Aerie

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Gabriel was feeling sad.

No matter how hard he tried, with pleasant thoughts of delicious things to eat, chasing after balls, and long naps in warm patches of sunshine, the dog could not shake the unhappy state of mind. How he wished the human idea that animals didn’t experience emotion was not just a myth.

As he trotted beside Aaron down the center of an Aerie street, Gabriel thought of the long and difficult night they had just passed. Neither had slept much as they watched over Vilma and shared the pain of Camael’s passing. The dog gazed up at his friend, studying the young man’s face in the early morning light. His expression was intense, determined, but Gabriel could sense the pain that hovered just beneath the surface.

Their lives had suddenly become so hard. Gabriel thought longingly of days—Could it have only been just weeks ago? — spent going for long walks, licking cookie crumbs from Stevie’s face, cuddling with the Stanleys as they rubbed his belly.

The sound of a door slamming roused the Lab from his reflection, and he turned his blocky head to see another of Aerie’s citizens leaving his home to join the crowd already on their way to the gathering.

Gabriel felt his hackles begin to rise. Verchiel was coming and he would probably be bringing Stevie along with him. He was no longer the little boy Gabriel so fondly remembered, but something that filled him with fear. Images of his battle with the armored monster at the school gym flooded his thoughts. It hadn’t taken more than a moment for him to realize who he was facing; the scent of the boy—of Stevie—was there in the form of the one called Malak, but the smell was wrong. It had been changed, made foul. Last night Gabriel had struggled with a way in which to express to his master what his senses perceived, but Aaron already knew that Stevie had become Malak. Although Gabriel couldn’t understand exactly what had happened to Stevie, he shared Aaron’s deep shock at the little boy’s transformation.

A sudden, nagging question formed in the Lab’s mind and he stopped walking, waiting for Aaron to notice that he was no longer at his side. Finally Aaron turned.

“What’s up?” the boy asked him.

Gabriel shook his head sadly, his golden brown ears flopping around his long face. “Stevie’s been poisoned. It’s like this place,” he said. “It was nice before, but something bad has happened to it. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

Aaron walked back and laid a gentle hand on the dog’s head. “I get it,” he said.

Citizens passed on their way to the meeting place, but the two friends paid them no mind.

Gabriel licked Aaron’s hand, then looked nervously into his eyes. “It’s Stevie, but it’s not. His smell is all wrong.”

Aaron nodded quickly. “I understand,” he said, a troubled expression on his face as he turned to join the others heading toward the church at the end of the street. “C’mon, we better get going.”

Gabriel followed at his side, struggling with the dark question he did not want to ask. But it was one he knew that Aaron had to confront. “What will you do if he tries to kill you again, Aaron?” Gabriel asked gently.

Aaron did not answer, choosing to remain silent, but the expression upon his master’s face told Gabriel everything he needed to know, and it just made the dog all the sadder.

Lehash stood nervously in Aerie’s old church, where he had never stood before, attempting to communicate with a higher being he had not wanted to speak with for many a millennium.

He studied the crude picture of the savior painted on the altar wall. The child did not look like Aaron Corbet, with its bald head and bulging white eyes, but there was no doubt in the angel’s mind of the boy’s true identity. He had witnessed Aaron’s power with his own eyes, and had been forever changed by it.

Lehash turned the Stetson nervously in his hands. “I… I don’t know what to say,” he stammered, his voice like sandpaper rubbing on wood. “I never imagined the day that I would speak to You again—never mind want to speak to You.”

The fallen angel didn’t care for what he heard in his voice: It sounded weak, scared, but at the moment, that was exactly what he was. “I never imagined You to have so much mercy,” he said to the silence of the church. “To pardon what we did.”

Lehash chuckled, looking about the room, then at the hat in his hands. “I used to feel sorry for the others—that they actually believed that You were going to forgive us. So many times I wanted to grab them by the shoulders and give ‘em a good shake. Don’t you remember what we did? I wanted to scream at them. But I kept my mouth shut.”

Lehash slowly dropped to his knees and focused his gaze on the painting above the altar. “But I was wrong,” he said, his voice filled with a sudden strength. “All these years here and I still don’t know anything more than when I decided to join up with the Morningstar.”

The fallen angel bowed his head and summoned forth wings that had not unfurled since his fall from Heaven. It was painful at first and he gritted his teeth as the atrophied appendages gradually emerged.

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry for what I did in the past and what I’m going to do—and if I should die in battle today, I hope You can find it in Your heart to forgive me.”

