The War in Heaven (Eternal Warriors Book 1)

by Vox Day

  He wasn’t sure what he should do, or what he should say to the stranger. A vision of Vampire: the Masquerade suddenly entered his mind, and even though he knew it was silly, he couldn’t stop himself from looking the man over for any clan signs that might identify him as one of the undead.

  “You agree with what?”

  Christopher wanted to ask him who he was, and what he was doing in Christopher’s bedroom, but there was something eerie about the stranger that convinced him he might be better off knowing as little as possible about the man. Was he some kind of psychotic serial killer? Or was it possible, just maybe, that he was something even worse. Or maybe he was just some kind of homeless druggie that had been hiding in the closet.

  “With what you’ve written. It’s a little on the puerile side, of course, but your thinking does show a remarkable degree of sophistication for one who has not yet been to college.”

  “Do you think so?” Nope, not a homeless guy. How had he gotten in here without making any noise?

  “I would not have said so otherwise.” The man smiled widely, exposing a normal set of gleaming white teeth. “It’s most impressive.”

  “Well, thanks, I guess.” Christopher realized he was staring at the mirror rather than the man, but he couldn’t pull his eyes away from the empty space that shouldn’t have been empty.

  “You’re very welcome.”

  The stranger smiled again as he turned and followed Christopher’s gaze to the mirror behind him. Christopher tried to pretend he hadn’t noticed anything, but he was too slow.

  The man without a reflection turned back to face him.

  “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “You’re wondering who I am. What I am. And I imagine you’d like to know what I’m doing here in your bedroom.”

  Christopher nodded and tried to look cool and unconcerned.

  “Yeah, that would be nice, I guess.”

  “Let me tell you then, that I am not, as you fearfully suppose, a man with psychotic tendencies. Nor am I one of those lifeless beings you call vampires. Name me rather of those ‘puissant legions whose exile hath emptied Heaven.’”

  Christopher, much to his surprise, recognized the quote, having made use of it only yesterday on the second page of his paper. The recognition pleased him, even as he laughed at the absurdity of the man’s remarks.

  “Oh, so you’re not a vampire, just a fallen angel, right? One with nothing better to do than help me with my paper?

  “I am not unoccupied at the present time, but otherwise, you are correct. I am an angel.”

  Christopher laughed again, though he didn’t know if it was at the man for being crazy or just because he felt so freaked out by the missing reflection. “That’s not how they do it on TV, you know. There’s supposed to be this, like, soft glowing light and you should talk with an Irish accent. You know, like that chick with the brown hair does it. ‘Christopher, I am an angel.’”

  The stranger cleared his throat and arched a slender eyebrow. “I am of, shall we say, the other team. We do things differently, as you might imagine.”

  “Oh, that’s cool. So what do you want to do? Rewrite my paper, and we can just put on the cover, what, co-writers me and, what’s your name, Satan?”

  The fallen angel laughed, genuinely amused.

  “O ye of little faith! I think you’ve done rather well on your own. A little on the short side, perhaps, but your teacher will no doubt be impressed by your reasoning, though likely a little disturbed at your conclusions. However, I did not come to help you, but to ask for your help.” He nodded towards the screen. “My name is Kaym, and it is my honor to serve that Prince of whom you have been writing.”

  “That Prince… you mean, like, Satan?”

  Reflection or no reflection, Christopher found this last statement hard to swallow. He wasn’t a stoner, and although he knew his imagination could get carried away at times, this seemed a little off the deep end. He didn’t really believe in God or in the Devil, although sometimes, late at night, after listening to too much Marilyn Manson or seeing a particularly freaky movie, he was willing to consider the possibility of the latter.

  “He is a Prince, yes. Though not of darkness, Christopher, I assure you. My lord is the bright shining one, the Dawn Prince, the glorious Prince of Light. And He needs your help. I need your help.”

  “For what?”

  “For storming the gates of Heaven.” Kaym held up his tattooed hand, forestalling an interruption. “You see, you, Christopher, are the key that unlocks the door.”

  Christopher folded his arms and leaned back against his chair.

  “Hold on a second. According to everything anyone’s ever told me, you don’t exist. You can’t exist, it’s not scientific, you know? You can’t expect me to take your word for it, to believe that you’re some kind of… demon or whatever.”

  “Then don’t take my word for it. Put me to the test. Let me tell you something about yourself that a human imposter could not possibly know.”

  “All right, I guess I will. Let me think for a second…. Okay, here’s one. I played soccer in junior high, so, tell me how many goals I scored against Breck in eighth grade?”

  “A fair test, and I shall answer you. You scored six. You and another boy, Greg, were tied with three goals apiece after the first three quarters. But you scored three more times in the last period, while he scored no more. The final score was thirteen to nothing, I believe. An auspicious number.”

  Christopher was shaken by the accuracy of the man’s answer, but was unable to let go of his unbelief.

  “How did I score the last one?”

  “The last boy on the other team, the goalie, as you call him, made a mistake. He was supposed to kick the ball far down the field, but he kicked it directly to you. It was an easy goal, and you laughed at the boy.” Kaym laughed himself and shook his head. “It is sad, but that game has been the great triumph of your petty little life thus far.”

