Fallen (9 page)

“I cannot be sure. However, the boy appears
to have no knowledge. His efforts against the doll were
reactionary. He fainted straightaway.”

Mr. Black grinned slightly beneath the brim
of his top hat. “Still, he must possess some measure of power to
attack the doll to such a degree. How was it done?”

“As I mentioned, my lord, the boy was
frightened and reacted instinctively. He shattered the nearby
windows on the street and incinerated the doll when it reacted to
his discovery.”

Mr. Black turned. “Incinerated? No average
gift.”

“I thought you would find it intriguing, my
lord,” Sinister said.

“Bring him to my estate tomorrow evening,”
Mr. Black said. “I’ll send a carriage.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And do bring Tom as well, Sinister,” Mr.
Black said. “I’m sure he must be the boy who became
entangled
with this one. I’m certain if you left him behind
he would only wander onto my estate snooping anyway. I would hate
to be forced to destroy him before his usefulness has been
expired.”

Mr. Sinister cringed slightly. “Yes, my
lord.”

He stepped away from his master and off of
the parapet, plummeting toward the chilly waters of the Thames
below. His cape billowed in the wind, becoming a broad pair of
wings as the rest of Sinister’s human form was again absorbed by
that of a raven in flight. Mr. Black remained upon the unfinished
parapet as rigid as a gargoyle, looking out over the city he had
claimed long ago for his own.

I woke to cool water splashing my face. I
reacted as most would by shooting out of unconsciousness as fast as
possible, spluttering and spitting. Tom stood before me holding the
wash pale, now empty, with a wicked grin upon his face.

“Have a nice nap?” he asked innocently.

My last memory of the evil man-sized doll,
came to me, forcing me to scramble from the table top where I had
been lying.

“Where is it?” I asked, spitting the last
remnants of that morning’s used wash water in the process.

Tom lowered the bucket, placing his other
hand on his hip. “Where’s what?”

“That thing…the bag of stuffing that tried
to kill me on the street today!” I said, managing to stir myself
nearly back into the state of panic I had been in when I passed out
on the street.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,”
Tom said.

I looked at him incredulously. “Don’t lie
about it,” I demanded. “I know what I saw. It was the same as the
ones those women downstairs are sewing together…only alive!”

“Like I said, greenie, you have this
annoying habit of asking too many questions,” he warned. “You’ve
already gotten us into enough trouble as it is. There are things
happening that you just wouldn’t understand.”

I gave him my best sardonic glare. “Try
me.”

The room was mostly dark except for the
lantern sitting upon the table next to us. The other boys were in
the next room, apparently asleep for the night. Tom leaned in
conspiratorially. “There’s a war going on, Brody,” he said.

I began to run down the different conflicts
I had heard about in my head. Tom cut me off.

“Not a human war, but one among the Fallen,”
he said.

“You mentioned them before,” I replied. “Who
are the Fallen?”

“It’s difficult to explain, really,” he
said. “Not-quite-humans would be a way to look at it. Fae, like
me.”

“You?”

“And many others
not
like me,” he
explained.

“Like Sinister?” I pushed.

“Perhaps,” Sinister said, coalescing from
the shadows upon the wall behind Tom.

I nearly leaped out of my skin at the sight
of him suddenly standing in the room with us. His eyes had a feral
glint, like a wolf closing upon his prey. The rest of him, dressed
in his tattered, black clothing seemed to melt into the
darkness.

Tom had not turned around, but closed his
eyes, gritting his teeth. He didn’t speak, waiting to be addressed,
having been caught in some transgression only they two
understood.

“Cat got your tongue, Tom?” Mr. Sinister
asked. “Why don’t you go on?”

“I’m feeling a bit tired at the moment,” he
said. “I should put Brody to bed. He’s had a busy afternoon.”

Sinister’s eyes never left mine. “Indeed.
Perhaps, Brody would like to explain how he managed to destroy the
rag doll he saw on the street today.”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “I was trying to get
away from it. That thing attacked me.”

“Defensive posturing only, I’m sure,”
Sinister said. “They aren’t made to attack people.”

