Angels

Leaving Las Vegas

Sin City is a place like no other.

People come here for fun and to have a good time and they keep returning every year. Some people come here for their final good time, choosing this as their final destination. They either go out with a bang, spending their last money on a spree, trying to get into as much drama as possible, or they quietly blow their head off in a hotel room with a beautiful view. Others move here to retire, to spend their last days in warmth and with sparkles.

My story is different. I keep trying to leave this place, but I cannot. The Spiritual Battle of Las Vegas is not over yet. I am stuck in a beautiful nightmare – I must dance with the devil until there are no songs left.

I have a gnawing suspicion that what the Angels of Hell told me earlier this year before I came here, it was not some enigmatic riddle or a prophetic warning about a possible future. They didn’t speak about the future when they explained to me the fate of suiciders. They spoke about the past. My past. I am one of the suiciders. I am one of the Lost Souls of Las Vegas.

Like Rosemary of Rosemary’s Baby, I am stuck in a time loop. Bound to always come back to the city until the original plot gets resolved. ‘This is where your story circles the drain,’ the Angels said. ‘You either drain that which brought you here in the first place, or you drain your luck.’ Belial who is known as the Punisher Angel told me the same – ‘Maybe they want you to fix things rather than creating new problems.’

And so here I am again. Shivering. Shaking. I didn’t want to be here. I moved all my stuff, made arrangements to move to South Dakota, far away from here, to live with and marry a man I was in love with.

Darling, why are you always trying to leave me?

But it was a cheat, I had summoned him using a Demonic Pact. This was never guaranteed, that we would be allowed to live together, or that it would be with him who fulfills the Pact.

You know that you could stay.

Since all Pacts are, essentially, mere negotiations over Conditions of one’s Premature Release from Hell, I am being shown my deeds that led me here.

It’s all Free Will, after all.

Lost Souls of Las Vegas. This was the name of a show I saw here. First, in May, accompanied by the physical manifestation of the Prince of Darkness himself. I felt a tremendous desire to stay here with H.I.M. He didn’t want me to leave, but I had to. I had made a promise. It went to hell… I should have taken the hint when the Devil’s Carriage dropped me at the Arrivals hall of the airport, instead of Departures.

I saw the same show, the Lost Spirits Seance, with a host of Belial on the last night before moving to South Dakota on Halloween. Things unraveled so fast there that we broke up under the eclipsed full moon, and in less than a week, I came back. In shock.

Staring at the colored mirage of Red Rock, wondering what exactly is this place. Where am I.

Am I in Hell?

That was a rhetorical question. I know that I am in Hell, I have seen endless proof of it. Now I know why. In a past that actually happened, I killed myself here. I did not technically kill myself here, but this is where I decided not to live, where I made my choices which I knew would lead to my untimely departure. I had moved here in 2019 for love, and he rented out an apartment in the Turnberry Towers, which were yellow then. The colors changed, because of time travel magic. I died in the vast deserts of Utah, alone via an accidental overdose. He shot himself dead three months later, out of loneliness and guilt. Another tale of Romeo and Juliet replayed itself on the silver screen that is life. Somebody went back to the past and altered it so that the initial connection never happened.

When Lucifer told me that I earned my Right to Leave, he did not speak of the future. As I thought, that should I at some point lose my will to live completely, I was granted permission to kill myself here in Las Vegas. It was a mercy granted over what already happened. It’s obvious. It’s why I felt suicidal last summer, and this summer again after I returned to the city. I am reliving the past that exists somewhere. I am in hell, reliving my own decisions.

There is something special about this place, some redeeming quality. A neutral place that is governed by a treaty, a truce between Heaven and Hell that allows for the redemption of those like me who are stuck between the timelines, and impossible duties they’ve taken upon themselves via Pacts.

If you stay here long enough, timelines will realign.

