Reckoning f-4

by Thomas E. Sniegoski

  “Hey, boy,” she said, happy to see the animal, strangely relieved that she hadn’t been left completely alone.

  Gabriel, startled by the sound of her voice, sprang to his feet, tail starting to wag when he realized that it was she. “You scared me,” he said as he trotted to her, nuzzling her hands for affection.

  “I’m sorry,” Vilma told him, stroking the soft fur of his head. The chains between the manacles jangled.

  “I don’t think you’re supposed to be up and around,” Gabriel cautioned. He leaned heavily against her, accepting her ministrations with relish. “They told me to make sure you stayed in bed.”

  “I feel better,” she told him. “Much better, really.” She put her arms around his neck and gave him a serious hug. “I don’t know what it is, but I all of a sudden feel like everything is going to be okay.”

  Gabriel twisted in her grasp so that he could look into her eyes. “Is he all right? Do you know if Aaron is safe? I was feeling something too, but I couldn’t tell if it was a good feeling or a bad one.”

  “I don’t know,” Vilma told the Labrador, looking at her reflection in his dark gaze. “I just woke up feeling that things had finally been set right.” She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “I really don’t know what it means. It’s just how I’m feeling.”

  Gabriel tilted his head quizzically. “I guess that’s a good feeling, then.”

  “I guess so,” she said, standing and walking toward the door. “Where are the others, Gabe?” she asked the dog as they stepped out into the cool, spring night.

  The streets of Aerie were deserted. It was eerily quiet, no signs evident that this wasn’t a neighborhood abandoned during the nineteen seventies, even though she knew otherwise.

  “Lorelei said something about going to the center of town to wait.” The dog gazed down toward the end of the street, nose twitching as he sniffed the air.

  “To wait for what? You mean for Aaron to come back?”

  Gabriel slowly nodded his blocky head. “Or maybe for something bad to happen.” His voice sounded small, tinged with fear.

  Vilma took in a deep lungful of the damp night air as she gazed up at the stars, reaffirming the peace she had felt since awakening. She wasn’t sure exactly how she knew, but she was certain that something about the world had changed.

  “No,” she said, heading toward Aerie’s center with Gabriel close at her heels. “I don’t think this is bad at all.”

  The citizens had gathered in the center of what had once been called the Ravenschild Estates, now known to them simply as Aerie. Lehash wasn’t sure exactly why they had decided to congregate not far from the twisted rubble that had once been their place of worship, but they were all here.

  It was probably for the same reason that he had come, an almost palpable feeling in the air that something big was about to happen. Nobody was talking really, both fallen angel and Nephilim alike. All were standing around, gazing off into the distance or at the night sky above them. They didn’t seem to know the direction from which it was going to arrive, but they knew it was coming nonetheless. He wouldn’t have disagreed with them.

  Legs crossed at the ankles and leaning against a broken streetlight, Lehash sucked upon the moist end of his cheroot, letting the smoke leak from his nostrils to swirl in the air about his face. He studied the gathering crowd. How their numbers had declined, thanks to the Powers’ attack just weeks before. How many of them had been struck down, only to be freed from their mortal shells by the touch of the one they had come to think of as savior. Will the rest of us be as lucky? he wondered.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” called a voice from across the street, and Lehash watched as his daughter approached. She strolled down the street, careful to avoid the gaping holes that had been caused when the full fury of her angelic spells had been unleashed upon the Powers, the magick of angels igniting pockets of explosive gas trapped beneath the toxic-waste-tainted ground. She had brought a weather-beaten beach chair with her, one that had belonged to Belphegor, and she unfolded it to sit down as she reached him.

  “I kind of wondered if I was the only one feeling it,” she said, crossing her legs, nervously wiggling her foot as she gazed around at the center and all who had gathered there. “Guess this answers my question.”

  Lehash silently pulled upon the end of his foul-smelling cigar, his preternatural vision scanning the entire surroundings, as well as hundreds of miles beyond it.