“What
are
they made for?” I
enquired.

Sinister paused before providing anything
further. His eyes narrowed to slits. “The war dear Tom mentioned,”
he said.

“I don’t understand.”

Sinister brightened. “I didn’t expect that
you would. Nevertheless, you have been granted the honor of meeting
someone very important. Our benefactor, Mr. Black, has invited you
to dinner at his estate tomorrow evening. Tom will attend with
you.”

Tom’s eyes darted to me anxiously. He didn’t
like what we were being told, but he said nothing. Still, there was
an unsaid warning in his eyes. I wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Do I have a choice?”

Mr. Sinister grinned. “None at all.”

My sleep, again, was fitful at best, though
I cannot remember my dreams that night as I had others. Still,
something didn’t feel right, as though some invader had spent the
predawn hours probing my subconscious mind for information and then
left without leaving any prints by which the intruder might be
identified. I had no idea what the day would bring, let alone the
evening with this Mr. Black. However, Tom and I did not venture out
at all with the other boys residing under Mr. Sinister’s care.

Sinister was nowhere to be found when I
awoke that morning. Tom was sitting by the hearth, prodding a
skillet full of sausages and bits of ham. He didn’t look up when I
walked into the room to find everyone already gone.

“Morning,” I said half-heartedly.

Tom simply grunted. Clearly, he wasn’t
pleased by the situation we were both in. I wasn’t sure if I should
broach the subject of our evening just yet.

“Is anyone else here?” I asked.

Tom stopped prodding the sausages in order
to remove the skillet with a thick rag. He tossed the pan onto the
long table. “Sinister’s gone, if that’s what you want to know.”

I let out the breath I had been holding. My
relief was palpable. But that didn’t mean I was out of danger by
any means.

I walked over to the table and picked up two
sausages from the pan. They were still good and hot, so I blew on
them for a moment, trying not to burn my fingers. “Are we going out
today?” I asked.

“Confined to quarters,” Tom said. “Sinister
don’t want us wandering off before our dinner date with Mr. Black.
Boy, you really did me a favor didn’t ya?”

“I didn’t mean to get you into trouble,
Tom,” I said. “I don’t even know what happened yesterday.”

Tom grunted again. “No control, asks all
kinds of questions. Now we’re really in for it,” he complained.

“What did happen?” I asked. “And who is Mr.
Black?”

“Well,” he said, seeming to settle in for a
good explanation, “apparently, you not only have the Sight, but you
have some measure of power as well.”

“Power?”

“Some call it
magic
, but that’s not
quite accurate, strictly speaking,” he said. “We’re descended from
the Fallen. They have great power, so we also have some of those
same abilities. It varies, of course, depending upon your heritage
and all. Pretty complicated really.”

“The Fallen? You keep saying that, but what
does it mean.”

“Angels, mate,” he said darkly. “Now, do you
see the mess we’re in?”

A sense of foreboding was creeping up my
spine, but I still shook my head.

“We are descended from fallen angels, all of
us Fae; though we’re known by different names to different people.
Some of us are like Sinister who runs the Breed in London. Others
are called by different names: elves, dwarves, goblins, werewolves
and such. But all of us came from various fallen angels
cohabitating with humans.”

A touch of familiarity at that. “Do you have
a Bible here? I’ve lost mine with all that’s happened.”

“The Book? Are you kidding? Haven’t you
figured out where you are yet?”

I honestly had
not
quite figured out
where I was yet.

“Are you sure?” I begged.

“Wait a minute,” Tom said, thoughtful.
“Ratty Pete…I think he has one stashed somewhere under his bunk,
maybe.”

Tom dashed across the room to one of the
bunks and tore away the hay sack mattress, revealing the flat board
beneath. He lifted this as well, scrounging beneath it. He latched
on to something blindly then brought it out where I could see.

“A Bible!” I shouted.

“Hush!” he hissed. “Do you want to bring
Sinister back? I sure wouldn’t want him to find the Book in our
dwelling. He’d have a fit for sure.”

