From Heaven To Earth (The Faith of the Fallen) (27 page)

“You’re gonna flip her!” Gerald yelled.

Riell threw the hand brake back down, pumped the brake a little and the
car fell back onto the road.

“We’re lucky it’s so late. We would have been reported by now,” Gerald said.

Riell stopped accelerating and the car eventually slowed down to a
moderate speed. She glanced at the driver’s side door.

“Where are the buttons that control the windows.”

She pressed a button on the door and her window went down. Wind buffeted
her.

“Why is the car slowing down? Did you manage to burn the engine out?”
Gerald scoffed.

“No we made good time. It should be about 30 minutes away if the
directions I got from you are correct,” she said. She let one of her hands hang
outside the window.

“So why not speed there like you’ve been doing?”

Riell looked out of her window. Nuevas Cruces was far behind them.
Without its lights blinding them, she could see the star filled sky. Moonlight
glistened off of her lustrous black hair.

“It’s a beautiful night. We may as well enjoy what leisure time we have
left,” she said.

“I guess you’re right.” Gerald sat up, let his window down and stuck his
head out of it.

Drean did too. “I agree, Riell. Who knows what awaits us,” he said.

Riell glanced at Drean to make sure he was looking out the window and let
herself cry quietly for Dejanto, Shrazz, and herself. Despite only sniffling
loudly once or twice Drean still heard her.

“Are you ok?” he asked, and the question roused Gerald.

“What are you being such a baby for?” Gerald asked.

“I’ve lost two of my best friends in the span of a few hours, you son of
a bitch! If you piss me off again tonight, Gerald I swear I’ll castrate you. If
you move to another body I’ll find you and castrate you again and again. You’ll
never enjoy being a man as long as you’re alive. I’ll insure that.”

Gerald knew he was in the wrong for being confrontational and wanted to
apologize but decided silence would be the most appropriate apology for now.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Riell,” Drean said and put his hand on her
shoulder.

“Don’t touch me. Just leave me alone for five minutes, ok?!”

Drean looked back out the window. “The desert is beautiful at night.”

A few minutes later Riell reached for Drean’s hand and held it while she
drove. She did not look at him or smile, but it comforted Drean to know she
needed him and that she knew he needed her.

“This is our exit; we shouldn’t be far now,” Riell said, she released
Drean’s hand. She slowed the car, exited, stopped at a stop sign that was
shortly after it and turned left for the park gates.

“One thing I should tell you, Riell,” Gerald said.

“Yes?” Riell asked.

“The house is...” Gerald began.

“Guarded by illusions? Yes I know. Thanks for the reminder,” she said.

Gerald folded his arms and looked back out the window. “I wonder what
else you pulled out of my head.”

“I’ve come to respect you for some odd reason, so I only extracted info
about where this place is and what to look for. I merely prepared myself,” she
stated.

“So you really respect me, huh?” Gerald asked.

“Hang onto something. Gotta scoot past the night guards,” she said. She
glanced at Drean. “Sit up and hold onto something I said!”

Drean braced himself.

Riell accelerated and rammed the metal park gates, broke through them and
laughed at the baffled night guards.

“You are a crazy banshee woman,” Gerald said.

“At least I’m not a bum like you.”

Drean marveled at the white sand dunes.

But no curve I can see is as beautiful as those on Riell’s body. And
as soft as the sand looks from here I know it is only coarse, while her skin is
smooth. While it is cold and barren she is warm, and nurturing. I miss her
already. I feel like she has changed for the worse, and I have no idea how to
make her right again. I wish Father were here to guide me.

Tears filled Drean’s eyes, and he fought back the urge to cry.

After a few minutes Riell took a left turn into the desert.

“This road hasn’t been worked on in a while,” Riell said. “Hang on.”

The car continuously shook and bounced as they ran over logs, rocks and
other debris.

“I see it.” Riell pointed at a mesa in front of them.

“That’s not a house.” Drean squinted at the mesa.

“I worry about how we’re going to fare in Hell when you can’t see through
the warlock’s simple illusion,” Riell said.

“Riell, would you have seen through it had you not already known it was
there?” Gerald retorted.

