The smoke clouded the sunny sky, as another air raid siren blared over the city speakers. Those people caught out in the street ran toward an unusual light. There were not many since most of London was evacuated, but the ones who stayed still had to get to jobs. A man motioned to the frantic people walking, not running along the street. So the people flocked to the man motioning to them.
The man was an Ahriman, a man with white wings; he gave the appearance of helping the humans. He was actually interfering. The female Daeva watched from a shadowy rooftop. Humans called her kind demons. Her kind had nothing to do with humans. All her people did, the Daeva, was to keep the Ahriman from interfering with the humans.
But did humans really need to know the truth?
They idealized the Ahriman as “Angels,” and seemed to not want to see that sometimes what the Ahriman did was against the human’s best interests. Who would tell them the truth? Nobody, the Daeva’s liked being able to do his or her job without human knowledge.
So the female Daeva watched, disgusted. She had thought of the man in a different way only a few years ago. She honestly planned to try to convince her own kind that the Ahriman had changed. The man had convinced her that the entire race had, since he was their leader. She had been fooled. He wanted only knowledge of how her people figured out where and when they needed to step in, to stop the Ahriman from interfering. She did not tell him, even though he was so convincing.
She cursed him under her breath. His manipulations ticked her off. He swore his love for her. She wanted desperately to believe him. She wanted to believe that she loved him too. She knew something held her back.
Even their lovemaking was not what she imagined lovemaking should be. It was cold and just functional with no real passion. She wanted everything, love and passion. So, he was lacking.
She shook her head to clear it. Her job was to stop his kind. She would complete her mission then return home.
