Confronting the Fallen (17 page)

“But Sariel, they're endless.”
Chris pointed down at the hordes below.

“No, not endless, Chris. They are
finite. We are all there are. No reinforcements will come from Heaven
if we fail. My brother has the advantage there.” At Chris' look
of confusion, Sariel smiled. “Souls, Chris. He has been
corrupting and recruiting human souls to use in his army against
Heaven. His forces vastly outnumber mine even now, and if he destroys
your world, his numbers will swell even more.”

“And what will happen if he does
break through your lines and reaches Heaven. Can he really defeat
God?” Chris waited desperately for the reply. Sariel spoke
slowly, apparently feeling his way through the answer.

“No Chris, he cannot. But if he
reaches Heaven's gate, he will awaken a power that has never been
tested.” He answered Chris' look of confusion. “Michael.
He is the commander of the Heavenly Host. He stands at the right hand
of God. And never has his anger been kindled. But should Satan
threaten Heaven, I know my loving brother well enough to see the
consequences. He will unleash all of the power that is within him.
And that power, second only to God's own, focused by his rage and
backed by the truly endless numbers of archangels and angels at his
command, will destroy the devil and his legions. But it will also
destroy the Universe itself.” He shook his head violently. “I
cannot allow that, Chris. Your planet is the focal point, but the
amount of life in the Universe is immense. Countless civilizations,
intelligences to rival the angels themselves, wonders without end. I
will not allow Satan to initiate their destruction.” He put his
hand on Chris' shoulder. And as Chris watched in awe, Sariel changed.

The archangel grew. His clothes
transformed into red-hot armor. His hair faded to gray and flowed
down almost to his waist. And suddenly Chris was looking up at a
being over twice his height, who stared down at him with eyes that
glowed like sapphires. Over his right shoulder stretch a wing
feathered, not in white, but gray like the plains around them. But
from his left shoulder, the wing hung down, broken and dragging
behind him. The scars on Sariel's face looked fresh and tiny rivulets
of blood dripped down from his chin. But the face was still Chris'
face, huge and hideously transformed. Chris could only look for a
moment before he turned away, overwhelmed by a grief that he could
not understand.

“You see me as I am, Chris. As we
are. You were created by our Father, a blessing to me and a chance
for redemption, from a piece of my soul. The rest of me dwells within
you. Together we must find a way to stop the evil that is approaching
your world as inexorably as time itself. If you are willing.”

That last statement caused Chris to
look back up at Sariel. “If I'm willing? Wait. You mean, I can
refuse?”

“Of course you can. You have free
will, Chris. We are one, but you are, as they say, in the driver's
seat. You must make the choice to either fight or flee. I will abide
by that choice. Indeed, I must.”

“Are you sure?” Chris was
suddenly suspicious. “You took over when Anna opened that box.”

Sariel shook his huge head.
“Momentarily and enraged. It will not happen again. It cannot
happen again. And I did not stop because Anna put that hideous
artifact back in the box. You stopped me, Chris. Yes, you.” He
looked down at the forces below, then turned and put his immense hand
back on Chris' shoulder. “I want to give you something, Chris.
A way to tap into my power that now lives within you, and to prove
that you and I actually met face to face.” He reached behind
his back to some hidden pocket and pulled out a shard of metal. It
gleamed like silver but also seemed hot, like his armor. At least,
Chris could see heat ripples in the air above it.

“When I struck down my brother
that fateful day, my sword was shattered by his power. The hilt,
crosspiece and blade were scattered across the Earth, buried deep in
the primeval crust. All that remained was this sliver.” Sariel
squeezed the fragment in his palm so hard that his arm shook. He
worked his fingers into the metal and then opened his palm and showed
Chris the result.

It was a ring. It glowed and flashed
but the heat no longer radiated from it. The edges were rough and
jagged and Chris cringed inside at the thought of trying to slip it
on to a finger. “To use my power, Chris, the power of an
archangel, you will need to find a focus for it. The only thing in
the material plane that can do this is my sword, whole and intact.”

“But your sword was broken.”
Chris wasn't sure what Sariel was asking of him.