Riell did not answer and drove.

As they grew closer to the mesa, the illusion protecting the estate
dissolved.

“Park here, Riell,” Gerald said.

“Ok,” she said and stopped the car.

Riell put the car in park and removed the key from the ignition. They got
out of the vehicle. Gerald slipped his torn black wife beater over his head and
donned his tattered leather jacket before he closed his door.

Dirt underneath their feet blurred before their eyes, and when it
sharpened it was well-tended pavement. Riell’s eyes followed the fading
illusion back to where they had turned to the house.

“If the road was paved then why were there so many bumps?” She gasped
when her eyes found the answer to her question.

Human bodies, some whole, some in pieces were all around them. Illusions
had covered them too. They all faced the road and looked like they had tried to
crawl away from the house in desperation.

“Gerald have you brought us to a madman?” Riell asked. Her voice shook as
she tried to imagine what had slain the humans.

“He’s a warlock. Been around longer than I can remember. Maybe before the
fall,” Gerald answered. “He was from Japan or some other oriental place. His
favorite places were England and the Deep South in America. Had a thing for
southern comfort.”

“I guess that explains how ancient this house is. But the bodies?” she
asked.

Gerald shook his head. “I wouldn’t worry. They’re probably just unwelcome
visitors.”

“This place is enormous.” Drean’s eyes traced over the features of the
house.

White wooden pillars stretched upward from its porch to the balcony high
above it. A gargoyle statue perched on the edge of the balcony snarled at them,
its gaze fixed on the ground in front of the house’s doorway. Its roof was
divided into three sections, their ends curved up like chalices.

“He keeps statues of demons?” Drean asked, looking at the gargoyle.

“That one’s for protection,” Gerald answered.

“From what?” Drean stepped underneath the statue’s gaze and peered up at
it.

“From intruders, not so unlike you,” it growled.

“I do not fear you, demon.” Drean stood his ground.

It stretched, dropped off the house and landed before Drean. It peered at
the three of them, and a look of recognition appeared on its face.

“So, you are the guests he has been expecting.” The gargoyle grinned and
bowed low before Drean. “Forgive me, master Drean. My eyesight isn’t as good as
it used to be. I merely protect this safe house. I meant no disrespect.”

“Why do you treat me with such humility?”

“One such as you has not walked on the earth for many millennia, master
Drean. Those that can see you for who you are should respect you accordingly.”
The gargoyle turned his gaze to Gerald. “Gerald it’s good to see you again.”
The gargoyle nodded at him. “Here to acquaint the angel with the finer fruits
of life?” It winked slyly.

“Not tonight, Grakan. We’ve come on business. We need to see him.”

“Of course, of course. So this is your mistress?” Grakan looked Riell up
and down. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, miss...”

Riell narrowed her eyes and stood up straight. She had been crouched in a
battle stance.

“Riell, and I am no one’s mistress.” She looked into Grakan’s black eyes.

“A thousand pardons, madam Riell.” Grakan bowed before her.

Riell folded her arms in disgust. “If you were a gentleman you wouldn’t
have insinuated it in the first place, and you!” She walked over to Drean and
grabbed his arm. “You should have said something.” She shoved a fist into his
stomach and left him on the ground gasping for air.

“You are quite a woman, Riell.” Grakan nodded appreciatively. He motioned
for them to walk up to the doorway. Riell walked ahead of them. Gerald gave
Drean a pat on the back as he hobbled past.

“You alright, kid?” he asked.

“Yeah, just taken aback,” Drean said.

“Yeah. Me too.” He laughed nervously and shifted himself in his pants.
“Me too.” Gerald continued to the door.

Grakan offered Drean his claw. Drean took it and hoisted himself to his
feet.

“You are a lucky man. To have won the heart of a tigress such as her is
quite an accomplishment,” the gargoyle said in a low voice.

“How can you even tell? I’m not so sure at this point,” Drean said.

“It’s apparent to these ancient eyes. Just be patient with her.” He
winked at Drean. “Come, sir,” he said louder, “the master is waiting.” He
motioned for Drean to join his companions.

