Chapter 1: VESTA
 
Why are you alive?
Is the blood coursing through your veins?
Do you feel it?
The sin bleeding from your lips?
Why are you living?
I watched you die.
 

 

Vesta was annoyed, and it wasn't even time for Morning Prayer yet. His hand went to his lips as he took a drag of his cigarette while his golden eyes, hinted with specks of green, scanned the people around him. They looked happy-oblivious to the real happenings around them-and cheerful as another day set upon them. This city made his stomach churn. For being the capital of the Northern Continent, it lacked the city feel: it was orderly and crime free, the people's lives less hectic, more freewill. Vesta rolled his eyes at the absurd thought. That was only what they wanted you to see from the outside looking in. Reality wasn't so kind.
 
He took one more hit of his cigarette before putting it out on the bottom of his boot. It was about time he bought a new pair anyway. They were worn down to the sole and falling apart at the seams. The construction job he had was anything but gentle on his shoes or even his wardrobe. Not like he owned anything worth keeping anyway.
 
A bell rang in the distance and Vesta's orbs flicked up; the city became deadly quiet almost instantly-the quiescence unnerving to anyone who didn't come from Oratio originally. The people around him fell to their knees, almost in sync as they bowed their heads. Their hands, now free of any items, were clasped in front of them. A cold shiver shot down Vesta's spine, an eerie feeling creeping into his conscious. No matter how many times he saw it, the event always brought out feelings he couldn't quite describe, but isolation and dread were as close as he could get to putting them into words.
 
He snorted at his own thoughts. The city of Oratio was as messed up as the people in it.
 
"Fuckin' weirdos," he mumbled to himself as he stood. Vesta never participated in Morning Prayer. He found religion a ridiculous concept, only people too scared to face their fates had turned to religion as an out. He found it nothing short of disgusting-humans beings were worthless creatures that clung to higher powers to be saved, unable to fend for themselves. They were either controlled by the Angels or the Demons, which didn't leave much room for advancement. Humans were like a colony of ants.
 
Vesta got another cigarette from his pack and fumbled around in his jacket pocket for a lighter. The smoke danced as it climbed its way up into the atmosphere. Wishful thinking had him wanting to travel to the south where there was more freedom. Oratio was starting to suffocate him.
 
Not one person looked his way as he trekked along the city streets. Its residents were too afraid to disobey the Order. He couldn't blame them, disobedience meant either death or a lifetime contributing yourself for the common good, or better known as a slave of the Order. Neither option sounded very promising unless you were poor, and even then it was a fine line.
 
"Hey, what are you doing?"
 
Vesta cursed under his breath and turned around. One of the Order's looneys had caught him. He found it amusing that they could skip prayer and roam town looking for people who didn't. It kind of defeated the purpose.
 
"Smoking, sir," he said, unfazed. He held up his cigarette, eyes challenging. Ruffling their feathers had its own fun, and this city was truly lacking in that department. Or maybe he was just an asshole. He wasn't sure.
 
The man stepped closer and reached up to lower his hood. Long hair and angry black eyes greeted Vesta's own. He never understood why the people in the Order all had to have long, platinum colored hair. They stood out from the crowd, and maybe that was their purpose, although Vesta seriously had his doubts.
 
"Name and area of residence." His voice was cool and sharp, one that left no room for remark.
 
Vesta ignored him in favor of taking another drag of his cigarette.
 
"Name and area of residence. Now." Irritation was now evident.
 
"Vesta of the Middle District." He flicked his cigarette and watched the ashes swirl around in the light breeze.
 
The man wrinkled his nose in disgust. "What is a rat like you doing in the Inner City?" And the true colors came out.
 
"None of your business, whitey." The white robes the Order were forced to wear did nothing but hurt his eyes. The color white was supposed to show innocence, purity, goodness and-this last one made him laugh-virginity. What a bunch of bullshit. Unless you were part of the Order or the higher ups of Oratio, you were not allowed to garnish white clothes. Citizens were sent to a correctional facility if caught.
 
"Under Act 5 of the Angelus Law, I have the right to take you into custody for disobeying the Order and for not participating in the mandatory Morning Prayer session." He reached his hand out. The option was Vesta's, take it willingly or force was going to be used. "You are coming with me."
 
Vesta couldn't hold in the laugh that vibrated in his throat. This guy was an insufferable idiot. Then again, all of the Angel's subordinates were jokes.
 
"No thanks." Vesta walked past the man's outstretched hand and laid his own on the white haired man's shoulder. "See ya'." Before the Order's lackey had a chance to retaliate, Vesta dug his cigarette into his neck. His scream was lost as the bell rang throughout town ending the Morning Prayer.
 
Although his cigarette was wasted and he was conveniently out, a grin couldn't help but form on Vesta's lips. The townspeople began to get up and scurry about and they took over the town once again. Vesta dipped down into an alley and out of sight. He had no doubt the man from the Order was seething at that very moment as he stomped his way back to the Upper District. Likely he'd file a complaint and Vesta would have to make himself scarce for a couple weeks. A much needed vacation was on the horizon.
 
A trip to the flower shop was due. No doubt he'd have to woo his girlfriend into going along with him. She would be pissed.
 
A ways down the Inner City's stone streets he came upon a small, but elegant flower shop on the corner. With all the mistakes he had made over the years, he would be lying if he said he didn't frequent the place more than he had liked. A sign that read "Flower Shop" hung above the door in a cursive script. Wasn't that an ironic name?
 
He pushed open the door and almost turned back around when he was hit with the fragrance of flowers. Vesta couldn't help but wiggle his nose in agitation.
 
"Ahh, Vesta, long time no see."
 
Vesta looked over at the man who spoke to him. The owner. A smile graced the owner's lips and the skin around his eyes crinkled together the bigger it got. The guy was old and as Vesta told him time and time again, he wasn't getting any younger.
 
"Are you here for the usual?"
 
It was sad that he had "a usual". It wasn't hard for him to admit that he was a fuck up. He couldn't hold a relationship worth his life, and most of the time the women left him saying how "unfeeling" or "detached" he was. It was tempting to say it wasn't his fault, but all of the signs pointed at him. It was hard to give your all towards someone you could feel nothing more than companionship from. Love was not a skill he possessed, and over the years, he became more aware that he would always be alone.
 