“Let me have it,” I demanded, snatching the
tattered King James from his hands.

I flipped, arriving at Genesis chapter six.
“Oh,” I said.

“What is it?” Tom asked, looking over my
shoulder. “Who are the Sons of God?”

“That must be who the Fallen are…angels that
sinned against the Lord by taking human women for their wives to
have children by them.”

“Giants?” he noticed. “Yeah, that makes
sense.”

“There are real giants among your kind?” I
asked.

“They’re not
my
kind, but they do
exist. They just don’t usually show themselves out in the mortal
world. Too conspicuous.”

“What kind are you?” I asked, noticing his
ears again. “An elf maybe?”

“Well, that’s where the myths come in, don’t
they?” he said. “We usually go by Fae as a general term, or the
People.”

“Are there many of your kind?”

“Not so many as mortals, of course, but
many,” he confirmed. “Not that mortals would know it. We see to our
secrecy well. Still, some mortals have the Sight and see us for
what we are. But you’re a curious one.”

“What do you mean?”

“I wonder who you came from,” he said.

I considered the matter a moment, while Tom
stared at me curiously.

“Tell me about your parents, Brody,” he
said, grinning.

“Now, wait a minute,” I said. “My parents
were as mortal as they come, Tom. There’s no way I could be
descended from the Fallen.”

He considered it, scrutinizing me. “Yeah,
you’re right religious too…that wouldn’t fit.”

“Just because I’ve put my faith in God?” I
asked. “Don’t any of you believe?”

“Believe he exists? Of course,” Tom
confirmed. “After all, I couldn’t be descended from the Fallen if
it was all hogwash, now could I? But that ain’t the same thing is
it?”

“No,” I replied. “My faith is a trust, not
simply knowledge of God’s existence. The Bible states that even the
devils believe that God exists. I suppose they would have that
knowledge even more than men.”

Tom folded his arms. “See?” he said. “And
there ain’t none of them that have been offered any saving. So why
should I be any different coming from them?”

“But doesn’t it concern you?” I asked.

“That’s why there’s a war going on, mate,”
Tom said. “And you’ve managed to stumble right into the middle of
it.”

Tom and I spent the rest of the afternoon
without speaking much to each other. He seemed more than a little
bitter about the reproach his people had been shown due to their
heritage. He was without hope. I couldn’t imagine what that would
be like.

Descended from fallen angels. What a
terrible situation to be born to. I felt very bad for Tom. But then
he was so resigned to his fate and angry too. The suggestion that I
might also be related to the Fallen, because of my ability to see
him as he was, had shocked me completely. Sure, I had managed to
destroy that sickening doll creature, but it was purely accidental.
For all I knew, the thing had simply malfunctioned in some way;
gone haywire and exploded. I didn’t know, or want to know.

If there was one thing I was sure of, it was
the fact that my parents were completely normal. My mother had died
when I was very young. Some kind of unknown disease had caused her
to waste away before my father’s eyes over the course of my first
year. He had described it to me only once, when I was
ten-years-old. The details were chilling.

My father was a pastor and had been since
before I was born. He had never described any strange creatures,
like the ones I was witnessing recently, nor had he shown any sort
of magical abilities at all. At least that’s how I would have
described these things that Tom could do. I had no other word for
it at the time. No matter what suspicions Tom might have had about
my heritage being similar to his, he had to be wrong.

By the time the other boys arrived back in
Sinister’s tenement lair, I was left in the wash room by myself
sulking while Tom handled business in the outer room with the
others. I sat upon a bench that lined up against the far wall,
waiting for the inevitable dinner date with one Mr. Black. I still
had no idea how he fit into all of this, but if he was Sinister’s
benefactor then he was calling the shots.

Within an hour of the boys arriving, I felt
a chill creeping up my spine. The room seemed somehow not quite
right. I realized this was the same feeling I had experienced when
first meeting Mr. Sinister. Sure enough, he came around the corner
through the doorway a moment later.

“It’s time, Brody,” Mr. Sinister said, his
voice as icy as ever.