Fall of the Angels

by Josh Raymer

  That could explain why my telepathy isn’t working.

  I try to keep calm, but my anxiety is climbing the more I discover about this place.

  “If this place is for the trash, as you claim, how did you end up here?” I say.

  “I could ask you the same question,” comes her response.

  “An archangel punched me into the wormhole that dumped me here.”

  “Nicely done. Which of those jackasses was it?”

  “Raphael. I actually took the punch for a friend. Well, technically, he’s family.”

  “Figures. Raph always was a hothead. I didn’t think he’d attack a nephilim, though. God’s chosen warrior and all that. He’ll probably get reprimanded by the big man for that one.”

  “What makes you think I’m a nephilim?”

  The woman laughs. Like Lamia, the sound is unnatural and unnerving.

  “For starters, you’re too scrawny to be an angel,” she says. “No offense. Second, you’ve got that constipated expression that all of God’s precious snowflakes have. You mentioned a family member who’s here, which must be Augustus Shaw, and I can see traces of angelic energy swirling around your fists. Imperceptible to the human eye, but I know a cleansing flame when I see it.”

  “I don’t have a constipated expression,” I blurt out.

  “Look, don’t take it personally, kid. Every nephilim I’ve met looked the same way.”

  “You must not be human if you can see my cleansing flame energy. So what are you?”

  “Now you’re asking the right questions, Silas. Walk with me, will you?”

  “How the hell do you know my name?”

  “The nephilim lineage is common knowledge up here. Everyone knows you.”

  The woman begins to walk in the direction she came. Despite my reservations about her motives and trustworthiness, I follow behind her. Even if she is dangerous and attacks me, I’m hoping she’ll at least tell me about this place before I’m forced to deal with her.

  “You know the name Eve, I’m sure,” she says as she glances sideways at me.

  The question feels rhetorical, but I answer anyway.

  “You mean, like, Adam and Eve? The first woman?”

  She lets out a deep sigh and puts her palms together in front of her mouth.

  “What, are you talking about a different Eve?” I ask, confused by her response.

  “No, no,” she replies. “You’re correct—I am talking about that Eve. You’re wrong in saying she was the first woman God created. That’s a lie humanity has been fed for generations.”

  “What are you talking about? It’s in the Bible that God made Adam, then Eve. There’s no mention of another woman in the creation story. Am I missing something?”

  “Genesis was the version of events God wanted humanity to see. Like many accounts of history, it was whitewashed to remove the unsavory parts that cast the author in a bad light.”

  “So God edited Genesis to make himself look better. Why would he do that?”

  The woman stops walking and stares at me with those steely blue eyes. Her expression reads as angry yet resigned. There’s real pain behind that soulful stare.

  “To hide a mistake in his design,” she says, her voice cold and flat.

  “To hide you,” I conclude.

  She nods slowly as her eyes drift back to the desert sands.

  “I was Adam’s first wife, created from the same dirt from which he arose. But I had ambitions of my own that didn’t align with what he wanted from a wife. I refused to serve him, and when God found out, he banished me here and started fresh with Eve, who…well, we see how that turned out. God left me out entirely when he inspired Moses to write Genesis. My name has been lost to history as I rot away in this hellhole.”

  I ask the question she so badly wants to hear.

  “What is your name?”

  The woman stands up straighter and looks at me, those eyes burning bright.

  “My name is Lilith.”

  She shakes her head, laughing as she does.

  “What is it?”

  “You’re the first person I’ve ever shared my name with. Before now, only God and Adam knew my name. Since I was banished here, you’re the first visitor I’ve gotten who survived long enough to share a conversation with. Usually, they’re dead before I can get to them.”

  I turn over these details in my mind, trying to parse out my feelings toward Lilith. I’ve heard it said that being forgotten is a fate worse than death, so in that respect, I have sympathy for her. At the same time, I don’t trust her. Perhaps that’s a byproduct of Gregori’s betrayal, or maybe it’s the gut feeling I’ve had since she first showed her face, but I’m keeping my guard up with her.

  I’ve learned that everyone—human, demon, angel, or otherwise—can spin a narrative that obscures the truth to benefit themselves. According to Lilith, even God did so when he rewrote the narrative in Genesis. If the creator of the universe can spin the truth, Adam’s forgotten first wife can do the same. She’s told me her side of the story, but I still don’t have the full picture.

  For now, I decide to bury my trepidation in the hopes Lilith can get me out of this place.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her, which is true. “Nobody deserves what happened to you. But why did God send you here? Why didn’t he just kill you or wipe your slate clean and start over?”

  That’s what bothers me most about Lilith being here. God was probably upset that the first woman he ever created went against what he intended, but creating a pocket dimension outside of Heaven seems like an extreme overreaction to the actions of one disobedient human.

  “God didn’t want to kill me,” Lilith says, her voice low like a hiss. “In his mind, I would be getting off easy if I were dead. Oh no, he wanted me to suffer for all eternity for my choice to disobey Adam and leave the Garden. I’ve had thousands of years of solitude to think things over, and you know what’s funny? I’d still make the same choice. Adam was an insufferable jackass.”

