From Heaven To Earth (The Faith of the Fallen) (33 page)

“How did they find out?” Riell asked.

“Just keep watching,” Gri said.

The feed cut to skia fighting skia, then Verill feasting on angel wings
and Gerald and Shrazz fighting above the park. It cut again and showed Gerald
burning and falling from the sky. He hit the ground near where the cameraman
stood.

“The fall of one of these demons caused the crater you see here,” the
anchorwoman said. “But the fire that damaged the forest beyond it was caused by
something else. The image we’re about to show you is not for the faint of
heart.”

The feed cut again. Shrazz’s monstrous head, post-transformation, filled
the screen. He roared and expelled fire. The camera panned over a burning
section of the forest.

“Even more shocking was how this forest fire was extinguished,” she
continued.

The feed cut to a still picture of Leoran in the body of Dejanto.

“When this man appeared the fires ceased. It would have taken the fire
department days to put out this blaze according to the fire chief.”

The feed cut to a close up of Dejanto’s face. “I am He, I am the Lord,”
he said.

“Could this be the second guise of Christ? His statement and the fire’s
disappearance are the only signs that point to this inference.”

The charlatans put that fire out. Why would they even insinuate that
Leoran extinguished the flames?
She shook her head in disbelief.

“I don’t believe it,” Drean said.

“What?” Gerald asked.

“Was this news story covered by worldwide stations?” Drean asked.

“Something like this concerns everyone, humans and half-breeds alike. I’m
sure it was, Drean,” Gri said. “It’s going to change everything for our kind.”

“Leoran has already set up everything in his favor then,” Drean said. “If
he diverts the Faithstream the faith of these people could easily fall into his
grasp if their allegiance can be swayed by acts such as these.” Drean motioned
at the television.

“I’m not so sure he deceived them,” Gri said. “In times as dark as these
we look for excuses to declare miracles that point to the arrival of a savior.
You will need to expedite your journey to Hell,” Gri said. He snapped his
fingers, and the television turned off.

“It will change everything for us,” Riell said. “When the Falling Curtain
sees this I don’t know what they’ll do. Paranoia is going to break loose on
both human and half-breed fronts.”

“We need to get to Hell as soon as possible,” Drean said.

“I don’t trust him!” Zaltus exclaimed. He turned to face Drean, his human
eye aflame. He pointed at him.

“Zaltus, calm down. You will have your final test,” Gri said.

“How else could he possibly be tested?” Zaltus started.

“Let me speak!” Gri boomed and rumbled the room with his voice. Some of
the bottles on his lab table crashed to the ground.

“Drean, the only way to get to Hell as quickly as you need to is through
this,” Gri said as he walked over to his desk. He opened a small drawer on the
right side of it and removed a black gem and a silver medallion with an upward
pointing pentagram inscribed on it. A hole was at its center.

“So give it to us so we can be on our way,” Gerald said through his
teeth. He stood up.

“Gerald without Zaltus’ power the medallion won’t work,” Gri said. “Who
knows where it would take you.”

“Sit back down, fallen,” Zaltus spat. “Or I will pluck your wings clean
one feather at a time."

Gerald stared into Zaltus’ eye and loosened his fists. He drug his feet
along and sat back down on the couch. He slumped into it.

“What must I do?” Drean said.

“Die,” Zaltus sneered.

“Zaltus don’t be so dramatic,” Gri said, shaking his head. “Drean, the
half-breeds of Nuevas Cruces are in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?” Drean asked.

“Eradication,” Gri said, his voice grew sorrowful. “After this story
aired the people demanded answers and action. Mayor Saffron gave Executor
Hererro permission to apprehend them and question them, but I know he’s not
going to stop there.”

“And you want me to save them? Or kill this Executor?”

“Let me handle Herrero,” Gerald said.

“This is Drean’s test, Gerald. Yes. Save them. Do not kill the Executor.
This is a rescue mission only,” Gri said.

“Hardly a proper test,” Zaltus said.

“Let me finish, Zaltus,” Gri said. “You know if he fails the Executor
will surely kill all the half-breeds along with Drean. He will torture Drean to
glean information from him since he’s an angel.” Zaltus’ face lit up at this
notion. “Drean would die a slow death with the knowledge that he had abandoned
his companions and utterly failed,” Gri finished.

“Torture, yes. Half-breeds dying, yes.” Zaltus thought the agreement
over. “The angel in complete anguish when it dies... this is getting more
feasible.”

“I’ll handle him! You’ve tortured him enough,” Gerald said, and stood up.

Zaltus grinned when he saw Drean fight back tears.

“But what of this audacious nuisance and the angel’s mistress?”

