The Elder Prophets (To Absolve the Fallen Book 2)

by Aaron Babbitt

  Nathan laughed. “A demon. Right. You all watch entirely too much television. I try to limit myself to eight hours a day. I turn it off and back on again every five minutes.” He tapped his temple sagely. “That way, they don’t have enough time to read my thoughts.”

  “Why don’t you believe in demons?” Salmar questioned.

  “Doesn’t the existence of demons imply the existence of God?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, I don’t believe in God, either.”

  “But you’ve lived so long,” Salmar persisted. “How do you explain that?”

  Nathan smiled, leaned forward, and patted Salmar on the arm. “I eat right. I can share my diet with you, if you’d like. Though, I’m not one to judge. If you want to believe in God, that’s cool with me. But let me ask you this: do you think God knows everything?”

  “My beliefs are different than Abbie’s,” Salmar explained. “I don’t believe in just one God. I put my faith in many powers. However, I do believe there is a force in the universe that helps us along the way. I suppose, whatever that is, it knows best.”

  “And it has always known best?”

  Salmar nodded. “I believe so.”

  “Then, why did it create beings it knew would someday become the opposition? Wouldn’t He, or It, or They have known that these creatures would have to be stopped by someone? What is the purpose, then, of creating them in the first place? To cause undue pain?”

  “You’re wasting your time,” Abbie told Salmar. “He doesn’t hear reason.”

  Regardless, Salmar would not be dissuaded. “I believe that many creatures, including humans and angels, were created with the ability to choose. Autonomy is an important part of our existence. Parents know that children will make mistakes, and sometimes mistakes can be severe. I’m not sure it would be fair to take away their ability to choose or their lives because they might fail.”

  “Most parents don’t damn their children to eternal torment.”

  “No,” Salmar agreed, “but many children damn themselves to lives of pain.”

  “And what kind of parent gives birth to a child with horns and hoofed feet, anyway?”

  Abbie laughed. “Nathan, I have seen you carry on intelligent, lucid conversations. I think you change the subject to ludicrous topics because you don’t want to talk about it anymore. However, you can’t just give up on this topic. It needs to be discussed. And, at some point, you will need to accept that there is something greater. Eventually, the evidence is going to become too overwhelming for even you to deny.”

  “Do you mean to say evidence or dogma?”

  “You have seen things that cannot be rationally explained.”

  Nathan laughed. “You’re right. And everyone calls me crazy.”

  ***

  Jeremiah picked up the phone from out of the console. It was Marla. Good news, he hoped. His day was going so well, already.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s been taken care of. Just like you asked for.”

  “Marla, I must admit that few are as efficient as you are.”

  “And I thought you hired me for my legs.”

  “Goodbye, Marla.”

  “Bye, Jeremiah,” she cooed.

  After hanging up, Jeremiah reached for a piece of paper in the passenger seat. He dialed the number there, and, after three rings, someone picked up.

  “This is Sara.”

  “Good,” Jeremiah answered, “because that is exactly with whom I wish to speak.”

  “Who is this?”

  “I apologize for my tardiness in returning your call. I’ve been away from my phone.”

  “Jeremiah,” she surmised in a hushed tone.

  “No doubt you will try to trace this call, but I wouldn’t waste my time.”

  “Why is that?”

  “No one other than you will ever acknowledge that this call existed. Now, what is it that you wanted to talk to me about?”

  “The café in Baltimore, the boy nailed to his wall, the incident in the public library. Take your pick.”

  “So, you decided to call the number I gave you.”

  “Yes. There isn’t any Detective Tony Heller in Baltimore. So what can you tell me that is true?”

  Jeremiah laughed. “Too much. More importantly, though, is what can I offer?”

  “Okay. What can you offer me?”

  “Sara, do you believe in God?”

  “I was raised Methodist.”

  “That isn’t what I asked. There are forces around you that protect and threaten your existence every day. You may not see us, but we’re everywhere.”

  “Are you a force that protects or threatens?”

  “I’m surprised you even asked. After all, I did call you. If I wanted you dead, I assure you, you would be.”

  “We have video footage of you in Baltimore and eyewitnesses in Indianapolis.”

  Jeremiah grunted a laugh. “Eyewitnesses to what? A man combusting into flames, then casually walking out of a building? What are you going to do with that? I have a more important question for you, Sara. Have you ever noticed that you can do something exceptionally, almost unbelievably, well?”

  “I don’t think this is about me.”

  “Oh, but it is. What is it, Sara? What drove you to the exulted career of police detective? Can you sense the crime before it happens? Do you find yourself thinking too much like the criminal? Do you have an uncanny accuracy with guns? Are you incredibly quick? It’s the only way someone like you could have gone so long unnoticed. You must hide it well.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “C’mon, Sara. You can’t fool me. I’ve met you, and I happen to be very good at recognizing people like you. You’re called a prophet, and you have been born with a gift of some kind. I don’t know what it is or how I can help you without a little constructive feedback.”

  “You’re a murderer. I don’t want your help.”

