The Hosha’na Of ‘Iyr
Between Heaven And Hell
And there was war in Heaven: Michael and his angels fought against the dragon; and the dragon fought and his angels, and prevailed not; neither was their place found any more in Heaven. And the great dragon was cast out — that serpent of old called the Devil and Satan, who deceiveth the whole world. He was cast out onto the earth, and his angels were cast out with him.
We exist between Heaven and Hell, walking the razor's edge, blinded by time and our instincts, uncertain of what's real and what's a lie set as a trap to destroy us. For many of us, Hell is more real than Heaven, because we think we've earned it, no one can earn Heaven. So we play our game of Fox and The Grapes, never understanding we're surrounded by Grapes, we don't have to earn them, they've been given to us, if we'll just reach out. To lose the most precious treasure we'll ever have just because we refuse to believe it's ours, reach out our hand and take it, is there anything sadder than that?
Excerpt: Steven, The Beguiler
Steven, The Beguiler, living the dream
What I always wanted and wings to boot, this is perfect!
I’m a natural at this! The subtleties of being a Beguiler are right up my alley. With my new Dark One skills, anyone I want is mine, especially the women, this is a curse? Since when is it a curse to be given everything you ever dreamed about, and the perks to go with it? We Dark Ones want for nothing, High-End all the way!
I pause before I go, admiring my transformation yet again in my mirrored wall, especially my wings. Standing in the middle of the room, I face the mirror and spread out my wings, laughing with pleasure at how large and imposing they are, as they stretch across the entire width of the mirror, filling the wall with wings, then fold them closed again for a better view from the other angles. Turning my back toward the mirror, I look over my shoulder, then turn one side, then the other toward the mirror, finally returning to face the mirror again, examining every aspect of my beautiful black wings.
Why do only ‘Iyr Commanders have wings? Why not all ‘Iyr? ‘Iyr are Angels, too, right? Just proves ‘Iyr are defective. I hated being an ‘Iyr! Morons so eager to return to serving a God who kept them killing each other for three-hundred-thousand years, for what? Nothing, that’s what! He must be a blood-thirsty monster who got His kicks watching billions of us die by our own hands for millennia for no reason. Who could serve a God like that? Not me! Lucifer’s got the right idea, if you want it, take it! Self-sacrifice is for defects and losers.
Since I no longer need to sleep or eat, wonder if I’m immortal now, too, like all the other Dark Ones? Need to remember to ask Abaddon next time I see him. Returning to my admiration of myself, I’m elated my new Dark One form is so striking, every former irregularity corrected, reshaped into perfect symmetry, Though I never had many flaws, I add, I was already handsome, a lady-killer, in fact, could get any woman I wanted… well, except one. But I had her once, she was mine! I had her, she was mine! I frown as I recall her, my one spectacular failure, the only perfect woman I’ve ever known, frantically pushing her out of my mind.
Blanking out the infuriating memories, I go back to admiring myself. Head-to-toe perfection! I’m something to see! Just look at me! Wish I could show someone, I grin, Maybe I will. My magnificent black silken wings arch high over my head then drape down, brushing the floor; large, glittering black eyes with no whites that draw anyone who looks at them into their depths; platinum-blonde angel curls glistening with white and gold, where my hair had been straight and close cropped before. The black skinsuit that’s our common uniform completing the effect. Perfect, just perfect! I am a ‘beautiful Dark One’, just as Abaddon calls me.
“Best of all, I can fly!” I exult, as I open wide the multi-paned double French doors to my loft’s balcony and bound into the night sky, heading to meet my latest assignment.
Abaddon’s pleased with my progress, seems he thinks I’m a natural, too. The few other Dark Ones I’ve met are terrified of him, don’t know why. Maybe I’m just better than they are and it shows. Still, they fell with him and have lived three-hundred-thousand years serving under him, so ignoring their warnings would be stupid. They’re terrified of him for a reason, I just don’t know it yet. Abaddon deserves healthy respect from me and he’ll have it, I have no plans of getting on his bad side, he commands the Fiery Pits, and me.
