Hell: Bargain

They went back to Heaven, stopped long enough to give Valiel Delilah's sword and left immediately after. Their sudden appearance in the middle of Varaxador's temple was quite a commotion for the priests.
"What does that mean?" asked a gruff voice that Delilah identified as Gerniam's. "Guardian?"
"Antonian is dead," she said succinctly. "He was the traitor."
"How do you know?"
Delilah had a brief laugh.
"Because Antonian liked to brag and he told me everything since he thought I would die."
"You killed him?" asked Gerniam incredulously.
She shrugged.
"I couldn't let him wander off, could I? Anyway, just thought I would tell you. I'd appreciate if you passed the word to Nymrial."
"How do we know to believe you?"
She grinned.
"You don't. By the way, I need your vampire blade. Could I borrow it?"
Gerniam and Tyrael's mouth went agape.
"You never told me about that!" accused the Archangel.
"How do you know we have a vampire blade?" the priest asked warily at the same time.
"How I know is of no importance. I need it."
"Why should we give it to you?"
She smiled sweetly.
"Just to show me that you are not all on Antonian's side."
The blow hit home and Gerniam winced. He had a move of the hand and an apprentice brought a wooden box. Delilah opened it and took the reddish grey short sword in it, giving back the box. She examined it and smiled.
"Perfect. Thank you, Gerniam. I'll do my best to give it back to you."
"Where are you going?" called the priest.
"Off to war!"
And she disappeared, along with Tyrael.
The Archangel was scowling reprovingly but Delilah seemed not to notice. As soon as they reached Heaven, she rushed inside Tyrael's house and asked her old clothes to Valiel. The young Angel had somehow found the time to clean them and she thanked him with a smile. She passed them on rapidly, buckled her belt of pentacles and slid the two short blades in her boots. Tyrael was waiting for her outside.
"The Solar Crypt?" he said.
She nodded and they left again.

Delilah had had no doubt about finding Cinnabar - and even Yawni - waiting for her, but Jorram's presence was a surprise. She looked at him none-too-gently.
"Give me one reason for not getting rid of you," she said hoarsely.
"I didn't betray you, Delilah!" he protested. "Yes, it's true, I was sometimes directing Yawni's behaviour but when he decided to help you in the demon realm, I didn't stop him!"
"Why should he listen to you rather than to me? I am Daughter of the Rovelshes!"
"And I am the Demon of the Rovelshes," he replied with a shrug.
She unexpectedly laughed.
"And what about the food in my saddlebags?"
"He had put a spell on it to bind you to Him."
"Why did you help me against Him?"
"You are Daughter of the Rovelshes," he said simply and she understood.
She turned to Tyrael, who already knew what was coming - and didn't like it the least.
"You have to stay here. I mean, you have to go back to Heaven. Please keep an eye on Shela and Rshkiel for me."
He nodded and said:
"Be careful."
He grimaced.
"What a stupid thing to say! How can I tell you to be careful knowing what you're going to do? Don't surrender to Him, Delilah, and try to stay alive. I'd miss you."
She smiled hesitantly.
"I have an idea for getting rid of my demon blood," she whispered. "It probably won't work but... there's a dim hope. I'll try, Tyrael, I promise you that I'll try."
"That... that would be wonderful, Delilah..."
"Don't hope too much," she said hastily.
He nodded painfully.
"I know. Go now, because if you wait anymore, I won't be able to let you go."
"I'm going. Wish me luck."
"You know I do."
He closed the eyes and took one step back, going back to Heaven. Delilah sighed and turned to Jorram.
"Don't stay with me like a lost puppy!" she exclaimed angrily. "He will kill you if He finds you with me."
"With your permission - or without - I prefer to take my chance with you."
"Your chance? What chance? Your only chance is doom! Oblivion, like Pelimarkodon because I crushed his soul stone."
"Mine is in Yawni. By the way, I hated when your friend Angel healed him. It hurt horribly."
"I guess that's why he bit me. Anyway, you can't defy Him with - or for - me."
"Yes, I can. I'm tired of His lies and ambitions. Baaladamon rebelled against his father, I can rebel against my prince."
"You can but I am no powerful demon knight like Ellÿs. But after all, it's your doom, do as you wish."
