The Fallen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Drained, Aaron fell to his knees upon the lawn. His eyes were closed but still he saw the beautiful image of Ezekiel burned upon his retinas. He started to relax and felt the wings on his back begin to recede, the appendages of cartilage and feathers disappearing beneath the flesh of his shoulder blades. His skin began to prickle and he opened his eyes to see that the black markings on his arms and chest had begun to fade as well.

Gabriel came to him, tail wagging so furiously that it looked as though the dog had no control over his back end. He dug his head beneath Aaron’s arm and flipped it with his snout, demanding to be petted. “That was nice, Aaron,” the dog said happily. “You let him go home.”

Aaron looked to Camael. “What the hell just happened?” he asked, struggling to stand on shaking legs. “What did I do?”

The angel was looking up into the sky with longing on his soiled, yet still-distinguished features. “There is no more doubt, Aaron Corbet,” Camael said, shaking his head, looking from the sky to him. “You are the One whose coming was foretold so long ago. Finally you have come to—”

“What did I do?” Aaron demanded to know.

The angel pulled at his silvery goatee as he spoke. “You have the power to grant absolution,” Camael explained, a hint of a smile playing on his features. “Any who have fallen from the grace of God will be granted forgiveness in your presence, as long as they have seen the error of their ways.”

“That’s nice, Aaron,” Gabriel said, looking up at his master, tail still happily wagging. “Isn’t it nice?”

“Yeah, it’s nice. So they’re forgiven, what does that mean?” Aaron asked the angel. “Where did Zeke go?”

Camael again gazed upward. “He has returned home.”

Aaron, too, looked into the sky. There was no longer any sign of the storm that had battered his neighborhood. “You’re telling me that Zeke went back to Heaven.”

“Your people have many colorful names for where he has gone: Paradise, Elysium, Nirvana, the happy hunting ground—Heaven is but one of them,” Camael explained.

Aaron mulled this over. “And I sent him there?”

Camael pointed at Aaron with a long, well-manicured finger. “You are the bridge between the fallen and God.”

“God, huh?” Aaron slipped his hands casually into the back pockets of his jeans. He gazed toward what was left of his home, painfully remembering what had been done to it, to his parents—all in the name of God. He scowled and stormed away. “Y’know what?” he said, walking around the house to the front. “I don’t think so.”

Camael followed. “You can’t run away from this, Aaron,” he said, catching up to him. “It is your destiny. It was written of—”

Aaron spun around, stopping the angel cold. “Thousands of years ago,” he finished. “I know all about it and I’m not too sure how happy I am serving a God who would allow this to happen.” He gestured to the still-smoldering remains of his home. “Not to mention the hundreds—maybe thousands—of others He’s allowed Verchiel to kill in His name.” Aaron was furious, ready to take on the Creator Himself if necessary. “You tell me how I’m supposed to do this.”

The Stanleys’ neighbors had begun to emerge, cautiously making their way from their homes to view the devastation that they believed was caused by a storm.

Aaron gazed at what remained of the only home he’d ever known, both he and the angel watching as the last of the fire burned down to glowing embers.

“I understand your anger,” Camael said.

Climbing the crumbled brick steps to where the front door once stood, Aaron stepped over what was left of the entryway into the rubble of his home. “Do you, Camael? Do you really understand?” He stood where the living room once was—where his parents had died. “Up until a few days ago I didn’t believe in Heaven, angels, or flaming swords—never mind God.” He kicked at a piece of wood that still glowed red. “And now I find out I’m part of some elaborate plan to reunify Heaven, to reunite all of God’s children so they can be one big happy family again.”

He remembered the boring simplicity of movie night with his foster family, and almost began to cry. But he was too angry for tears.

“How am I supposed to do this for Him when He couldn’t even bother to save my family? Can you tell me that, Camael, because I’m really curious.”

The sad wail of sirens could be heard in the distance.

“The Almighty,” Camael began, “the Almighty and His actions or lack thereof…they are part of a much larger scheme. We may not understand it but—”

“The Lord works in mysterious ways,” Aaron interrupted sarcastically. “Is that how you’re going to try and explain this? That it’s all part of some big picture that we’re not privy to?”

There were neighbors in the street in front of the demolished home. There was fear in their eyes. Aaron could practically hear the thoughts running through their minds. How could this have happened without me knowing? I didn’t even know it was raining. Was there an explosion? I live right next door. This could have happened to me. I hope everyone is all right.

“I know how hard this must be to grasp in a moment of tragedy. It is a quandary I, too, have come to ponder in my time upon this world.” The angel walked to an area of collapsed wall and squatted before it. “The Father is aware of everything,” he said, reaching beneath the plaster. “No matter how harsh or random things may appear, He does have a plan.”

Camael pulled something from the rubble and brought it to Aaron. It was a broken frame and undamaged within it was a picture of his entire family. They were all wearing Santa hats, even Gabriel. Aaron took it and gazed at the happy image. He remembered when it was taken two years ago—how appalled he had been to have to wear the stupid hat. He had been even more mortified when the Stanleys had used the picture for their Christmas card that year.

Aaron carefully took the picture from the frame, a remembrance of a life now horribly altered by an ancient destiny.

“Sometimes the bad must precede the good,” Camael said in another attempt to make him comprehend the machinations of the Creator. “Do you understand what I’m trying to say?” he asked.

Gabriel sniffed about the burned remains of what had been the recliner, sticking his nose beneath its twisted metal skeleton in search of something. Aaron was about to tell the dog to be careful when Gabriel pulled a filthy tennis ball from beneath the chair.

“Look, Aaron!” he said excitedly, his speech distorted by the ball rolling around in his maw. “I’ve found my ball. I thought I’d lost it forever!” The dog eagerly let the ball fall from his mouth. For a brief moment his friend was happy, all the sadness of the past few hours pushed aside.

Aaron didn’t like Camael’s explanation of how things worked, but guessed he had no choice but to accept it. There was method to God’s madness, so to speak.

He looked at the picture of his family one more time, then folded it and slid it into his back pocket.

“I have to find my little brother,” Aaron said, looking to the angel that stood at his side. “Will you help me get him back?”

The fire engines screamed onto Baker Street, lights flashing, sirens howling as if mourning all the sadness they’d borne witness to.

“I will do that,” Camael said with little emotion. Aaron might as well have asked him if he wanted milk or cream in his coffee.

Gabriel brought the ball to Aaron and let it drop at his feet. He wagged his tail as he leaned his head forward and lovingly licked his hand. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll find Stevie. You’ll see, Aaron, everything will be fine.”

And as he gazed around at the smoldering ruins of his home, reflecting upon the shambles his life had become, thinking about the unknown that was the future ahead, Aaron wasn’t so sure that anything would ever be fine again.