  She laughs and shakes her head as she says this, turning to look at me. I smile back at her, not necessarily because what she said was funny, but because this exchange is totally insane. I’ve listened to plenty of women trash talk their ex-boyfriends, but this takes it to a new level.

  We continue walking, the suns shining brightly on both of us. With no wind to cool us off, sweat is beginning to bead on my forehead and run down my back. I can’t see myself, but I’m sure I look like hell after hiking to see the archangels, getting decked in the face, and laying in the sand crying for a few minutes. I wipe the sweat from my brow and decide to press Lilith if she knows how I can escape this furnace. The faster I can get out of here, the better it’ll be for everyone.

  “Having been here for thousands of years, is there any chance you know of a way out?”

  Lilith stops walking, her gaze straight ahead before turning to face me. That sly smile is back, and this time it says she knows a secret that she might share…for a price.

  “I might,” comes her quick reply.

  Let’s see if she wants what I think she wants.

  “If you tell me, I’ll take you with me. You’ll finally be free.”

  Lilith’s expression changes. She’s intrigued. As she contemplates my offer, she rubs her chin with her hand and looks me up and down. I hold up my hands to tell her: I’m game if you are.

  “That’s a very interesting offer, Mr. Ford,” she says. “But there’s one little snag that might trip us up. I don’t think God is going to let me just waltz out of this place. After all, he built it for the sole purpose of imprisoning me. If I leave, what’s to stop him from throwing me back in?”

  “I’ll vouch for you,” I tell her. “If he tries to put you back in this place, I’ll threaten to quit being his nephilim. I don’t have many chips to play, but I can pla
y that one.”

  I have no idea where these words are coming from or why I’m saying them. I don’t know what Lilith would be capable of outside this place, and I certainly don’t trust her. I have to think there’s a reason God locked her away beyond punishment for her actions. For all I know, she’s playing me to escape this prison and plans to unleash chaos on Heaven once she’s free.

  If that’s the case, I’m not sure I care. Since my latest vision, my priority has shifted from protecting Heaven to reuniting with Colin, Peter, and the others in Sherwood. They need my help dealing with the fallout of Malphas’s attack more than Augustus does stopping a civil war. I don’t want to abandon Augustus and Bron; however, the time for games has passed. Either the angels can listen to reason and lay down their arms, or we can activate Lightfall. It’s their choice.

  As for Lilith, I’m seizing the best of some bad options. Raphael put me in an impossible situation here. I can die of heat exhaustion or use Lilith to get back to my friends. Whatever consequences arise from trusting Adam’s duplicitous first wife, I’ll deal with it later.

  “What do you say, Lilith?” I ask. “Do you want to get out of here?”

  Her eyes light up at the mention of her name. I’ve got her.

  “You’re crazy, Silas Ford, and I like it,” she tells me. “Follow me.”

  Chapter 8

  8. Heaven’s Garbage Disposal

  As it turns out, even pocket dimensions come with an escape hatch. You just have to know where to find it and have the key that opens the door. Lilith has always known where to find the door, but until now, she’s never been able to open it. She needed me—I’m the key.

  What I mistakenly thought was a vast, featureless desert actually boasts a couple of distinguishing features, among them a large mound made up of mossy rocks. Cut right through the middle is an arched passage, and dead center along the path that cuts through this mound is a pool of water.

  The water in this pool shimmers but doesn’t ripple; its surface is smooth as glass. Just a few feet below the pristine surface is a circular stone that’s reminiscent of a manhole cover. Inscribed on the surface are ancient symbols that are gibberish to me, but I’m guessing they mean something to Lilith.

  “What do the symbols mean?” I ask her.

  We’re standing above the pool, looking down at the door. It only took us a couple of minutes to walk here, and Lilith said nothing the entire time. I’m grateful on both counts. It gave me time to think about how stupid this idea might be, but not quite enough time to change my mind.

  “It’s meant to insult me,” she replies. I’m getting used to her spinning everything as a personal attack by God. “It says: ‘Those who pass must be of pure heart and noble character.’ Neither of which God thinks I am and both of which he clearly assumes you are.”

  “I don’t know about all that, but I guess we’ll see. What do I need to do?”

  Lilith reaches out her hand.

  “Dip your hand into the water,” she says, closing her fist. “It doesn’t look like it from here, but there’s a handle. Grab onto it and pull the door toward you. If you’re worthy, it should open.”

  She pulls her arm into her chest, clutching her wrist with her other hand. I can’t tell if she’s nervous or if her mind is simply elsewhere. Her expression is hard to read.

  Well, here goes nothing. God, if I’m making a mistake, don’t let this door open.

  This last-second appeal to God comes not from my brain but from my heart.

  My hand cuts through the surface of the water without making a single ripple. For a second, this atypical result throws my brain for a loop. My hand is definitely in water, but judging by the unchanged surface, you’d think I had plunged my hand in clear gelatin. I look at Lilith for any kind of explanation. She shrugs her shoulders as if to say, who the hell knows with this place?

  My fingers find the surface of the door, which is surprisingly warm for being under such cool water. Just like Lilith said, there’s a handle that, while not visible from our vantage point, is carved into the door’s surface. I curve my fingers into the opening, adjust my stance, and yank upward.

