Fall From Grace, page 7
part #9 of the Preternatural Chronicles Series
Either way, I plopped down in my old spot, noticing how there was a phantom ass groove from the decades I had spent in this very position.
All of a sudden, I longed for the old days. A simpler time when my only goal was to bleach five centuries of tar from my blackened soul.
“You know, it’s funny to me,” I began, resting an arm down the back of the pew while mirroring Father Thomes and crossing a leg over a knee. “Now that I’ve, uh, been granted access to Heaven…I find myself wishing for things to be like they were.”
“You mean after successfully cleansing your soul?”
I cringed like I had licked a 9-volt battery as my mind was flooded with an image that would haunt me forever.
Wide blue eyes stared over rosy cheeks.
“I…I don’t know…if…”
“John, remember,” Father Thomes interrupted my plummeting trail of thoughts. “Forgiving yourself is paramount to providing your soul with the buoyancy needed to ascend to Heaven.”
“I know,” I responded softly, looking toward the stage where Christ hung on his cross. “I…I just need to simmer with this one. Memory, I mean. The-the thing…I did,” I finally got out, stumbling over my own words as I tried to explain why the girl from the plexiglass prison weighed so heavily on me.
Thunder rolled outside as another gust of wind tried to find entry through the cathedral windows. I was thankful for the distraction which allowed for a segue from the uncomfortable subject.
Father Thomes followed my gaze as I looked toward one of the stained glass windows as the wind howled its rage outside.
“Collin’s team did a good job fixin’ the place up, huh?”
“Is that what you’ve come to talk about?”
Dropping my face back to the symbol hanging above the altar, I admitted with a sigh, “No, Papa T. I, uh, need some guidance.”
“I know why you are here, my son,” Father Thomes said, shifting to a professional demeanor. “You are here to ask whether I think you should go to Hell in pursuit of the damned one you call Lily, or travel to the fallen kingdoms of Faerie to save the son of Ludvig.”
“Ye-yeah,” I admitted with bated breath. “Both my heart and my brain are at a total loss.”
“Explain.”
I let my right foot slide off my left knee to plop on the floor as I leaned forward and rubbed my palms together in an uneasy tic.
“If I go after Lily, I’ll be in Hell, again, where I don’t have the best track record.” My mind flashed with all I had lost while below; Dawson’s soul evaporating in my hands, Stef—aka Death Princess—and Jacob getting burned alive by Ulric, Baleius sacrificing himself, and even Grand Master Silver after he had come to his senses and disavowed his loyalty to Satan. All of them had died because of me while in Hell.
I shook my head to clear the disparaging thoughts away.
“Plus, if Samael gets to her first…”
“He would surely set a trap for you,” Father Thomes finished my thought.
“Yeah. Bastard’s pretty good at those.”
Taking in a deep breath, I looked up at the ceiling and admitted something out loud that I really didn’t want to, knowing it might sway my decision.
“That…and Lily can take care of herself. She…she knows what she’s doing.”
I could see Thomes nodding thoughtfully in my peripheral vision.
“And if you go after Magni?”
I hissed out the rest of the breath I had taken.
“Fffffffffffft. I…I don’t know, man.” My head bobbed backward as I let it drop, feeling the collar of my coat kind of pinch the back of my neck.
After a few moments, the answer became obvious, and I flatly said, “Magni needs help. He’s basically still a kid. And I’m told that he’s responsible for the crazy clouds outside.”
“More than just mere clouds, John.”
Yanking my head up, which gave me a sort of headache for a moment, I turned to look at Thomes, silently urging him to continue.
“With the crowns of Faerie under the nefarious control of the Ether, our plane will begin to experience escalating catastrophes that haven’t been experienced since before the New Testament.”
“How do you know that?”
It was Thomes’s turn to sigh as he stood up and gestured for me to follow. The simple act after my question made my brow furrow.
Walking past the wooden pews, we turned and made our way to the spiraling staircase that led to Father Philseep’s reading room, and my old prison cell. Though, at this point, it was probably more accurate to call it Ulric’s cell due to how much longer he had resided in the vampire-proof room.
He stopped in front of an adjacent cell and unlocked it. As the door slid open, Father Thomes looked at the floor with an expression that telegraphed let’s get this over with.
With my brow creased deep enough to be confused with a gaggle of Grand Canyons, I walked inside.
For the briefest of moments, the thought of Father Thomes intentionally tricking me into freely walking to my own prison came to mind.
But that notion quickly deflated when I saw what was in the center of the room.
A block of ice that reminded me of the classic John Carpenter’s movie, The Thing. Only, this block was roughly the size of a…of a man…
Taking two hurried steps to be right on top of the ice coffin, I peered inside just before my lips dripped a moan of dismay.
“Taylor,” I breathed out, resting a hand on the clear ice with a white hue to it. For some reason, I was expecting blue, like in the movies.
The block was cold to the touch, even for me, and I had to pull my hand away after only a few moments of contact.
Something caught my eye, and I flicked my gaze from Taylor’s agonized face to the black creatures attached to him. Snakes that looked as if they were made of the blackest tar were wrapped around his legs, arms, and throat. It was clear their fangs had pierced King Taylor’s flesh, judging by how their mouths were fastened flat against my friend’s armor…and flesh.
