Ascent of the Fallen

by Rebecca L. Frencl

  “Now do you understand why I said you made a mistake?” Naya’il waved a hand, vanishing the cigarette and the smoke, leaving nothing but the lingering scent of incense on the air.

  “I think it’s for the best that I give up judging, Naya’il.” Rue finally admitted sinking down to the couch. “I just realized how harsh I’ve been for the past century or so.” He shook his head, fisting his hands in his own hair. “Nathanial shouldn’t want me back.” He paused, thinking for a moment on Nathanial, the Angel of vengeance and fire, the Archangel who oversaw the judges at Hell’s Gate. He’d been the one to suggest Rue’s punishment for zeal to Gabriel and Michael. He’d urged them to this course of action. “He was trying to get rid of me all along, wasn’t he?” Despite his decisions, despite his resolve, he felt his heart flutter as regret and betrayal surged through him.

  Naya’il gave a disgusted snort. “By the light, Ruvan, you’ve always been stubborn. It’s one of the traits I’ve always admired about you. But –” Naya’il reached out grabbing his shoulder forcing him to look up “ –don’t be a fool. Nathanial sent you down here so you could find your compassion. So you could see, really see, what it was like to be human. So you wouldn’t judge those who had loved – ” he gestured to the room behind them, the room that still smelled of sex and woman “ –to the pits with those who had abused and twisted love.” He smacked Rue in the chest, knocking the man back. “It’s not the same. Something you now know, but –” those burning eyes flared “ –the other judges don’t.”

  “Nathanial wants me back?” Something stirred deep inside him. His shoulders itched, muscles twisting. Indecision as sharp as a blade sliced into him.

  Naya’il knelt before him. “Nathanial understands what it is like to despair, to think nothing but evil of mankind.” The angel took a deep breath. “He also understands what it is like to walk among the humans, to live, to love and to bring that compassion back to the judges.”

  Rue’s breath stopped up in his lungs. Seconds ticked by until spots danced in front of his eyes and he realized he’d forgotten to breathe. Several things clicked into place, pieces to a puzzle he didn’t even know he had been looking at. “Nathanial?” His voice squeezed past the shock.

  Naya’il nodded. “It was more years ago than even you can count, my little judge.”

  He shook his head. Confusion, desire, regret, and shattered contentment swirled inside him, a messy stew that he admitted could only prove his humanity now. “I don’t....” he trailed off, his eyes going to Serafina’s door. His heart ached, actually ached, to think about leaving her behind, yet there was a different kind of ache, perhaps deep in his soul, at Naya’il’s words.

  “It’s a test, Rue.” Cold hands rested on his. “You knew it when you saw me.” He patted the man’s hands, leaning back. “You have a choice to make. You thought you’d already made it after Anieal came to you. You didn’t have all the pieces yet. I’ve given you more.”

  Naya’il rose, gathering his long cloak around him. Light from the streetlights outside shadowed the hollows of his cheeks. “I’m still missing a piece or two, aren’t I?” Accusation shaded Rue’s tone.

  “You always were quick.” Naya’il gestured to the front window. “Keep your eyes open. You never know when another piece of the puzzle will fall into place.”

  Rue went to the window, pressing his hands to the cold plate glass, eyes trained on the street below. He saw nothing but the street, the bridge, and the huge bronze statue of a woman, her outflung arms turning to wings against the dark heavens. He turned back to ask, but Naya’il had vanished. With a frown, he decided to tuck it all away for a while. He had a warm woman waiting in bed.

  Cold prickled over the nape of his neck making his hair rise. He glanced back over his shoulder at the street. A shadow unfurled from the base of the statue and coalesced into a form with amber eyes and wings of purest night. He and Azrael stared at each other for a breathless moment before the Angel of Death nodded once and disappeared into shadows.

  He stood waiting, the prickling at his nape telling him it wasn’t over yet. Out of the blot of darkness at the statue’s feet a deeper darkness stirred. A sliver of light and inky darkness spread, flowed like water from the statue. Another entry point, another demonkin escapee. The flow rose, stretched and shivered to become a man in a long coat, a hat pulled down over his eyes. The figure paused, then looked up at the window. Rue caught only the flash of sharp white teeth in the moonlight before it slithered off into the city. Quivering with rage, his hands pressed flat to the window, wishing he could blast the demonkin to ashes, Rue slipped to the floor, eyes trained on the deep darkness of the demon door. He would wait. Dawn’s light should close the door. If it didn’t, there was a much larger problem than the decisions roiling in one judge’s heart.