He had summoned forth his guns of gold and crossed them over his chest, spreading his wings as wide as he could. “But if not, I understand, ‘cause for what I intend to do to Verchiel and his lapdogs, I wouldn’t let me back into Heaven either.”

The church door opened behind him and he quickly stood, wishing away the wings that had not touched the sky since his descent. “I said I didn’t want to be disturbed,” he barked, before realizing that it was Belphegor striding down the center aisle toward him. “Oh, sorry,” Lehash said quickly as he reached for his hat that had dropped to the floor.

“Quite all right,” Belphegor said, looking at the altar painting. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

The constable thought for a moment. He had no idea if the Creator had been listening, but for the first time in longer than he could remember, he felt a certain sense of hope. “Y’know, I think I might have,” he finally answered as he slipped the black Stetson down upon his head.

“That’s good,” Belphegor replied, and said no more.

And the two of them walked together toward the exit, and the gathering that awaited them beyond it.

Lorelei studied her reflection in the cracked, full-length mirror hanging on the back of her closet door. The vertical break in the reflective surface split the image of her, the two sides slightly out of sync with each other. She’d always thought about replacing it, but never seemed to have the time. She found the duality of the reflection depicted there strangely accurate, for since the emergence of her other half, the Nephilim side, struggle had been a constant in her life.

Lorelei ran a brush through her long, snow-white hair and wondered why she was bothering. Have to look good for the slaughter, I guess, she thought sardonically. Since arriving in Aerie she had known this day would come, the day that the Powers would try to kill them all. She shuddered, racked by a sudden chill of unease. She had seen what Verchiel and his kind were capable of, and the thought of facing them in battle filled her with dread.

She tossed her brush onto the bed and looked upon her trembling hands. Lorelei was afraid of what was to come. Part of her—some primitive, selfish part—wanted to run, to hide, but that side cared nothing for the future, for destiny. All that it concerned itself with was its continued survival. Taking some deep breaths, she attempted to calm the scared, animal side—the human nature—a single thought running through her head. I am Nephilim and I have a destiny to fulfill.

Lorelei grabbed her jacket from the bed and slipped it on, flipping out the snow-white hair from beneath her collar. “So what do you think?” she asked her cracked reflection as she adjusted the coat’s fit. “Do you think he’s really the One?” She had no idea, and doubted that the image looking back at her was any more knowledgeable. What she did know was that Aaron was something very special, and that was exactly what Aerie needed to survive this day. She only hoped that she would be strong enough to help him.

Leaving her bedroom, on the way to the gathering, she stopped in the living room to check on her patient. Lorelei sat on the couch next to the still-sleeping Vilma, and carefully checked beneath the bandage on her stomach. She was pleased; Verchiel had hurt the girl badly, but it looked like she was going to be all right, although she still had to survive the process of becoming a Nephilim.

Gently Lorelei placed her hand against the girl’s perspiring brow, and Vilma’s large, dark eyes suddenly opened. Her gaze darted about the room, then focused on Lorelei.

“I’m safe?” she asked groggily.

“Yes, you are,” Lorelei answered in a soothing voice. “No one will hurt you anymore.” She hoped that she was telling the truth, remembering the battle still to come.

A smile spread across the young woman’s face. “He saved me,” she said, obviously talking of Aaron, and Lorelei took strength from the moment.

“I think he’s going to save us all,” she told Vilma, suddenly confident that they would live to see tomorrow.

Aaron and Gabriel approached the crowd gathered before the Church of Aerie.

“It looks like everyone is here,” Gabriel said as he looked around at the waiting crowd.

There was a nervous tension in the air as fallen angels and Nephilim stood side by side, the first generation of heavenly beings rubbing elbows with the next. For the first time Aaron truly understood what Aerie was all about. It was about change, for the Nephilim would be what remained upon Earth after the fallen angels were finally forgiven and allowed to return to Heaven. A changing of the guard, Aaron thought.

The crowd started to notice his arrival and stepped back, bowing their heads in respect, opening a path for him to the steps of the church.

“That’s very nice of them,” Gabriel commented as they walked past the citizens.

Some of those gathered gingerly reached out and touched his arms, his shoulders and back, barely audible words of thanks leaving their mouths. He wanted to tell them to stop. He wanted to tell them that he had done nothing that they should be thanking him for—in fact, they should be chewing his head off for drawing Verchiel’s attention to Aerie’s location.

A murmur passed through the crowd, and Aaron saw that Belphegor and Lehash had come out of the building and now waited for him at the top of the church steps.

This is it, he thought, starting his ascent.

