The Fallen 4

by Thomas E. Sniegoski

  “So we’re going after this evil before it can get to us?” Melissa questioned.

  “Exactly,” Aaron said.

  “Okay. We find it… but then what?” she asked.

  “We give it a reason to be afraid of us,” Aaron said, not really liking the cruelty he heard in his voice but knowing that it was completely necessary.

  “When we find it, we kill it.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Aaron’s words sent a chill of dread down Vilma’s spine.

  She knew this was the way it had to be, but hearing the guy she loved speaking so violently drove home how dramatically things had changed for them.

  For her.

  There was a piece of her that understood these destructive times, taking to it almost like second nature. That was the Nephilim, the part of her that existed to fight evil and keep the darkness at bay.

  But then there was the other part, the often scared human part that looked at all of this—what the world was becoming—and wanted to hide until it was safe again.

  But her Nephilim instinct wouldn’t let it. Her Nephilim told her scared human that it had to be strong, that if they couldn’t work as one, the world would fall all the faster, and everyone and everything that meant anything to them would be lost.

  Hearing Aaron speak about hunting down their enemies and killing them was a wake-up call. This was now her reality. And those chills of dread she felt—well, they were all just part of the package.

  “He’s right,” Vilma said, adding her voice to Aaron’s. “We hit this evil before it can hit us. Make it afraid. Maybe it’ll get sloppy.”

  “Spoken with experience,” Verchiel said sarcastically.

  “Dude, was that really necessary?” Dusty asked. “Your mother not give you enough hugs or something?”

  “Mother?” Verchiel questioned. “Do you have any idea who or what you’re addressing?”

  “I know you’ve got the wrong attitude,” Dusty said.

  “Enough,” Aaron ordered. “Let’s save the attitude for the enemy.”

  Vilma was surprised when both Verchiel and Dusty remained quiet.

  Aaron looked as though he were going to continue, but he was interrupted by a cry from outside.

  Vilma recognized the voice immediately. It was Cameron. He hadn’t answered Lorelei’s call. Vilma shot an inquisitive glance at Melissa, who quickly looked away.

  Vilma dashed out toward the noise, and the others followed. She gasped as she caught sight of Cameron sitting in the grass, holding the body of another man in his arms. Their clothes were covered in blood.

  “He’s hurt,” Cameron blurted out as Vilma knelt down beside them.

  “Does any of this blood belong to you?” Vilma asked, pulling at Cameron’s shirt, looking for wounds.

  “Blood?” Cameron questioned.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked firmly.

  “No. No, I’m fine.”

  She turned her attention to the stranger in the Nephilim’s arms. “I thought you were resting,” she said to Cameron as she began to open the man’s shirt.

  “I went out… I couldn’t…,” Cameron said quickly, and began to recount how the stranger had been hurt.

  But his voice was nothing but a drone to Vilma. She stared at the bleeding gash across the man’s chest, then at the strange, alien symbols that covered nearly every inch of his exposed flesh.

  “What is this?” she asked almost to herself.

  But she received no answer. Instead the familiar sound of a heavenly sword surging to life distracted her. She turned to see Verchiel raise the blade of fire above his head.

  And prepare to bring it down upon the injured man.

  * * *

  Verchiel’s scream of fury as he readied to kill the helpless, injured man conjured painful memories, reminding Aaron of a time not long ago when he had been the target of Verchiel’s attacks.

  The attacks had been vicious, but at least he had been conscious to defend himself.

  Verchiel’s blade had begun to descend in a sizzling arc, dangerously close to Vilma, when Aaron finally acted. His own blade of divine fire surged to life, and he thrust it forward to block Verchiel’s sword. The two weapons exploded with sparks as they met, and he felt the angel’s icy gaze upon him.

  “You have no idea what you’re doing, boy,” Verchiel warned. “Leave it be and let me finish what I have started.”

  “I’m not going to let you kill this man,” Aaron said defiantly.

