The Fallen 4

by Thomas E. Sniegoski

  To keep the forces of darkness at bay.

  The darkness surged in a last-ditch effort to envelope the light, but the light of life spurned these advances. It shone brighter and brighter still, burning the creeping shadow from its domain.

  Aaron’s cold and nearly lifeless body began to glow like the sun. The fire of God rushed through his veins and out his pores, encircling his body in an aura of divine brilliance.

  Aaron watched as the Darkstar spiraled from the sky. He could see that his enemy’s armor had been practically eaten away. Left behind was a pale, naked man shivering upon the ground.

  Descending like an emissary of the sun, Aaron approached his fallen foe, who knelt, face buried in his hands, shivering.

  “Please,” the Darkstar said softly.

  The thought of this thing asking for mercy refueled Aaron’s anger. He brought forth a sword.

  “Please, Aaron,” the Darkstar begged pathetically, and Aaron readied his burning blade to strike.

  The Darkstar slowly turned his frightened gaze to him, and Aaron froze as he looked upon his opponent’s face, the face of the one who threatened to bring darkness to the world.

  The face of the one who had taken his friend’s life.

  The face of the Morningstar, his father.

  * * *

  Vilma clutched the hilt of her sword of fire and descended toward the fearsome dragon.

  This is how it’s supposed to be. This is why I’m here, why I’m Nephilim.

  The dragon had panic in its large yellow eyes, and looked as though it were going to attempt escape. But Cameron flew down past the spew of burning venom to slice at one of the dragon’s leathery wings, taking away its ability to fly.

  Melissa targeted the areas underneath its thick armorlike scales, beneath its chin, and around the primordial animal’s eyes, where its flesh was unprotected.

  In a way Vilma felt sorry for the great beast. It had probably never dealt with Nephilim before.

  But then she saw her opportunity. If she remembered Lorelei’s lessons correctly, the weakest spot on a dragon was the inside of its cavernous mouth. The flesh was soft, and through it was the best access to the beast’s tender brain.

  Seemed simple enough.

  Yeah, right.

  Melissa and Cameron circled the now grounded beast; it fluttered its injured wing, gazing in rage at the rips and tears caused by the Nephilim’s weapons. It opened its mouth to spit death at its attackers.

  Those two are something to behold, Vilma thought as the two Nephilim flew about the dragon’s head, building its anger and causing its caution to slip.

  That was what Vilma needed to make her approach. She paced her attack, eyes locked upon her target.

  Waiting.

  Melissa zipped past the beast’s face and sliced one of its eyes.

  The dragon tossed back its head in a cry that propelled a plume of fire at least twenty feet into the air.

  Vilma drew her wings to her body and dropped like a stone toward the monstrous animal. She knew, through Lorelei’s teaching, that the dragon needed some time for the flammable venom to collect within the glands inside its cavernous mouth.

  The dragon continued to rage. As the fire began to diminish, Vilma made her move, flying into the dragon’s open mouth.

  Vilma didn’t want to be inside the beast any longer than she needed to be. It stank like death and gasoline within the monster’s maw. At the back of its mouth, just behind its rows of yellow, razor-sharp teeth, she watched as two balloons of flesh filled with the volatile poison.

  The tongue upon which she stood flexed and writhed beneath her feet as the great reptile registered that something was inside its mouth. A bellow of surprise came flowing up from the back of the dragon’s throat, stinking of powerful stomach acids. The scent of its last feast passed across Vilma in a fetid breeze. She knew she needed to act, and get the job done before…

  The swollen venom sacks began to quiver, preparing to empty. Vilma took her sword of fire, blade pointing toward the roof of the dragon’s mouth, and thrust with all her might through the thick cartilage and up into the monster’s brain.

  Vilma immediately felt the dragon convulse. Its mouth began to open in a final death scream, and she sprang across the fleshy tongue and flew out from between its wailing jaws, a stream of igniting venom following her out into the open.

