From Heaven To Earth (The Faith of the Fallen) (5 page)

Drean’s stomach lurched when he hit solid ground. Dizziness escalated
into nausea, and it took a while for his body to adjust to the sudden stop in
his inter-dimensional journey. He held his ivory hair back with one hand and
wiped sweat from his brow with the bottom of his t-shirt.

He watched the cars on the streets below.

What are these colored moving beings that travel so quickly? Surely
the humans must fear these creatures.

He gaped at Nuevas Cruces’ skyscrapers in the distance: the city’s silver
fingers stretched into the air as if they longed to caress Heaven.

If made from Father’s celestinite these structures would rival The
Sanctuary of Heaven.

Drean noticed some pedestrians on the sidewalks below.

Humans? They closely resemble my angel kin except their frames are
much smaller. None of the ones I see are nearly as intimidating as dominations
or as dazzling as the principalities.

He stood at the edge of the building and tried to absorb everything he
saw, smelled and heard: the neon lights of the casinos a few blocks away, the
aroma of sewage mixed with dank moisture from the nearby lake and car exhaust.
He heard a sob below him followed by a howl.

“Are you alright?” he called.

A voice spoke back from beneath him, but it was too far away for him to
hear.

Drean dropped down from the building right in front the man, a
middle-aged beggar enveloped in jackets. He cowered at the sight of Drean.

“It’s okay,” Drean said. “I’m here to help you.”

The man’s language was unfamiliar to Drean: he spoke in hurried
frightened gibberish. It was clear he could not understand Drean any better,
and the man proved inconsolable.

As Drean continued to comfort him, the man’s speech became comprehensible
and somehow Drean was able to make sense of it.

“Suchi promised me more time! No money, none! And I’m out of spellys.
Don’t even have any chanted-dip. No proper high for two weeks... just grass.
Just plain un-spelled weed! Smokin’ out ain’t good enough anymore without
chants!”

The beggar stopped rambling. Drean did not know what to say.

“Are you alright?”

“You aren’t here for drug money?”

“I’m, I’m here to help all of us.”

The beggar looked down and saw Drean’s bare feet.

“Get on your way, you crazy bum. Find your own place to sleep! I’ve had
this spot for months.”

Drean did not know what to make of what the human was talking about, but
it was clear he did not want him near, so Drean walked away.

“Well what do we have here? Are you an enchanter?” said a gruff voice in
the darkness. A man stepped out of the shadows.

A brown overcoat covered his whole body. Its collar hiked up past his
lips, and scraggly brown hair obscured the rest of his pale face.

“I’m just on my way through,” Drean said.

Another human shoved him to the ground and stood over him with a knife.

“We saw you fall from the roof, enchanter. You can’t fool us.”

“This is Councilor Suchi’s district,” the original man said. “Peddle your
spellys elsewhere.”

“Nah he ain’t sellin’ drugs. He’s got to be sellin’ some high class body
enchants to take a fall like that.”

“I... don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Brian. Show him we’re serious.”

“Alright, bro. He’ll be no trouble,” Brian said. He balled a fist and
smiled at Drean.

Drean had not wanted to hurt the humans but his warrior reflexes drove
him to do otherwise. The seraph dodged Brian’s punch and sent him airborne with
a kick.

Brian clanged against a lowered fire escape ladder. He coughed and spat
blood onto the asphalt. He made his way back to Drean, half stumbling, half
running and slashed his face. His knife shattered against Drean’s cheek with a
pop and a flash. Drean glared at Brian.

“What the Hell? That knife was supposed to cut through anything!” his
brother yelled from behind him. “Suchi’s chants have never failed before!”

“I’ll take care of him,” Brian said. He pulled a small patch from his
jacket and slapped it on his upper arm. The enchanted serum in the patch
affected him immediately. His muscles bulged beneath his clothes. He ran at
Drean. Brian threw a punch and Drean caught his fist. Brian felt his
enchantment-induced strength vanish, leaving a blaze in his veins. He frothed
at the mouth and seized.