“What is this?” I asked, disgust and rage slugging it out for who should have control over the timber and tone of my voice.
I could hear Father Thomes step into the room behind me, and a part of my mind noticed how he didn’t shuffle his feet any longer.
My question remained unanswered.
Whirling on the healthy priest, I flashed red eyes as I regurgitated my question through gritted teeth.
“What…is…this…?,”
Inside my brain, a tiny, meek portion of consciousness took a step forward, hesitantly holding up an index finger while stammering, Um, ex-excuse me. Um…I think we might be projecting anger to the father. So, um, could we, maybe, not?
In response, the beast of rage barked in warning, prompting the tiny bit of reason within my mind to hurriedly step back in line.
But the message had been received, and I willed my eyes to dull back to purple.
Realizing it had been conquered, the personification of wrath that dwelled inside my mind tried a different tactic. Instead of right out aggression and total control over my actions, it approached my consciousness from behind and whispered, Lily.
My furrowed brow went slack as my eyes grew wide in understanding, and my gaze slowly swept back to Taylor’s frozen coffin.
I glanced at the stone floor and looked for the inevitable water that would pool around any ice that sat in room temperature for long enough.
“Taylor is here…in ice that won’t melt. Which means it was made by Lily.” I turned back to Father Thomes. “And because you can’t travel to Faerie, mortal, that means she brought him to you. She was here…and now she’s in Hell.”
“You must understand, John,” Father Thomes said quickly, almost throwing me off guard with his urgency. I had never seen him in a rush to explain himself before. “She couldn’t find you, and she knew she might be the only hope of stopping the Ether.”
Another piece of the puzzle clicked into place, only this bloody piece had been carved from the meat of my heart.
Speaking in a flat, almost hushed tone, I accused, “You sent her…to Hell. You did this.” Betrayal transformed my face like throwing a water balloon filled with paint thinner on the Mona Lisa. My lips dropped into a frown as my eyebrows knitted themselves together and my vision blurred.
“Why?” I whispered, trying not to cry at the absolute treachery that was piercing my heart. Getting stabbed in the back by a business partner or acquaintance was one thing. Watching the blade plunge into your chest by someone you trusted was too much to bear.
Father Thomes seemed to take this all in in the space of a mere second.
Straightening his stance and slapping on an unreadable expression, he explained, “You were gone, John, and the world hangs in the balance.”
“WHEN DOES IT NOT?! It’s always hanging in the freaking balance. Every fucking day, a new world-ending emergency! I’M SICK OF IT!”
The personification of wrath that lived inside my mind…smiled from a darkened corner, content with the work it had done.
“Is that an excuse to let everyone on this planet down?” Father Thomes asked softly. The cadence and tone of his voice presented itself as a dull butter knife, but his words heated the blade to easily melt through my childish lamenting just as smoothly as soft butter.
I knew he was right.
My body instinctively wanted to cross my arms over my chest and turn my back toward my friend at being bested, but I refused the compulsion.
Instead, I forced myself to agree with him.
“No. You’re right. It’s not an excuse.”
“There are a lot of people counting on you. Over eight billion, in fact. All relying on you to protect them from the darkness and the monsters hiding therein.”
I forced myself to take a deep breath, stretching the tightness that tried to compress my chest until I couldn’t breathe any longer.
Seeing my reaction, Father Thomes dropped the bomb on me.
“Which is why you cannot go to Hell.”
The long breath I had been taking was frozen in place, like hitting the pause button on a movie.
Pushing the air through my nostrils in a hiss, I barely moved my tight lips as I asked, “And why not?”
“You know why, my son.”
I continued to stare at the priest, seeing him in a new light. Not only because of the renewed youth that Gabriel had provided him but from how he was playing his cards close to the vest. His obvious lack of trust in me weighed heavily on my shoulders, making me slump ever so slightly.
He must have noticed, since he said, “Let’s talk it out. You owe Lily a life debt, who owes Mephistopheles a life debt. And right now, she is on his home turf.” He raised both palms up and lightly shook his hands. “Isn’t that enough of a reason?”
I let silence be my answer.
“Lily is intelligent and knows what she is doing,” he added, letting his hands drop and taking on a matter-of-fact tone.
He regarded me for a moment before a decision was made in his head. “We have reason to believe that Ulric might take advantage of a potential agreement.”
“ULRIC?! You sent her to find Ulric?!” I coughed out, not believing the words Father Philseep had just uttered. “Why would we even want to work with him?! He’s a lunatic!”
“John, I am treating you like the adult you so desperately want people to perceive you as. Do not throw a tantrum when offered the truth,” Father Thomes reprimanded, taking me completely off guard.
Inside my skull, a battle of emotions created a tornado of uncertainty. On one hand, he was right about me being absolutely exhausted with people I trusted talking in riddles and guiding me like a toddler who had just learned to walk. On the other, fuck Ulric!
“Alright, fine,” I hissed through bared teeth and tight lips. “I’ll ask again. Why would we trust Ulric of all people?”
