Part Three: A Soul With a Purpose
Neganda woke with a sense of dread filling his long dead heart and soul. He looked up just in time to see the sun beginning to peek over the horizon. He quickly stood, despite the protests from his body, and ran towards the house and inside just as the sun's light hit the front door. Two of his servants lay dead where they had fallen…how long ago? Neganda growled angrily and stalked up the stairs towards the room he shared with Catherine. He slammed open the door and stopped, a sense of dread filling his mind. The dress she'd picked out lay on the floor next to a small puddle of blood. The room was a wreck…she'd put up a fight against the angels that had come for her. Neganda dropped to his knees and that's when he saw the gold ring lying on the floor near the drying blood. It was the ring he'd given her just this past week. He picked up the small band and held it tightly in his hand even as he let out a howl of rage and pain. Tears intermingled with blood streamed down his face and hit the floor next to him.
After a few moments, he slipped a chain off from around his neck and threaded it through the golden band. He returned the chain to his neck and stood. His boots clicked against the wooden floor as he walked into the wardrobe. He pulled out clothing he had not worn in almost one hundred years; black pants, black shirt tied at the throat and silver armor that covered his chest, shoulders, and arms. His long hair he pulled back and clasped at the nape of his neck with a black clip. He pulled out a gold-hilted sword and fastened it to his black belt. He pulled a crossbow and arrows out of a nearby trunk along with a dagger which he stuck in the top of his boot. Those who had come and done this to Catherine would pay with their lives. Before he was through with them, he'd have them begging for their deaths.
Catherine opened her eyes aware that the sun had not yet risen. She pulled herself up with the help of the chains attached to her wrists. Her clothing had been removed and the bruises were now dark in color all over her body. Her left wing was damaged and she knew that in itself would take a long time to heal. It had been two days now…two days of violent beatings, of being sexually abused by her captors. But today, she knew, would be the worst of it all.
Today, they would strap her to a long piece of thick timber and drag her through the streets as a reminder to those angels who dared think of disobeying the laws of their kind. She would then be set upon a makeshift rack, facing away from the people, and the leaders of each clan would have their turns in beating her or using her in plain view of those who had come to watch. This would go on until sundown when she would be returned to her cell…if she remained alive. Tomorrow morning she would be bathed, dressed, and taken to her father who lived on the top of Mount Angelos. He would decide her final sentencing, which could range from exile to death. Catherine shuttered as she thought of the day before her and once again prayed that Neganda would find her in time to save her.
Neganda growled low in his throat and shook his head. He'd heard the tales in the taverns and even now he sat listening to one such tale though the man speaking had no way of knowing who Neganda was and what Catherine meant to him.
"I heard the Archangel Renaldi personally saw to her punishment himself." Another man shook his head.
"The child doesn't deserve such treatment. She is, after all, the Angelica. Renaldi should have been destroyed long ago for selling her to the slave traders. She's lucky she was found by the vampire we all hear about."
"Lucky? She'll be lucky if she lives through tomorrow's activities. I heard from a guard that Renaldi beat her so badly and had her raped that it's a miracle she's still alive."
Neganda felt himself grow even colder with the man's words and the growl sounded in his throat once more. The more quiet spoken man, the one who had voiced his concern over Catherine, heard the sound and turned, his eyes widening somewhat. Excusing himself from the conversation he turned and walked to Neganda.
"You'd do well to find her quickly, old one, before she is further harmed." Neganda looked up at the man, the bloodlust evident in his now dark red eyes. "Calm yerself, milord. Come. I'll take you to where she is being held. I have no desire to see her taken into the streets come dawn and watch her be used by the males of her species." Neganda stood and followed the man out of the tavern. Once outside, the man shed his cape revealing black wings.
"You're one of them," Neganda hissed quietly. The man shook his head.
