From Heaven To Earth (The Faith of the Fallen)

by Wall, Sherrod

  “You didn’t go back to London did you? I thought England was too traumatic for you.”

  Shrazz leaned back into his chair. He heard the leather in Riell’s gauntlets stretch as she tightened and un-tightened her fist.

  “London? No, I was actually closer to Cardiff.” She tried to remain nonchalant, but Shrazz could see her right fist was still clenched.

  “You still haven’t visited the city since that fire?” Shrazz asked. “That’s a bit juvenile I think; to have an irrational fear like that. I ignited that dump centuries ago. Should have gotten a medal for starting ‘The Great Fire.’” He laughed. “It was great indeed.”

  She could see the top of his round, bald head in the light and the scars that covered it. Riell wanted to remind him of how he had earned them when they were adolescents, just learning how to channel Inner: the creative energy inherent in all living beings and highly concentrated in celestials, demons and half-breeds. He had channeled more than he could handle and had set his unkempt, shoulder length black hair ablaze. She thought of how he screamed, ran around the training room and pulled his hair from his head. Instead of laughing, she found herself surrounded by the towering flames that claimed her first home and almost her as well.

  “So should I find someone else who can follow orders?” Shrazz asked after she did not respond. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

  She tried to keep her vivid imagination in check but could not. Her breathing quickened, and her body shuddered.

  “Maybe you should,” Riell said. “It was a pleasure, Exous Elite.” Riell turned from the table to leave.

  “Hold on, Riell,” Shrazz said. “This angel could disrupt the whole of existence.”

  Riell paused.

  “I apologize for the harsh words, but we need to follow our orders to the letter. It is our world that is in jeopardy, Riell. Human lives are at stake as well. We must consider that in every decision we make. The Duo have charged us with bringing him in. Only they have the ability to contain him before he causes an irrevocable catastrophe.”

  His apology made her smile. Her paranoia subsided but her anger remained. She opened her mouth to bludgeon him with her words, to tell him that his title did not compare to her combat and practical experience, that without her guidance he would have remained the brash, incapable fledgling that he had been only a few centuries ago.

  “In that case I will be on my way,” Riell said instead. “He is on the move.”

  He’s hiding something, she thought. I’ve never heard him speak about Earth or the humans like that. I need to see what is truly going on with all of this.

  “I don’t know why you still feel the way you do about this place,” she said and shook her head. “You live in the most stagnant part of the city on pizza, beer and petty thieves. I would think that you would at least have a harem of women at your disposal.”

  “After this job we will want for nothing,” Shrazz said and grinned at Riell. His sharp rows of teeth glinted in the yellow light. “Want to do some celebrating once everything is said and done like the old days? We can do a tour de France.”

  Riell ignored him, put her hair up, opened a portal and stepped through.

  Shrazz laughed.

  “I missed you too, Riell.”

  Chapter 9

  Drean watched humans making merry from the bar and did not know what to think. Their candor stunned and amazed him as much as the pub itself.

  A young classical guitarist sat in one corner of the pub with a small audience, fervently plucking and strumming his instrument. His lively music had distracted Drean: although second to the voice of God, he had never heard anything so awe inspiring in his life. Gerald had given up trying to have a conversation with him. The man finished his song, thanked his applauding audience and put a beanie over his long hair.

  “I guess he’s done for the night,” Gerald said. “Gonna hang out with me now?”

  “Sorry. Is there more music like this that I can hear? Are there more humans that can manipulate that, um…”

  “Guitar? I told you before it’s a guitar. And yeah, there’s a lot of music like that out there. He’s the best I’ve seen live though.”

  “Live? There are undead capable of such art on Earth? What a strange place,” Drean said.

  “What the hell are you two talking about?”

  “Right, I didn’t even introduce you two,” Gerald said to the short man who had interrupted them. “This is my friend Drean, Greg.”

  Drean glanced up at Greg and gave him a nervous smile.

  Greg extended his hand across the bar.

