The Tragedy of Lailah

ADVISORY: This story contains some darker themes than normal. Please check the tags if in any doubt.

This tale features characters introduced across various stories in the loosely coupled Angels & Demons universe that Djmac1031 and I have created. One part of it overlaps slightly with the end of Heaven and Hole, and some of the flashback sections are contemporaneous with The Undoing of Emma.

Once upon a time, there was a good angel, who met a bad she-demon...

Except that's not what really happened. Let me try that again.

Once upon a time, there was a good angel, who became a very bad angel, and then met a she-demon just like her...

It's not so snappy as the first, but more honest, I think.

See, I'm the angel. My name is Lily, and this is my story.

Here's the thing. Have you ever gone day to day through your life feeling that it didn't quite make sense? That you were maybe living in a coordinate system slightly offset from everyone and everything else? Almost as if your memories, the things you had experienced, the life you had led, weren't entirely self-consistent, maybe not even real? Then welcome to my world. If people find me a little odd, perhaps there's a reason for that.

And then, one day, the scales were lifted from my eyes. One day, it all made sense. One day I could remember again. Who I am, what I had done, the person I had been. And I remembered it was all because of him. The bastard who did this to me in the first place. Him and his nasty demon friend. And to think I had loved him once.

Having granted our new friend, Elena, limited angelic powers, Oúriēl now approached me. "What can I do for you, my child?"

I guess my latent, semen-related super powers had kinda saved the day. But going nova had scared the fuck out of me. It had also reminded me of... no, the thought was gone. No matter, I knew what I was going to ask the archangel for as a reward. "Your divine grace thing. Well I'm not enjoying the condoms so much, and I don't want to do that blue light thing every time I fuck. Could you calibrate it so that I don't run out of juice, but can still have my fun?"

Oúriēl laughed out loud. "Whatever you desire. But I'm also going to grant you greater powers." His voice became more serious. "This is for your faithfulness. And also as my apology... for what I did to you."

Wondering about the emphasis he had placed on the final few words, I bowed my head. Oúriēl extended his arm, and I was briefly bathed in light. And in that light, what dreams may come...

A seemingly endless set of visions went hurtling through my mind. Tumbling, spinning, out of focus, then clear for an instant, then back to a maelstrom. Was it... was it me in the images, or some other girl? I felt suddenly disoriented, as if I was going to faint. Angels don't normally faint, even disgraced ex-angels.

Oúriēl looked at me with evident concern. Whether I reasserted mastery over my own consciousness, or whether the seraph did something to calm me, I wasn't sure. But I was abruptly back to normal, or so I told myself. At least the motion sickness had dissipated.

I stared at Oúriēl, seeking some kind of explanation. In my mind I heard his voice clearly. 'Not now, my precious one, I will explain soon. And I am truly sorry.'

I shook my head and the troubling thoughts evaporated. I took Emma's hand. I could feel the powers that Lucy had granted my girlfriend coursing through her body. I wondered whether she could sense a change in me, whether she knew what it meant.

But no, Emma was beaming at me, and I tried to disguise my disquiet with forced levity, even accompanying my words with an attempted giggle. "We are really going to have a lot of fun now, Emma, aren't we?"

We kissed briefly. Whitney and Elena came to join us and it became a four way cuddle. That felt comforting.

Oúriēl spoke to all of us, but his eyes remained on me. "As I am sure Lucy has hinted, a storm is most likely coming. We will need allies, so please expect us to call on you. And thank you once more."

With that, he left, in search of The Daughter of Morning. As he departed, he left a final thought echoing around my head, 'soon, Lily, soon I will explain.'

Over the next few weeks... nothing happened. Nothing at all. No more visions, no word or sign from my angelic ex-employer. I began to think that maybe I had imagined the whole thing, or that it had simply been a reaction to the trauma we had all experienced. Perhaps my explosion of searing blue light had loosened a few neurons. It sometimes felt like they were pretty loose to start with.

