Seraphs
“The words echoed across the buildings. “Too late to change the course of this night.”Eli swore, or perhaps prayed. He lifted his flamethrower and hefted a plastic bag of baptismal water.I followed his aim up, into the black sky. Above the town hovered a leathern, seared shape, crackling with dark energies, wings outspread, clawed hands reaching wide. Its naked body was muscular and strong, but disfigured, flesh puckered and scarred, wings featherless, the skin between the bones thin and ridged ...with scar tissue. It was a huge being, power rippling across ruined flesh like black lightning. Yet its face was wholly, flawlessly exquisite, as if carved from a slab of perfect white marble. The face of a seraph, created by the Most High to be entrancing, captivating. Not a Fallen Watcher. Something much worse.I almost cursed, but swallowed down the words before it could hear and think it was summoned. It was a Major Power, and I knew—I knew—it was Forcas. One of the true Fallen. A seraph who had gone his—its—own way.MoreLess
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