Jorram grinned and she half-shrugged.
"Can we go now? And don't complain to me if you're hurting because of whatever weapon I may carry."
"I didn't complain," he said with dignity, "even though I am already hurting."
"Too bad," muttered Delilah.
She left the Solar Crypt, heading for the Lunar Crypt, followed closely by Cinnabar who was rubbing his nose against her shoulder at each occasion.

Delilah had no doubt about what she would find once she would step in the portal. She took a deep breath, touched quickly her demon knight's medallion, then the hilt of the Guardian Sabre, and stepped in the portal.
Baal was sitting on a chair looking suspiciously like a throne, His fingers entwined, thoughtfully and patiently watching the portal. As Delilah appeared in front of Him, He didn't move at first, then stirred with a strange light in the depths of His dark eyes.
"Delilah..."
His voice wasn't higher than a whisper, soft as a gentle breeze, and Delilah couldn't help but shiver at the intensity He could put in this one word, her name, almost making her forget everything. She narrowed the eyes and drew the Guardian Sabre.
"Beware, Baal! This time, for the last time, I tell you: I am no bride to you. You waited for me to recognise and accept my heritage; in this day, strong and sure, I stand in front of you and refuse your lies, your temptations and your cause. I am free and stand away from your falsehoods."
Delilah's tone was very formal and everybody understood she was defying Baal. The demon prince kept His calm.
"The Guardian Sabre. What a pity. I thought it had been lost."
"Well, it has been found," replied Delilah flatly, her knuckles almost white on the hilt.
"Sheathe your weapon, Delilah. I am not going to fight you now and there is no use for you to be in pain needlessly."
Delilah made no pretence of refusing His advice and put back the sword in its scabbard before defiantly crossing her arms on her chest. Baal's eyes lingered on Jorram and He remarked mildly:
"So you're showing your true colours at least. You betrayed me when the rovelsh gave to Delilah the weapons she needed to escape me and now you stand by her side."
Jorram shrugged.
"I was almost her protective Demon. I thought I would stay so."
"No protective Demon protects his knight against the demon prince."
"She is Daughter of the Rovelshes: she is under my protection and so she shall remain, even if she is standing against you."
"So it's not a fight about Good and Evil, dear Delilah: it's a fight about loyalty. Shall we see who is loyal to you? Here is my proposition and you can accept - or refuse - it without fearing the doom that was promised to you if you accepted anything from me: a contest with a champion for each of us - except, naturally, if you have nobody loyal enough to you able to stand against me, or willing to."
"Who will be your champion, Baal?" she retorted, not deigning to notice His irony.
Baal didn't answer in words; He just raised the hand, still smiling, not even turning the head.
Rashiel stepped forward and declared:
"I will be."
Some Demons protested at once: a fallen Angel, standing for them? It was unconceivable! Baal frowned and silenced them with few words:
"He has the right to stand for me, indeed! He's the only one who managed to bring me Delilah and to capture two Angels! None of you did so and some of you even helped Delilah against me."
Jorram somehow managed to look utterly unconcerned.
"You told me to obey her," grunted K'Jox, taking - rightfully so - the comment for him.
"But not against me! Your first loyalty is to me! I am your master!"
"Actually, you're not," said Delilah. "Their only master is Lucifer."
"Lucifer doesn't care. I do. I am the master of them all!"
"For the moment, you are a child having a tantrum," she said coldly, "and it's very unbecoming."
"A child?" yelled Baal, both incredulous and outraged.
"Shut up, Baal, you're breaking my ears and Lucifer is growling in frustration," said a newcomer.
"Hello, Verrier," said Delilah calmly.
She had recognised him immediately: he had allied with Ellÿs against Baaladamon's father - the demon prince by then. Verrier had been a friend of Baaladamon and Pelimarkodon, which was one of the reasons of Baal's wariness toward him: Verrier was a powerful Demon and he was, surprisingly enough, quite a pacifist. He nodded in Delilah's direction to greet her and looked thoughtfully at Baal. Spite was almost dripping from his face.
"Such a whining baby," he said disgustedly.
Delilah had to bite her lip for not laughing. Finally, Angels and Demons were alike: always fighting for nothing. Unable to resist the temptation, she said it aloud, just before Baal could retort to Verrier. Baal remained open-mouthed in front of the insult.
