Even Angels Fall (Book 3)

Sable

We are trying once more to recruit the last prophet. I’d like to believe we are better off without him, but the war ahead keeps my ego in check. We need everyone we can get. The village is empty but Met continues walking like he’s going for a stroll in the park, humming to himself.

Aside from Josh, we are alone. The three of us going into a violent tribe in the middle of Afica alone sounds pretty stupid and the Angels were in agreement but Met wanted to do this alone. I doubt it will matter. This guy sounds too far gone to be saved.

A sudden pulse alerts me. It’s subtle, like a barely recognized earthquake that only the birds would feel. “What was that?”

Met rotates on his foot in question. He wears the skin of a thin black man, tall and sleek in muscle. He dresses in military garb, attempting to relate to Etsay. I’ve gotten used to his body changes but I’ll always prefer the body he had on the day I first met him. “You felt that?”

Joshua questions, “Felt what?”

Met smiles warmly and nods his head, “You are the leader, Sable. I do not expect your talents to be any less. They should only grow. I placed a Net. It will stop us from being disturbed by any unwanted guests.” He continues forward, leaving me with only questions.

I’ve heard the word Net before. An Angel can expand a portion of their Light to keep out a selected group. They can choose to eliminate Angels from their circle, Fallen, or humans. But with this array of people in our group, what sort of Net can he post? How big can it be? How powerful is it?

We enter a tent and Etsay sits on the floor with a low desk placed about him. He is writing by lamp light with his gun laid out beside him. I feel the presence of his guardian Angels in the room. Their Light glitters in disarray around the room. Only one main soldier can take full form and he stands rigid behind Etsay with his hand clenched to the handle of an axe.

Etsay doesn’t acknowledge us at first, keeping his head down with a straight back. He’s a lean soldier, bred from years of leadership and war. I respect him because of how many decades he’s been fighting. I can’t imagine how much he has been through.

Guardian Angels are rare. From what I’ve learned, they sacrifice their chance at the afterlife to live with a chosen human, protecting them. But their Light cannot last and after ten or twenty years they eventually dissipate and are gone forever.

When a Soul sacrifices their Light, it directly becomes a part of that person’s Soul. Thus that person’s Light grows twice as fast. Etsay’s Soul is only a hundred and seventy, but two Souls have donated their Light. He is near three hundred and fifty in strength. Which I realize is nothing compared to the Angels in Heaven and Earth but once he becomes an Angel himself, he will be a force to be reckoned with.

I myself have two Souls in me, my parents. We will age with the same kind of velocity. It doesn’t mean much to me right now but Heinrich seemed excited for me.

To have so many Guardians, there must be something in him that I haven’t the privilege of seeing yet. I want to observe him, get to know him, and see him for what he truly is. But I can’t get past the fact that there are Scars on his Soul.

I’m not a good man. I’ve done things that I’m not proud of. I can understand being subjected to a life that doesn’t suit you and becoming a product of your surroundings. I am guilty of that. But we all make choices. My sins, though plenty, can be washed away with enough goodwill and charity. Etsay’s Scars, however, are there forever.

Finally placing his pen down, Etsay lifts his head. “Weren’t we finished?” The way he dismisses Met so quickly aggravates me.

I may be a Prophet, but I’m also a New Yorker. “Show some respect.”

Etsay smiles, baring his white teeth. “Same goes for you, boy.” His guardian Souls rustle in agitation, stirring the air around us.

Met cares little for the theatrics. “May I ask you a question? How many humans have you killed?”

The grin upon his lips falters a fraction and his eyes roll to Met as if in boredom. “I don’t know.”

“Five hundred and twenty four.”

Etsay’s eyes shut and I see now what I should have seen before. Etsay hides his pain well but it is there and it is brighter than the strength of his Soul. He has learned to shield it behind walls of anger or distrust.

I must learn to see as Met sees. Without judgment.

Met continues, “Do you know how many of them were Possessed by a Demon?”

Etsay snaps his gaze up wildly. Hope, salvation, redemption; so many emotions spread over his features erasing the cold and bitterness that had chiseled his face. He leans on his desk, as if grasping out for the answer that Met is holding back from him.

“None.”

I witness the collapse of despair and he reverts to the ground like gravity sucked him to the Earth. He throws the desk from his lap and gets to his feet, “Get out.”

His entourage of Souls feed off his temper and wreak havoc on our surroundings. They twist and groan through the makeshift shelving. The stronger ones grab whatever they can and hurl items in our direction. Josh and I duck and dive as knives fly at us from angry ghosts. A bookcase crashes and though it seems fruitless hiding from spirits that can pass through any object, we use this as cover.

