by P. J. Day
Fisker walked up to Paolo, yanked his arms behind his back, and made him squirm as he cuffed him. The group watched the officers enter their squad cars. They promptly turned on their sirens and cherry lights, and zoomed away, leaving the crash scene behind. Fisker waited for the cars to turn the corner before whispering into Paolo’s ears. “Who sent you here? Was it Jrue? Where’s Logan Drake?”
“I have no idea who or what you’re talking about. We were in this underground lair underneath Shia Labeouf’s house. I discovered a box where this woman was stored inside. Shia placed a sphere inside the box I blinked and next I knew, we were chased by you guys. Take me in; arrest me for trespassing or whatever. Just help the girls, please. No one sent me. It was just childish curiosity, all right?”
“This was all my idea,” Cindy pleaded. “Who are you, anyway? What’s your role in all this and how do you know Logan Drake?”
“So, you do know Logan Drake?” Fisker asked Cindy, as he slithered around her in a circle.
“He’s a famous painter. Who doesn’t know him?”
“But your inflection...uh…the way you said his name seemed to echo with familiarity,” Fisker insisted, as he took hold of Paolo’s cuffed wrists.
“I like his work. Big fan,” Cindy said, with slight sarcasm.
“Tell me where Logan is,” Fisker said, while snapping his fingers and nodding toward the empty street where the squad cars were parked moments ago. Bursts of static flickered like the electric sparks of a downed transformer. Two Seraphs emerged from the void. Paolo panicked at the sudden demonic apparitions and tried to escape Fisker’s grip. “Now, now. They’re not here for you. Relax.” Cindy hyperventilated at the sight of both creatures, reliving the moment where she thought she had lost her foot to one of the creature’s claws.
“What the hell are those things?” Paolo asked.
“Let’s just say they’re assistants.”
Cindy stood still and closed her eyes.
The Seraphs approached the Accord, one on each side, both toward the backseat.
“You have family?” Fisker asked Paolo and Cindy.
“What?”
“You know. A wife, mother, father, kids?”
“Let me go, please,” Paolo said. “Please, I’m sorry. I promise I’ll stay out of the way.”
“Call them when I let you go, all right. Tell them how much you love them.”
Although both Seraphs appeared to be invincible and stronger than anything ever created on Earth, they seemed to be somewhat apprehensive as they approached Thalia. One of them tore off the top of the car, sat on the trunk and reached inside the back seat. Its claw tapped at Thalia’s side, then recoiled, anticipating a reaction. The Seraph refused to pick her up.
“Just grab her,” Fisker commanded with hands on his hips.
Both Seraphs looked at Fisker and shook their heads.
Fisker sighed and turned toward Paolo and Cindy and placed each of his hands in the middle of their backs. “Both of you, go sit on the curb,” he said, pushing Paolo first then Cindy to the ground. “Gigantic claws and they hiss like rattlers, but they’re too afraid to approach a washed-up deity. I guess I must do things myself.”
Paolo sat on the curb and breathed heavily, his fearful tears dropping onto the slick, gray gutter strip of cement. Cindy kept her eyes shut and tilted her head toward the sky and muttered a combination of every prayer she’d learned into the air. From Hindu mantras, to Buddhist chants, to the good old-fashioned Hail Mary, she exhausted her entire devotional catalog. But there was one particular prayer, chant, song that seemed to catch the attention of the deity. A melodic hum. A fast-paced Gregorian chant. More modern-sounding than all Gregorian chants. As soon as Cindy expelled it from her vocal chords, light taps crooned inside her ears. “Do you hear that?” Cindy asked Paolo, who momentarily stopped his whimpering.
“What? That tapping sound?”
“Yeah, what the hell,” Cindy replied. She tilted her head to the side and bobbed it as if she were draining her ear after a long swim.
The tapping turned to synthesized hums. Then the hums morphed into slow, female droning. “Sing, you fools. Sing the song dearest to your heart. Sing for love. The melody that plays in your head when you are at your loneliest. When courage absconds and vulnerability sets in.”
“Did you hear that?” asked Paolo.
