From Heaven To Earth (The Faith of the Fallen)

by Wall, Sherrod

  Why was I not aware of this angel, the mayor thought. My wife never mentioned it. She would have, if she had known. If she didn’t know then maybe what that skia said about the Duo is true. Maybe they do have selfish motives. I need to call her about this. It would not hurt to have him investigate this further.

  “I’ve seen enough,” the Mayor said and closed the video program.

  “Ok, sir. But the second video is more convincing,” Peter said.

  “Executor.” The Mayor ejected the mini disk. He handed it to Peter and switched his computer off. “You wanted authorization to detain these half-breeds.”

  “Yes sir,” Peter said trying to keep his voice level.

  “And funds to do so?” Michael continued and pulled a small silver pen from his shorts pocket.

  “Yes sir, any funding would be appreciated,” Peter said.

  “I assume you have a form for this?” The mayor tapped the pen on his desk.

  “Yes sir.” The Executor reached down and retrieved a briefcase from underneath his chair. He put it on the mayor’s desk and glanced up and expected a rebuke since he hadn’t asked.

  “It’s fine. We don’t have time for formalities,” the mayor said.

  Peter opened the briefcase and thumbed through some papers before finding the form.

  “This form will authorize my men and I to detain, question, and try all half-breeds that we come across.” The Executor handed the form to the mayor who glanced over it.

  “All?” the mayor said. “I also see that you’ve allotted a rather large sum of money to this project.”

  “The money is for the production of several suits of the newest battle armor my experts have developed. I already paid the sum from my own pocket,” Peter said and went into a coughing fit. His mouth frothed. He seized, banged his head on Michael’s desk and lay there shaking.

  “He hasn’t been taking his medication,” Michael muttered.

  Michael opened a compartment underneath his desk. He filled a syringe with a blue liquid. It was a concentrated form of Peter’s medicine. He injected him with it.

  I had hoped I could control his anger with this. My enchantments cannot assuage his need for revenge. His body fights my attempts to erase it, like it needs the revenge to be sustained. We’re both lucky The Falling Curtain was so lenient when he killed their people, but it was only because of my wife’s intervention. Without her help they would never have given me access to bounties for Mary to give to him. He killed most of the children responsible for his childhood trauma, but his hatred was not satiated. I hate skewing his memories like this. God I hate it.

  He threw the needle away and continued looking over the form.

  “Is that your daughter?”

  “What?”

  “In the picture.”

  “Yes it is. You ask that every time you come in.”

  “Sorry, sir, my memory lapses are getting worse.”

  “Do you remember how you earned them? Through brash action. The odds are against you every time you step out the door to exact revenge on them, Peter. Their power and speed is incomprehensible by our minds. You are lucky to be alive. Without my medical attention you wouldn’t be. Will your bloodlust ever be sated? Well, Peter?”

  “They are nothing like us. Nothing.”

  “I’ve changed my mind.” The mayor stood up and stretched. “Now if you excuse me, I need to be on my way.” He walked for the door.

  “Sir!” Peter hurried after him.

  Michael pushed the elevator call button. Its doors opened immediately and the two stepped into it. Michael pushed the button to take them down to the bottom floor.

  Elevator music in the background futilely competed with the tense minds of the two men. Peter searched for words to strengthen his position, but every time he looked at the mayor’s tightly drawn face he could not muster the audacity to speak.

  The elevator doors cracked. Excited voices fluttered through the small opening before the doors parted.

  “What in the name of...” the mayor said.

  Hundreds of reporters were crowded into the lobby. Camera flashes blinded them and questions deafened them.

  Michael’s secretary stood up as they stepped out of the elevator. She waded through the sea of reporters to reach them.

  “I tried to call, sir. Your phone must have been on silent,” she said with an apologetic tone in her voice.

  “Yes, it was. Krissy take an extended vacation,” he said.

  “Sir?” she asked, unsure of his meaning.

  Michael stopped and stared at her.