"No." He left his reply short and scanned the array of flowers before him. None of the flowers caught his eye, the multitude of shapes, sizes, and colors did nothing but bore him. It was only when his eyes caught a pink bouquet with splashes of yellow in it did he become intrigued. The color was artificial. Flowers did grow, but since The Promise they all turned out white.
 
The owner must have followed his eyes, for he raised an eyebrow at his decision. "No blue today?"
 
Vesta grunted in response, but made no move to answer him. Blue was his girlfriend's favorite color, and it was also the color of her Zodiac Sign. The Order frowned upon Astrology, deeming it "stupid and unworthy for higher beings", but that didn't stop everyone from talking about it behind their backs. With nothing else to consume their time besides idle gossip, Zodiac Signs were popular among the young and the old.
 
"So, what did you do this time?" the owner inquired, and he began to gently wrap a see-through paper around the flowers as if he was holding something precious.
 
"It has nothing to do with her." He sighed as he replayed the day's earlier events in his head. "Those idiots in the Order-"
 
The owner narrowed his eyes. "What did you do this time? You know you can't be messing with them."
 
And the father figure finally makes his appearance. "I refuse to pray to some God."
 
"No one is telling you to do that, but the least you can do is make it look like you are." The owner finished wrapping the flowers and handed them over to Vesta. "It's on the house."
 
"Thanks," he mumbled in reply. A pink bow was wrapped around the middle.
 
"I'll try and talk to them for you, but you need to lay low for a while."
 
"Thanks, Alden." The owner, Alden, was on the Council when he was younger, and because of that he had more pull when it came to the authorities. He had helped Vesta numerous times in getting out of tough situations ever since he was a little kid roaming the streets and causing trouble. Without Alden, he would probably be a slave to the Order and brainwashed to do their bidding. Just thinking about it pissed him off.
 
"Be careful out there." His tone held caring and compassion, something Vesta had lacked most of his life.
 
With the flowers in hand, Vesta made to leave, but stopped with his hand on the door.
 
"What do these flowers mean?" It was a stupid question, and he wasn't even sure why he asked.
 
Alden paused before answering. "They are called the Rhododendron. They mean caution and beware."
 
"Hmm." Vesta gave a quick wave and left.
 
Once outside, Vesta took a turn that would lead him to the border where the Inner City met the Middle City District. The taller, less spaced out buildings of the Inner City left one feeling confined and claustrophobic, but the closer one came to the other districts, the feeling eased up and the buildings began to space out. While the Inner and Upper cities had marble houses and stone walkways, the lower districts-Outer and than Border-consisted of wood buildings and dirt roads.
 
There were fewer lanterns to light the roads and eventually they tapered off. The now light-less alleyways contained the occasional drug dealer and drunks once day turned to night. I it only became worse the farther out you went. The two outer districts were known for theft, perpetual drug use and murder. Vesta lived in the middle of it all and tasted a little of both.
 
He turned down another street and then another, passing by what most called the red light district of the Inner City. It bordered the Middle District, so people of all kinds could be found for games and pleasure. Vesta tended to stay away from there, memories of being drugged all too vivid. The flashing lights faded away the farther he went.
 
The cement below his feet waned as he passed over the border, the only sign that he had done so being the torn and decaying sign that said Middle City District. Its letters were falling victim to atrophy and large amounts of dust.
 
Home: an empty four-letter word.
 
Vesta kept going until his apartment complex was in sight. A couple people hovered around the entrance, three of them altogether, two of them he could pick out as tenants on his floor.
 
"Yo, Vesta," one of them called out. The large beanie occupying the man's head was a dead giveaway that it was his neighbor, Cray. No one looked as cracked out as he did. It was rare for the man to not be on drugs and it showed on his deathly pale face.
 
Vesta nodded in response while he reached into his pocket for a cigarette before realizing he was out.
 
"Here." The guy next to Cray, who Vesta noticed was a man named Lenny who lived in the far end apartment, handed him a cigarette.
 
He lit it up and took a look at the third guy in the group. He was doped out on some drug and swayed back and forth while looking straight ahead. His pupils were all but nonexistent.
 
"Ignore him, he always looks like that," Cray said.
 
"Not a damn worry in the world." Lenny rolled his eyes.
 
The conversation stopped there and silence engulfed the group. Vesta shifted hands so that the flowers weren't inhaling the toxic fumes. He was halfway done when Lenny spoke up.
 
"I saw some guy enter your apartment earlier."
 
"A guy?" Vesta asked. He racked his brain as to who it could be, but came up blank. "Karen let him in?"
 
"I guess. He knocked a couple times first."
 
"He was dressed in a suit and everything," Cray added. "I didn't know Karen knew such a sophisticated-looking man."
 
That was what was bugging him. She didn't. Even though they had only been dating for a little over a year, Vesta had never seen her around other guys besides the ones on their floor. She was a loner like himself. It was why he was attracted to her in the first place.
 
"Do you think he can get us into one of the Inner City clubs? I heard the girls there are smokin' hot-"
 
"No." Vesta's reply was short and sharp. He turned to Lenny. "How long ago did you see him?"
 
"Not too long after you left." Lenny looked as if he was going to say something else, but whatever he wanted to say never left his lips. Lenny didn't say another word.
 
Vesta threw his cigarette on the ground and smashed it under his shoe with more effort than was needed. He was on edge and nervous. The meaning to the flowers in his hand passed through him for a split second before becoming lost in the turmoil of his conscious. He had to make sure everything was okay. With her, with them, with everything.
 
He walked past the three and into the apartment. Cray's voice echoed something, but the closing of the door had shut it out. The apartment had no elevator and he took the stairs. Vesta had to be thankful he was only on the second floor.
 
His mind whirled with ideas of who the man was, and he couldn't help but wonder if Karen had been cheating on him. He wasn't the best boyfriend, yet he couldn't picture what he could have done wrong either. His lack of emotions and feelings might have helped her along in her choice to cheat. If it was true.
 
