Ascent of the Fallen

by Rebecca L. Frencl

  Michael stood, silent, the streetlight shining on his tarnished gold hair. “Ruvan, for that you were sent to find the good.” He knelt at the fallen angel’s side. “You need to find your compassion. Find the good in the world.” He smiled. “It’s there. God willing, you will see it again.”

  Rue said nothing. Michael rose. He stripped off the trench coat, dropping it in Rue’s lap. A shuddering rush of wind and his wings flared, nearly twenty feet wide and the color of shimmering moonlight. Rue shivered, the muscles in his back tightening.

  Michael nodded, pulled off his sunglasses. Eyes like liquid silver glowed. “I’ll see you soon.” His voice thrilled like electricity through Rue’s body.

  Hunched over, Rue didn’t speak. When he looked up again, the Archangel was gone. Rain hammered; a metallic tattoo on the fire escape overhead. He shrugged into the coat, sliding the sunglasses into the pocket. The scent of myrrh rose from the leather, bringing a lump to his throat. It smelled like home. He wrapped the coat around himself, tucked his hands up the sleeves, and lulled by the spreading warmth and the scents of home, drifted off to sleep.

  * * * *

  “Are we certain this will work?” Simeon’s voice dripped concern.

  Michael turned from where he still watched Rue huddled in the coat now from the place between the worlds. He wondered if the fallen angel could feel his presence still? Or had humanity lost the ability to sense the divine? “Nothing is ever certain,” he replied in response to his colleague’s question. “That is the nature of free will.” He gestured to their fallen comrade asleep now in the darkness, the lines of bitterness smoothed from his face. “Ruvan is human now. He has all the ability to choose.”

  Gabriel strode forward to peer at the sleeping man. “He is strong,” he assured them, his eyes blazing like twin suns. “He has always been strong.”

  “And stubborn,” Nathanial added. They turned to the lord of the judges at the Gates of Hell. He was an unremarkable figure compared to heaven’s princes. He did not have the gleaming eyes, the throbbing voice that could strip the flesh from men, the divine glow that wreathed them in eye-watering glory. He’d stood at Hell’s Gate for millennia, he and his judges, weighing the souls who passed by sentencing them to heaven or Hell. And it was on his judgment they now relied. “I trust that stubbornness will ultimately help our cause.”

  Sim snorted, crossing his arms. “I hope you are right.” The weight of warning pressed down around them. Nathanial simply nodded. Sim turned and in a bright flash of light disappeared—flashing from the plane of mankind back to heaven.

  Michael shook his head. “Nathanial….”

  The judge held up one hand, a simple gold band gleaming in the streetlights. “I understand. He’s worried. So much is being left up to the free will of one man.” He looked back through the veil between the worlds at Rue. One side of his solemn mouth tipped up in a humorless smile. “Have faith, Michael. I do.” He nodded to Gabriel, then stepped between the veil himself, returning to Hell’s Gate and the interminable line of souls waiting for him.

  Gabriel and Michael stood in silence for a few moments, their silver and gold eyes watching the man on whom all their hopes rested. “I wish we could tell him,” Michael murmured.

  Gabriel shook his head. “You know why we cannot.”

  He nodded. “Yes. It just doesn’t seem fair to use a colleague as a pawn.”

  Gabriel clapped him on the shoulder. “The greater good, Michael. It’s for the greater good. You know that, I know that and Rue will eventually come to know that.” He looked up to the clouded skies. “It’s all changing and we need to be ready for it.” He gestured to the man before them. “He will understand and approve when this is all done.”

  “Provided he chooses rightly.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Have faith, my brother.”

  Gabriel smiled and gestured Michael before him. “It’s all we have.” A flash of light saw them from the world of men back to the halls of heaven. They had more to prepare.

  * * * *

  She thought she was losing all the circulation in her wrists. The plastic Jewel bags dug in a little deeper as she struggled to shift just one more into her left hand so she could reach her keys. Dan was supposed to be on the lookout. She’d told him she was going to the grocery store. She hissed out an annoyed sigh, blowing one strand of irritating hair out her face. If she could just shift the bag with the milk…. She felt the thin plastic slide, felt it cut into her flesh and begin to split. “No, oh no….” Serafina bobbled, trying to save the milk, knowing deep down the gallon of two percent was a goner.