Cindy smiled. “She heard my prayers. Do it...sing...”
Paolo closed his eyes and let out a single hum, an off-key and wretched sound.
Fisker who was standing behind the Accord, strategizing Thalia’s extraction, turned toward Paolo. “What was that?”
He hummed again, this time, stringing along a couple of intermittent notes, again, not pleasurable to the ears.
“Can you stop that?” scolded Fisker.
Then, like the screech of an owl breaking through the silence of a moonlit prairie night, Paolo belted out his first words.
“I’m wide awake...”
Cindy instantly recognized the song and joined in a duet with Paolo.
Like a time-filler, novelty act on some singing reality show, Paolo channeled his inner Katy Perry and crooned the unmistakable lyrics. Fisker, who was already on edge, yelled at Paolo, “Can you please shut up?”
Paolo and Cindy continued as they pranced around in circles, close together, like some powwow around an imaginary campfire, while their hands were still cuffed behind their backs. This was a familiar routine for Paolo, well, not the cuffed part, but the performance was sincere and from the heart and one that he performed countless times in front of his sympathetic and judgeless cat, Artie.
The Seraph nearest the back seat climbed off the trunk and backpedaled. Its partner joined its retreat. Both demons were uncharacteristically skittish. The grayness that covered Thalia receded as her body and clothing percolated with rich color. Paolo eyed the Seraphs’ reactions. Sensing vulnerabilities in the creatures, he sang louder. His and Cindy’s dance became more animated. His knees kicked into the air, and his body flailed about like one of those air-powered noodle men you’d see displayed in front of car dealerships.
Fisker yelled at Paolo and Cindy, “Enough.”
Paolo and Cindy ignored Fisker and ran out into the middle of the street and continued their dissociative trance dance. Fisker looked on with worry as he noticed a bright light emanating from the topless Accord. He stiffened. The backside of his outfit, just below his shoulders, began tearing away. Like a da Vinci sketch of a winged mechanism coming to life, Fisker’s wings sprouted effortlessly. He gritted his teeth and flapped his wings in Paolo and Cindy’s direction. In one powerful swoop, the short but powerful gust generated by the wings knocked both the dancing fools off their feet, hurling them through the air where they slammed against the scaffolding that covered the sidewalk. Fisker turned around and drew his attention toward Thalia who emerged out of the back of the car. Her features seemed renewed. Large, brown eyes, a sure fire sign of estrogenic divinity, were the highpoints of a gleaming and angelic visage. The skin on her body was like plasticine. Smooth, clean, without blemish. She glared at Fisker with judgmental eyes. Angry eyes. Fisker squared his body. “You can’t stop what has begun,” he said. “It’s too late.”
Across the street, Paolo gingerly stood up and was hunched over, with clear back pain. Cindy followed but appeared to be fine. “Are you okay?” she asked Paolo.
“My back...it’s messed up,” he said, wincing in pain. He used his shoulder to adjust his glasses. He then looked up and his mouth dropped opened wide in awe at Thalia’s radiant beauty as she climbed out of the car. “What the...”
Cindy whipped her head toward the commotion. “She...she answered our prayers.”
Thalia stepped onto the blacktop. Her dress shined as it were threaded with the bioluminescent cells of a comb jelly. Although Fisker’s stance was both rigid and warrior-like, insecurity riddled his face. Gone was the invincibility in his eyes, but he tried feigning courage anyway, usin
g his role in the Prophecy as leverage. “I, as Uriel, messenger of Adonai, authority of Earth matters, command you back to the Kronotos’ lair.”
“You have no authority over me,” Thalia said.
“Jrue agreed to hand you over to save his own neck,” said Fisker. “To save Pit. You lost the war. You were sacrificed. If you wish to protect Pit, you must abide by the Accord.”
Upon hearing Fisker’s words, Cindy approached him and spoke up: “What Accord is he talking about? The one we were just in?”
Fisker took a quick glance over his shoulder and sneered, “Stay out of this, human.”
“No, inform her, Uriel,” commanded Thalia. “They are both powerless, they have no power to stop you or me. But I think they have earned the right to know their fate.”
“Why? They won’t understand.”