  He saw that Vilma had created her own blade, also ready to protect the fallen stranger.

  “You talk about killing monsters, yet here you are protecting one of the greatest that ever existed,” Verchiel proclaimed, fury burning in his eyes.

  It was then that Aaron really looked at the blood-covered man lying upon the ground. He wasn’t human. The man bore the scent of an angel.

  “Who is he?” Aaron asked, pushing Verchiel back.

  “His name is Mallus,” Verchiel said, his every word dripping with contempt. “And next to your Morningstar, he is the greatest murderer Heaven has ever born witness to.”

  * * *

  As the angel Mallus drifted between conscious and unconscious, he heard the voice of one he had once called brother.

  And he remembered.

  The war had yet to begin, but they knew that it was inevitable. The Morningstar’s legions were amassing in the golden fields, waiting only for Lucifer’s final order to attack.

  Mallus was torn, wondering if there was any way—any chance—that war could be averted.

  Lucifer had said he’d tried to explain their position to the Almighty, how the angels felt as though they were being cast aside, but even as the Lord God’s most loved, Lucifer Morningstar’s pleas had been rebuffed.

  The Creator had told all the angels of Heaven that He had a plan and that was all that they needed to know.

  But Lucifer and his minions were not satisfied with that answer. They feared what was to come… feared that God would no longer love them best. They felt as though they’d been left with no choice but to show their displeasure.

  And so, Lucifer and his legions planned for war.

  Mallus wanted to believe his Creator, but he’d seen the fires of hurt and rage burning in his brother Lucifer’s eyes. And it was all because of these new creatures that God had introduced to the Garden.

  These humans.

  Mallus wanted to understand. He now went to Eden, to look upon these animals for himself, to see what the Morningstar and so many others of their ilk feared. Clad in armor of impending war, perched within the branches of the Tree of Life, Mallus secretly watched the humans.

  The humans slept, wrapped in each other’s arms, by the side of a rushing stream. Their design was fascinating but fragile. Yet as he looked closer, Mallus began to understand how special God had made these creatures.

  “Hopefully you are questioning the Morningstar’s madness,” a voice stated very close by.

  Mallus turned with a start to see that he was no longer alone. The angel Verchiel was perched upon a nearby branch.

  “I wanted to see for myself,” Mallus said, turning back to watch the sleeping humans. “I wanted to see if Lucifer’s fears were valid.”

  Verchiel looked upon the humans as well. “The Lord loves them,” he said. “That should be enough for us to love them too.”

  “But does He love them more than us?” Mallus asked.

  “Does it matter?”

  “To Lucifer and the others it does.”

  “And to you?”

  Mallus continued to stare at the sleeping couple. “He gave them something special,” he said after a while.

  “He is the Creator. It is His right.”

  “He gave them a piece of Himself.”

  “The Creator calls it the soul,” Verchiel explained.

  “This soul… it makes them more like Him, closer to Him.”

  Verchiel agreed.

  “And they can create others o
f their kind?” Mallus asked him. “Can this be true?”

  “It is.”

  Mallus understood what it was that had filled so many of his brothers with such fear. “They will replace us,” he said simply.

  “If that is His will, so be it,” Verchiel said.

  Mallus suddenly felt the hatred growing in his heart. “Nothing good will come of them,” he said, having made up his mind.

  “That is not for us to decide,” Verchiel admonished him.

  “But we can show Him, tell Him how we feel.”

  “I see you have made your decision,” Verchiel said sadly.

  “I have,” Mallus answered.

  “Even though it will mean the death of many of your brothers,” Verchiel warned.

  “War is not something I take lightly,” Mallus said to Verchiel. “But I would slay all of Heaven itself so as not to lose His love.”

  Then Mallus flew from his perch in the Tree of Life and returned to his commander and those who had sworn allegiance to Lucifer’s cause.

  That was the last time Mallus saw Verchiel as brother and friend.