Drean stepped onto the porch of the mansion. Grakan followed.

“Excuse me,” he said. Riell and Gerald moved out of the way so he could
get to the large wooden double doors of the house.

Grakan pushed one of them open. Screams of pain and pleasure rang out
from inside. Whispers spilled from every wall. Fetid smells of blood, rot and
sex invaded the nostrils of the three companions.

“Come inside,” Grakan said and held the door open.

Peter sat alone in the Mayor Michael Saffron’s office with a mini disk in
hand. Michael’s office was spacious, the carpet a deep red plush. Peter found
footprints would not persist for more than a fleeting moment.

“The carpet must be chanted or something,” he said and tested it for the
tenth time with the toe of his shoe.

God I hope I wore enough deodorant.
Peter wanted to sniff his
armpits but stopped himself. He shook his body out and sighed.

Just stay calm. You have your evidence. Just present it to him.

Peter nodded at this thought and scrutinized the office to take his mind
off the wait.

To his left a sizeable painting of angels in loincloths hung on the wall.
They carried out various duties in what Peter took to be the painter’s
interpretation of Heaven: blue skies, radiant sun and fluffy clouds. Some led
humans to their final resting place: a light brighter than the sun in the
piece. Humans could be discerned by their lack of wings and halos. On the right
wall was a painting of a dark cavern. Its light source was a boiling pit of
lava. A dragon lay at its center. Humans screamed in agony as male and female
demons of all shapes and sizes feasted on their limbs.

“Why the mayor keeps shit like this in his office I’ll never know,” Peter
said.

The office door clicked open. Peter stood up as the Mayor of Nuevas
Cruces walked in.

He was a tall, wiry man: his complexion had the semblance of youth
without signs of aging despite being in his late 50s. His short clea hair showed
some signs of graying though. He was dressed in a t-shirt and shorts.

I hope he takes me seriously.
Peter thought, as he compared their
clothing. The Executor had dressed in his best suit.

“Thank you for seeing me under such short notice, Mr. Saffron.” Peter
held out his hand for the mayor to shake.

“Peter, you know well you can call me Michael.”

The mayor began. He walked past the Executor to his desk and sat down.
His dark brown eyes connected with Peter’s.

“Sit down, we must talk quickly. My daughter has a soccer game this
morning and she’s in the car waiting for me.” Michael’s gaze dropped to the
disk Peter was carrying.

Michael’s ornate, dark-cherry wood desk was inlaid with what looked to be
real gold. Like the room, it was of comfortable size. A 27-inch flat,
widescreen monitor and a picture of a young girl in a silver frame sat on it.
Her face was fair. Her hair and eyes were electric green. A mischievous smile
played over her face as if she kept some kind of secret.

“Is that your daughter, sir? Xoe?”

“Yes, it is. You ask that every time you come here.”

“I do?”

“Your memory lapses are getting worse. We’ll talk about that later. Why
have you called me here?” Michael looked at him expectantly.

“As you know, sir, the half...”

“The half-breeds?” The Mayor interrupted him. “If this is another one of
your farfetched tales concerning them you had best turn around and leave. The
council’s decision to remain neutral stands and so does mine. They have always
been relatively neutral. More so than our race.”

Peter paused, looked around nervously and tried to organize his thoughts.

“There’s something larger at work here, sir. We both know about
individuals and unorganized groups that have plagued this city, and we’ve
handled those, but this new threat is organized and too much for me to handle
with my current technology. What I’m talking about are factions of half-breeds.
They’re at war, which is dangerous to us because of their inhuman strength. If
we do not act soon they’ll decimate the city. But, while they’re distracted
with each other it will be easy for me to infiltrate and undermine them.”

Michael shook his head. Peter frowned.

“Councilor Suchi supports my decision,” Peter said.

“The only reason Suchi is on this council is because of his talent as an
enchanter. He is corrupt and corrupts others for profit.”

“Sir...”