“I’ll wait for you down here,” Gabriel said with a wag of his tail.

As he reached the top of the stairs, the two fallen angels bowed their heads as well. “Don’t do that,” he told them uncomfortably.

“Just showin’ the proper respect,” Lehash said as he clasped his hands in front of himself.

Belphegor placed a firm hand upon his shoulder and looked into Aaron’s eyes. “They know what is coming,” he said, nodding toward the crowd gathered below them. “But they need to hear it from you—they need to know your intentions.”

Aaron could feel their eyes upon him, the intensity of their gazes boring into his back. “Wouldn’t it be better if you talked to them?” he suggested. “They trust you.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, boy,” Lehash told him. “They know the real thing when they see it. It’s you they’ve been waitin’ for.”

Aaron looked back to Belphegor, hoping the old angel would help him out. He’d never been comfortable with public speaking.

“The citizens are waiting.” was all Belphegor said as he stepped back.

And Aaron knew there was only one thing left for him to do. Slowly he turned to face the throng and his breath was taken away by the sight of them; every eye fixed upon him, every ear attuned, waiting for what he was about to say. His mind went blank and all he could do was to return their stare. Who am I kidding? he asked himself, sheer panic setting in. They were insane to be depending on him. He wasn’t a savior; he couldn’t even help his family or his friends.

He looked into the crowd and saw Gabriel staring up at him from the throng, the gaze of his dark brown eyes touching Aaron’s, helping to bring a sense of calm to him. Farther back he noticed a distinct head of beautiful, white hair, and Lorelei giving him the thumbs-up.

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” Aaron said, his voice tenuous as the words began to spill from his mouth. “Some of you believe that I’m a savior, someone who’s come to save the day.” Aaron paused, looking out over the citizens of Aerie. “Am I the Chosen One?” he asked, feeling strength come into his words as he spoke from his heart. “I don’t really know. But I do know that I have a power—a power that seems to set me apart from everyone else. And we’ll never get to know what I am and what I’m capable of, if Verchiel has anything to say about it.”

A rumbling murmur went up from the crowd and Aaron could only imagine the fear that many of them had lived with during their lives, dreading the day when the leader of the Powers host would turn his attention to them, and the place of peace that they had built for themselves.

“This morning I’m asking you to fight,” Aaron told them. “To fight for your future—for your redemption, and your right to go home.” He tried to look each in the eye. “This is what I intend to do,” he told them. “It’s time that I confronted my destiny—and I would be honored to have you all fight by my side.”

The silence was deafening. Aaron wasn’t exactly sure what he had expected, but a void of response was not necessarily what he’d hoped for. He was about to turn to Belphegor, when a sword of fire sprang to life within the crowd. It was raised high in the air, and was followed by another, and then another still. Aaron was speechless, looking out over the crowd, as every one of them raised a weapon of heavenly fire in salute to him.

“Guess that’s a vote of confidence,” Aaron heard Lehash say. He turned to find the constable wielding his golden pistols. “They’re not swords, but they do pack a pretty good wallop,” he said, crossing the weapons in front of his chest. “And I would be honored to fight in your name.”

Belphegor smiled as Aaron looked back to the citizens.

Maybe we do have a chance, he thought, his faith roused by the sight of those gathered below him, and he wondered if Camael would have been proud. His musings on his absent friend were cut off, as there came a sound, abrupt in its intensity, painful to the ears. It was like the crack of an enormous bullwhip, and it was followed by a terrible ripping as a hole opened in the air above the crowd. Aaron watched with increasing horror as a red-garbed warrior dropped from the wound in space to the ground below. The crowd pulled back as Malak raised his spear, pointing it toward the Nephilim. Above the armored warrior, the gash pulsed and sparked as the sound of flapping wings began to fill the air.

This is it, Aaron thought as Lehash pushed past him down the stairs, pistols of heavenly fire in each hand. Gabriel had come up the stairs to Aaron’s side, barking and baring his teeth in a display of savagery uncommon to the normally docile animal.

“I want you to go to Vilma,” Aaron told him.

“But I want to stay with—”

“Don’t argue, Gabriel,” he ordered the dog. The sounds of angels’ wings grew louder. “Protect Vilma.” He knew that his friend would have preferred to stay at his side, but Vilma needed a guardian, and he could think of no one that he trusted more.

With no further argument, the dog bounded down the stairs and up the street.

And then an army of angels, bloodthirsty screams upon their lips, weapons of war in their hands, spewed forth from the hole, like biblical locusts preparing to blight the land.