  Outflying the fire, she spun in the air and watched as the dragon collapsed in a twitching heap upon the school grounds. She heard Melissa’s and Cameron’s cries of victory, and was giving them the thumbs-up when she caught sight of something not far from where she hovered.

  Flying closer, she saw Aaron and what appeared to be Lucifer. Lucifer’s arms were outstretched, as if pleading with her boyfriend.

  Begging for help.

  She watched as Aaron approached, his weapon disappearing.

  Then something distracted her, something that chilled her to the very bone. All around the edge of the forest crouched monsters of every conceivable size and shape.

  As if waiting for something to happen.

  The words were pouring from her mouth before she even realized she was speaking.

  “Aaron, watch out—something isn’t right!”

  No truer words had ever been spoken.

  * * *

  His father was begging him for help.… How could Aaron not go to him?

  Aaron stepped toward the Morningstar, wishing his sword away as his brain was overrun with a million questions: Where have you been? What happened to you? Why did you kill Lorelei?

  Lucifer beckoned, and Aaron began to kneel.

  “Aaron,” his father began, his head bowed weakly. But something in his voice made the hairs on the back of Aaron’s neck stand at attention.

  The Morningstar raised his face to look at Aaron, and smiled, his eyes filled entirely with darkness. That was when the Nephilim noticed the shadows. They flowed all around them and covered his father’s body.

  Forming new armor.

  Every instinct screamed as Aaron’s wings unfurled from his back.

  From somewhere above he heard Vilma’s cry, and was glad to know that she was safe.

  “Aaron, watch out—”

  He sprang from the ground as his father—clad again in glistening black armor—came at him, a sword of ebony fire in his hand.

  “Something isn’t right,” was the last thing that Aaron heard as his father’s sword struck him. He tried to bring about his own weapon, but he wasn’t fast enough.

  Aaron watched in horrified fascination as the black blade pierced the flesh of his stomach. The cold was all-encompassing, freezing every aspect of his being as he gazed between the sword protruding from his body and the grinning face of the one who wielded it.

  “A savior no more,” said a voice that did not belong to his father, and the blade drove deeper.

  Aaron could do nothing as the numbness spread through him. He slid from the sword blade to fall upon the ground. In his mind a voice screamed at him to get up—to fight—but no matter how hard he tried, his body would not answer.

  Aaron felt himself slipping away, sinking deeper and deeper into the cold darkness, as he realized the truth of what had finally happened.

  The battle was over.… They had lost.

  And darkness took him by the hand and led him down into oblivion.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Vilma felt a part of herself die.

  She’d yelled to warn Aaron, but Lucifer had been too fast.

  All she could do was watch as the blade was thrust into his body. Vilma screamed, hoping that it was all a horrible nightmare and that the louder she screamed, the quicker she would wake up.

  But she wasn’t asleep. It was all really happening.

  And there was nothing that she could do.

  “Like hell,” she wailed, an anger the likes of which she had never known burning through her body. At that moment her human side completely gave way to the angelic—the wa
rrior inside her.

  Empowered by the wrath of God, Vilma descended upon the scene, a spear of divine fire taking shape in her hand.

  Below, the armored Lucifer raised his weapon of shadow again, preparing to bring it down upon the helpless Aaron’s skull.

  Vilma let her spear fly, and the flaming javelin imbedded itself in the ground between Lucifer and Aaron.

  Lucifer started to back away just as the spear exploded, setting a line of fire in the earth before him.

  Vilma landed in a crouch beside the man she loved.

  “Aaron,” she called, praying for some kind of response, but he was silent. The blood that stained his lower body made her swoon.

  “Oh, my God, Aaron.”

  “He isn’t listening,” came a voice from behind the wall of divine fire. Vilma glanced up to see Lucifer’s armored figure striding through the lapping flames toward her. “You can call for Him all you want, but He will not answer. God has left this place. He’s left this place to me.”

  Hands beneath Aaron’s arms, Vilma attempted to drag him away. This could not be Lucifer but something somehow wearing his form. And he was coming closer, with a legion of monsters at his back.

