From Heaven To Earth (The Faith of the Fallen) Read online

  “We need to get to Hell as soon as possible,” Drean said.

  “I don’t trust him!” Zaltus exclaimed. He turned to face Drean, his human eye aflame. He pointed at him.

  “Zaltus, calm down. You will have your final test,” Gri said.

  “How else could he possibly be tested?” Zaltus started.

  “Let me speak!” Gri boomed and rumbled the room with his voice. Some of the bottles on his lab table crashed to the ground.

  “Drean, the only way to get to Hell as quickly as you need to is through this,” Gri said as he walked over to his desk. He opened a small drawer on the right side of it and removed a black gem and a silver medallion with an upward pointing pentagram inscribed on it. A hole was at its center.

  “So give it to us so we can be on our way,” Gerald said through his teeth. He stood up.

  “Gerald without Zaltus’ power the medallion won’t work,” Gri said. “Who knows where it would take you.”

  “Sit back down, fallen,” Zaltus spat. “Or I will pluck your wings clean one feather at a time."

  Gerald stared into Zaltus’ eye and loosened his fists. He drug his feet along and sat back down on the couch. He slumped into it.

  “What must I do?” Drean said.

  “Die,” Zaltus sneered.

  “Zaltus don’t be so dramatic,” Gri said, shaking his head. “Drean, the half-breeds of Nuevas Cruces are in trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?” Drean asked.

  “Eradication,” Gri said, his voice grew sorrowful. “After this story aired the people demanded answers and action. Mayor Saffron gave Executor Hererro permission to apprehend them and question them, but I know he’s not going to stop there.”

  “And you want me to save them? Or kill this Executor?”

  “Let me handle Herrero,” Gerald said.

  “This is Drean’s test, Gerald. Yes. Save them. Do not kill the Executor. This is a rescue mission only,” Gri said.

  “Hardly a proper test,” Zaltus said.

  “Let me finish, Zaltus,” Gri said. “You know if he fails the Executor will surely kill all the half-breeds along with Drean. He will torture Drean to glean information from him since he’s an angel.” Zaltus’ face lit up at this notion. “Drean would die a slow death with the knowledge that he had abandoned his companions and utterly failed,” Gri finished.

  “Torture, yes. Half-breeds dying, yes.” Zaltus thought the agreement over. “The angel in complete anguish when it dies... this is getting more feasible.”

  “I’ll handle him! You’ve tortured him enough,” Gerald said, and stood up.

  Zaltus grinned when he saw Drean fight back tears.

  “But what of this audacious nuisance and the angel’s mistress?”

  “If Drean fails there is no hope for this world,” Gri said. You may do with them as you like. If either of them tries to leave you can slay them.”

  Zaltus cackled. “Alright! I am in accordance!”

  “Good,” Gri said.

  He walked to a massive bookshelf on the opposite side of the room, found what he needed and sifted through his lab desk’s drawers to find tools required to fit the black jewel to the medallion.

  Gerald sat back down. Riell resisted the urge to behead the warlock.

  “I’m sorry, my friends, this seems to be the only way,” Drean said as he stood up from the couch. “And if I fail...” He turned away from them.

  “Death!” Zaltus proclaimed.

  “Can you try to calm yourself, so I can work on this?” Gri asked his human half. He picked the jewel up, scrutinized it and compared its size to the hole in the medallion. The medallion dissembled in the air, and energy forked from one piece to another.

  “Don’t think about that, Drean.” Riell came to his side. “You won’t fail.”

  “You can do it, kid,” Gerald said. “I’m sorry we can’t be there by your side.”

  “Do everything you can,” Zaltus said, “to fail.” He sneered. “Make no mistake this world’s apocalypse is coming whether you save the half-breeds or not.”

  “He’s so cynical. Don’t listen to a word he says. He always talks incessantly of Armageddon,” Gri said, as he filed one side of the jewel.