Anger flushed Drean’s skin.

“Brian!” Brian’s brother ran to him and slapped another patch on his arm.

Brian’s muscles responded once more, and he regained control over his
body.

“He broke the enchantment somehow. Run. He’s some kind of demon.”

Brian’s brother jumped over a fence behind him.

“I’m not a demon! Is that why you attacked me?” Drean asked.

Brian did not answer. He ran.

“Twice I have been feared tonight. Why?” Drean asked himself.

He sensed something, energy he had not felt before.

Drean looked above him. He saw a young woman with bright green eyes and
long black hair watching him. The energy came from her. He jumped to the fire
escape along the side of the building and continued to ascend until he was high
enough to hoist himself onto the roof. When he reached the roof, the woman was
gone.

He heard a flutter above him and looked up in time to see her. Moonlight
shone through her outstretched wings and Drean could see every color in them.
He felt the urge to fly to her, realized he couldn’t and watched her soar away.

There are other angels here? No, she was something else. She was
beautiful.

He dropped into the alleyway and sat. His need to fly reminded him of
Heaven, and he found himself in tears. He missed his duties and his Father. At
least in Heaven he had a direction and was never alone. If he had his wings he
could have flown to the woman in the air, met her and had a companion. He was
wingless and alone.

Why did Father take my wings?

“Welcome to Nuevas Cruces, angel. Enchantment capital of the world,”
Gerald said.

Drean wiped his tears and peered into the shadows. He could sense Gerald
was different before he could see him. After seeing Gerald’s scarred face and
black, windblown hair, Drean decided he was the ugliest human he had seen yet.
He wore a weathered leather jacket, a black collared shirt and dark wash jeans.

“Enchantment capital? Wait, how do you know I am an angel?” Drean asked.

“Because I’m an angel as well.” Gerald’s dark wings looked like black
sand gathering in the air as they became visible. He tried to stretch them and winced.
“Just not as holy.”

“You can hide your wings?”

“Yes. They can become ethereal: invisible and separated from the physical
plane. Aren’t yours?”

“No. God took them.”

“I wonder why?” Gerald asked.

“How are you here on Earth?” Drean demanded, changing the subject.

“At the end of the Heavenly War, many angels were able to escape through
the gates of Heaven to Earth,” Gerald said. “They did so to escape damnation.
We fell to Earth, arriving in different places and different times.”

“How many more of you are here?”

“I’m not sure. I had a few friends in the beginning, but they were either
killed by others or themselves. I haven’t seen another fallen in this city for
years. Doesn’t mean there aren’t some around. We usually stay under the radar.”

“So, are you here to assassinate me?” With adrenaline still pumping from
the ambush, Drean was prepared to fight.

“No.” Gerald hid his wings; the feathers crumbled like dust as the
enchantment took effect. “I’m here to aid you and teach you about the world.”
He grinned. “I’m Gerald.”

“I am Drean. Why are you helping me and not Satan?”

“Let’s just say I regret what we did up in Heaven,” Gerald said, his eyes
glanced over Drean’s clothing and came to rest on his bare feet. He grimaced.
“I’ve been given a second chance by the “Mighty One” Himself to aid you on this
endeavor of yours.”

“What endeavor is...”

“Did God give you these clothes before you left?” Gerald asked.

“Yes, why?”

“Omniscient my ass,” Gerald muttered. “If he knew we’re going out tonight
he would have given you a classier outfit. I guess those jeans are pretty nice
but that shirt...”

“Go out?”

“And no shoes? What was He thinking?” Gerald looked down at Drean’s feet
again, frowned and looked back up at him.

We’ll need to go steal him some nicer clothes
, Gerald thought.
I won’t let any protégé of mine wander the streets without shoes.

“So your wings are gone? How is that possible?” he said. “Can I see your
back?”

