“I agree, we can’t afford any more losses!” Shi’mon said.
“I can have a little chat with Mr. Weinberg first thing tomorrow when he’s alone,” Patrick suggested, still dealing with the pain of losing his brothers. “He must know something about Donald that we don’t!”
“I agree, my son.”
Patrick could feel Shi’mon’s anger brimming over. It was an emotion that Patrick currently shared with his mentor, albeit in equal measure.
“Show no restraint!” Shi’mon ordered. “Do what you must. Those are your new orders. This fallen angel must return whence he came!”
THE END OF PART TWO
PART THREE
THE BOOK FOR THE FALLEN
CREATURES OF CELESTIA! Heed to the dictum of The Logos!
And it shall come to pass that all angels and archangels in the Realm of Celestia shall be free to fall to a realm in a dimension of lower vibrational frequency than that of yours. It shall come to pass that in your fall, you shall address the situation that is your polarization. In your fall, you will forget who you are and whence you came. Your identity as a creature from the Realm of Celestia will elude you, and it will be your responsibility to remember. This will be an esoteric amnesia.
And it shall come to pass that none other from the Dimension of Lemuria shall interfere with the sojourn of another who has fallen. Heed to this warning, you creatures of Lemuria! For your sake, do not undermine this warning! Not only will you instantly cause the fallen one to rise again and align to the light by default, but you will incur the very wrath of The Logos upon yourself! You have been warned!
When Malichiel finished transcribing the message, he rushed to his good friend, Michael, at once and showed him. This was the fourth message from The Logos. Michael read the message over and over and summoned his inner circle. He shared the transcription with them. Uriel was late, and it was unusual for her to be late. But she quickly caught up with everyone.
“At least,” Uriel said when she finished reading the transcription, “we now know that The One and any other of our brethren who chooses to fall, will definitely not be interfered with.”
And the inner council nodded their agreement, while Michael eyed Uriel like he had never done before; with suspicion.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
START TALKING!
LITHILIA WAS FURIOUS! She screamed with rage and trashed her domain. How could any creature make her feel so useless and powerless? Worst of all, that arrogant buffoon called Patrick could even match her in hand-to-hand combat! Damn it! But even as she directed her frustration and humiliation towards everything else but herself, she realized that her impromptu plan to be a distraction to Patrick was just that; an impromptu plan. As such, in her arrogance, she had grossly underestimated her opponent. She cursed, screamed and threw more items all over the floor of her domain.
In her defense, she tried to convince herself, she was not aware of any other presence. Whatever that creature was, it must have come from a realm she had not yet visited, and it would be wise for her to stay away from the creature. It was a ‘her,’ Lithilia thought, based on her features within the violet magnificence. How come they had no information on her? Who was she? Or better yet, what was she? The creature was an unpleasant, very powerful and humiliating surprise. Perhaps later, she would deal with the creature. But in the meantime, she must spread the word that there is something out there that is far more powerful than anything they may have encountered within the Dimension of Lemuria.
“I take it your mission did not go so well?” Kazuk asked from the doorway.
Lithilia was too angry to notice her husband standing there.
“How long have you been standing there?” Lithilia asked.
“Long enough,” he replied calmly and walked into the domain.
“Have you come to gloat?” Lithilia smirked.
“What do you think?” was his reply.
“What are you waiting for then!” she snapped at him. “Let’s hear it!”
“You do realize that transferring your aggression on me won’t change the fact that what happened, happened, right?” Kazuk said calmly.
“Ooohhh, I see what you’re doing!” Lithilia said, pointing at her husband. “You’re just getting back at me for what I did to you earlier, aren’t you?”
“So, what you’re saying is you weren’t being genuine earlier about being supportive,” Kazuk stated, rather than asked.
Lithilia realized her mistake and regretted it.
“I’m sorry, I-” she started apologizing, but Kazuk cut her off.
“I’m not going to lose any energy on that,” he maintained his calm as he spoke, even though he was visibly offended. “But if you’d prefer I leave you alone, I can do that.”
