From Heaven To Earth (The Faith of the Fallen) Page 2

  Though both of them resembled children, Shrazz feared them. He could not speak.

  “Your awe matches ours, Exous Elite. We have always felt humbled by your performance,” they said in unison.

  “Thank you.”

  “Your employer waits ahead for an audience. Follow the stairs to the conference room above. We will meet formally after your mission is complete. Congratulations,” Duo Hera said. Duo Rahm waved before the holographs fizzled and disappeared.

  Shrazz hobbled up the stairs to a doorway and entered.

  An elderly Caucasian man robed in what looked like crimson flower petals, sat on one side of a round table. It smelled of spring. Shrazz could not tell if the scent came from the tall lit candles surrounding them or from the man himself.

  “Hello Shrazz,” he said. His voice cracked and rasped: an abrasive noise drawn on ancient, exhausted vocal cords.

  Shrazz saluted. The man pulled back his hood and bowed. Vines covered in yellow, orange and red blooms, stretched from beneath his robes and held his long white hair in several buns.

  “Come, sit. What do you know of evil, Shrazz? The darkest dark?”

  Shrazz joined him at the table.

  “Evil is a delicacy and sometimes I believe it was put on this earth for me to devour and savor.”

  The old man laughed. “You are fearless.”

  “Or reckless sir. I am never sure.” Shrazz laughed.

  “What is the greatest evil you have known? Did you fear it?”

  “Only when my partner was threatened.”

  “You had a partner?”

  “Yes. Centuries ago. She and my childhood mentor helped me lose my colors and control my metabolism.”

  “What evil threatened her? What was her name? I assume it was a woman.”

  “Riell. And the evil stemmed from a bishop. He killed many of our friends with dark magic, enslaved us and used our Inner to break through dimensional barriers. He wanted to dominate our kind.”

  “So tyranny and genocide were the evils?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Those evils placed my love in jeopardy. If I told you the brightest of lights, the most benevolent of virtues, shelters impenetrable dark, the heart of evil itself, what would you say?”

  “Evil exists everywhere. Just as light and shadow,” Shrazz said.

  “I was a byproduct of that evil, a byproduct of God’s mistakes.”

  “Who are you?” Shrazz asked.

  “I am Satan.”

  Shrazz felt cold and stood to leave.

  “You stink of negativity. Not even I could stomach it.”

  Satan’s high melodic laugh rang throughout the room.

  “I’ve never heard an exous use the words, negativity and stink in the same sentence. You did not feel such aversion until you heard my name.”

  Shrazz bowed to him.

  “It was a satisfying contest. Thanks. This meeting is over for me.”

  “What if I told you there was more to come? That this mission will sate your passion forever?” Satan asked.

  “Fighting God is folly. Fighting by your side would be an even greater mistake. If the Duo knew your identity they would not have allowed you on these grounds. I would flee while you have the chance.”

  “The Duo are aware. They selected you for the mission before the contest’s registration opened. This battle was for my benefit only, so I could test you and remove possible threats from the equation,” Satan said.

  “Other half-breeds you mean?” Shrazz asked.

  “Yes. If other half-breeds learned of this liaison they would revolt. We killed hundreds of the most renowned half-breed officers from this organization and many others. They will be too preoccupied with mourning and officer elections to even consider foul play. Deadly contests are commonplace.”

  “A brilliant maneuver. Perhaps I will tell others of this and start my own revolt against your vendetta. You have told me too much.”

  “Shrazz. This is not a vendetta. This is about preservation, evolution and ascension. If we do not act, holocaust will find us again.”

  “God is seeking to eradicate us?” Shrazz asked.

  “No. He is dying, Shrazz.”

  Shrazz sat.

  “Dying?”

  “Yes and conflict beyond your imagining will follow His passing. Together we will preserve our people, prevent their extinction. More than that, we will claim a stake in this world. No longer will we hide. Life will finally accept us. Then again it will not have a choice.”