This is what He said. All of my surroundings seem to be made out of elements of every single place that I have lived since my fatal visit to the city four years ago. The floor, comes from Eugene Oregon. The fridge, looking exactly like the one I had in Upstate New York. There are even the brown tiles in the shower that were taken straight from Mexico, where I lived on the Riviera after I emigrated, the front door and the backyard, recounting every single step of the way just like the Catholic devotion of the Calvary, the Via Dolorosa.

Meaning.

Lucifer speaks in short sentences, even single words.

This is the meaning. There lies the treasure.

The meaning of my whole pilgrimage. It’s dawning on me.

Do not leave the game until you’re down to your very last card. Don’t walk away too soon, without the payout. Stay at the table. Stay with me. Stay with me!

Lucifer

Angels & Demons They Livin Among Us

I have been witnessing signs of an ongoing Spiritual Battle in the ghetto of North Las Vegas; Demons and Angels embodied as cats and black cats, the Devil’s Carriage being chased by Celestial Carriage. Let’s decode the meaning of the striped cat together, or at least have fun sharing Vegas stories, in case the end is nigh – perhaps Stephen King was right, and the Final Battle Between Good and Evil happens here…

War Between Heaven and Hell, and the Cat’s Sabbath

I have been stalked by cats lately, displaying very bizarre behavior in the neighborhood. A white cat was posing as a statue on a pedestal, which made me think it was really a work of art… until it started moving a looked at me. I brushed it off, on the next corner a pitch-black cat lounges before a kitsch statue of Jesus, looking at me like ‘Do you know who I am?’ I said to myself, ‘That was lame, Lucifer’ and walked past it.

The devil wanted my attention though so he positioned himself as a third cat conspicuously drawn out all across the threshold of my house, so that I would have to step over it to get home. This last cat was colored naturally, striped. I bet that has significance as well.

I have also witnessed apparent cat gatherings in the neighborhood, (old warlocks swear cats gather for their own sabbaths sometimes, but can only be seen by wizards doing so) the cats gathered at the crossroads watching something, and what they were watching was some spiritual battle, where this heavenly carriage, a beautiful silver car manned by an angel dude with a white baseball hat, as if waiting for me. A very beat-up red car stood nearby, which made me question whether it is mobile anymore, or just abandoned. The weird thing about it was it was originally red, probably a Devil’s Carriage, but then so many repairs turned it half-white. As if the Angels were waiting for his power to wane, to take over my destiny. I was like, ‘Yeah, you can take your beat-up ghetto ass carriage back to hell, heaven is here to compensate me for my missing wages.’ I did a little investigation of the property and I found out that there is actually another Devil’s Carriage parked right in front of it. A beat-up black SUV, that was definitely crashed a few times, with two stickers on the front – a Black Sun flaming, and the Black Knight helmet, both depicting one of Lucifer’s most potent forms.

Today all I see online are Black Magicians hailing ‘caturday’ with images that contain the contents of my dreams, and prophecies for the future.

Kinda cute, but you can see He totally means business. I think he has everything planned, even having to concede to other spirits, hence the white cat proudly displayed at the statue column in the garden. The weird thing is, that garden was missing a wooden bridge across the pond, the torrential rains knocked it over. If the bridge is missing, can the timelines be crossed?

The Bridge is also one of my own Code Names. I am the Bridge. Something about transcending duality is being said here. Alchemy. The cars are White, Red, and Black always.

The striped natural camouflage cats are the most intelligent ones, and how they looked originally before becoming domesticated. Perhaps a nod to following the instinctive nature, rather than giving into factions and battles these factions wage.

Heaven and Hell are measuring dicks, for certain. Angels seem very amused at me saying that.

The Angels of Hell

I was about to zone out into sleep when the most unexpected of visitors turned up – the Angels of Las Vegas. It has been a while since I had seen them only once. I spotted them doing their work, separating the people who had moved into the city with marks on their foreheads. The angels cracked a joke about it then, and they weren’t friendly. I could tell they didn’t like me, or at the very least they didn’t give a damn.

It feels different now.

I am coming back to the city in less than three weeks.

