The Elder Prophets (To Absolve the Fallen Book 2)

by Aaron Babbitt

  The only home now was the stage. The smells of body odor and marijuana wafting about were better than the smell of fresh bread and turkey at Thanksgiving. He didn’t want presents; he wanted mosh pits. He gladly traded aging relatives for roadies, girlfriends for groupies, friends for a band.

  He reflected on recent memories of shows—Salt Lake City, Denver, Colorado Springs. He bathed in the warmth of the reception he’d had, even in Salt Lake City, which had rejected his concerts in the past. His growing popularity had historically been a blessing and a curse, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the case now more than ever.

  “You were doing so well,” a raspy voice from the corner of the room intoned. “Your thoughts were happy and at peace.”

  “Teacher,” Lonny greeted with a smile. “I’m glad you came.”

  “Child, I would not miss this event for the world.”

  A man, fully clothed in robes, shuffled out of the darkness of the corner to the dimly lit room. Usually, Teacher’s face was hidden. Once, when Lonny was much younger, he had seen his mentor’s face while the older man battled an evil spirit. The boy had averted his eyes, but not before seeing what looked to be burn scars all over Teacher’s hairless head and neck.

  “I’m worried,” Lonny confessed.

  “Why should you be worried?” Teacher’s voice chided. “Everything is happening exactly as I predicted it would. We are still in control of this situation.”

  “They will request our help.”

  “Your help,” Teacher corrected. “They know only of you and your band.”

  “Do I help them?”

  “My apprentice, your destiny is your own to mold. Don’t let them or their God tell you what to do. You need not live the life anyone else has chosen, including,” Teacher added with reluctance in his voice, “the one I have chosen. Whatever you decide, you will have to face the consequences of your choices, as we all must. If it is you they seek, you may deal with them as you see fit. Don’t involve any of the rest of us. Should we care to support one side or the other, we will. For myself...well, you know where I stand.”

  “Yes, sir. I would not presume to ever speak for you.”

  Teacher walked over and placed a gloved hand on Lonny’s shoulder. “I know. I hope you will keep yourself safe. If you choose to take a side, you know that I may not get involved. Too many people rely on me to be neutral.”

  “I hope that my choices don’t dishonor you.”

  “Of course not. As long as your choices are made from your own ability to reason, you will never dishonor me.”

  “What if Abigail Martin searches my mind and finds the truth about the Society?”

  Teacher seemed to consider this question. “That isn’t her way, but do not concern yourself with Abbie. If she oversteps her bounds, I shall deal with her.”

  ***

  “What did I miss?” Matt groaned, rubbing the right side of his head. “I hurt all over. We were talking to the chick; then she started floating. And I--” Matt looked especially pained now. “The shard! Did anyone pick up the shard from the sword of Lucifer?”

  No one replied.

  “Oh my God...Jeremiah’s going to kill me.”

  Alex walked close to the table Matt was getting up from. “Matt, you were very nearly killed by a demon already tonight. I understand that the three of you encountered the Morning Star, and only through the help—perhaps sacrifice—of John’s guardian angel, Anapiel, did you manage to escape. Do you remember any of this?”

  Matt looked completely stunned by the information he was getting. “No. She pitched me from her back, and then I don’t remember anything.”

  Alex nodded. “When Salmar was healing you, he said you have pretty powerful natural healing abilities, like he does.”

  “Not like mine,” Salmar corrected.

  “Right,” Alex agreed. “He thought they might have been given to you by Jeremiah, without either of you knowing. It looks like it worked pretty good too. You’d taken quite a beating.

  “There was some talk about whether or not our abilities might be more...evolved. I guess we can take demon powers and adapt them to our own. And that turned into an argument about whether or not we should try to use our powers to weaken the demons. We agreed to talk to Jeremiah and Abbie about it before we tried. I think that’s about all you missed.”

  Matt’s eyes were wide, and his voice was almost a whisper. “That was Lucifer?”

  “I have no doubt,” John confirmed, stepping into Matt’s view from behind Alex.

  Matt looked defeated. “It can’t happen like this. We’re the good guys; we’re supposed to win, not get overrun by bad guys. We just get more and more shit piled on top of us, while legends are coming back from Hell to slap us around.”

  “You can’t start losing your faith now,” John said. “You knew we would always be in over our heads, that we would always be in danger until the job is done. We have our work cut out for us, and some of us will not make it out of this war alive. But the work we must do is laid out in front of us now. If Lucifer is done hiding, maybe we can finally do something about him.”

  “Talk about a silver lining,” Sophie snorted ironically.

  John’s head turned slowly toward Sophie, almost menacingly. “Ever since we returned, you have treated me like I awoke the beast.”

  Sophie became stoic. “Now that you mention it, you and your friends have been diligently trying to find him. And you have been quite newsworthy lately. Is it possible that you attracted him to our location?”

  John’s hand went to the hilt of his sword, behind his neck. “I have had quite enough of this.”

  Nathan grinned, sat down on a nearby chair, and exclaimed, “Ah, now this is entertainment!”