  She nodded and ran back to her desk. Michael and Peter made their way through the reporters until they reached the front of the capitol.

  “Mr. Saffron,” one said, “what are you going to do about these half-breeds that decimated The Park?”

  “Is this a National Security matter?”

  “Will the military be involved?”

  “How long have you known about them?” asked another.

  “Are they all really as malicious as the news reports have depicted?”

  “Have you detained any already?”

  “Can you estimate how many are in the city right now?”

  Michael tried to drown all of them out.

  Peter put a hand on the mayor’s shoulder.

  “Sir, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for the media to get a hold of this so quickly” Peter said when he turned to him.

  Michael took Peter’s hand and drew him close.

  “Peter, you have my authorization to do what you need to do, but try to remember our own history.” Peter tried to pull back but the mayor held him fast. “A holocaust will not lead to peace. Distrust, hatred, war... that is where that road ends,” he said. He released Peter’s hand and walked ahead. Peter followed him.

  Christ. He scared the shit out of me, Peter thought. I’ll show him though. He’ll understand soon enough that I have the city’s best interests in mind.

  “Do you really think peace between all of us is possible?” Peter asked.

  “It’s in your hands now. Funds will be available shortly,” the mayor said. They walked outside the capitol to the top of the steps leading down to the sidewalk below. The mayor raised his hands to the crowd.

  My family and I need to take refuge before Peter does anything rash, Michael thought. I can only hope that what I have told him will help him realize that he doesn’t need to think in absolutes.

  The reporters quieted.

  “I know all of you must be wondering how we are going to handle the half-breeds that have secretly shared our city with us for many years.” He gestured at Peter. “This man, Executor Peter Herrero, is now in charge of neutralizing this threat. He will take your questions.”

  Peter did not know whether to be excited or frightened.

  “His press conference will begin at noon. Thank you, and have a blessed day.” The Mayor waved and walked down the steps of the capitol. The press allowed him to pass and cleared out.

  When the mayor was at the bottom of the steps near the street he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a small cell phone. He dialed the number for his chauffeur.

  “Yes sir, I’m pulling around the block now.”

  “Take Xoe home. It’s an emergency. Call her school for me.”

  “Yes sir.”

  He dialed his wife next and waved down a cab.

  “Why haven’t you been answering your phone?!” His wife yelled at him when the call connected. “The Curtain has been berating me for being unavailable because of this Park incident last night, and the last thing I need is for you to be unavailable when I need you. I called you after I watched the news this morning and haven’t been able to reach you. Where have you been?”

  “Vern, honey, I’m sorry.” The Mayor pushed his left ear closed with his free index finger so he could hear his wife. “The phone was on silent while I was meeting with Peter.”

  “Do you have any idea what’s been shown on the news
!” she continued.

  “Yes I know. It’s time for a vacation. Call and make the arrangements with our contacts at the airport.”

  “Yeah, I need to calm down. A vacation. You’re right. We need to get out of the city,” she said.

  “Keep Xoe safe. She’s being driven home now. I’ll meet you at the airport. Ok?” Michael told her.

  “Ok,” she said.

  “Good, I’ll see you at the airport. Love you,” Michael said.

  Ok, ok. Love you too, I’ll see you there,” she said, and hung up.

  A yellow cab pulled up in front of the mayor. Its window rolled down and the driver craned his neck to look at Michael.

  “Yo, you need a ride?” the burly cab driver asked from the front seat.

  “Yes. To the airport please,” Michael answered.

  “You got it,” the driver said.

  The next call Michael placed was to his accountant.

  “Good morning, sir.”

  “Yes. I wanted to let you know that at least 10 million will be withdrawn from the main account today. Remove all emergency holds on my funds until further notice.”

  “It will be done, sir. Thank you for the warning.”

  Michael sighed.

  “Is everything alright, sir?”

  “Yes. Thank you. Have a good day.”

  Michael hung up.