"Delilah," He growled. "You are going too far..."
She seemed to consider.
"I'll agree on something: the Angels are quite worse on certain things. They're like Ordreth's priests on some aspects: they'll do anything for me to find the venom before the antidote, to the point of changing the content of the beaker in my hand. Except that with the Angels, there's no antidote: I'm always doomed, no matter what."
"You know it then! Why do you persist to ally with them?"
"I don't ally with them. I stand against you, that's different."
"Why? Since they doom you anyway?"
"Because, Baal, you see my doom as the aim of my life. They see it as a punishment, in what they are right."
Verrier vaguely nodded and Baal was reminded of his presence.
"Is Verrier your champion?" He asked quite venomously.
"Tell me who's yours and I'll answer," she replied defiantly.
"I told you: Rashiel is."
Delilah slowly put her hand on the hilt of her sword with almost a hungry smile.
"Then I think I will be my own champion," she declared.
"She really hates you, Rashiel," Verrier commented admiringly.
Rashiel shrugged half-carelessly, half-sadly, as if he hadn't been able to hide all his sadness.
"Stop that!" she hissed. "I know you don't care!"
He smiled, very gently, almost tenderly.
"It confuses you so..."

Delilah drew her sword.
"Come here and fight!" she spat between her teeth.
"My, my, isn't it a cavalier way to defy me? I would have hoped for something like: 'Stand forth and dare confront me!' Think of it: the confrontation of the century maybe!"
"Precisely!" exclaimed a new voice, slightly out of breath. "So stand forth and dare confront me!"
Delilah refused to turn the head. It couldn't be, it was only a nightmare! She had done so much, tried so hard... Why would it fail now? A hand took the sword from her failing and shaking grip and she didn't resist; she knew the touch.
"No..." she moaned softly. "You said you wouldn't come..."
"I said I wouldn't come if you were to ally with the Demons. But for the chance to reduce Rashiel to ashes, I'd risk Hell a thousand times! I'm sorry, Dee."
Delilah finally turned the head and wasn't surprised to see that the Guardian Sabre was curved again and that the hilt was now in the shape of two wings, with like her face in the middle.
"Rshkiel, please, no..."
"You hate him, Dee, but I hate him for longer and for better reasons, I'm afraid. Precedence's mine."
"Rshkiel," purred Baal. "I'm so glad to see you at last! Rashiel, we finally succeeded to trap him! I will have to reward you properly."
"I live only to serve you," replied Rashiel easily.
"Grovelling slave!" growled Delilah.
She glimpsed a brief gleam of pure hatred in Rashiel's eyes and she knew somehow it wasn't aimed at her - nor even Rshkiel.
"Disgusting traitor," she added in a breath.
"So, Rshkiel, what shall it be? Shall we make the world tremble under our blows, shall we destroy everything, every life we love and care for?" taunted Rashiel.
"Or shall I immediately take hold of your soul and make of you my most obedient puppet?" continued Baal hungrily.
"Or shall I send you to oblivion in the next following minutes?" retorted Rshkiel.
Verrier looked up in exasperation, rolling the eyes, then looked at Delilah and saw the panic in her eyes.
"Now, now, children," he intervened. "Please behave. Those threats are ridiculous and you know it perfectly. If it really is the confrontation of the century, as Rashiel put it, then everybody will laugh at you later when the bards will sing about the encounter. And, believe me, I will make it sound even more terrible."
Baal, Rashiel and Rshkiel all looked with surprise at Verrier, blinking, as if they had truly forgotten his existence. He smiled engagingly at them, a smile - unfortunately or purposely - revealing huge white fangs.
"Oh, Verrier, I didn't see you," said Rshkiel.
"Well, I saw you and you really look - and sound - like a petty child. To your credit, the two others are even worse."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Rshkiel said cautiously and quite dubiously.
"You shouldn't," he replied coldly. "They are so pitiful that you should be ashamed just to answer them."
Rshkiel blinked again then suddenly smiled.
"I missed your biting tone, Verrier. How has it been for you lately?"
Rashiel raised the hands in mock despair.
