Ascent of the Fallen

by Rebecca L. Frencl

  The note exploded into a shower of silver ashes that melted away to nothing before they hit the floor. He raised his head to the ceiling, murmuring, “Thanks, Gabriel.”

  * * * *

  This was much more the thing, Rue decided two nights later, swinging the celestial blade through the quivering mass of demonkin at his feet. They melted, the pool sucking in on itself before dissipating. He knew not even a stain would be left for the dawn sun to burn away.

  “New toy?” Asmoday stepped from the darkness, an unlit cigarette twirling in his fingers. He circled Rue, keeping out of the reach of the weapon. “That’s got Gabriel’s fingerprints all over it.” He shook his head. “Sure, it’ll take out a few demonkin.” He spat, the spittle sizzling on the shining silver blade. “Don’t think it’s got enough juice to take on a full demon, though.”

  Rue shifted the blade, catching the light in the darkness. “Care to try me?”

  The demon chuckled. “I’m not one for pure confrontation. I prefer subtler methods.”

  “Trickery.”

  He shrugged. “Whatever works.” He tapped a finger to the outstretched blade, the sizzle of burning flesh rising to Rue’s nose. Asmoday closed his eyes for a moment, as if savoring the sensation. He lifted his burning finger to his cigarette. Sour smoke curled to the dark sky. His eyes, red as rubies, pinned the mortal. “Whatever works seems to be a common theme. You seem to be what works right now.”

  “What are you....”

  “Are you actually asking me questions?” He shook his head, laughed. “You must be desperate.” He cocked his head to the side as though weighing a few options. “Tell you what, Rue, I’ll give you some answers, but I want something in exchange, just a little favor.” He put the cigarette to his lips breathing deep, making the tip glow like a coal in the night. “Just a little tit for tat.”

  Rue snarled. “I don’t need any help from you, demonspawn.”

  “See,” he said, crushing the butt under his foot, “that’s where you’re wrong. You need to see if this is the right thing for you and the best way to do that is, well....” He snapped his fingers, opening a large hole in the fabric between the worlds. “All you have to do is survive. If you don’t,” he grinned, “say ‘Hello’ to your brothers at the Gate.” With a wicked chuckle, he disappeared.

  A tentacle slipped out of the portal, followed by another and another. A full sized demon, one of the creatures from the Greek Hells that he recognized, oozed out into the alleyway. A creature of Kaos, once worshipped as a Titan, but in truth a demon of the deepest degree, rose to its full height of ten feet, its twelve tentacle limbs twitching in anticipation of the first fresh meal it’d had in centuries.

  Rue rolled and sprang to his feet, the barbed limb slamming down where he’d been standing. The creature was large, but slow. He slashed and stabbed, the celestial blade slicing great gashes into the thing’s flesh. Purple-black blood flowed. The street grew slippery. A tentacle slipped through his guard, slamming into him and driving him to his knees. Azrael would not appear out of the shadows to save him this time. He was going to die, smashed and digested slowly in the deepest pits of the Greek Hells by this monster.

  Another tentacle wrapped around his ankle and began pulling him, with awful slowness, toward the snapping beak buried in the nest of tentacles at the base of the thing’s bulbous head.

  Serafina, Joss, Fina’s annoying cousin Dan and his sweet girlfriend Chloe, even Herm, Mackey and Locust swam in front of vision. If he gave up and died, what would happen to them? Would demonkin keep creeping out of the shadows? Would one of them be dragged next into the Abyss by one of the creatures? A sudden vision of Locust or Herm dragged by greasy black tentacles into darkness spurred him to action and sent a renewed strength through him.

  Strength fueled by fear for them flowed from the heavenly sword. He had to succeed, and would, for them. He twisted, lopped off the tentacle dragging him backward. Leaped to his feet and turned, willing all his strength, all his hope and all his heart into his strike. It was not only skill, but conviction that lent strength to the bearer of an angelic sword. It came to him with sudden clarity and time seemed to slow. He could see just where to strike. With a murmured prayer, he whirled one last time.