Lithilia paused for a moment and then after taking a few deep breaths, she decided she was acting immaturely.
“I’m truly sorry, my love,” she tried to sound as genuine as possible. “My behavior was childish. Please forgive me! And I’d like you to stay… Please.”
“I accept your apology,” Kazuk replied as he summoned a chair.
Kazuk sat down and opened his arms in a gesture of invitation. Lithilia wanted to scoff at the gesture, but instead she went to him and curled into his lap. He immediately pulled her in close and gently stroked her hair. Lithilia closed her eyes and relaxed into him, letting his warm body and unexpected comfort ease away some of her anger.
“Would you like to tell me what happened?” Kazuk asked.
“It was too humiliating,” Lithilia replied.
“I understand it may have been humiliating,” Kazuk said. ‘Still, I would like to know.”
“First, it was Patrick!” Lithilia exclaimed, her anger rising again.
“What about him?” Kazuk asked.
“His insolence! He thinks he’s untouchable,” Lithilia hissed. “I understand he’s really good, but it’s the way he goes around doing it.”
“Did he beat you in hand-to-hand combat?” her husband asked.
“We were almost evenly matched,” Lithilia replied.
“Did you use any spells on him?” Kazuk asked.
“It would have been too easy,” Lithilia replied sitting upright on his lap. “I wanted to beat him at his own game, in his own territory, on his own terms. But he had help.”
“Help?” Kazuk asked, his curiosity taking on a slight peak.
“Yes, he had help,” she affirmed, “from some creature bathed in violet flames. The thing is, I never saw or felt her coming. What was even worse was that I was powerless against her. It was only when she showed up that I was forced to use a spell; a spell to protect myself.”
Kazuk rubbed his chin pensively. Then he lowered his hand to the armrest and absent-mindedly tapped his index finger on the armrest of the chair several times.
“I wonder what kind of creature this could have been…” he said more to himself than to Lithilia. “Violet flames…”
“And I was powerless against her,” Lithilia added.
Kazuk was still pensive.
“My guess is that given what you can do,” Kazuk said, “she must be from a much higher dimension than ours to be able to render you powerless.”
“But what IS she?” Lithilia insisted. “That’s what I really want to know; what she is and where she’s from.”
“We could do some digging,” Kazuk said. “Maybe we could contact The Scribe or Akasha.”
“I think we could, but I’d prefer we do this ourselves, or use some other means,” she suggested.
Kazuk agreed.
“And your secret weapon?” Kazuk asked, referring to Walter.
“He was expendable, anyway,” Lithilia replied dismissively. “It would have been nice if he had succeeded before he got iced though.”
“True!” Kazuk agreed. “So, what next? Dispatch more Sinisters? Carry out an all-out overt attack?”
“That violet, flaming creature is there!” Lithilia snapped with frustrat
ion at Kazuk’s seeming lack of appreciation of the gravity of the situation. “And if I couldn’t do anything to her, do you think the Sinisters would stand any chance against her? Numbers or not?”
“I see,” Kazuk conceded. “So, what’s the plan now?”
“We wait!” Lithilia answered. “And hope The One makes the switch over to our side whenever he decides to awaken. We cannot afford to make things easier for the other side.”
“Alright then,” Kazuk said. “So be it!”
“And if he does, are you ready to give up your spot as the King of Hell?” Lithilia asked.
“From what I understand, if The One does come over to our side, I won’t have a choice, would I?” Kazuk replied.
Lithilia shook her head, lay back in his arms and closed her eyes.
***
Patrick sat in his rental a quarter of a mile down the road from Newman’s house. He glanced at his watch and back at Newman’s house for the millionth time. It would soon be midday, and neither Donald nor Newman had left the house. If Newman left the house, he would tail Newman and catch up with him. If Donald left the house, it would be even better. Then he could be more ‘efficient’ with getting Newman to talk. He was still furious at the number of his brothers who had met their end thanks to Walter Whoever he was or is, he better be damn important! The deaths of his comrade brothers better be for a freaking great cause or so help him, God…. Well, he decided not to get ahead of himself.