“If Drean fails there is no hope for this world,” Gri said. You may do
with them as you like. If either of them tries to leave you can slay them.”

Zaltus cackled. “Alright! I am in accordance!”

“Good,” Gri said.

He walked to a massive bookshelf on the opposite side of the room, found
what he needed and sifted through his lab desk’s drawers to find tools required
to fit the black jewel to the medallion.

Gerald sat back down. Riell resisted the urge to behead the warlock.

“I’m sorry, my friends, this seems to be the only way,” Drean said as he
stood up from the couch. “And if I fail...” He turned away from them.

“Death!” Zaltus proclaimed.

“Can you try to calm yourself, so I can work on this?” Gri asked his
human half. He picked the jewel up, scrutinized it and compared its size to the
hole in the medallion. The medallion dissembled in the air, and energy forked
from one piece to another.

“Don’t think about that, Drean.” Riell came to his side. “You won’t
fail.”

“You can do it, kid,” Gerald said. “I’m sorry we can’t be there by your
side.”

“Do everything you can,” Zaltus said, “to fail.” He sneered. “Make no
mistake this world’s apocalypse is coming whether you save the half-breeds or
not.”

“He’s so cynical. Don’t listen to a word he says. He always talks
incessantly of Armageddon,” Gri said, as he filed one side of the jewel.

“And there is nothing any of you can do to stop it!” Zaltus exclaimed.
“Eradication is better than servitude. You of all people, angel, should know
that. Just let them die,” Zaltus said.

“I’m ready,” Drean said. “Where do I go?”

Riell hugged him and Drean returned her embrace. “Be careful,” she
whispered in his ear.

He nodded at her, and she sat back on the couch.

“The capitol,” Gri said. “They’re preparing a protest there. Whether it’s
peaceful or not the Executor will make the most of the situation. He’s an
opportunist.”

“What part of the city is it located in?” Drean asked.

“The center,” Gri said.

“Alright.”

Drean closed his eyes, and tried to get a bearing of where the building
was in relation to his entry point when he had first arrived on Earth.

“Do you need me to open a door for you, Drean?”

“No, he must do it alone,” Grizaltus said.

Riell held her hands out in surrender.

Drean kept his eyes closed for a moment longer and a door of light opened
in front of him.

“How did you...?” Riell said.

“I learn quickly.” Drean smiled and waved. “I’m to return here with
them?”

“Yes, bring them to the lobby. I’ll handle it from there,” Gri said.

“Farewell, my friends.” Drean stepped through the door, and it closed
behind him.

The Executor stood behind a podium at the top of the steps of Nuevas
Cruces’ domed, mock Roman capitol building and surveyed the reporters at the
bottom of the stairs.

Six large, Doric columns held up the porch roof and its frieze depicted
the torso and head of a muscular angel. His outstretched wings nearly filled
the whole surface area on either side of him.

Even though this press conference was short notice there are so many
reporters here. Wait until they hear about my solution to all of this,
Peter
thought.

Peter looked behind him and smiled in appreciation.

One hundred of his most trusted officers stood in front of the capitol
doors armed with the half-breed hunting body armor he and his partners had
created.

Mary and Zach constructed the armor from scientifically engineered metal
they developed by using blood and tissue from half-breeds and demons.

The end result was a form fitting bio-suit that could withstand heavy
impact and regenerate itself as long as synthinner was flowing through its
system of veins. When activated, the suit would ooze out of its housing inside
of a small jet pack, cover its user and harden into a white scale-like metal
once the body was fully covered.

Later they were able to duplicate the metal without a steady supply of
material by using enchantment.

Their helmets completely covered their heads. Its visor-screen obscured
the eyes and was lustrous silver.

I really can’t believe this is finally going to happen,
he
thought.

Peter felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. He took it out and
answered it.

“Hello?” he said into the phone.

“Oh! It’s time. It’s time, sir. Time to begin,” his second in command,
Councilor Suchi said.

“Sample enough of your drugs today?” Peter asked. “I told you to stay
clean today, Councilor. Did the mayor send the official state of emergency
papers?”

“I tried. I tried. Just so excited. Smoked some to calm down... got too
tired. Popped some to wake back up. Snappy as hell now, sir. Snappy as hell.”

Peter sighed.

“Alright. Did he send them or not?”

“We got it, sir. Got it good. Got it better than I did on my
third
honeymoon.”

“Hey! It’s time to get started! We don’t have all day!” A reporter yelled
from the crowd. Other reporters joined in.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re even talking about, Suchi,” Peter
said. “Sober up and get your ass out here.”

Peter hung up and addressed the crowd.

“Good morning, everyone,” he said.

The press quieted.

