by Borne Wilder
Nevertheless, he realized that such annoyances couldn’t be helped when one was forced into the company of humans. Any information he might provide on using their bodies more efficiently could be construed as tampering. They would have to find out on their own, especially, when helping them with advanced knowledge affected one’s appearance in such a drastic manner. One must overcome and persevere, he told himself.
The residence appeared to contain five human lives, none of which had any bearing on the business at hand, but Baal could sense two anomalies within the structure. One puzzled him greatly, there seemed to be an irregularity about it, two irregularities, actually. One seemed to be its connection to time, while holding characteristics of other dimensions, where time is inconsequential. The second irregularity seemed to be a tie to the second anomaly.
Such characteristics were given to certain angels and principalities, to assist them in their human dealings and various other tasks, but were all strictly accounted for, and never given the connection to time. Such a connection would allow for certain abilities that were found only in those at the highest levels of management, such as archangels, or the Christ. If such abilities were to be made available to a simple human, unable to comprehend the magnitude of what was available to him, the results could be catastrophic.
Though Baal did not understand, nor was privy to the mechanics of it all, he knew in the right hands, such a connection could yield great power, possibly, the ability to merge dimensions. He congratulated himself for giving this assignment his personal attention. Collections might have over reacted and not brought this up through the proper channels. In so many words, they might have gone over his head, seeking favor from those of higher station.
The other anomaly was quite familiar. It was the soul of poor Judas, trapped in one of the thirty pieces of silver. The sum which was compensated him for disclosing the location of Jesus and making possible his arrest. Lucifer himself had sealed the soul of Judas directly into the currency, as a political statement. Lucifer had the bullocks of a sacrificial bull. Baal had always found this blatant act of defiance to be utterly amusing, though upper management had not been at all pleased with the action.
The soul of Judas was to be forever locked to the dimension of time. Perhaps that was how the other anomaly was linked to the earthly dimension. Perhaps someone had found a way to link a soul to Judas. The idea seemed preposterous to Baal, yet, no other explanation came to mind. It would have been immediately detected by the upper echelon and the matter swiftly rectified by a team of archangels. Perhaps someone had found a way to connect them in an undetectable manner. It was inconceivable that a human would have the ability to even locate one of the shekels of Tyre, let alone make the connection. Without the ability to perceive extra dimensions, they would be unable to distinguish one shekel from another of that period.
This was not Baal’s first dealing with one of these keepsakes, several had surfaced over the years and all had passed through his hands. He had turned each and every one, over to Gabriel, as per his request, but now, he couldn’t help but wonder if it might have been in his best interest to keep one back for himself. In light of the possibilities before him, he wished he had.
Baal couldn’t help but be disappointed for not recognizing the potential of the coin or the ulterior motive the Nolte fellow had when he requested to retrieve the item on his own.
Baal prided himself on his ability to detect even the slightest deceit in humans. The fact that Nolte was mentally challenged and had been able to mislead him, disturbed him greatly. The entire deception should have been detected with no more than a cursory once over. It was this inattention to detail, Baal found to be unforgivable in others. How could he have missed it? He could physically feel the wound in his pride.
Another thing Baal found unforgivable, was the violation of one’s word. The breach of one’s integrity is the most base of business activities. The thought of his own possible malfeasance sickened him, but the temptation to acquire the coin was rapidly becoming overwhelming. For the first time, since the fall of the angels, his honor was in danger of being brought into question. Simple manipulation of the regulations would not accomplish the desired results this time. For the first time, he was going to break a contract. The item must be retrieved and the anomaly dispensed.
***
“Look over there.” Michael pointed to a black limo parked down the street. “Shorty showed up.” His smile was more than a little devious. “He’s here to catch the little fish that got away.” He glanced over at the house he and Jerry had been watching. “You know it won’t take the snake long to figure out what’s in there.”