The door was shut, and Vesta could hear the soft melody of a classical tape Karen had recently bought at the flea market. He tried the handle and felt a small wave of relief when he noticed it was locked. After searching for his key and coming up with nothing, he checked his back pocket and sighed in satisfaction. It was always in the last place he thought to look.
 
The door opened with a familiar creak, and Vesta stepped inside. He held his breath at the scene before him; it surpassed anything he thought up himself. It was far, far worse. Vesta could feel his mind going numb and his body along with it. He tried to move his hand forward, but even that was a challenge his constitution blatantly ignored. Vesta doubted a lot of things in his life, from his upbringing, to the Order, and even something as small as his worthless job, but at this moment, he did not doubt that what was in front of him was done out of pure hate.
 
The gold in his eyes had drowned out the specks of green as they often did when he was angry. The image in front of him would forever be engraved into his thoughts and his soul. This would be known as the turning point in his mundane, thoughtless existence. A battle was raging in his head, a battle to keep his sanity or to run in a mindless fever of hatred and bloodshed.
 
The room before him, the only place he could call home, was covered in blood that splattered the walls and the carpet, dying the small room in ruby red. In the middle of the wreckage lay the one good thing that had come to him in all his years of pointless living, cold and dead; the body cut and mangled, it would be hard for anyone else to tell who it was.
 
The battle was leaning toward the latter, and would do nothing but spiral downward until he crashed.
 
The flowers fell out of his hands and to the floor below, making a soft noise as they crumpled to the ground. The dyed pink turned red upon impact with the floor as it slowly seeped into the remaining petals.
2: Chapter 2: VESTA
Chapter 2: VESTA

His living room felt empty, void of the warmth it once emitted. It was always bare, only having the essentials, but now it was even more desolate. The fan in the room was unplugged and stuffed into a corner, and the heat was almost as suffocating as his emotions. Vesta took down all of Karen's stuff and packed them into boxes. Her mom came to pick them up yesterday.

It had only been a couple of days since the murder. To Vesta it felt like weeks. The only thing left to remind him of his girlfriend were the flowers that he bought her, now left in a vase on the kitchen counter, and a ring he gave her a month before. It was something he received from Alden when he was a kid. Vesta took it as a reminder and was satisfied it fit on his little finger.

Vesta groaned into his hands and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. He managed to get ahold of the authorities, although he had to hide while they handled the cleanup. He was still wanted for earlier allegations and couldn't risk being taken away. Karen's mom had informed him there were no leads on who the killer was. Lenny and Clay were questioned, but that was the end of that. With nothing to go on, the case was practically dead even before it began.

He knew he couldn't stay in his apartment anymore, memories too fresh they were painful. But he had to come back one last time. Alden was still trying to clear his name. Yet, he had to see the place. He wasn't in-love with Karen. God, he hated to admit it, especially since she was dead. It felt wrong to even think that at this point. Vesta loved her like a best-friend and all that did was blow up in his face.

Vesta stood up and grabbed his backpack off the couch. He made many memories on that old thing, especially with how often he was kicked out of his own room. It wasn't the most comfortable piece of furniture, but he would miss it. The Inn's on his way to the South were anything but luxurious.

Boots walked over the stained carpet - he tried to get out the blood stain and failed - and to the door. He inhaled, exhaled, and turned around for one last look. Old memories flowed through him, the good and the bad, the harsh and the cherished. The thought of him leaving was sickening, mostly because it was like starting a new chapter in his life, partly because it was the only place since he could call home - being an orphan kept him from ever settling down. It was easy to say he had no intention of coming back. Change, as for any human, was a hard concept to accept. Thanks to his upbringing, he was less than human.

It was time to head over to Alden's and see if he had a plan figured out to get Vesta over the Border. He was out all day yesterday getting supplies, feet aching and body sore.

It was already afternoon by the time he made it to the Flower Shop. A couple people were strolling around, and after a quick look at their outfits, Vesta was happy to see none were from the Order. He was getting tired of having to tip-toe around them. They weren't hard to miss, considering their favorite piece of clothing was the most vivid color to the eye.

A scowl crept onto his face as he thought about the asshole that was trying to get him in trouble. Vesta hoped that cigarette burn would scar.

"What's with that sour look?" Alden asked upon seeing him, worry apparent on his features.

"Nothing. I just remembered I forgot to take out the trash before I left." Mostly true. Anyone who was with the Order was nothing more than a piece of garbage.

Alden looked at him quizzically, saying nothing in reply to his offhanded remark. "Are you ready to go? Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Of course I'm sure. You know what, I haven't been so sure of anything in my life." The sarcasm was dripping from his words. "This is a life changing moment, you know, old man?"

A sigh. "I'm serious, Vesta. Life in the South is nothing like it is up here."

"Please don't tell me you're going to start that father shit again. I don't need a lecture." Vesta set down his backpack and sat onto a stool next to the counter. Alden stood behind it, hands folded on the countertop.

"They don't have the order we have. Their country is ruled by gangs and they are the authority. The strong survive and the weak are picked off one by one." Alden had a faraway look as he spoke about the South, like he was remembering something from long ago. "It is not unusual to find a dead body lying in the streets."

"Sounds a hell of a lot better than here. With the Order breathing down our damn necks, it's near impossible to do much of anything and you know it."

"I can't argue with you there. I left the Counsel for a lot of reasons, but that was one of the bigger ones." Vesta watched as Alden bent over and fiddled around with something below the counter before he reappeared with a rolled up piece of paper.

"What's that?" he asked, eyeing the paper suspiciously.

"A map." Alden unfolded it.

"Of...?"

"If you would hold on a second. . . Here." He pointed to a black line that seemed bolder in color and out of place. "This is the Border and over here," his hand traced a faded red line down the map," is where you need to go."

"And that is?" Why couldn't Alden give him straight answers? He hated guessing games.

Carefully, as to not tear the paper, he circled the spot on the map with a red marker. "A safe place."

"Enough of the bullshit. Are you going to explain, or is this cryptic crap all I'm going to get?" His patience was wearing thin. Sadly, he didn't have much to begin with. Anger overtook his senses and rationality flew out the window with ease.

