Holy Sheoly

by Hunter Blain

  What do you mean? I asked, seeing a collection of dots that I knew were supposed to connect somehow, but unable to draw the lines and form a clear picture.

  Most of the Fallen simply wanted Father to hold us in the same esteem as the humans he had created. We voiced our concerns, and Michael led his obedient army of my brothers against us, forcing sides to draw arms in what should have been a conversation. We only tried to defend ourselves. Baleius slowly shook his head from side to side as his eyes remained fixated on a point in space. We didn’t want to kill our brothers, and once we were defeated, we surrendered and begged for Father’s mercy. Michael was the one who spoke for Father, stripping us of our celestial right that was our armor and gladius before casting us from Heaven, our home. We fell and fell for what seemed like ages, with only Samael having the power to land on Earth. He fueled his rage and turned into a literal dragon that was about to swallow the Earth, until...

  I knew what happened next, as Taylor had told me Lilith’s story as she had passed it down to him. It was incredibly curious and disheartening to hear the tale told from two different points of view. It made me sick that Michael had been allowed to do all this. Then again, he was an archangel, right? Weren’t they made to enforce God’s will?

  I wanted to ask about the suffering aspect that had started this intense conversation, but was unable to find the words. Baleius seemed to sense this and glanced at me for a moment, willing his eyes to focus before staring off into space again.

  While Samael was on Earth, we resided in Hell, trying our best to create a community of free angels. That was until Samael gave life eternal to Lilith, freeing man from the prison of Eden. After, Michael threw our leader in with us, and charged the Fallen with punishing the souls of the mortals. We refused, of course, all but laughing at the absurdity. I still remember Michael’s toothy smile as he stood at the gates of Hell before slamming them closed forever. Baleius shifted to a cold whisper. The hunger started shortly after.

  I gulped as I felt the weight of his words creep into my mind, knowing what it was like to have no choice in doing something so despicable as to be unfathomable to someone looking in from the outside.

  Innocent blue eyes stared in absolute horror over rosy cheeks glistening with tears.

  Michael had the last laugh. It took decades for the change to take over. The more we fed off the suffering of man, the more we...Baleius closed his eyes as his ears grew into those of a bat while his nose shrunk to slits, and fangs protruded from his lips. Those of us with wings that weren’t destroyed in battle or burned up during our fall, watched in horror as the feathers fell out one by one, leaving behind leather that belonged to monsters.

  I stared in shock for several moments before I blinked and my doppelgänger was back to normal, his demonic features returning to that of a man.

  Sick, I breathed out before realizing how it might sound to Baleius. I mean what he did. Not...not your, ah, face...and stuff.

  That’s one way to put it, Baleius concurred with a light nod of his head.

  You’re saying Michael was the one that punished the Fallen?

  Working on behalf of Father. I am quite confident that Michael spoke his truth and manipulated the situation.

  What?! Michael manipulated God? I, ah, find that hard to believe.

  There is so much more you don’t understand, Baleius said, grabbing both temples with the thumb and middle finger of one hand before shaking his head a few times.

  Can you help me understand, then? I asked with my hands out to my sides, palms up.

  All you need to know is that Michael turned the Fallen into demons, simply because we wanted His love. There was a reverence when Baleius said “His” that I understood, though couldn’t fully comprehend. I had always been fully loved by my parents, but could put myself into a hypothetical situation in which I craved their approval and adoration, only to have the affection you longed for fall to the equivalent of a dog. It was at that moment that I understood how lucky I was to have a mother and father that loved me unconditionally. I pitied Baleius at that moment.

  I told my body to begin walking again as I tried to formulate into words the notion of an idea that was beginning to coalesce in my brain.

  I made it half a block, repeating the question over and over again, until it was time.

  The world outside froze as I retracted inside the control room of my mind once more.

  Baleius? I started, fearing the answer to the question I was about to ask while simultaneously being nervous to reveal too much to the literal demon in my head. I was never a fan of feeling vulnerable.