I look at Met, hoping he isn’t hurt in all this chaos. To my wonderment, he stands firm in the center of the room. Only his clothes seem disrupted by the atmosphere. Thrown objects lay at his feet as if missing their target by mere inches.

I look down at Joshua and find him curled in a tight ball, terrified, trembling with eyes squeezed shut. This is the most violence he has seen in his young life. Josh isn’t made for something like this. He’s too kind of a person for violence and mayhem.

Strengthened by my need to protect him, I snatch at a club not far from my fingers. I’ve fought less than a few times in my life and those times had been against Priests that had pretended to be men of God and had instead been disgusting bigots. They had been tainted and in my eyes, Etsay is tainted. Whatever good that is in him is hidden by the scars that damage his Soul. I will fight against him if I must.

I dive beneath a flying spirit and run low along the outskirts of the tent. Etsay has his eyes on Met. He believes I am not a threat. I will make him realize his mistake soon enough.

I jump over the tossed desk and jump at him with my raised weapon. It is here, I fling backward and drop so heavily upon the writing table, it cracks under my weight and the wind knocks from my lungs. Coughing and gasping for air, I roll to my side. I see his strongest guardian before him.

“Pakel.” Etsay names him.

The Soul, that by all rights should be awarded Angel status. Six-foot-tall he stands, a thick warrior with bulging muscle. He wears a simple clothe over his privates and beads hang from his neck. He has an ax in his left hand and he stares down at me with transparent eyes.

“Do you know his story?” Etsay questions, “No, I’m sure you don’t.”

Pakel adjusts his ax over his shoulder and turns his attention to Met, preparing to swing. In my fright I rush out, screaming, trying to get there in time but Etsay’s other Souls all swirl around me, a gush of gravity shoving me back.

I watch helplessly but Met is reposed as the ax swings down on him. It thumps against his forehead and bounces off, flinging a shocked and bewildered Pakel back a few steps.

Met smiles warmly. “Arch Remeil.” He waits for a moment. “Will you guide these faithful servants to Heaven, please?”

Confusion sweeps over the Souls in the room and the reigning chaos quiets, waiting. I watch Pakel’s face, the only face I can make out among the lot. He is listening to a distant voice, one that isn’t for my ears. It soothes the anger, it quells their tempers, and soon, I notice the Lights begin to fade, one by one.

Etsay panics, “No. No, you’re not supposed to leave me. You owe me!”

Met interrupts his desperate plea. “They owe you nothing. You know that as well as I. You have come to rely on them because humans tend to die so easily here. Every friend you have made has been murdered or taken away. For forty-one years, you have lived in this heartbreak. You have cheated death a hundred times because of your destiny and the Souls that have sacrificed their lives for you. Immortality is not as wonderful as it seems, though, is it?” Met stalls for a moment. “I understand.”

“Do you?” He turns to Pakel. His last remaining Soul. Pakel holds his ax tight, a silent response to let his partner know he remains loyal. Etsay nods appreciatively. His next words are directed to us. “You want me to join a war that has not yet started.” He pulls a map down from the top of the tent. It’s of Africa. “What about this war? Explain to me, Angel, why, with one billion people on this continent, with disease, famine, poverty, and constant hostility between territories that have children and families living in constant fear, why are there only a thousand Angels amongst them. And these Angels live in the grandest hotels and stay far from where they are needed most? Explain this to me.”

“The system is flawed, Etsay. You already know that. Angels have grown comfortable with their luxuries. But if you wish to change it then become something greater than what you already are. Have a voice in our world and bring our attention to where it belongs.”

“Pakel wandered for a century.” Etsay continues. “He couldn’t leave his comrades behind on a battlefield that had long since been covered by weeds. For a hundred years, no Angel came for him. Do you know how many Souls with similar stories I find here, Angel? How they wander, lost in pain and suffering, simply waiting for someone to lead them to Heaven’s door?” I shudder when I hear the weakness in his voice. Etsay’ eyes glisten with tears that he won’t let fall. “Can you possibly imagine the number?”

Met allows a moment of silence for the grief Etsay feels. It’s hard not to reciprocate it. Everyday leaving your tent to find more drifting Souls searching for Heaven and having no one there to direct them, it would be hard to comprehend.

“This number will only increase if the Darkness prevails.” Met tells him, “Death and destruction will conquer the world and everything that you have done to help will be thrown aside. I will not forget this place, Etsay. And you will not forget this place. You think that fighting against Lucius will make you lose sight of the importance here.”

“Won’t it?” He hardens, judgment and arrogance gritting his teeth. “You Angels have completely forgotten us.”

“Is this the Fallen talking?” I bite, getting to my feet. “He got to you good. You do know that they have very persuasive abilities. They can make you believe in anything.”