Emma noticed that I was not myself. It was close to impossible to keep anything from her. As well as being my lover, she was -- in a spiritual sense -- my other half, the yin to my yang. We understood each other so well. But I met all of her inquiries with defensiveness. I assumed I was in denial, but some part of my brain kept whispering that ignorance was blissed out. I got the distinct impression that one facet of my consciousness was trying to protect me from another.

Of course I knew it couldn't go on, and I was right. I was right because, one evening, we received a visitor. Not Oúriēl, but the next closest thing. When I opened Andy's front door, standing there was the archangel's éminence grise. "Hi, Clarence, you'd better come in.

Clarence followed me into what might be called the family room in more regular residences. Then I suppose we were a family of sorts.

First there was Andy, our human business partner. He owned the house, which was large and also the home of Emma's Escorts.

Next was our twenty year old charge, Whitney. She was the secret daughter of Oúriēl and Satan herself, or Lucy as her mom preferred to be called. Whitney was currently inhabiting a supernaturally created human vessel, crafted by her mom and dad, and still coming to terms with recently learning about her parentage.

And finally there was Emma, an erstwhile pleasure demon, and my life partner. Though unrelated, and with very different temperaments, the two of us were physically identical. This was an overhang from our previous duties, in which we both wholly failed to guide and protect a similarly petite, blonde human. We both had her freckles too.

So a family, but maybe not the most traditional of ones. Clarence sat on the couch, next to Andy, and gave me a look which I interpreted to mean, 'is this human to be trusted?'

I kinda wanted all my people round me, and said, "it's OK, we have no secrets from Andy."

Andy suddenly realized what was happening. "Yeah, absolutely, I've never told a soul about Whit's devilishly ravishing mother."

Clarence raised an eyebrow, but clearly decided that he could speak freely. "So, I want to talk to all three of you, but I need to talk to Lily. Is it OK to do that with everyone else here?"

I found that I had gripped Emma's hand. Something about the angel's manner had begun to freak me out. No way did I want to be alone while I heard whatever he had to say. "I'd like my friends here, thanks."

Clarence said, "very well," then launched into what was clearly a prepared speech.

"My superiors, and I include Lucy in that as well," he looked at Emma and then Whitney as he spoke. "My superiors have told you that difficult times are coming. Worst case, a civil war pits angel against angel, demon against demon, and," he now looked at Andy, "humankind gets caught in the crossfire."

Clarence allowed himself a small smile. "And when I say crossfire, I'm talking about, lightning, fire, power of... well you get the idea, I'm sure."

Settling down to a more sepulchral tone again, he continued, "And you, Emma and Lily, have proven yourself to be worthy allies. My master and mistress will have need of you."

I looked at Emma, and she returned my gaze, before saying, "so what do you want?"

"Well, Lucy has restored your power of old, Emma. And also granted some abilities that no pleasure demon ever possessed. There is the question of your Mother, Naamah, Satan's right arm. She is still unjustly languishing in detention, for a crime that Lucy knows she didn't commit."

I could feel strong emotions rise in my girlfriend, but she said nothing for now.

Clarence moved on to me. "As for you, Lily. Oúriēl has tried to open your eyes to your true nature, to your past. But... probably understandably, your mind is resisting this knowledge."

He turned to Andy and added, "it's like a body rejecting a transplanted organ, but memories instead of flesh."

I felt I had to say something. "But why? Why don't I want to know?"

Clarence sighed and looked at his hands. "Probably as the memory is unpleasant, my dear. None of us like facing difficult realities."

I kinda wished that I didn't need to know. I had a bad feeling about this. Nevertheless I said, "but I have to, right?"

Clarence raised his eyes and looked at me with deep sincerity. "I think it would be best, yes."

I felt Emma's hand squeezing mine again. Knowing she was there I said, "OK, what do I have to do?"

Clarence stood and walked towards me. "You? Nothing. But I need to do this."

He placed two fingers on my forehead and simply said, "remember."

I had a feeling that I'd never experienced before. An aching void in my body, a quickening of my heart, a hesitation in my breathing. All because of him. His presence affected me, his absence affected me, I felt like my very being was linked to him. To Zerachiel. He wasn't just any angel, he was one of the angels, the seraphs, the leaders of our kind.