"Speaking of health now! Why not weather, while you're at it? Social talk, it's even more boring than any speech of Mettatron!"
"Better still than any of Vileyam's," muttered Delilah, still trying to find a way to send Rshkiel away.
"True, very true," agreed Rashiel.
"May we resume our discussion, Rshkiel and I?" asked Verrier courteously. "I did not have the honour of hearing any speech from either Mettatron or Vileyam, so I can only say that social talk is still literature compared to your childish insults and defies from earlier."
"Alright, then in my best chivalry tone, Verrier, I tell you: stand aside or perish! Does it suit you better?"
"You were the one insisting on formality earlier," Verrier pointed out calmly. "I apologise if I seem excessively trying to be consistent."
"To be trying, you are particularly trying," muttered Baal.
"Doing my best, Baal. As always for you," he added in a fairly accurate imitation of Rashiel's servile tone.
"That nonsense is getting on my nerves," grunted Baal.
"Good," intervened Delilah. "Here's some sense: if any of you tries anything, I'll kill Rshkiel myself."

Somehow, a reddish grey blade was now pressed against Rshkiel's throat and Delilah's hand was not trembling.
"She's bluffing," said Baal. "She can't kill her brother."
"Is it a question or is it purely rhetoric? I won't hesitate, Baal."
"Go on. Why should I care? I wanted to kill him also."
"Not with a vampire blade held by me. So, do you really want me to annihilate the general of your non-existing secret section?"
"I'm impressed. How did you guess?"
"Antonian may be naïve, but Rashiel is not an imbecile. He wouldn't have told him if the section really existed: Rashiel doesn't trust anybody, sometimes not even himself."
"Well reasoned. So where do you go from here?"
"A question that came back every so often: why me? Not the whiny one, the genuinely curious question. I don't have anything special for you to be so interested in me. Then I noticed your interest for Rshkiel and I thought I was just the bait to lure him. But not exactly: you needed Rshkiel, true, but because of me. So, once again, I was back there: why me? It took me time to understand it all, Baal, you can be proud of you. I am the only one able to hear both Demons and Angels, because I'm the only one to have demon and angelic blood running in my veins. So I’m also the only one able to carry both angelic and demon blades."
"Well, my bride-to-be has to be someone special," shrugged Baal.
"You mean: your slave. You needed Rshkiel's blood to have a perfect hold on me, since we already share the same demon blood, long-lost brother. Thus the nice vampire blade you managed to find not long ago; using Zubaran's priest, I trust."
"Congratulations, my love and slave-to-be. How did you know for the vampire blade?"
"Your own book told me."
"Ah!" said Baal, sounding chagrined. "A regrettable mistake. Anyway. Now what, Delilah? It seems to me we have reached a deadlock. You can't escape me if you stay on this world and Heaven is closed to you."
"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you," smirked Delilah. "Raziel is someone very sensible and I'm sure he would see the necessity of the situation. There's not harm in helping a friend, is there?"
"Then what, Delilah, I ask again?"
"This, maybe."
In a heartbeat, Rshkiel disappeared and Delilah crossed the arms on her chest, looking quite smug, her vampire blade curiously vanished.

"Where is he?"
"Back where he came from."
"Where?" Baal yelled.
"Where you can't reach him. But I'm still here. After all, you are after my powers. Will you send your champion against me or will you come yourself?" she mocked Him.
"And may I ask you what weapon you will use against me?"
It almost seemed as if Delilah hadn't even noticed that Rshkiel still had the Guardian Sabre when she had sent him away. She smiled, unperturbed.
"I don't need any special weapon, Baal: I already have everything I need, either against you or Rashiel. My usual weapons as a Guardian are perfectly enough against Rashiel. Now that I know what exactly you want form me, I also know what to do to deprive you of it and I need no fancy weapon. My demon blade will be fairly enough."
"It will doom you and leave you in my reach."
"But it will deprive me of my angelic blood, which is what you crave for. I don't care to be doomed if you don't have what you want so much. I still have my faith, Baal, and if I'm doomed while you fail, then I'll have succeeded."
"Delilah, you're asking for troubles... if not for war."
"Before that, you should maybe wonder who is on your side and who's on mine."
"You're in the middle of my realm, you are at my mercy."
