The last battle

Delilah was pushing Cinnabar down the Mounts of Moen, not using her usual path but rather cutting through a rather steep slope. Cinnabar didn't like to be pushed, so he snorted to show his disagreement and then took the plunge. Yawni was running smoothly by his side and Jorram was following by teleporting himself.
They were already in the Plains of Moen that Baal's army had not yet finished to gather near the Demons' realm's entry - maybe thanks to Rashiel who seemed so overcome by the events that he kept giving contrary orders. Delilah continued to ride west, getting a bit away from the mountains to have space for manoeuvres, but also being careful not to come too close to the Volnar Trail.
She felt like a pricking down her neck and turned around swiftly, ducking as a spell fell on her. She jumped to the ground and shouted:
"Baal, keep your minions away from me! Remember how I treated the last ones you sent me!"
The demon prince did as if He hadn't heard and waves of Demons came down the mountains' side. Delilah intended to stand firm, even if with only Cinnabar, Yawni and Jorram by her.
"Jorram, go away. My spells are not selective and you could be killed. Go back with Verrier and the others."
"Good luck, little mistress," murmured the young Demon, who knew better than arguing.
He disappeared and Delilah put her hand on her belt of pentacles, waiting for the moment to use it. Rashiel had told her to hold a little longer and she somehow knew she could trust him on that: she had to hold until the angelic armies arrived. She knew she could do that and after, she could rest.
Baal - and Rashiel with Him - teleported Himself on a hill nearby Delilah. Then the demon prince answer her defy:
"You will be mine, Delilah, no matter what!"
"Then we will meet only in death, if nobody takes my soul before you."
"I will destroy anyone who tries to keep you from me," replied Baal quite calmly.
Delilah felt some new energy run through her veins and she straightened up proudly.
"Then send your Demons against me and I will welcome them warmly!" she shouted.
Baal only answered with a wave of minor Demons, the nearest to her. She had a bad grin and activated her belt as soon as they were near enough. They all fell screaming but other waves kept coming at her. She used all the spells she knew, all the incantations she could think of to keep her belt burning, wasting precious energy in the process.

Night fell and someone lighted the hillside. Delilah turned weary eyes in the direction of the first lights. She saw Baal and, by His side, Rashiel; they seemed closer than they really were and she could see Rashiel's burning and feverish eyes fixed on her. She then had the certitude he had lighted the battlefield so she could see. She looked at him, trying to lock her eyes with his and when she succeeded, she had a simple nod that told him more than words.
Baal probably had seen her tiredness for He asked:
"Do you have enough now, Delilah? Are you ready to surrender to me, to call me your lord and master?"
If He had thought about it for thousands years, He couldn't have found a better way to give her a new regain of energy.
"Never!" she hissed, her eyes blazing with fury.
"As you wish," shrugged Baal. "My victory will be even sweeter."
Delilah looked around her. She would have wanted to be able to say to Baal that He was over-confident, but what she saw rather told her that she was foolish to hope to last.
"Let me see the sunbeams one last time," she murmured as a prayer for whoever would care to hear it.
The angelic armies hadn't come and she didn't expect them to come during night. Night was the realm of Demons, never were they stronger than during night. No sane Angel would try to defy them at twilight. With the first lights of dawn, maybe the Angels would come. She tried to persuade herself but her hopes weren't very high.
"Give up, Delilah. Your Holy Fire won't keep us at bay much longer now!"
"It doesn't matter, I have other ideas to get rid of you," she replied calmly.
"Your energy isn't infinite."
"The number of your Demons isn't either."
The Demons didn't venture near her, wishing to escape her belt of pentacles. They were attacking her mind and she had to protect herself more actively by now, which made her burn more energy. She would have turned off her belt, except that they would try the physical assault as soon as it wasn't burning anymore, so she had only reduced it to the minimum possible: activating it again was more energy-consuming. Even though it was folly for her to think she would be able to last the night, facing alone an army of Demons, she wouldn't give up.
"Tyrael, you promised..." she moaned softly after a particularly painful blow from a major Demon.
Rashiel's sharp eyes were fixed on her; she could feel them. He was not taking part to the fight; he was remaining by Baal's side, attentive watcher.
"Hold on a little longer," said his voice in her head.
"How am I supposed to?" she asked, growing desperate. "I won't be able to resist until sunlight!"