  “I don’t think the definition of murder applies to what I do. The two I killed in Baltimore were not human. And, it may come as some surprise, but I saved many people’s lives in that café by killing them when and how I did.”

  “If they weren’t human, what were they?”

  “Fallen angels, just like I am.”

  After a short, digesting pause, she replied, “I’m reluctant to accept that.”

  “Sara, you’ve seen and heard too much to support your doubt. I fight these beings, and I’m inviting you to help me.”

  “Right. Jeremiah, what is your last name?”

  “I don’t have one.”

  “Where are you?”

  Jeremiah looked out the window at a street sign. “Right now, I’m at the corner of Flamingo and Jones, waiting for the light to change.”

  “Where is that?”

  “Can you conjure the spirits of the dead to ask them questions?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “What is it that you do, Sara? I’m aware of your record. It’s quite impressive. But I just can’t figure how you do it.”

  “We’ll find you.”

  “I certainly hope so,” the demon responded. “I would very much like to talk to you in person. You may believe that I’m a criminal, but you should question whether or not a criminal could do what I do. I have arranged for you to be transferred, if it’s to your liking. How does Kansas City sound? It’s quiet. The people are docile. It should be much more peaceful than what you’re used to.”

  “What?!” Sara responded, stunned.

  “Check with your superiors, and call me back.”

  With that, Jeremiah hung up the phone. He had given her enough to think about. His next conversation with her should prove to be very interesting.

  ***

  Metatron was coming back to his senses. For nearly a day, he had been fighting to keep himself tied to this plane. He had underestimated the boy, and it had nearly cost him everything. Only recently had he the ability to form a
semi-human state around him.

  Fury raged deep within the demon’s being. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Now, he would have to spend the resources he had planned to use against Lucifer to stop these meddling pests.

  He cursed Jeremiah silently for bringing him to this. He had sent Ephippas to Kansas City, and that would not be the only demon reassigned to that new position. Everything he had was to be devoted to destroying Kingstone. Angels may protect the boy’s house, Metatron thought, but anything around it is fair game. He would force them to move their forces to Missouri. Then, he would crush their reserves in Las Vegas.

  The immediate goal, though, was to gather strength. The rest would have to wait another day. Soon, though, he would take his revenge. He would burn everything Alex cared for to the ground—kill any family member or friend he could get his hands on. He would lure the boy out and expend every resource he had to kill the prophet. Then, he would seek out Jeremiah.

  Chapter 7

  Prophets live in two distinct worlds. The world they are born into demands status quo. The world they come to know is anything but normal. This forces prophets into a dualistic lifestyle. Inevitably, one world becomes more prevalent, while the other dims. If a prophet could merge the two, he or she could live life as the Creator surely intended. Rarely, if ever, is this allowed to happen, though. Each world will attempt to consume the prophet. And to defy one in defense of the other will almost always leave the prophet an empty shell. Almost always.

  --Abigail Martin, Through the Eyes of a Martyr

  Sara sat in her car, amazed. Someone, presumably this Jeremiah character, had created a position in the Kansas City Police Department for her. It would pay almost double what she was making now, and that kind of money was unheard of for a detective, particularly one who was brand new to the precinct. Of course, no one could give her any information about this change or about the person who had called her. The only thing anyone could tell her is that some very influential person had arranged for the transfer.

  To make matters worse, all of the evidence from the café had been moved, including the tape showing what had happened. And it seemed that no one had any information about that, either. Moreover, every case that might have involved Jeremiah had been closed. No one had even bothered to notify her until she asked about them.

  But it was not any of these things that now held her thought. She kept replaying the conversation she’d had with him. He was searching for something extraordinary—some ability, some talent. He had been so confident that there was something about her, and he was right.

  Ever since Sara was young, she had a special knack for finding people. It was almost like she could follow them, without even seeing them leave. They left a pattern in her mind that she could track. More than one criminal had been surprised to find her pointing a gun in his face less than an hour after the crime had been committed.

  And it wasn’t just criminals. Everyone left a trail. The trails were only visible to her, and she could even sense them with her eyes closed. Indeed, sometimes she would catch glimpses of what was at the end of the trail.

  She’d never told anyone about this ability out of a fear that they would think she was schizophrenic. Now, someone not only knew that there was something odd about her, but he was trying to exploit it. It had seemed very likely that he was insane when she spoke with him on the phone, but, at the moment, she didn’t know quite what to think.

  He was definitely powerful, but he claimed to be a fallen angel, a demon.

  “No,” she muttered aloud. “He’s crazy, and he’s making you crazy. There is no such thing as demons. Even if there were, why would they fight each other? And why would I ever work for one?”

  No one answered her. She knew what she had to do. She started the car up. Going to the diner was the only chance she had of catching Jeremiah, whether he was in Kansas City or not. The crime scene was five days cold, so it might be difficult to pick up his trail. But she had promised to find him, and then she would arrest this man who thought he was a demon.

  ***

  “So, you’re just going to visualize the place and appear there?” Alex’s father asked him.

