“You had best not be threatening me.” He flipped Drean back onto his chest and drug him around to face the firing squad.
“The men are all out of ammo but we might have enough power for a prisma beam,” Suchi said.
“Fire on my command,” the Executor said.
“Yes sir,” Suchi answered.
The Executor pulled Drean’s head up by the sparse amount of hair he had left on his head.
“Can you see them, wingless? Can you see?”
“I’ve failed. Failed...” Drean gave into his hopelessness. There was nothing he could do to save them.
“Fire,” the Executor said.
The prisma beams left the barrels of the soldier’s guns. Simultaneously Drean felt a great surge of hatred and anger erupt within him. Desire for vengeance filled him and consumed his consciousness.
The beams fizzled out halfway to Xoe and Vern. They did not have enough energy to reach them.
But, he did not see that.
He burst into orange flame, and the explosion threw the Executor some distance away. A wave of heat streaked from Drean’s location to the firing squad’s and left molten glass in its wake. The squad disintegrated, their ash mingling with the white desert sand.
Vern took Xoe and scrambled away, shocked by what she saw.
Suchi shrank back in horror and looked from the pillar of flame that marked Drean’s position to the remainder of his men.
“Retreat!” he yelled. “Retreat!”
Suchi and some of his men fled immediately. Hesitant solders were turned to ash for their indecision.
Drean’s pillar of flame sank inward and dissipated into a cloud of smoke.
Peter knew staying meant cremation or worse, but his fear paralyzed him.
“No weaknesses detected. I recommend immediate retreat,” his computer said, echoing his instincts.
“This can’t be the same guy...” the Executor stammered. “His aura is black, pitch black.”
The smoke cleared.
“He’s a demon... a demon I’ve never seen before.”
Peter’s eyes traced over Drean’s drastic metamorphosis.
Incandescent white scales covered his muscled body, which had nearly doubled in size. Four pairs of white feathery wings had formed on the back of his head, near his shoulder blades, and on each of his calves. Several horns jutted forth from his head, shoulders and back. They glowed like hot metal. His irises had changed from blue to white.
Vern gaped at his transformation. When Xoe saw Drean she immediately lost consciousness from the shock.
“Xoe!” Vern checked her pulse and made sure she was breathing. “She probably just couldn’t take seeing him like this.” She knelt down in the sand and held her daughter close.
Drean watched the retreating soldiers for a moment and uttered something in the guttural language of demonic.
“Activate translator,” Peter whispered.
“Translator active,” his computer answered.
“What did he just say?”
“Cowardly wretches, die in flames ignited by your own sins!” his computer answered.
“God help us,” the Executor said.
Drean stretched a finger out into the air and pointed at the soldiers. He drew a line over them. As his fingers passed over each man they howled as stinging, blistering heat afflicted their bodies. Seconds after, flame erupted from their eyes, mouths and ears. Their suits, full of their melted, charred remains, fell from the sky and spilled their contents on the white sand, soiling it.
“I need to get out of here,” the Executor said to himself. “Split the remaining energy between my jet pack and armor,” Peter said.
He left his rifle in the sand.
“Energy diverted,” his computer replied.
Drean turned to the Executor and fixed his gaze on him. Their eyes met. Peter’s hand went for the button on his wrist that would activate his jetpack.
Each feather of Drean’s new wings became a tongue of golden-red flame.
Drean snarled at him.
“You are a wingless race of cowards. Now, you too will boil in your own blood. A meal demons will sup on for eternity,” the computer translated.
Peter hit the button and flew into the air. “All that in one growl,” he said. “Too bad he won’t be able to catch me.” He glanced behind him expecting to see Drean standing in the same spot.
Six lines of flame arched up from Drean’s previous position. The Executor followed them: up into the sky, above him, past him and finally in front of him. Drean hovered in the air a small distance away, his wings’ fire reaching high above him.
Drean grinned when the Executor noticed him: a smile of white, radiant fangs. He raised a finger at the Executor and grunted a few words of demonic before laughing.
“Now the pain you have inflicted comes back round one hundred fold. Burn,” the computer translated.
Peter tried to hit a button on his wrist pad to turn himself but couldn’t. Heat welled up inside of him. He yelled and grit his teeth.
Drean’s eyes narrowed and he roared.
“Innocent? How is he beyond my judgment?” the computer said. Drean lowered his finger and bore down on Peter.
“Shield,” the Executor cried out.
Right before Drean’s fist made contact with Peter a green shield enveloped him. The blow shattered the normally impenetrable shield and connected with the Executor. Peter flew through the air and crashed into the sand.
“Power failure. System shutdown imminent,” his computer said as he tumbled through the desert. The visual system on his helmet shut down as he skidded to a halt. “Son of a...” he said.
His armor liquefied and oozed off of him. As he removed his helmet Drean’s hand closed around his throat and lifted him into the air.
“Drean, no!”
Vern hobbled closer with Xoe in her arms.
He turned, grunted at her and squeezed the Executor’s neck tighter.
“Drop him! Can’t you see you’ve broken him?!” She fell to her knees. “You don’t want to end up like him!”