"Hold on a little longer," he repeated as if he knew something she didn't.
The Demons - or Baal, or Rashiel - had decided to give her a moment to rest - or maybe Baal wanted to revise His strategy of sending His soldiers to her like ants to be crushed. Minor Demons were less than nothing for Him and she didn't think she had managed to touch any major Demon. She almost wished she hadn't sent Jorram away; maybe together they could have brought the Demons standing by her side together, maybe against Baal's Demons.
She shook the head to clear it. Dreaming would lead her nowhere. She eyed warily her adversaries, leaning slightly against Cinnabar. She found some food in the saddlebags, probably put here by Jorram while she was in Heaven. She gratefully ate some bites and apologised to Cinnabar because she had nothing for him. Immediately, a hay bale appeared in front of Cinnabar; Yawni had a yelp of protest and fresh, raw meat appeared before him. Delilah looked at it lengthily and thought:
"Rashiel, can you hear me?"
"I can always hear you, little mistress," replied Rashiel's voice, filled with sadness.
"Why are you helping me?"
"Because it's my fate, I guess," and she could almost feel him shrug. "Your fate was to stand in front of Him and mine was to be cast away by my brothers so I could help you in your task."
"But you are on His side," she objected.
"Ah, little mistress, who can tell whose side I'm really on?" he said and it was almost the old, infuriating Rashiel talking.
"Will I win?" she asked brutally.
"Probably not," he admitted. "But you knew that already, long before starting it."
She didn't answer. There was no answer anyway.

It occurred to her that Baal didn't want her to be killed. She had turned off her burning belt and Yawni was keeping an eye on the Demons while she was resting. Half the night went by and still the Demons didn't move. Baal was giving her time to think so that she would realise that her defeat was obvious. He wanted her to bow to Him: He didn't care for a dead adversary.
"I will hold on and stand up," she murmured. "You can give me two centuries to reconsider, I will still hold on, even if you steal any will I might have left, even if you destroy every hope I still have. I am the last Guardian and even if this is my last battle, I will not step back! I owe it to their memory!"
As if He had heard her defy, He gave the signal to resume the fight. Sighing, she waited for some foolish minor Demons to come closer before activating her belt.
Resting had helped her. She still felt weary to the bone but most of her energy was back. She just lacked the will to use it. She couldn't concentrate. Her thoughts kept flickering to Rashiel, Tyrael, the angelic armies who were not coming, Rshkiel and Rashiel again...
During a short break, she wondered mentally:
"Rashiel, why am I so thinking of you when I should be thinking of my own fate?"
The fact was utterly disturbing: Rashiel had betrayed his former brothers, had betrayed her, yet he had also helped her; without him, she would have surrendered to Baal. He had let her see and understand why he had been cast away, all the evil he had in him, yet, instead of being repulsed, she felt for him; the strange bonds between them were stronger than ever. Sometime during their past meetings, he had dropped his usual mask of carelessness and infuriating behaviour. He was truer than he had ever been and didn't lie to her anymore. She even thought that he genuinely cared for her.
Rashiel's answer took so long to come that she thought he wasn't listening to her anymore and she internally panicked. Then, with a tone oddly reluctant, he said:
"It's because you are becoming what you should have been for ages: a true Angel of Compassion."
Delilah was tempted to laugh in spite of her precarious situation but then she heard the echo of what seemed years ago:
"And you'll have wings, soft, white wings carrying you wherever you want to go and you'll be the sweetest.... the loveliest Angel of the realm..."
She even remembered the vision she had had at this time, a vision that had broken like a sun in the storm of her nightmares, the vision of herself with Angel's wings and the sight had been almost familiar to her.
"Yes," said Rashiel. "See how familiar the thing is to you? You should have been an Angel, but we needed you here as a Guardian, so here you are."
Delilah wasn't sure Rashiel was speaking literally or not, even though she now remembered Rshkiel's habit of calling her 'Angel'. This was simply ludicrous: an Angel born from demon blood?
"Angel of Compassion!" she snorted crossly. "Right now, I'd rather be the Angel of War!"
"Michael wouldn't be too happy with you," said Rashiel, sounding amused.
Delilah thought something rather rude but turned her attention back to the battlefield, for Baal had called an end to the break.
"Before I forget, Rashiel, thank you for the light."