  “Pretty much.”

  “What else can you do?”

  “I can read people’s emotions really well. And, I think if I focus hard enough, I can control the weather. I stole that power and the teleportation from a demon.”

  “From...a demon?” his mother prompted.

  “Yeah.” Alex nodded. “That powerful demon I was telling you about—Metatron.”

  “So you’re going to appear in Las Vegas and talk to some really old prophets,” his father said. “Are they going to come to Kingstone?”

  “I don’t know,” Alex replied. “The plan was to fight the battle in Las Vegas. We were also supposed to have more time. I can’t predict how they are going to react to this.”

  “Coming home, you mean?” Mary asked.

  “Right. I did what I thought I needed to do, but I’ve put them in a bad spot. They will want to devote something to the protection of this town, and whatever that is will have to come from the manpower that was supposed to defend the mansion and prophets in other parts of the world.”

  James cleared his throat. “You said something about angels.”

  “There are angels watching over us. I have assurances from God.”

  Mary patted Alex on the hand. “Then, what do we have to be worried about?”

  “Angels don’t act on every little thing,” Alex explained. “They normally have very specific orders. For these angels, it probably has something to do with keeping us safe from physical harm. They might not do anything about demonic corruption of Kingstone. And they might only be protecting us from demons. Lots of people can work for those demons. That’s why I’ll need the help of other prophets.”

  “People are going to realize you’re back, Alex,” commented his father. “What are we going to tell them?”

  “The truth,” Mary answered to the surprise of Alex and his father.

  “Exactly,” Alex added.

  “You two are my world,” James said, “and I want you to know that I will support whatever you decide to do. But I need to point out that people are going to have a hard time listening to you and believing what they hear.”

  “The world is going to change in a way that they never assumed possible,” Mary noted. “They will believe when they learn to trust their eyes.”

  “Okay,” agreed James. “Your mother and I may not be prophets, but we will do our damndest to help you in any way we can.”

  Alex felt his eyes begin to water. “I know, Dad. I wish you weren’t a part of this, but I’m glad you’re with me.”

  “Go to your meeting, Honey,” his mother said, smiling. “We’ll be here when you get back.”

  ***

  On the street in front of the Tanner house, Ephippas stood, watching. He knew this was a dangerous move, but he couldn’t resist his own curiosity. Though he’d only been there for a moment, he was already beginning to feel that his presence was not appreciated.

  “I was told,” a voice behind him began, “not to interfere unless one or more of the three people inside that house were in danger of physical harm. Are they, Ephippas?”

  Ephippas slowly turned to face Raphael. He was careful to not seem to be a threat. He knew he was powerful, but he was no match for an archangel.

  “I was just looking, Raphael. I am smarter than you take me for.”

  “If you, or an attack you generate, come within one hundred feet of Alex or his family, I will destroy you without a second thought. That warning applies to all demons, so be sure to inform Patheus and Metatron.”

  Ephippas smiled slyly. “I see He still rules with an iron fist.”

  Raphael looked on indifferently. “I have no intention of discussing the will of God with you. The matter is simple: Disobey me, and be banished to the Abyss. If you believe that even a host of demons can overtake this ho
use, I challenge you to try. We can end this war right now.”

  “Oh, no,” replied the demon. “I know to whom I speak, and I know that angels don’t bluff. I’m sure that, within seconds, a flight of angels would lay us all low.”

  “No matter where you might be,” Raphael added.

  “Yes,” Ephippas agreed, chuckling. “You would hunt us down, even unto the ends of the Earth, to enact your revenge. I see God is still working on that ‘all-loving’ thing.”

  Raphael waved his hand to dismiss the conversation. “You have been warned.”

  “Sometimes, I wonder if you all are even capable of it—slaughtering your misguided brethren, I mean. Could you, Raphael? Could you kill me for such an insignificant mistake, an error in judgment? We once stood side-by-side in Heaven. And the things we would talk about while humanity was still in its infancy...Do you remember?”

  “Yes, I remember those conversations. There is not a moment of my own existence that escapes my memory. Though your memory is not what it once was, I ask you to keep this one thing in mind: We are not brothers. What you were before the Fall is possibly lost forever. You are no longer an angel, and I have no allegiances to you. It would, indeed, be a great error in judgment to think that I—or any other angel—would hesitate to strike you down. However, if you choose to disbelieve that, you only have to test me.”

  “Let’s hope that day never comes,” Ephippas remarked as he started walking away.

  “Can you conceptualize that word, hope? If it is still something that you are able to feel, know that there is still hope, even for the most vile of demons. It’s grace, Ephippas; humans all over the world are talking about it. God has already forgiven you. As soon as you realize where you were wrong and actively work to atone, you may come home.”

  Ephippas smiled and, once again, turned to face Raphael. “How kind of you to offer me the same escape you offered Jeremiah, but I think I’ll have to decline. A prerequisite of returning to Heaven is accepting that I was wrong, that I am wrong, and that I will always be wrong as long as I choose my own path, rather than be ordered around.