"A friend lives there. His name is Seere. Tell him my name and he will take care of you and get you situated over there." Alden's voice was solid and unwavering, his conviction and trust in the man openly obvious to anyone. "I'll try to let him know ahead of time, thought you shouldn't take my word on that. I heard there's trouble brewing on the Border, so I won't make any promises."

"S'good enough." Vesta rolled up the map and pocketed it. "Is there any trick to getting over the Border unharmed?"

Alden's lightly smiled at his question. "Run fast and don't get caught."

"That's it?" Vesta's eye twitched in annoyance. "You're kidding me, right?"

"No, I'm not. The Angel's don't like anyone leaving their city or anyone entering it. Merchant's and the few people with a travel pass are the only ones allowed to navigate the Border." A finger found its way to Alden's chin and he silently stroked pale skin in thought. "Blend in with the early morning crowds and sneak in."

"You make it sound so easy." His hand hovered over his pocket, debating if smoking would calm his rattled nerves or not.

"Don't get caught," he reminded him again, this time with a firmer tone.

Vesta held back an eye roll. Alden was acting strange, but he found it in his best interest to ignore it. A cigarette was sounding better and better by the second.

"A word from the wise, you should probably quit smoking. Cigarettes sold by demons are usually laced." A smug look formed on Alden's face.

Why did he look so goddamn happy? "Good, I need something with a stronger kick."

"You'll change your mind when you find yourself stripped naked on the side of the road."

"You're really starting to annoy me." A customer came up to the counter then, hands carrying a potted plant. Vesta kept whatever else he was going to say inside and stood up.

With the map, a person to meet on the other side, and a bag of supplies, he felt oddly lighter than he did before seeing the old man. "See you on the other side." The irony in that comment had Vesta regretting ever having said it.

Alden nodded and turned his attention to the customer. Vesta left the shop and headed towards the Border.

A couple hours in and Vesta was already entering the Outer City District. Dirt, dust, and smoke were all too noticeable in the air. He caught himself coughing more than once and he often rubbed his eyes on his dark green jacket. The stench of the Outer District paled in comparison to the Border District, but that didn't make it stink any less.

Vesta was by no means well off, but he caught more than a couple people eyeing him and his belongings. Damn if he was going to give any of his stuff up. He'd fight tooth and nail before they got their grubby paws on any of it.

The afternoon turned into evening and the light began to subside. Vesta wrapped his jacket tighter around him and picked up the pace. His stomach growled in anticipation of a meal that was coming closer and closer by the minute. The Border District had a semi-decent Inn on the main path, at least that was what Alden had mentioned. It wouldn't be long now.

Sometimes, he would think about Karen, and then he would dream of the impossible and piss himself off before he had to stop himself. He didn't have the luxury of being depressed and distracted, anything could happen to him now that he was farther away from the Order's influence. They mostly stayed away from the outer districts, terrified for their life. It was understandable; if they were captured they would probably never see the light of day again.

Vesta meandered the path and felt his eyes close more than once. He was positive he would master sleepwalking before his trip was over.

He had to hurry. Once darkness hit it would be near impossible to travel. Sleeping in an alley meant certain death, he was sure.

The Inn he was looking for stood merely a few feet away from him. The only thing keeping him from running in and finding a bed to pass out on was a group of gangly looking idiots hanging outside the entrance. His luck had been fairly good till that moment, but a creeping feeling couldn't help but simmer in his stomach.

His approach must have alerted them and their gazes fell upon him. The boredom was stripped from their faces and replaced with something akin to hunger. Why did everyone want to pick a fight with him? It was really starting to tick him off.

Vesta narrowed his eyes and made to push past the group, but a heavy hand held him back by the arm.

"Where do you think you're goin'?" The man's breath reeked of alcohol.

"Get the hell off of me." Vesta shook his arm free and stepped back. Their original eye color was faded to the point that the red of their sclera took over. It was the side effect of a popular drug, a name he couldn't remember.

"Nice shoes," one of the guys spoke. Vesta wasn't sure which one.

"What's in the backpack?"

"Hey, cool jacket. You won't care if I borrow it, will ya'?"

"I call dibs on that ring."

The ring. He forgot he had it on. There was no way in hell he was going to let those druggies have anything of his. He was outnumbered and most likely outmatched, but he would fight even knowing he would lose.

Before they had a chance to attack, Vesta flung his fist forward and it smacked into the person closest to him. He could hear a crack and a groan, someone swearing, and the smell of sweat and B.O. as the other members of the group jumped him. Punch after punch landed on his face and body, even a couple kicks to his ribs.

He managed to break free momentarily to punch one in the gut and, out of sheer adrenaline, bite one on the neck. His little victory didn't last long, seconds later he was assaulted from behind. As he fell to his knees, they assaulted his sides. The fight was moving at lightning speed, the pain started to numb and his emotions were running haywire. Vesta knew he was going to blackout soon and silently cursed the fact he was dumb enough to take on so many guys himself.

They were holding him down now, pain coursing through his flesh and his nerves frayed. He would hold out as long as he could, this pain nothing compared to what Karen had probably felt before her last breath.

Even though he wouldn't remember it until he was awake, he was slightly proud of the fact he bit one hard enough to make them bleed.

xxx

Vesta woke sometime after the sun came up. His head was throbbing, but even that pain was dull in comparison to how his lower extremities felt. He wasn't sure of the damage, though he had to guess a few bruised ribs and a concussion was somewhere on the list of why he was feeling like shit.

A quick look around helped him surmise someone had dragged him to the side of the Inn. His backpack was missing - no surprise there - and his ring was nowhere to be found. Surprisingly enough, his cigarettes were untouched in his pocket and his clothes were intact besides the dirt caked on from his earlier rumble.

He looked a little rough around the edges, but now he supposed he blended in better with the trash around. Vesta stood up, took a few steps a few steps, before coming to realize he was favoring his right leg over the other. The short journey left to the border was going to be anything but enjoyable, as if it was at all.

With the help of the buildings, the way to the border was less painful than it could have been. His stomach kept growling and refused to give in; he could feel the acid eating away at his insides. It was a shock he had yet to vomit, although the feeling wasn't far away.