  And the first time he saw him as an enemy.

  * * *

  Verchiel reared back, withdrawing his sword, but he did not wish it away.

  “I will not let you kill him,” Aaron said with all the authority he could muster.

  He watched as Verchiel stood, tensed like a cobra ready to strike. But Aaron was ready as well.

  “And that is why you will fail against your enemies,” Verchiel said, finally allowing his sword of fire to dissipate with a hiss and a whoosh of air. “You are not capable of making the kinds of decisions required to win this war.”

  “No, I’m just not going to make those kinds of decisions based entirely on your say so,” Aaron retorted, lowering his own blade. “I guess it’s a trust thing.”

  Verchiel snarled, turning, and walked away.

  “I guess there’s a history,” Vilma said to Aaron as they watched Verchiel stalk off.

  “I’d say so,” Aaron replied.

  Kraus was already tending to the injured angel, applying his medicines to the wound. “I’ve managed to stop the bleeding, but I need to get him back to the clinic,” he said, standing up.

  Aaron gazed at Cameron. The young Nephilim suddenly looked as though he wanted to be anywhere but there, on the receiving end of his leader’s glare.

  “You do realize that there isn’t any room for disobedience?” Aaron asked him.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I understand.”

  “Do you really?”

  Cameron nodded, then averted his eyes from Aaron’s intense stare.

  “Help Kraus get his patient to the clinic,” Aaron ordered.

  The young man helped the healer lift the unconscious angel, and the two dragged him off toward the infirmary.

  “That was a little soft, don’t you think?” Vilma commented.

  “What did you want me to do, ground him?”

  “He disobeyed an order… my order,” she said.

  “And that’s unacceptable,” Aaron agreed. “But we’re entering dangerous times, and Cameron will be playing a very important role.”

  “I’m just not sure he understands how dangerous it was for him to go off by himself like that.”

  “If he didn’t before, now he will,” Aaron assured her. “Maybe we’ll team him with Verchiel. That’ll teach him the error of his ways.”

  Vilma chuckled, and Aaron was relieved to hear the sound.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Melissa approach, then hesitate.

  “Everything all right?” he called out to her.

  “Yeah,” she said as she took a deep breath and stepped closer. “I just wanted to say that if Cameron’s in trouble, then I should be in trouble too.”

  “And why is that?” Vilma asked. “Did you fly off on a solo mission too?”

  “No,” Melissa said. “But I knew he was gone… and I chose not to tell you.”

  “And you know that was wrong?” Vilma asked her.

  “Yes,” Melissa answered quietly, her body tensing as if preparing for the worst.

  Vilma looked to Aaron, awaiting his verdict.

  “Then I think we’re done here,” he said.

  “We’re done?” Melissa repeated. “That’s it?”

  Aaron nodded. “Go give Kraus and Cameron a hand back to the infirmary.”

  Melissa started to leave, then stopped. “I really am sorry,” she said quickly to Aaron and Vilma, then turned and ran to catch up with the others.

  Vilma watched her go. “She seems so much like a kid,” she said to Aaron.

  “Kid?” Aaron repeated, then laughed. “You probably only have a year or two on her.”

  “It feels like a long time since we were kids, doesn’t it?” she asked. She moved to stand very close to Aaron. “I almost can’t remember,” she said quietly, and leaned her head upon his shoulder.

  Aaron put his arm around her and squeezed her closer. “Do you think I’m crazy?” he asked.

  “Generally?”

  He squeezed her tighter, just to hear her laugh.

  “Seriously, do you think this idea I’m pitching is the right one, about being proactive?”

  “It’s risky, I’ll give you that, but at this stage what choice do we have?”

  “I know,” Aaron said. “The world doesn’t seem to be getting any better, and unless we can step up our game, it never will. And even if we are proactive…”

  “Now, don’t you start sounding like Verchiel,” she warned, hugging him tightly.

  “He’s not totally wrong,” Aaron admitted.

