All That Is Fallen

by Brendan Carroll

  “Excuse us, Brother.” D’Brouchart told him blandly. “Brother Lucifer wanted to see your room.”

  Lucio put his injured finger in his mouth instinctively. He had been trying to get a rather large splinter out of his finger for several days. Galen stood up quickly. The Golden Eagle’s son had been sitting at the computer desk in the corner, playing a video game while Catharine worked on the splinter.

  “What is this?” Lucifer rushed forward and pulled Lucio’s hand from his mouth. He seemed quite alarmed at the sight of the blood.

  “None of your business.” Lucio told him and pulled his hand away. Catharine backed away from the angel with one hand pressed over her mouth. She did not want to be this close to him. His unexpected intrusion had almost caused her to faint.

  “Brother.” Mark Andrew’s face was red with embarrassment. “I’m sorry for the… it is inexcusable. I… we thought you would be downstairs with the others.”

  “Why do you want to see my room?” Lucio asked the angelic chieftain, but did not make a move to get off the bed.

  “You have the marks of the ancient ones of Khem.” Lucifer narrowed his eyes at Lucio’s tattoos and then he leaned to one side, looking at Lucio’s bare back. “Why is your hand bleeding? Has this one harmed you? Does she stay in this room as well?”

  “She is my wife, thank you very much.” Lucio told him indignantly. “And yes, she stays here with me. I have a splinter. It is nothing.”

  “Allow me.” Lucifer took the Knight’s hand again in spite of his protest.

  “Brother, let him look at it.” D’Brouchart told him and his tone was one of warning. “There is no need to be rude.”

  Lucifer leaned over the injured finger and then placed his other hand over it.

  “There. That should be better.” Lucifer smiled at him. “You should learn to be more hospitable to your guests, brother. You never know when you may need assistance.”

  Lucio looked at his finger. The splinter was gone.

  “I have healed many such injuries to your little one.” Lucifer jerked his head toward Galen. “You would do well to take better care of your flesh. It seems most fragile.”

  “Thank you.” Lucio said grudgingly. “I’ll do that.”

  “Good! I have seen enough. I wanted to see his back.” Lucifer turned toward the door and d’Brouchart followed him.

  “Why?” Lucio slid from the bed and stood up. “Why did you want to see my back?”

  “Your title.” Lucifer looked down at the Italian. He didn’t seem to be taller than Lucio, but he seemed to have the unnerving ability to look down at him anyway. “Golden Eagle. I thought perhaps men had developed wings.”

  Lucio was not sure if this was the truth or an attempt at humor. The angel started for the door again, apparently satisfied with the tour.

  “What the devil… I mean, what is he doing?” Lucio whispered and caught Mark’s arm

  “He is touring the grounds.” Mark shrugged. “Just bear with us. He’ll be gone shortly.”

  “What about Galen?” Lucio whispered gruffly. “I won’t just stand here and have him take my son again!”

  “It will be all right, Brother.” Mark assured him. “You’ll see. Trust me.”

  “Famous last words. And coming from you. Santa Maria!” Lucio turned away from him and Catharine hurried to close the door between them.

  “Uriel!” Lucifer called to him from the stairs leading to the third floor. “Are there more sleeping compartments up there?”

  “Yes.” Mark nodded and hurried after them, hoping that Luke Andrew was not up there playing his music and dancing, but surely not. “Two more bedrooms and the attic.”

  Lucifer stepped lightly up the stairs and stopped in front of Luke’s door. Mark held his breath as the angel leaned his head against the door, listening intently.

  “The arrogant one lives here.” The angel smiled grandly. He promptly opened the door and stepped inside. Luke’s room remained almost stoically pristine. He had managed to have a local artist produce replicas of the two portraits that Mark had in his room. Luke was not at home. Mark sighed in relief. Lucifer zeroed in on the portraits and stopped to scrutinize them, turning his head back and forth.

  “His mother.” Lucifer smiled. “And the little one… the Golden Eagle’s son, he has hair like his mother.”

  “That is not Galen’s mother.” Mark Andrew told him. “That is Meredith, my wife.”