“Please hold questions until the end of my statement,” he said. “As you
know some strange things have been going on in our city. Our park has been
desecrated by half breeds: spawn of demons and angels that have roamed our
world long before our time.”

Some of the reporters already had their hands raised at this point. Peter
glanced at them and shook his head before continuing.

“My constituents and I had recognized these beings as a potential threat
many years ago and prepared as such,” Peter continued.

More reporters raised their hands.

“Why haven’t we come forward until now?” Peter asked, trying to guess the
question on their minds.

Most of the reporters lowered their hands.

“The mayor didn’t recognize...” the Executor paused.

No, I shouldn’t compromise his credibility,
he thought.

“The mayor didn’t come to realize their existence until very recently,”
Peter amended. “Until now the half-breeds have been very covert with their
lecherous activities, and therefore it was difficult to acquire sufficient
evidence to convince him.”

“What are you going to do about this?” a reporter yelled from the back.

“Capture them, and if they resist they will be executed immediately.”

At this the press went into an uproar.

“If you want your questions answered you’ll have to be silent. Raise your
hands,” Peter said.

They quieted down and waited patiently for the Executor to recognize them
before asking any other questions. Peter looked at the crowd and tried to
decide where he should begin.

A tall, slender woman in a bright green sun dress of stitched cloth
leaves at the front caught his attention.

She had dark green hair and large, round lime green eyes. Her hand was
raised, and she stared at the Executor with silent resolve.

She looks familiar, who is she? I guess green is her favorite color.
Talk about overkill.

“You in front, miss?” the Executor asked.

Several of the reporters pointed at themselves unsure of who the Executor
referred to. The woman knew the floor was hers.

“Vernezeran, representing TFC, sir,” she said. She did not seem excited
he had chosen her for the first interview, like she had anticipated it.

That acronym sounds familiar,
the Executor thought.
And I don’t
remember any local news stations or papers going by it.

“Yes, miss...” the Executor decided not to stumble over the name. “Please
ask your question.”

“I have a couple if I would be allowed them. They’re prevalent and may
save some time,” she said.

“That’s fine. You were the only reporter following directions,” the
Executor said.

The crowd protested.

“My first question...” she began. Her voice trilled over the multitude
even though she had no equipment amplifying it. “How can you distinguish these
half-breeds from regular humans?”

“We have developed technology that can recognize their distinct auras,”
the Executor said, proud to speak of his armor to the public.

“Auras?” the reporter gave a small laugh.

“Yes,” The Executor coughed. “For lack of better terminology. The
half-breeds emit very distinct spirit patterns. Our equipment picks these up.
Other than these auras they have supernatural abilities that distinguish them
from normal humans.”

She laughed.

“Abilities? Such as?”

“Flight, super strength, the ability to manipulate shadows, invisibility,
some can concentrate their energy into projectiles, others can summon
creatures...”

“You seem to be well informed, sir,” she said. Her intense, unblinking
gaze made Peter nervous.

Why does she keep staring at me like that?
Peter thought.
She
hasn’t written anything down on her pad. In fact I don’t even think she has a
team with her. Her face looks so familiar but I can’t place it.

“Where are you getting this information?” she asked.

“All of this info is from personal records we’ve compiled over the years
by neutralizing half-breed incidents.” The Executor took a drink from the glass
of water he had placed on the podium before the conference.

“So you’ve been apprehending and executing civilians under the assumption
that they are supernatural mutants?” she asked.

The Executor almost choked on his water.

“I have apprehended and executed half-breeds. Yes.”

Reporters answered his confession with flash bulbs.

“Sounds like the demented crusade of a madman the more I hear,”
Vernezeran said with a smile.

Peter realized she was trying to undermine his credibility for some
reason and took a deep breath to calm himself.

“Let me remind you all that the mayor himself not only supports my
reactions to this threat but believes with conviction that my soldiers and I
are the only viable solution.”

Vernezeran folded her arms, and the Executor smiled at her irritation.

“Fair enough. I had forgotten. Excuse my accusation.”

“Excused.”

“So if these... half-breeds have this sort of advantage over humans how
will you hope to combat them?”

“Our weapons are capable of handling every type of half-breed within our
records. That’s how.”

“So you believe your weapons are going to be able to combat these half-breeds
effectively?” Vernezeran asked.