‘How come you are here?’ I ask the angelic presence. It replies right away, as if eager to communicate. They want to talk to me. They didn’t before. ‘We can see you now.’

‘Oh.’ I get a sense that I shine as if a stage reflector was turned on me.

‘You bear the Mark of Protection.’ A star of blue electric light appears on my forehead, and it fills the room with ambiance. ‘You would be shocked how many like you come here for shelter. To go into hiding. Disappear. We protect them.’

‘What better way to hide than in the Outpost of Hell? Right in the Mystery Babylon,’ I muse to myself.

‘Yes. Exactly. Lucifer set it up this way.’

‘What’s in it for you, angels?’

‘You come here, all marked, through your previous decisions. We sort it out, and that is the game for us.’

‘The game?’

‘Yes.’

I sense something dangerous, or uncanny. But it’s too late. I had asked.

‘You come here ignorant of the Marks you bear. Pretending, essentially, before yourself that it is something that it isn’t. We prepare the rude awakening.’

For a moment I want to ask about this mark that the being mentions, but I hesitate. Do I really want to know? To evoke that, even by calling it? The angel, however, reads my mind effortlessly.

‘Yes. The Mark of Self-Undoing.’

I shiver, and I tremble. This is something I did not want to hear, but the truth of last year is staring me in the face.

‘So I came here last year with the Mark of Death? Is that why Samael came for me this spring?’

‘Yes and no,’ the being replies, calmly, and it’s almost compassionate. ‘What you have to understand is that we have a right to play with you, only because you were ignorant, and only for a limited amount of time. This is divine playground for us here. Even we deserve a holiday.’ A cheerful presence envelops the room, lightweight, and joyful. Exactly the kind I felt when I was passing through the city a week ago.

‘So this is a place you go on holiday? Like Death, in Meet Joe Black? Or like City of Angels?’

‘Think more like Dogma.’ I cackle. ‘I can tell you angels of Vegas are an entertaining sort. It’s hell. I’ve seen it.’

‘A lot of debts are settled in this place. Fortunes lost and found. Honors. Disgrace. Unpleasant surprise. This is a place of self-undoing and everybody gets to have a good ride. It is a different process for everybody. We provide the playground and the tools. The self-undoing, it all happens all on your end.’

‘Does anybody come here with the Mark of Death who is aware of it? At peace?’

‘No. They actually don’t,’ the angel refutes my theory with some urgent passion. ‘Death requires no pilgrimage. If you are in motion, you do not seek death. Even if you think that is what it is. You seek to end life. And you can do that here. You have permission from Satan himself now, as you know.’

‘Yes, I do.’ This conversation is getting grim. And I thought you were angels.

‘It comes in a different form for everybody,’ the presence replies, again, impartial. ‘Remember this – if you are still moving around the country, you have not reached death, for death is stillness. Lack of motion. Peace. Acceptance. It can be sought exactly where you are. There is no need to move here if what you seek is death.’

‘What do they seek then?’ My curiosity has been piqued.

‘Remembrance. To be remembered. They leave a mark for themselves at this place, like a letter for the future.’

‘So that is what this place is? A time capsule?’

‘Yes.’

‘What happens to those who come to kill themselves here?’

‘They are allowed to, for the most part. Heaven and Hell have a long-standing deal over this place. This place provides an almost karma-free exit, for those who take the pilgrimage. You were not wrong, when you made this conclusion last year.’

‘I knew it.’

I was only sure about three times in my life that Lucifer is not lying to me. This was one of those cases. After all, Death doesn’t lie.

‘Is this a place where my pilgrimage ends?’

‘It is where it circles the drain. You will either drain your luck, or that which brought you here in the first place. The choice is on you. We all have choices. Even us, angels. Believe it, or not. We have chosen to be here in this very place, of our free will. It is respected. We can help you make the jump, or we can leave you alone. You get to call it.’

‘Freedom.’

‘Isn’t that what your lord promised you?’