  “Ahh. Your wife. Of course.” Lucifer narrowed his clear blue eyes. “But there is something very wrong here.” He turned rapidly on Mark Andrew. “If this is your wife, then who is the little one’s mother? And why are you keeping Sophia in your room? Have things come to such a sorry pass that men must share women with one another and the brotherhood as well? Are there not enough to go round?”

  Mark Andrew’s heart dropped into his boots.

  “Du Morte?” D’Brouchart turned on him at once.

  “I am not keeping Sophia in my room, for pity’s sake!” Mark Andrew’s eyes widened.

  “She was there earlier.” Lucifer seemed completely unaware of the exchange between the two Templars. “And who is this other woman?”

  “She was my… She is the King of Britain’s mother.” Mark Andrew told him. “The Queen Mother.”

  “Ahh. But the King of England is your brother or is he your son?” Lucifer turned a knowing smile on Mark Andrew. “Then this is the woman who bore you in this form? She would be your son’s grandmother, is that correct?”

  “Yes.” Mark Andrew made a wry face. He absolutely hated these discussions. They were the source of much embarrassment. He had lived too long. D’Brouchart was still fuming silently about Sophia.

  “I don’t understand.” Lucifer shook his head. “Why would you trade your body of light for such a frail shell? Surely you have suffered much that was unnecessary. And you, Nathanael, who was your mother?”

  Edgard’s anger turned to shock. No one had ever asked him this question.

  “Her name was… They called her Bath-Sheba, but that was not her name. Her name was Shua.” Edgard told him and then cast another dark glance at Mark Andrew. The Knight of Death looked up at the portrait of his mother and pretended not to hear the answer. The first time he had ever heard the Master admit his birth.

  “My, my.” Lucifer shook his head quickly as if to clear his brain. “Bath-Sheba. Bath-Sheba. This was after my time. But it is no matter. I still do not understand it. It is not something I would do. But each to his own, I suppose. I was not sent here as a judge, just a warrior. Judgment sits on a higher throne than mine. What is an attic? I saw a temple near here? Is it yours, Uriel?”

  Edgard closed his eyes briefly and Mark smiled to himself.

  “This way.” Mark led the way out. When they exited Luke’s bedroom, Sophia was standing on the third floor landing. Lucifer headed straight for her.

  “Ahhh, Sophia.” He took her hand and she glanced at Mark nervously. “There is something I must tell you before we depart. You should not wear these dark clothes.” He glanced down at her dark blue dress. “You should always wear white. It is your color as opposed to black and…” He leaned forward slightly and smelled of her hair. “And do not forget to anoint your head with the oil of cinnamon and myrrh.”

  Sophia’s eyes grew wide as she saw the look on Mark Andrew’s face. Lucifer dropped her hand and turned toward the stairs.

  “This way!” Mark Andrew said again and jerked his head at Sophia, indicating that she should go downstairs. Sophia frowned, but followed the silent instruction.

  Chapter Twelve of Twenty-Two

  Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us, for as many years as we have seen trouble.

  “This is an odd place. What is it that you do here?” Raziel looked about the brightly lit laboratory where Lavon and Christopher Stewart worked their ‘magick’.

  “I make things we can no longer buy.” Lavon sat down at the counter and adjusted a small flame under a b
ubbling flask of amber liquid. “Ordinary things for the most part. Batteries, soap, toothpaste.” The French Knight laughed slightly. “Nothing earth-shattering, but I try to make life a bit easier for my Brothers.”

  “What is that you are brewing?” The warrior clad in deceptively gentle lavender raiment leaned forward to scrutinize the flask.

  “Mouthwash.” Lavon shrugged. “It is a vanity, I suppose. I am also working on a new perfumed bath oil. The ladies are tired of roses and gardenias.”

  “Ahhh. Ointments.” Raziel’s radiant face grew even brighter. “I prefer the earthier smells of leather and myrrh. Have you tried frankincense? It is an ancient remedy for sadness. Tried and true.”