“I’m going to be terse with you in order to save time. The danger you’re
associating them with is no different than the sort of danger we pose to
ourselves. There is no need to treat them any different than we do our outlaws.
You have not gotten it into your head all these years. I let you traipse around
the city looking for those kids that killed your parents. Yes, I know about
that. And in their case they did not change. I overlooked that disobedience
because I thought that if you had exacted your revenge your perspective would
change and your life would get easier. It obviously hasn’t. I also know about
the battalion of soldiers you have testing your new armor prototype. I’m
de-authorizing that until further notice.” He looked at his watch. “My
secretary said this meeting was scheduled to discuss the safety of the city.
Next time have a valid concern before you waste my time.”

Peter jumped from his seat, grabbed Michael’s extended arm and knocked
over the picture of Xoe.

“I won’t sit by and watch while this city goes to Hell!”

The Mayor stared at the Executor dumbfounded and collected the broken
frame from the floor.

“I’m sorry sir. I can replace that if you need me to,” the Executor
stammered. He sat back down.

Michael sat down unperturbed.

“Alright, Peter. Show me your evidence to support these claims. If I find
it insufficient I will expect your resignation in the morning.”

Peter handed the mayor the case containing the mini disc with shaking
hands.

“There are two films. The first is of a skia claiming that there are two
organized groups of half-breeds at war right now. The second is of those two
groups fighting, I mean waging war, at The Park. The films will reveal what
they are fighting for.”

Peter tried to take slow deep breaths to calm himself. He knew Michael
would understand once he watched his tapes, but he was still uncertain if he
would be able change Michael’s view of them.

“If they were ‘waging war’ then why did you not apprehend them on the
spot?” Michael asked as he unlocked his computer’s cabinet under his desk.

“Have you not watched the news? The center of The Park was burnt to a
crisp last night. It was them that caused it.” Peter watched his movements
anxiously.

“No. I haven’t watched the news today. I haven’t had time.”

“Well see for yourself, Michael. It is all on the second disk.”

The Mayor switched his computer on. It came on fully booted.

“Did you have that on stand-by?” the Executor asked, amazed by machine’s
speed.

“No. I wouldn’t leave this on all night,” Michael said.

“How did it load so quickly?” The Executor wanted to walk around the desk
to look at the system but didn’t. “What do you have in that thing?”

“Every piece of hardware in there is a fusion of technology and
enchantment,” the mayor said, as he searched for the video program he wanted to
use to view the film.

Peter made a disgusted face and leaned back in his chair.

“Your disgust is hypocritical, Peter. Without such technology your
hunting suits would not exist. Magic is a necessary component of technological
evolution.” The mayor pushed a button underneath his desk.

Peter rubbed his temples to soothe the anger pounding in his head.

A slit in the ceiling opened behind the mayor’s desk with a click. A
projector screen almost the size of the back wall of his office descended
silently out of it. The Mayor slid the first mini disc into its appropriate
drive.

“You know I am more than grateful for everything you have given to me and
done for me, sir. I just hate...”

“Quiet. It’s starting.” The mayor waved at him dismissively and rotated
his chair around so he could watch the film.

Peter nodded and anticipated the mayor’s reaction to the video.

“Who are these people? Why can I only see their legs?”

“It’s from my helmet’s recorder. They apprehended me but didn’t check my
helmet for a camera. It’s Gerald and a skia. I can’t remember her name.”

They listened to Gerald and Feit speak.

“Sir, stop it there please. What she just said about an organization of
half-breeds having that much power, that it is dangerous, that’s what I
believe. We can’t trust either of these groups. The Falling Curtain or the one
she represents. They both want this angel. They can both abuse its power, and I
think they will.”

Why was I not aware of this angel,
the mayor thought.
My wife
never mentioned it. She would have, if she had known. If she didn’t know then
maybe what that skia said about the Duo is true. Maybe they do have selfish
motives. I need to call her about this. It would not hurt to have him
investigate this further.

“I’ve seen enough,” the Mayor said and closed the video program.

“Ok, sir. But the second video is more convincing,” Peter said.

“Executor.” The Mayor ejected the mini disk. He handed it to Peter and
switched his computer off. “You wanted authorization to detain these
half-breeds.”

“Yes sir,” Peter said trying to keep his voice level.

“And funds to do so?” Michael continued and pulled a small silver pen from
his shorts pocket.