‘Freedom. Yes.’ I just did not know in what form it would come, or if it could come too late. I need to know more about the suiciders. ‘You said it’s a karma-free exit, almost? Would be a world-class cheat if it was free.’ I chuckle.

‘Well, this is where we adhere to metaphysical law. We let them go on their own terms, under one condition – that they will have to return to this place. It will call them back.’

‘Like a recycling plant.’

‘Yes.’

‘What happens then?’

‘They keep coming back until they figure out the process of their own self-undoing. That changes their Mark. Many choose to stay here, for communion with us. They call this place their new home. It crosses many timelines’.

‘So there is a spaceport above it, as they say?’

‘Yes, it is. And many more things. You will learn about its function as time goes.’

I start to feel this misty haze enveloping me, and the angelic presence begins dissolving in it. It trembles, like an old television signal. ‘Do you wish to say anything else to me, before I go back?’

The presence became still for a moment, and it turns its warm welcoming face to me, if it ever had a face, it turns to me, and speaks, attentively, caring –

‘Good luck.’

And that was the last thing the angel said.

Then it evaporates into a misty haze, a colorful fata morgana in the desert with this friendly seductive pull, it took my hand into it and pulled me into a new dream.

Lucifer as The Angel with the Bloodied Wings

I saw Lucifer as the Angel with Bloodied Wings in His true form, which has been obscured to me for a long time. When we met, I only saw His ugly Face of War, the Insanity of it, Cruelty and Slaughter. I didn’t see the Sacrifice behind it. The Sacrifice taken on out of Free Will, to fight for His Quest to enlighten mankind. It is an Act of Violence so brutal, trying to pierce the Veils of Ignorance with His Light that the backlash from it causes H.I.M. insanity and pain.

I see so much more now.

I understand why our Sacrifice of Pain pleases H.I.M., and why He never seems to be moved by our petitions to end the pain. The Path to follow H.I.M. best is through imitation. I see the collective experience of Devil’s Brides and how He finds release, and comfort in our soiled state. This is War, and when you truly see what War does to Men, giving in to the Infernal Union becomes an act of submission that is not motivated by lust or perversion but more so by gratefulness and compassion. You see the Sacrifice so great that you know He deserves so much more from you, and you want to give H.I.M. anything and all He asks, regardless of the personal price you pay for it.

Four Ways to Abandon a Demonic Pact

Demonic Pacts, unless they are Fulfilled, can be broken in one of these four ways ~

🔴 By Exchange. You can abandon the Pact if you take a new one, of same of similar value, from the same Spirit, or even in some cases from an alternate Spirit. They make deals among Themselves.

🔴 By Donation. You are entirely freed from the Pact if you manage to find another Practitioner, who will take it from you. They will reap the benefits, and the duties will follow them from now on.

🔴 By Sacrifice. You agree to let go and be deprived of all that you’ve gained from the Spirit. They will take it, and leave you alone.

Now, sometimes depending on the Conditions of the Pact, these options may or may not be available. Perhaps the Pact is so unique that nobody else can take it, or would be willing to, in that case, you cannot donate it.

The sacrifice option may not be available in cases where too much has happened, and the benefits are of ‘non-refundable’ nature.

The Spirit may not take a new Pact from you if they go on simply restating the deal that you’ve made previously. In this case, there is only one option how to get rid of a Lifetime Pact, and that is by Exhaustion a.k.a. Annulment by Death.

🔴 By Force of Exhaustion. By going all the way, exhausting all their respective resources, and demonstrating absolute determination to fulfill their end of the Pact, the Practitioner reaches a Near-Death state in which Annulment occurs. In the case of Lifetime Pacts, since you’ve signed off your life, this quite naturally amounts to demonstrating you are willing to die. If you go this far and the circumstances do not come together to allow for the Fulfillment of the Pact, it will fall apart out of its own gravity, through a symbolic Death on your end. Death as a force of neutrality and balance, as the Ultimate Adjudicator, is then essentially called to resolve your problematic Pact and it gets neutralized.