  While you still can, he thought.

  He crossed himself and prayed for guidance: for himself and for Peter.

  Chapter 37

  When Drean, Gerald and Riell passed through the doorway of the house Grakan stepped in and closed the door behind them.

  “Right now we’re standing in the lobby of the mansion. If you’ll follow me...” Grakan spoke loudly over the constant moaning.

  “What is that sound?” Drean asked.

  “You’ll see soon enough,” Grakan said.

  Their footsteps clicked against the dark wooden floor of the manor. Its lobby was an expansive rectangular room. Bleached wooden columns reached up from the floor to the ceiling on both sides of them. Painted Chinese dragons twisted around them all the way to their tops.

  They stopped in front of a circular pond. An obsidian statue of a succubus and incubus, intertwined in what looked to be an uncomfortable sexual position, was at its center. Light from small torches lining the walls of the lobby reflected off of its polished stone.

  A succubae’s head was carved into the left edge of the pond, and looked over the water. The head of an incubus was on the opposite side. Both heads spouted a constant stream of water into the pond. Koi of different shapes and sizes swam in its limpid water.

  Columns held up a balcony behind the statues. Curved stairwells, one on the left and right of the balcony, provided access to it from the lobby.

  “I never get tired of looking at those two demons going at it,” Gerald said under his breath.

  “I expect no less from you,” Riell said.

  “This is in the southernmost part of the manor,” Grakan said. “The master’s study is in the northernmost. You should pass through the...”

  “Brainnnns...” a gurgling voice said from the left of them.

  Drean was closest to the zombie when it revealed itself, and he did not know how to react to the rotting figure of a man dragging itself toward him. The zombie’s head was crooked to one side, and saliva dripped from his blackened maw. Drean stepped away with his hands out showing that he meant no harm.

  Grakan turned to the voice, perturbed.

  “Pat, what in bloody hell are you playing at?” Grakan walked over to the zombie and smacked it on the side of the head.

  “Pat?” Drean chuckled to himself.

  “Don’t make fun of him,” Gerald said. “He’s a friend of mine.”

  “I apologize,” Drean said.

  Pat looked taken aback and then stood up straight. “I’m sorry, sir...” It said in mournful tones. “I didn’t mean to be bothersome... you know how I love to play with our guests.” The zombie shuffled closer to Riell who shrank back.

  “Go take a bath or something... Jesus.” She held her nose.

  “As you should, Drean.” Gerald twisted his face to show that he was disappointed in Drean’s superficiality.

  Drean lowered his eyes to the ground.

  “Pat it’s been a while!” Gerald held out his hand, which the zombie shook with great fervor.

  “Gerald! I thought that was you.” Pat tried to smile. “Can’t really see as well as I used to. How have you been?”

  “I’m hangin’ in there. You’re hurting my hand there, bud,” Gerald said.

  Pat released Gerald’s hand.

  “My apologies. It’s just good to have company in this house again. Other than the students we rarely have guests anymore,” the zombie said.

  Gerald turned to Riell to introduce her to the zombie but she glared at him.

  “Well,” He coughed. “We have some urgent business to attend to.”

  “It was a pleasure as always, Gerald.” Pat extended his hand. Gerald reached to shake it but before he could the zombie’s hand fell off.

  Pat burst into tears and bent to the ground to collect his hand.

  “You’re a zombie,” Riell scoffed. “How can you possibly be sad about this?”

  Drean gave Riell a look of disgust and brushed past her to shake the zombie’s remaining hand.

  If you touch that zombie you can just stay clear of me until you take a shower, Riell thought at him.

  Gerald tried to comfort Pat by putting his arm around his shoulders.

  “The undead can be sensitive you know!” Gerald narrowed his eyes at Riell, who threw her hands up in surrender.

  “Alright, Pat.” Riell knelt in front of the zombie, and tried to keep a straight face while she held her breath.

  “Yes?” The zombie sniffed.