“I suppose,” Drean said and let Gerald lift his t-shirt.

“They really are gone. Nice tat!” Gerald said.

“What?”

“A circle of feathers is tattooed at the center of your back. I wonder
why he did that. The detail is amazing.”

“I do not really understand what is wrong with what He gave me,” Drean
said.

How could my Father trust this fallen in the least, when he obviously
has no faith in his design?
Drean thought, his face creased with worry as
he envisioned the fallen angel assisting him with his mission.

“Hey,” Gerald said. “Don’t look so down. We’ll get those clothes off you
as soon as we can.” Gerald gave him a sly wink. “And into something more
appropriate.”

“But how does that relate to the mission?” Drean asked and tried to
ignore the fact that Gerald wanted to undress him.

“Well that’s going to be the hardest thing,” he said. “Introducing you to
Earth’s customs and inhabitants.” Gerald smiled. “We’ll have to make a few
stops but eventually you’ll understand everything as I do. Which brings us to
the second thing we have to do.”

“And what would that be?” he asked.

“Lucifer is the one diverting God’s power. We must enter Hell and
assassinate him.”

“Wait,” Drean said. “God charged me to investigate these matters. How do
you know that Lucifer is the cause of this?”

“What did God specifically ask you to do?”

“He told me to find what is impeding the Faithstream. I’m assuming I’m
supposed to remove that impediment,” Drean said.

“Right. Well Satan, I mean Lucifer or whatever you want to call him, is
the one behind this. What he is using to acquire the stream for himself is what
I’m not sure about.”

“I see. I need to discover his methods. Why did you call him Satan?”

“He decided Lucifer didn’t fit him anymore. I guess he felt he deserved a
change after falling from Heaven and taking over Hell. Anyway, eventually a
confrontation with him will happen. It will probably be quicker to find him
than find out how he’s doing it,” Gerald said.

“A sadistic traitor like him deserves no name,” Drean muttered. “Will the
two of us be enough to overtake him?”

“It will be tough to find a way around his defenses, and I’m not talking
about whatever fortifications and guards he has down there. He’s more like a
flawed version of your Father now. His mind is powerful enough to control Hell
and keep it from Asmodeus’ guard. Even when Asmodeus wins skirmishes, Satan
just creates more demons from the ashes of his dead. I’ve heard that once the
Faithstream intensified Satan’s power, the illusions he could create were so
powerful and convincing they could kill you. That is if he wants them to kill
you. He could just leave you in agony, and if passed out he would still be in
your head, in your dreams, torturing you with not only pain but your greatest
pleasures too.”

Until then, Gerald had not noticed Drean’s silence. The seraph stared at
the ground, his jaw tight with concern.

“What’s up, man?” Gerald asked.

“He’s repulsive. He’s corrupted what my Father stood for and used the
faith of others for selfish reasons, to kill and to torture.”

Gerald wrapped an arm around Drean’s shoulder and grinned at him. Drean’s
anger subsided not because Gerald had comforted him but because his revulsion
for Satan was eclipsed by Gerald’s rotting teeth and fetid breath.

“Well try not to worry about that now, alright? We’ll get you a pair of
Docs, a new shirt, and a leather jacket. It’s going to get cold tonight. Then
we’ll hit up my favorite part of town, The Circ, and acclimate you to life.”

  Nuevas Cruces’ humid slums always smelt like a titanic demon had
fashioned them from spit and vomit. Shrazz decided that since the 1950s the
odor had only grown worse, but it had never bothered him. It made him smile
when nothing else could. Amongst the dregs of the city he was divine. He had no
idea why no one else could see that. He immolated himself twice daily to keep
the smell off himself though. Nothing sanitized the body like a fire-bath.

Shrazz dropped his empty can of Budweiser, kicked it and sent others
skittering across the cracked tile floor. For the first time in a century he
felt impatient, and it had kept him awake for two days. Shrazz had anticipated
this meeting for months, and he tired of waiting on Satan’s word. As soon as he
had it the most important job of his career would begin. Not only that, he
would get to see Riell again in a few hours.