“Now this is living!” I laugh out loud, spreading my arms wide, my impressive black wings effortlessly propelling me through the air. Doing a barrel roll, I’m filled with exuberance, eating up the miles as I approach the darkened city in search of my new assignment. Where is she? Most of the other Dark Ones I’ve met, which isn’t many, seem to prefer cars for some reason, guess it’s because they always had wings. Who needs wheels when you can fly? I exult, doing another barrel roll.
Looking below, I spot the television station then, further on, a girl hurrying down the sidewalk toward the business district, and recognize her as my assignment, Right where I was told she’d be. Landing behind the corner of the building she’s approaching, I transform into the guise of a very prosperous businessman and wait for her to come nearer. When she’s within a few yards, I walk out into her path like I’m on my way somewhere and we nearly collide. Appearing surprised, I jump out of her way just before we run into each other and emit a startled laugh, apologizing, “Excuse me, wasn’t planning on running anybody down.”
She’s beautiful and she knows it, with the purple aura of confident professionalism born of climbing the ladder of success in her chosen career of Evening News Anchor on the local TV station. Glancing at me with a polite half-smile, then looking down the street in the direction of her travel, as she replies, “Glad you’ve got good reflexes.” Dismissing me as just another stranger in a city filled with strangers, she's already heading toward her destination again.
My new ability of reading auras was a pleasant surprise, the nuances of those things contain so much useful information. If people knew what their auras telegraph to us, they’d never go outside again, I think, grinning, But they don’t know about the innermost secrets their auras scream out to all who can read them, do they? I chuckle softly, They don’t know about us either.
Her aura tells me how to proceed with her: She knows she’s beautiful, talented and intelligent and has earned her position through more than just her beauty, she’s good at her profession. She wants a handsome, successful man, one who’s already made it and dresses the part, Was briefed about that going in. She’s a romantic, but she likes to be in control, aggressive come-ons turn her off, she wants to make the first move or she loses interest fast. She hates being played, but it doesn't break her heart as much as really tick her off, since she thinks highly of herself. She wants to be the only love interest of the man she’s chosen, who appreciates her for more than just her beauty. Okay, beautiful, tall order, but one perfect man, coming up.
I watch her walk on, enjoying the view, the bounce of her long curls, her ample curves, the swing of her hips, as I wait for the combination of the heavy sexual overtones of my aura and the urgent sexual insistency of my laugh to have their effect on her, smiling in anticipation. She stops abruptly, then half-turns, looking back at me with curiosity. Caught her.
Turning full toward me, she evaluates me from what she thinks is a safe distance. Not far enough, you’re mine. I’m dressed for her scrutiny, tailored suit, shoes, watch, jewelry, top coat draped over my arm, all very expensive. Impeccably groomed, I exude success and seem obviously non-threatening. Deciding I’m not a mugger, she smiles, asking, “You’re new around here, aren’t you? I’d remember you.”
I grin, “Why, yes, yes I am,” and laugh, weaving my skills, kindling her desires, “I’m flattered you think you’d remember me.”
My laugh takes over and her eyelids lower to a sultry gaze, her smile becoming coy as she walks slowly back toward me. Stopping at a conversational distance that announces she’s not afraid of me, but I’m only an interesting stranger, she still thinks she’s in control as she affirms, “Oh, yes, I’d definitely remember you. My name’s Angel, what’s yours?”
“Angel, that’s perfect,” I say with a sideways grin, taking a step toward her as I offer her my hand, “I’m Steven.” She takes my hand and I draw her in, “Hope we see more of each other. I live just up the street, is this your neighborhood? Perhaps you can suggest a good place to eat.”
She takes in a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly as, intensified by our closeness, the overtones of my aura coupled by the immediacy of direct touch engulf her and she stammers, “I… well, uh…” and giggles, “yes, I was just going to my favorite place, in fact, having dinner with some friends from work,” she gestures back in the direction she’d been walking, “Would you care to join us?”
“I sure would, thank you! Good food and new friends, just what this newcomer ordered,” I agree, “You’re living up to your name.” Laughing again, adding mounting urgency to her growing desires, I’m filled with intense pleasure as I conquer her, noting her breathing’s increasing, a pink blush beginning at the sides of her cheeks. She turns back toward her original destination and I put my hand lightly at the small of her back at her waist, moving my fingertips gently as I position my hand, feeling a thrill run through her as she pauses, looking over at me. Lowering my head slightly, I gaze at her, entrancing her, drawing her into my eyes as my aura and hand at her waist continue to break down her defenses. Grinning, I suggest, “Lead, I’ll follow.”