"Look around you, Baal. Three Demons - I mean, two Demons and a fallen Angel - and only the fallen Angel is standing by your side."
Baal looked at Verrier and Jorram with a sort of surprise.
"Well, Jorram, did the rovelsh affect your soul stone? I thought we were supposed to be soulless."
Jorram shrugged carelessly. Baal didn't even look at Verrier; He knew for long that the powerful Demon had never been on His side.
"So you have allies from my side, Delilah. Will that be enough?"
"It certainly was for Ellÿs," she retorted. "They didn't put their marks on me, but I know they will follow me. And don't forget something, Baal: I have friends among Angels also."
"Rashiel, where is Rshkiel?" asked Baal without looking at the fallen Angel.
"Without verification, I'd say in Heaven. I should have guessed earlier. I heard the voice of little Shela; I thought it was because of Delilah's presence, but it might have been because they found out for Rshkiel as well. Vileyam is good - or nosy - enough to discover that, especially with the help of his ferret Jyiel."
"I should have known that you knew more about Shela than you claimed," muttered Delilah.
"I knew Shela before my fall, I just didn't know it was her until I saw her with you."
"I would have thought her voice was quite unmistakable," said Delilah lightly.
"True. But listening to my former friends is not my favourite pastime."
He was looking at her with a strange air and if she hadn't known him better, she would have thought that he was expressing some apologies. His eyes, fixed on her, had like a gleam of tenderness, deep and almost painful. She clenched her teeth: she hated that game of Rashiel, confusing her so. She wondered briefly why she was not denouncing him to Baal, so that they would fight and maybe annihilate each other. She knew of Rashiel's hate of Baal and it was probably even deeper than Rshkiel's for Rashiel. This was not feigned, but she couldn't tell for the feelings he pretended to have for her. Sometimes, it sounded too true to be a lie.
"Go, quickly, because frankly, I can't bear anymore to see you always go away..."
With this sentence alone, he had been able to unsettle her, to provoke a rush of compassionate feelings for him. Even now, as she was remembering his words, she could still hear his voice, low and sad, as if by sending her away, he was depriving himself of his sun and light. Even now, just thinking of his words, she could feel her heart going to him, even though she knew all the trickeries he had done, all the treacheries he had committed.
She considered again the idea of throwing Baal and Rashiel at each other, but sadly, she renounced. Even though he was impossible and irritating, Rashiel could also be likeable. She couldn't help but like him, even if she hated him also, sometimes to the point of being willing to kill him on the spot. She knew she would weep for him were he to die.
Would she weep also for Baal? She didn't know. She looked at Him. There had been a time when a word from Him could send shivers down her spine; had it been because of the demon blood they shared? She found out that now she could look at Him and feel nothing. Looking at Rashiel provoked something: hatred or compassion, a sudden rush of fondness, something. Looking at Him provoked only indifference. He had no more power on her now. She knew He had never felt anything for her and her last fear vanished like snow under the sun: His dark love couldn't frighten her, since He had never loved her. After all, Demons couldn't love!

She could stand easily against Him, defy Him and taunt Him; His grip on her was so loose now that she could be free in a shrug. The feeling was exhilarating.
"You know," she said casually, still looking at Baal, "I'm glad that you don't feel anything for me but common greed. It's so much easier for me to deal with."
Now why on earth had she said this last sentence? He had no need in knowing it. Looking at Him, she suddenly understood the warning of Irlenuit’s priests, so long ago:
"Silence may be a greater weapon than a sword."
By talking, she had given Him a weapon against her.
He slowly shook the head.
"You are so wrong, Delilah," He said softly.
He stepped toward her; she made a move toward her belt of pentacles but didn't finish it. It was useless against the demon prince: no pentacle could affect Him. His arms closed around her and she rejoiced in the fact that her will was still hers.
"Can't you feel it?" He murmured. "True, I want your power, but if I don't have it but have you, I'll be content. I wanted to offer you the world, to revenge you of all those who despised you during all your life, who made you miserable and unhappy, but if you tell me that you don't care, the war will stop before having even begun."
"You wanted to punish them for their behaviour toward me?" she repeated, quite incredulously.