  The other Elder Prophets immediately stood up and moved toward the situation. Salmar raised his staff and demanded that John desist. In a second, four copies of Zeng Wei filled the already crowded kitchen, two stood between John and Sophie.

  “Are you responsible for this?” Alex demanded of Nathan.

  Matt, who was not quite sure what was going on, but not inclined to stay that close to it, rolled off the table and hid in a corner.

  “Me?” Nathan asked. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I’ve been warned, you’ll recall.”

  With inhuman speed, almost worthy of Matt, John’s blade flew from the scabbard, slashed down, then up, and cut down two of the Zeng Wei replicates. They fell to the ground. The other three Zeng Wei forms winced in pain. Sophie disappeared, stepping between time no doubt.

  “Stop!” Alex screamed.

  And they did.

  ***

  Ephippas felt that he had stooped rather low. A mile south of the city limits of Kingstone, he had commandeered a service station that had been out of commission for several years. It was outside the jurisdiction of the Kingstone Police Department, and he had Patheus’s assurances that the Kansas City police, the county, and state troopers would stay out of his way.

  Five of his mortal soldiers-of-fortune “guarded” their master as they nailed drywall to bare studs. This setup may not be what he was accustomed to, but he would not have holes in the walls and trash all over the floor. The others were running errands for him, spying on Kingstone, or sleeping. Ephippas brooded in the most comfortable chair he could find in the building, while his mercenaries labored without complaint around him. After all, they were being paid very well. They should be doing something.

  After this war was over, he’d kill Patheus. Metatron would have no more need of the stupid brute. And the Voice of God would surely reward the efforts of a demon who went, loyally, into the heart of battle, rather than one who hid miles away in the safety of a fortress.

  In fact, if he didn’t like it, maybe Metatron would have to be banished from this plane as well. Despite his reappearance, Metatron’s previous demise showed that it could happen. The Voice could be silenced. And he was losing support all the time. His war with the prophets had made him
most unpopular in some circles. Said circles did approve of—and found sport in—killing prophets, but not like this. Open warfare was dangerous and imprudent. It beckoned the wrath of Heaven and the attention of mortals.

  At the moment, he was in no position to do anything about the predicament he was in, but things would change, as they always did. Eventually, one of Metatron’s mistakes would provide the necessary catalyst for his removal. He was still too human, too much like a prophet. And he would make a human mistake.

  Just then, a strange sensation overtook him. Something pulled on his mind, told him in no uncertain terms that his presence was needed within the town he was watching. It took a force of will to fight off the urge to find the source of the sensation. Indeed, he was outside, in the clear starlight, by the time he had retaken control of his body.

  “Sir?” one of the guards who had followed him out called to him.

  He looked toward the direction of town, his mind still reeling from the mental struggle. The presence of something was still at work in the distance. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel a supernatural conflict—a big one.

  “Intriguing,” he said to himself.

  “Sir?” the guard repeated.

  “Shut up, fool,” Ephippas commanded, not taking his eyes from the soft glow of the small town, “and finish my wall.”

  ***

  Alex couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Everyone, who had been at each other’s throats for reasons unfathomable to Alex, had frozen in place, and someone new stood in the room.

  Taken aback, Alex studied this intruder with fascination. Down to the smallest detail, Alex was looking at himself looking back at him. He waved his hand in one small arc to make sure he wasn’t staring into a reflection of himself.

  “Hi,” the other greeted.

  Another figure materialized in the corner to the left of Alex. It was Raphael, and he was holding a flaming sword.

  “I have already been forced to dispatch one of God’s servants today, old friend,” the Alex clone warned. “Please, don’t make me do so again.”

  “Deluded abomination,” Raphael’s voice rang clearly throughout the room. “You have dispatched nothing. It is audacious of you to make an attack on the prophets of this place, then arrive expecting a warm reception.”

  “But the rule was don’t attack the boy or his family. I have been briefed.”

  “Then, allow me to brief you personally.” The fury of Raphael’s fire seemed to die only a little. “Your visitation is not a surprise. As always, you are unwittingly playing into the plans of the Father. You may have your conversation, if Alex consents, but you will maintain a safe distance. You have ten minutes—no more—to say whatever it is that you have to say. One second longer, and I will haul the sum of your blasphemous existence to Hell to wallow in torment of your own creation with your rebel brothers. Further, at the conclusion of this conversation, you and all of your influences are strictly banned from these premises as long as I watch over them.”

  The other Alex smiled patronizingly. “No nonsense. I like that.”

  Raphael stepped a little closer and locked eyes with his potential prey. “If anything I have just said is unclear, or if you still think you can ‘dispatch’ me, let’s resolve it now.”

  “I understand,” came the simple response.

  “Alex,” the archangel said to the boy, “if you consent, he will talk to you. I shall not allow him to close distance, touch you, or use his powers to manipulate you. All he gets is his cunning, but do not underestimate it.”

  “Why should I talk to him?” Alex asked of his guardian angel.

  “I found a loophole, my boy,” his double explained as a matter of fact. “The angel doesn’t kill me because I haven’t broken a rule he made. However, if you don’t talk to me, your friends are going to kill each other while we all watch. I will make sure that you and your family are not harmed in the carnage that ensues, myself.”