  Big demons apparently melted into huge puddles of evil sludge that slipped back through the portal. Rue hoped the goo rained down on Asmoday’s head. He could feel dawn approaching now. He used the blade to will himself clean and refreshed, then shrunk it to fit in his pocket. What had Asmoday been trying to accomplish with that little trick? Had he been trying to kill him just for fun, or was there something more sinister behind the test and the demon’s taunting words?

  CHAPTER TEN

  It’s amazing, Serafina mused, how we can adapt to almost anything. She tied the shimmering silk scarf around her head and headed downstairs to open the shop.

  Minutes had turned into hours. Hours to days and days to weeks. The weeks had flown by since she’d first seen the shadows smudging the edges of her X-ray. March had roared out like a lion leaving April to slink into the city, hardly lifting its head. Harsh winds had howled in the tunnels created by the skyscrapers ripping the heads off the tulips brave enough to peek above the tops of the huge cement planters along the streets. Eventually, though, spring tiptoed in from the west, softening the winds into mild breezes, coaxing hyacinths and crocuses into dancing gently in place. Sunlight danced on the building spires and glittered on the lake. Buckingham Fountain sparkled like a thousand diamonds in the spring light.

  Propping open the door to the shop, she paused on the doorstep to take a deep breath. The sharp scents of the city, grease and gasoline mixed with the smell of earth and green growing things. The large planter Dan and Rue had put together as soon as the weather had broken made her smile as it always did. She brushed fingertips over the top of a parrot tulip, noting the miniature rose beside it was starting to swell at the tips. A tiny seasonal garden. For as many seasons as she had left.

  She watered the plants and wandered back into the shop, flicking on display lights as she went. She knew she had about an hour before the meds kicked in and she was on her knees in the bathroom, so it was best to get as much done as she could before that happened. She shook her head again at her blasé acceptance now. It hadn’t been that easy a few weeks ago.

  To please herself, she scanned the auction sites in London. She’d never been, but it had always been a dream of hers to fly over and score some European treasures for her Trove. She’d always thought, “Later.” On impulse, she hit a few buttons. Within in ten minutes she had two tickets to London on hold and reservations at the Strand Palace Hotel near Covent Garden. She felt her heart hammer in her chest. Would Rue go with her? Shaking her head, feeling her stomach give a slow roll to the left, she figured she’d worry about it later.

  As if on cue, Chloe wandered in. She heard her cheery, “Morning, Fina!” as she bolted back up the steps to be sick in the comfort of her own bathroom.

  Twenty minutes later, she sprawled on the couch a cool damp cloth over her eyes and concentrated on breathing. Chloe would be fine downstairs for the next hour or so. Fina knew she’d be able to eat in a little while. Then she’d been good to go until the next round of meds. Repeat process. She groaned. Was she crazy? How could she even think about traveling out of the country when she couldn’t even get to the grocery store half the time? She pressed her hand to the rag. The last thing she needed to do is worry about ralphing all over a seat mate at thirty thousand feet. Snorting a weak laugh, she sat up and froze.

  Rue stood in the doorway shadow silent, his dark eyes shattered. “What is it?” she asked, feeling a lump lodge in her throat in sympathy.

  He shook his head. “I just hate seeing you hurting.” His low, liquid voice sent a shiver race down her spine. Vaguely, she wondered if she’d ever get used to it.

  “Well, there’s nothing anyone can do about it.” She shoved herself to her feet, heading toward the kitchen.
>
  “I’ll make you something to eat. Why don’t you go rest?” He reached out, ran his hands from her shoulders to her wrists.

  A little spark of resentment flared. “I’m tired of resting.”

  “Let me, Fina,” he whispered, tugging her closer, his lips a breath away from hers.

  She tightened her mouth, ignoring the flutter in her heart. “I’m not an invalid yet!” she hissed, yanked away. She felt his hands tighten momentarily on her wrists, but he let her go. He’d been so gentle, so understanding, so kind... and she was sick of it. “I am not going to fall apart any second.”

  “Serafina ….” Rue approached her, hands open, eyes bewildered.