  Yes?

  What will happen if I go to Hell with what I did to...to...

  The child?

  All I could do was wordlessly nod in answer as my throat constricted like I was being choked by an ogre, and the bottom dropped out of my stomach.

  With the celestial armor, the sins of your soul will be of no consequence. You could burn a busload of orphans clutching puppies and still knock on the gates of Heaven afterward. It’s one reason Father stripped us of what was ours; so we could never return home.

  I stared at him, willing him to continue as I tried to swallow.

  John, you won’t be placed in a cell like some common mortal. You are beyond sin now.

  Gabriel said that the reason I could travel to Hell in the first place and then come home again was because my soul was bound for Heaven.

  What, like a balloon?

  I guess. What if we go down and can’t find our way back because of what I did?

  John, did you have the armor the first time you went? Baleius asked in a statement rather than as a question. Maybe the fact that your soul was pure mattered before. But it doesn’t now. You will be able to travel to and from planes without concern. You are part demon, part human, and part angel. There is nowhere in the universe you cannot travel. There has truly never been anything like you in all of existence.

  That’s neat and all, but I...I just feel like I messed up really bad with the girl. I deserve punishment.

  John, it was either the child or over one hundred billion souls. The only stain on your own soul is not being able to forgive yourself. Make no mistake; you were going to die if you didn’t feed. Ulric knew exactly what he was doing. Look at it this way. The child was going to die no matter which choice was taken. At least this way her soul is in Heaven instead of being obliterated by a senseless war between above and below.

  What do you mean I was going to die? I thought you threatened to take over once I was weak enough.

  That was hubris on my part. And, honestly, you and I have no idea what would happen if you died and I took over. For all we know, it could trigger the prophecy.

  Or more likely, Samael would kill either Ulric or you to open the gates of Hell.

  I...hadn’t considered that. Baleius really seemed to ponder what I was saying, a scowl etched into his forehead. Because of Lilith.

  Right. To make sure there was only one vampire left, he would have to kill two of the three remaining. Which is more likely? That he would kill his first love, the general of his warlock army, or a lone demon?

  Baleius’ eyes went unfocused as a frown tugged at the corners of his mouth.

  I must admit it would make the most sense to kill me. Wow, I, ah, hadn’t even considered this. Heh, maybe I would be safer in Sheol, Baleius joked with premium gallows humor.

  Well, you’d have a whole lot of roommates, that’s for sure.

  You know...it is said that Sheol is worse than oblivion. At least if one were to blink out of existence, they wouldn’t know. In the Hell of Hell, there is no escape from the eternal darkness. No sight. No sound. No feeling. Just empty nothingness for an eternity, with no hope of escape. Baleius placed his face in his hands. He whispered something to himself, but I couldn’t quite make out what he’d said. I understood, though, that it wasn’t for me to hear. Something was going on behind the scenes. Heh, I briefly wondered if he had a control roo
m inside his own head in which to escape and debate situations and ideas.

  Then his words hit home and my mind flashed to Da and Dawson.

  That’s exactly why I have to go save them.

  Baleius lowered his hands, locked eyes with me while taking in a deep breath, and then nodded once before saying, Let’s go get them.

  3

  I walked down the street at a casual pace with my hands in my coat pockets as I lackadaisically watched each foot move on autopilot. My mind noticed my Doc Martens and reminded me how Ulric had stripped me of my Fae armor before throwing me naked into the plexiglass prison.

  My face scrunched up as I thought about how odd it was that he had kept my armor, beanie, trench, and the nail in the box under his bed, but not my Fae clothes. I didn’t like it for a reason that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It was like I was looking out of a window during a rainstorm; understanding that what I was seeing through the wavering sheet of water was the outside world, but not able to make out the finer details.