“First, you must understand that I am speaking on behalf of more than just myself.”
Gabriel flashed to the forefront of my mind, and I nodded once in understanding. As I did, my lips relaxed, covering my teeth from view.
“Why am I not surprised. This kind of move has Gabriel’s stink all over it.” As I spoke, the theater of my mind played back my entire time with Jose in a split second. I could only glimpse single frames, but caught enough to remember how Gabriel had manipulated me into bringing Jose back in time…be…because…
I inhaled sharply, feeling the tightness in my chest double down in an attempt to strangle all the love I had in my heart.
Reminding myself that Thomes was right, I mentally acknowledged that, for perhaps the first time, I was in on the joke before the punch line.
“I was convinced into believing Ulric might take a lucrative opportunity to—”
“Betray his boss?”
“To work with us.”
“How is that any different?” I asked, remembering how strongly Ulric had defended Lucifer’s ultimate agenda.
“Heaven believes that Ulric’s pride has been chipped away enough that he might risk his master’s reprimands in exchange for the chance to…”
It was becoming frustrating to see Papa T struggle to choose his words while in my presence. But a part of me knew he was right to do so. Since this had all begun back in 2019, I had become self-aware enough to understand my faults and weaknesses…most of the time.
I silently urged him to continue, doing my best to prepare my emotions for whatever he was about to tell me.
“To take his position,” Father Thomes carefully concluded.
It took me more than a moment to wrap my head around what he was telling me; enough so that my mouth began spitting out words without any tangible thought behind them.
“You…yo-yo-you want…Ulric…to…to become…Sa-Sa-Sa-Sa-Satan?”
“As I said, Heaven believes the idea worth pursuing. The thought process behind it seems to be that Ulric’s ambitions are more localized compared to Samael’s.”
I digested his words over and over like a cow regurgitating its feed to chew on again.
“The lesser of two evils,” I breathed out, bringing both hands to my face and fiercely rubbing at my closed eyes. I wasn’t too worried about being harsh on them, considering how many times they had regrown from nothing more than mush. I must have the toughest eyeballs in the—
I quickly realized my brain was attempting to distract me from what my friend had just shared with me.
“You sent Lily…to Hell…to try and work a deal with Ulric? How…why…” I was at a loss for words as my reeling mind tried to comprehend everything that was happening.
Father Philseep inhaled again, and my mind went instantly still at the recognition that, whatever he was about to say, I wasn’t going to like it. Funny how such a simple act as taking a breath in could telegraph so much unspoken woe.
“Lily’s objective is to seek Ulric’s help with Magni. It is believed that, since Ulric once loved Lilith, he might be willing to hear her out. That, and it behooves all parties involved to save the tightly entwined planes of Faerie and Earth.”
“And let him suggest on his own a deal to overthrow Samael…” I muttered just above a whisper, my unfocused eyes dropping to the stone floor.
“If we approached him with the idea directly…”
Father Thomes let me finish his thought.
“He might think it was a trap. But if it’s his idea…”
Father Thomes simply nodded in affirmation, the barest of smiles lifting the edges of his lips. Maybe he was proud that I had finally crossed the finish line of this mental marathon.
After a few moments, something tugged at my attention, making my stomach clench like going over the first drop of a vomit-inducing roller coaster.
“This happened when I was gone, didn’t it? Even though I was only ‘gone,’” I said using air quotes, “for a short period on this time line. Which means”—my gaze focused on the man standing in front of me—“that this was all orchestrated.”
Thomes turned and exited the room, silently instructing me to follow as he headed toward his sitting area.
As I thought about Lily, a hand absentmindedly went up to stroke one of the crucifixes fastened to my coat collars.
“What am I missing?” I mouthed to myself as I thought about Lily appearing in the alternate time line. I remembered how she had intently stared at my coat.
“John,” Father Thomes called from down the hall.
Snapping out of it, I decided to hear the priest out, making my way to sit in the chair opposite his.
With a snap of his fingers, he ignited the fireplace, and a steady flame illuminated the area.
In between our chairs was a side table with a thick, ancient tome sitting atop it. Reading glasses, which now had a light layer of dust on them, rested just beside the old book, as did an antique lamp.
Looking at the priest who was waiting patiently for me to gather my thoughts, I was taken aback by the fact I couldn’t see the flames of the fire dancing in his glasses. There was some sort of poetry there that I was almost able to grasp, but decided the important thing was that the priest no longer needed them…because he was gearing up for the final showdown at the O.K. Corral.
Looking at him, it was almost as if the fire that had once been at home in the reflection of his eyes had relocated to within his warrior heart.
I couldn’t help myself and point-blank stated, “The angel is only helping you so we have an extra body to throw on the funeral pyre that is the apocalypse.”
“Then, may I make the flames that much brighter to shed light on the darkness,” he countered without even a moment’s pause.
I animatedly repositioned myself in my chair now that I had a better understanding of his resolution to the cause, and half threw out, “You know I could just make you a vampire. At least then you might have a fighting chance.”
“Wouldn’t that be something,” Father Thomes said with a smile as he looked at the steady flame of the fireplace. “A vampire priest.”