Being highly conscious of time made him feel less of a demon and more of
a human. He chugged another beer to drown that disconcerting thought.

His apartment’s walls and ceiling were deteriorated. Empty beer cans and
pizza boxes were strewn across the floor and counters. Shrazz’s black skin made
him part of the room’s shadows. Dim, yellow light poured in through holes in
the wall from streetlamps outside.

His black treated vagaru scale tunic and matching pants reflected no
light, making him an apparition in the dark. His white formal jacket hung from
the back of his chair. One of its silk sleeves draped longer than the other,
its inner cloth crimson red: a backdrop for rows upon rows of medals he had
earned over the centuries from The Falling Curtain.

Shrazz had left his apartment only once in the past forty-eight hours. He
had to ingest at least one mortal sinner a week to satiate his body’s need for
sin-permeated flesh, or his metabolism would devour his own demonic energy and
kill him.

Unlike most exous, some human foods could curb his appetite. He had
stocked seven boxes of meat-lovers pizza. Still, he had felt hunger pangs
minutes after his last slice. Luckily a glutton with the self-indulgence of
four average humans had wandered near his abandoned complex. No mortal sinner
in a five-mile radius ever escaped his senses when he hungered.

With beer to compliment the human’s soul, the meal had been exquisite. He
wanted to devour him ravenously but ate only his fill and savored every
charbroiled, fleshy bite. His leftovers were on the table. He would finish him
later. 

Shrazz’s hearing wavered like he had been plunged underwater. He threw
his jacket on and buttoned its white gold buttons. Light bent into a corner of
his apartment. Shrazz bowed his head and cupped a fist to his chest in a
salute. His hearing normalized. An imp stepped forward. His oversized black
robes glistened like oil in the sparse light.

“So His champion is finally en route?” Shrazz asked.

The imp bowed to him and produced a folded white parchment from his
garments.

Shrazz nodded in thanks and took the paper. The imp backed into the
corner, and his shadow portal deafened Shrazz once again.

His hands shook as he stroked the paper, but he waited for his hearing to
return before looking at it further. Shrazz took a deep breath to prepare
himself for what the message entailed. He checked his buttons once more,
straightened his coat and unfolded it.

A blood red scrawl of an upright sword within the body of a diving
phoenix glowed at the paper’s center. It burst into flame, ignited the parchment,
and incinerated Shrazz’s flame retardant clothes. He could not inject his Inner
into the flame to control it no matter how he tried. Skin on his arms blistered
and flaked away. He fell to his knees and cried out.

It’s only an illusion,
he thought and fought against his fear. His
vision blurred and dimmed to black as his eyes liquefied in their sockets.

It’s only an illusion.

Shrazz chanted the mantra out loud. The burning sensation simmered down
and was no more.

Light blinded him. He opened his eyes to giant trees, innumerable flowers
of all shapes and sizes and clear skies. He saw a monstrous sun at its zenith,
but its warmth was temperate. Behind him were mountains, larger than the
Himalayas.

“Shrazz, Exous Elite,” a sonorous voice said from behind. “Your willpower
is second to none. Not many surface dwelling beings, even a half-breed of your
stature, can see my illusions for what they truly are and best them.”

He turned to find a naked man with weathered skin: a tan maze of scars
and wrinkles. His long gray hair blew in the wind.

Shrazz knelt before Satan, who smiled at him.

“Satan, thank you for your gracious compliment,” Shrazz said.

“Come, let us walk together as equals today,” he said. Satan held out his
hand. Shrazz reluctantly took it. “I am sure you have questions.”

“My foremost involves your expectations and my obligations.”

Shrazz wanted to be respectful, but the situation made him uncomfortable.

“You do not have to hold my hand if you do not want to.”

