The Immortals Trilogy Books 1-3: Tales of Immortality, Resurrection and the Rapture (BOX SET)

by C. F. Waller

  My crimes are well documented, even though I have come to the aid of my immortal comrades every time they called. All this, even though I myself, am not one of them. If Gabriel won’t take me up, what happens then? Just join my likewise condemned friends for a swim in the lake of fire? Wouldn’t Balthazar love that.

  “Trying to survive the Agreement should be worry enough,” I groan as the light turns green. “A third trip to Hell has to be some sort of record.”

  Three blocks pass, then another log jam piles up the cars in every lane. I light a smoke and dangle my arm out the window. The passenger window on the green bubble car next to me rolls up, the woman’s face a scowl. Is it the car exhaust or the cigarette smoke?

  A shabby looking woman sprays Windex on the windshield of the car to my right, but the driver is waving her away. She keeps cleaning, eventually tapping on his window in hopes of a tip. The man looks away, pretending not to see her, which is laughable. I spin the cap off the whisky and take a long pull, exhaling when it burns going down. This will all be over in the blink of an eye, or maybe seven years, I never read the whole Bible.

  “Even though the important part for today is at the very end,” I grunt, honking the horn.

  The window wash woman nearly jumps out of her skin when the horn blares. I hold out my scan card in the direction of the open passenger window. She stares back, unsure what I am offering.

  “Take it,” I shout, wiggling it. “Go get something to eat.”

  “You want a wash?” she asks timidly, hand hovering next to the card, but not taking it.

  “Not even a little,” I shake my head. “Take the card and enjoy yourself. Today is not going to end well.”

  She takes it, then scurries away, stopping when she reaches the sidewalk to look back. The cranky woman in the green car watches the transaction wearing an expression of utter disapproval. Who are you to judge anyone? The light turns green and I flick my partially smoked butt off her window, then fly her the bird.

  “I’ll see you later today,” I smirk. “Standing in the line down below.”

  I roll up 9th Street then hang a left on 57th. A few minutes later traffic creeps past 8th and I hang a left, bringing me within sight of Columbus Circle. I pull up the sleeve of my leather jacket and turn my head to read the countdown. The number five is bright, the seconds ticking down quickly, yellow numbers scrolling by. Only five minutes.

  “I can’t afford to be late,” I mutter, cranking the wheel to my left and driving the Mustang onto the sidewalk.

  The horn honks, people screaming as they flee the scene. I maneuver around the few that stay, bouncing off the curb at the intersection of the Circle. Cars slam on their brakes and I clip the nose on a blue bubble truck while cutting horizontally across three lanes. The passenger side mirror is sheared off, dozens of horns pounded upon.

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  I roll over the curb, into the grass that surrounds the circle, then slam on the brakes. Horrified gawkers stare, some pointing fingers, others yelling. I key off the ignition, then climb out. A quick scan of the Circle reveals Gabriel and his assemblage of the dammed. I wave, then pop the trunk, pulling the shotgun out before letting the deck lid drop. Deciding it doesn’t matter, I leave the keys in the trunk lock.

  “Good bye old friend,” I kiss my hand then lay it on the Mustang. “God speed.”

  “What are you?” a man rushes up to me. “Crazy?”

  “Yeah,” I grunt, putting the dumb end of the gun in his face. “You want to talk about it? I have some repressed feeling about my mother that make me sad.”

  He backs away, taking another three would be citizens ready to jump me with him. Guns have that effect on people. The clock on my arm winds down under four minutes, so I toss the shotgun onto my shoulder and hop over the benches that circle the sidewalk. People scatter as I pass on the way to my date with Gabriel.

  “Miss Ben-Ahron,” he greets me. “A spectacular entrance to say the least.”

  “Meh,” I frown, nodding at my daughter and her father. “Nice to see you two made it.”

  Jennifer looks as she wants to hug me, but knows better. Arron forces a smile, his feelings for me now cemented as contempt. A full-figured woman, who I vaguely recall as Annie, smiles my way. She takes a glance over my shoulder at the carnage several times. Is this the scrawny waif Jennifer revived at the Estate?