“Yes, as I told you. But with
this ring, you will at least be able to use some of the power. It
won't tap into the deepest reservoir of my strength, but it should be
sufficient. For now. If you one day need to use the full power of an
archangel, and one of the firstborn at that, this ring will guide you
to the other pieces. Yes, I know that I am rushing this and you are
filled with confusion but our time together is done. Take the ring.”
Chris accepted the ring from Sariel. It was heavier than it looked.
“Think on what you've seen and heard here. Talk to the judge if
you wish; he is a good and wise man. And then make your choice. If
you choose to fight, put on the ring, but know that once you do, you
will wear it until you reassemble the sword. Don't wait too long.
Time is short.”

“But...” Chris started to
say and then he blinked as he found himself standing in the empty
kitchen again. Now he could smell the remnants of baked bread in the
air and he saw several loaves left under a towel to rise overnight.
He looked around and found the clock. Five in the morning? He
frowned. It had felt a lot longer than a couple of hours. He looked
down at the ring still in his hand. It glowed dully. He shrugged and
put it in his pocket.

He was suddenly very hungry and went to
look in the fridge, when the phone in his pocket rang shrilly in the
quiet room. He jumped and quickly pulled it out.

“Hello?”

“Ah, Mr. Wright! I've been trying
to reach you for over an hour.” He recognized Martin's voice.
Did this guy ever sleep?

“Really? Sorry, Martin. Guess I
had it turned down or something. Is there a problem?”

“I'm not sure. The GPS on your
phone indicated that you left your room about two hours ago. And then
it suddenly went off. Where are you now?”

“Now? I'm in the kitchen getting
a snack.” Chris wondered if he should say something to Martin.
He decided not to. Better to speak to the judge first. He might
understand when Chris told him a story that would definitely sound
crazy. “Should I go back to my room?”

“No, no. That's fine. I'll have
someone replace your phone in the morning. It sounds like that one
needs some repairs. Enjoy your food.”

“Thanks, Martin. See you in the
morning.” Chris clicked off the phone and rummaged around the
fridge until he found a large piece of apple pie in a plastic
container. He ate quickly, put the container in the dishwasher and
headed back to his room. He was very tired now.

Chris was groggy and unfocused when he
woke up in the morning. No one had bothered to wake him, so he
assumed that the judge had asked them to let him sleep after the
traumatic events of the night before with Anna. He was grateful. He
lay back and tried to go through the meeting with Sariel step by
step.

It felt like a dream, but he knew it
was not. Or did he? His body was sore, especially his legs but that
didn't mean much. Was it real? Well, there was one way to find out.

Chris slowly rolled out of bed,
groaning slightly as his muscles throbbed, and walked over to where
he had tossed his jeans before he crawled into bed. He grabbed them
and searched the pockets.

“Ouch!” he exclaimed loudly
and pulled his hand out of a pocket. There was a small cut on the tip
of his forefinger and he sucked on it for a moment before carefully
feeling inside again. This time he slowly withdrew the cause of his
injury. Well, I'll be damned, he thought.

The ring was real, and just as jagged
and painful looking as it had been the night before. He set it on the
table beside his bed and lay back down. It was real. It had all
happened. He was really a human with an angel's soul. An archangel,
he corrected himself. So what does that mean?

He turned his head and stared at the
ring. It reflected the lamp light almost like a jagged piece of
glass. I know what it means, he thought. It means I have to choose:
to fight in a war against demons, which is ridiculous, or to walk
away. Running away would be smarter, he concluded. So what's it going
to be?

Chris put his hands under his head and
stared up at the ceiling. Demons. What did they look like? What could
they do? Were they just wandering around, hiding in the shadows? No,
that would be stupid. He followed the patterns and swirls on the
ceiling with his eyes, random thoughts flitting through his head. And
then something else occurred to him. Talon. They were all marked with
a claw. It didn't take a genius to make the connection.

Chris sat up abruptly and reached for
his phone. He called down to the front desk and a voice he recognized
as Cynthia's answered.

“Good morning, Mr. Wright,”
she said briskly. “What can I do for you?”