Drean looked at her. She could see abhorrence melt away in his eyes, giving way for humanity. His wings’ fire extinguished.
“Fight your hatred! Fight it!” She pleaded.
Drean sighed and loosened his grip on the Executor but did not drop him. His wings and horns sunk into his body. His scales became skin, and his stature returned to normal. Short black hair grew from his scalp. His wounds from the battle had healed completely. He looked deeply into the Executor’s quivering eyes.
“Where are your wings, Peter?”
Drean dropped him on the ground and left him there.
“Is she all right?” he asked Vern.
“Yeah,” Vern said. “She just passed out from your whole fire and lights display. Are you alright?” she asked.
“I am. But I don’t know what came over me,” Drean said and fell silent.
Who am I? Why did this transformation occur? he asked himself. Was it the emotion that did it? He shook his head.
“They instigated it,” Vern said, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It will be ok.”
“We don’t really have time to discuss it right now,” Drean interrupted and willed a door of light to open to take them back to the mansion.
“Right. It’s imperative we get you dressed,” Vern said, giggling to try to lighten the mood.
Drean blushed and covered his nakedness.
“After you,” he said.
“Thank you, sir.” Vern stepped through the door and Drean followed.
The three of them exited and stood inside the mansion’s foyer. It closed behind them.
“Welcome back,” Grakan said. He bowed low to Drean, who bowed in return.
“Thank you. I must get to your master,” Drean said.
“Gri sends his regards and these garments.”
The gargoyle held out a folded white robe. Its material shimmered.
Drean r
eached out to take the gift and stopped when he touched it.
“So warm, it’s like...” He tried to place the similarity but could not.
“Celestinite,” the gargoyle said. “Yes, it’s a product of the metal.”
“But how?” Drean took the robe and slipped it over his body. “How would you obtain such a robe?”
“Like you said, you must see the master. You have more pressing matters to attend to,” Grakan said.
“Right.” Drean nodded in agreement.
“I’ll attend to our new guests.” He smiled at Vern.
“Be sure you do.” Drean turned to Vern and Xoe. “And you two take care.”
“Thank you, Drean. Good luck with your future endeavors,” Vern said.
“I’ll need it.” Drean summoned a door of light to take him to Gri’s quarters, but before he could step through the door, his vision blurred as the half-demon, half-human summoned him.
Chapter 48
Gerald, Riell and Grizaltus watched an explosion of sand and fire engulf Drean.
“Drean, no!” Riell said. She stood up from the couch. “I’m going,” she said. “You can’t stop me,” she said to Grizaltus. He was at his lab desk tinkering with the nearly finished medallion.
“He can,” Gerald said, remembering how Grizaltus made him kiss the ceiling earlier without moving a finger. “And he will.”
Riell fell back on to the couch. “God damnit I don’t want to sit here and watch him die!”
“He’s fine,” Gri said.
“How would you know?! You’re not even watching!” Riell shouted.
Gri turned and stared at her. Riell found it hard to look into his eyes without trembling, so she looked back at the television.
“I’m scrutinizing his every move, and so is Zaltus.” He opened his desk and retrieved a small telescope, magnified the middle of the medallion and inspected the crystal’s fit. Satisfied with his work, he placed both of the items on his desk and walked over to the couch. He sat between Riell and Gerald, and watched Drean all the while.
“There seems to be something wrong with him,” he assessed.
“Yeah, he’s mortally wounded, dangerously low on Inner and completely defenseless!” Riell snapped.
“No I’m not referring to his physical state. His spiritual alignment has completely inverted.”
“Inverted?” Gerald asked. “What exactly does that mean for him?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, Gerald,” Gri said. “I really have no idea what is going to come of this.”
Suchi’s squad fired at Xoe and Vern. Riell put her hands over her mouth.
“He’s failed!” Zaltus said.
Their prisma beams fizzled. Drean burst into a pillar of flame.
“Drean!” Riell yelled.
Everything was burning. Images flashed in her head: London, Shrazz, The Park. All of it aflame. Her images became reality: everything around her was burning. She could not stop it, and she could not stop screaming Drean’s name.
Gerald held her and tried to comfort her.
Riell closed her eyes, calmed herself and removed herself from the hallucination, but she could not stop crying.
I’ve lost him. His innocence is gone. Burned to ash by this war. What can we do now? What will become of us? Of all of us?
She pushed Gerald away and slugged his shoulder.
“I’m fine.”
“Okay. Jesus.”
Zaltus opened his mouth to say something sardonic.
The firing squad was disintegrated by a wave of fire. His mouth remained open, and his voice remained silent.
“Drean is controlling that fire,” Gri stated. “No, he is the fire.”
I never knew an angel was capable of this, Gerald thought. Then again, he isn’t really an angel anymore.
“He’s too enraged,” Gerald said. “He won’t stop until they’re all dead.”
The fire veiling Drean’s transformation sunk inward.
Gerald sucked in a breath and held it. Why did he change into a demon? I thought only angels that have slain their own kind are cursed like that.
Zaltus was left in shock, his mouth still wide open.