  She slashed one hand down in scathing negation. “No, Rue. Not this time. You’re not going to soothe me out of this mood.” She shook her head, feeling the exhilaration of temper spiking through her pulse. “You, Dan, Chloe... everyone, you’ve all been treating me like I’m going to shatter if you say two cross words to me.” She waved toward the stairs. “Hell, Rue, you and Dan were ready to tear into each other a couple of weeks ago and now you won’t even look cross-eyed at each other because you’re afraid you’re going to upset poor little Fina.” Her voice rose. “I’m sick of it! You’re all going to stop it right now! Right now you’re going to knock off all the touchy feely crap and go back to the way it was before.”

  Footsteps pounded up the stairs. Dan burst in, a scowl marring his thin face. “Fina, are you –?”

  “Get out!” she shouted.

  Dan skidded to a halt, narrowed blue eyes flicking from Fina to Rue. The frown deepened and he glared at the man standing silently in front of his cousin. “Did you hurt her?”

  “I –”

  “That’s exactly what I’m talking about!” She grabbed a pillow from the couch and whipped it at her cousin. “Everyone’s afraid of hurting Fina.” Another cushion flew, whapping Rue on the side of the head. “Called my uncle to pay all the bills, huh, Dan? Don’t worry Fina about running her own business.” He started to explain, but a pillow across the mouth shut him up quick enough. “Unh-uh. I don’t care if you thought you were being nice having your dad deal with all that stuff. It was my problem – not yours. You called my mom! My mom!” Her voice rose to a shriek. She knew deep down she was being ridiculous, a shrieking harpy, but it felt so wonderful to let loose. She couldn’t rein it in if she wanted to and she didn’t want to. “It took me three days to get rid of her and did she ask how I was feeling the whole time she was here? No. All she was worried about what telling me how I was never going to make the store a success and trying to get Rue’s last name out of him while she had her own migraines.” Her head throbbed at the memory of her mother lying on her couch fingers pressed to her temples as she wondered if she should be going to the hospital to have her head X-rayed while she peppered Rue with questions.

  She whirled on him them. He’d been too quiet. “And that’s another thing, Rue Ahren, Why did it take my mother two days to pry your name out of you?” Whap! Another pillow slammed into the side of his head. She noticed Dan taking her turned attention as an opportunity to beat a hasty retreat.

  She heard him call to Chloe at the foot of the stairs. “Just leave it alone, Chloe, she’s on a tear.”

  She turned her attention back to Rue. “Well?” she demanded.

  He spread his hands in surrender. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

  She felt tears burn her eyes. They were just there, spilling down her cheeks. “The truth, Rue. I just want the truth.”

  The energy from anger drained as suddenly as it had appeared. She dropped to the naked couch, the springs hard under her. She wiped her eyes with shaking fingers and looked around, truly looked around for the first time in the last several minutes. Cushions, from the small decorative pillows she’d kept on the couch to the big seat cushions, lay scattered. One of the big ones blocked the doorway. She vaguely remembered heaving one at her cousin as he retreated. Rue stood bewildered in the midst of the chaos, his sun-browned face puzzled and his scarred hands spread in supplication.

  “I’m sorry.” Horror and not the meds made her stomach tremble. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into me.”

  A slow smile spread across Rue’s face. A dimple he denied having, winked in his left cheek. “I think it’s about time it happened.” He glanced over his shoulder, then bent to pick up the cushions. “You’re right,” he admitted, helping her put the room back together. “You’re right about it all. I should have given you a last name the first time we met.” He paused, hands twisting a decorative pillow out of shape. “I don’t have an excuse other than I was new here and trust –” he shrugged throwing the pillow where it belonged “ –didn’t come easy.”

  Laughter suddenly bubbled up, spilling out of her. “Oh, God.” She pressed a hand to her mouth. “I must have looked like a loony.”

  “Moderately.” He sat down, patting the newly restored seat next to him. “Now, what set that off?”