  My hands glided over my black cotton shirt and then the jeans that were the same color. All I was missing was a pair of black sunglasses for the upcoming Matrix movie. Oh, wait! That was already out! Lilith, there was a ton of movies I had to binge-watch whenever I found the chance to take one freaking day off.

  I continued to inspect my body, remembered I didn’t have a belt, and reached to my lower back to see I was missing my silver kukri. My cold-iron katana was also gone. I had lost them whenever Ulric had beaten me in the streets. After waking up completely naked in that damn prison, I had only escaped with Mjolnir.

  “Fuck!” I growled as clouds thickened over the scene outside my rain-soaked window, further obscuring my view. That asshole had my freaking knife that Depweg had given me. The sword was cool too, mostly because I respected how incredibly hard it had been to make, but the knife was irreplaceable. Depweg was not going to be happy I had lost it. Though given the circumstances around how I’d gotten my celestial armor back, it was reasonable that my mind had been preoccupied with the battle at the house...and Joey’s death.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” I whispered to myself as I closed my eyes and rubbed at my forehead. I mentally walked through the scene again after Ulric had run away like a little bitch. I had opened the chest, pulled out my trench and beanie, put them on, and then retrieved the nail. There had been no kukri, sword, or Fae clothes anywhere to be seen. Maybe I should go back to the wreckage of the house in the woods and dig through the burned-out debris and see what I could find.

  Understanding teased a ray through the thick fog of procrastination, and I remembered the big picture and what I was doing at that moment. Fancy clothes, movies, and even my missing weapons could wait. I had a priest to talk to. My brain made a choice without having to think; I was going to get at least the kukri back. But for now, it was time to focus on what was important.

  I didn’t know what I was going to say to Father Thomes that would help him understand why I was risking my life to not only go to Hell—again—but to somehow make my way to the inescapable abyss that was its basement.

  As I mentally structured my argument, I came to the sickening realization that my points were lacking substance past the unmistakable feelings of guilt mixed with selfishness that were blinding me. I couldn’t convince myself that what I was doing was noble. A dense cloud of logic cast a long, cold shadow over my emotional fortitude, choking what my heart wanted with a mind that was getting fed up of being overruled on matters it considered clear-cut.

  I paused on the uneven sidewalk that had been warped by the clay foundation of Texas. Concrete swelled and shrunk conspicuously in the drastic change of seasons. My eyes locked onto a patch of green where weeds defied the odds and broke through the pavement to stubbornly reach for the sun, careless of the odds stacked against them.

  Inspired by the little plant that could, my heart lifted its chin to the blackened sky and pushed defiant toes into the sand. I didn’t have to explain anything to my brain. I knew it in my heart that I had to save my friends from a torment they didn’t deserve. It was the right thing to do, and I would fucking do it without hesitation. Doubt would not win this day.

  With a silent scowl of disapproval, the dense clouds in my mind thinned and drifted apart, letting a self-righteous sense of well-being cascade over my unyielding heart. If I didn’t act on what I knew to be right, then why even try to save a world boiling over with hate?

  If I wanted to make this world a better place, I would start by being its champion and leading by example. I would rescue those thought impossible to save. Children didn’t deserve to die of cancer. Puppies didn’t warrant to be put down in shelters. The pristine innocence of our children and the overflowing love from our pets were just two instances that balanced the ugliness of humans that warred over things like imaginary lines on a map, whose god was the right one, or even just a basic difference in thinking. The fools screaming at one another online over menial ideologies like politics gave me a headache. 5+5=10 but so does 6+4, 7+3, and 12-2. Just because we see things differently from our neighbor doesn’t mean we are wrong.

  Humans could bring about great change when they put their collective minds together, if only they could get past their own overwhelming, cancerous greed.

  My squeezing fists popped inside my coat pockets and I ground my teeth at the thought of such wasted potential and those that suffered because of it.