  The door doesn’t budge. I try again, wagging my free arm in a desperate attempt to generate more force. It’s no use. The door has deemed me too weak or unworthy to open it.

  “Well, damn,” I curse, pulling my arm free of the water. “What do we do now?”

  Lilith rubs her face absentmindedly as she gazes into the pool.

  “I can’t believe it didn’t work,” she mutters. “Why didn’t it work?”

  Her attention suddenly shifts to me. Chills run down my spine as I soak in the desperation trapped behind those pale blue eyes. Like an animal left in a cage, Lilith is dying to be freed from this prison. Just when it seemed like the door was about to open, the lock refused to yield.

  I can understand her distress, but it still scares me. My fists clench instinctively.

  “You must have noble character,” she says. “That’s why God chose you to be his nephilim. So why can’t you open the door? It must have something to do with the purity of your heart. Is your heart really in this, Silas Ford? Do you truly want to escape this desert?”

  I think back to my last-second prayer and where it came from. I didn’t think about praying those words before I went to lift the door. It just…happened. That prayer came from a place that’s removed from the pragmatic approach my brain likes to employ. It originated somewhere deeper, in a place that understands the world around me on a more sophisticated level.

  As much as I want to escape here and return to Sherwood, it seems I don’t have it in me to do things the wrong way. I’m afraid of what might happen when I open the box that God intended to keep closed. He must have a reason for banishing Lilith here. Is my reason good enough to undo that choice and unleash whatever she has planned on Heaven, or possibly even Earth?

  My brain says “yes.” My heart says “no.” The door, for now, stays shut.

  “Of course I want to escape,” I lie, hoping to throw Lilith off the scent. “My friends up here and down below need me. I’m no good to them cooking in this sandbox with you.”

  “I think if that were true,” she says, drawing out each syllable, “we’d already be gone.”

  There’s a long silence during which I can feel the sweat rolling down my neck. Lilith saw right through my attempted feint. She knows I sabotaged my attempt to open the door.

  “I know you don’t trust me, Silas,” she says after a few more agonizing moments. “I don’t blame you. But can’t you at least use me like the God that gave you those fancy powers?”

  “You’re right—I don’t trust you,” I tell her. “I want to get out of here, but I’m afraid of what happens if I take you along with me. I have no idea what someone like you, someone who’s been vilified and held as a prisoner for centuries, will do once your prison door is thrown open.”

  “The last time God threw open prison doors for someone, they went to the temple courts and began teaching.” The way she answers makes the hair on my arms stand on end. “You’ve already made up your mind that I want to destroy God for banishing me here. But you and I both know that would be foolish. I’d rather use my freedom to work on clearing my name. You don’t know what it’s like to have your reputation dragged through the mud since the dawn of time.”

  On a logical level, her explanation makes sense. It would be foolish for Lilith to challenge God directly. Even an indirect challenge would be disastrous. Malphas tried that, and his plan crashed down around him in spectacular fashion. But on an emotional level, how could Lilith not want to go after God for locking her up here? Anybody, human or otherwise, would want vengeance.

  I glance into the pool, staring at the door as if it will reveal the truth to me.

  Those who pass must be of pure heart and noble character.

 
An idea begins taking shape in my mind, nebulous at first but then coming into sharper focus. The door, as it turns out, does hold the answers…potentially. We’ll have to test my idea to find out for sure, but given the standstill we’re at now, it’s worth a shot.

  I reach out for Lilith’s wrist. Seeing the sudden movement, she jerks it away.

  “What are you doing?” she asks, her voice rising.

  I pull my arm back and hold both hands up in front of me.

  “I have a way to test if you’re telling the truth,” I explain. “I’m going to change my heart’s desire and reach in, and you’re going to reach in with me. If you’re planning to do what you say, that means you’re not lying to me, so your heart and character shouldn’t keep me from opening that door.”

  Lilith laughs and closes her eyes as she speaks.

  “Oh, Silas,” she exhales. “God built that door to keep me here. I’ve never even been able to reach my hand past the surface of the water. That’s what he thinks of my heart and my character.”

  “Have you ever attempted to reach in with a nephilim before?” I retort.

  She considers this for a moment, then shakes her head slowly.

  “I can’t say that I have,” comes her reply. “I suppose that does change the equation. You’re thinking as long as I don’t cancel out your mojo, I can ride your coattails?”

  I nod, offering her a small smile.

  “Ah, what the hell,” she says. “Let’s give it a whirl.”

  With a sense of renewed anticipation and excitement, I extend my left arm to her.

  “Hold on to my wrist,” I tell her. “I’ll grab the door handle for us.”

  Lilith’s pale fingers wrap around my wrist. I shiver as her icy skin comes into contact with mine. It’s unsettling for her to be so cold in a desert this hot, but I block that thought out for now and reach down toward the pool. I hold my breath as our hands near the water.

  I exhale as our hands plunge beneath the glassy surface, the combined force once again causing no ripples to appear. I reach down through the cool water and wrap my fingers around the handle.