Though the Brightest Fell (The Brooklyn Angels Series Book 1)

by Nola Cancel

  Still staring at the picture, Nan wished she could go back in time to that day when the only worry she had was the nagging feeling that no one got to be this happy. She was right.

  Returning the frame to the mantel, Nan said softly, “I still love my husband very, very much, but I’m pretty sure we need to go our separate ways now.”

  “But why?” Azriel pressed. “Because her husband is a piece of shit who treated the best thing in his life like absolute garbage.”

  Joe stood at the entrance to the living room. By his side was another stunning angel like Azriel.

  “JOE! What—how?” Nan knew she was babbling but continued to struggle to find the right words. She was still incredibly mad at him, but at this very moment, could not remember why. The only thing she knew from the second she spotted him in this house, was how much she still loved her husband and how much she would always love him. It took her two whole seconds to run into his arms.

  Joe held her for all he was worth. “I love you! I love you! I love you!” he repeated as he planted tiny kisses all over her face. “Please give me one more chance, just one more,” he begged. “I promise this time I won’t blow it. I promise for all that I’m worth!”

  Nan took a good look at her husband and for the first time, in a long time, he was her husband and not some strung out junkie. His pupils weren’t dilated and he wasn’t slurring his words.

  “How did you get well? What happened to the drugs?” she asked, holding his face in her hands and staring deeply into his eyes.

  “I’ll explain everything, I swear,” Joe said, hugging her to him once again, “but first there’s something I’ve got to do.”

  Joe reluctantly let his wife go and walked over to where Azriel stood by the mantel.

  “I want to apologize for what I did to you. I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” Joe looked directly into the angel’s eyes, praying he could feel his sincerity. “I was sick and desperate,” he glanced back at his wife, “and I never really thought about what I was doing to you. I never considered it might cause you pain. I’m so sorry. For everything.”

  Azriel was silent. He looked over at the photos on the mantel again and saw a picture of Nan, Joe, and their son. If happiness could be captured, it was evident in this snapshot of a better time for all of them. He might not understand human love yet, but now he had hope that one day he would.

  “You are married to a wonderful woman,” Azriel said.

  “Thank you. I know that now.” Joe smiled, his eyes fixated on Nan.

  “Treat her as she deserves to be treated and we shall never speak of this again.”

  “I will,” Joe said, “and thank you for saving my life. I know I can never repay you, but if there’s ever anything you need from me, just ask.”

  “Make your wife happy again and that will be payment enough,” Azriel said.

  As if on cue, Michael walked towards Azriel until they stood face-to-face, no more than six inches apart.

  “My brother,” Michael said, taking Azriel in his arms and hugging him tight. “It is so good to see you.”

  “And you, as well,” Azriel said, returning the hug.

  When they had separated, they both knew words were no longer necessary. Being of one mind, they were already certain of how much they meant to each other.

  “We must prepare,” Michael began, his voice taking on its normal authoritative tone. “Belial and Malachi are on their way here. They mean to destroy me, kill the humans, and take you back to Brooklyn and completely drain you of your essence. This will not happen.”

  “Joe,” Nan said, walking over to where her husband stood. She was noticeably scared. “What the hell is he talking about? Who the hell is this Belial and what does he want from us?”

  Joe took his wife’s hands in his own, where they belonged. “Don’t worry about them, Nan. We got this. Michael and I—”

  Before he could finish his sentence, Joe’s cell phone rang. Looking down to see who it was, he turned and handed it to Michael.

  With a voice that had lost the confidence it had possessed a moment ago, Joe said, “It’s Belial.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Maria’s neighbors, the McCormicks, had lived next door to her family since way before her parents died.

  They had been married for fifty years, and as happens when a couple is together that long, they developed set patterns that they followed routinely every day.

  Mr. McCormick was 89. He was a retired train conductor for the Manhattan Transit Association, whose 45 years on the job had left him almost completely deaf.

  His wife, Eleanor, was a life-long housewife who had raised five children on one salary. To supplement their income, Mrs. McCormick would knit baby clothes and sell them at flea markets. With the extra money, she was able to get the kids a few things they really wanted.

  But, that was quite a while ago. All her children were grown now with kids of their own and the only knitting she did was baby blankets for the newborns at Rigby’s Children’s Hospital. As long as she was still able, no baby would go home without their own blanket.

  She was also a big fan of crossword puzzles—any crossword puzzles. When the kids came over to visit, they would bring her a bunch of crossword puzzle magazines.

  On this day, Mr. McCormick was sitting in his usual spot on the recliner in front of the television. His hearing aid was turned down low and he preferred it this way. He didn’t need to hear the old movies on the Turner Classic Movies channel, since he had seen them all so many times before. He, especially, didn’t need to hear his wife scream for help with her puzzle every five minutes. Truth be told, he thought it was funny when she had to repeat herself over and over. Like she was doing now.

  “Ed, I need a five letter word for terrifying,” she asked without looking up.

  “What?” he answered, starting to giggle.

  “A five letter word for terrifying?” she asked again, getting annoyed as her voice grew louder.

  “Huh?” he said with a smile. This would be good.