"My pleasure," replied the fallen Angel, still calmly standing by Baal's side.
She disappeared in a burst of flames.

There were maybe two hours left before dawn and Delilah knew with absolute certitude she would fail if she received no help. It seemed to her that Baal had endless reserves of minor Demons. She still didn't understand why He hadn't sent the major Demons against her. Maybe He didn't think her worthy of such opponents or maybe He wasn't sure on which side they would be...
Delilah had never dealt with minor Demons, except as a nuisance. None was clever enough and they were all worse than fanatics as soon as Baal's name was pronounced. They adored Baal with a single-mindedness that was terrifying. They would die for Him, provided that He was present to see their sacrifice: Delilah doubted that those He had last sent against her had dared to present themselves to Him again.
It was why they would keep coming at her, knowing they should fear her but fearing Baal even more. He probably had commanded them to bring her back to Him and they couldn't stand the idea of His disappointment. He had probably also asked them to bring her alive to Him: if not, they would have used mortal spells. She hadn't felt any of them. They were using spells so basic she almost didn't have to concentrate to break them: her mere status of Guardian was enough - and her protections of demon knight: after all, she had a very powerful protective Demon and the power of the demon knight was directly proportional to his protective Demon's.
She sighed, infuriated. She had never dealt with minor Demons before, only major ones, and, strangely, major Demons were quite easier to understand. A good amount of them knew her of course - in good or bad, though she hadn't banished too many of them, by lack of time rather than by conviction. Maybe it was why Baal was so reluctant to send them against her. Some - like K'Jox - liked her and it would be hard for them to harm her. Others - like Verrier - had even clearly made obvious that they would follow her rather than Baal. The demon prince couldn't risk such a danger.
She sighed again.
"Send them, Baal. At least, it would be over. Delaying my fate is only a delay, not a chance for me to live."
Instead of answering her prayer, Baal stopped His troops for a break. Dignity all forgotten, she sat dejectedly on the ground, head between her hands. A noise behind her startled her and she jumped on her feet, turning on her heels while drawing her two blades at the same time. Surprise almost made her drop them.
"Nymrial?" she said incredulously. "What on earth..."
The white warrior had a low laugh.
"Nothing earthly, Delilah, I'm afraid," he replied, looking around before looking at her more attentively. "I'm glad to see I'm - we're - not too late. You look exhausted, though," he added critically.
"I am," she said wryly. "Can you explain? Last time I know, you were looking for the traitor."
"Oh! Um... yes, but you found him before me, or so was I told. Pity it was Antonian, he was a good lad, very promising. Anyway, finding the traitor was one thing, but my main aim was something else."
"Antonian said you wanted to help me."
Nymrial looked surprised.
"I didn't know he could be so perceptive," he muttered. "He was right. Your resignation and determination impressed me and I am not easily impressed! I just couldn't stand the idea of letting you face the Demons all alone, even though we revised the strategy for such a case."
Delilah passed a weary hand on her face.
"The strategy is useless. There never was a secret section."
"I know," approved Nymrial. "Anyway, you're not going to fight alone."
"Who's going to help me? You? Blast it, Nymrial, they are Demons! What on earth do you think you can do against them? You're no Guardian, no demon knight, and you being a white warrior won't help you against magic!"
"I know we are not as good as you, but we came prepared!" protested Nymrial.
"We?" repeated Delilah.
She saw then for the first time the silver lights behind Nymrial, which were as many swords.
"Who? How many?"
"Not too many, unfortunately. White warriors, Varaxador's mostly, two or three from Chyraz."
"Good God, I'm getting too old for this..." murmured Delilah.
She sheathed her two blades.
"How did you find me?"
"You won't believe me, it's an incredible story. We're walking for maybe hours, yet none of us feels tired. He led us with no respite, showing the way; I thought I knew Moen, but I couldn't recognise the roads we took. And, as a matter of fact, I have no idea where we are currently."
"Plains of Moen, south of Rishaki. He?"
"An Angel. I think so, at least. He didn't tell me his name, he said you would be angry with him if you knew. His presence was formidable anyway. But I think you know him pretty well: I saw his sword and it was the same that you used against me last time we met."
"Tyrael..." said Delilah in a long hiss, mechanically accepting the sword one of Nymrial's men was giving her.