Jerry nodded quietly, his eyes fixated on the car. The one thing in all of God’s creation that gave Jeremiel pause sat inside the vehicle, not more than one hundred cubits from where he stood. Pause wasn’t a good word to describe his feelings toward the dark prince; he absolutely hated the little beast. If Baal were ever to be removed, he wanted to be the one to do it. Of course, archangels were rarely given over to sentiments such as hatred, however, it was an emotion they were very capable of harboring.
Gabriel had stripped Baal of most of his power when he had locked him into human form, though he had been forced to leave certain unsavory characteristics in place, the basic functions Baal needed to carry out his work. He could move from place to place in an instant, but he could no longer stay outside of time. He could see beyond the physical, but his supernatural sight was limited to work related matters.
As long as Jeremiel and Michael stayed in human form or within the fifth dimension, Baal was blocked to their true condition and location. What archangels did, or were doing, was given permanent non-business status, as far as Baal was concerned. A little something Gabriel had placed on him, so angels could watch over his nefarious activities and loose play regarding the rules. Gabriel played by the book and by the book only. Whenever he says, ‘I stand before God!’ he’s never boasting of his position, he’s boasting, that he has nothing to hide, there aren’t enough hiding spots in Hell, for Baal’s baggage.
“I’m sure he’s figured out the shekel is in there, but it will take him a little longer to figure out why the fabric of the chasm is being tested.” Jeremiel looked hard at the dark windows of the car. He couldn’t see the fallen prince, but he knew sawed-off pansy was in there. Jeremiel couldn’t help but smile.
Michael caught him and grinned. “I see you smiling. Have you seen him yet?”
Jeremiel nodded and his smile widened.
“Gabriel really put a hurt on his ass.” Michael couldn’t help himself from laughing. “I didn’t get to see it happen, but I saw him when he crossed over. Man, he was pissed. Gabe gave him baby legs.” Michael dabbed a finger at the corner of his eye. “Come on Jerry, we should go over and say howdy.”
Jeremiel smirked at the absurdity, but would actually love to see the look on Baal’s face when he found out Gabriel was already on top of the mishap which had occurred on Baal’s watch. “He’d shit, wouldn’t he?” His smile slowly faded to clenched teeth, he wanted to do more than see the look on Baal’s face.
Michael stopped smiling too and gave Jerry a knowing nod. He knew how much Jerry disliked Baal. As horrible and duplicitous, as Jerry found Baal’s job to be, Baal seemed to revel in it, to find happiness in severing the ties to God, and locking souls in torment.
Jerry’s job was the polar opposite of Baal’s. The way he saw it, Baal baited and lured people into situations, which held a permanence they couldn’t possibly comprehend. Baal’s offers, no matter how alluring they seemed, were absolutely worthless in comparison to what the humans were giving up. Jeremiel’s job was to help lost souls cross into Paradise.
The urge to reveal himself, and demonstrate to them, that what they were throwing away was real and invaluable, was at times, overwhelming. Even though, all the evidence man needed to see what was real and true had been written in his heart, Jerry felt that some humans oversimplified every
thing, and were unable to read it. Unable to see the forest for the trees.
Michael could see Jerry’s point to an extent, but felt that Jerry didn’t give human man’s intellect enough credit. They had been given the scriptures and the Christ to confirm them; yet, man had a tendency to dismiss them and explain them away as fables and fairy tales, as he sought to take more and more credit for himself and his situation. The realm of time was filled with clues to be sought after and discovered. The complexity of God in all things and the impossibility of all things without God surrounded them. Michael didn’t see man’s intelligence as the problem, it was his laziness.
“Would it really be so bad to just take the coin?” Michael asked. “Think about it, what’s it going to hurt? Get this shit over with and save everyone some pain. We could hang out in Monaco. No one will miss us for a few days. Baccarat? Chemmy?” Michael knew Jerry had a hard time resisting the cards.
Jeremiel looked at Michael and stared silently.
“What?” Michael asked unable to hide his smile. “That’s what shorty over there is going to try to do.”