“Yes sir, any funding would be appreciated,” Peter said.

“I assume you have a form for this?” The mayor tapped the pen on his
desk.

“Yes sir.” The Executor reached down and retrieved a briefcase from
underneath his chair. He put it on the mayor’s desk and glanced up and expected
a rebuke since he hadn’t asked.

“It’s fine. We don’t have time for formalities,” the mayor said.

Peter opened the briefcase and thumbed through some papers before finding
the form.

“This form will authorize my men and I to detain, question, and try all
half-breeds that we come across.” The Executor handed the form to the mayor who
glanced over it.

“All?” the mayor said. “I also see that you’ve allotted a rather large
sum of money to this project.”

“The money is for the production of several suits of the newest battle
armor my experts have developed. I already paid the sum from my own pocket,”
Peter said and went into a coughing fit. His mouth frothed. He seized, banged
his head on Michael’s desk and lay there shaking.

“He hasn’t been taking his medication,” Michael muttered.

Michael opened a compartment underneath his desk. He filled a syringe
with a blue liquid. It was a concentrated form of Peter’s medicine. He injected
him with it.

I had hoped I could control his anger with this. My enchantments
cannot assuage his need for revenge. His body fights my attempts to erase it,
like it needs the revenge to be sustained. We’re both lucky The Falling Curtain
was so lenient when he killed their people, but it was only because of my
wife’s intervention. Without her help they would never have given me access to
bounties for Mary to give to him. He killed most of the children responsible
for his childhood trauma, but his hatred was not satiated. I hate skewing his
memories like this. God I hate it.

He threw the needle away and continued looking over the form.

“Is that your daughter?”

“What?”

“In the picture.”

“Yes it is. You ask that every time you come in.”

“Sorry, sir, my memory lapses are getting worse.”

“Do you remember how you earned them? Through brash action. The odds are
against you every time you step out the door to exact revenge on them, Peter.
Their power and speed is incomprehensible by our minds. You are lucky to be
alive. Without my medical attention you wouldn’t be. Will your bloodlust ever
be sated? Well, Peter?”

“They are nothing like us. Nothing.”

“I’ve changed my mind.” The mayor stood up and stretched. “Now if you
excuse me, I need to be on my way.” He walked for the door.

“Sir!” Peter hurried after him.

Michael pushed the elevator call button. Its doors opened immediately and
the two stepped into it. Michael pushed the button to take them down to the
bottom floor.

Elevator music in the background futilely competed with the tense minds
of the two men. Peter searched for words to strengthen his position, but every
time he looked at the mayor’s tightly drawn face he could not muster the
audacity to speak.

The elevator doors cracked. Excited voices fluttered through the small
opening before the doors parted.

“What in the name of...” the mayor said.

Hundreds of reporters were crowded into the lobby. Camera flashes blinded
them and questions deafened them.

Michael’s secretary stood up as they stepped out of the elevator. She
waded through the sea of reporters to reach them.

“I tried to call, sir. Your phone must have been on silent,” she said
with an apologetic tone in her voice.

“Yes, it was. Krissy take an extended vacation,” he said.

“Sir?” she asked, unsure of his meaning.

Michael stopped and stared at her.

She nodded and ran back to her desk. Michael and Peter made their way
through the reporters until they reached the front of the capitol.

“Mr. Saffron,” one said, “what are you going to do about these
half-breeds that decimated The Park?”

“Is this a National Security matter?”

“Will the military be involved?”

“How long have you known about them?” asked another.

“Are they all really as malicious as the news reports have depicted?”

“Have you detained any already?”

“Can you estimate how many are in the city right now?”

Michael tried to drown all of them out.

Peter put a hand on the mayor’s shoulder.

“Sir, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for the media to get a hold of this so
quickly” Peter said when he turned to him.

Michael took Peter’s hand and drew him close.

“Peter, you have my authorization to do what you need to do, but try to
remember our own history.” Peter tried to pull back but the mayor held him
fast. “A holocaust will not lead to peace. Distrust, hatred, war... that is
where that road ends,” he said. He released Peter’s hand and walked ahead.
Peter followed him.