  “Rahnee,” Edward offers, a tip of his head making due for a greeting. “Glad you could make it.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” I bob my head in Edward’s direction. “Hey Gabriel, you didn’t happen to leave a bottle of water in my car, did you?”

  “I did.”

  “What was I supposed to do with that?”

  “I thought you might take it with you,” he suggests. “It’s for Rhea.”

  “I drank it.”

  “Perfect.”

  “So,” I grunt, pulling up my sleeve with the butt of the shotgun. “Three minutes to show time Angel. What’s it going to be?”

  Archangel Gabriel

  I gaze upon the chosen few who the Lord has tasked for this undertaking. It wasn’t that long ago, a mere five thousand years, that the original bargain was struck. The Almighty cast out two Angels, then offered them forgiveness if they rounded up the flood survivors. All these years later, here I am trying to clean up the mess. He doesn’t make mistakes, but his creations are quite adept at it. There must be some unknown divine plan.

  “What’s it going to be?” Rahnee complains.

  “We have plenty of time,” I assure them.

  “I thought you said once the Rapture begins whatever’s in Hell, stays there,” Arron interjects. “You’re cutting this pretty close.”

  “Plenty of time,” I repeat, snapping my fingers.

  All at once the world goes silent. Cars moving around the Circle freeze in place. The arcs of water in the fountain look like ropes. A crowd of people milling about the Mustang halts, several with cell phones in their ears. New York’s diligent citizenry calling in the police.

  “He’s just going to stop time while we are down there,” Jenn contends. “Just like Balthazar did in Greece.”

  “Sorry, no, that’s not how this works,” I reveal. “When you go down, time will resume on its own.”

  “How is it you think we can get this done in three minutes?” Arron asks. “Is this just a smash and grab job or did you miscalculate?”

  “If you screwed this up, we should still get to go up,” Jenn argues. “It’s not our fault you can’t tell time.”

  They continue to complain as I watch, a hand on my chin. Mankind scatters into chaos at the drop of a hat. How any of them are truly saved by grace is beyond me? Scanning overhead, a pigeon flies in a slow circle, the only thing moving, aside from our group. I nod skyward, acknowledging my surveillance.

  The volume of the argument grows. After several minutes without me speaking, they run out of gas, standing in a cluster wearing annoyed expressions. The only one smiling is Miss Ben-Ahron, who is no doubt, aware of the particulars.

  “Why don’t you enlighten them,” I nod in her direction.

  “Yeah,” Jenn turns, looking suspiciously at her mother. “Enlighten us.”

  “Time moves slower down below,” she reveals, shotgun dangling from one hand. “Minutes are like weeks or months.”

  “Which is it,” Edward presses. “Weeks or months?”

  “It varies. The Underworld isn’t as neat and organized as up top. Satan likes to keep you guessing.”

  “So, you’re suggesting we have a few days or weeks to find Rhea?” Arron asks.

  “Stop trying to put a number on it. Time will be the least of your worries.”

  The handpicked team exchanges glances, taking in Miss Ben-Ahron’s revelation, pun intended. They should have plenty of time, but the Almighty didn’t want them to become complacent. Better to light a fire under them to keep them on task, pun also intended.

  “So, what’s the plan?” Jenn p
lows ahead impatiently.

  “Yes, how are you planning on getting us to Hell?” Edward frowns, putting an arm around Annie.

  “The gateway is in the fountain, so you will all have to step in,” I explain, pointing at the shallow water.

  “Kinda chilly for a swim,” Jenn winces.

  “Technically speaking my dear Jennifer, you don’t have to stand in the water,” I reveal. “Only those going down will have to do that.”

  “And that’s Rahnee, Edward, and Annie?” Arron grumbles.

  I nod.

  “Not tagging along?” Edward inquires, looking at Arron.

  “I guess not,” he crosses his arms over his chest. “Angel boy told me I couldn’t go.”

  The other four look to me, but I shake my head and point at the fountain. “If you would.”

  “So, we just stand in the fountain and wait for the elevator?” Annie asks, looking at the water in a tentative way.