  A hand shot out to save the bag right before it gave way. She turned with a grin and froze, her fingers numb from the weight of the groceries, her mind numb from finally meeting him face to face. Mackey’s guardian angel, his hair a tarnished gold, his eyes hidden behind black wraparound shades, stood there, probably wondering if the blood had gone from both her wrists and her brain.

  “Ah, thanks,” she managed, mentally kicking herself in the butt for staring at him like a high schooler. She jerked her head toward the shop’s back door. “Dan is supposed to be looking out for me, but –” a fresh surge of irritation had her kicking the door “ –he’s obviously goofing off!”

  “Allow me.” The man’s voice was low and deep. She thought he was going to try and open the door, which wouldn’t work since it was locked, but her fingers tingled when he lifted the bags from her overloaded wrists. She saw him give a slight frown at the deep red furrows the bags had cut into her skin.

  She gave her wrists a quick rub then tugged the keys and opened the door. “If I weren’t so stubborn,” she laughed, “I’d have taken two trips.” She gestured down the alley. “It’s always such a pain when the car’s parked all the way down there, especially in the winter.” She waved him into the small break room. “Just drop those on the counter. Some of them go here, some upstairs.”

  He nodded and deposited the bags.

  “Thanks,” she held out her hand. “I’m Serafina, by the way. Serafina Kinnock, but most people just call me Fina.”

  He shook her hand and she felt the hard ridge of callous. “I’m Rue.”

  She waited a beat, but no last name was forthcoming. She smiled again, jerking off her watch cap to toss it on the cluttered countertop. “Thanks for the help, Rue.” She could hear Metallica screaming in the next room and rolled her eyes. “My cousin had better be hard at work finishing the rest of my lights.” She could almost feel Rue backing up toward the door, ready to make a break for it. She didn’t want him to run, didn’t want him to disappear into the bright winter sunshine like he had into the sleet that misty day, a couple of weeks ago. She picked up the coffee pot, rattled it. “The least I can do is offer you a cup of coffee, and you have to come see my shop.”

  His lips curved up in a tiny smile. It was such a sad smile, churning her imagination into overdrive. Finally, he tugged off the sunglasses. His eyes surprised her. With all that blonde hair she expected lighter eyes—blue or green, not a brown so dark they appeared black.

  “Take a seat.” She gestured to the old ice cream parlor table she’d bought at a flea market and refinished. “I’ll make us some coffee, then show you my shop.” She filled the pot, measuring the grounds carefully. “I’ve seen you around a few times.” She jerked her chin in the direction of the Spider’s Den. “I know Joss and Herm.” She smiled, “In fact, Joss just asked me a couple days ago if I had anything that would wow Aisha for their anniversary.” She knew she was babbling, but she also knew instinctively that if she stopped talking, he’d bolt.

  “Do you have something?” his quiet voice broke her train of thought.

  Serafina nodded. “I’ll show you.” She grabbed the frozen items from the bags on the counter, shoving them into the little freezer in the staff fridge. Seriously, her cousin had to lay off the Ben and Jerry’s, she decided, tossing two mostly empty cartons in the sink to make room. “Let’s let th
e coffee brew and I’ll give you a tour.”

  He followed her through the door into the shop proper. She could feel the reluctance coming off him in waves. She didn’t know exactly why this man intrigued her. She’d seen him a handful of times over the last couple of weeks. The first time had been in the sleet when he’d first given Mackey change. Afterward, she’d almost missed him. He’d acquired the long leather trench coat and shades, but he still stopped to give Mackey money every time. Once, she remembered watching out the shop window as he’d paused, hand in his pocket, at the spot were Mackey usually sat. She wanted to tell him that Dan had taken the old man to the shelter early that day. It had been bitterly cold and they’d been worried he’d freeze to the bridge. Rue’s momentary pause had stirred something in her. For a split second, she just knew she was looking at a kindred spirit. By the time she’d gotten out the door, he’d been gone. Up and over the bridge, and nowhere to be found.