“Effectively?” the Executor laughed. “This armor is equipped with a jet
pack will allow us to fly faster than them. We have bullets that can hone in on
specific energy signatures, penetrate scales, or armor if they are wearing it,
and the computer database will remember breeds we’ve fought to provide combat
suggestions on demand. The bullets and rockets are fused with dormant
synthinner, that is, the synthetic form of the energy the demons use. That
energy can be activated for any number of purposes. Most importantly the
ability to turn their own magic against them,” the Executor continued. “As I
mentioned before we use several types of ammo to combat them. But all of the
bullets are the same caliber, a little smaller than you would use in a sniper
rifle. The synthinner allows us to convert them to whatever purpose we need. We
have small rockets as well, and with that much power between only two types of
ammo, I’m pretty sure that makes this rifle the most effective and efficient
hand weapon in history.”

Vernezeran’s eyelids twitched, and she forced a smile.

“Okay. I’m impressed,” she said.

The Executor grinned.

“Additionally, if for some reason we run out of ammo our suits can inject
us with synthinner to provide increases in strength, speed, and perception for
a limited amount of time, but since it is potentially harmful that function
will only be used in emergencies.”

“I have one more question and then I’ll leave the floor to someone else.”

“Ask away,” the Executor said.

“If for some reason you were captured or perish the thought... killed in
action, who would take your place? Is there anyone else you would entrust
leadership to in your stead? ” she asked.

“No one. Without me this operation would fall apart. Moving on,” Peter
said. “You, in the middle.” Peter pointed into the middle of the crowd.

All the reporters in the vicinity tried to talk at once.

“Eyes, did you get all that?” Vernezeran said into a microphone on her
wrist. She held her right ear so she could hear the response over all the
reporters.

“Yeah, Vern, we’re awaiting orders,” he answered.

“Take your time. It’s chaos out here,” Vern said. “He won’t be going
anywhere.”

One of Peter’s soldiers whispered something in his ear.

“We’ve put off our hunt long enough. This conference is over! Save your
questions. I will contact the media when I have more time. Please disperse for
now.”

He turned his back on the congregation and walked to the doors of the
capitol to Councilor Suchi, who stood in front of his line of soldiers.

The reporters came up the stairs after him.

“Stall him, Vern,” Eyes said. “HQ is deliberating.”

“Right,” Vern said.

“Suchi. Are you coherent enough to do your job?” Peter said.

“Ready, sir. Here, sir!” he answered.

“Good enough. Get them out of here and make sure everyone is ready to
head out. We have hunting to do.”

“Mobilize! Advance!” Suchi said. “Get these snakes out of here!”

The soldiers formed a blockade between the top of the stairs and the
capitol door.

“I have one more question, Executor.” Vern’s voice rose over the clamor
and caused everyone to hold their ears. Peter winced at the sound.

“That annoying reporter, what’s her name? Vern...” He turned around and
nearly fell over. She stood right in front of him.

“Vernezeran,” she said.

“Ask your question,” the Executor grumbled. “Get your armor and weapons
online and stop gawking, men!”

“Yes, sir!” they said in unison, and turned their armaments on.

“Your question,” Peter said.

“The half breeds. How do you know they’re all so deserving of
eradication?” she asked.

“Force will only be used if necessary,” the Executor said quickly. “We
only want to question them. If they’re deemed harmless they will be set free.”

“We’re taking aim. HQ says he has to be taken out. Vern,” Eyes said.

“Councilor, if you want to keep your position I want...” the Executor
began.

“Fine, wait until I’m out of the way,” she whispered into her mic.

She hoped Michael would understand what had to be done. He had been
blowing up her phone ever since she had texted him saying The Falling Curtain
needed a high ranking rep to intercept Peter. She had been out of touch the
night before when they had tried to contact her to investigate the incident in
The Park, so she felt obligated to show initiative. The chance at humiliating
Peter was a perk. She had never liked him.

Peter had become like a son to him after they took him in. Even after
Michael had defended his festering belligerence and racism by reiterating the
story of how Peter’s parents were killed, she still did not care. Not in the
least.

Peter heard her whisper. “What was that?” he asked.

“Thank you for your time, Executor.” She turned and walked down the
stairs of the capital.

“A helmet!” the Executor shouted to the men behind him. One threw his to
Peter, who put it on and pushed the button on it that brought the half-breed
aura screening technology online.

“It’s going to get rough,” Vern said into her mic. She continued to walk
down the stairs at a casual pace.

“Roger that,” came the voice from the other end.

Peter could now see the auras of all half-breeds within his field of
vision on a screen within his helmet. Any color other than white signified a
possible half-breed. Vern’s aura was green.

“She’s a half-breed! Men shoot on my...” the Executor said.

A small red arrow appeared on his screen and directed his attention
across the street to additional half-breed threats. Myriads of colors moved
inside the building directly across from the capitol.

“Men tap into my current target and hit it with phase rockets. It’s
crawling with demon scum,” he said with his eyes on Vern.

She turned to look at him.