Page 2 of The Hunchback

As I finished laying down the tray on the table next to the large floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the plaza, I caught my reflection in the free-standing mirror on the opposite side of the room. I stared at myself with morbid fascination, my feet bringing me closer to it with a will of their own.

I would never pass for human with my bluish-grey skin, the scales on my shoulders and back, and the horns sitting on my forehead. But with my mysterious condition approaching its peak—usually over a thirty-day period—I was disfigured. My face and hands were heavily swollen. Large splotches had appeared beneath my skin, looking like huge, purplish bruises. With the bloating, you would think I’d been on the losing end of a bloody fight. My only redeeming quality was my silver eyes. Even when my condition made them so puffy my eyelids were almost shut, they shone through, reminding me a worthy man lived behind that ugly mask. Soon, the Praetor would tend to my illness and, for a week or two, I’d be beautiful again.

I turned away from the mirror and neatly placed Esmeralda’s luggage and ceremonial crate inside her large walk-in closet. After putting away the hovercart, I made my way to my room on the twelfth floor. Isolated from the rest of the world by the beacon which occupied the whole of the eleventh floor—formally called the Light of Vesta—the spire’s summit was my haven and my window to the world.

To make sure no one would ‘accidentally’ stumble upon me, Frollo had cut down on the space in my room to add an antechamber outside the lift with a locked door to enter my quarters. I waved my hand in front of the bioscanner by the door, which slid open quietly. The happy chirps of my imps immediately greeted me, warming my heart. Victus and Lazarus flapped their grey batwings until they each landed on one of my shoulders. The claws of their tiny hands pricked my neck as they hugged me and carefully rubbed their faces on my cheeks.

“Hello, my friends,” I said, gently pulling their long, pointy ears in my usual gesture of affection.

Victus chirped and climbed down the length of my arm to rest in the palm of my hand. Lifting his round, owlish face to gaze upon me, he gave me an expectant look until I started scratching the back of his ear. He squeaked with contentment, his tail wagging. Lazarus began braiding the right side of my shoulder length, midnight blue hair, a clear sign he’d been bored.

Walking past my king-sized bed—recently replaced to accommodate my tall frame—I headed for the kitchen area of my loft, which Frollo had furnished with high quality equipment, including a cooling unit, a replicator, and a cooking unit with an integrated grilling station. Unfortunately, my cooling unit stood empty, as Malina hadn’t been able to get my groceries with all the frenzy surrounding the Vestal’s arrival. Therefore, I selected a plate of boar meat with yam puree from my replicator. It wasn’t fancy, but it would fill the hole in my belly.

I settled on the tall stool by the front window, overlooking the plaza. Often, I would sit here for hours, working on my wooden sculptures and looking at the people going about their daily lives. With windows on every wall but the back, there was always something worth watching in Paris. I couldn’t be part of their world, but I made up dialogues and scenarios of what they were doing and saying. I invented a personality for most of them and named them accordingly.

But today, even as they scurried about, readying for the upcoming festival, the citizens of Paris failed to retain my attention. When my gaze didn’t linger on Elysium—the distant floating city of the Elohim—it scanned the skies for the shuttle that would bring the Anointed. I ate distractedly, feeding tiny pieces of meat to my imps. They preferred it raw but, like me, they’d learned to be content with the comforts we had.

And then, just as the sun reached its zenith, its rays caught on the slick shape of a shuttle—a Light Chariot—descending towards the city. As one, the citizens and I all but froze, watching the pristine white vessel with the electric blue symbol of Vesta approach. It touched down on the landing pad located on the elevated plateau on the right side of the city.

Praetor Frollo, followed by an escort of six guards in ceremonial attire, and ten Light Maidens, took position at the foot of the stairs leading down from the landing pad. The guards, three on each side of the Praetor, held their lightning staves at arm’s length, the bases resting on the ground, and the tips, sparkling with electric coils, pointing outwards. Pride swelled in my chest to have the weapons I’d created be used in this highly honorific setting.

The Maidens stood right in front of the staircase, five on each side. Their white, Grecian dress hid nothing of their sexy bodies. In truth, the dress was essentially a front and back panel of fabric held in place by three lumis cords: one beneath their breasts, the second at the waist, and the third directly beneath their buttocks, showing bare skin along their sides and hips. While pleasing to the eye, I felt no attraction towards them. Knowing they took turns warming Frollo’s bed in the dumb hope he would take one of them as his consort was a major turn off.

But all thoughts of the Maidens faded when the tall and statuesque silhouette of Esmeralda stepped out of the shuttle. She paused at the top of the stairs leading down into the city. Despite the distance, my enhanced sight as a Fallen allowed me to see every detail of her astounding beauty, with her long and curly, reddish-brown hair, her oval face, and delicate, pointy nose. I couldn’t tell if her sensual mouth with a plump bottom lip, or her sultry, green eyes mesmerized me the most. Under the bright, midday sun, her golden-brown skin—a delectable mix of hazelnut and cinnamon with a touch of honey—made my mouth water with the need to lick every inch of her.

