all crimes. If she asked I would gladly...

Suddenly her game became very clear, as the knife parted her pale flesh, creamy yellow blood trickling out of the shallow wound to saturate the air with its familiar, alluring scent. My eyes held my naked defiance as she forced me to look away. Without me consciously willing it, my mouth fell open, acquiescing to her care, showing her my weakness with my unwillingness to indulge her own. There was no way I would ever be willing to let this beautiful creature harm herself if I could help it. I missed her gentle smile as she steadily spooned the warm broth into my body. The food burned strangely going down my throat, sitting uncomfortably in my gut.

Probably some foreign seasoning to which I am not yet accustomed.

Warmth and weariness snuck up on me and I could no longer keep my eyes open. There was a foreign pressure on my lips. Words drifted in my head, heard but not understood, following me into the dark.

"You will eventually be mine. I will not let you cross through the pearly gates with your brethren, or my name isn't Jenna."

When next I woke, my strength had returned enough so that I could at least turn my head, no longer a total invalid. I relaxed into the bed, still frustrated by my weakness. I tested my limbs and found that I could move again. Albeit with the same alacrity as a one winged mermalan drake.

And if I can move. I can fight.

A grim smile stretched my cheeks as I forced my aching limbs to get off the bed, positioning myself off to the side behind the door, leaning my weight against the wall. A thin strip of cloth provided unnecessary and unusual modesty, wrapped as it was around my small breasts. Force of will was the only thing keeping me propped up as I waited for my angel to return. She didn't disappoint, freezing in the doorway as she stared at my empty bed, wondering about my disappearance.

Just a little further...

The moment her foot crossed the threshold I leaped on her with all the fury my limbs possessed; which was not much. Essentially my entire ambush consisted of falling on her with my claws outstretched. She reacted like any trained warrior would, by clocking me in the chin with her elbow, grabbing my arm and throwing me over her shoulder onto my back. The breath wheezed out of my lungs, accompanying the rush of blood to my head, furthering my infatuation with my angel. Endorphins and other happy-time chemicals danced through my synapses as she finally found me worthy enough to hurt. She covered her mouth in remorse, obviously surprised at the events and dashing my short-lived hope that she'd decided to kill me. After the shock faded she graced me with a wry smile, crossing her arms beneath her breasts, her shaking wings the only indication of any lingering unease.

"Let's get you back into bed," she whispered gently in my ear as she crouched down and lifted me into her arms.

No. It wasn't supposed to go like that. Stupid body!

"You need to regain your strength before you'll have a chance to succeed at ravaging me."

"Why?" I ground out, my voice thin but audible.

"Why what? Why am I tending to you? Why should Jenna, an warrior of renown and beauty that the bards still sing tales of her exploits, care for a gutter demon?" she asked with an jokingly sarcastic tone. Releasing her false grandstanding, she set me down on the bed and I nodded, serious as sin.

Soft amber eyes locking onto my slit orange ones. "Because I care about you, and think it would be a shame for you to perish." She read my answering glare and chuckled dryly. "I understand that's not the way of your people but, if given time, I think I might be able to get you to see things my way. Drink," she said offering me a glass of water.

My glare only intensified, which only made her laugh harder as she tucked me in. My thirst got the best of me and I took it from her with a shaky hand, downing it in a single string of gulps. It burned going down, much like the broth before it. Coughing, I was concerned that my prolonged exposure to subzero air had harmed my lungs. I returned to glaring at Jenna hostilely, ashamed she'd once more seen a display of my weakness.

"You don't like it, get stronger and do something about it," she said, my strength fading as sleep overtook me once more.

I was startled awake by a presence looming over me in bed. My angel's face swung into focus as she leaned down, touching our noses together.

"I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't, and I know you don't understand... But I can't resist any longer," she confessed, nuzzling me as she brought our lips together. The kiss was the first I'd ever experienced, sending foreign sensation rushing through mouth and spreading through my body. Something in my gut stirred as I struggled to compartmentalize and analyze the feelings.

This isn't right. I don't like how strange this is.

My lips continued to tingle as she worked her mouth against mine, the sensations growing more potent yet no more understandable. It reminded me a little of the rush I got when triumphing in a sparring match as a young hatchling but concentrated, more intense. She withdrew both too soon and far too late, my heart hammered in my chest as she graced me with a small smile. I tried to head-butt her on instinct, but only managed to press my head against her breasts.

"Kill you," I said thickly. My lips felt hot and swollen. Something alien stirred in my deepest places and I found I couldn't look directly at her. She glanced at something above my head, a gorgeous smile pulling her cheeks up as she leant down and planted a kiss onto each of my horns.

"I know you will honey. Just gotta get that strength up first. And speaking of which." She dangled a piece of smoked jerky in front of my face and I immediately started salivating; my stomach also decided to make its presence known, announcing its emptiness with a consuming fierceness. With a hand that shook with weakness, I reached slowly for it only to have Jenna pull it out of reach. She had a look I would later associate with lust in her eyes as she sultrily asked me to open wide. My hunger prevented me from obstinately refusing the sustenance, and I reluctantly opened my mouth for her. Her eyes glittered with heat as she delicately laid the piece of meat onto my tongue. Trying to gnash her with my fangs for what I took to be mockery, I only managed to close my lips around her finger, inadvertently sucking on it for a moment as I focused on chewing the delicious meat. Eyes dripping with aroused heat followed my every move as Jenna watched me swallowed. She chased each piece of jerky with a sip of the burning water, payment for each subsequent piece of delicious meat.

