From Heaven To Earth (The Faith of the Fallen) (32 page)

Riell threw open the sacrificial chamber doors and saw Marylza naked and
atop Drean, her eyes half closed in ecstasy. Her right hand was poised above
his chest and held a sacrificial dagger.

Disbelief momentarily numbed her and left her speechless.

“You’re too late,” Marylza grinned at her. “Your angel is mine.”

Hatred brought Riell back to her senses.

Riell’s eyes widened and her lips pursed. She stretched out her right hand.
Her longbow materialized in it. She pulled back the drawstring with her left
hand, and an arrow faded into view upon it. Riell let the arrow fly.

Ran’nok roared, jumped off his throne and blocked the arrow’s path. He
folded his wings around his body and hardened into sleek black stone. Riell
closed her eyes and drew from her Inner. Her bow faded, and she telepathically
assisted her arrow, which dramatically increased its velocity.

“Die, angel,” Marylza stabbed downward with the dagger to pierce Drean’s
heart.

Her arrow tore through Ran’nok’s body, clanged against the dagger and
moved its trajectory away from Drean’s chest. It penetrated his shoulder. His
blood filled the dagger.

Riell’s eyes burned with a purple glow. She dropped into her archery stance
once again, and her bow appeared in her right hand.

Ran’nok collapsed on the ground and crumbled into dust.

Marylza ripped the blood filled dagger from Drean’s now pallid skin. She
stood and covered herself with her wings. “If you had given yourself to him he
would be yours, not mine!”

Riell fired several arrows. Marylza laughed and vanished in a puff of
perfumed smoke. Her arrows cut through the cloud and clanged against the wall
near the throne.

“Damn it,” Riell swore. “Drean!”

She ran to him and felt his pulse. “He’s cold from blood loss... but
alive.” She saw his clothes at the foot of the altar, picked up his shirt and
tore it in half. She used the cloth to bandage his wound. “Drean, please wake
up,” she cried.

“Riell,” he murmured, his eyes snapped open and closed again.

“No, Drean! Look at me! Look into my eyes!”

He fought to keep his eyes open. “Forgive me. I wasn’t strong enough.” He
looked into her eyes.

He’s so ashamed. that succubus will die for this.

“Forget that! You have to heal yourself!” Riell yelled at him.

“I can’t.”

“You have to, Drean! Don’t let yourself die like this!” she shouted.

“No, I don’t deserve it. I enjoyed it. I want her still. My body is
yearning for her.” He coughed, and his eyes rolled back into his head. His skin
was hot and sweaty.

“No! No! I need you Drean. Come back to me!” Riell held him close. “I
need you!” She sobbed into his chest.

Drean’s gaping wound closed, and his skin regained its color. Soon dried
blood was all that was left of the wound. He shook violently and frothed at the
mouth.

“It’s ok, you’re just going into withdrawal from the succubae’s magic. It
should pass.”

Loud, rapid footsteps from the hall encroached on them. Riell stood up,
her longbow materialized in her right hand. She took aim at the door.
    

“Let them come. They won’t get through me,” she said as she pulled back
the drawstring.

“I came as soon as I...” Gerald ran into the room, panting. “I can’t
believe I ran all the way here, wounded, just to see you two going at it.”

Drean’s seizure shook him off of the table.

Riell tried to hold him still.

“Marylza got to him, didn’t she?” Gerald asked.

“Yeah.”

“How long has he been like this?”

“In withdrawal? A few minutes. It will pass right?”

Drean coughed, blood dripped from his mouth. She wiped his mouth.

“No, not without help. She’s too powerful. Kiss him. Hurry. You have to
try to dilute his lust for her with lust for you.”

Riell ran her hands over his naked body. Drean’s seizure lessened. She
kissed him from his stomach to his chest to his neck and on his mouth. She
could taste blood and bile on his kiss when he kissed her in return.

In that moment she knew without a doubt that she could not live without
him by her side. She cared for him.

He opened his eyes and saw her.

“Are you ok?” she asked.

He pulled her head down for another kiss.

“Watchin’ you two is makin’ me horny,” Gerald said with a laugh.

Drean blushed deeply and fumbled for his pants. Gerald put his hand on
his shoulder.

“I was kidding. And I’m sorry about Marylza.”

“That was my fault. Not yours.”