Kids played around in the streets, vendors waved customers in, guards patrolled along the border and a wild dog searched an overturned trash can for food. The Border District was barely more livable than the Outer City. The Border was cleaner than the actual Border District, but only by a bit.

Vesta scanned the Border and watched carts come in and out without a problem, the owners waving some ID card around. One or two people were stopped and inspected, but mostly it was free reign. Alden must have been getting senile in his old age. There was nothing secure about the area. Anyone could walk in and out without as much as a glance their way.

If anything, it raised his spirits and gave him a spark of hope. Vesta watched for a few more minutes before braving the deed himself. It was now or never. He'd be lying if he said his heart wasn't racing in his chest, or if his anxiety wasn't already through the roof. He left everything he knew for a chance to get away from the chains, the people, that held him down.

He reached for his hood and pulled it down over his eyes. Vesta kept his golden-green orbs down, afraid the color would alert a guard. He was told numerous times over the years that his eyes had a strange color to them. It tended to draw people in, and not always the right kind.

Vesta kicked an empty can aside with his boot. Trying to avoid all of the litter was a game in itself.

"Almost there," he mumbled, excitement coursing through his veins as the end came into his view.

He was tempted to pick up his pace, but decided against it. It was one thing to look eager, not to mention his appearance would only make him look suspicious.

Vesta stepped over the invisible line that separated Oratio from the demons, so close to one another yet so distinct in their own ways. A guard only a few feet away didn't even notice him, too busy telling off a fool that managed to get caught. The man was frowning, obvious to anyone he wasn't a noble, law-abiding citizen.

Feeling accomplished, Vesta lowered his hood and spared a glance ahead of him. Even though he had lost all of his belongings, he still had a smidgen of optimism at his situation. That was owed to Alden's enigmatic friend he had to find now that task one was crossed off his list.

Vesta's eyes finally focused and settled on two people in front of him. Crimson orbs and blond hair observed him. The one with the unmissable red eyes widened before his hands reached behind him, although the small things happening around him passed by unnoticed.

He continued to move forward, momentarily forgetting about them to take in the scene around him. The broken down wood buildings were replaced with warehouses and some tinier steel structures that surrounded them. Wagons of all kinds littered the streets and people hovered about them, delicacies only found in the demon realm lined up in a way that was appealing to the eye, reds and oranges the more prominent color. The sun, blinding in the North, faded the farther south one looked, once cerulean skies lost in an inky blackness.

One line divided the two, but they felt worlds apart. It even smelled different, the wafting scents of foreign food lingered.

Even with the hundreds of people in the surrounding area, he felt empty, the atmosphere devoid of any pleasure or fondness. To figure out what was truly going on, it would be a while before he could place it.

It was then, after hearing the sharp sound of a gun going off, that he finally came to terms that the world was out to get him. His vision blackened, the smell of gunpowder was the last scent he remembered.

3: Chapter 3: CECIL
Chapter 3: CECIL
Cecil idly played with the corner of his shirt; an almost microscopic brown stain tainted the end of his sleeve. His gray shirt did nothing to disguise it; instead it only made it more susceptible to the eye.
 
"Cecil, are you even listenin' to me?"
 
At hearing his name, Cecil tilted his head up and met the fierce eyes of his brother. "You're talking about the Border security."
 
A heavy sigh left his brother's lips. Cecil had no doubt he was irritated. "Not just Border security, the whole damn operation!"
 
"Calm down, Noor, or you'll pop the few brain cells you have left." A snort was heard next to the guy who spoke, and Cecil could only smile. The one who was speaking, Ose, was an intelligent man with a sarcastic attitude, and the one next to him, Phenex, was Noor's best friend.
 
"Shut up, Phenex."
 
"I didn't even say anything-"
 
Noor quickly turned around and pointed his finger in Phenex's direction, red eyes blazing. "Stop interrupting me!"
 
Phenex humped and waved him off.
 
"Our lives depend on this deal going through; we don't have time to be screwin' around." Cecil noted how Noor's voice reached an octave higher when he was on the verge of losing control of his anger. Cecil was always tempted to push it.
 
"You know how I feel about this business of yours, brother." Cecil's voice was calm and smooth, like the rhythmic flow of water. As always, he was the voice of reason among the group. He didn't lie when he said that; it was nothing but the truth, even if it was one better left unsaid.
 
"No one asked for your opinion, Cecil." He watched as Noor lit up a cigarette, eyes staring straight past him. "You remind me so much of an angel; sometimes I forget that you're a demon."
 
Cecil found his opinion hard to disagree with, and it was discussed on many occasions. The only attribute he had in his favor was his pale skin and piercing gaze, but even that fell flat when compared to everything else: sea blue eyes as calm as the ocean, platinum blond hair that fell mid-back, and his slim figure that only added to his demonic beauty, or lack thereof. Usually demons had rougher features. His brother was a pure example of that with his sharp jaw and narrow eyes. His body was toned and it was hard to miss the tattoo's that adorned his left arm in swirls of black ink.
 
"Whatever you say, dear brother." Cecil always found amusement in playing around with him. He liked to call it brotherly love, but Noor had a more foul term for it. What was it again?
 
Noor rolled his eyes before continuing. "The security on the Oratio side is flimsy at best on most days, but it started to pick up a couple days ago. I've never seen so many airheaded assholes checking the border."
 
"I haven't heard anything on my side," Phenex added. His almond brown hair fell in his face, and he rested his head on his hand.
 
Cecil watched them from the corner of his eye, but his attention was waning. It wasn't that he was not interested in the affairs, but more that he already knew what was going on. He was always watching, and he knew more about the undergoing's in the underground gangs than most. Humans and demons alike were interesting creatures, and he couldn't help but be fascinated by them.
 
"Ose, anything?" Noor asked his other companion who sat on a box next to Phenex.
 
Blond colored strands were pushed from his contemplating face. "Not much. My men heard talk of the Order cracking down, but not much else. They are more tight-lipped about these things than usual."
 
"What about your gang, Noor? You have more connections than any of us." Phenex gave his best friend a negligible look.
 