  “Say I humor you. What is my part?” Shrazz asked.

  “You are a unique exous, capable of rapid evolution under the right circumstances. This mission will provide those circumstances. You will become a greater divine, a being of creation and destruction.”

  “How?” Shrazz asked.

  “As I said, God is dying. Our informant, an archangel known as Leoran, told me of God’s last resort: an angel. He will send one in his defense. You will intercept him and sup his angelic energy. That will be the first step.”

  “I have never fought such a being. It will be my pleasure to accept this challenge,” Shrazz said.

  Satan smiled. “As it is my pleasure to provide it. But as I said it is only the first step. The path after will be arduous. You will need a partner.”

  “You have seen my prowess first hand. I do not require assistance.”

  “You were impressive indeed, but it will not be enough. You need a partner that knows your weaknesses and thus will protect you from them. Your foil, your superior.”

  “No half-breed exists.” Shrazz laughed. “I almost lost this battle due to fatigue. That is all.”

  “I require this of you.”

  “Alright,” Shrazz said.

  “This will not be pleasant.”

  Vines snaked out of Satan’s robe and up Shrazz’s body. Flowers bloomed on their ends and long suckers extended and retracted from them. They positioned themselves over his ears and plunged into him. Blurred memories of Riell flashed through his head. One sharpened, and as it did agony consumed him.

  Shrazz cherished every memory of Riell: when they met in London as children, when they matured together and recognized their need for one another in Paris, their first kiss, and the first time they made love. Nothing compared to becoming her enemy, to fighting her on the battlefield. Shrazz held that memory above all others.

  Riell was beautiful in battle.

  In 1765, rumors had reached England that monastic half-breeds in Tibet could infuse humans with their spirit energy. The king’s closest general hired Shrazz to apprehend those half-breeds for his own purposes. Shrazz found the general’s desire to tap into “demonic magic” amusing. If the general fulfilled his ambition, he would more than likely kill himself and royals in his pursuit of power. Shrazz prayed every night for that kind of pandemonium. His life felt meaningless without war, and he was certain war would be meaningless without him.

  Shrazz and his raiders used inter-dimensional tunnels to reach their destination. His soldiers complained the entire time they traversed the frigid, eternally dark passages. Shrazz hated human-sitting; half-breed babies complained less.

  They exited on the Tibetan Plateau sixty miles away from the target village. Mystical interference prevented them from getting any closer.

  Shrazz did not want to stop for the night, but inter-dimensional travel and hiking in the high altitude had fatigued his humans.

  Yells woke him at sunrise. Ten of his soldiers had been castrated and impaled on javelins outside their tents. His officers pleaded with him to heed the blatant warning, but Shrazz only smiled. Shrazz could not believe he had slept through such a scene. Excitement brought a glow to his eyes and heated his skin. He had not expected any resistance. His rising temperature set his clothes on fire.

  “They came in the night because they fear us during the day,” Shrazz said. “We press on.”

  He laid a hand on one of the bodies, and it burst into flames.
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  “After I eat.”

  At sunset a few miles away from the village, his scouts informed him of an army in their path. Shrazz assumed the village had been warned, perhaps by skia scouts. He hadn’t seen any of the half-angels, but their innate ability to become invisible, even to the heightened senses of half-breeds and demons could have been why. They made camp and did reconnaissance.

  His scouts told him the army of villagers numbered one thousand: double the size of Shrazz’s raiding party. They were armed with crude bows, swords, spears and animal skins that barely covered their pitch black, muscled bodies.

  With muskets, forged armor and weapons, Shrazz believed his army had a decisive advantage. He ordered an attack. Shrazz knew the villagers could see the setting sun’s reflection on their steel armaments and assumed they would flee, but to his surprise they charged with hearty battle cries.

  A quarter of the villagers fired bows while the rest, armed with swords and spears, rushed in. Shrazz’s army fired volley after volley at the defenders and wounded none of them.

