From Heaven To Earth (The Faith of the Fallen) (36 page)

Drean’s aura faded on Peter’s computer screen.

He cheered. His men echoed him. The Executor’s face darkened when a red
arrow on his screen directed his attention back to the cloud of debris.

Drean’s aura had returned. It was dim but indicated he had survived.

Peter held up a hand. His men quieted. The cloud of dust cleared.

The angel’s clothes were tattered, and his hair was all but singed away.
Blisters covered his back. Blood seeped out of unseen wounds on the front of
his body and pooled around him. With ragged labored breaths he dug into the
sand, as if in search of something.

Peter saw all of this and felt a small pang of regret but only
momentarily.

“Captain, take those other two half-breeds and set up a firing squad to
dispose of them. The rest of you set up a perimeter around this area.”

“Right away, sir, sir!” Suchi said.

The men closest to Vern and Xoe picked them up and carried them some
distance away to set up the firing line.

“Mom! Mom! Wake up!” Xoe yelled. She struggled to free herself. “Let me
go!”

She concentrated the minute amount of Inner she had left and threw her
arms outward. Sand rose up and buried those that held them. Xoe grabbed her mom
and tried to drag her to her feet before the soldiers could recover.

“Suchi!” Peter yelled into his helmet.

The councilor was already on his feet. “Don’t worry, sir,” he said as he
took aim. “She’s not getting away.”

He fired a prisma beam at her legs. Xoe saw the beam coming and shielded
herself. The white-hot beam shattered her shield, and she crumpled to the
ground. Suchi flew over and collected her from the sand.

“No,” Drean said. He struggled to get up but couldn’t even begin to
stand.

Peter walked over to him and knelt down beside his face.

“Who are you? You’re no ordinary half-breed, that’s for sure.”

“I’m no half-breed,” Drean tried to lift his head to make eye contact
with the Executor.

“You’re respectful and courteous. I’ll give you that.” The Executor
roughly turned Drean over and gasped at his charred body. Pieces of bone were
visible in several places. Blood flowed freely.

“How, how are you still alive?” The Executor gathered himself. “What are
you?”

“Angel,” Drean managed.

“Ahh. The angel that everyone has been buzzing about. So, why are you
here? To lead the half-breeds to a decisive victory over us inferior humans?”
the Executor asked. “With God behind you?” Peter said with contempt.

“No,” Drean wheezed.

The Executor leaned toward him. “I will never bow down to anything that
resembles a half-breed. No demon, angel or anything in-between!”

“No, save... save,” Drean cried.

“Save? Who?” The Executor guffawed. “You’re in no position to save
anyone.”

“Save, save... save,”

High above him dark clouded the clear blue sky in seconds. It drizzled.
Cold wind buffeted the sand, lifting it into the air around them.

“Are you sure you’re an angel?” The Executor scrutinized him with every
scanner his system possessed. “You have no wings that I can see on any of these
frequencies.”

“Wings. My wings?” Drean asked.

“Yes,” Peter said. “Why don’t you have any wings?”

“Father, where are my wings?” Drean asked.

“A wingless angel.” The Executor laughed at his own joke. “Even fallen
angels have wings. What does that make you?”

“Where are my wings?” Drean asked. His voice gained strength.

Lightning struck the ground behind the perimeter of the soldiers. Peter
jumped.

What the hell?
He looked around.
Where did this weather come
from?

 
“Sir, his aura. Check it
out,” Suchi asked.

The Executor switched to his aura scanner. Drean’s aura was no longer
prismatic. It was an opaque black.

“It’s completely changed.”

“And, sir...” the councilor said, “I didn’t recognize these two until
now. But, now that I’ve sobered up... It’s Michael’s family, Peter.”

“His family?”

“Yes sir. We can’t kill them. He’ll put us away forever for this.”

The Executor glanced up at the firing line. Xoe and Vern were conscious.
Vern held her daughter, who sobbed. She looked from the men, to Drean and
finally at Peter.

She hates me so much. Good. They deserve what’s coming to them. Still
they both look so familiar.

“It can’t be them, Suchi. I would recognize them.”

“Sir, it is them. I have to advise against this.”

“Suchi. Do it. Or join them.”

“Yes sir.”

“Are you ready to watch your friends die?” Peter asked.

A low growl came from Drean’s throat. The air’s temperature dropped
drastically. Snow fell from the sky. Sand around Drean’s body froze.

“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 reached 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.

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?