"They've been cut off from the inside. Dammit!" He pounded his fist on the wall next to him, red orbs burning and irate.
 
"We can't afford another failed operation." Ose, always pointing out the obvious.
 
"You heard the man." And Phenex, always agreeing with whatever is said.
 
"You guys aren't helping! If I wanted someone to point out the fuckin' obvious, I'd find myself some Unclean idiot off the street."
 
"Are you calling me stupid?" Phenex scoffed, clearly appalled by the thought.
 
"What the hell do you think?"
 
"Guys, the operation-"
 
They continued their conversation, but Cecil was no longer listening. He walked to the edge of the room and out of earshot. The duty of being the leader in one of the demon gangs was something he didn't involve himself with. As he was told many times in the past, he was too warm and caring to divulge in their drug smuggling and gang wars.
 
Another yell filled the room and Cecil took that moment to escape out the door.
 
The sun began to dip below the horizon as it called forth the obscurity of night. Shadows careened down the narrow alleys and dim lights started to flicker on one by one. Nighttime was mostly quiet around the Border, but that was due to security and the Border between the Angels and the Demons. More experienced gang members slunk around with the dark covering their tracks, but because of the Unclean, a lot of people tended to stay inside.
 
Cecil scanned the buildings around him and found nothing except an Unclean slithering his way down. Their eyes were completely black and void of any emotion. They moved with no direction, and the cause of their disease was unknown. The inhabitants of the lower city stuck to calling them Unclean for various reasons, but the most prominent was their zombie-like actions. Cecil wasn't afraid of them, and at times he tried to communicate with them out of curiosity, but they didn't even show his appearance affected them in any way.
 
The Unclean stopped in front of him, nose up in the air sniffing around like a cat.
 
"Another one, huh?"
 
Not at all surprised by Ose's appearance, Cecil scooted along the wall to make room for him. "It seems so."
 
"Should I call the Cleaners?" The corners of his lips turned up ever so slightly.
 
"I'm sure they are busy enough as is." Cecil brushed some dirt off of his black jeans. "No doubt he will be gone by morning. The least we can do is let him wander for the night, don't you think?"
 
Ose let out a short laugh at that. "Always so noble. Sometimes I wonder where your brother came from."
 
It was an unsavory topic-one Cecil didn't like to talk about-but let it slide nonetheless. Their Father wasn't anyone to be proud of, and no matter how much Noor fought him on the subject, he just couldn't agree.
 
"I didn't want to say this in front of Noor, but he really needs to watch his back. He should call off the job, but I won't hold my breath on that."
 
"Is there something I should know?" Ose always came to him when Noor was blinded by his pride on always successfully completing a job. Cecil was the intelligent one, and his brother the brawns.
 
Ose put his hands in his pockets and tilted his head to the sky. "Word has it an Angel is trying to sneak in."
 
Cecil raised an eyebrow. "An angel?"
 
"Not sure what it means, but it can't be anything good."
 
The Unclean sniffed in their direction, and Cecil found it odd that it did that at all. Research showed they had limited intelligence and their brains were rewired to completely shut down anything besides basic functions such as walking and eating-sometimes humans, mostly animals.
 
"They are always trying to catch us breaking some law so that they can finally have a reason to start a war." A flimsy invisible line was the only thing keeping the two sides away from each other.
 
"Not like they need one," Ose said and pushed himself up and away from the wall. He ran a hand through his wild, spikey blond hair. "By the way, your brother was looking for you. He looked pretty serious."
 
"Thanks, Ose." Cecil nodded his head and Ose went back inside.
 
If the Angels were planning something, there was only one person who would know what was really going on. Cecil let out a sigh. The last person he wanted to see was most likely the only one who could help. After hearing Noor out, he would have to weigh his options: the chance of someone sneaking in and bringing the scent of death, or a trip to their Father that could help solve the problem before it became an issue.
 
The Unclean one was now out of the alley that housed their warehouse. If it was lucky, it would stay away from the inner city. Exitium was like a maze for anyone who wasn't familiar with its layout. Half of it was built on a mountain.
 
The air was becoming bitter against his skin and he tried to remember where he put his jacket. He wrapped his arms around himself to defend against the chilled air and went back inside. The warmth of the room did little to ease his minds ceaseless thoughts, but it did help his body.
 
"Cecil..."
 
He looked up to meet crimson orbs.
 
A frown formed on Noor's features as he took in Cecil's appearance. "Where's your jacket?"
 
Cecil shrugged. His brother could be overprotective to a fault, but he rarely showed it to others.
 
Noor shook his head, lips forming a thin line before speaking. "I need a favor from you."
 
"Anything." When it came down to it, Cecil would do anything to help Noor. They were family.
 
"When this transaction goes down in a couple days, I want you to be the lookout. You have a keen eye for trouble, and. . ." The rest was left unsaid, but Cecil finished the sentence in his head, knowing exactly what was going to be said.
 
A tender expression pulled at his face. "Of course. You know I shouldn't have to tell you this, but-"
 
"Be careful, yeah, yeah." Noor scratched the back of his head. A habit he had when he was nervous. It was kind of cute, which was weird to say considering Noor was anything but a "cute" guy, more so masculine.
 
Silence engulfed the two for a couple minutes. It looked like Noor had something else to say, but was deciding if he should tell him or not. Cecil was getting a bad feeling.
 
"Elise stopped by earlier today." He paused, waiting to see Cecil's reaction before continuing. "Father wants to see you."
 
Cecil tried to hide the loathing from his face, but to no avail. His hands began to shake at his sides, so he grasped one with the other and tried to hide it. "I see."
 
Noor was scratching behind his ear. "I was going to tell you earlier, but I didn't want to spoil your day."
 
"It's fine, really." He was anything but fine. If their Father wanted to speak to him alone, it wasn't going to be anything good. Cecil's head turned to the side.
 
"Sorry." He walked away and left Cecil on his own.
 
The horror of having to face the man that spited Cecil at every turn didn't sit well with him. He was nothing more than a thoughtless existence to that man. When was his right-hand man coming? Did he even have time to prepare?
 