  “That’s one thing I never could stand about you,” Lorelei suddenly said from her beach chair. “You never let me get a word in edgewise.”

  His daughter thought she was pretty funny.

  It was a trait that she definitely shared with her mother. The gunslinger remembered the human woman he had fallen in love with, fooling himself into thinking that he could live like them. But the joke had been on him. It hadn’t been one of his prouder moments, but he had left the woman, for her own good he had told himself, knowing full well that she had been with child as he headed out again alone—until he found Aerie, a place where he could belong.

  “Don’t know why I ever admitted to bein’ your daddy,” he said dryly, blowing smoke into the air to punctuate his statement.

  Lorelei chuckled, grabbing hold of the long, snow white hair the hung past her shoulders. “I don’t think you could’ve denied it,” she said, shaking the hair at him. “The family resemblance is unmistakable.”

  Lehash removed his Stetson and ran his fingers through his own snowy hair, pushing it back on his head before replacing his hat. “Yer probably right,” he drawled, the crack of a smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. “Should’a dyed my hair.”

  His daughter smiled, and he continued to smoke his cigar, and they waited, as did all the other citizens.

  Waited for something to happen.

  “What are we going to do if he fails?” Lorelei asked quietly.

  Lehash looked down at her sitting in her lounge chair beside the streetlamp as if waiting for a nighttime parade to pass by. It was a question he had been thinking since Aaron left Aerie in pursuit of his father and Verchiel. The kid was good, there was no doubting that, but the gunslinger had also seen the savagery of the Powers commander many times throughout the centuries. And if there was one thing that Lehash had become in his millennia on the earth, it was a realist.

  He took a long, hard pull on his cheroot before answering. “We’ll do what we’ve always done. We’ll survive, fight if we have to,” he said. “But the world’s going to become a pretty inhospitable place if the boy—”

  “I’m not talking about that,” Lorelei said cutting him off. “I’m talking about the prophecy. What happens if he dies before fulfilling the prophecy?”

  Lehash dropped the remains of his cigar to the street, crushing out the burning ember beneath the toe of his leather boot. “I guess we’re out of luck,” he said, feeling an icy grip of hopelessness the likes of which he hadn’t felt since descending from Heaven and first setting foot upon this world.

  The jangling of chains distracted them, and father and daughter both looked up to see Gabriel trotting down the damaged street beside Aaron’s friend Vilma.

  “I told that dog not to let her out of bed,” Lorelei said, standing up as Vilma and Gabriel approached the center.

  “I guess she felt it too,” Lehash said. From what he could see, the girl seemed healthy, no signs of the furious internal battle she had been fighting earlier. The Malakim’s potion appeared to have done what he had promised it would. Furtively he hoped that her struggle hadn’t been for nothing.

  Lehash felt it before it actually happened, as if somebody had taken a cold metal spur and rolled it down the length of his spine. And by the expression he saw upon his daughter’s face, he knew that she, too, had felt it. He lifted his hands and allowed his guns of heavenly flame to take shape.

  “Dad?” Lorelei questioned.

  She stumbled and he let go a gun to grab her arm, keeping her from falling, al
l the while scanning the neighborhood and beyond, searching for any hint of trouble. Whatever it was—whatever they were feeling—was coming now, and there wasn’t a damn thing any of them could do to stop it.

  Gabriel began to bark crazily, his tail wagging. The dog seemed to be staring at a spot in the center of the street, across from the rubble of the church. Something was manifesting in the air there, something black and shiny, and Lehash lowered his guns knowing full well what he was seeing.

  “He’s back.”

  The gunslinger left his post and headed toward the disturbance. Lorelei followed closely at his side, and before he knew it, Scholar, Vilma, and Gabriel had joined them. Citizens from all around were converging on Aaron Corbet.

  Lehash raised his hand, signaling for those around him to stop where they were, as he carefully inched his way toward the boy. He wanted to be certain that everything was all right before exposing the others to potential danger.