  * * * *

  She woke to a cold bed. Serafina sighed, snuggling deeper into the pillows. Rue was gone. Part of her knew he would be. With a resigned sigh, she slid out of bed reveling in the aches that told her the night before hadn’t been a dream. She slipped into her robe and wandered out into the kitchen thinking coffee might clear away some of the cobwebs left behind by a sleepless night.

  He stood at the window silent as a statue. He was dressed, though his feet were bare. Warmth spread through her. She had been all ready to face the morning without him and here he was. She stepped up behind him to wrap her arms around him, pressing herself against his solid warmth. On tiptoe, she kissed him behind his ear, feeling him shiver against her. “Penny for your thoughts?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was low, broken.

  Puzzled, she pulled away, tugging on him until he turned around. “What are you....” She trailed off when she saw the oversized envelope in his hand. She must have left the X-rays on the coffee table the day before. She’d remembered to stash the pills in her underwear drawer, but the X-ray hadn’t fit. She’d tossed it on the table before crawling into bed.

  “Why?” His free hand caressed her face. She leaned into the touch, closing her eyes, not wanting to see the fear and sorrow in his eyes.

  “I just found out yesterday,” she whispered. “I hadn’t even thought it all through myself. I couldn’t....” Her voice broke.

  She heard the envelope hit the floor as he pulled her into his arms. She held him tight, not wanting to let him go. “Serafina,” His words tickled her ear. “Tell me what you want. Tell me how I can help. I don’t have much, but all I have is yours if you need it.”

  She pulled back and saw relief on his face that she was dry-eyed. “Rue, all I need from you is this.” She squeezed him. “I just need you to love me or at least pretend.”

  He shook his head. “It wouldn’t be a lie.” His hands pressed her to him. “I should have said it yesterday, but I didn’t want you to think I was just saying the words. I thought I should wait until the light of day.” She couldn’t take her gaze off him. He looked so serious, so intense, sunlight shining through his hair, haloing him from behind. “I love you, Serafina Kinnock.” He tightened his hold on her. “I love you with everything I was, everything I am and everything I will become.”

  She swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat. “I –”

  The front door swung open. Dan, whistling, a pink bakery box tucked up in one arm, froze in the doorway, eyes narrowing.

  The box hit the floor and Dan moved. Fina found herself pushed behind Rue, pressed against the window at his back. “Dan!” she shouted in horror as her cousin rushed forward.

  “You son of a bitch!” Dan fist connected with Rue’s chin, snapping the taller man’s head back.

  She shoved between them, though she noted Rue hadn’t made a move to defend himself. “Jeez, Dan! Knock it off!” She shoved her cousin back.

  “Fina, if you think….”

  “Back off! Rue’s here because I want him to be here. It has nothing to do with you.”

  “Serafina,” Rue’s quiet voice stopped her. She turned. He reach
ed out, catching her hands in his. “I think you should talk to your cousin.” He looked behind him, giving the fallen envelope a pointed glance as he shoved into his shoes. “You shouldn’t burn any bridges right now.” He looked over her head to Dan. “I’m quite certain I’ll speak to you later, Daniel.”

  “You can be damn sure of that,” Dan muttered.

  Serafina tried not to blush as Rue brushed a kiss over her mouth. “Come by after closing.” She smiled, knowing her cousin was growing fangs behind her. “I still owe you my lasagna.”

  He nodded, kissed her again and swung his coat up around his shoulders.

  After the door shut behind him, Dan turned his glare onto her. “What was that all about?” He flung one hand out toward the door. “You tell me yesterday you’re too tired to talk to me after your doctor’s appointment, have me worried out of my mind that there’s something bad wrong with you, only to come here this morning and find you playing tonsil hockey with that guy?” He pulled at his hair. “Jesus, Fina, you don’t even know his last name! No one does. I talked to Joss about him and all he knows is that he goes by Rue.” She shook his head. “Do you know where he lives? Do you know what he does for a living? Does he even have a job?”