“She deserves something hard and sandpapery up her ass.” Gerald swore
under his breath. “But first I’m going to kill Gri for his treachery.” His
voice rose. “C’mon, we have to find him now. He had better have a good
explanation for all of this if he wants a quick, painless death.” Gerald walked
down the hall. Riell and Drean followed behind him.

“So what are we going to do when we find him?” Drean asked.

“You’re not very astute sometimes, kid. We’re going to kill him.” Gerald
was resolute. “In fact I think we’re going to skip interrogating him and just
get right to the killing part.” He nodded.

“I’m inclined to agree with you on this, Gerald,” Riell said.

“Don’t we need his help?” Drean continued.

“We can find another way to get to Hell,” he answered.

“Kill me? You need me. We have much to speak about and no time to spare.”
Grizaltus’s voice echoed around them.

Gerald swore as he faded from view.

“Gerald!” Drean noticed that Riell was vanishing as well. “Riell, no!”

He looked down at his own hands. They were translucent. Then the hall
faded from view and was replaced by the study of Grizaltus.

“Now, Gerald, calm down,” Grizaltus said.

A black robe covered Grizaltus’ head and his hulking figure. He sat on a
dark leather couch in the middle of the room.

Gerald hovered above the couch amidst oriental style lanterns that hung
from the ceiling. He yelled and flapped his wings wildly to escape the
telekinetic hold of Grizaltus, who did not take his eyes from his television.

Against the wall to the left of the television, was a long lab desk with
several shelves of bottled ingredients on it. Some of these included: vagaru
scales, exous stomach acid, fallen angel feathers and jars of different colored
blood. All of these were labeled in demonic.

Shelves along one side of his desk were stuffed with rolled up scrolls
that contained instructions for complicated summoning rituals.

An open notebook sat on the desk with a jar of ink next to it. A quill
protruded from the jar.

An open book titled: “Putting the Soul in Soulfood” was to the right of
the notebook. Wall scrolls of geishas hung on every wall.

 
“No! Kill him, kill all the
half-breeds! They defied us!” Grizaltus’ high, nasally voice made Riell cringe.

“Zaltus, remember our agreement,” Grizaltus said in a normal octave.

“I see how it is, warlock! Letting Zaltus control you these days?” Gerald
spat.

“Enough!” Grizaltus released Gerald from his hold, and the domination
thumped against the wooden floor of the study.

“Fine. I’ll listen to what you have to say.” Gerald stood up and rubbed
his head.

Grizaltus stood, snapped his fingers, and the TV muted. He turned to
Riell and Drean.

Drean’s widened as he took in Grizaltus’ appearance.

His face looked human, but he had the hulking black, scaled body of a
bal’duz. His head was too small for his body and blond patches of hair poked
from it. Horns jutted out of his upper back and shoulders. One of his eyes
burned with a crimson light and his other was blue. His robe had an open front
exposing his scaly chest. Bands of cloth that held the robe on his body
stretched across his chest forming an X.

“You can speak to them, but make it quick.” Grizaltus’ nasally voice came
back again. Black scales covered his face.

“I am Gri, the warlock,” he said, his voice normalized once again. “My
human counterpart is Zaltus, a sorcerer, but we don’t have time to talk of my
past. You can refer to me as Gri, or Grizaltus if you choose to.” He walked to
Drean and held out his hand.

“Drean.” Drean introduced himself and gripped Gri’s hand tightly. The
demon’s hand sizzled, but he held on to Drean’s hand until the angel released
his own. “Aren’t you a little small for a bal’duz?”

“Bal’duz is in my blood. I am of mixed descent. Seeking vengeance I see?”
Gri asked.

“Should I not? I’ll let you explain yourself, demon. But, it doesn’t mean
I will forgive you for anything you’ve done to me or my friends.”

“I did nothing but offer you choices, Drean. You were the one that
chose.”

Drean looked to the ground.

“Miss Riell, Azuleophis told me about you.” He held his hand out to her.
Riell stared back at Gri with her hand on the pommel of her sword.

“Right. Well come and sit. We have much to speak about.” Gri sat back on
the couch. When no one moved he turned to them. “There’s more than enough
room.”

Drean and Riell hesitantly walked over to the couch and sat as far away
from Gri as they could. Gerald sat right by the warlock and stared at him.