"He told me about Antonian, about the secret section being a myth and that a certain... Rshkiel was going into troubles," he concluded quite perplexed.
"So he understood faster than I did... True, Rshkiel was heading for troubles... It seems so long ago now, I have the impression I'm here facing them for ages! You walked during the whole night."
"Maybe. I told you, we don't feel tired."
"I wish I had known he could do that earlier," grinned Delilah. "Now, what do you intend to do? You don't know much about Demons."
"That's true, but my disappearance was to find a remedy to that. Our weapons are enchanted. It should banish them for a little while; not as powerful as anything you can do, but that's all I could bargain for."
"Bargain?" asked Delilah sharply. "What did you exchange for this 'gift'?"
"Five years of service to Chyraz's priests if I don't die," Nymrial said calmly.
"Fool! They better withdraw that claim on you! They have no right to ask such a thing from you!"
"They said that you're supposed to fight alone."
"To fail alone, you mean," she grumbled.
"Delilah!" called Baal's voice. "Are you and your new troops ready or do you need more time to prepare your soul before falling into Hell?"
"I need no time, Baal!" replied Delilah defiantly. "And if you don't mind, I prefer Heaven. One path to Heaven, but many to Hell, only that Heaven's path is much more difficult, but so more gratifying!"
"Heaven will never accept someone with demon blood!" raged Baal.
"Once I'm dead, no blood will run in my veins," shrugged Delilah.
"Our blood tarnished your soul to their eyes!"
"Don't worry. I know how to purify it!"
She raised her sword in the salute of the war knights and claimed:
"Send your Demons to me, Baal, I am waiting for them!"
"So be it! Prepare to welcome your death!"
"For the last and final time," murmured Delilah grimly.
She stood a bit apart of her army so that her burning belt - now almost not burning anymore - wouldn't hurt the white warriors and felt a bit more confident when seeing all the experienced warriors by her side.
"We might just hold on till dawn!" she realised suddenly, hope flaring.
Then she looked again at her small army, thinking that nobody would step forward if one fell and her hopes died almost immediately. Baal had powers on an entire realm; she had none, she had only this handful of warriors ready to stand up for something they didn't even quite understand, not even realising whom they were going to affront.
"I would have thought I had done enough to deserve a bit of divine help," she muttered miserably. "But I guess I already used all I could get."
She turned off her belt - the pentacles didn't hold enough power now to be useful and she didn't see the point of burning her energy for nothing - and came back by Nymrial's side.
"Thank you," she said without looking at him.
"You will thank me later," he said, waving the thanks away.
"I won't have time later," she replied darkly.
Nymrial didn't say anything.

White warriors fell, even though Delilah did her best to protect them with pentacles at the last moment, so they could run their enchanted sword through the enemy. Nymrial and she were still side by side and she wondered how much time had passed when the first rays of dawn lighted the sky.
"It's the end," she thought quite dreamily. "I wanted to see the sun one last time, my wish is granted and now, it's over. The Angels won't come."
She lifted up the head with difficulty - she felt stiff all over, maybe because of dry blood - and almost stopped fighting in surprise. Baal had no more minor Demons. He was still hesitating but in a few moments, He would send the major Demons and then... She looked quickly at her small army. One third maybe had fallen and the rest was still fighting, looking as fresh as when the fight had begun. She knew then with absolute clarity what she had to do.
"Go away," she said to Nymrial. "The major Demons will slaughter you till the last."
"We can't abandon you!" he protested, banishing a minor Demon at the same time.
"You won't either," she said with a dreadful calm.
Methodically, she began to make her way through the remaining minor Demons, straight toward Baal. Nymrial had a choked cry.
"What are you doing?"
"Going to meet my destiny," she replied without turning her head.
Baal saw her coming at Him and smiled. He summoned one of His Demons and leaned back against the tree behind Him. A Demon appeared in front of Delilah.
"Go away, K'Jox," she said between clenched teeth. "I have no time to lose with you."
"He's offering me to atone for my fault earlier. You cannot order me any longer."
"Too bad, you fool. I could have spared you!"
With a word, she made her belt burst into its last flames and took advantage of K'Jox's slight backing down for pronouncing a quick incantation of banishment. It seemed to her that Baal's smile was now wider. Other major Demons tried to stop her. Those she knew by name, she banished them quite easily; the others, she had to hit them with the enchanted sword or with pentacles.