  He stopped, smiling as he looked at the fire that surrounded them, the stink of death hanging heavy in the air.

  “Surrender to me now, and I promise to make your end swift,” the imposter said.

  “You can go to Hell,” she spat.

  “Too late,” he replied. “Already there.”

  Their adversary spread his wings and flew at her. Vilma barely had enough time to call upon her own weapon as she prepared to defend herself and Aaron.

  There suddenly came a spray of foul-smelling liquid, and a thick viscous fluid rained down upon the armored figure and his monstrous soldiers. Vilma jumped back, grabbing Aaron beneath his arms and pulling him away as well. She looked skyward to see Melissa and Cameron flying overhead, dumping liquid from two fleshy sacks onto their foes.

  Vilma suspected that she knew what they had done, and that suspicion was verified when the liquid exploded into flames. Melissa and Cameron had removed the dragon’s venom sacks and spilled their incendiary contents onto the Nephilim’s enemies. Not only did the imposter burn, but so did the monsters that had been awaiting their opportunity to pounce.

  Vilma dragged Aaron away from the volatile dragon fire. Melissa was the first to land to help her, followed by Cameron.

  “Is he all right?” Melissa desperately wanted to know, bending over beside the unconscious Aaron. “Vilma? He doesn’t look so good. We should—”

  Vilma had to think quickly. With Aaron incapacitated, she had to take the reins.

  “We don’t have any time,” she interrupted, glancing toward the wall of flames and the silhouettes that thrashed within them. “You need to get out of here.”

  There was a crackle of energy beside them, and Vilma spun toward it with a knife of fire at the ready. Cameron and Melissa were ready to fight as well.

  But it was Gabriel. He held Dusty’s bloody hand gently in his mouth, so that they could travel together.

  Vilma gasped at Dusty’s condition. Everything that they’d worked so tirelessly to achieve was all falling apart.

  “Did you find Lorelei?” Vilma asked, forcing aside her escalating panic.

  Gabriel did not respond, his dark eyes fixed upon the body of his master.

  “Gabriel, listen to me!” Vilma cried.

  The dog’s eyes shifted to hers.

  “No, just Dusty,” the Labrador said, his canine voice trembling. His eyes shifted back to Aaron.

  Vilma had no idea what had happened to Lorelei, but seeing Dusty, she doubted that it was anything good.

  “We have to get out of here,” Vilma said, again looking toward the fire. It was only a matter of time before the monsters reassembled.

  “Where?” Cameron asked.

  “We need to split up,” Vilma said. “Make it difficult for them to follow us.”

  “But where should we go?” Melissa asked, nearly in a panic.

  “Someplace safe,” Vilma said. “Dig deep into your memories. There has to be a place from sometime in your life, before all of this, where you felt absolutely safe, where nobody could touch you.”

  She looked at them all, making sure that they truly heard her.

  “That’s where you need to go.”

  “What about you? What about Aaron?” Gabriel asked.

  “Don’t worry about us,” she said, scanning the fire. The armored figure who had wounded Aaron had manage to douse most of the flames on his armored body, and was rising to come at them.

  “You need to go,” she said.

  Cameron started to protest.

  “Now!” she screamed.

  From the look on Cameron’s face, he didn’t like it. None of them did, but they didn’t argue. Cameron wrapped his wings about himself and disappeared.

  Melissa prepared to do the same. It looked as though she wanted to say something, but words seemed too hard at that moment, and instead she blinked out of sight after Cameron.

  “I’ll see you again,” Gabriel growled, leaning his mouth down toward Dusty’s hand. “Promise me you’ll do everything you can to keep Aaron alive.”

  “I promise,” Vilma said.

  With that the Labrador took Dusty’s hand in his mouth. His body at once began to glow, sparks of fire flying from his yellow fur, and then they too were gone.

  Vilma watched the armored figure clomp across the scorched earth, beckoning to her with an outstretched hand. Lucifer’s face had been severely burned, but she could see that it was already healing.