  She wasn’t going to let him get away so easily this time. She felt a connection to him and she wanted to know if it were truly there or a product of her always-overactive imagination. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, hands fisted in his pockets. “What do you think?” She spun gesturing to the whole shop.

  Dan, up on a ladder again, ear buds in again, despite the loud music, twisted. She saw his foot slip. Saw the ladder tilt. And there was nothing she could do about it.

  Rue moved. No, moved wasn’t the word. Rue seemed to flow. One moment he was at her side; in the next he grabbed Dan, bracing him so he wouldn’t crack open his head. Both men went down in a graceless heap.

  Serafina’s pulse bounded in her throat, pounded in her head. No, not a migraine now, she begged. I really don’t have time for one right now. She raced to her cousin’s side. “Are you two all right?” Her hands flew over her cousin’s face, his arms.

  “Get off, Fina, I’m fine.” Dan flushed, his cheeks red with embarrassment and humiliation.

  “Rue, are you…?” Her hands brushed his face and the words dried up in her throat. She could feel the scratch of whiskers, though his hair was light enough she couldn’t see them. Those intense dark eyes of his pinned her, freezing her hands and words. He looked so lost. For a crazy moment she wanted to lean in....

  “Jesus Christ, Fina,” Dan scrambled to his feet, “you nearly gave me a heart attack!”

  “Don’t,” Rue’s voice sliced through the raging.

  Serafina’s hands dropped away, a blush burning her face. She let him help her to her feet. “It’s ok, Rue, really.” She glared at her cousin. “If you’d had the music at a normal volume you would have heard us.” She flung a hand out toward the fallen ladder. “What kind of idiot has the music cranked and earbuds in?”

  Dan kicked the ladder. “God, Fina….”

  There was a hint of steel in Rue’s voice when he broke in. “I asked you once, now I say again I will not tolerate such blasphemy.” He turned that dark gaze on Dan. “Do not take the Lord’s name in vain again.” The words rang a warning through the sudden silence.

  The bell over the shop door jingled. Joss hesitated on the threshold. Serafina couldn’t tell if it was surprise at seeing Rue or if he could sense the sudden tension that filled the room. She ignored both men, turning to her customer. “Joss,” she smiled. She took his hand, pulling him toward the first case Dan had finished lighting. “I was just telling Rue that I had the perfect anniversary gift for Aisha right here.” Rue took the hint she threw and wandered away from her cousin. Dan’s face looked angry, but slightly puzzled as he bent to pick up the ladder and his scattered tools.

  Light swam over the creamy pearls. Joss whistled. “Man, Fina, they’re gorgeous, but,” he shot a worried look at her, “they’re real, right?”

  “Of course, they’re real.” She opened the case and pulled out the necklace. Pearls, cold, heavier than they looked, poured into her palm. “They’re freshwater pearls. That’s why they’re so irregularly shaped.” She played the necklace back and forth in her hands.

  Joss looked like he was going to reach for them, then stopped himself, shaking his head. Snow melted, dripped from the ends of his dreads to spatter on his shoulders. “Nah, Fina, they’re gorgeous, but they’re way outta my league.” He looked up at her. She saw the regret in his eyes. “I can’t pay what these are worth.”

  She shrugged and turned toward the antique desk she used to check out customers. “Then pay what you can.”

  He continued to shake his head. “I can’t do that to you. You’re too nice as it is.” He glanced over at Rue who had stood silent as a statue the whole time. “Serafina’s our own little angel, round here.” He gestured back toward the window. “You know she mother hens old Mackey out on the bridge most every day. She knows all the kids who dance on the street corners in the summer by name and hires them to wash her windows while she lectures them about staying in school.”

  She stuck her tongue out at Joss as she finished wrapping the necklace in pale green paper. “I’ve seen you do your share too.” She handed him the package. “Joss can never turn away a girl scout.”

  He laughed and handed over his credit card. “That’s the cookies, woman, not charity.”

  “Uh huh,” she snickered.