  “Good to meet you.”

  Drean regarded his gesture curiously.

  “Take his hand,” Gerald muttered.

  Drean gingerly held Greg’s hand and did not let go. Greg pulled himself away from Drean’s grip and confusion crossed his pale, freckled face. He squinted one of his dark brown eyes at Drean and stared at him with his open eye.

  “Uh, sorry, Greg. He’s a little new to our customs,” Gerald said.

  “Of course,” Greg said, and looked around for something else to do.

  “I’ve never been to a bar before,” Drean said.

  “You’ve never been to a bar?” Greg asked. “Huh. How old are you?”

  Drean opened his mouth to answer, but Gerald was quicker.

  “He’s twenty-three!” He clapped one of his calloused hands on Drean’s back. Drean winced. “I know it’s a bit weird that he hasn’t been to a bar before...”

  “Yeah it is,” Greg said.

  “Or The Circ for that matter,” Gerald finished.

  “Twenty-three? I thought he was at least thirty-five. I need to card more often...” Greg said.

  “Why are all these people in costume again?” Drean asked.

  “Well, I’m sure Gerald has told you a little about this area,” Greg said.

  “Yes, he told me each area represented different human cultures...”

  At the word “human,” Greg squinted.

  “...periods in history and sexual orientation. And, even though I’m still really uncertain about what sexual orientation is, I do get the whole underlying point of this area.”

  Greg stifled a chuckle and Gerald glared at him over the top of his mug as he took a drink.

  “I know it’s humorous that I’m naïve,” Drean said. “You don’t have to try to hide it.”

  Greg laughed, and it took over a minute for him to calm himself.

  “His virginity is not funny, man,” Gerald said. “When did you get your first bedroom groove on, huh? And I’m not talkin’ the late night Internet cha-cha.”

  Greg coughed and opened his mouth to speak.

  “Our drinks had better be on the house tonight, Greg,” Gerald interrupted. “Otherwise your boss will hear of this.”

  “Um. Of course, sir, of course,” Greg said. He took Gerald’s mug, refilled it and set it back in front of him.

  “That’s more like it!” Gerald said.

  “You were talking about this establishment?” Drean asked Greg.

  “Right, ok. This section of The Circ is devoted to medieval and Gothic cultures.”

  “Gerald told me that.”

  “This pub is a good example of both. Look at the detail in the woodcarving. Below you for example.”

  Drean saw a carving of a crescent moon on the wood under the bar.

  “Toward the middle, you will see a large cross, and on the right side of the pub is a sun with a human face,” Greg continued.

  Drean tried to see around the legs of humans to the right of him and caught a glimpse of the cross.

  “If you look at each corner of the room, you’ll see columns carved into the stone wall.”

  Drean looked at the corner to his left, followed it up to the top and stopped when he reached where it connected with the ceiling. Its top resembled curved flower petals. Drean marveled at this.

  “Yeah, the owner really knew how to put this place togethe
r,” Greg said when he saw Drean’s reaction. “But the best part is the ceiling. I stared at it for hours when I first started working here.”

  Drean turned around in his barstool, looked up at the domed ceiling and nearly fell over.

  Stone dividers carved to look like leafy vines, extended from the four corners of the room and separated the ceiling into four paintings.

  Above Drean, a full moon’s light shone from a clear night sky, and reflected off the black steel full-helmet of a knight. His blue eyes stared through small slits of the armor.

  The knight’s interest was fixed upon a woman’s head which was draped in snow-covered black furs and to the right of him. Wisps of long black hair curtained her face. Moonlight caught her amber eyes and glistened on the dark skin of her face as she stared upwards into a winter’s night.

  Below her, an autumn morning wind blew fallen leaves into the flowing blond hair of a green-eyed slender woman. Dawn’s sunlight reflected from her fair skin.

  She gazed longingly at a man on her left that shared her features. A sun grinned behind his head in a cloudless sky.

  At the ceiling’s center a stone flower blossomed, its petals breaching each of the painting’s borders.