  Aaron stood, unmoving, head bowed as if in deep reflection, his enormous wings closed about him like a black, feathered blanket. Slowly the wings unfurled to reveal that the boy had not returned alone. Two men were with him, one on either side of the young Nephilim. Lehash didn’t recognize the older of the pair. He was human, with the taint of angel magick about him. But there was no mistaking the identity of the other, even with the odd addition of a mouse perched upon his shoulder.

  “Hello, Lehash,” he said in a voice as smooth as smoke, and the gunslinger suddenly found himself wrestling with conflicting emotions.

  “Been a while, Lucifer,” Lehash responded tersely, not sure whether he wanted to embrace the angel or put a bullet of fire through his head.

  Aaron returned his wings to beneath the flesh of his back, a wave of exhaustion washing over him with the realization that he had made it home.

  Home. He couldn’t believe that he actually now considered this decrepit neighborhood built upon a toxic waste dump his home. It was kind of sad, but at the same time it filled his heart with happiness to know there was a place where he belonged.

  Before he left Saint Athanasius, there had been some protest from his companions when he suggested they return to Aerie together. The human healer, Kraus, did not feel he deserved the kindness of Aerie’s citizens after having served the Powers for so many years. And Lucifer Morningstar, well, he suspected that many of Aerie’s fallen residents would still have issues with him.

  Aaron would hear none of it. He was tired, and he wanted to return to his friends. Giving them little choice, he had wrapped his father and the healer in his winged embrace and brought them back to Aerie with him.

  “Since you two already know each other,” Aaron said, trying to divert the constable’s attention, “allow me to introduce Kraus. He was the Powers’ healer.”

  The old man bowed his head in reverence to the angelic gunslinger. “I am truly honored to be in your presence,” he said.

  Lehash moved closer, sniffing at the man. “He has the stink of Verchiel on him. The Powers commander changed him somehow.”

  Kraus lifted his head and gazed at the formidable angel before him. “He gave me the gift of sight,” the human said, touching his face. “I was blind from birth, but now I am able to see.”

  “A healer, then,” Lehash said, looking the man up and down. “I guess the citizens could use the help of a healer.”

  Lorelei moved around her father and tentatively approached Aaron. “So it’s over?” she asked, as if afraid he was going to tell her otherwise.

  Aaron nodded. “Verchiel’s the problem of a higher power now.”

  A yellow streak bounded from the crowd and Aaron found himself knocked backward by the impact of his best friend. He stumbled, his injured leg barely supporting his weight, as Gabriel braced his front paws on the boy’s chest and frantically, affectionately, licked his face.

  “I’m glad you’re back and that you’re not dead,” the Lab said between sloppy laps.

  Aaron hugged the big yellow dog, letting his tongue wash over every inch of exposed skin on his face and neck. “I’m glad I’m not dead too, pally.”

  Gabriel dropped back to all fours, tail wagging wildly as Aaron continued to heap affection upon him. “How’s Vilma, Gabe?” he asked. “Did you keep an eye on her for me? Is she doing any better?”

  “Ask her yourself,” the dog replied, looking into the crowd just beyond where he was standing.

  The full meaning of the animal’s words didn’t quite sink in until Aaron followed Gabriel’s gaze and his eyes locked immediately with hers. He practically ran toward Vilma, taking her into his arms and holding her as close as he possibly could. If he could have opened himself up and placed her safely within, he would have done so. The girl reciprocated, burying her face in his shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly around her neck.

  “I knew you were all right,” she whispered in his ear. “I knew you wouldn’t leave me alone.”

  They kissed then, their lips pressing hungrily together, and Aaron finally understood what had been absent from his life thus far. He had been incomplete, a piece of him missing without him ever truly realizing it. Sure he had felt the emptiness from time to time, but he’d chalked it up to feeling sorry for himself, never knowing that there was another half out there in the world waiting to be joined with him. Vilma was that half, and at that moment, as he held the woman he loved in his arms, Aaron Corbet knew for the first time what it was to be whole.