  “I need to go,” Rue murmured. He nodded to Joss and Serafina. Dan gave him a half-hearted wave.

  “Thanks for the save, dude.”

  The door closed on Dan’s words.

  “What up, Fina?” Joss asked with a jerk of his head toward the door.

  She shrugged. “Nothing. Brainiac here,” she gestured to Dan, “was supposed to help me with the groceries. He didn’t hear me pounding on the door and Rue gave me a hand.”

  Joss nodded. “Fina, you gotta charge me more than that,” he protested the number on the credit slip.

  “Just sign the receipt, Joss. And tell Aisha I said happy anniversary.”

  He shook his head. “You’re going to run yourself outta business you keep up like this.”

  Her mind was already off the sale. “Do you know anything about him?”

  “Rue?”

  She nodded.

  He gnawed on his bottom lip. She wondered if he knew something, he just wasn’t telling. Finally, the artist shook his head. “Nah, not much. Dude doesn’t say much even when he’s in the chair.”

  Dan sidled up to the conversation. “I didn’t see anything obvious. What’s he getting?”

  Joss didn’t answer; he looked lost in thought. Serafina wondered what had brought Rue to Joss—maybe it was the religious leanings. Fina knew that Joss’s left forearm had a beautiful angel, wings outspread, sword in hand, a rosary wrapped around his wrist to drape over his hand. His right forearm had a devil, all sly grin and dancing flames. She’d asked him once about his art. He’d told her they represented the two halves of man—good and evil with the head and the heart in the middle always being fought over. She’d been charmed by the story. What could Joss’ left arm have to do with Rue? Was he getting an angel tattoed on him?

  Her imagination spun into overdrive.

  Maybe a tribute to a tragically dead younger sister? Maybe a reminder to follow the path of good after years of giving into temptation? Maybe….

  Joss’ voice brought her back. “Sorry, man, if the art’s not out in the open, I gotta assume a client don’t want to advertise.”

  Dan looked a little disappointed.

  Serafina knew just how to distract her cousin, “Dan, I forgot to tell you. I needed room in the freezer so two of your ice cream cartons are in the sink.”

  “Fina!” He squawked and ran back to the kitchen area tossing a “See ya, Joss,” over his shoulder.

  “Seriously, he should weigh five hundred pounds,” she muttered.

  Joss reached out to cover her hand with his. “Fina, I don’t know the dude’s story, but honest, there’s something odd about him. I don’t know exactly what, but there’s something off. Don’t do anything stupid, ok?”

  She smiled. “I’m ju
st nosy,” she assured him. “Now, get home and make sure you tell me how Aisha likes the necklace, ok?”

  He paused a moment longer before shooting her a grin and leaving.

  No, she was just curious. She remembered Rue’s sad smile, his surprisingly dark eyes, and his odd warning to Dan. She was just curious, wasn’t she?

  CHAPTER THREE

  He had shelter now. A room in what was called an SRO, single room occupancy building. The tall red brick building a few blocks away from the college teemed with other men: men whose luck had turned to the worse, men who struggled against the darkness in their own souls for redemption. Rue filled out the paperwork, startling the older black woman behind the desk with his lovely handwriting, and answered all their questions.

  Yes, he was homeless.

  No, he had no family.

  The physician in charge of the physical had given him a clean bill of health, shaking is shaggy white haired head, murmuring about how he was in such good physical condition for being on the streets.

  He was now the owner of a small room complete with bed, dresser, large mirror and refrigerator. He supposed he should put something in the fridge. He ran a hand over his chin. The growth of new whiskers scratched his palm. He was partial to Pepsi. He liked the way the bubbles burned. Maybe he’d get some to put in the fridge? A glance at the clock on the wall told him dinner was being served in the communal dining room. He could wander down and help himself. He shook his head. He was uncomfortable yet with the other men.

  Rue could no longer see the sins of the men around him. He’d lost that ability with his wings when the Seraph princes had sentenced him to his punishment. However, he’d been on the job for a terribly long time. He knew, deep in his bones, that many of the men who sprawled on the couches in the SRO’s lounge idly flipping channels were fighting with and against themselves every day.