  Alex looked at the frozen battle scene in pain. It was a horrifying mural of death and hopelessness.

  “You did this,” Alex observed rather than asked.

  “Of course.”

  “I consent.” Alex turned back to the demon with anger in his eyes. “But you will reverse this all right now.”

  The other Alex shrugged his shoulders and pointed to where the struggle had been taking place. Alex saw the people moving backward. Sophie reappeared. It looked like John raised two dead bodies with his katana before sheathing it. The two other Elder Prophets went back to their original positions, all of the Zeng Wei replicates vanishing, as if to signal “all clear.” And Matt walked back to the table and lay atop it, propped up by his elbows. Only one detail seemed out of place still when the scene had gone back to an acceptable place—presumably before Lucifer became involved.

  “I guess it’s not a big deal, but technically Nathan was standing over next to Zeng Wei earlier, not sitting in that chair. He only moved there afterward.”

  “Yeah,” Lucifer agreed with a cock of his eyebrow, “he’s an interesting case. I actually didn’t affect him, so his actions have all been his own.”

  Alex smiled wryly. “You couldn’t affect him.”

  Again a shrug of the shoulders. “Not with that, apparently.”

  “You did all of this just to talk to me?”

  “And to prove a point to your friends. They interfered in my operations, and I felt an example had to be made.”

  “Well, you have my undivided attention. What do you want to say?”

  Lucifer tilted his head in mock interest. Alex still had not gotten over the strange feeling of talking to himself.

  “You are not at all like Jesus; I knew him. Your spirit is different.”

  “And?” Alex prompted with building irritation.

  “You’re impatient, overwhelmed by responsibility, and frightened,” the Morning Star continued. “He didn’t need a guardian angel to keep me at bay. He was independently strong, and I respected him for it.”

  “I’m not looking for your respect,” Alex responded tersely.

  “I didn’t mean to imply that I don’t respect you,” the demon said sincerely. “I do, just in a different way. You are a man—a child—after my own heart. You’re young, and there is a great deal for you to learn, but I think you would make a great leader of men. I sense ambition in you.”

  “And I can sense a lie when I hear one,” Alex countered. “I don’t think you respect me as much as you don’t want me to work for your enemy. How could I ever trust you, when I know your goal was to drug a bunch of Kingstone teens, many who were probably my friends?”

  Lucifer sighed. “I know it seems hard to understand now, but I’m fighting in a war, in The War, you might say. Do you think humans are the only sentient beings in the universe? Humans are not even the only sentient beings on the planet. What is the loss of a few teenagers to an attack, substantial or not, on the ultimate tyrant?

  “How long will you play his game? How long will he pull your strings? Surely, I am not the only one in the room who has seen folly in his tactics. Have you ever seen a prophet die at the hands of a demon?”

  Alex thought of Lao Shi. “In a manner of speaking.”

  “Oh, they die all the time, usually pretty painfully. I’ve killed quite a few, myself.”

  “I’ve had conversations like this before,” Alex recalled with a disbelieving shake of his head, “and I always wonder where demons get off asking me to trust them when they reveal their true natures.”

  “Don’t trust me, then. I have only been honest with you, even if you don’t want to accept it for what it’s worth. Would I sacrifice you, myself, and every other being on this planet to save all the other planets and all the other planes from that divine despot? Without hesitation. Even if I had to kill every living creature in every corner of the universe, I would do it just so he couldn’t oppress them. Of course, I hope it would never come to that, but he must be stopped.”

  “You are
completely insane.”

  “Insane is not a term that applies to me. Sane and insane are concepts invented by human beings to compare and contrast themselves to other human beings. You think me insane because you are not the most important part of my existence. I may not be trustworthy due to my already stated belief structure and what I am willing to do to stop the puppeteer’s mad reign, but I am not insane; I see things very clearly. You put your faith in an omnipotent, benevolent being who created me to hurt or kill prophets like you. I think you’re insane.”

  “You think that was what He wanted?” Alex pondered. “Why didn’t He just hurt me, Himself? I would think He’d take more pleasure in that.”

  “He does work in mysterious ways. Why does he rely on angels at all? Because angels make good scapegoats. We’re the good guys and the bad guys, while he gets to remain conveniently neutral and ambiguous—no responsibility.

  “Who knows what he actually believes or whom he truly cares about? Martyrs are slain wondering why he never did save them. Was it something they’d done? Was it a final test of faith? I’m afraid you may find yourself in a similar position. I’m very clever, you know. I don’t have to break their rules to kill you.” He gestured to Raphael, who stood there with no reaction.

  “Not that it matters,” Lucifer continued. “I’ve broken their rules countless times and gotten away with it. But this time it might be different.” Then, he cupped his right hand next to his mouth and whispered, as if the information was confidential or some ancient piece of wisdom, “I think the flaming sword means he’s not fucking around.”

  “Anyway,” he went back to his normal volume, “I don’t need to break any rules yet, not with as many other viable diversions as I have. I believe that decrepit guard dog, Garrett, is looking for me. It might be sport to put that cur down. I wonder how many demons have hunted him.”