“Close our mouth please. We’re drooling all over ourselves,” Gri said.
Zaltus complied.
Riell was on the verge of another panic attack when Drean spoke.
“What did he just say?” she asked.
“Something about the soldiers being cowards. Their sins will be their undoing or something. My olde demonic is out of practice,” Gri said.
He stood up, retrieved a book on southern cooking, sat back in his chair and thumbed through it.
One by one the soldiers exploded as Drean drew a line through each of them with his finger.
“I can’t watch anymore,” Riell said, “I’ve lost him...” she whispered and noticed Gri was reading. “How can you sit there and daydream about food when Drean has turned into a homicidal demon!” Gri did not pay her any heed. “We should be thinking about how to counteract it! To bring him back!” she sobbed.
“No, he’s fine. I know he’s not a demon, it’s just part of who he is as a seraph, or... whatever he is now. Was just thinking about some country fried steak...” Gri said.
“How do you know that?” Riell asked, “How can you be so sure? You know nothing about him! Nothing!” Riell’s hand went to her sword. “Your whore did this to him, didn’t she?”
She stood up, drew her sword and prepared to sever Gri’s head from his body. Gri did not even glance at her, but she found she could no longer move.
“Sit down please,” he said.
Riell sheathed her sword and sat back down.
“Your game has killed us. Killed him. I’ll never be able to look at him the same.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry!”
“Let him talk, Riell,” Gerald said. “If anyone knows about what’s going on with Drean right now it would be him.”
“His aura is not that of a demon,” Gri said. “It’s indicative of something else, something I have never seen before.”
“How do you know that it’s just a demon you yourself have not seen?” Riell asked.
“I am the leading demonologist on this plane, Riell. Why else would you be here seeking my counsel?”
“Who is he to judge us?” Zaltus interrupted, his voice finally coming back to him. “I refuse to relinquish my part of the deal.”
“After putting him through all this shit you will,” Gerald said.
“You have no say!” Zaltus screamed. “I refuse to trust this misanthrope!”
“He was provoked,” Riell decided. “He felt like he had no other choice.”
Gri nodded.
“Who are you to judge him, Zaltus?” Gri asked.
Zaltus muttered something under his breath in response.
“What was that?” Gri asked. “All I heard was I don’t want my ‘special time’ tonight.”
“You will not talk to me as if I were a pet!”
“Fine,” Gri said. “No succubae for you this evening. How about a week? Yes, a week sounds like a fine arrangement to me.”
Zaltus was taken aback.
“I’ll consider it,” he mumbled.
“Glad I could change your perspective,” Gri said.
“He’s going to kill him,” Gerald breathed as Drean strangled the Executor.
“He won’t,” Gri said. “His aura is showing an inflection. It’s changing back to normal.” As he finished his sentence Drean reverted and dropped the Executor on the ground.
“Well, that’s it then,” Gri said. He closed his book and placed it on the desk. With a snap of his fingers the television was off. Riell and Gerald gave him questioning stares. “He’ll be here soon,” he said. “Final preparations must be made.”
Riell and Gerald’s gaze shifted over to the Zaltus side of Grizaltus’ face.
“I concede,” he said to them. “Where is it?”
“Where you left it,” Gri said. “Oh, Gerald, on the right side of the couch there’s a small knapsack. You are to take that with you,” Gri said as he walked over to his lab desk. Grizaltus picked the medallion up, closed his eyes and muttered an incantation.
Gerald felt for the bag and picked it up when he found it. He opened it and investigated.
“There’s food in here!”
He reached in and pulled out a hunk of bread.
“I’m sure it’s for the trip. Save it for later.” Riell gave him a look of disgust as he ate it ravenously.
“What? I don’t know when you ate last, but I’m starving!” Gerald said with his mouth full.
“Fine, finish that piece of bread. Just don’t talk with your mouth full, please.” Riell shook her head.
Gerald swallowed. “Whoa. I’m already full.” He put the rest of the bread back into the backpack.
“Yes the enchanted food and water in the knapsack is highly nourishing and filling,” Gri said.
Riell this is Exous Elite Trat’Re. The Duo require your presence for questioning.
“Everyone shut up for a second,” Riell said.
Regarding what exactly?
The events concerning The Park incident and the status of Exous Elite Shrazz.
Shrazz is dead.
You are certain?
Yes. I killed him.
You are aware I can use this as a confession and that you will be tried accordingly before the Duo for your action?
Yes.
Do you have anything to say in your defense?
Only that I did what I had to do.
Your court date will be a week from today at 0900.
I can’t make it. In fact I won’t be coming. Consider this my resignation.
You are aware of the consequences?
Of course I am. I have more pressing matters to attend to than the whims of the Duo, and I’m sure they are aware of that.
Can you remain available for a moment?
Yes.
“The Falling Curtain wants me dead,” Riell said.
“Why?” Gerald asked.
“I told them I killed Shrazz.”
“Well that is true...”
Riell?
Yes.
The Duo want to debrief you personally. When shall I schedule it?
From Heaven To Earth (The Faith of the Fallen) Page 36