Cecil's hand reached up to his neck, a scar from long ago started to pulse in phantom pain.
4: Chapter 4: CECIL
Chapter 4: CECIL

It was a cold morning. Cecil absently wondered why he always forgot to bring a jacket. If his brother wasn't so busy with seeing out the operation, he was sure he would have already been scolded. The day of the smuggling operation was a busy one.

Noor and Ose were bickering on the other side. It was discernible something wasn't going as planned, their heated gazes only encouraging his thoughts. Noor was tapping his foot and had his arms crossed, while Ose had his normal placid look as he either tried to calm him down or rile him up. It was hard to tell from his position.

Looking for an Angel in disguise among a throng of people was no easy task. Cecil knew he should stay focused, but the conversation he had with his father earlier in the week had him in disarray. The only good thing that came out of seeing him was his connections. The Border security was lightened within a day of him asking.

Cecil shook his head and let his vision wander back to the border. It was a good thing he braided his hair; the wind was strong.

"So far so good." Phenex came up from behind him with a bored expression.

"Not enough excitement for you?" Cecil teased.

"Hardly. This is starting to cut into my gambling time."

Phenex was a frequent gambler and a pretty heavy drinker, although he couldn't hold his liquor and often found himself getting into a brawl or two. He was a loud mouth and was a known smartass, two things that didn't mix well with alcohol. In the end, Noor would have to pick him up and would end up yelling at him the whole way back.

Cecil had accompanied his brother a couple times, the pattern never ceased, neither did they. For all of their fighting, those two were really close. He was envious of their friendship. He didn't have anything like that, instead he drowned himself in books and had his fair share of cat naps.

"No angels?"

Cecil nodded his head. "No, sadly. They look so much like ordinary humans; it's hard enough to find them on their own, let alone in a crowd of people."

Phenex grunted at his reply. "They look like assholes. It can't be that hard."

The Angels were regal in nature and often had ivory skin with silver eyes, but even that varied. Cecil had yet to see one up close, but Phenex had a bad experience with one when he was younger. He refused to talk about it, though he did relay the group with striking details on their looks. To be so close to an angel and to live, it was almost unheard of.

Cecil knew they existed, for if demons did, then angels would as well. That didn't stop fruitless musings, for without having seen one, he had little to go on. Gut instinct would have to be enough.

He cast another glance at his brother and Ose, the lack of action boring him more than he would have imagined. A nap was sounding good.

A gunshot sliced through the calm, eliciting screams from passerby's. People trampled over each other to get away from immediate danger. That was all it took for Cecil to focus.

Noor had a gun in his hand, touching his leg, but otherwise still. Where did the shot come from if not him?

Cecil turned his watch on the Border and found what he was seeking. A lone man lay curled on his side against the dirt ground. It was difficult to tell much of anything from where he was standing, and instead of running away like the rest, he went straight to the stranger.

Cecil wanted to say he was only curious, yet it felt as if a stronger force was pulling him.

He approached and knelt down while pushing black hair from what looked to be a man's face. He was burning up, sweat permeating on his forehead, but Cecil was more worried about the wound. It wasn't on his face, no blood clotting an invisible wound. He turned the body onto its back.

Noor came up behind him then, his overbearing presence impossible to miss.

"I think he's the one," his brother said, voice as flat as the abyss.

Cecil listened to his words, too absorbed in the man in front of him to truly take them in. Blood poured from a wound on his abdomen, small spurts gurgling out in consecutive second after second. Even if he was less-than useful in a battle, his medical skills had won him respect where fighting had not.

A hand found its way to Cecil's arm. It was torrid even on his already warm skin. "You don't have to do this. If he really is the Angel, we can just..."

It was at that comment that Cecil turned towards his brother, eyes alit with a fiery rage. "What? Let him die?"

Noor opened his mouth and closed it. Good. He didn't have time to hear his brother complain. Angel or not, this man did not deserve to die right as he passed the border. Not as long as he was around to do something about it. Death was an unpleasant thing, a once lively body turned lifeless and cold in mere seconds. Even the most vibrant of eyes turned dull when faced with the loss of all one's energies.

Cecil ripped a part of his shirt off and held it to the wound. The man before him grimaced in pain, but stayed unconscious.

Noor's voice floated to his ears and one he didn't recognize, but from the tone, it had to be one of the guards.

"He was trying to sneak in." It was a clipped sentence that left no room for argument.

Cecil pushed down harder on the wound, but the piece of shirt he ripped off was quickly becoming tainted with blood.

"You sound so sure. I have every reason not to believe you." It was a known fact that Noor had an extreme dislike towards any person of authority.

"Did you check to see if he had a traveler's pass on him?"

Cecil needed to take out the bullet. All of his tools were back at the warehouse. Trying to convince his brother would take time, something he had little of. Phenex stood off to the left of Noor, examining the situation and waiting to move. Cecil waved him.

"No, but I can assure you-"

"Ose." Cecil heard his brother's voice sharpen. Ose appeared next to him, head bowed. "Take him in for questioning."

"You don't trust my judgment?" The guard's voice was seething.

"If you have any problems with what I'm doing, you can always tell that to my Father, Dantalion." The guard's face flinched at the mention of his name.

Without another word, the guard turned and walked with Ose, but not without glaring at Cecil on his way, who was too busy helping Phenex get the stranger onto his back.

"Cecil, what are you doing?" Instead of sounding angry, Noor just sounded tired. He was used to Cecil's rescue missions, especially when they were younger, back when baby birds and frogs were his usual go-to for first aid.

"Phenex said he will take him back. Please, brother, we can't let him die." Cecil's words held an edge to them Noor hadn't heard in a long time.

"Once he's stable we have to talk."

He shook his head in agreement. "Even if he's not our angel, he is from the other side. He might know something. Isn't this why we're here? Don't tell me you're going to forget everything, letting hatred cloud out your rational thoughts."

It was a shot in the dark, and he knew that, but he would do anything to prove to Noor that the mysterious man was worth the risk. It was odd, but Cecil wanted to help him, like he was being sucked into the man's gravitational field. He felt a tingling sensation where his fingers had touched the man's face.