“Baal has never actually broken a deal.” Jeremiel told him, but he knew full well, that Baal had never before had this kind of temptation placed in front of him. Baal may not know the ins and outs of what was in that house, but Jeremiel was sure he could sense the uniqueness of the item, beyond the soul of Judas. The lure of it might prove too much for him to bear. “We have no say in matters of the soul. Our hands are tied.” Jeremiel gave Michael a stern look. “We stay out of the transactions, right?”
Michael smiled, shook his head no and said, “Yes.”
Both of the angels felt the vibration at the same time. For some inexplicable reason, the little fish that got away was quickly popping back and forth between dimensions.
“Do you think he’s trying to leave with it?” Michael asked.
Suddenly the soul was gone, except for the part that had been bound to the coin, which now, seemed to be moving.
“I don’t know what is going on,” Jeremiel pointed to Baal’s car. “But Shorty felt it too.”
Baal’s driver had gotten out and opened the rear door of the limo. Baal was struggling to slide off the seat and get his feet to make contact with the street. Finally, he pushed off the seat and dropped the last six inches to the concrete. He began a rapid waddle toward the house, poking at the concrete with his tiny walking stick with every other step.
Charlie and Ron bounced down the porch steps and trotted out to Ron’s car. The fallen prince pumped his tiny legs faster and began shouting.
“Look at that,” Charlie said to Ron as he opened the car door. “It’s Mini-me at a full gallop.”
Jeremiel looked at Michael and shook his head. “Matters just became a lot more complicated.”
“Maybe not,” Michael smiled. “Gabriel pulled me aside before we left and told me, that if Baal takes possession of the coin, Jeremiel has full authority to retrieve it by any means necessary. Gabe wants to do you a solid, buddy. Any means necessary.”
Jeremiel watched the little man running up the street. An almost sinister grin spread across his face. “Any means necessary.” He repeated to himself.
10
The tiny man slowed to a walk ten or fifteen feet from Ron’s car and relied heavily on his cane to make it up the rest of the steep drive. He stopped halfway and dropped to one knee, panting and mumbling something about sending Gabriel to hell.
“Are you going to live?” Charlie asked, stepping around the car to get a better look at the man. “What in the fuck is your hurry?”
Ron walked over; reaching down to help, but Baal quickly waved him off. “I need to ask you a question about the man who lived here,” he panted. Using both hands on his walking stick, Baal pulled himself up. “My name is Mr. Baal. The man, who lived here, was a friend of mine. He and I were in the midst of a business transaction when I learned of his passing.” He paused to gulp some air. “Were you related to Mr. Nolte, perchance?”
“I think you probably want to talk to the woman in the house, her name’s Daisy, looks like a retired hooker, you can’t miss her.” Ron offered. “We were just leaving.”
“Yes, well I’m sorry to detain you, but I’m quite sure it’s you, with whom I need to speak. You see...” The little man paused for another gulp of air and to mop his forehead with a handkerchief, he had produced from his breast pocket. “You see, Mr. Nolte received an item from me, and I’ve yet to receive the payment, which we had both agreed upon, so I have come to collect the item and erase the debt.”
“Like I said, you need to take it up with the retired hooker in the house there.” Ron glanced over his shoulder to see Alice watching the conversation through the back door. There she is now.” Ron said, throwing her a wave. “Tell her Ron sent you and maybe she’ll give you a freebie.”
“Yes, well the thing is, I believe that you two are in possession of the item I seek.” Baal looked intently at each of the men.
Charlie exchanged a suspicious look with Ron. “Hey kid, I think I hear your mom calling you. Now if you’ll excuse us, we gotta scoot.”
“I can’t imagine why you would think we have your ‘item’, but whatever the fuck you’re after, that hillbilly up yonder is who you need to talk to.”
Baal’s face grew red and he stepped closer to Ron. He reached out and placed his hand on Ron’s inner thigh. A crushing pain swelled in his chest, causing his mouth to fall open in a silent scream. “Give me the fucking coin,” Baal growled, trying to make his petite, effeminate voice sound evil.