  “This is done, Nephilim,” the imposter said in a wheezing voice, vocal cords raw from the heat of dragon’s fire. “Surrender your life to me and know peace.”

  Peace, Vilma thought, taking Aaron’s body in her arms. She needed to go someplace where she had known peace. Someplace where she had been loved. Somewhere she’d felt safe, before the darkness had fallen and nightmares had become reality.

  Vilma flexed her wings, bringing them around to take her and her love into their embrace. Vilma wondered if that place could still exist.

  She hoped with all her heart that it did.

  * * *

  Lucifer was falling.

  Deep within his psyche the Son of the Morning felt all the misery that the Darkstar had inflicted.

  Lucifer had managed to hold on until now. Bombarded with memories of his past, the enormity of his failures, he’d been buoyed by the belief that there was the slight chance at redemption.

  He needed to find a way to survive and reclaim his body.

  But Satan had other plans. The Darkstar wanted Lucifer gone, wanted to leave behind only the memories of Lucifer’s terrible acts.

  Satan wanted to leave behind what Lucifer had been, not what he had been in the process of becoming.

  Satan had made Lucifer watch what he was doing. The Morningstar had felt the murder of Lorelei—poor, sweet Lorelei. Lucifer had tried to fight Satan, but it had all been for naught.

  It had almost been cause for him to let go, to drift down into the darkness of his psyche until he ceased to be.

  But the Morningstar had been determined to remain strong and avenge Lorelei against the dark creature that had taken up residence in his body.

  The Morningstar had had hope.

  And that’s exactly what Satan fed upon.

  When Aaron had arrived, Lucifer had thought that was the tipping point he’d been waiting for. His son, their savior and Redeemer, would triumph.

  Darkness now closed in tightly around Lucifer, and he fell deeper into its cold embrace. He did not want to remember what Satan had done to his son.

  Aaron had been going to save them all. He and his Nephilim had been set to rid the world of darkness.

  But the Darkstar had had other plans.

  Lucifer pulled the black of oblivion about him like a shroud, not wanting to see—not wanting to rememb
er.

  Shuddering in the grip of shadow, he recalled what had been shown to him. What he had been forced to experience.

  Lucifer had felt every blow, every searing blast of divine fire, and wished that it had ended the threat of Satan—that it had ended him.

  But the creature had lured the boy in close, using the face of the boy’s father.

  My face.

  Lucifer had experienced the horrific sensation of his blade being plunged deeply into the stomach of his son, murdering Aaron Corbet—as if by his hands.

  My hands.

  It was more than Lucifer could stand, and he retreated deeper into the darkness of his being.

  So deep that all would be lost.

  As if he’d never existed at all.

  * * *

  The Darkstar closed his eyes and sighed with pleasure as the being once called the Son of the Morning surrendered. What a glorious sensation it is, he thought, that much closer to totally possessing the body he had grown so fond of.

  It wouldn’t be long now.

  He felt their eyes upon him, and turned to see the gathering of monsters that had answered his summons and were eager to expunge the last threat to their supremacy.

  They had come and born witness to his capability.

  Satan felt their beady eyes upon his personage. A part of him still didn’t trust these creatures and was waiting for another attack, but there was something in the air of this place, something that told him that things had changed.

  The armor of darkness had reformed upon his body, and before his audience’s watchful gaze Satan placed the helmet upon his venom-scarred head and gazed at the nefarious multitude. Then he forged a sword as black as pitch and raised it high above his head.

  “Hail Satan!” The chant spread through the gathering of beasts.

  “Hail Satan!”

  At last they recognized their savior.

  “Hail Satan!”

  He who would give them the world that had once belonged to God’s chosen.

  “Hail Satan!”

  The Darkstar walked amongst them, still holding his blade of night high above his head. As he passed them—the trolls, goblins, wraiths, and demons—they lowered their heads in reverence, dropping to their knees as they were touched by his passing shadow.