“I wasn’t tricked. I don’t need to be tricked into seeing what is right before my eyes. You say death and destruction will be everywhere. It is already everywhere! You want me to abandon them. Like others before them. There have been Angels. They promise to return and then they never do. Screw your godly world. You know nothing of Darkness but perhaps it’s about time you found out.”“Listen to yourself!” I snap back. “You are a Prophet of God! You can deny it all you want but it is who you are. We have all suffered and we have all overcome. I promise you, we will fix this world together.”

Etsay looks down on me, “Tell me, American. How much death have you seen?” He directs his attention to Joshua, “Or the kid cowering in the corner. Have you ever had to fight for a single moment for your pathetic life?”

My fist lands across his cheek so quickly not even his guardian had time to react. I stand before him, panting through my nose, glaring with a rage I have only felt a few times in my life. He’s shocked beyond belief and I wonder when was the last time he had ever felt a human touch. “I’m sick of you. Your judgments and your opinions are pissing me off and I’m sick of them. You ever think that the reason you were put here was for the very reason you’re complaining about? You are their savior. You are their hope. No one is saving them because you are the one that’s doing it!” Pakel comes around so suddenly with a swing of his axe I only have time to put up my hand up to stop him.

A moment passes before I allow a single eye to open. Met holds the blade between his fingers, easily and sturdily. The transparency of the item is solid in his hold and Pakel’s mouth is wide in surprise. “It’s time for you to go, Pakel.” Met whispers to him. “Your services are needed in Heaven.”

Communication is happening again within his mind. Pakel closes his eyes and listens to a voice that none of us can hear. He turns suddenly to Etsay but he hasn’t recovered from the punch I have given him, holding his cheek. He lingers only a moment before his Soul too evaporates.

Met steps up to the left of Etsay.

His eyes lift over to him and shaking and bare, he asks, “Why are you fighting for me, Angel? I have killed too many.”

“You may believe all you like you are unworthy but God has chosen you and for that I fight.” Met rests a hand upon his shoulder, gentle and soft. “Tell me of your plight. I will listen to your woes. Together we will fix the world.” I watch them go off with one another and I stand here in the ruins of the tent, overcome with certainty. Isn’t that weird? The six Prophets left to save the human race are an odd bunch of people. We are in no way pure-hearted or the exact definition of good or wholesome. We all have some horrid past. We all have overcome. Despite that, I wouldn’t think of us as God’s chosen. We are ordinary. There are hundred of thousands that live terrible lives and continue to persevere. It’s hard to understand what exactly about us makes us special but perhaps it’s not about being Chosen. It’s about rising to the occasion.

Who would take on the responsibility of saving humanity?

I shuffle through the debris and find Josh rubbing his face clear of any suspecting tears. I pretend to ignore it. “You hurt?” I ask casually.

“Nope. You?”

“My butt.” He cracks a smile thankfully but it fades slowly. “Who knew a ghost can pack a punch? Come on. Think they got any food around here? Real food? Like a burger or hot dog? I could really go for a hot dog with relish and onions.” My mouth waters thinking about it.

We arrive back at the camp without Met and Etsay. They have gone off on their own. I’m sure Etsay needs to find the rest of his Soul and he can do that without us. In the meantime, I need to let go of my prejudices against his attitude. He has judgments against me and I have them against him. But I’m knowledgeable about our situation, I need to be the bigger man and let it go.

With a full belly, a soft bed, and a fan blowing on me, I find sleep is inevitable. Sweat builds on my brow nonetheless but I deal and curl up, sleeping within moments.

I should figure I would be interrupted. Josh nudges me, “Wake up, something’s happening.” I’m on my feet instantly and we are out the door. The Angels are in a panic, looking around, whispering to each other. They form a circle around someone and I nudge my way to the center with Josh on my heels.

I hear their voice steadily though. “It’s the truth. His blood was on the cement.” An Angel speaks in hysterics. He runs his hands through his hair. I don’t know where he’s from but his robes are black with an odd symbol on its breast. It’s the Ruling. “I need to speak to his majesty Metatron, where is he?”

I step forward, “He is busy. What can I do for you?”

His gaze flickers over me with contempt, “What can a Seer do for me?” The outrage from his Angel counterparts quickly alerts him that he judged wrong and upon the word of ‘Prophet’ his eyes widen drastically and he hurries to my feet, bowing upon his knees. “Forgive me, my lord. I didn’t know.” He keeps his head bowed, not waiting for a reply. “Dion has been killed, sire. The Sins ripped him to pieces. It was a fierce battle that tore apart South London. Two Angels were killed and Shini Vaul and a Newborn Angel have been taken to the Ruling for medical treatment for life threatening wounds. We have currently locked down the area and are searching for any witnesses.”