“I apologize for my insolence.” He had forgotten Satan could read minds.

Satan laughed and clapped Shrazz on the back.

“Excused. I do not have expectations, Shrazz. That implies a chance of
failure. I know you will succeed.”

“Then I only need to know your mind,” Shrazz said, “as you know mine.”

Satan nodded and smiled.

“What would you like to know?”

“Divinity comes first. What’s next?”

“Using it of course.”

“To what end?” Shrazz asked.

“God is sustained by energy known as Faithstream. I have diverted its
flow for thousands of years but am unable to tap into its fullest capability. I
believe you can and will.”

“If you cannot then how will I harness such energy?”

“As I have said before, steps must be taken. The angel is but the first.
You asked before of obligations. After you subdue him, you will bring him to
me, alive. That is your task.”

Shrazz nodded.

“When will he arrive?”

“This evening.”

“Where will he descend? It will be much harder to track him without a
location.”

“Leoran did not give me all the details,” Satan said. “He is an
archangel, yet he claims he does not even know the caste God is pulling the
angel from, or the angel’s purpose. His feigned ignorance leads me to believe
he has designs of his own. But I can wager it is the seraph, His personal
caretaker. Only he would be worthy of such a charge.”

“I’m sure you would have discerned such intentions if they crossed his
mind,” Shrazz said. “You speak of this seraph like you respect him. What do you
believe his mission entails?”

“Leoran has hidden such thoughts from me before, somehow. The seraph is a
bodyguard of sorts. He and I have crossed swords in the past, but yes I do
respect him for who he is: one of my brothers,” Satan said. “As for the
seraph’s mission, God is sending him to return the Faithstream to His hands.
Watch Leoran closely. He is an opportunist. Do not underestimate either him or
the seraph.”

“I’ll remain wary,” Shrazz said.

Speaking of Leoran seemed to disturb Satan. His lips were puckered like
something sour had hit his tongue.

They came to a high, gleaming staircase of polished stone crafted into
the side of a mountain and ascended.

“So we aren’t in Hell right now?” Shrazz asked as he gaped at the height
of the trees around them.

Satan’s tightened face relaxed at the sound of Shrazz’s voice, and he
grinned at him. Shrazz thought he saw rows upon rows of small sharp teeth, but
when he blinked they looked as dull as human teeth.

“No, we are within the plane of Hell. About a century after I fell I
commenced renovations on this area. It is a sanctuary for my kindred spirits.
My garden.”

At the summit they viewed the land from a wooden gazebo. Carved angels
and demons wept over its roof’s edges. Satan raised his wiry arms and let the
sun bathe him. Shrazz hoped when he aged his body would be just as defined as
Satan’s.

At that height, the blossoms of the forest looked like someone had taken
a paintbrush and swathed pinks, blues, reds and greens across the tops of the
trees.

“This is what you are fighting for Shrazz.”

“Land?”

“No.” Satan laughed. “Peace, prosperity. You and your kind will finally
have a chance to till the Earth as humans do. God is sending his angel to save
himself...”

Satan closed his eyes and seemed lost in thought. He opened them seconds
later, and Shrazz saw tears in his eyes.

“You... miss Him don’t you?”

Satan wiped his eyes and smiled: the saddest smile Shrazz had ever seen.

“He is my Father, Shrazz. Of course I do. Seizing the angel will kill
him. Of that I have no doubt. I will mourn His passing, but we must look at
this as an opportunity. His time has passed. This is only an example of the
worlds we will create for our people once the Faithstream is yours.”

“You can hear what I’m thinking anyway, so I’m just going to be honest.”

“I appreciate that.”

“I wouldn’t want to be in a universe of peace. It’s one of complacence.
What kind of sacrifices would we have to make to be completely peaceful?
Freedom would have to be sacrificed. It would have to be enforced by a
dictator. That would not be me.”