“Tell us what?” Paolo asked.
Fisker snapped at Paolo. “This is all pointless. The Prophecy has begun. There is no way you can stop Adonai’s son from returning.” Fisker looked up and stared into the dark, moonless sky and pointed. In the distance, high above the tall buildings that lined the boulevard, a ball of light streaked. Its trajectory was not that of a plane or helicopter. A sparked trail discharged at its back, like the tail of a pyrotechnic stallion. “There’s nothing you can do to stop this,” he said, looking down at Thalia. “The trumpet has blown. Chaos will rain down on humanity until every soul is prepped for absorption.”
Thalia immediately communicated with Paolo and Cindy telepathically. Run to me.
Without hesitation, Paolo and Cindy ran past both Seraphs and toward Paolo’s Honda. Thalia sparked a glowing, transparent dome, covering herself, Paolo and Cindy. The Seraphs turned their heads toward Fisker and Thalia, and moved quickly in all directions like the rapid and fluid movements of frightened finches. The ball of fire exploded a mile above everyone’s heads, the sonic boom leveling everyone down to the ground. Instead of one large flaming projectile crashing down to Earth, there were several small, fiery missiles which split apart from each other in midair. Paolo looked up through the translucent dome, the fireball hit the air directly above him and ricocheted off the invisible shield Thalia had conjured, and broke up into even smaller pieces which struck the Seraphs; one in the face, the other in its chest. Upon impact, the shield dissipated and Thalia collapsed to the ground, her color gone once again, but still breathing. However, the Seraphs appeared to have expired, their lanky bodies and cloaks shredded by the galactic missiles made of nickel and iron ore.
With a faint voice, Thalia alerted Paolo and Cindy. “There are more coming. Huddle next to me.”
As soon as Cindy and Paolo ducked against Thalia’s side, a few meters away another meteorite struck a row of cars that had been parked overnight. Pieces of steel, concrete, and space rock blew in every direction like shrapnel. Fisker levitated into the air, pulled back his wings like a fighter jet prepping for supersonic flight, and darted into the dark sky. Flickered static— like the type which followed the Seraphs—enveloped Thalia and the couple.
Fisker hovered high above the ground where he could better judge the trajectory of the meteorites and glanced down at the group. They became translucent at first, and then vanished from the blacktop of the parking lot grounds. There was no need to worry about Thalia, he thought. Armageddon had begun. The Prophecy was in full swing. It was only a matter of hours before Caeli was renewed once again.
Chapter Thirty-four:
Thicker than Blood
Adam chucked his last remaining nineteenth century, Francesca chair that was given to him as a gift by his girlfriend, into the fireplace.
It was a glorious piece of furniture made of beautifully carved solid oak, a decorative patterned seat cushion with gold-threaded welting that could no longer be found. The decorative chairs all were propped up by a set of whimsical tapir hooves. But since he was soon crossing the dimensional plane, he no longer had any use for them.
He flicked the matchstick into the large stone hearth and stood still, waiting for the fire to take hold. Logan was in the kitchen crouched next to Keelen, who sat on the floor against the pantry door; wailing, trembling, and shaking. Losing Matt affected her, as he was no longer there to comfort her, or hold her against his rigid chest. She was also overcome with sudden mistrust and fear as she didn’t know who or what Logan was. She’d never seen a flying man before, let alone carried up to the stars by one.
On his knees, Logan bent over and gently caressed her scalp. “Look at me...Keelen, let me see your eyes.”
She didn’t respond. Her face was hidden beneath her arms which she occasionally used to wipe her nose.
Sirens wailed in the distance. The city received a taste of Armageddon when the Grand Olympic Auditorium disappeared out of thin air, the opening act to the main event. Logan knew there was not much time left before the earth trembled relentlessly, before the seas rose and overflowed onto dry land, and the skies opened like the mouth of a dragon. “The end is near,” Logan said, with worry in his voice. “I need you to stay with me.”
Adam lumbered into the kitchen, his face shiny with perspiration from the fire he had just ignited in the fireplace. “Theolodus, come on, let’s go.”