  Screaming at the top of her lungs, she said, “A FIVE LETTER WORD FOR TERRIFYING!”

  “Scary,” the human wall with a hole in his face and a skeleton hand said as he grabbed Mrs. McCormick’s puzzle magazine and shoved it down her throat until she could no longer catch a breath and died where she sat.

  “Made you choke on your own words, bitch,” he said, an evil grin on his face.

  “Eleanor, did you come up with that word?” her husband asked, upset that his little game had ended so soon.

  “Yeah, she got it,” Mr. Scary said as he used Mrs. McCormick’s knitting needle to stab Mr. McCormick in his jugular and watched as he bled out.

  Whatever that creep in the Lincoln has shot him up with, he had to admit he was feeling no pain. and was actually getting a big kick from what he had

  accomplished here.

  “Sic fiat,” he said in Latin as he picked up Mrs. McCormick’s knitting from the table and wiped off the blood from the needle he had used to kill her husband.

  Let’s see what we have here, he thought as he sat on a chair near the kitchen window where he started to knit as he waited for his next victim.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  An hour later, Maria pulled into her driveway. On any other day, she might have found the motorcycle parked in front of her neighbors’ house a

  little strange. After all, the McCormicks were both in their eighties. She might have also noticed the unmistakable odor of burning flesh, but Maria was in a hurry.

  Michael would be home soon and she was going to make him her famous baked ziti and meatballs.

  Her mother had been a fantastic cook and Maria learned by her side when she was very young.

  Maria opened the door to the little house she shared with Michael. Despite his reluctance to talk about his past, she had never been happier.

  She put the groceries on the kitchen counter, took off her jacket, and began looking for the right
pots and pans for the ziti.

  “Oh crap!” Maria jumped back. In her rush to get started, she dropped the glass lid for the saucepot and watched as it broke into pieces.

  Bending down to pick-up the larger shards of glass, Maria carefully placed them on the countertop. Before she grabbed the broom and dustpan, she turned the music-streaming app on her cell phone to her favorite station, Broadway Hits. Nothing like some good music to keep you company while you cook.

  As I Don’t Know How to Love Him from Jesus Christ Superstar played, Maria swept up the remaining glass on the floor and threw it in the garbage can.

  “He’s a man. He’s just a man and I’ve had so many men before in many, many ways—he’s just one more,” Maria sang at the top of her lungs, skipping and replacing words she didn’t know.

  “You have a very pretty voice.”

  Maria’s stomach turned as she looked up from the can of spaghetti sauce she was opening.

  Standing in her kitchen, no more than a foot away, was the most frightening image she had ever seen. It was a man. At least, she thought it was a man but it was hard to be certain. Half of his face had been badly disfigured with loose skin still hanging from a gaping hole in his cheek. His left eye drooped badly and was practically shut.

  She tried to scream, but before a sound could come out he clamped his hand, or the bones of his hand since it no longer had any skin, over her mouth.

  The smell of burnt human flesh and the feel of his peeling skin on her face made her gag and forced her to swallow the bile that lurched up her throat and into her mouth.

  “We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Mr. Scary whispered in her ear as he pressed his hard on into her leg. “Either way, I’m good.”

  Barbra Streisand’s beautiful rendition of Oh My Man from Funny Girl played in the background of Maria’s worst nightmare and all she could think about was Michael. Will I ever see him again? Does he know how much I love him? She hoped so and prayed to God that he did.

  “Now,” Mr. Scary said as the excess spit spilled out of the hole in his face, “we’re going to take a ride and meet up with some folks in Brooklyn.”

  “I’m going to let go of your mouth, but if you scream, if your voice rises above a volume I don’t like, I’ll fill your mouth with something so you can’t make a sound.” He smiled as his face continued to look as if it wanted to be anywhere else but on him.

  Mr. Scary slowly let go of his grip. “Where are your garbage bag tie-wraps?” he asked.

  “I—I don’t use plastic, only paper,” Maria stammered.

  “Oh, for the love of— What the fuck is wrong with you fucking recycle people?” He was rambling as he looked through her kitchen drawers for something else he could use to restrain her.

  Maria jumped on the opportunity. Before he knew what was happening, she quickly grabbed a large piece of glass still sitting on her counter-top and plunged it into her attacker’s right eye.

  Will you join in our crusade. Who will be strong and stand with me. Somewhere beyond the barricade is there a land you want to see ...

  Maria ran for the front door as fast as she could. She opened it but was stopped by the chain lock Michael insisted she use for extra security.

  When the beating of your heart matches the beating of the drum, there is a life about to start when tomorrow comes…

  She fumbled with the chain and managed to unlock it.

  Before she could open the door, Mr. Scary grabbed her by the arm and threw her to the ground.

  The piece of glass was sticking out of his eye grotesquely, and blood dripped down his face and into the hole on the side of his mouth.

  “I guess the hard way it is,” he sneered as his mangled hand came crashing into her face.

  Love…love is never gone, as we travel on, love’s what we’ll remember…

  Maria loved that song from A Chorus Line. It played on her phone and in her head as her final thoughts before the curtain came down were of Michael.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Joe had never seen anyone crush a cell phone with their bare hand, but that’s exactly what Michael did when he had finished talking to Belial.