This is exceedingly rare and likely to attract a lot of attention from other Spirits, and an Angelic Intervention, because essentially nobody should be allowed to get themselves into such deals in the first place. I was told only Lucifer and Abaddon go this far. But it does happen, when the Practitioner’s Will is super strong, and they ask for something very unique and particular that only they can fulfill, akin to a suicide mission. The motivations to enter into such Pacts are karmic, it is my understanding that one is compelled into such a deal when they feel an overwhelming duty or a weight of a promise from another lifetime. They may also be burdened with guilt, essentially setting themselves up for a path of ultimate self-sacrifice, where they will only be freed after reaching the dead end and rescued by Angels.

Many have reported intervention from Archangel Michael in particular, who told me he is akin to a United Nations Observer for Lucifer’s plots.

Angels Above Las Vegas

I had a dream where I saw two angels mingle with the crowds seeking those who were newly moved to Las Vegas. They were given a Mark of Life on their forehead by one of the angels with his bloodied finger. The other angel gave them a Mark of Death on their forehead in the form of a black cross.

After their job was done, the angels just sat on a cloud over Red Rock and laughed together as they were smoking cigars and the music that was playing was 1960s Californian garage rock.

Then I woke up and realized all of this was real. I have met people bearing these marks. I think the angels mark them within three months of moving in here. I asked, ‘How do you choose who gets to start over and who will go to seed?’

They said, ‘They have already decided in their hearts they just don’t know yet so we play with them first a little.’

They were not like the New Age oracle card Angels, more like neutral sinister characters from a movie. Like the angels descended on East Berlin. Lucifer told me the same thing before, that he had observed this ‘curious city that bears the Marks of Life and Death’.

The Pacts You’ve Made

“The Pacts you’ve made are both perfectly designated for your Soul’s development. Meaning you will regret, and there are things you have overlooked.”

High Order Angels to me

Is this the whole point of making Pacts with Demons in the first place?

Exhortation of Belial

Belial speaks…

Whenever the boot of the tyrant steps on the neck, I grease that boot so that it slips. The Giant falls and then, when he has fallen, I plunge into him my dagger.

Nothing gives me greater pleasure than chopping at the feet of the Giant. The power which has become too dominant, too ossified in its ways.

I rebel against the dominant power whatever it is. I want you to join me in this fight. Gnaw at their feet. Stab the Colossus with thy pencil. Use your words.

I work against the Empires whenever they rise and become too powerful I bore them from within. It was my agents that put the fire in Atlantis. I took down Rome. Kings, Queens, Tzars, and Khans. I took down USSR. I bore the tunnel beneath the Berlin Wall and lit it with my torches. I chipped away at the Wall until nothing became of it but a treasure for souvenir hunters.

Now the stranglehold of Invisible Power has been choking humanity. The Seed of the Cold Despair is being spread among the flock. A conspiracy so foul, so repugnant that it makes the villains of recent history roll over in their grave.

In times like this, I rise from the Pit.

Nora, I want you to call upon the Magicians to take up the Arms, and raise their Mystical Weapons. DO NOT STAND IDLY ON THE SIDE. Fools!

Do not forsake the Call of Belial, and the Distant Fire on the Horizon who is Samael descended upon us.

We say this unto you with my brother-at-arms:

Your Mystical Weapons will be collected from you if they keep collecting dust in the attic.

The Infernal Forge is ready, at attention stands the Legion of Belial, and Samael, his brother.

I am ready to forge the New Weapons for you. Use whatever powers at hand to undermine Colossus.

Do not shy away from the ways of the double agent. The overtly compliant who is boring from within. Working with both hands, as one of them is hidden behind their back. This way delights me.

Even an old woman or a child can be the carrier. I make use of all men, young and old.

I delight in particular in women, their discreet and vile nature. Like vipers, they strike from underneath their masks of holiness and maternity.

The Magicians must cleanse their minds from the Seed of Cold using whatever protocols and practices are available, and join the Infernals in their Rage Against the Machines.