  He smiled sympathetically.

  “There is nothing about you I do not know, Christopher. I know your likes and dislikes, your strengths and weaknesses. I know that which you love and that which you hate. I have seen you cry, alone in your room, when the rejection of this world overwhelmed you, and I have watched your overheated dreams, as you burn with adolescent fever in the deep of the night.”

  Christopher abruptly stood up, his face flushed red with embarrassment. If this Kaym could see his dreams…. He did not like what he was suggesting, not one little bit.

  “You have no right to do that!”

  “Are you sure of that? What do you know of the spiritual world, Christopher? A moment ago, you told me that I could not exist. Now you would tell me what rights I hold?”

  Christopher glared at the strange angel for a long moment, hiding his deep embarrassment behind anger. Then he sighed abruptly and returned to his chair, and indicated that Kaym could take the other one.

  “You’ll have to prove it. I mean, it’s possible that you could have found out about that soccer game from someone else, like Greg or somebody.”

  Kaym grinned, his mouth twisting sardonically.

  “Do you really think that’s likely?”

  Christopher, his mortification fading along with his unbelief, grinned back. Despite his fear, he was starting to like this angel, or devil, whatever he was.

  “Well, no, not really. I always thought Sherlock Holmes had it backward. You know, that whole, ‘once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth’ sort of thing. If something’s either impossible or improbable, I’d go with the impossible. I don’t believe in the supernatural, but it’s easier for me to believe in all that stuff than that a grown man would bother to find out what happened in a junior high soccer game. And besides, how could you know that I’d ask about that anyhow?”

  “My point exactly. But unlike some, I have no problem with doubters. If it would pl
ease your conscience to test me again, please feel free to do so.”

  “Thanks. I will.” Christopher thought for a moment, then his face flushed again. “Well, you said you’d seen my, what did you call them, ‘overheated dreams’, right? So tell me who I was dreaming about last night?”

  The fallen angel stared at him levelly. Then he burst into sudden, cold laughter, an icy sound that was not, however, without a degree of real amusement.

  “I declare, you are a youth after my own spirit, Christopher. Did you think to trick me?”

  Christopher shrugged. “I thought it was worth a try.”

  “Surely, surely. Then know that your dreams last night were not your usual ones of the lovely Anna McCall, her blue eyes and golden tresses. You had a nightmare, an evil one that caused you to wake violently.”

  Christopher whistled softly and rested his chin on his hands. His mind was whirling, for Kaym had indeed spoken the truth about the previous night. He shuddered at the awful memory of darkness, blood, and broken glass.

  “Okay, that’s, like, wow!” He shook his head. “I’m not saying I believe you, of course, but do you angels read minds or what? How do you do it?”

  “Fallen angel.” Kaym ignored the question as he corrected Christopher. “Or rebel angel, if you prefer.”

  “Fallen angel, sorry. Well, if you’re real, I’ve got a ton of questions I’ve got to ask you. Like, is there really a God?”

  “Of course. Though he isn’t as involved with humanity as most of you would like to believe.”

  “And you’ve already said there is a Devil. How about Heaven and Hell?”

  “There is a Heaven, yes, although I have not been there in a very long time. There’s no such thing as Hell though. Not as such.”

  “Ha!” Christopher exclaimed. “I knew it!”

  Kaym raised a cautioning hand.

  “You have much to learn, and it is best if you do not leap to conclusions too quickly. Much of what you have been told, and much of what you have been taught, is simply not true.”

  “Do you mean, like, the Bible? I know it’s not true. Nobody who’s educated believes that it’s, like, the word of God or anything.”

  The fallen angel shook his head.

  “You will have to readjust your thinking. What you call the Bible is in fact the word of God. But what you do not realize is that the word of God is worthless.”

  Christopher, perplexed, raised his eyebrows.

  “You mean that God really wrote the Bible, but it isn’t true?”

  “It is said, Christopher, that winners write the histories. When the Prince was tricked into leaving Heaven, many lies were told about him. Some of them were collected into a book and passed down through the centuries. There is much truth to be found in what we call the Sefer Shekrei, the Book of Lies. But truth about my Prince, or about the first war in Heaven, there is none.”

  Kaym returned his Raybans to his face, then stood and extended his hand, his palm facing up in supplication.

  “Come, we have much to talk about, but this is not the place. There is little time, and before we go to meet the Prince, there is someone I would have you meet.”

  Christopher looked down at the angel’s hand, at the dragon’s body writhing around Kaym’s hairless forearm. In the black lenses of the angel’s shades, he could see himself reflected twice, two teenage faces staring back at him, full of doubt and fear. But the dark plastic also showed a promise of fantasy and adventure, wilder than those in any book he’d ever read. In the end, the fantasy was stronger than the fear, and Christopher reached out for the hand held out before him.

  The angel’s hand was unexpectedly cold, and Christopher nearly let go in a frightened moment of panic. For a second, it felt as if he’d taken something clawed and skeletal in his grip. But the disturbing sensation disappeared, and when he looked down, he could see that Kaym’s long-fingered hand was smooth and warm. Then, without warning, the world went black around him.