  “And there is nothing any of you can do to stop it!” Zaltus exclaimed. “Eradication is better than servitude. You of all people, angel, should know that. Just let them die,” Zaltus said.

  “I’m ready,” Drean said. “Where do I go?”

  Riell hugged him and Drean returned her embrace. “Be careful,” she whispered in his ear.

  He nodded at her, and she sat back on the couch.

  “The capitol,” Gri said. “They’re preparing a protest there. Whether it’s peaceful or not the Executor will make the most of the situation. He’s an opportunist.”

  “What part of the city is it located in?” Drean asked.

  “The center,” Gri said.

  “Alright.”

  Drean closed his eyes, and tried to get a bearing of where the building was in relation to his entry point when he had first arrived on Earth.

  “Do you need me to open a door for you, Drean?”

  “No, he must do it alone,” Grizaltus said.

  Riell held her hands out in surrender.

  Drean kept his eyes closed for a moment longer and a door of light opened in front of him.

  “How did you...?” Riell said.

  “I learn quickly.” Drean smiled and waved. “I’m to return here with them?”

  “Yes, bring them to the lobby. I’ll handle it from there,” Gri said.

  “Farewell, my friends.” Drean stepped through the door, and it closed behind him.

  Chapter 45

  The Executor stood behind a podium at the top of the steps of Nuevas Cruces’ domed, mock Roman capitol building and surveyed the reporters at the bottom of the stairs.

  Six large, Doric columns held up the porch roof and its frieze depicted the torso and head of a muscular angel. His outstretched wings nearly filled the whole surface area on either side of him.

  Even though this press conference was short notice there are so many reporters here. Wait until they hear about my solution to all of this, Peter thought.

  Peter looked behind him and smiled in appreciation.

  One hundred of his most trusted officers stood in front of the capitol doors armed with the half-breed hunting body armor he and his partners had created.

  Mary and Zach constructed the armor from scientifically engineered metal they developed by using blood and tissue from half-breeds and demons.

  The end result was a form fitting bio-suit that could withstand heavy impact and regenerate itself as long as synthinner was flowing through its system of veins. When activated, the suit would ooze out of its housing inside of a small jet pack, cover its user and harden into a white scale-like metal once the body was fully covered.

  Later they were able to duplicate the metal without a steady supply of material by using enchantment.

  Their helmets completely covered their heads. Its visor-screen obscured the eyes and was lustrous silver.

  I really can’t believe this is finally going to happen, he thought.

  Peter felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. He took it out and answered it.

  “Hello?” he said into the phone.

  “Oh! It’s time. It’s time, sir. Time to begin,” his second in command, Councilor Suchi said.

  “Sample enough of your drugs today?” Peter asked. “I told you to stay clean today, Councilor. Did the mayor send the official state of emergency papers?”

  “I tried. I tried. Just so excited. Smoked some to calm down... got too tired. Popped some to wake back up. Snappy as hell now, sir. Snappy as hell.”

  Peter sighed.

  “Alright. Did he send them or not?”

  “We got it, sir. Got it good. Got it better than I did on my third honeymoon.”

  “Hey! It’s time to get started! We don’t have all
day!” A reporter yelled from the crowd. Other reporters joined in.

  “I don’t know what the hell you’re even talking about, Suchi,” Peter said. “Sober up and get your ass out here.”

  Peter hung up and addressed the crowd.

  “Good morning, everyone,” he said.

  The press quieted.

  “Please hold questions until the end of my statement,” he said. “As you know some strange things have been going on in our city. Our park has been desecrated by half breeds: spawn of demons and angels that have roamed our world long before our time.”

  Some of the reporters already had their hands raised at this point. Peter glanced at them and shook his head before continuing.

  “My constituents and I had recognized these beings as a potential threat many years ago and prepared as such,” Peter continued.

  More reporters raised their hands.