This should mean something to me. I should know more about the Undead and its terms. Heinrich hasn’t taught me enough and at this moment, I feel like an outsider. I need to be a part of them. They are looking at me now because they have already accepted me. How can I be so ignorant?

I stand strong. I cannot let them know how senseless I am. They look to me for guidance and I need to give them that. Isn’t that my job? “War is coming. The signs are here. It is time to make your decision. Will you fight with us, your human brethren and join the army in Fort Dix, or will you head to Heaven? Either or, no one will judge you. Not me. Not Metatron. And certainly not God. But you must make your choice.”

Inside the tent, I am far from calm. I pace and play with my piercing. How am I going to tell Met that Dion is dead? Why must this fall to me? I don’t want to hurt him. He loves that man, who seems so angry at the world. I don’t do well with grief. I usually do everything I can to avoid it. I was so rude to Dion. I made such a bad impression. Now I won’t be able to make it right.

I feel Met. It’s an odd awareness but I turn to the entrance before he steps inside. He smiles brightly and behind him, an Angel holds an unconscious Etsay. He points to a cot and the man gently lays him down, “Thank you, Albert.” Met pats him on the back as he exits. He takes a seat at the table, sighing out, “Well, what an eventful afternoon.”

“Met.” I murmur lightly sitting down across from him.

I fold my fingers in front of my mouth. I don’t need to say it. He can read my mind. His smile slowly fades as he stares at me. “Met, I’m sorry.”

I’m sure at this moment he’s shifting through my memories then to the memories of others to witness the event himself. When his eyes widen, I know he’s found it. His head shakes, “There’s been a misunderstanding.” He begins.

I reach out, “Dion fought the Sins, Met--”

“Yes and Dion is a superlative combatant. Wrath and Sloth are nil to his aptitudes. This information is false and as such I do not believe it.” He stands up.

“Where are you going?”

Met moves for the door, “I’m going to find Dion, of course.”

“You can’t leave us.” I shout in panic. He stops instantly and his hands curl. This is the first time I notice anything human about him. There is a Soul inside him. I hadn’t thought he was real for so long but this proves it, this moment of weakness. Met has fallacies. They are just buried under thousands of years.

Slowly, and with much difficulty, Met rotates and meets my gaze with a false smile and bright eyes. “Yes, you are correct. Forgive me.”

“Will you sit down?” I ask him, hoping to gain some semblance of normalcy back between us. He’s hesitant but eventually takes his seat. He stares at the table, strong and tight, unwilling to allow any emotion to weave across his face. I glance back at Joshua who sits on the cot, uneasily and quietly. I clear my throat. “You’ve known Dion a long time.”

Met chuckles adoringly. “I am not so fragile a creature, Sable. You needn’t worry about me.”

Yet he drifts off and I ‘worry’ nonetheless. “Dion was a good man?”

“The best.” He breathes in sharply, bringing his gaze upon me with a bright happiness. “He was a soldier in every life. Meant to battle with every fiber of his being. Heaven was a bore, you see, to a being like him.” He chuckles, imagining a life I can never witness. “What happened after they Fell, well, I’m sure it was a terrible and regrettable situation at the time. To come from Heaven that is a calming and pleasant atmosphere to a deathtrap of carnivorous Light eaters, it certainly affected many. But not Dion. He loved it. He embraced it. But time, so much time in the Darkness can even change the strongest of us.”

Joshua whispers, “You warned him, Met.

“Dion believed I wasn’t aware of the Darkness. The Darkness has power that cannot be touched or stopped or thwarted. It is forever powerful, I know this. I simply wanted them to live happy. To live for the love that they deserve. And if that made them ignorant to tragedy, I would continue to encourage them to look the other way. What parent wants their children to see evil? To hurt? To know unkindness of any sort?”

“You can’t save them from something like that.”

Met licks his lips. His eyes redden and I look away, swallowing. Seeing a man like him given in to tears is overwhelming even for me.

“I asked Lucius to stay.” He admits softly. “I met Nature once when I was a young boy and I could not fathom living in a world that knows no mercy. Lucius couldn’t understand my fear. He held me in his last goodbye and told me how he would save the world. That was all they really wanted. To protect us. But time has taken so much from them. More so from Lucius. Now he means to destroy it. He has spent much too long from his father’s side. The boy I raised has drifted too far from shore and wades in deep waters. I cannot swim fast enough. He drowns and I fear those closest to him will not reach out a helping hand to save him. Just like, they did not save Dion. What world have I entered? Why am I so powerless?”

I swallow feeling my throat constrict. “You’re the Chancellor of Heaven, Second only to God. What can’t you do?”

“So much.” His watery blue eyes rest on me. A big smile spreads on his lips, “But not you. You, my boy, can do everything I cannot.”