  Chapter 3

  Daughter of Devils, Mother of Kings

  In the twilight, in the evening, in the black and dark night:

  —Proverbs 7:9

  Christopher found himself standing hand-in-hand with Kaym inside a crowded building, a tumultuous place filled with shadows, metal, and the stale scent of cheap tobacco. Something about it seemed familiar, and his eyes narrowed as he noticed the outline of a silhouetted woman dancing like a writhing snake behind a lighted green screen on a raised stage. He smiled with pleasure and nodded his head. Now he knew where he was. The coolest nightclub in Minneapolis. He’d always wanted to come here, but without a fake ID, he’d never been able to.

  The loud music was deafening, a palpable ocean of electronics washing over the masses of moving people as the jungle drums pulsed like breakers on a sensually primordial beach.

  “Kooler than Jesus,” a distorted voice whined again and again, as if chanting a dark incantation over the heads of the dancing mass of people. “I’m the electric messiah!”

  Kaym released his hand, and peered through the crowd as if looking for someone. The people surrounding them were mostly young men and women, though they were all older than Christopher, whose pale blue oxford and khaki slacks stood out amidst creaking leather jackets and tight vinyl pants. This place was clearly a nightclub of sorts, but what they were doing here, Christopher could not imagine.

  “What are we doing here?” he yelled over the noise at the fallen angel. Kaym was nodding his head in time with the beat, but didn’t reply as he continued to scan the crowd.

  The floor was painted black, matching the wooden walls and ceiling, but it was sticky with sweat, spilled drink, and cigarette ashes. Even through his shoes, the sensation was gross, and Christopher tried unsuccessfully to use the edge of a nearby stair to scrape away the residue from the bottom of his loafers. Two women, their pretty faces striped with black gothic makeup, walked by and looked Christopher over, wondering at his presence in a place he clearly did not belong. He smiled at them, but that only gained him a raised eyebrow and an audible sniff before they moved on in search of older, more suitable game.

  When he looked back at Kaym, the angel had disappeared, and Christopher sighed, wishing he could have changed his clothes before coming here. Maybe the women wouldn’t have been any more interested in him, but he might have blended in better, saving him from the curious stares that were occasionally directed his way. He considered hiding in the shadows under the nearby stairs, but decided that it might be easier for Kaym to find him again if he stayed where he was.

  “O, my darling Phaoton, there you are!” he heard a female voice cry over the music, and he looked up, surprised, to see a gorgeous woman moving quickly towards him with her naked arms extended. “I have waited so long for you to wake, so very, very long.”

  Christopher stared at her, his mouth hanging open, wondering who on earth she was. But he only had time to take in a pair of green slanted eyes set amidst a wild mass of crimson hair before her arms enfolded him in a crushing embrace.

  She was exactly his height, and gave off a stirring scent of cinnamon and vanilla. Nor did he mind the fact that she was enthusiatically covering his face with kisses. Not at all.

  “Is that Obsession you’re wearing?” Christopher asked stupidly. He was, of course, extremely taken aback, but was not at all put out with her enthusiastic greeting. “And, uh, by the way, who are you?”

  She pulled back from him, with a horrified look of dismay on her exotic face. It was only then that he noticed the horns on her forehead. They were, he thought, cute little horns as horns go, but horns nonetheless. Definitely horns.

  “The AC/DC god!”

  “He doesn’t remember you, Melusine,” Kaym said, walking up behind the devil-girl. “Nor will he. For him, this is only the beginning.”

  She released him and stepped back with a devilish pout on her divine face. As she let him go, Christopher felt both relieved and devastated. He stared at her not knowing what to s
ay, and saw her slanted eyes were bright with anger as she glared at Kaym.

  “But you said—“

  “I said I would allow him to see you,” Kaym interrupted severely, unfazed by the devil-girl’s temper. “I promised nothing, nor have I offered ought else. Are you blind, Melusine? He is still sightless from the shadows of this earthly cave.”

  “Hey, that’s Plato, right?” Christopher said knowingly, nodding his head and trying to act cool in front of Melusine. It didn’t seem to work though, as neither Kaym nor the devil-girl seemed to hear him.

  The furious expression on Melusine’s face vanished, replaced by abject gratitude. “I beg your pardon, Lord Kaym. Forgive this poor wretch, I beg you. I was only excited to see my golden one again.” She bowed deeply before the fallen angel, who acknowledged her apology with a faint nod.

  Christopher barely noticed this though, even when Melusine turned back to him and favored him with a dazzling white smile, thanks to the tail that her bowing had revealed, a barbed red tail that extended more than a foot past her short black miniskirt.

  “My dearest, darling Christopher, I am so sorry. It’s just that I have waited so, so long for us to be together again. When Lord Kaym told me that you were to return into the true realm, I was so happy I nearly screamed!”

  Christopher had no idea how he should respond to her, and her lashing tail disturbed him a little, but not enough to keep him from talking with the most beautiful woman who’d ever shown any interest in him. Well, maybe she wasn’t a woman, but Melusine was so pretty he didn’t care if she was really a frog. So he kept his mouth shut, smiled at her, and looked desperately to Kaym for help.