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.”