With graceful movements, she delicately lifted the skirt of her traditional Vestal gown to climb down. If not for its expensive, shimmering white fabric, held at the shoulders by plaited lumis strings, the simple, virginal dress could have passed for a long, silk nightgown. Shoulders back, head straight, she descended the stairs with the regal presence of a queen.

Mindful of the lightning crackling at the tips of their staves, the crowd gathered in silence behind the guards. The Maidens spread their arms, palms up before them in an offering gesture. Electric coils rose from the skin along their arms, gathering into an orb in each of their hands. This should have been the extent of their greeting to the Vestal, but a beam of energy suddenly shot out of each orb forming an arc that connected with the beam from the orbs of the Maidens facing them. The crowd gasped at this display of power far beyond what the Maidens possessed. Their gaze shifted to the glowing archway the Maidens had created, which had been enabled by the powerful presence of the Anointed.

Even from where I stood, high up in the spire and so far away from the Vestal, I could feel the power swirling within her like a caged beast hungry to be set free. And it stirred something deep within me that I didn’t understand, but that I instinctively knew had been lying dormant, waiting to be awakened.

Waiting for her.

Esmeralda nodded at each of the Maidens in greeting as she passed under their glowing archway at the end of which Frollo was waiting for her. Anger blossomed within me at the appreciative glance she cast at the Praetor while exchanging greetings with him. When he took her hand and lifted it to his lips to kiss her knuckles, my anger turned into a seething rage. My imps, Victus and Lazarus, chirping with concern made me realize I was emitting an animalistic growl. I quieted down and noticed that my claws had come out and scratched the surface of the wooden shelf I’d been using as both a dining and working table.

Averting my eyes, I tried to rein in the irrational, possessive fury that the sight of a female I didn’t even know had instilled in me. The Praetor had warned me to stay away from the Vestals. Apparently, Fallen like me could corrupt their purity and sever their link to Vesta. I had always refused to believe that mere genetics could push people into doing terrible things. Over the years, I’d seen many Vestals that left me mostly indifferent. But this Anointed, the breathtaking Esmeralda, I wanted to claim, to possess, and to defile in every possible way.

Chapter 2

Esmeralda

Only years of training and preparing for this moment kept me from running back into the shuttle in a fit of panic. I had dreamed of the day the citizens of one of the moons of the Nine Circles would greet me with enthusiasm as I brought them the light and power of Vesta. But even in the wildest of those dreams, I had never dared to hope it would be with such grandeur, and least of all in Paris—the capital city of the seat of the Elohim.

As the Chariot of Light had flown over the city, I’d been blown away by the sheer size of its Well of Power in the center of the plaza. It made sense it would be so massive considering the sprawling city would require a lot of energy, not to mention the surrounding suburbs. Despite being confident in my power, I had never charged a Well of this magnitude. Knowing my first time doing so would be during the Festival of Light, the greatest annual event in the Nine Circles, had me anxious. That it would also be in the presence of Phoebus, the High Seraph of the First Circle, made me feel faint.

Coming down the stairs into the city with so many eyes on me had been extremely intimidating. Thankfully, the weak power of the Maidens had given me something to focus on. As my power seeped into them to form the energy arches, the people’s awe did wonders in boosting my confidence. If so little sufficed to impress them, then maybe… just maybe, I wouldn’t fare too poorly here.

As a newly ordained Vestal, my initial assignment should have been on one of the seven moons of the Nine Circles. Normally, it would have been between the Seventh and the Ninth Circle. Considering my greater power, I had expected to land on one of the moons named Fourth to Sixth Circle. However, being Anointed, a Vestal with off the charts powers whether through Chanting or dancing, meant I would begin directly on one of the two planets around which those moons orbited. The planet Zion—also known as the Second Circle, would have been a tremendous honor. But Praetor Frollo had personally sent me a formal invitation to the capital city of planet Eden, the First Circle.

And he was magnificent.

Many had speculated that the grand administrator of the most powerful city of the First Circle had angelic DNA. Born of a humble family, he had steadily climbed the ranks of the magistrates until fifteen years ago. A few months after reaching his majority, his energy manipulation abilities had suddenly skyrocketed—a common trait in Archangels and Seraphs. In light of his tremendous power, he had, unsurprisingly, become the youngest Praetor of Paris, or of any of the Circles for that matter. Even as I stood before him, I could feel the supernatural power emanating from him; power that I could only assume to be angelic as I had yet to be directly in the presence of a Seraph.

But that alien power awakened something inside me that I had never felt before. Something that stirred and enhanced my own. However, I had expected it to hum more strongly within him, like a great aura that sizzled around him and that would draw me like a magnet. Maybe it merely lay dormant since he currently wasn’t using it.

Still, my skin tingled when he pressed his lips to the back of my hand in greeting. I almost felt sorry when he let go.

“Greeting, Blessed Esmeralda, and welcome to Paris. We are honored by the presence of an Anointed in our midst,” the Praetor said in his rather pleasant, deep, suave voice, while pressing a palm to his heart.

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