Satan put his arm around Shrazz’s shoulder. Shrazz truly felt awed by
Satan’s nature and yet comforted by him. Empathy and open mindedness were not
traits he had expected to find inside the supreme ruler of the Hells.

“As I said, this is only an example. The rules would be ours to create,
Shrazz, and I want nothing to do with a universe of mindless complacence. I
know my roots well and I do not want that for any living being.”

“Even if freedom was not sacrificed, peace would bore me to death. I was
not made for such a universe,” Shrazz said.

“Worry not. By the time we meet again and the angel is here in Hell with
me, you will be ready to retire. Peace is going to come only through more
bloodshed at this point. It will be the most arduous war you have ever fought.”

Shrazz’s heart palpitated.

“What of the humans?”

“Some of them will resist what is coming. Some will not. Many will die. I
want them to be a part of our world, but that will be their decision.”

“I do not see how they will tolerate us.”

“We will worry of such things when we have to. You should be on your
way,” Satan said.

“Thank you, sir.” Shrazz bowed.

“Insure that his capture is hasty, Shrazz. As I have said, angels are
unstable and unpredictable creatures when thrust amongst things they do not
understand. If he were to have an episode before he reaches me... it will be
catastrophic. You will not be able to control him.”

“He is that powerful?”

“Not even I know the extent of his destructive potential.”

Shrazz’s skin glowed red hot, and he laughed.

“I cannot wait.”

“Has Riell contacted you?”

“She is meeting with me tonight.”

Satan closed his eyes.

“She will be there soon. If she accepts send her as a scout to dive head
first in your stead. You are not ready for the angel yet, but you will be.”

Shrazz raged inside.

“I will follow your wisdom. Riell will make first contact. But what makes
you think she...”

“If you think me wise, trust me. She will aid you in ways you cannot
foresee.”

Shrazz regained his composure.

“Of course. Riell and I will have him here soon.”

Satan nodded and smiled, but Shrazz swore he could see pity in his eyes.

“I will watch from afar. If you maintain your patience a representative
will seek you out and increase your power to a level more suitable for this
confrontation.”

Shrazz sighed and bowed.

“When we meet again, you will be the cornerstone of our new order. Until
then.”

Satan’s body disintegrated into ash and smoke.

Darkness stretched across the sky, blotted out the sun and left Shrazz
blind and cold. A gust of warm wind propelled him upward at such a high
velocity that he thought he would vomit. The darkness lifted, and he stood in
his apartment.

He sat down at the table and relaxed.

Minutes later, he heard a series of knocks, an offbeat tempo like someone
falling down a flight of stairs: an official entry request from a member of The
Falling Curtain.

    
“Yeah, I’m
here,” he said to the knocker.

A door of light appeared and the curvy silhouette of a skia could be seen
against it before the door vanished. Shrazz could see her clearly in the
darkness. His black eyes smoldered like dying coals as he looked upon her.

“Riell.” Shrazz nodded his head at her. “Does it feel good to be back in
your element? Armor always looked good on you.”

He marveled at Satan’s impeccable planning.

Riell let her long black hair down from its bun. She saw Shrazz’s mouth
quirk and knew he had caressed her with his eyes.

“I just came to tell you that I determined the angel’s entry point and
have made contact,” Riell said, through tightened lips. “I’ll be taking care of
it.”

Shrazz could tell by her voice that she had not appreciated his roaming
eyes. She wore well-polished emerald colored armor, trimmed in gold and a black
leather skirt. Despite Riell’s obvious irritation, Shrazz tried to envision the
full figured athletic body beneath it. On her left side a sheath that matched
her armor contained a short sword of corrupted celestinite.

Riell’s translucent wings were folded across her body. They looked like a
black veil over her armor. If Shrazz were a normal human they would have been
imperceptible.

“An impressive deduction. How did you discern that without being
briefed?”

“It’s me, Shrazz.”

“True. True. Your advance will be credited to your TFC account in 24
hours. Need back-up?”