  “Dan,” she pressed one hand to her head. She could feel the beginnings of a headache. She had a handful of pills she was scheduled to take and her cousin was shouting at her so much she could hardly think straight. “Dan, listen to me....”

  He didn’t seem to hear her. “He could have killed you and robbed you blind. He could have a wife. Hell! He could have two wives. He....”

  “Loves me!” Serafina shouted, cutting off his tirade. “He loves me.” She could feel tears press against the backs of her eyes. “Is that so hard to believe?” She whirled away from Dan to stare down at the street and bridge before the tears could fall. Mackey sat there as always, the bright red scarf she’d given him a cheerful beacon against the cold day that didn’t even hint that spring was supposed to be around the corner. Fear made her hands shake as she pressed them against the glass. Her head gave a frightful pound. Would she even be here in the spring?

  She heard him shuffle his feet behind her. “What a mess,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, Fina. I’m sorry.” She turned back. He gave her a helpless shrug. “He just weirds me out.” He grinned. “Of course you’re loveable.” He slung an arm across her shoulders. “I love you, cuz.” He gave her a one armed squeeze. “To prove it, I’ll let you make the coffee.” He turned to pick up the bakery box he’d dropped in his zeal to punch out Rue. Checking inside, he shot her a grin. “Not too bad.”

  She bent to pick up the X-ray envelope. “Dan, I need to show you something.”

  The grin fell off his face. “That bad?”

  She took a deep breath and gestured to the box. “Bring the sugar. We’re going to need it.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Rue pushed his hands deep into his coat pockets, feeling them curve into fists as he stared at the huge bronze gothic doors at the front of the cathedral. They were metal, though fashioned to look like heavily carved planks of wood.

  “They weigh more than a thousand pounds each, but are able to be moved by a single finger.” He stiffened at the creature’s words. “Humans are so clever.” A sharp crunch, the sweet scent of fruit. Asmoday quirked one blond brow at him, gestured with the apple in his hand. “Want a bite?”

  Rue returned the demon’s smile with a stony glare of his own. “I suppose not.” The demon blended beautifully with the lunchtime crowds. He nodded to the church. “You going in?”

  “You are not welcome here, creature,” the fallen angel growled. His fingertips tingled with remembered power. When he’d had his wings, he’d have been able to blast the Deciever back to the pit from whence he came.

  “Can it, Ruvan.” Asmoday finished the apple, tossing the core over his shoulder. “You don’t have the juice anymore.” He sat on the steps of the church, patting the cold stone next to him. “Pop a squat, mortal. I have a proposition for you.”

  “I have nothing to say to the likes of you,” he insisted, though he sat. He knew Asmoday could make him very uncomfortable just for fun.

  “Wise.” The demon tipped his sunglasses down his nose. “Now, I know what you’re going to say. Get thee back, demon, and all that other nonsense, but at least hear me out.” He rolled angel blue eyes. “If the boss says to talk to you, Ruvan, I talk to you.” His smile turned knowing. “Word in the realms has it you’re finding being human to your taste.” He leered at a young woman walking a trio of dogs on long leashes.

  “Get on with it,” Rue growled.

  “In a moment,” Asmoday’s gaze followed the girl until she and her charges strolled out of sight. “I mean, who could blame you? Those holier-than-thou types upstairs don’t know the benefits of a good roll in the hay.” He looked knowingly at Rue’s crotch.

  He forced himself to stay still. “The purest forms of love are beyond the physical.”

  Asmoday stared at him in silence for a moment as if tasting the truth of the words. “You still truly believe that, despite rolling around all night with the redhead.” He shook his head in admiration. “Man, you judges are made of some stern stuff. I told Luke you’re not going to go for this, but....”

  “Say what you need to say and be done with it. I have business of my own to conduct.” He looked back over his shoulder to the bronze doors of Holy Name.

  “Yeah, yeah, you’ve got some business to take care of before going back to bounce on the redhead some more.” He leaned back on his elbows, tipping his head up to the wan sunlight. “I don’t blame you. She’s a fine piece of ass.”