  “Oh, c’mon,” Vilma said, giving him a shove. “If we followed his lead, we would just lie down and die now, and save ourselves the hassle. I don’t buy it.”

  “But there are only so many of us, and way more evil creatures.”

  “Then we’ll just have to work all the harder,” Vilma declared.

  “Yeah, but I’m starting to wonder…” Aaron gazed off in the direction that Kraus had taken their injured guest.

  “Share,” she ordered, looking up at him and thumping his chest with her hand.

  “Our mysterious stranger. How many more of them are out there in the world? How many fallen angels weren’t forgiven and never returned to Heaven? How many of them are there—and would they be willing to help us?”

  Vilma looked toward the infirmary.

  “Huh,” she said, finally understanding his point. “Then I guess we’d better hope he doesn’t die.”

  “Or that Verchiel doesn’t kill him,” Aaron added.

  * * *

  Bending the shadows to his will, Satan left his dwelling beneath the cold of the earth to pay a visit to his allies in his quest to order the world.

  The Sisters did not seem at all surprised to see him.

  “Hark, is that the king of all that flies, slithers, bounds, and crawls?” asked the first of the hunched, hooded figures.

  “But why would one such as he visit three lowly ones like us?” asked the second.

  “Perhaps he is eager to know of our progress?” suggested the third.

  The three robed shapes huddled around an enormous stone cauldron, wafting clouds of foul-smelling smoke obscuring what bubbled within.

  The Three Sisters of Umbra reached within the pot, their long-fingered hands adorned with razor-sharp claws that wove the thick, billowing smoke into shapes representative of the world of man.

  A world that Satan hoped to subjugate soon.

  “The darkness comes all the faster, limiting the time of light, but it is still not constant,” he said.

  One of the three turned her hooded gaze to him, only two burning pinpricks of light visible within the darkness of the cowl. “A tremendous responsibility to bestow upon such lowly ones as us,” she said.

  “But a task we assault with much vigor,” said another, waving her hands through the exhaust roiling from the seething pot.

&n
bsp; Though they were content to wear the guise of lowly subjects, Satan knew them to be far more than that. He had heard rumors that they were some of the first beings upon God’s world, always lurking somewhere in the shadows, always eager to corrupt and bring about the downfall of man.

  Satan wondered if they too had been wronged by the Almighty, when He’d brought the accursed light into the universe. He’d broached the subject with the Sisters in the past, but their answers had been cryptic.

  All Satan knew was that their dark magicks were unsurpassed and that they were allies in his war against the light. He had a certain fondness for the three Sisters, especially since his own brothers and sisters of darkness had met with unfortunate fates during the battle when Satan had taken control of the Morningstar’s form. Although he would have reduced his sisters and brothers to ash anyway if they had shown any signs of betrayal.

  “Fear is high, and despair grows thick, but we still do not have enough strength to bring about the total fall of dark,” said the last of the three.

  All three Sisters turned their hooded faces to Satan, and spoke in turn.

  “We require more energy, oh blackest of stars.”

  “Terror and sadness must permeate the atmosphere.”

  “The Fear Engines must be fed if the night eternal is to fall.”

  “You will have your horror and misery,” the Darkstar said. “Your dearth of hope.”

  From a patch of shadow came an impish voice. “Master.” Satan recognized his servant Scox. “Master, the Community leaders await your address.”

  It was time. Satan would unify the Community under his command, to speed up the fall of humanity, but first they had to learn to recognize his omnipotence.

  Once more the Sisters spoke.

  “You are summoned, oh darkest of stars.”

  “Do not dally, for there is much to be done to make the world yours.”

  “Show them who you are.… Show them who they must serve.”

  The Darkstar spread his wings in a whoosh of stagnant air, eyeing the three as he prepared to leave.

  “I will do my part, and you will do yours,” he commanded, using his wings to lift himself from the ground toward the patch of shadows that would transport him to the gathering of fiends.