  “Why haven’t we come forward until now?” Peter asked, trying to guess the question on their minds.

  Most of the reporters lowered their hands.

  “The mayor didn’t recognize...” the Executor paused.

  No, I shouldn’t compromise his credibility, he thought.

  “The mayor didn’t come to realize their existence until very recently,” Peter amended. “Until now the half-breeds have been very covert with their lecherous activities, and therefore it was difficult to acquire sufficient evidence to convince him.”

  “What are you going to do about this?” a reporter yelled from the back.

  “Capture them, and if they resist they will be executed immediately.”

  At this the press went into an uproar.

  “If you want your questions answered you’ll have to be silent. Raise your hands,” Peter said.

  They quieted down and waited patiently for the Executor to recognize them before asking any other questions. Peter looked at the crowd and tried to decide where he should begin.

  A tall, slender woman in a bright green sun dress of stitched cloth leaves at the front caught his attention.

  She had dark green hair and large, round lime green eyes. Her hand was raised, and she stared at the Executor with silent resolve.

  She looks familiar, who is she? I guess green is her favorite color. Talk about overkill.

  “You in front, miss?” the Executor asked.

  Several of the reporters pointed at themselves unsure of who the Executor referred to. The woman knew the floor was hers.

  “Vernezeran, representing TFC, sir,” she said. She did not seem excited he had chosen her for the first interview, like she had anticipated it.

  That acronym sounds familiar, the Executor thought. And I don’t remember any local news stations or papers going by it.

  “Yes, miss...” the Executor decided not to stumble over the name. “Please ask your question.”

  “I have a couple if I would be allowed them. They’re prevalent and may save some time,” she said.

  “That’s fine. You were the only reporter following directions,” the Executor said.

  The crowd protested.

  “My first question...” she began. Her voice trilled over the multitude even though she had no equipment amplifying it. “How can you distinguish these half-breeds from regular humans?”

  “We have developed technology that can recognize their distinct auras,” the Executor said, proud to speak of his armor to the public.

  “Auras?” the reporter gave a small laugh.

  “Yes,” The Executor coughed. “For lack of better terminology. The half-breeds emit very distinct spirit patterns. Our equipment picks these up. Other than these auras they have supernatural abilities that distinguish them from normal humans.”

  She laughed.

  “Abilities? Such as?”

  “Flight, super strength, the ability to manipulate shadows, invisibility, some can concentrate their energy into projectiles, others can summon creatures...”

  “You seem to be well informed, sir,” she said. Her intense, unblinking gaze made Peter nervous.

  Why does she keep staring at me like that? Peter thought. She hasn’t written anything down on her pad. In fact I don’t even think she has a team with her. Her face looks so familiar but I can’t place it.

  “Where are you getting this information?” she asked.

  “All of this info is from personal records we’ve compiled over the years by neutralizing half-breed incidents.” The Executor took a drink from the glass of water he had placed on the podium before the conference.

  “So you’ve been apprehending and executing civilians under the assumption that they are supernatural mutants?” she asked.

  The Executor almost choked on his water.

  “I have apprehended and executed half-breeds. Yes.”

  Reporters answered his confession with flash bulbs.

  “Sounds like the demented crusade of a madman the more I hear,” Vernezeran said with a smile.

  Peter realized she was trying to undermine his credibility for some reason and took a deep breath to calm himself.

  “Let me remind you all that the mayor himself not only supports my reactions to this threat but believes with conviction that my soldiers and I are the only viable solution.”

  Vernezeran folded her arms, and the Executor smiled at her irritation.

  “Fair enough. I had forgotten. Excuse my accusation.”

  “Excused.”

  “So if these... half-breeds have this sort of advantage over humans how will you hope to combat them?”

  “Our weapons are capable of handling every type of half-breed within our records. That’s how.”

  “So you believe your weapons are going to be able to combat these half-breeds effectively?” Vernezeran asked.