She stands, captivated by my eyes, as her pupils widen and her cheeks flush red, perspiration sparkling at her temples and above her now pouting lips, though it’s a cool Autumn night. Smiling seductively, she asks in a flirty, slightly supplicating tone, “Will you, Steven? Promise?” her eyes still locked with mine as I gently fan my fingers, pressing my palm against her back, enhancing direct contact’s physical excitement to the emotional fervors pummeling her. She shivers then sighs, overwhelmed by the salacious sensations of her deepening desires as I capture her.
I laugh again, enjoying the game, then lean toward her, whispering in a subtle rumble filled with beguiling influence, “Yes.”
Inhaling a deep, ragged breath, she holds it, then exhales with a soft, guttural moan as I take total control of her, the passions I’ve woven consuming her, putting her in motion. Throwing her arms around my neck, she kisses me with an urgent craving. Oh, yes! This is what I was born to be! I regard in triumph. Wrapping my arms tightly around her, I return her ardent kiss, adding my fire to hers as I draw her back into the depths of the darkened building recess behind us.
My back comes up against the far wall within the shadows of the building’s deep storefront and I break our kiss, revealing in a whisper, “You’re an Angel, well, so am I. Would you like to see the real me?”
She opens her eyes, a puzzled expression on her face, “What do you mean, the real you? You’re a real Angel, is that what you mean?”
“Yes,” I reply, as I transform into the Dark One I really am.
Startled, her eyes go huge and she pushes back from me. I don’t stop her, dropping my arms from around her, allowing her to step back, but she doesn’t run, she stands, frozen in wonder by what she sees. As she gazes at me, her eyes fill with adoration and she exclaims softly, “You’re exquisite! The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen! Is this a dream? You can’t be real!” Stepping close, she reaches out and delicately strokes down my wing, then smiles, closing her eyes in pleasure at the reality of its silky softness.
I assure her, “See? I’m no dream, I’m real…” and pause, smiling, “and I’m yours…” I hold my arms open, offering myself to her, “if you want me.”
“Mine?” she wonders, “You’re mine? If I want you?! Yes, I want you! Right now!” she insists, as she pounces on me, kissing me furiously. Then she pauses, looking into my eyes, insecurity sounding in her voice as she asks, “Are you mine, Steven? Really?”
Grinning, I promise, “Yes,” and she squeals with delight, pouncing on me again. Obsession! Yes! I knew my true form was irresistible!
The Beguiler's Song
Follow Me - Uncle Kracker
Excerpt: Who are the 'Iyr?
She hasn’t reacted either negatively or positively, but rather like it’s just information. She queries, “Who are the ‘Iyr?”
“A race of Angels, who are also fully Man now, though always Angels,” shaking my head at the ridiculousness of it, “Get your head around that. Angel but not, Man but not, more Man than Angel, more than just Man. It’s like a piece of paper with, ‘How do you entertain an idiot? Turn over,’ written on both sides,” I grin without humor.
Synopsizing our history just makes it all sound pointless to me, but something I don’t want to recognize insists it’s not pointless, “Anyway, we were always Warriors there in our three Colonies, every Colony against the others, killing each other like a game, killing for the win, that victory shout at the last, dying to kill each other. Over and over, death or glory, death and glory, just death and more death for three-hundred-thousand years. War, it’s who ‘Iyr are, it’s not just in our blood, it is our blood. Our gift from the Source. He made us Warriors to fight, Warriors to die, Warriors to live to fight and die. Three-billion strong, all Warriors, men, women, children, all created to fight and die.”
I grimace, “Now I’m on the side they’re coming for. The longest boot camp in the history of the world is over, this is their time for real war, and they’re objective is defeating Lucifer and all his troops. I’m in there somewhere, those troops, not a comfortable place to be, knowing what I know about the ‘Iyr. I’ve seen their skills, I had them once, I know their abilities and the steel of their resolve, we Dark Ones can’t match them.
If Lucifer doesn’t have a very big ace up his sleeve, afraid I may be on the losing side. The ‘Iyr are no joke.”