And he was beautiful. An aquiline, sensitive face, framed by flowing golden hair. Hair that always seemed to be back-lit, regardless of the ambient illumination. His very skin appeared to glow, his inner goodness emanating from every pore. He was tall, and lithe, and strong, and athletic. The peak of masculine physique.

Zerachiel's wings, when he chose to unfurl them, were those of the most massive albino eagle. The sound of them beating was thunderous. When he spoke, it was like the deepest notes sounding softly on an unseen organ, and his voice conveyed a heady mix of authority and empathy. And this peerless paragon of perfection was interested in me. Ordinary me.

I guess I was pretty in my own limited way. My stature was a suitable match for his, but in female form. My long, auburn hair attracted compliments from all. My body had the firmness and softness of youth, I knew that I turned heads, both male and female. And my face certainly had a pleasing symmetry, with emerald eyes set in flawless, pale skin. But, compared to Zerachiel, I felt at best average, dowdy even. Though, miraculously, he seemed to see something in my quotidian looks.

The first time we had met, I could barely look Zerachiel in the eye. It was during one of the regular periods of angel instruction, he had come to give my class a talk. He walked down a line of us afterwards, exchanging meaningless pleasantries with each girl in turn. When he reached me, I stared at the floor and hardly heard his words. I was perennially shy. But he had put his hand under my chin and lifted my face. His crystal blue orbs met mine and something inside me changed. I have no idea why he favored me with such attention.

With a smile, Zerachiel asked my name and I stammered, "it's Lailah, my Lord."

He stood looking at me for what seemed like minutes, his hand still touching my face. And then he moved on to the next woman, and I told myself that I was imagining things. But, when I put my hand to my chin, I felt something. Something like residual electricity on my finger-tips. I think I knew in that instant.

After that, Zerachiel became a more frequent visitor to the temple in which our tuition was delivered. He sought my company, but there were always others with us. Until that one time...

I was walking with two friends, discussing the lecture we had just attended. Then a deep voice called out softly from the shadow of a pillar. As we stopped to see who might be there, Zerachiel emerged from the darkness. His brightness of countenance reminded me of nothing more than the rising sun. He beckoned and I looked at my friends on either side, certain that his signal was intended for one of them.

When it became clear that it was me he was waving to, I felt paralyzed. But Haniel whispered in my ear that I should go to him. Heart trying to break free of my ribcage, I walked towards the archangel, and he stepped back into the shadows as I approached.

I joined Zerachiel, and before my eyes had fully adjusted to the gloom, I felt his hands on me. It was so right, and so good, that I collapsed into his arms. And I made no resistance as he kissed me, and as his hands worked their way inside my robes.

I was no stranger to the touch of another, either male or female, and had been of age for many centuries, as humans measure such things. Angels believe that intimacy is holy, God-like. But this was different. A seraph? A person of importance and power, and me, a simple girl, possessing neither. It was intoxicating.

And I knew, I knew he was betrothed. Even that his wife's name was Tzaphkiel, an archangel in her own right. Within an angelic marriage, it is customary to still share the gift of carnal knowledge with others. But it is always with the partner's explicit consent. I didn't even stop to think, let alone to ask, as his hand moved between my legs and the music his fingers were playing on me became my world.

Zerachiel's touch was like no one else's. In moments, he had me burying my face in his chest and moaning, as hot currents surged through my tensing flesh, as I surrendered totally to the sweet ecstasy of his stroking.

Before I was myself again, and still hidden from the public square by only architectural adumbration, I felt his hands heavily on my shoulders. I knelt for him, willingly, lovingly, and in total supplication. And his hardness in my mouth felt like a blessing. His seed flooding my throat a sacrament, binding me to him. Marking me as his.

Zerachiel spoke to me only once, as he rearranged his clothing and then disappeared into the depths of the sanctuary. "I will see you later, Lailah."

I returned to my giggling, jealous friends, disheveled, but glowing. They wanted details of course, but I would provide none. Soon enough they moved on to other subjects.