"Are you so afraid, Baal, that you leave your henchmen kill me rather than do it yourself?" she shouted.
The last Demon growled - perhaps not liking the word 'henchmen' - and his hand - or rather paw - with powerful claws broke her sword. She discarded the broken piece in her hand and roughly applied her hand on his face, a shining pentacle appearing under her fingers. The Demon howled in pain.
"Go away," she hissed.
He obeyed, for any reason. She was too tired to care. She was facing Baal, Rashiel standing slightly aside, as if he was clearly setting himself out of the fight.
"Any help of last minute?" she thought at his intention.
"No," he replied sadly. "This is your fight, your fate, I can't intervene. Good luck."
She hadn't the time to be ironic about his last words: Baal seized her by the collar of her tunic and hurled her against the tree He had been leaning on earlier.
"Ouch!"
The shock knocked the wind out of her lungs and it seemed to her that her spine had emitted a funny noise.

Baal stooped over her, His face none-too-gentle. She almost couldn't recognise the Demon whose handsomeness she had so admired - and sometimes envied. His features were twisted with anger and greed. Her hand found a sharp stone and with the energy of despair, she smashed it in His face. He didn't even acknowledge the pain as He staggered back but His human features slowly faded into nothingness and then, she had the impression His face was splitting in two, revealing like a second skin beneath.
Delilah howled with terror, tears running down her face, recoiling against the tree, as the first, featureless, skin fell apart, revealing a hideous Demon, looking absolutely not human. Even her worst nightmare wouldn't have been close enough. Horns sprouted on several spots of His head, as well as sorts of tusks and impressive fangs. His fingers twisted and gained long claws, each finger maybe as big as her wrist. He grew up so much that He was twice bigger and much, much stronger. His colour was something between blue and grey, or maybe with green, she was far too much afraid to really care.
"Do you recognise your lord and master now?" He bellowed.
Even His voice was different, very deep, hard to understand - as if He couldn't really speak - and filled with hatred. Whereas before His voice could melt her heart for Him, now it would rather melt her bones from fear. She shook her head desperately, hoping to escape the nightmare, but still the horrible Demon was there. She knew then she was doing to die and to fail. His face didn't even show the trace of her stone where it had hit Him.
"You will be my SLAVE!" Baal stated with His terrifying hollow voice.
She felt a small burst of energy glowing inside her and fired back:
"I will be no one's slave!"
She knew who had given her the energy; she knew his touch. She didn't even deign to thank him: after all, she was fighting for him also.
Irrationally, she thought of Jaïna, Ellÿs's knight. When meeting with the demon prince - Baaladamon's father - she had also panicked and been destroyed because he had been her only love under his human shape. But she had fought, even though she had known it was hopeless. Delilah tried to reason herself but she couldn't: terror was paralysing her.
She forced herself to react as her tears were beginning to dry. She could still think; she had defeated the fears in Illustra's tests. If Jaïna had been able to move no matter what, she could do the same. She began to muster her strength, bringing her legs under her so she could jump on her feet and it brought her vampire blade to hand. But Baal noticed her moves and understood what she was about. He stepped forward and stooped over her again, His hideous face too near her for her tranquillity.
Before she could do anything, someone appeared brutally between them, pushing Baal aside. Incredulous, Delilah found herself face to face with Shela, who was grinning openly. The young Angel pushed something shining in her hand.
"From Rshkiel with love, and with all his apologies for taking it in first place!"
Delilah's fingers closed mechanically around a hilt she recognised at once. Her mind refused at first to register anything but then, at the contact of the angelic blade, her ideas cleared and she straightened up on her knee, wiping the last tears in her eyes.
"Thank you, Shela!" she exclaimed gratefully, almost not believing that Shela had intervened for her.
"My pleasure," replied the young Angel easily, just before her face darkened. "Hoping it will be enough..."
Ball, still looking at Shela in utter astonishment, roared in anger.
"Rashiel, you told me the Angels wouldn’t intervene!"
"They didn’t either," replied the fallen Angel calmly. "Those are rebels, but I bow to them and to their courage nonetheless."
