The angel quivers in my grasp as I hold her by the neck.
“You shouldn’t be here, pretty thing,” I breathe. She whimpers when I let my fangs graze the gentle curve of her ear as I whisper into it. “This is my realm.”
I savor the fear in her eyes as my clawed thumb strokes her neck. Her lips move as if to speak, but no words escape. A pity. Begging can be fun.
“I have always wanted to defile an angel. It’s so hard up above, where the light shines and you are surrounded by your fellows.
“But here? No great light reaches down here to shield you. Even your halo’s glow is so dim and drowned in darkness, barely able to extend beyond your body.”
I run my finger along the shining circle of power and control she wears.
“I’ve never touched one of these before, you know. Ordinarily they burn those like us, but your power is so distant here, where my shadows fill and strengthen me…”
My words trail away as something catches my attention. My fingers trace over the same spot on her halo again.
A small flaw. An irregularity in what is meant to be a perfect circle. Difficult to see but apparent to the touch. She winces slightly as I press on that point.
There is no mistaking that the ring is bent.
“Ooh, what happened here, damaged little angel?”
Defiance flares into her eyes as they lock with mine. For an instant. And then the pressure of my finger in the crook of her halo’s bend sends a shiver through her body and makes her eyelids flutter in a terribly un-angelic way.
“Who did this to you?” I ask, curious.
“I-I did,” she gasps, speaking at last, panting with apparent effort as I continue to probe her crease with insistent pressure from my fingers.
“Good girl…” I murmur in breathy praise for her response, pressing that spot more firmly until it elicits angelic whines.
Did the halo’s bend deepen just a bit from that pressure, or is that my imagination? In either case, it seems there may be more than one way to use a halo to compel the light-bound.
“Now why would an angel bend her own halo?”
The angel’s lips tighten. She says nothing.
I press harder until I feel the halo give, just a bit, worsening the bend.
She screams, her whole body shaking, tears welling up in her eyes. I give her a moment to compose herself enough to speak.
“I wanted,” she pants, blinking to clear the tears, “to offer mercy.”
“Oh? I thought you types were all about bringing ‘mercy’ to the poor unwashed masses?”
“Mercy for the worthy redeemed,” she responds. “Justice for the sinful.” A graze of my claw beckons more from her. “The girl was an unbeliever, but she deserved better than retribution.”
“So you bent your halo to allow yourself to bend the rules. How delicious!”
I lick her face, extending my inky tongue to taste her from jaw to cheek.
“Ah, that also explains how you came here even though you would never be permitted to descend so deep on your own, hmm?”
I take a moment to savor the salty-sweet tang of angel sweat and tears—such a rare delicacy—before continuing.
“That doesn’t quite tell me why, though, does it? What would possibly compel you to visit a High Demon’s demesne all alone and so vulnerable?”
The angel shivers. She pries her eyes open with visible struggle and speaks, her words halting.
“The archangel…once told me…that if my faith wavers…to be victim to True Evil…or to even look upon one of you and see it…would kill my doubt and set my mind aright.”
I cannot help my laugh at that foolish notion. “Did it work, then? Do you feel ‘right’ now that you are in my clutches?”
My fingers quit their teasing just long enough for me to wrap my tongue around her halo in loops which I make sure touch and grind into her delicate bend.
She cries out once more, body convulsing, arms involuntarily wrapping around my body for support.
Her halo also shivers and flexes with the motion of my long tongue snaking around it.
I hear her breathe “yes” in response to my question at the exact moment it shatters.