Chris realized that she must have
caller ID on her phone. “Um, good morning. I was wondering if I
could get an appointment with Judge Hawkes?”

“One moment, please,” she
replied and Chris heard some keystrokes in the background. “I'm
sorry, Mr. Wright, but the judge has left instructions to keep his
calender clear for a few days. Perhaps if you tried again tomorrow?”

“No, no. This can't wait,”
Chris said urgently. “Please, it's very important that I see
him. Couldn't you, I dunno, check with Martin or something? Tell him
that I really have to see the judge?”

There was a pause on the other end of
the line. “Very well, Mr. Wright,” Cynthia said politely.
Chris thought she sounded a bit too formal and wondered if he had
irritated her somehow. “I'll get in touch with Martin and one
of us will call you back. By the way, is your phone working properly?
I have an order here for a replacement that you will receive later
today.”

“The phone? Oh, right. Yeah, it
seems fine.” Chris had forgotten about Martin thinking that his
phone was out of whack when he'd actually been meeting with Sariel.

“That's fine, then. We'll get
back to you in a few minutes.”

“Thanks, Cynthia. Sorry if I was
too abrupt there. It's just that I really have to talk to the judge.”

“Oh, think nothing of it, Mr.
Wright,” she replied in a friendly tone. “I get urgent
calls to speak to Judge Hawkes all the time.”

“Great. Okay, thanks again.”

Chris hung up and put the phone back on
the table. So the judge wanted to be left alone for a while. He
wondered if it had anything to do with Anna. Maybe she was hurt after
all? He was suddenly even more anxious. If Sariel had actually
injured the old woman, Chris wasn't sure how he'd feel. Angry at the
archangel or guilty because he couldn't stop him. One of those two,
maybe both. He sighed in frustration, then he stood up and walked
over to the window.

Pushing the curtains aside, Chris
looked out over a beautiful sunny day. His bedroom faced the back of
the house and he'd never really noticed what lay behind the estate.
Now, with a few minutes on his hands, he checked out the view.

Chris hadn't realized that there were
such extensive gardens on the property. He didn't walk far from the
front of the house on his evening strolls. But now, across the
grass-covered yard, he could see low hedges surrounding a maze-like
jumble of bushes, tall flowering trees and sprays of brightly colored
flowers. He found the bolt that locked the window, opened it and
lifted the heavy window frame. A slap of warm air hit him and filled
his nostrils with a heady smell of flowers and fresh-cut grass. He
drew in a deep breath, savoring the cacophony of scents.

There was no sign of the dog pack and
Chris remembered that the dogs only patrolled the property after
nightfall. Made sense, he thought. Although the yard had a lot of
trees and plants, he could see to the surrounding walls in all
directions.

He leaned forward and rested his hands
on the window ledge. It was a beautiful place, he had to admit. Chris
realized that though he could see several guards stationed along the
perimeter, none of the other teens were in sight, dressed in those
mysterious long leather coats that he had seen them wearing. Did they
only come out at night too? Interesting.

His phone rang shrilly and Chris
grabbed it and answered eagerly.

“Good morning, Mr. Wright. How
are you this morning?” It was Martin.

“Hi Martin. Good, thanks.”

“Excellent. Whenever you're
ready, the judge is waiting for you in his office.”

Already? he thought, startled. “Great.
Thanks, Martin. I'll head over right now.”

“That's fine. He's expecting
you.”

Chris said goodbye and clicked off the
phone. He headed for the bathroom and got cleaned up quickly. Then he
changed into new jeans and a sweatshirt. He slipped the phone into
his pocket, along with the ring, and hurried to the door. He knew
enough by now to know that he shouldn't keep the judge waiting too
long.

As he headed out of his room, he almost
ran into Tyler and Jacob.

“Whoa. Hey Chris,” Tyler
said with a grin. “Where's the fire?”

“Oh, hey guys. Sorry, I'm on my
way to see Judge Hawkes. Is there a problem?”

“No idea, Chris,” Jacob
answered. “You weren't at breakfast, so we just wanted to come
by and see if you're okay.” He paused and looked Chris up and
down. “Are you? You look a bit...exhausted, actually.”