"Naturally. Do you think I'm blind? I was the only one to give you any tenderness after your mother's death; I was the only one to be always there for you, to never turn you away. Did I ever fail you?"
She thought a moment and shook the head.
"No, never," she admitted.
"But all I could give you was not enough, I could see it. You craved for more, you wanted at least gratitude from your kind: you wanted them to accept you. I wanted to bend them to my will so they would have seen exactly who you were and what they had missed."
"I stood for them my whole life, Baal, I still stand for them. Acceptance or not, I shall still fight for them until my last breath, until my last blood drop. I will never accept to see them broken if I can avoid it."
"Very well, love," He agreed soothingly. "Will you be content with my love only? Will my tenderness erase all those years of sadness and tears? If yes, Delilah, if yes, my happiness will be beyond everything I have ever known and peace will be for those you protect, no matter how undeserving they are. If yes, the restless Demons will calm down and never show themselves for as long as you will ask me."
Delilah craned her neck to look at Him. He looked serious and sincere. She contemplated the idea: she could make Him swear on His blood or His soul stone - oaths He would honour - and thus she could end the war even before it had begun to ravage anything. It was tempting. It required not so much: her consent and she knew Baal's magic would make her happy of her fate anyway. She would be no more than a puppet, than a slave in His hands, but she could save humankind for a very long time. It required only her sacrifice. Even if Baal didn't break her will, she knew she could play the part, even though she would be separated from Tyrael forever.
Everything was still around her. She could feel Baal's tension in His arms around her. She could also feel Rashiel's near-panic and it was the reaction of the fallen Angel that made her react: this was the Bargain it had been spoken of from the beginning, this was what the priestess of Shuqra had warned her against. It was the Demon's sweet temptation, the answer to her wishes and her doom at the same time, but if in appearance it would save humankind, it would probably doom it sooner or later afterwards.
Nevertheless, the idea of her doom seemed quite far and unimportant. Was she back under Baal's influence? She couldn't think so, even though He had just reaffirmed His love to her. His proposition wasn't so overwhelming as some had been some time before. She could still think of the other opportunity without feeling sick. But then, once again, to save humankind without shedding blood was very tempting... Then why was Rashiel so panicked?
She turned the head and looked at the fallen Angel. All his masks had fallen and he was fixing her desperately; eyes wide-opened in a mix of fear and hope. His face was as white as death and he clutched his weapon as if he would strike her as soon as she agreed. Their eyes locked and his begged her to refuse. What nameless horror lay behind her answer?
She knew not how to proceed once she would refuse: she had had no idea before the Bargain and answering 'no' to it would bring her to the same position. But then, she still didn't know what her answer would be. Rashiel's fear was powerful, but the temptation and Baal's love were even more powerful yet. The idea she could at last stop fighting and rest was almost overwhelming. She was still pondering when a voice said in her head, Rashiel's voice, filled with a despair she had never heard before:
"Remember Tyrael and your love for him! Remember what he told you!"
"Don't surrender to Him."
No matter what. How could Rashiel know? It didn't matter. She had to be strong, again. She felt so weary, she so wanted to rest...
"No!" Rashiel protested, urgency growing in his voice. "Delilah, please... It's beyond horror... You can't even imagine what will happen if you accept!"
"I'm so tired, I don't want to fight anymore..." she replied mentally.
"I know. Hold on just a little longer, that's all."
She took a deep breath and found the reason why he was so pressing:
"You just want me to kill Baal so you can take His place."
She had the impression of feeling Rashiel's heart sinking very deeply in a dark place of utter despair. He said gloomily, his voice getting passionate and pleading as he was speaking:
"It's true, but I more want you to preserve the world. Delilah, please believe me! If I ever said the truth in my life, this is now! I was an Angel before, I can't want to destroy the world! I swear to you that it will happen if you surrender to Him."
She closed her eyes and gathered all the strength she had left.
"No," she said aloud and the single word was the hardest she had ever pronounced.
Baal staggered and released His embrace on her. His face was mournful and, in His eyes, she could see that He had never envisaged the possibility she could spurn Him.
"I've lost you forever then," He said and His voice contained such an ageless pain and loneliness that she wanted to retract her word and change her decision.
She found out she could not. The dices were thrown: the Bargain had been refused.