  He longed to grab Asmoday by the throat and throw him down the church steps, but he knew the demon was braced for just such a thing so he buckled down on the violent urge. Even so, his voice was strained when he spoke. “You will not speak of Serafina in such disrespectful tones.”

  The demon’s eyes sparked, with anger or amusement, he couldn’t tell. He leaned forward, his smile too much teeth for comfort. “Damn me, Ruvan, and you already have, but you do love her.” Rue remained silent. “Isn’t your next line supposed to be, ‘more than anything I’ve ever loved before,’ or something equally maudlin?”

  Conflict stirred in his soul.

  Asmoday fired up a large stinking cigar. He blew the smoke at the next baby stroller that happened by. With a cruel snicker, he turned back to Rue. “It almost hurts me to hear the back and forth inside you.” He stuck the cigar between his teeth and held out both hands, palms up like scales. “I love her so much I feel like I’m flying apart every time I’m in her arms.” His right hand went down part way. “The judges need me to balance them, so humanity isn’t unfairly punished for their crimes.” The left hand dipped. “If I leave her, she dies.” Down went the right. “She’s so good she’ll go to heaven and it’s really for the greater good.” The left dropped more. “It’s sad, isn’t it?” He jerked his head to the church behind him flicking ash toward a squirrel foraging nearby. “Going to pray for guidance?”

  “What would you know of prayer, demon?” He choked on the smoke, smelling tobacco and brimstone.

  “I’ve answered more prayers than you have, Ruvan.” Asmoday’s smile was pure evil. He was the deceiver and claimed to his credit a little trick with a snake and an apple back in the infancy of humankind. Rue could very well imagine Asmoday answering prayers in his own diabolic fashion. “Here I am,” he said, throwing the still-smoking cigar into the gutter, “to answer one of yours.”

  “I have not prayed to you and yours, Asmoday.”

  “And yet here I am.” He spread his hands. “I know what you’re going to ask. I can see it in your heart. Save her. Are you willing to bargain? Save her and you’ll return to the ranks of the heavenly hosts? Will you return to the Gate and please Nathanial by teaching his judges compassion and snatching souls from my master’s hands?”

  The demon’s words hit him like pebbles.


  “I have something better.” He snapped his fingers. “Semiazas has given me this.” The liquid in the phial gleamed moonlight white. “It can save her. You can stay here on earth with her. Live out your life, redeem this one small fall into temptation and be seated with the redhead among the heavenly hosts after death.” He tossed it. Rue instinctively made the grab, snatching the miracle out of mid-air.

  Semiazas, he thought, chieftain of the dark angels; king of those who had turned their backs on the light of heaven and found a haven in the heart of Hell. He turned to ask a question of Asmoday, but when he looked over, the demon was gone.

  The phial felt warm in his hand and heavier than it should be. Cold wind snaked around the corner, making the tips of his ears tingle. The restaurant across the street was doing a roaring lunch business; the scent of roasting meat wafted over, making his stomach clench. Sharp hunger pains, the nip of cold, the hard stone under his backside—all sensations Asmoday, Naya’il, Azrael and the others would never feel, have never felt. His stomach churned, a greasy roil that had him thankful he hadn’t eaten anything.

  He wanted to throw the glass bottle, watch it shatter on the stone steps, the miracle potion falling like tears. He wanted to shout defiance to Asmoday and his lords. His hand tightened on the phial, desire warring with duty.

  In the end, he shoved the little bottle in his pocket. With determined step he marched into the church at his back. The huge bronze doors slid shut behind him. He stood, eyes closed, breathing in the scents and silence. The weight of ritual settled on him, comforting as a pair of hands on his shoulders. He loved the old churches, ornamented, detailed, colored glass and carved stone. The old churches of Europe were lovely. He’d visited many of them when he’d had wings—from the famed churches of France to the decorated mosques of Saudi Arabia and the temples of the Holy Land. No matter the statues, the symbols, the languages… he’d felt the same light.

  He wandered up the nave, eyes on the carved crucifix suspended over the altar. Despite the agony of the pose, the face that looked back at him was serene. He struggled to find his own serenity. His own peace. The phial seemed to grow heavier in his pocket.