  “I don’t have any here. Things are hard to come by. I have used pine sap to scent some nice cleanser for clothes and such. But it does not make a good base for use in the bath. We would smell like clean water closets. The ladies prefer the flowers. Verbena and jasmine. Things like that. I have made some very nice fragrances with ginger and cinnamon, but these are better suited for the men, and even those things are becoming scarce now. The ladies like to smell them, but they don’t want to wear them.” Lavon explained.

  “So you have different smells for women and men? And women prefer that men should smell one way while men prefer that women should smell another?”

  “I suppose so. Quite simply put.” Lavon nodded and watched the creature drift about the lab, inspecting everything closely. Raziel reminded him vaguely of Mark Andrew’s son, Lemarik. He was extremely curious. “Women and men have varying tastes. It is part of what makes us different.”

  “I see.” The angel picked up a crystal dome set on a black onyx base and peered into the foggy depths. “But what is this? I can smell both men and women here.”

  Lavon slid from the stool and approached him cautiously. He had learned very quickly to keep his distance from these strange warriors. They did not like to be touched.

  “I’m not sure what it is.” Lavon stood close by, but not too close. “Sir Ramsay’s son brought it from New Babylon and gave it to me. He does know what it is or what it is used for, but he thought it was something special. He bade me keep it for him until he has time to experiment with it.”

  “And what have you learned of it?” Raziel seemed fascinated with the swirling fog within the crystal dome. “It moves.”

  The warrior’s movements reminded Lavon of a parrot.

  “I haven’t been able to do anything with it.” Lavon admitted. He had driven himself to distraction studying the thing. He could find no way to separate the dome from the base short of shattering it with a hammer and he did not want to destroy it. There was something inside and the foggy mist seemed to move though it was very hard to tell. Mark and Luke Andrew had warned him against breaking it open until he knew what it contained. They were worried that it might contain some noxious poison or even some creature of darkness trapped within. Considering the source, it could have been anything.

  Raziel set the dome on the counter and leaned his face very close to it.

  “There are creatures inside.” He announced shortly. “They are held there by great magick.”

  “I have thought the same thing.” Lavon leaned down to peer at the foggy contents as well from the opposite side of the counter. “But I am reluctant to try to release the contents. We may get more than we bargained for.” He glanced at the angel, a case in point.

  “Hmmm.” The angel stood up, drew his sword and flexed his wings under his robe. “These are not malevolent beasts. They are held against their will.”

  “No!” Lavon tried to catch his arm and was knocked back by an invisible force. He caught himself on the edge of the worktable and shook his head. “Wait! Don’t do that!”

  Raziel raised the sword toward heaven and looked up.

  “There is nothing to fear here.” He assured the French Knight.

  “O Lord, hear my prayer, and let my cry come unto Thee.” Raziel began to repeat part of the prayers associated with Lavon’s mystery, the Wisdom of Solomon. Lavon tried to move forward, but felt paralyzed by the power emanating from the angel. “O Lord God Almighty, who has reigned from before the beginning of the Aeons and who by thine infinite wisdom hast created the heavens, the earth and the sea and all that is in them. All that is visible and all that is invisible by a single word; I praise Thee, I bless Thee, I adore thee, I glorify Thee and I pray Thee now at the present time to be merciful unto us, Thy servants, Raziel and Lavon. Give me strength, O Lord that I may vanquish Thine enemies with a single blow!” The angel raised the sword a bit higher and then brought it down atop the crystal dome.

  Lavon shouted ‘no’ again and then threw his arm over his face as a tremendous flash of light almost blinded him when the sword met the glass. The Knight expected an explosion of glass or some other catastrophe, but, instead, he heard only a hiss and felt a rush of cool air on his face. He lowered his arm and opened his eyes which he had closed instinctively. The globe lay in two perfect halves on the counter on either side of the onyx stone base. The angel was bending over something on the floor beyond. The milky white fog had expanded tremendously, filling the lab from end to end, but it was dissipating rapidly.

  Lavon’s heart beat wildly as he squinted into the thinning mist and then leapt for joy at the sight of what had come from the strange vessel.

  “Great Father in Heaven!” Lavon shouted and rushed forward to help the angel.