Taking advantage of the discussion, Delilah looked around. On the battlefield, between Nymrial, his friends and the last minor Demons they were still fighting and the coming major Demons, a shining and impressive presence had appeared. She didn't recognise him at first and then her heart sank. Here he was, in all his angelic glory, his wings widely extended, his shining sword in his hand. He turned briefly his head toward her and she murmured:
"I love you."
He nodded imperceptibly. She looked back at Baal and His ugliness was almost unbearable after Tyrael's glory.

She took a deep breath and pounced on Baal, the Guardian Sabre in her hand. Shela backed away quickly and Baal, too surprised, could only partially block the blow. The angelic blade passed through His arm and His move of pain ripped the sword from Delilah's hands. Without losing further time, she reached for her right boot and took the vampire blade from it. She spared a brief thought for the other use she had dreamed about and clenched her teeth: even though it was her last life, she couldn't do otherwise. She didn't hesitate any longer and drove the blade through her own chest.
"I invoke Furtifer's curse!" she shouted, falling on her knees, while Shela went deadly pale. "Furtifer and Illustra, hear my voice! Take my life, take all my demon lives and feed your curse with them! You said it would be as powerful as I dared to give, I'm giving you all I have!"
Using the last energy she had saved for that purpose, she reversed the spells on the vampire blade, forcing it to pour in her all the energy it had stolen before. Baal had stopped to struggle; He had managed to take away the Guardian Sabre from His arm and was looking at her in disbelief, the sword at His feet, unable to believe she had sacrificed her last life. Crawling, she reached for the discarded blade and tried to drive it through His foot. Baal screamed again; He couldn't stand the contact of the angelic sword.
"Delilah!" called Shela.
She shook her head. She had the impression to see two indistinct silhouettes by Baal's sides, holding Him back with a light touch as He was trying to reach her.
"Your sacrifice was well-received, Guardian," said a deep voice that she knew was Furtifer's. "The demon prince will be banished forever and nobody will be able to call Him back on this world or another."
"Thank you, Furtifer..." she whispered.
"Rest now, child," said Illustra gently, almost affectionately.
They disappeared, Baal with them. Shela knelt beside Delilah and took the vampire blade out of her wound.
"It's over..." murmured Delilah dreamily.
"Yes, it is," agreed sadly Shela, looking at the remaining Demons leaving precipitately.
Strangely, Rashiel was nowhere to be seen. Tyrael was almost ready to chase the Demons, but Shela called him back and he came running.
"Delilah!" he exclaimed worriedly.
Shela stepped back before taking her flight to the north. Tyrael knelt by Delilah.
"Why again? Why does it always seem that you can't meet Baal without dying?" he asked.
"It was the best way to defeat Him..."
"I can save you again! Gabriel and Azzy still can intervene in your favour!" he said, despaired.
"No, not this time. My demon lives are all through. It's time I go to fight my own Demons..."
"What now then?"
"Just give me a kiss," she said, slightly shuddering as he gently took her in his arms.
"But it will torture you," he objected even though he was cradling her to him.
"I know, but I yearn for this torture now..."
He bent down and kissed her, trying to make her feel all his love.

When he looked up, Raphael, Gabriel and Azrael were around them and Rshkiel was a bit further.
"Where are Cin and Yawni?" Delilah asked, agitated. "And Nymrial? Is he safe?"
"Nymrial is alive," Tyrael reassured her immediately, trying to calm her. "You saved them, Delilah."
"Cin, Yawni?"
Gabriel and Raphael looked down the hill. Near Nymrial, who was kneeling beside him, Cinnabar was lying on the ground, as was Yawni. Both of them were still trying to see their beloved Delilah and were using their last forces to try to crawl toward her. Half the spell used to make Cinnabar look like a normal horse had disappeared and he was now looking like everybody was used to see as for hellish steeds: red glowing embers as for his fur, mane and tail hairs entirely white and eyes and nostrils red as hellfire, though the intensity of the blaze was decreasing.
"I'm sorry, Delilah," said gently Raphael. "They were bound to you, they're dying with you."
"They didn't the previous times! Please, Raphael!"
"I can't do anything, Delilah! It is your last life, you won't walk again anymore and so they won't live without you."
"But... but if Yawni dies, so will Jorram! His soul stone is in Yawni!"
Gabriel shook the head.
"There's nothing to be done, Delilah. You can't force them to outlive you, it would be cruel."