  “Amazing isn’t it?” Greg asked.

  Drean did not even hear him.

  These humans are wonderful creatures, Drean thought. I had no idea they were capable of producing beauty such as this.

  “Well, it was nice meeting you, Drean. I’ll leave the two of you to your drinks while I help these other customers.”

  Greg shook his head and walked away.

  “I’m sorry about that guy, Drean,” Gerald said.

  “No, it’s fine. He was really helpful.” Drean smiled at the fallen angel.

  “Yeah. I guess if he didn’t know anything he wouldn’t work here.” Gerald frowned in Greg’s direction. “Have you tried any of your beer yet?”

  “My beer? Is that what this is?” Drean pointed at his mug.

  “Yep,” Gerald said. “You haven’t touched it!”

  “Sorry, I guess I didn’t know what to do with it,” Drean said when he heard the dismay in Gerald’s tone. “What is it?”

  “It’s what keeps these humans sane,” Gerald answered. “They come here with problems in their hearts and rely on these drinks to wash them away.”

  “But what do they have to be sad about? Look at the place where they live... this world, it is so beautiful.”

  Gerald took a swig from his mug. “Yes, Drean, but they are imperfect.” He chuckled. “They make mistakes, the greatest of which is their belief that they are flawless. When they are reminded of their imperfections, they get a little sad.”

  “So am I to drink it?”

  Gerald laughed. “No, you’re supposed to sit and stare at it. Maybe it’ll say something to you if you look at it long enough.”

  Gerald took a long swig from his mug while Drean considered his own drink.

  “Try it. I didn’t know what you would like or if you’re even a beer man for that matter,” Gerald said. “But I decided an Optimator would be a good start.”

  Drean sipped his beer.

  “It tastes disgusting!” he exclaimed and pushed the mug away. “I don’t think I’m going to have any more.”

  Gerald had finished his own mug off by that time. Greg noticed and refilled it. “There you are. You enjoying yourself, Drean?”

  “Yes. Thank you,” Drean said.

  “Great.” He walked away.

  “You just have to drink it quickly. It tastes better after you’ve had a little.” Gerald chugged some of his beer.

  “Alright. I want to know. Why are you helping me?” Drean asked.

  “Well,” Gerald set his mug down and turned to Drean, “you need someone like me: someone who has wasted their life. I used people in ways I can’t describe, Drean. Just because I could.”

  “So you believe you can prevent me from sinning? I do not foresee myself following such a self-destructive path.”

  “You believe you are invincible, but I am here to tell you, Drean... you are more vulnerable than ever. I will be there when you make your mistakes. When your regret weighs you down and your deeds cuff you; I will be there to help you set yourself free.”

  Drean stared into his mug.

  “And when everyone comes after you I’ll be there to kick their ass.”

  “Who is everyone?”

  “Half-breeds. Including The Falling Curtain’s assassins.” Gerald trailed off as he drank more of his beer. “I heard rumors of some secret tournament that was held shortly before you arrived. Leaders of half-breed headhunting groups gathered and killed each other for a chance at a mission: You.”

  Drean decided he would drink more of his beer after all.

  “An enchanter might be pissed at you too now that I think of it.” Gerald laughed. “So yeah. Everyone.”

  “Why would everyone want to destroy me?”

  “Because they all think you’re a threat to their existence. God doesn’t send too many angels down from Heaven to do His bidding. By not too many, I mean you’re the first that I know of.”

  Drean stared into his mug.

  “Satan doesn’t want you here because he has worked hard to keep the Faithstream away from God to amass power and take over the Heavens.”

  Drean took another sip of his beer. “But who are these half-breeds? Wait... I saw one I think.”

  “When?”

  “Before I met you.”

  “Oh yeah, that skia that was following you. She was a powerful one,” Gerald said.

  “A skia?”

  “Skia are half-angels born from the seed of fallen angels like me. Human females turn into lesser succubae after encounters with the fallen. I’m not sure how the skia remain pure.”