  Simon’s son, Levi, and his wife lay on the floor of the lab, holding each other tightly. The Rabbi blinked up at Lavon in shock and wonder. Menaka disentangled herself from him and climbed to her feet with the help of Raziel.

  “Levi!” Lavon tugged the sizable man to his feet. “Levi! It’s me, Lavon!”

  “You know these creatures?” Raziel turned a quizzical look on the Knight.

  “Yes! Yes! Great day in the morning!” Lavon almost jumped up and down in joy as he tried to hug them both at once. “Levi! Menaka! If I had only known! This is wonderful! Glorious!” Lavon spun on the angel and almost took him in his arms.

  Raziel stepped back and shook his head in warning.

  “What is going on?” Levi looked about the lab. “Where are we?”

  Menaka was speechless as she stared at the angelic creature.

  “We’re in Scotland! You’re home! Your father! He’s here!” Lavon fluttered around them.

  “Menaka!” Levi turned and hugged his wife tightly. “I told you they would come for us!”

  “Who are you?” Menaka pushed Levi away and addressed the angel. “I know you!”

  “My name is Raziel, but you are mistaken daughter of Metatron. You do not know me, but I know your father.” He lowered his head slightly and looked at her from his left eye. “You are not like the others. You are like the great Sophia!”

  “Raziel.” Menaka repeated the angel’s name and took Levi’s arm. “We have been gone a long time, James.” She told her husband.

  “Come! Come!” Lavon hurried toward the door. “We must tell the others! Oh, this is a great day indeed! Let us rejoice! Your grandfather is here, Levi! Come on! Your Grace! By your leave!” Lavon rushed through the door and was gone. They heard his boots pounding down the hall.

  “How did you come to be here? Did Lavon summon you?” Menaka asked Raziel as he continued to size her up.

  “I am here at my Master’s bidding.” Raziel narrowed his eyes. “My brothers and I serve the Lord. My brother is dining with this one’s grandfather.”

  “Your brother?” Levi frowned. “Raziel? The Raziel?” Levi took a step backwards as the name sank into his brain. He was quite well versed in angelic lore and had studied the Kabala intensely, though he practiced none of the magick found there.

  “I know of no other.” The angel smiled slightly. “Perhaps you should follow your brother, little one. Your grandfather will indeed be pleased to see you, I believe.”

  “Menaka!” Levi took his wife’s hand and drew her toward the door. S
he could not tear her eyes away from the angel and walked backwards while Levi pulled her along.

  “We will be seeing your father soon.” Raziel called to her. “Do you have a message for him?”

  “Tell him…” Menaka stammered. “Tell him I miss him!” She managed before Levi dragged her bodily into the hall.

  ((((((((((((()))))))))))))

  Luke’s determination to do something was dashed when he caught sight of the lavender-clad Raziel, sitting in the midst of Simon’s amaranths, calmly munching on some of the petals pulled from the deep blue flowers. Il Dolce Mio had been right. He had drunk far too much of the honey mead in his depressed state. He swayed slightly on his feet and the sudden stop at the sight of the angel made his head swim. Raziel got swiftly to his feet and climbed out of the flowerbed. Luke was amazed to see the flowers where the creature had been sitting were standing upright, unharmed and though he walked casually through the thick growth, no sign of his passing remained behind.

  “Luke Ramsay! Where are you going in such haste? There is no need to rush.” Raziel joined the apprentice on the walkway.

  Luke recognized him as one of the angels he had spoken to during the short time directly after dinner when he had asked about Michael and Galen and their possible release. Speaking with the creature had made him feel weird as if someone were watching or trying to interfere in his thoughts. He did not trust these arrogant warriors or their leader and wondered if they were truly friends or some new threat.

  “Haniel?” He squinted at the warriors shining face. It seemed that the angel’s face produced more light than the lights in the flowerbeds could have provided.

  “Raziel. You have been drinking strong drink, Luke Ramsay.” The angel leaned toward him and sniffed him tentatively. “And your thoughts are pouring from your mind. Very dangerous. Your ambition is admirable, but your circumstances would recommend more preparation. You will not be well received by your father at this particular time.”