  She sank beside him, closing her eyes and just enjoying the warmth of the long line of his body beside her. “I was thinking that I’d never been to London and I’d always dreamed of going.” She opened one eye to peer at him. “I actually put a hold on two tickets to London for the end of the week. I was wondering if you’d go with me when I realized that there’s no way I can go now.” She shook her head, soft sorrow winging through her. “I suppose I wonder if I’ll ever make it there now.”

  The smile dropped off his face, replaced by a troubled frown. Rue’s eyes left her to go the large glass window that overlooked the street. He sometimes looked out there, a troubled expression on his face, his eyes moving as he searched the shadows for something only he could see.

  “What is it?” she demanded, sitting up to break his line of sight.

  The look he gave her was more than troubled; it was guilty. He shook his head, “Nothing.” He rose, breaking her grip on his arm.

  She wanted to grab at him, demand that he tell her what was on his mind. Something was going on in there and in the weeks she’d known him, loved him; she knew that she was no closer to learning all of his secrets though her life was an open book. Resentment bubbled cold in her stomach. She dropped his arm. “I’m heading downstairs to relieve Chloe. She’s got a class at ten and needs to get going to make it on time.”

  He nodded. “I’ve got to get to the job too.” He reached out to trail his fingers through her hair. “Stay safe,” he whispered over her cheek, his breath warming her. “I’ll be back later on.”

  Serafina nodded, not trusting herself to speak at the moment. She didn’t know what she’d say. Scream imprecations at him, demand to know everything about him, or melt in his arms with words of love. She needed to decide. And, she thought, locking the back door behind him, wandering out into the store to cancel two tickets to London, she needed to get back to work.

  * * * *

  Rue had found a job. Much to his surprise and delight, he’d discovered a talent for working with his hands. When Martha had told the men one evening in the TV room that a local construction company was hiring, he’d taken her up on the idea. It had afforded a way for him to move out from under Martha’s watchful eye and into his own place. She’d looked at him too closely the few times he’d crept in at dawn when he’d been demon hunting back then. That was one woman, he’d decided, who saw too much. Some humans did, he’d learned, even without the grace of the angels.

  He found, to his surprise that he liked the very physical labor involved in building one of the huge skyscrapers that towered like manmade mountains over the city jungle. Actually, they were working on a shorter building, an annex of sorts for the Ronald McDonald House attached to Children’s Memorial Hospital. He liked the intent of the place—a home away from home for the families of children stricken with illness.

  His home was a short train ride away, but he spent quite a few nights now at Serafina’s. It was a brief walk through the urban streets teeming with life
to the work site. He slapped his hard hat on his head and got to work, helping to guide the huge steel I-beams that formed the skeleton of the building into place.

  The work kept him busy and kept his mind off the vial so carefully stowed in his lunch box. He took it with him everywhere—even on his hunts in the lonely hours of the night. Afraid to leave it behind. Terrified to throw it away. He should bury it in the walls of the building. A treasure for a family in need to find.

  Even as such thoughts crossed his mind, they faded, replaced by Azrael’s gleaming golden gaze and the sight of Serafina’s red hair more in her brush than on her head. He still visited Holy Name on occasion. Still sat in the warm tinted sunshine, his head and heart so full of conflict he couldn’t form a prayer if his life depended on it.

  He paused, taking a long drink from the water bottle hooked onto his belt. He swiped his sleeve across his damp forehead.

  “I just love sweaty men,” the throaty feminine voice purred next to his ear and his crewmates whistled catcalls from their positions.

  Rue felt his body tighten in response and knew without turning what he’d see. “I have no time for the likes of you,” he murmured, freezing in place. He ran his thumb over his fingertips remembering once more the nip of a power that had once been his. His thoughts turned briefly, longingly to the blessed blade hidden away.

  “I told you he wouldn’t bite, Lilith.” Asmoday’s voice sounded more weary than amused. “Still toting around the little present I gave you, Rue?”

  He turned. Lilith, in a screaming red halter top and skirt that covered just what the law demanded, released him. She oozed in a classic hip swaying fashion to wrap herself around Asmoday. She played with his perfectly knotted tie and ignored the whistles from the men on the job.