  “I’m sorry if I was rude but we have to get a move on.” She moved a few steps away before taking a deep breath, and shot a questioning glance at Drean who walked past her to the zombie.

  Drean yawned before extending a hand to Pat. “My name is Drean. I am honored to meet you, Pat,” he said.

  “The pleasure was all mine,” Pat said, and shook Drean’s hand.

  “Do you play guitar?” Drean asked.

  Gerald clapped his palm against his own forehead and Riell sighed.

  “No. Never touched an instrument,” Pat said.

  Grakan eyed the group of them and cleared his throat. “I’ve come to a conclusion,” he spoke loudly to get their attention.

  “What’s that?” Drean asked.

  “A conclusion is a...” Riell began.

  “I know what a conclusion is, thank you.” Drean gave her a side-glance.

  Riell raised an eyebrow at this and folded her arms.

  “You three are unfit to travel,” Grakan said. “And where you all are going you’re going to need to be rested at the very least.”

  “We can’t waste any more time. I’m exhausted, yes, but Leoran could bring an end to everything we know at any moment. He might already be in Hell,” Riell said.

  “No. It will take him days to reach Hell without inter-dimensional travel,” Drean said.

  Gerald nodded.

  “Yeah. I wonder why he doesn’t just teleport himself there,” Gerald said.

  “He’s not powerful enough,” Drean said. “He is a shadow of a shadow. A mockery of what our Father stood for.”

  “That’s one way to say it I guess,” Gerald said. “I would have just called him a pussy.”

  “Do you all have a point?” Riell asked and gave Drean a look that could smelt steel.

  “We’re going to Hell...” Drean gestured downwards. “Now I’m not sure what you’ve heard,” he looked directly at Riell who turned her gaze away, “but it’s the exact opposite of where I spent most of my life and if Heaven is everything that is perfect: contentment, joy...”

  “Etc., etc. What’s your point?” Riell said.

&nb
sp; “I say we get some rest while we can,” Drean finished.

  “Yep. Agreed,” Gerald said.

  “Yes, my sentiments exactly.” Grakan clapped his hands three times.

  Three spheres of light appeared from the door upstairs and slunk down into the lobby. As they drew closer they could see they were translucent humans in suits: an elderly man with an eye patch over his left eye, a young man with shoulder length hair, and a headless boy.

  “These servants will show you to your rooms. Please enjoy your stay,” Grakan said. “Take care of our guests you three.”

  The ghosts floated up the staircase to the balcony, and the three of them followed behind.

  “Oh, and don’t disturb the other residents,” Grakan called after them, as Pat took his hand and used it to lift himself to his feet. “Not all of them are going to be thrilled by your presence here, Drean.”

  “Thank you for your hospitality,” Drean called back to him.

  “Of course, sir. I hope to see you again soon.” Grakan bowed to Drean as the three of them crossed into the upper part of the house.

  Grakan stood up straight, stretched his back and fluttered his wings slightly.

  “Ahh...” he said after he was done stretching. “Gri will be pleased that the angel is so powerful. I’m not sure how well Zaltus is going to take it though.”

  Pat nodded and growled. “That old sorcerer... always prowling around here like he owns something.”

  “He may own more than we know, old friend.” Grakan patted the zombie on the shoulder and felt something gooey on the palm of his hand. “We had best be wary,” he said and sniffed the black jelly on his hand. He retracted his head immediately when the stagnant smell of rotten flesh filled his nostrils.

  “If ‘we’d best be wary,’” the zombie intoned, half laughing at Grakan’s predicament, “then why didn’t you let Gerald and the others know about Zaltus?”

  “We were instructed not to, and you know as I do that Gerald already knows of Gri’s union with the sorcerer. It seems that he too has left that bit of information out.”

  Grakan looked at his palm; it cracked loudly as he hardened it into gray stone and reverted it back to flesh. The goo on his hand remained stone however, and he brushed it off. It fell to the floor and broke into several pieces.