  “Effectively?” the Executor laughed. “This armor is equipped with a jet pack will allow us to fly faster than them. We have bullets that can hone in on specific energy signatures, penetrate scales, or armor if they are wearing it, and the computer database will remember breeds we’ve fought to provide combat suggestions on demand. The bullets and rockets are fused with dormant synthinner, that is, the synthetic form of the energy the demons use. That energy can be activated for any number of purposes. Most importantly the ability to turn their own magic against them,” the Executor continued. “As I mentioned before we use several types of ammo to combat them. But all of the bullets are the same caliber, a little smaller than you would use in a sniper rifle. The synthinner allows us to convert them to whatever purpose we need. We have small rockets as well, and with that much power between only two types of ammo, I’m pretty sure that makes this rifle the most effective and efficient hand weapon in history.”

  Vernezeran’s eyelids twitched, and she forced a smile.

  “Okay. I’m impressed,” she said.

  The Executor grinned.

  “Additionally, if for some reason we run out of ammo our suits can inject us with synthinner to provide increases in strength, speed, and perception for a limited amount of time, but since it is potentially harmful that function will only be used in emergencies.”

  “I have one more question and then I’ll leave the floor to someone else.”

  “Ask away,” the Executor said.

  “If for some reason you were captured or perish the thought... killed in action, who would take your place? Is there anyone else you would entrust leadership to in your stead? ” she asked.

  “No one. Without me this operation would fall apart. Moving on,” Peter said. “You, in the middle.” Peter pointed into the middle of the crowd.

  All the reporters in the vicinity tried to talk at once.

  “Eyes, did you get all that?” Vernezeran said into a microphone on her wrist. She held her right ear so she could hear the response over all the reporters.

  “Yeah, Vern, we’re awaiting orders,” he answered.

  “Take your time. It’s chaos out here,” Vern said. “He won’t be going anywhere.”

  One of Pet
er’s soldiers whispered something in his ear.

  “We’ve put off our hunt long enough. This conference is over! Save your questions. I will contact the media when I have more time. Please disperse for now.”

  He turned his back on the congregation and walked to the doors of the capitol to Councilor Suchi, who stood in front of his line of soldiers.

  The reporters came up the stairs after him.

  “Stall him, Vern,” Eyes said. “HQ is deliberating.”

  “Right,” Vern said.

  “Suchi. Are you coherent enough to do your job?” Peter said.

  “Ready, sir. Here, sir!” he answered.

  “Good enough. Get them out of here and make sure everyone is ready to head out. We have hunting to do.”

  “Mobilize! Advance!” Suchi said. “Get these snakes out of here!”

  The soldiers formed a blockade between the top of the stairs and the capitol door.

  “I have one more question, Executor.” Vern’s voice rose over the clamor and caused everyone to hold their ears. Peter winced at the sound.

  “That annoying reporter, what’s her name? Vern...” He turned around and nearly fell over. She stood right in front of him.

  “Vernezeran,” she said.

  “Ask your question,” the Executor grumbled. “Get your armor and weapons online and stop gawking, men!”

  “Yes, sir!” they said in unison, and turned their armaments on.

  “Your question,” Peter said.

  “The half breeds. How do you know they’re all so deserving of eradication?” she asked.

  “Force will only be used if necessary,” the Executor said quickly. “We only want to question them. If they’re deemed harmless they will be set free.”

  “We’re taking aim. HQ says he has to be taken out. Vern,” Eyes said.

  “Councilor, if you want to keep your position I want...” the Executor began.

  “Fine, wait until I’m out of the way,” she whispered into her mic.

  She hoped Michael would understand what had to be done. He had been blowing up her phone ever since she had texted him saying The Falling Curtain needed a high ranking rep to intercept Peter. She had been out of touch the night before when they had tried to contact her to investigate the incident in The Park, so she felt obligated to show initiative. The chance at humiliating Peter was a perk. She had never liked him.