“Hey, Ron?” Confused by the sudden expression of pain on Ron’s face, Charlie leaned around the car, so he could see what was going on. Ron appeared to be frozen solid. Other than squeezing Ron’s balls and he knew Ron’s junk didn’t hang to his thigh, Charlie was unable to imagine what the child-sized man could possibly be doing to his brother to incapacitate him to the point he could neither speak nor move. Charlie quickly closed the distance between himself and the munchkin. The tiny fucker appeared to be killing Ron with a palm thrust, straight out of an old kung fu movie. Charlie was going for the little man’s throat, when the midget exploded in a flash of light, knocking Charlie back against the car.
Through the white globs that dotted his vision, he could see Ron lying on the ground beside the front tire. He was rubbing his eyes with his palms. The mini-me was right where he had been standing and applying the Palm of Death to Ron, only now he was sitting, his stubby legs poked out in front of him. A man with a beard and shoulder-length hair stood over Mr. Baal, laughing.
“Baal, what have we told you about keeping your hands to yourself and playing nice?” The man looked over his shoulder at another man, in a suit and tie, standing a few feet behind him. A fucking cop, Charlie assumed. Undercover cops. They must have used a flash bang on the little fucker.
“Did you see that Jerry? His head lit up like a firework when I popped his onion.” He directed his attention back to Baal with a light kick to the small of the little man’s back. “You were really putting the juice to that poor fellow, Baal, you’re lucky you didn’t dismantle at the quantum level when I hit you.”
Jeremiel walked over to Ron and helped him to his feet, never taking his eyes off the small man sitting in the driveway. Ron looked quickly to the house. Alice was no longer looking out the door. He assumed she had run for cover, as soon as she saw the fireworks. The hotdog idiots were gone as well. “Are you two, cops?” Ron asked, taking the words out of Charlie’s mouth. “Whatever degenerate shit our old man was into, has nothing to do with us.”
Jeremiel shook his head. “We’re not the kind of cops, you’re thinking of.” He looked down at Baal, who was glaring at back at him with a look of pure hatred. The mental image of the tiny man trundling down the street, waving his cane, returned to him. “How’s the new legs treating you?” he grinned. “Your speed was dazzling.”
The bearded man turned and walked out into the grass to retri
eve Baal’s walking stick. Charlie immediately noticed the man wore a Sons of Anarchy motorcycle cut. “SAMCRO fan, are you?” Charlie called out after him. The man picked up the small cane and held it up, turning it in the light. The cop disguised as a biker ignored him.
“What’s this made of Baal? Gopherwood? Where in the hell did you find gopher wood? This stuff hasn’t existed since the flood; did you find Noah’s boat?”
Jeremiel kicked a small stone from a crack in the drive. It ricocheted off Baal’s forehead and landed by Charlie’s hand. Charlie got himself up from the cement; he didn’t want the cop kicking rocks at him. “What’s with Jax, is he too cool for school?”
“Ssh.” Jeremiel shook his head, “He’s been wearing that thing since the first season. He quit watching the show after Otto died, but he still wears the cut.” He whispered, knowing Michael could hear every word.
“What’s with the munchkin here?” Charlie asked. “Three minutes ago, he was all assholes and elbows and now, nothing. Did the flash bang fuck him up?” Charlie moved closer to Baal looking for damage or injuries. Ron was keeping his distance. “Maybe you should call this in and get the little guy a tiny ambulance.”
Jeremiel and Michael both laughed. Michael walked up behind Baal and tapped him on his bald head with the walking stick. “Our little friend here is all ears right now, he wants to know how we came to be here and what this physical indiscretion is going to cost him.”
“There was no physical indiscretion of any sort.” Baal lied, as he tried to roll into a standing position. Michael struck him sharply with the stick, returning him to a sitting position. “There is no need for that, Michael.” Baal scolded. “As I was saying, there was no physical indiscretion of any sort. I was simply giving the man incentive to return my property to me.”