  I thought about Father Thomes sharing with me how the Church spread fear and falsehoods for financial gain and sanctimonious superiority over other religions, even ones that shared a drastically similar belief of God and his son, Jesus Christ. It made me sick to be bathed in the blinding lies that men told one another. Even the Lord of Hell himself had confirmed that he didn’t care about the mortals and their daily sins. And if that was indeed the case, then it would stand to reason the same would apply to Heaven above, especially if one were to consider the covenant that prohibited God’s intervention.

  A wave of nausea washed over me and I bent over at the waist and rested my hands just above my knees. If I was right in my gut feeling, then all people had to do to end up in the Kingdom of Heaven was to be an overall good person. Something the King of Hell said to me came to mind.

  By thine own hands dost thou decide eternity, Samael had confessed while uncharacteristically exhausted at the mere words.

  It wasn’t this epiphany that made my stomach lurch and head fill with helium; it was the fact that seemingly every facet of mankind was built on taking resources from those who followed. The government, religion, businesses, they all demanded their prices be paid in the form of forced monetary recompense, hours of your day, and complete obedience for fear of punitive punishments. Only a few sat at the top and made the biased decisions that solely appeased others in power, often at the cost of those who simply tried to live day by day.

  A part of me knew that there was a portion of a mortal’s mind that relished in structure, order, and comfortable consistency, but it was becoming painfully clear that these basic needs were being used in a manner teetering on abuse. For some reason, my mind flashed to the deep-sea predator that dangled a flashing orb to attract hapless prey just before a yawning maw filled with jagged teeth pierced flesh and consumed the precious life essence. Then the orb would begin flashing anew, ready for the next meal without a care for the one already devoured.

  I decided right then that I needed to be the change I wanted reflected in the world. I would continue to fight for the innocent, but perhaps it was time to extend my focus to more than just reactively punishing the wicked. I knew where I would start, but after my visit with Father Thomes Philseep.

  Pulling my hands from my pockets, I set my jaw, took a calming breath, and continued walking, but with a renewed purpose in each step.

  With my mind made up and clear of thought, I glanced up at the white, fluffy clouds that lazily drifted overhead. It was alien to me that the sun no longer seemed violen
t in its magnificence. Where before there were hungry tendrils reaching out into the night, wavering over one another for dominance, now sat a clear blue sky with chirping birds. People bustled along throughout their days, unaware of the guillotine that was the approaching prophecy hanging precariously over their necks.

  Shaking my head clear of the dark thoughts of impending doom, I instead decided to stop and smell the flowers, as it were.

  I could feel the warmth on my skin as I walked, and for the first time in over five hundred years, it was welcomed. Light bathed the world around me, exposing life every which way I looked, from wandering dogs, to chirping birds.

  People nodded at me as we passed one another. After a few observed exchanges, I began nodding in return. I might have overdone it once, according to the suddenly confused expression on a passing worker from the nearby warehouses. After that, I erred on the side of caution and made sure to move my head the precise amount as was given until a pattern was picked up.

  It felt good to be among the humans and not want to drink them. I was now their protector and saw them in a new light.

  I continued to walk, feeling lighter with each step as the tension eased.

  Within a few minutes, the surprisingly bright church came into view, and I slowed my pace as I squinted at the building.

  My eyes steadily glided over the exterior, pausing at each of the colorful stained glass windows. I had always known they were there, but the glass had been coated in a thick sheet of grime that hid the colors like a rainbow in the dark. The stone of the church had been power washed to reveal a gray that almost matched my beanie. The lighter color provided more of a reflective surface for the sun to bounce its ample rays off of, giving the building a subtle glow about it. It felt appropriate somehow, as if the church’s warm new look reflected my own heart.

  The wrought iron fence had been completely replaced with an identical, sturdy design. Portions of lime-green carpet-looking stuff covered large swathes where brown dirt used to comfortably sit, unchallenged. It took me a moment to understand that what I was looking at were sheets of grass seeds that only needed watering to take hold and cover even the most unlivable sections of earth.