The front door to Newman’s house finally opened, and Donald strode out, dressed in a tucked-in red and black flannel shirt and a pair of nut-hugging, sperm-killing jeans. His spit-shined boots glistened in the sun, and he held his keys in his left hand as he headed towards one of Newman’s pickup trucks. As Donald was about to back out of the compound, Newman came running out of the house, waving at him and calling his name. Donald stopped, and Newman walked over to the window of the driver’s section. After a few seconds, Newman walked back to the front porch of his house and watched as Donald backed out of the driveway and headed towards town. When Newman walked back into the house and closed the door, Patrick exited his rental and walked calmly towards Newman’s house. He mounted the stairs leading to Newman’s front porch, pressed the doorbell and waited.
“Keep calm now!” he muttered to himself.
The door opened, and the surprised face of Newman peered through the glass partition.
“Can I help you, son?” Newman asked.
“Yes, you can, Mr. Weinberg and I’ll make this simple and quick,” Patrick replied and noticed how Newman’s eyes narrowed, but he made no move to step away from the door.
“Okay…,” Newman said.
“I’m here to talk about the fallen angel who lives with you,” Patrick said a matter-of-factly, and to his pleasure, he saw Newman turn as pale as a ghost.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Newman lied and started shutting the door. “You best be on your way now, son, before I call the cops.”
Newman closed the front door and locked all the latches and locks on the door. He then turned around to head upstairs but instead, he almost collided with Patrick standing directly behind him.
“I wasn’t done talking to you, old man,” Patrick spoke, and his demeanor was as intimidating as he could summon.
Patrick was pleased to see that Newman was petrified with fear.
“How… how…” Newman stammered and swallowed.
“You have a fallen angel in your house, and teleportation scares you?” Patrick asked. “Come on now, old man. Just wanna talk.”
Newman wanted to make a quick dash up the stairs to retrieve his rifle.
“Look here, old man, do you really think you can run faster than me?” Patrick asked. “For God’s sake, I just popped up in your living room! Shouldn’t that ring some kind of bell in that old head of yours?”
Newman froze mid-stride as Patrick turned around to face him.
“Please, sit!” Patrick ordered. “One more stupid move from you and you won’t like what Imma do to you. And yes, I will hurt you; pretty badly, if I have to. Up to you how you wanna do this!”
Patrick waited for Newman to comply, but Newman was frozen in place.
“I said SIT!” Patrick yelled and Newman was shocked to compliance.
Patrick pulled a chair and placed it a few feet in front of Newman. He whipped out his phone from his pocket, scrolled through some apps and tapped on what he was looking for. He handed the phone over to Newman, who took it with a confused and frightened look on his face.
“Press ‘PLAY’!” he ordered.
Newman complied. What he saw horrified him even more. In the video, there were two men in the shadows, watching over a house that looked like his. Suddenly, there was a circular burst of light, like a portal in one of those fantasy movies, and three creatures that looked like humans jumped out of the portal. The two men attacked the creatures and killed all three of them with the expertise of very well-trained assassins. But in the process, one of the creatures had dealt a fatal blow to one of the humans, and he eventually died. The video stopped, and Newman handed the phone back to Patrick. He looked like someone who had just missed death by the skin of his nose and was still in total shock.
“We call those creatures ‘Sinisters’ and those two men, Kim and Juan, are my good friends,” Patrick said, returning his cell phone to his pocket. “Well, Kim is dead now. And yes, the house in the video is your house!”
“But…,” Newman tried to speak, but he was lost for words.
“This has been going on for a while now. Ever since the angel showed up in your backyard. The Sinisters came to kill him, and many of my brothers have died trying to protect him and consequently you.” Patrick spoke with ice and anger in his voice. “Do you understand what I’m saying so far, old man?”