  “He has her,” Michael said, mostly to himself as his knees gave out and he sank to the floor.

  “What are you talking about, Michael?” Azriel asked, grabbing his brother by the arms. “He has who?”

  “Maria—my Maria.”

  “Who’s Maria?” Joe asked, standing next to his wife and grasping her hand a little tighter.

  “Maria is the woman I love,” he admitted for the first time in his existence. “She’s all I care about.”

  “Michael, what are you saying?” Azriel asked, visibly wounded.

  Michael buried his head in his hands. “You heard me. I love her and she loves me. We have been together for almost two human years. She encompasses everything that is good in your world. She is kind, generous, and only wishes to do good for her fellow man. I love her as much as our Father loves them all.”

  “More,” Joe said, looking into his wife’s eyes. “We cannot choose who we love or stop loving them because we’re told it would be for the best.” He gently squeezed Nan’s hand. “We only know we would die to make them happy, kill to keep them safe, and sometimes lie so they’ll never, ever leave us.”

  “Yes,” Michael said, looking up at Azriel for a glimmer of understanding. “That is exactly how I feel.”

  “But the rules,” Azriel said. “The council—they will not understand. They will cast you out, or worse.”

  “They can try,” Michael said as he got back on his feet, “but right now Belial has Maria and I have no doubt he will kill her to make me suffer. Just as he did so many times before.”

  “Then let’s go make him suffer,” Joe said, with a determination he hadn’t felt in a long time. “I owe that cocksucker big-time for all the pain he has caused my family—and yours.”

  Michael gave a hint of a smile. “While I appreciate your willingness to help us and understand your need for vengeance all too well, I cannot ask you to help us. I must insist that you go home where you and your wife will be safe and out of harm’s way.”

  “Maybe he’s right, Joe,” Nan interrupted before Joe could protest. Her face was soft and full of concern. “This world has just gotten infinitely larger for us in the span of only a few hours. I’m pretty sure we weren’t meant to and aren’t equipped to fight this fight.”

  Nan continued, holding her husband’s head in her hands and staring into his eyes. “I know you want to help and I know why, but I think we should leave this battle to Michael and Azriel. I can’t lose you again. Not again.”

  Joe looked at his wife, and at that moment, he knew he had his whole life back. He nodded in agreement and turned to address Michael. “Do you need anything— anything at all? I have some guns, untraceable, back in the house. Are you prepared?” he asked. “Where is this going down?”

  Michael smiled at him. “You humans never cease to surprise me. As easy as it is for you to hate, your propensity for love is so much stronger. Thank you for reminding me of this. Azriel and I are to meet Belial in a few hours in Coney Island. Some place called the HellHole. Do you know of it?” he asked Joe.

  “Do I know of it?” Joe replied, amused at the question, “I practically lived there as a kid. I’ll give you the address and draw a diagram showing all the exits and entrances. At the very least, you won’t go in their blind.”

  “Thank you, again,” Michael said and meant it. “I am sorry for the harsh things I said to you earlier. They were not true.”

  “Sure they were,” Joe said and smiled. “They were all true. But, despite that, you gave me a second chance.” Joe looked at Nan. “As long as I live,” he went on, “I’ll never be able to repay you for that.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Michael said, looking squarely at Azriel. “Your story is far from over.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Over two thousand ye
ars ago and half a world away from Valhalla, a man was killed who was so much more than a man. He was the living embodiment of God’s love on earth—his only son.

  On the day he died, the angels were busy. Each one was given a job to do to make sure nothing interfered with what had to happen.

  Michael and Belial had been given the sad task of making sure God’s son’s crucifixion, and the events leading up to it, were carried out without any problems.

  For Michael, it has been an excruciating experience. His love of God was so overwhelming, it was as if he could feel each nail as it pierced the Lord’s flesh.

  Belial did not feel the same way. He was annoyed to be around so many humans though he had to admit their pain gave him great pleasure.

  He would never understand God’s fascination with these creatures. In Belial’s mind, his Father had already created perfection when he made the angels. He was certain, these humans were just an annoying way for the Lord to pass eternity. There was no way he could possibly care about them.

  As for his son, Belial found the very thought of a mix between heavenly grace and human life to be an affront to every angel in existence. Just the idea that this human was considered the son of God made Belial furious and filled with anger. As far as he was concerned, the only true children God had were the angels. He found this whole assignment to be meaningless and beneath him.

  On this particular day, he was ordered to keep watch over a human named Judas.

  For Belial, Judas was a miserable little cretin who had been fated to give up God’s impostor son to the Romans.

  His job was to keep others from hurting him or keep him from hurting himself. But what fun was there in that?

  Instead, after Jesus’s death, when Belial could have prevented Judas from tying a rope around his neck and hanging himself, he chose to watch him die. As a souvenir, Belial took the silver coins Judas had been paid for his information about Christ and a branch of the tree he had died upon.

  When Michael found out about his refusal to follow orders, he’d had a brutal fight with Belial. It had gone on for hours and when, at last, Michael was about to destroy him, God put an end to their battle. He was to exact his own vengeance on his rogue angel.