  He knew the skia were involved but could not find any trace of them. Shrazz ordered a full charge. Even if all of his men died he would survive. No number of humans or skia would prevent him from completing his mission.

  Soon he noticed them or rather, the trail of carnage they left in their wake. One by one, his officers’ flags fell. Human hands could not have been so efficient. He assumed the skia were camouflaged and attacking by air.

  He looked for the nearest officer’s banner and pushed past soldiers to reach it. He took the banner from his officer and waited. Skia swooped down on his position. Shrazz could smell their distinct energies as they closed in.

  He punched into the air, caught one in the chest and killed her instantly. With the other hand, he unleashed a wave of fire and incinerated the others in the group. He caught sight of the last one: Riell.

  He knew her from the way she looked in the air as she swooped through the air beneath camouflage: like wavering heat from a flame, enthralling and deadly. He pulled his sword from his sheath and assumed a defensive stance. Her sword went through his as if it were only air and shattered it.

  He stepped sideways. Her sword pierced his shoulder instead of his heart. He grit his teeth, head-butted her, grabbed her sword arm and heated it. She hissed. Her camouflage wavered and he caught a glimpse of her green eyes and pale face before she faded from view again. She kept hold of her sword.

  He immolated himself completely. Flames spurted from his armor, rapidly heating the metal. She screamed and flipped away. He pulled the red-hot sword from his body. His wound instantly cauterized.

  Into the air she flew and loosed a barrage of arrows. He deflected them easily. She dropped her camouflage and stood a small distance away, obscured only by fighting soldiers.

  Her tan robe and her long black hair flowed in the crisp mountain air. Shrazz could see millions of colors in her glowing wings. She threw her longbow to the ground.

  He took his helmet off and ripped the melted breastplate from his flesh. The cold air refreshed his black, sweaty skin. His wounds itched as they closed up and healed.

  She dashed for him and moved in and out of the clamor. He lost sight of her.

  Her punch came from underneath and sent him airborne.

  She kept hold of his sword arm, and twisted it. His momentum slung him around. He dropped her sword, bounced once on the ground and lay there half-conscious, taken aback by her ferocity.

  She knew it was him. She had to have known it was him.

  Her sword touched his throat in seconds.

  Nausea overtook Shrazz when Satan removed his vines.

  “She is the one.”

  “She will refuse... what did you do to me?”

  “Convince her. Recruit Riell. My time grows short. Do we have an agreement?”

  “Yes.”

  Shrazz stood to shake Satan’s hand. His battle wounds reopened, and he stumbled to the ground. Satan’s robe wilted. Hundreds of petals fell around Shrazz as he bled alone.

  Chapter 3

  Riell stared into the toilet and waited: she had to throw up to get rid of her migraine. She knew Shrazz would make fun of her susceptibility to motion sickness. It was rare among half-angels like her, who used their wings to travel by air frequently.

  When she was younger she couldn’t fly for more than an hour without having to stop and throw up.

  Her stomach had grown stronger since, and while normal flight no longer made her sick, the shuttle ride from Earth to The Falling Curtain’s low orbit space station and the long distance teleportation from the space station to their sub-space headquarters where Shrazz was hospitalized was intolerable.

  After she threw up several times she checked herself in the mirror. She looked like hell, but she didn’t want Shrazz eye-screwing her the whole time either. She sighed: it was time to get her visit over with.

  While she walked down the white and blue halls of the hospital to Shrazz’s room, she wondered why she had endured such a trip for him.

  Riell stood outside Shrazz’s hospital room and considered leaving.

  Why had she come at all?

  He had not contacted her for centuries, but still had her as his primary emergency contact. She told herself she just wanted to see Shrazz in critical condition for the first time for satisfaction and the chance to gloat.