“Where to begin.” Gri thought for a moment.

Drean’s eyes drifted to the television.

“No. Pay attention to me, Drean.” Gri snapped his fingers and the TV
blipped off. “That will come later.”

Drean’s eyes moved back to Gri.
He had best have information extremely
prevalent to my mission.
A white light involuntarily flared in Drean’s
eyes.
Or I will turn him to ash where he sits.

Gri ignored Drean’s silent threat. “Zaltus and I discussed your group’s
coming at some length, and in the end we decided that you would be tested while
you were here,” he said.

“I knew it,” Riell said and sighed.

Drean’s gaze drifted to the floor. Riell wrapped her arms around him in
an attempt to comfort him.

Try not to be so down on yourself, Drean,
Riell thought at him.
Your
trial was unfair.

Drean pulled away at this.

It was not unfair!
he thought back at her.

“Two of you passed. One of you did not.” Gri regarded Drean
sympathetically. “I’m sorry for your loss, son. Zaltus saved the harshest trial
for you,” Gri said.

“It’s going to take much more than an apology to make him feel better,”
Riell said, her hand still on her sword.

Drean looked up at Gri and narrowed his eyes. “Save your pity for someone
who needs it, demon.”

“What’s done is done,” Gri said to the both of them. “Move on and learn
from this.”

“It’s easy for you to say that,” Drean said and looked back down at the
floor.

“Indeed, and if you do not come through on your end you can be sure that
I will not rest until my sword has pierced your heart,” Riell said to Gri.

“Zaltus doesn’t have much faith in your ability to carry out your mission
I’m afraid,” Gri said to Drean, and ignored Riell’s comment. “Nor does he enjoy
the notion of an angel saving us all.” Gri’s face rippled. “No, let me talk,
Zaltus, or the deal is off.” The rippling ceased.

“We aren’t ready then,” Riell mused out loud. Her anger faded and
hopelessness replaced it.

“No on the contrary. You three should be able to reach Hell without
fail,” Gri said excitedly. “You may even survive the decent.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Riell said.

“You’ll be ready when the time comes.”

Gri snapped his fingers and the TV blipped back on. A blond anchorwoman
sat behind a news desk on the screen. “Are you all aware of what’s been
happening in the outside world while you’ve been here?”

“No,” Riell said.

“How could we?” Gerald asked. “Been trying to save our own skins in
here.”

Gri’s face became half-human. “How would they is right. Stupid
half-breeds,” Zaltus chimed in.

“Forgive my other half,” Gri said. “As I said, he has no love for
celestials, demons or half-breeds.”

“Only abhorrence,” Zaltus finished. “The undead are rising up. They have
nowhere to go without the judgment of a God in Heaven.”

Riell drew in a quick breath.

I should have finished the bishop off when I had the chance. If he gets
out of the cathedral...
she thought.

“Just listen to this newscast.” Gri snapped his fingers and un-muted the
TV.

“We’ve been getting reports all evening of strange supernatural
occurrences. The images you are about to see are real,” the anchorwoman said.

The feed cut to a teenager on the front porch of his home.

“Oh my God, yes. I saw my dead grandpa walking around the house! He’s
sitting in the kitchen now!”

“Can we see him?” a reporter asked.

“Yeah, he’s just in there playing with our cats! It’s so freaky!” The boy
walked into his home, and the news crew followed.

The hall beyond the door was dark. Only a dim blue light shone from
underneath a door further down it.

“Oh the suspense is killing me,” Riell said, she rolled her eyes. “We
already knew about these occurrences.”

“Oh?” Gri asked.

“Yeah, after Leoran appeared in The Park,” she said.

“You mean this park?” Gri moved his right hand over the television
screen, and the feed fast-forwarded. He snapped his fingers, and the video feed
moved at a normal pace again. An aerial view of the park was on the screen. The
camera moved over the area where Shrazz and Gerald had fought, and Riell lost
all words.

“That crater looks much bigger on TV,” Gerald said. “It’ll be interesting
as to what story they’ve come up with. A terrorist bombing; plane crash maybe?”

“Even more horrifying than these mysterious ghosts is the attack on the
park by half-breed demons,” the anchorwoman cut in.

“Or, half-breed... demons?” Gerald said. “I don’t believe it.”