Raphael looked again at Cinnabar and Yawni. A Demon was curled up near Yawni, obviously in pain, yet he was only caressing the rovelsh's head. The light in Cinnabar's eyes was now totally gone and when Jorram's hand froze, Raphael understood it was over for Delilah's faithful companions.
"They're gone, Delilah," he said simply.
Grief invaded her, but she hadn't enough strength to cry for them.
"I had... another friend, called Gamaliel. Do you know where he is?" she asked as a single tear ran down her cheek.
"Back to Josh's," said Azrael gruffly.
"Tell him... tell him..."
"I know."
She closed her eyes.
"If they're gone, then I'll soon follow them..." she murmured.
"Do you want wings, Delilah?" asked Tyrael quite suddenly. "I remember I promised you some and I don't think anybody will object - not even Vileyam."
"No, Tyrael. Rather give them to Rshkiel, for his wings cannot lead him to Heaven anymore and he belongs there more than I do," she replied, opening her eyes for looking at her blood brother, a bit sad he wouldn't come near her.
"We'll take care of this, Delilah," promised Gabriel, "and I give you my word that they won't refuse."
She smiled at him before clutching Tyrael's hand.
"Promise me... the Guardians are all dead. Please re-establish the Guardians of Moen at least..."
"I will."
"And that Nyras holds on his promise: he has to clear Lilith's name," she insisted.
"I will make sure of it, Delilah," said Raphael.
Azrael came closer and bent toward her, concern in his dark eyes.
"Can I do something for you, Delilah?" he murmured.
"Sing to me," she replied weakly from Tyrael's embrace. "I've never heard Angels sing..."
"I'm not much of a singer, Delilah..." protested Azrael.
Then he looked up and said fiercely:
"Hold on some more, I'll be right back."
Delilah had no idea where he could be going by now, she just closed her eyes and slowly drifted away, still locked up in Tyrael's embrace.
"Stay with me, Delilah," he whispered, "please stay with me..."
Delilah could hear him from so far but the plea in his voice forced her to come back to him. It was as if he was asking her for help and she couldn't refuse help: she was a Guardian.

She heard Raphael and Gabriel wondering where her soul would go. She knew she had no hope and she had even refused the last one she could have had.
"I'm sorry," she half-coughed, opening her eyes, "for the vampire blade... But there was no other choice..."
"I know. Don't talk too much, you are weakening so fast..."
"With us," said Raphael logically. "After what she just did, even Vileyam..."
"Even Vileyam will remember she has demon blood," objected Gabriel. "And Baal, even banished, still wants her and probably others too..."
"Nowhere. My soul will go nowhere..." she breathed, closing her eyes again.
Surprised, the two Archangels stopped arguing. She felt Azrael was back and wondered how long he had been gone. Suddenly time had no existence anymore; everything seemed to be frozen in this truth: she was dying and Baal would never find her. She opened her eyes, feeling that Azrael hadn't come back alone: he was surrounded by a multitude of Angels.
"Sing for her," he commanded to them.
"Why should we? She's just another dying human," replied scornfully one of them.
Azrael took a deep breath.
"Sing for her or, by Baal's name, I swear I'll ask the Grigori and force them out of their eternal silence!"
Delilah half-grinned; even as she was dying, they were still despising and hating her. Azrael's anger somehow soothed her a little: he still cared for her enough to say aloud the two names so dreaded in Heaven. The other Angels shivered and more than one would have protested if they hadn't thought better when looking closer at Azrael.
"She saved us from the demon threat," he said through clenched teeth, "you could at least give her this small honour."
The Angels looked down at Delilah quite remorsefully and one of them, called Israfel, broke into the song that they usually sang for welcoming the souls in heaven. The others looked at him in shock but then, one by one, they joined his song. Delilah closed her eyes again. Azrael had brought the angelic choir for her; she would hear them sing for her now since she would never after her death.
"Rest now, my love," murmured Tyrael, cradling her in his arms. "Rest now, we will see each other soon. I'll be waiting for you..."
"I hope..." she managed through her ragged breath, "not too long..."
"No, love, no, not too long."
Israfel's voice became very soft and he changed the melody into something that sounded almost like a lullaby. Tyrael bent down his head over Delilah, cradling her gently, though she couldn't feel it anymore.
"I'll be waiting for you," he said again, his voice breaking on the last word.
And the Archangel wept for the death of the Demon's child.