The taste of him stayed with me until we ate. The memory of him for much longer. I lay awake that night, my own fingers trying to create a pale emulation of the euphoria to which he had opened my eyes. And, as my body gave into pleasure again, I breathed the name Zerachiel.

I wondered whether it had been a one time thing. That seemed the most likely outcome to me. Having allowed me the significant honor of fellating him, perhaps I would never hear from Zerachiel again, let alone taste him. But my fears proved to be unfounded.

The very next day, he was waiting for me after class. Hamiel said something about me introducing her to my 'boyfriend,' and that maybe the three of us could spend some time together. Seraphs possessed an irresistible magnetism. But it seemed that Zerachiel had plans for quite a different grouping.

Leaving my frustrated classmate behind, we walked and talked. And Zerachiel mentioned that he too had a friend, one whom he would like me to meet. Again, angels are open to all sorts of experiences, and I wasn't against the idea. It did, however, seem that things were moving very quickly. Maybe too quickly.

And there was another problem, one I could no longer ignore. "The Lady Tzaphkiel, my Lord. I am sure that she has given her gracious permission, but I ought to ask..."

His reply was, I felt, somewhat hurried. "Of course, of course. No problems there. Zap isn't the jealous type. All OK."

I was sure he was telling me the truth, seraphs didn't lie, but something seemed awry to me. "That's good to hear, my Lord, and the customary introduction? The one between a wife and a new concubine. When will that be?"

I saw a wave of frustration pass across Zerachiel's lovely face and immediately regretted my persistence. "Lot's of time for that. Don't you worry. But here is my friend. Lailah, meet Daniel."

We had arrived at Zerachiel's chambers and a younger angel was lounging against the portico. For some reason, I had assumed his friend would be another seraph, but I could tell that Daniel's station was below my own. A common guardian angel was what he appeared to be.

But I had learned not to question Zerachiel. If he wanted the three of us to play, that was good enough for me. Daniel kissed my extended hand and we went inside.

Things moved quickly. I had little time to breathe, let alone consider the wisdom of what I was doing. My robes were on the marble floor, then so were my knees, as I took each of them deeply in turn. I craved Zerachiel's heavenly emissions, but the pair had other ideas.

Taking an arm each, they led me to a side room. It was dimly lit, the flickering of torches was reflected by glistening buckles and shiny leather. Straps and harnesses adorned every wall. In the center was a padded bench. Daniel maneuvered me to lie on this, and got me to shuffle until my head lolled over one end.

I had heard of such places, they were rumored to be common in the residences of high-ranking demons, but in an archangel's house? As fears rose in my breast, Zerachiel stooped to kiss me, and I knew it would be OK, that I would be safe. I said not a word as the pair bound me, and my only noise -- as Zerachiel selected, and then tested, a lethal-looking whip -- was a faint whimper.

The sweetness of his kiss stayed with me as he began to rain down blows on my defenseless torso. The image of Zerachiel's blue eyes from our first meeting remained in my mind as Daniel invaded my body via its tightest opening. The archangel's soft, almost fatherly, voice echoed in my ears as he gripped my unsupported head and as he used the angle to brutally stretch my throat.

But there was a change in me as well. I realized that I was opening up, allowing myself to experience new sensations. I knew this was what Zerachiel wanted, what he expected of his girl. But I also felt something unlock deep within me, an emergent appetite, a desire for the extreme, none of which I had known existed in me, let alone acknowledged.

As the two angels took from me what they wanted, and how they wanted it, my own arousal drowned every vestige of restraint in a tsunami of coruscating stimulation. And -- for the first time in my life -- I relinquished every shred of control. And I screamed my unbearable, orgiastic ecstasy into the darkness, until the walls rang with my impassioned, feral cries.

Then, when our shared needs had been met many times, once more I knelt, and let their flowing juices baptize me, as they splashed over my radiant face.

I met with Zerachiel many other times. At his home, in other buildings, in public. He seemed to relish the frisson of potential discovery, and I must admit to sharing his peccadillo. Sometimes it was just the two of us. More often it was with one or more of his male friends, he seemed to have many friends.