She shuddered while I tilted my head to the side, looking for any additional fare. Pausing, she stared at something above my head for a moment, and odd look of mixed happiness and regret crossed her face as she retreated from the room, calling back over her shoulder.

"I'm gonna go make you a sandwich. I'll be right back."

After the sandwich she pulled a chair up next to the bed and began to tell me the tale of how her people had discovered ours, crossing the burning sea and establishing a settlement that'd expanded into a town. The town grew larger and, while not as pronounced as a demon's, the angels seemed to also have a fair amount of curiosity as they began to explore this new continent. These pilgrims were the first to encounter the native demons. At first there was no conflict, the demon's uncaring of the angels whose society didn't operate in a manner we could understand.

"We attempted to trade with the demon's and everything seemed to be going fine. Until a young demon found herself attracted to a young angel, a merchant by the name of Wilbert. She showed this attraction by sinking a dagger into his gut and filleting him like a fish. We were shocked and outraged by this affair, retreating into our homes and closing our doors but interest among the demons spread like wildfire. Something about the energy we give off triggers something in demons and we began to be regularly assaulted and beaten. Unable to watch our loved ones get tortured, we fought back."

This was the first thing she'd said that made any sense in me. Conflict was the natural order of the world.

"What followed was the most self destructive culture clash I could imagine. See, angels are born to nurture and protect. To love and provide for the our loved ones, we are willing to do anything we can to make someone happy."

Grimacing I sneered at such alien values.

Nurture? Protect? Ugh.

"See the angels possessed extreme technological superiority and often managed to capture the combative demons without much difficulty. No, the difficulties, those came later," she said in a haunted voice. "As we interacted with your captured people we began to care about what they wanted. See, we desired them to be happy and when we asked them what that was do you know what they said?" she asked softly.

"Why are you telling me this? Why don't you just kill me? Am I so unworthy?" I asked, frustrating spilling forth, making me voice my thoughts.

"Exactly," she said, as if that explained everything. "Captured or killed in battle, either way the demon's ended up dead. Encounters grew scarce and I feared we, in our benevolence, had performed a racial genocide heretofore unseen by our society." She examined my face for a moment before speaking again. "That really doesn't bother you, does it? The idea that you could be the last of the demon race?"

"No," I said bluntly. "Why would it? I'll rejoin the ones I care for and my blood brothers under the care of the Dark Mother once you finally stop pussyfooting around and kill me," I growled at her, halfheartedly trying to goad her into attacking.

"What do you mean by the ones you care for?" she asked, her hand falling onto my thigh. She seemed ignorant of its positioning but I suspected we were each deeply aware of exactly what she was doing. The sensation that occured when she kissed me reappeared, snaking through my veins, an unfamiliar warmth that was somehow... desirable? Shaking my head did little to clear it of such thoughts.

"Those I care for. The ones whose memory and essence I've taken into my own throughout my life. Do you think me so low that I would forget the ones I've freed from this world's worlds torturous grasp? No wonder you will not kill me. You must think me a monster, killing for the pleasurable rush of blood without assuming the responsibility of caring for the souls of the departed."

Her hand moved slightly and the warmth grew more potent, pooling in my gut and my nethers.

Am I sick? Have I contracted some strange disease that is causing me to react like this?

She didn't say anything, seemingly deep in thought. "How many do you care for?"

"Twelve. Four demons and eight angels are sheltered in my soul," I said solemnly, memories already pulled forth from the void in response to her questions.

"Would you like to share them with me?" she asked, removing the hand that was causing strange reactions within my flesh.

"That is a deeply personal thing to ask for," I said, frowning. "But," I cut her off before she could apologize. "It is right to provide them a last taste of the world if we are to depart it together."

"Why do you say that?" She tensed up for reasons I could not comprehend in reaction to my words.

"I have been captured by my enemy. I know of no other way this could end," I stated plainly, uncertain of her strange reaction. I continued sharing the souls I'd claimed to Jenna, "My first was a warrior, she had the greenest eyes I'd ever seen. I snuck up on her in the night, my acolyte blade pierced her flesh. She wheezed, reminding me to cover her mouth to prevent any further sounds from summoning reinforcements. A member of a rival clan whose territory we were invading, from the scars on her body and her equipment she favored sword and shield. She was six times blooded, her marks worn on her hip with pride. I carry her spirit with pride. The second was Destamon, he called my weak and slow, I dealt with him by sneaking..."

Jenna was impassive as I told the stories of the lives that my blade and hands had claimed, my success at stealth and cunning that had kept me alive after so many had died. Pausing only to sip some of the burning water to wet my parched lips and tongue. Altogether it was probably the longest stretch of time that I'd spent talking and I found it oddly comforting to speak with Jenna like this, without the usual posturing and maneuvering of my kin. It was growing late when she reluctantly left my room, hovering over the threshold, looking back at me while drumming her fingers on the wall. Whatever she'd been thinking of saying went unsaid as she left me. I felt better, more stable, than I had in a long time, rolling over and drawing the comforter tight to my still sore body.