  But, when she saw his battered bandaged body she forgot about her migraine, went back downstairs to the hospital’s food court and purchased 500 barbeque “hot as hell” wings from his favorite restaurant Burnin’ Wings.

  Burnin’ Wings was the only place that served authentic demon meat, a controversial move for a half-breed owned restaurant. Their popularity eventually eclipsed criticisms, but Riell would never allow herself such a taboo regardless of how delicious it was.

  She loaded the food on a cart and sought out a copy of his tournament tape to watch with him while he ate.

  He would want to talk about the fight with her.

  She made her way back to the room and stood outside the door. She could not bring herself to enter.

  Had he missed her at all? Had he changed, or was he still the womanizer she had always known? She decided to at least set the massive wing buckets in his room.

  Riell opened the door quietly, unloaded the wings and was half-way out the door when he stirred.

  “Riell? You brought me wings?”

  She turned around and saw him sitting up with a gleaming grin on his smooth, hairless face.

  “Hey Shrazz.”

  Riell tried not to smile, but her thin lips curled up regardless. She knew then she had missed him, and it frustrated her.

  “So, can I get a hug?”

  She crossed her arms.

  “You look rough,” she said.

  “It was a rough fight. You don’t look great yourself. Baggy sweats? Usually you’re proud of your curves. And you’re lookin’ thin. You know your cheekbones stick out when you’re underweight. Your tan looks nice though. Never thought you’d be able to get one of those.” Shrazz smiled.

  “You’re still as suave as Bond, Shrazz.”

  Shrazz laughed, and even though Riell was irritated from his remarks, she chuckled.

  “I uh, got a copy of the tournament. We can watch it while you eat if you want. The officials I spoke to said if it leaves the building they’ll put a price on my head. What kind of tournament was this?”

  “Yeah. Let’s,” Shrazz said through a mouthful of meat and bone. “I’ll tell you more about it all in a second. Hungry.”

  “How can you eat those whole... disgusting,” she said as she put the DVD inside the television hanging from the ceiling. “How long are you supposed to be in here?”

  “A few days.”

  Shrazz’s agility made Riell gasp: he was a black blur; the camera could barely follow him.

  “Impressed?” Shrazz grinned. “By my count I killed at least twenty in the first minute. Most of them
didn’t even see me coming.”

  Riell sat down next to him on the bed.

  “Okay, Shrazz. Yes. I’m impressed. You’ve improved drastically.”

  “I’m sure you have too,” he said and smiled at her.

  Riell’s heart fluttered when she saw his large lips turn up into a smile and had to look away. When he smiled like that he looked like he genuinely cared, and his dimples made him almost look innocent.

  Riell tried to ignore her reaction and took a deep breath.

  “These half-breeds you’re fighting... a lot of them are high ranking officials from numerous organizations. What was this tournament for, Shrazz?”

  “It was a chance at a mission,” Shrazz garbled through a mouthful of meat and bone.

  He swallowed it all faster than Riell expected and burped loudly.

  Riell’s electric green eyes widened before disgust rolled them back into her head.

  A knock sounded from the door.

  “Come in,” Shrazz said.

  A nurse came in with an envelope.

  “This letter came for you. There is no return address.”

  “I’ll take it. Thanks.”

  The nurse left, and Shrazz tore into the envelope.

  “What is it?” Riell asked.

  “I’ll read it,” Shrazz said. “You have been selected for the mission based on your tournament performance. Congratulations. This mission is of the utmost classified nature. Please insure your privacy before reading further.”

  “Who is it from?”

  “The Duo, I’m guessing,” Shrazz lied. “Who else would it be from?”

  “Okay. Why are you staring at me? Read it!” Riell said.

  “Alright, alright. Your first order is to recruit Riell Frallt. We want her to work beside you.” Shrazz realized Satan had injured him in order to ease Riell’s recruitment.

  Riell stood and took a step away from him.

  “Well what do you say, Riell? They want us together again.”

  “I’m declining. I know a ruse when I see one.”