"Please." Never asking for anything, always obeying, always understanding, he knew Noor would say yes. It was rare for him to be so selfish.

Noor nodded to Phenex, but failed to notice he had already left with the man on his back.

By the time Cecil had sealed up the wound and cleaned the rest of him up, the man had already started to wake, but only for minutes at a time. The stranger's eyes were glossy and didn't focus on anything for more than a moment before closing once again. This happened for another couple of hours as he slipped from the conscious world to the unconscious one.

He snuck a couple sleeping pills into the man's mouth when they arrived at the warehouse and helped him swallow it with a glass of water, gradually pouring the liquid down. For the most part, the pills were to help him relax, but also because the group wasn't ready for him to awaken.

Cecil often found himself sitting by the man's bedside, staring at the numerous cuts and scars that adorned his body or simply looking at his face. It was impossible to find it in him to believe the man before him was an angel. If he was compared to what Phenex had to say about the one he had encountered, nothing matched.

The stranger's hair color was a dark black, and his eye color was not silver, but a curious gold with flecks of a mesmerizing green. Ivory skin was far from an accurate description; his face may have been pale, but it was far from perfect. A small scar ran down the side of his right cheek and even with the color drained from his face, a somewhat faint gold blended in leaving the smallest trace.

He was more unusual than anyone Cecil had ever met. He was drawn to him, like moths to a flame, bees to nectar, but even those weren't all that good at explaining his true feelings. It was hard to explain, but then again, feelings weren't something anyone understood.

The door to the room opened and Cecil backed away from the man's resting spot. His blue eyes met Phenex's taller frame.

He was about to say hello, but stopped when he noticed the metal cuffs in Phenex's hands.

"What are those for?" It was a stupid question to ask, of course. Noor wasn't taking any chances, which meant he believed him when he said that the man lying in the bed could be their so-called "angel”.

"Noor thinks he will try to run when he wakes up." It was all the explanation Cecil was going to get out of him.

"And what do you think?" Cecil was curious to know. Phenex and Noor often disagreed.

"He'll try to beat the shit out of us." Phenex smiled, obviously amused.

"I have to agree with you on that. Though, it might hurt a bit if he tries."

"No pain killers?"

"No. Just a few sleeping pills. They should ware off by tomorrow morning."

Phenex clipped the cuffs around the man's wrists. He took care in moving his arms around, probably because Cecil was watching his every move. It would become an issue if the wound opened back up.

"I can get Ose in here if you want to, uh, rest."

Cecil hummed, keeping quiet. He had every intention of staying where he was until the stranger woke up. He felt compelled to watch over him, even though he knew Noor would be in here if he didn't get something to eat.

"I'll go get some food. Tell Noor to stop worrying."

Phenex stretched his hands over his head, smiling. "How did you guess?"

"You're here and not at the bar, for one." The two shared a laugh and then Phenex left, stretching his arms behind his back as he went.

Cecil waited a couple more minutes before leaving, his stomach growling nonstop. It had been a long day, and a hot, simmering bowl of soup would calm his nerves along with his aching stomach.

He shoved the food down fast, his appetite more ravenous than he thought. After finishing up the last bits of soup, sleep, something he had ignored since taking in the "angel," was starting to come down on him full force.

Cecil's eyes drooped close, only finding himself waking after almost falling out of his chair, his arms catching the fall in a less-than-elegant fashion. Although the sleep from his body wasn't permanently gone, he felt more awake. He couldn't have fallen asleep for very long, although without any way to tell the time, it was hard to be sure.

As soon as the stranger woke, they had to question him—by all means necessary. If there really was a war on the horizon, the demons had to know. Noor's smuggling business was nothing more than a cover-up, a way to get information on the other side. Well, Cecil would be lying if it was a complete cover-up—his brother thought him ignorant, but it was, for the most part, just an act. Using the carts, Noor sent over their people along with a mind-numbing drug that anyone who came in contact with became mindless corpses, only fixated on their next high. Anyone taking it turned aggressive and obsessive on stealing. It was a tactic their Father had thought up, he was positive.

They reminded Cecil of the Unclean, but a more intelligent version, if only by a scant amount.

Cecil shivered involuntarily at the thought. He wasn't a fan of war, but if it was their people or the Angel's, the obvious answer would be their own. It was no secret that the higher ups in Oratio wanted the demons wiped out, but why they were biding their time was beyond him. Unless they had some sort of weapon, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Exitium was ruled by what people called The Crown Princes of Hell. They took residency at the highest point of the mountain, also the safest. Even if war broke out, the main demons would be safe atop their thrones.

He had to stop thinking about such things. If they could figure out what the angels were up to, if that man had any info on the inner workings of the city, the war could be stopped before it began.

Cecil pushed his chair back and brushed off his shirt, scowling when he found a splash of broth on it. Changing clothes would have to wait till later.

It wasn't safe to leave the stranger alone for too long, so while Noor and the others planned out their next moves, Cecil would continue to watch over their captive. He scrunched his face at the word.

The walk back to the room was quiet and uneventful. Cecil took his usual spot on the floor next to the bed and sighed. Saying he was lacking sleep was an understatement.

Someone must have uncovered the black-haired captive, so Cecil took it upon himself to cover him back up. He pulled the blue sheet up and let it fall right below his cuffed hands. They looked tight and constricting, the skin around them becoming red and swollen. He ran his a finger over the red spot, frowning. Cerulean blue lifted up to check his face.

His eyes widened in surprise at what he saw and hesitantly peered forward. The man's eyes were open, a scintillating gold and green met Cecil's ice blue.

He was awake. Even he didn't move to get up, his biting gaze pierced through Cecil's and left him speechless. The rage and loathing pointed at him was enough to make Cecil shake in fear, but he refused to move. Instead, with all of the courage he could muster, he stared back at him, gaze never wavering.

The pull he felt towards this man was undeniable now. Even though he was scared, another sensation took over him: longing to know, understand. The feeling of familiarity was hard to ignore.

"Who are you?" Cecil whispered.

But the man never answered, those auric orbs never looking away from his own.

It was in that moment that, with a thrumming heat flowing through his skin, Cecil realized everything was about to change.