  “Is that your father, Aaron?” he heard Gabriel ask, and let go of Vilma long enough to see Lucifer moving through the crowd, talking to those who had gathered, heralding his arrival.

  “Yes, it is,” he said, no longer afraid to admit it.

  A silence had come over the center, and only the voice of the Morningstar could be heard.

  “I’m sorry,” he said to each and every one of the gathered. “I’m sorry for all that I have done, and for all that has happened because of me.”

  He moved among them. Whether they were fallen angel or Nephilim, all were deemed recipients of his soulful regrets. Some embraced the angel that once sat at the right hand of God, tearfully accepting his words of apology, while others snarled, turning their backs, not yet willing to forgive him his sin, or themselves their own.

  Lehash, Lorelei, and Scholar were the last to receive the Morningstar’s words of atonement, and Aaron wondered if he was going to have to get involved. The air became charged with tension as Lucifer approached them, and he readied himself just in case.

  “Tumael,” Lucifer said, bowing to the angel that Aaron had only known as Scholar.

  Tumael bowed back, accepting the first of the fallen’s apology graciously.

  He moved on to Lorelei.

  “I accept,” she said before the words even had a chance to leave his mouth, and Lucifer smiled.

  And then the Morningstar turned his attention to Lehash.

  Aaron wasn’t sure what history had passed between them, but he guessed that Lehash had at least once been a follower of the Morningstar, and the gunslinger didn’t appear to be the kind of angel that easily forgave and forgot. Time seemed to have frozen as the two fallen angels stared at each other, and Aaron got the distinct impression that the two had at one time been close, maybe even friends.

  “We had to be out of our minds to follow you,” Lehash said, his eyes dark and intense.

  Aaron watched the constable’s hands, looking for the telltale spark of potential danger. The pistols were gone at the moment, but they could easily return in less than a heartbeat.

  “I think we all went a bit insane,” Lucifer answered, his watchful eyes never leaving the angel in front of him.

  Lehash casually scratched the accumulation of stubble on his chin.

  Do angels even need to shave? Aaron wondered as a bizarre afterthought, intensely watching the scene playing out before him.

  “Do you think we’re any better now?” the constable asked.

  Lucifer thought for a moment, turning his gaze a
way from the gunslinger and looking at those gathered around the center of the blighted neighborhood. His mouse nuzzled the side of his face affectionately, and he reached up to gently stroke the top of the rodent’s head. “I do believe we are,” he answered, and he bowed his head to Aerie’s keeper of the peace. “I am sorry, Lehash, for all that I have done, and for all that has happened to you because of me.”

  Lehash scowled as he reached inside his coat pocket. Slowly he withdrew one of his foul-smelling cheroots. “After all this time, that’s the best apology you could come up with?” he asked as he placed the end of the cigar between his waiting teeth.

  Lucifer stepped closer to the gunslinger and Aaron tensed, his wings ready to launch him into the air toward the two fallen angels. His father raised a hand, causing Aaron to twitch in anticipation, but he stayed where he was. The tip of one of the Morningstar’s fingers began to burn white with the heat of heavenly fire, and he gently touched the tip of the cigar protruding from the gunslinger’s mouth, igniting its end.

  “It was kind of short notice,” Lucifer said as Lehash began to puff upon the cigar. “And I never really thought I’d have this chance.”

  Lehash brought a hand up to his mouth, momentarily removing the cigar. “Things do have a way of working out, don’t they?” he asked the angel that had led him down the path to the fall from Heaven.

  “They certainly do,” Lucifer responded, and the almost palpable tension that filled the air dispersed like a fast moving summer storm, the atmosphere suddenly fresh and clear.

  Everyone just seemed to be milling about, basking in a strange sense of closure. Aaron knew they were all feeling the same thing. With the threat of Verchiel and his thugs removed from the equation, the citizens were now free to think about things other than their day-to-day survival—namely their forgiveness. A special freedom had been given to them this new day, and Aaron allowed himself to take a small measure of pride in the fact that he had played a large part in bringing this part of the story to a satisfying conclusion.