As I said I have more important things to do. Tell them that, and tell
them they never should have involved Shrazz in this in the first place.

She closed her mind off, felt the exous’ summons poke at her mind’s eye,
and then they ceased.

Drean faded into view a few feet behind Grizaltus.

“You’re back. What a relief,” Riell said and met him with an embrace.

Gerald walked over to welcome Drean as well.

Drean held out a hand in the direction of Grizaltus.

“Give it to me, warlock,” Drean demanded.

Grizaltus continued his incantation.

“He’s enchanting it now...” Gerald began and sat back down on the couch.

“You mean to tell me it’s not ready yet?!” Drean fumed.

“Calm down, Drean.” Riell put her arms around him and held him tightly.
Drean’s face softened after a moment, and he returned her embrace.

“I’m glad to be back with you two,” Drean said.

“Good to see you too, Drean,” Gerald said. He nodded at him when their
eyes met. “Dark hair looks sexy on you by the way.”

“Dark hair.” Drean ran his hands through his short hair. “What happened
to me?”

“It looks good,” Riell said. “You look fine.”

“He lied so much...” Drean said. “The half-breeds weren’t protesters.
They were in a base across the street from the capitol planning some kind of
retaliation if the Executor knew too much.”

“We saw it all,” Gerald said.

“All of it?” Drean asked.

Gerald nodded. Drean wanted to apologize, but Riell put her hand over his
mouth.

“It’s over, you succeeded. That’s all that matters.” She embraced him.

“Thank you,” Drean said.

I don’t know how they can look at me in the same way... I have no idea
what happened, and I had no control over my actions when it took hold,
Drean thought.

“Yes, congratulations,” Gri said, as he turned to Drean. “Your display of
integrity, courage and intelligence has earned you this.” He presented the
medallion to him.

Drean pulled himself away from Riell and snatched it up. “I neither need
nor accept no compliments from the likes of you.” Riell sighed and patted him
on the shoulder.

“You do realize it’s my other half that was impassible in this
situation?” Gri asked. “I’m on your side.”

“I can never tell the difference between you two,” Drean said.

“He’s maniacal. I’m insane,” Gri said.

“Right,” Drean said.

“Anyhow, about the medallion,” Gri said. “It will only work twice.
Channel a small amount of Inner into it to activate it and it will open
temporary passage to the Black Crown Isle where the gates of Hell are located,
when...”

“The deal was for a gate to Hell,” Drean interrupted.

“I did what I could to aid you,” Gri replied.

“You lying...” Drean began.

“It would have taken us months to find the isle on our own, Drean. By
then we would have been out of time,” Gerald said. “We have what we need now.
It’s okay. No one blames you for what happened.”

Drean took a deep breath.

“I apologize, sir. I’ve been quick to anger lately for some reason.”

“No need for that,” Gri said with a wave of his hand. “I realize what
I’ve put you through.”

“Thank you, Grizaltus,” Drean said.

Zaltus hissed. Gri smiled and nodded his head. He sat on the couch and
turned the television back on. “As I was saying. You can only use the medallion
twice. When you’re ready to return, activate it using your Inner, and it will
bring you back to this laboratory.”

“Alright,” Drean said.

Drean channeled Inner into the medallion. A whirling vortex of clouds
formed a few feet in front of him. It expanded. Bolts of energy sprouted out of
it and scarred the ceiling and floor of the study.

“I should have mentioned for them not to use it in here.” Gri sighed.

The vortex grew higher and wider than Drean’s body, and the clouds
cleared.

Rocky desolation was before them: the wastelands of the Black Crown Isle.
Frigid, damp, dusty gusts tore through the portal and into the study. Books and
lab equipment crashed against the walls and floor. Red lightning constantly
streaked from the cloudy skies.

Drean hesitated. He turned from the portal and looked to Riell.

“I’m with you, Drean.” She took one of his hands into hers and squeezed.

“We’re with you she means,” Gerald corrected. “We’re with you all the
way, Drean.”

“Thanks again, Grizaltus!” Drean yelled over the rushing wind. They
stepped through the portal and it disappeared behind them.

“Well?” Zaltus pleaded.

“You waste no time. I’ll see you in the morning.” Gri’s eye closed, and
the face became entirely Zaltus’.

“Ahh,” he said, relieved at the absence of Gri’s consciousness. He
flipped through channels on the television with the snap of a finger. He
reached one where scantily clad succubae teachers seduced captive humans and
provided their students with in-depth explanations as to how their powers would
facilitate sexual domination.