  “Succubae?”

  “A corrupted female angel, although I doubt there are many pure ones left.”

  “I don’t remember any female angels in Heaven,” Drean said.

  “God used to create female angels.”

  Drean looked perplexed.

  “That was before one of them tempted Lucifer, who defied God’s wishes when he hooked up with her. I mean they had sex.”

  “I understand what you mean, somehow,” Drean said. “Continue.”

  Gerald set his empty mug aside and motioned for another. “Thanks...” Gerald drank half of the mug in one gulp. “After that happened, God banished the women, including Lucifer’s loved one.”

  “I have no memory of this at all,” Drean said. “Why did he only banish the women?”

  “You probably hadn’t been created yet. And, I don’t know for sure. Lucifer only explained how the act was immoral. I’m not sure if he knew God’s mind either.”

  “How did you come to trust him?” Drean asked. “I don’t understand how any of my brethren could trust him.”

  “He told us that God was being an irrational tyrant and that he had no right to call Himself a God of love when he acted against what love stands for,” Gerald said.

  “And Lucifer did?” Drean asked.

  “He seemed to have a good explanation for his feelings,” Gerald said, and took another sip of his beer to avoid Drean’s judging eyes. “While many of us lusted for our women, I can see after living on Earth that he loved Annarae. That was his consort’s name. He was the only one that knew love.”

  “I thought you said you regretted taking part in the war?” Drean asked. He did not like Gerald’s respect for Lucifer.

  “I regret that we decided to start a war in Heaven, yes,” Gerald said.

  Drean nodded and drank more of his beer.

  “But I do not regret trying to make God understand his decision was wrong. We could have started a petition or held a council or something.”

  “You’re saying that God made a mistake?” Drean asked. “That isn’t possible.”

  “A petition? Why didn’t we think of that before?” Gerald asked and chuckled.

 
Drean shook his head. “He couldn’t have made a mistake. His foresight is perfect.”

  “God didn’t foresee this did He?” Gerald asked, his words slurred together. “I mean shit. He’s dying. You’re down here drinking beer, and everyone is in an uproar about it! If He hadn’t banished all our women we would be up in Heaven partying now! Now that’s harmony! Can you see it? The music, the beer and the women? Now that’s my kind of Heaven.”

  Gerald saw his reflection in his beer mug: boils and pock marks caught in a web of scarification and wrinkles. He drained his mug and pushed it aside before it depressed him.

  God never intended us to live like humans, Drean thought. Or did he? He looked at Gerald.

  “Hey, try not to worry about this stuff.” Gerald clapped him on the back. “I’m sure God will be much more lenient after He gets His power back.”

  Drean nodded and stared at the bar.

  If Father knew what would happen He is jeopardizing Himself for some reason that I cannot see. If He didn’t know, then maybe He was unfit to rule. Drean felt dizzy with anxiety. He had never correlated his Lord with contradiction before.

  I have to have faith. He gave me free will for a reason, and I cannot be scared of my thoughts. Neither can I forget my duty. Drean drained his glass in an effort to snuff out his growing concern.

  “You’re right; it does taste a little better in large amounts.”

  Gerald was astonished and finished his mug off too. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled at the barkeep.

  “Hey, Greg, start bringing two at once!”

  Gerald’s throat constricted and he coughed to clear it. Blood spattered on his hands. He felt hazy. His body tingled, and his legs numbed. He steadied himself on the bar and coughed up more blood.

  He glanced at Drean as he cleaned himself and the bar up with a napkin. Drean had not noticed. He coughed again.

  “Are you ok?” Drean asked.

  “Yeah. Just went down the wrong way.”

  “You’ve been doing that all evening.”

  “Coughing?”

  Drean nodded.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Gerald breathed in and out. His fit passed.

  Greg gave them their drinks, walked to the end of the bar and spoke to a man whose tan skin reflected no light. His eyes startled Drean. His irises were as white as his well-kempt goatee: the only hair on his head.