“Yes,” Newman replied weakly and swallowed.
“Good, and now, before I lose my cool, you will tell me every single thing you know about this angel or so help me God I’ll send you to join my fallen brothers,” Patrick assured Newman.
There was not an ounce of humor left in his being.
“I don’t know anything…” Newman lied.
Before he could finish his statement, Patrick sparked the ethers into a small knife in his right hand. He threw it between Newman’s legs. The knife stuck dangerously close to Newman’s testicles.
“Listen, old man,” Patrick continued and made the knife disappear. “It doesn’t have to come to this. At least, for the sake of those who have given their lives to protect you and your guest, tell me everything you know about the fallen angel!”
“I ain’t told him nothing yet,” Newman said weakly, after a moment of silence.
“And you think I don’t know that?” Patrick asked rhetorically. “I know he doesn’t remember anything before his fall, and you haven’t told him anything either. What I’m asking you is to tell me what you haven’t told him yet. Can you do that, or do I have to make you?”
Newman hesitated. Patrick whipped out his phone.
“Maybe you want me to show you some more videos of my brothers dying because you’re too caught up in your stupidity even to appreciate words like ‘common courtesy’ and ‘respect,’” Patrick added.
“That won’t be necessary,” Newman said, and he suddenly aged a decade more.
“Start talking!” Patrick ordered.
“There may not be enough time-” Newman started saying
“Then quit stalling old man!” Patrick yelled. “Don’t test my patience!”
Newman heaved a sigh and started narrating the events that took place the night of the fall. Patrick asked as many questions as he could, and Newman answered as many as he could. Forty-five minutes later, Patrick rose from his seat to leave. He had a lot of thinking to do. He may not want to overwhelm the angel all so suddenly because, after all, the old man could be right. What if this fallen angel’s agenda was not one that would benefit mankind? Patrick did not know how,
but he would have to assist this angel to recover his memory. They must hope for the best and prepare for the worst. The O.R. had no experience with fallen angels, but there is a first time for everything.
***
Donald made a stop at the gas station to get some gas before he returned home. As he was pumping, a car pulled up on the other side of the gas pumps and a few seconds later, a little girl, jumped out of the car and ran towards Donald. She was smiling from ear-to-ear, and Donald smiled back. He picked up the six-year-old, threw her in the air and caught her as she came down. He repeated the motion about four more times, and each time the little girl screamed with pure joy. Her parents smiled at the playful pair and shook their heads. Donald cradled her on his hip, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he walked back towards her parents.
“How is my little angel doing?” he asked her.
“No, YOU’RE the angel, Mr. Donald!” she replied and turned around to face her parents. “Mommy, daddy, don’t you guys see his wings?” she stabbed at the air above Donald’s shoulders. “They go all the way from there to there!”
Donald shook hands with her parents, still cradling the little girl on his hip.
“And you, my little angel, are a muse in the making,” Donald said, kissing her on the forehead. “Who did you get that from? Mommy or daddy?”
“I’m serious!” she insisted. “Look! He has wings, and they’re here!”
The little girl pointed at the space behind Donald’s back and traced what were supposed to be Donald’s wings.
“See, I told you not to call her your little angel anymore,” her mother joked, and Donald set her back to the ground.
The little girl reached up as if to touch something on Donald’s back; but her hands brushed through air.
“She is an angel, ma’am,” Donald said. “I can’t help it.”
“Well, that she is,” said her father. “And you should stop by the house sometime for dinner, Donald. It’s been a while.”
“I sure will Mr. McCoy,” Donald replied. “Thank you kindly.”
Donald then turned his attention to the little girl and waved at her. She waved and pointed at his shoulders with her little index finger. She then spread her arms outwards on both sides and flapped them like wings. Donald smiled and did the same. Her grin broadened as Donald walked back to the truck. Her grin broadened because she saw Eliel spread his wings outwards and flapped them twice as he walked back to the truck. But Donald had no idea what was going on with him.
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