  “Not exactly. Jennifer will drain your life force, rendering you lifeless. Once you’re dead, you’ll be sucked down.”

  “Hold on,” Edward balks. “No one said anything about being dead?”

  “You can’t possibly go to Hell alive,” I point out. “Only the dead may enter. You can’t take your bodies with you.”

  “So, our bodies will what?” Edward snorts. “Just float here until we get back.”

  I nod.

  Edward and Annie whisper between themselves, presumably debating this plan. Miss Ben-Ahron stands to one side watching. She already knows the drill.

  “How do we get back if she kills us?” Edward asks, pointing at Jenn.

  “Yeah, how’s that work?” Annie whimpers.

  “When the counter hits zero, Jennifer will return your life force, sucking you back.”

  “You’re positive that will work?” Edward eyes me suspiciously.

  “Yes, just watch the counter on Annie’s arm and make sure you’re holding on to her at the designated time. When the Rapture occurs, she will be drawn out of Hell. Anyone not in contact with her becomes a permanent resident.”

  “And you’d have to be no more than two levels down,” Miss Ben-Ahron injects. “In either the Waiting Area or the Cue.”

  “Yes, that’s most likely true,” I agree.

  “Most likely?” Jenn barks. “You don’t know for sure?”

  “I’ll defer to Miss Ben Ahron in this case,” I shrug. “She has far more experience in Hell than myself.”

  “The Waiting Area?” Annie recites in a soft voice. “What’s that?”

  “It’s divided up into levels,” Rahnee explains. “We will arrive on the first level. It’s just a wide-open space where the souls of the dammed stand around and wait for their number to be called.”

  “Like taking a number at the deli?” Jenn scoffs.

  “Not exactly. When they arrive, there is a red number on their palm. It flashes when their number’s called and they take the elevator down to the Cue.”

  “Elevator,” Arron chuckles.

  “That funny to you?” Rahnee grunts, the two of them clearly disliking each other.

  “A little.”

  “Used to be stairs, but it was already a lift when I went through the first time.”

  “Okay, technical sophistication aside, what is the Cue?” Edward asks, holding up a hand to stifle Arron.

  “Basically, a giant TSA line,” she explains. “There’s an infinite number of lines and you just pick one and wait.”

  “How long do we have to wait?” Annie asks.

  “It varies,” she shrugs, waffling a hand back and forth. “I waited just under a thousand years the first time.”

  “Ouch, a thousand years in a TSA line,” Jenn frowns. “That is Hell.”

  “We don’t have time for that.” Edward grunts.

  “No worries,” Rahnee cuts in. “We won’t have numbers, so we’d never get in.”

  “Why don’t we have numbers?” Annie asks.

  “We aren’t invited guests, which is good as we don’t want Satan to know that we’re there.”

  “What level is Rhea on?” Edward asks.

  “Three, the amphitheater is on three.”

  “She’s on display?” Annie shrugs.

  “Yes, level three is Purgatory. Dammed souls can get stuck there for thousands of years. The Fallen Angel exhibit is a very popular attraction.”

  “You’ve seen her?” Jenn exhales loudly.

  “Yes. If you recall she killed me prior to being sent down. Time is slower, so by the time you brought me back,” she pauses to nod at Jenn. “I had plenty of time to see the show.”

  “That must have been awkward for the two of you.” Arron chuckles, breaking the tension.

  Nervous chuckles circle the group like a wave at a sporting event. I gaze up and watch the pigeon circling slowly. I wave a hand, motioning the nosey bird away, but it remains, circling. As if these quibbling children were not a big enough headache, I have a tattle tale just waiting for me to screw up. The life of an Angel can be difficult.

  Chapter Five

  Rahnee Ben-Ahron

  “Alright, let’s get on with it,” I sigh, stepping forward and shoving the shot gun into Arron’s chest.

  He backs up looking tentatively at the weapon. Jenn reaches out to take it, but I pull it back and lock eyes on Arron.

  “I’ll take it,” Jenn begs, reaching for it a second time.

  “No,” I object, stepping past Jenn and forcing it into her father’s hands.

  “Why me?” he sighs.