Logan turned away from Keelen and said to Adam, with coldness in his voice, “I’m not leaving yet.”
“It’s over. All of this. My luxuries, your luxuries. Every single material thing you cherished will soon be gone. There’s nothing we can do to stop this. Once the sky reveals itself, all of Caeli will be descending upon Earth in a matter of hours and if they find us here Pit will be as good as done.”
“I need a little more time,” Logan said, as he stood up.
“Look at you. You look like you’re at death’s door. Pale, your eyes sunken—you gonna suck on that pretty girl’s neck to stay alive on this lesser plane?” Adam joked. “You don’t have time.”
“What the fuck are you?” Keelen asked, lifting her head from her arms, a combination of fear and defiance in her bloodshot eyes. “I want to go home.”
Logan immediately crouched at her side and looked at her submissively. “Remember how I said I would need you? Well, the time has come. I’ll explain everything to you as soon as we are alone.”
“Dammit, Theolodus, you cannot seriously think that I’m going to let you screw the Prophecy up and let you roam around again, do you?”
“I promise to go back with you, but I need to do something first.”
“Did we not just lose this girl’s boyfriend to something obviously more powerful than us? That’s just the opening act. We don’t have that much time.”
Logan stood up and confronted Adam. With a puffed-out chest he said, “I request…actually, I demand that you grant me more time.”
When Logan had overstayed his presence on Earth, it was purely for selfish reasons. His human form was extraordinarily handsome, his talents were otherworldly, and of course, the special powers that came with being a demigod, made living on Earth seem as if he existed inside a sandbox-style video game. But Logan quickly learned what pain was. The lower rung of humanity had taught him suffering. Those who were randomly chosen to contract some horrible disease taught him what coping meant, those who were a paycheck away from bankruptcy or starvation taught him sacrifice, and those who had lost a loved one reminded him of his own pain: the loss of his mother. That is when things clicked inside his divine brain. Pain is pain, he thought. The suffering a being encounters, no matter how infinitesimal they might be, is suffering nonetheless, and should be mitigated at all costs.
“How can you live with yourself knowing that over seven billion people are about to be scorched, crushed, or drowned? The majority of them innocent? Children even,” Logan declared. “My mother’s sacrifice will not be in vain.”
Adam responded. “You don’t think I miss our mother too? But her loss was necessary. Our entire existence hung in the balance.”
“Are you going to give me more time, or are you going to
make this more difficult for yourself than it should be?”
“It’s already more difficult than it should be.”
“I’ll be here tomorrow morning. Have the fire ready. Tell your father I’ve agreed to come back. But make sure that Pit is ready for an offensive.”
“It already is because of your desertion—I have no idea how I’m going to explain this to Jrue,” Adam relented and shook his head. “I have negotiated with the enemy for your safe return, and I’ve lived with this heinous physical form for much too long, a consequence of my failure to locate you sooner. I’m sick of all of it, Theolodus. I want to return with you. I want to relive the conversations we used to have on the wheatfield-lined roads that lead to Adrascus, where the divine beauties sprout every spring like grapevines after an ice-wreathed winter. Do not betray me.”
Logan bent down and picked up Keelen by her hand. “Your sacrifice will not be in vain, Lelantos,” Logan stated, with confidence. “That I can assure you.”
Keelen continued to sob, turning her back on Logan as he continued to converse with his brother.
“I guess there’s nothing more I can do than to wait here?” said Adam. “What exactly is it that you’re going to do?”
“Make sure to have the TV on.”
“Do you seriously think you’re going to be able to stop this?”
“I don’t know,” Logan said.
“Then why don’t you want to go back with me right now?”
Logan nodded toward Keelen. “I made a promise to her. I need to keep it.”
Adam sighed. “You really have it hard up for humanity, don’t you?”
“Here, have this,” Logan said, as he opened Adam’s palm and placed a folded piece of paper on it. “Is the magazine published yet?”
“Well, it gets delivered tomorrow. Printing should be winding down this morning—if the process hasn’t been interrupted by all these events.”
“Make sure what I just gave you gets distributed with a third of the magazines. What’s the featured article about?”