  “Everyone goes down except you and Jenn. When the Rapture hits, she’s going to be pretty busy raising us from the dead.”

  “Still doesn’t explain the gun,” Arron complains, looking unsteady holding it.

  “The plan is to go down and bring Rhea back, right?” I grunt, looking back at Gabriel.

  He nods.

  “Any of you trust her?” I ask, pointing around the group. “Any of you bet all of eternity she won’t double cross us?”

  The assembled group exchange glances and shrug, then everyone but Gabriel shakes their head. No one trusts Rhea, and for good reason.

  “Right, so if she comes out of the fountain looking shady, blast her back to Hell with that,” I declare, pointing at the shotgun in Arron’s hands.

  “You can kill her with a gun?” Annie sighs, looking confused. “I thought she was a super hero or something.”

  “The shotgun shells are full of Hellfire,” Edward says. “Or they were.”

  “Five shots left,” I verify. “The fountain water won’t put it out, so be careful.”

  “We want you to bring Rhea back from Hell,” Gabriel recites. “Lighting her on fire would be a breach of the Agreement.”

  “Technically it’s not,” Edward points his cane at the angel. “We only agreed to rescue her. Once she’s up, our end of the contract is fulfilled.”

  “Yet, I must reinforce our desire for her to not be aflame.”

  “I’ll get her topside,” I assure him. “After that, she’s your problem. Let’s get this show on the road.”

  I step over the edge of the fountain and into the water. Chilly liquid pours into my boots. Annie holds the hem of her dress up as Edward helps her over the side. Once in the water, she bounces a bit, looking cold. Edward pauses, before stepping in, then stares at Jenn.

  “There’s three of us,” he tilts his head, pointing at Annie and myself. “I thought you couldn’t hold in the life force of one person, let alone three. You’re a conduit, not a container. At least, that’s what you told me.”

  “Yeah, I’ve had twenty years to practice,” she assures him. “Giddy-up.”

  “Yes, but there’s three of us,” he repeats, lowering one foot back to the pavement.

  Jenn looks frustrated, then turns to Gabriel, waving a finger at the frozen people around the fountain.

  “Pick one out that’s already headed down and unfreeze them.”

  “To what end?” he m
utters.

  “You can tell the difference, can’t you?”

  “Yes, but—.”

  “Just let one go,” Jenn cuts him off.

  Gabriel scans the frozen crowd and points at a middle-aged guy on a bench. He’s wearing a suit and tie, but has a sub sandwich shoved in his mouth. Jenn nods, then Gabriel points at the man, who awakens. He finishes his bite, then pauses, glancing around at the frozen multitude.

  “What gives?” he mumbles with his mouth full.

  “Right,” Jenn says, taking a deep breath. “Watch and learn.”

  She holds out her hand in the direction of the man, who is at least twenty feet away. He drops the sandwich, then winces as if something was hurting him. A red swirl of smoke slowly wafts around his head. Jenn wiggles her fingers and the crimson fog forms a line and crosses the gap between them, disappearing into her hand. After half a minute the guy slips off the bench, winding up face down in his lunch.

  “What happened to him?” Annie whines, his body slightly shrunken, the skin on his arms loose.

  “You weren’t even touching him?” Edward exhales.

  “I mentioned practicing, didn’t I?”

  “It’s still only one,” I challenge, not the least bit worried, but hoping she will repeat the demonstration.

  Jenn nods at Gabriel, but he shakes his head. She widens her eyes, indicating either a threat or annoyance. After a moment, he unfreezes a woman talking on her cell phone. She keeps right on talking, then lowers the phone and peeks around. Before she can get her bearings, Jenn reaches out her hand. Unlike her slow, almost gentle touch during the previous demonstration, this time it’s violent and fast. She draws her arm back as if she were pulling a rope. The red smoke jets across the twenty-foot gap leaving an audible hissing sound in its wake.

  “That’s two,” Jenn boasts, as the woman topples over in a shrunken pile.

  I stand on the lip of the pool to get a better view of the carnage. The second victim’s corpse smokes, as if recently on fire. A dark line of soot hanging in the air above her.